The King's Secret Matter by Jean Plaidy Page A

once.’
    A page entered and told the Queen that Mistress Boleyn was without and saying that she had come at the Queen’s command.
    â€˜It is true. Bring her to me. Now Maria, you will go.’
    Maria curtseyed and went out as Mary Boleyn entered.
    Mary came to stand before the Queen; she made a deep curtsey, raising her big, dark eyes fearfully to the Queen’s face as she did so.
    Mary shivered inwardly. How frozen she looked! No wonder Henry went elsewhere for his comforts. She would be a cold bedfellow.
    So this is the girl for whom he has neglected me! thought Katharine. She has the look of a slut. Why does he not choose someone more in keeping with his rank?
    â€˜Mistress Mary Boleyn, pray rise,’ said the Queen.
    The girl straightened herself and stood forlornly waiting for what the Queen had to say.
    â€˜You are the centre of a most distressing scandal,’ began Katharine, and, watching the slow flush mount to the girl’s forehead, thought that it was some small comfort that she felt some shame. ‘It is unbecoming of you and . . . in those who share your misdemeanours.’
    Mary looked at her helplessly. She wanted to explain: It was at Ardres or Guisnes – she was not quite sure. She had noticed his eyes upon her; and she had known the meaning of the looks he gave her. Then he had caught her alone one day and whenhis hands had strayed over her body there was nothing she could do but say Yes. She would have said Yes to anyone who was as handsome and had such need of her. With the King, of course, there could be no thought of refusal. Did not the Queen understand this? Poor lady. Mary believed she really did not. She did not know the King very well then. She did not know the way of the Court.
    But how explain? She hung her head for she was ashamed; and she was deeply sorry that she had caused the good and pious Queen distress. Strangely enough she had never thought of the Queen; she could never think of anything at such times but the need for gratification, and when it was over it was too late. Mary was not the sort to waste regrets on things which it was too late to change.
    What was the Queen asking of her now? To refuse the King! Did anyone ever refuse the King?
    Then an idea occurred to her. The Queen still had some power, even with the King. Although she was so old and the King was clearly tired of her, she was still a Princess of Spain and her nephew was the most important monarch in Europe.
    Mary had wanted to tell the Queen that she was sorry, that she would willingly end her liaison with the King tomorrow if she could. But it was so difficult to explain. So Mary did the only thing possible; she burst into tears.
    Katharine was quite unprepared for such a loss of control, and for a few moments did not know what to say to the girl.
    â€˜Your Grace,’ sobbed Mary. ‘I wish I were a good woman . . . but I’m afraid I’m not. I was made this way. And now that I want to marry Will . . . Oh dear, it is all so difficult, but I wish . . . oh how I wish . . .’
    â€˜You should control yourself,’ said the Queen coldly.
    â€˜Yes, Your Grace,’ said Mary, dabbing at her eyes.
    â€˜What is this talk of marriage?’
    â€˜I am in love, Your Grace, with Will Carey. He is a younger son, and my father does not find him a good enough match for me. He has . . . forbidden us . . .’
    â€˜I see. So this young man is willing to marry you in spite of the scandal you have brought on yourself.’
    â€˜There would be no more scandal, Your Grace, if only I could marry Will. I want none but Will, and he wants none but me. If Your Grace would speak for us . . .’
    A strange state of affairs, pondered the Queen. I send for her to reprimand her for her lewd conduct with the King, and she asks me to help her to marry with a young man whom she says she loves.
    Yet there was something lovable about the girl. Katharine had never thought that she could