Chapter XV

April, 1523

Bored and in a slightly irritable mood, Anne sat in front of the fireplace and watched the flames greedily lick the letter away.

It was the end of April and she still had not been summoned back to court.

For a sharp girl like Anne, staying isolated in Hever without a piece of news was one of the worst tortures she ever endured.

She passed the days through reading volumes of dusty books in the Hever library, writing dozens of letters to send to the still imprisoned George and the pregnant Mary. She even wrote a few for the Duchess of Suffolk which she had not yet sent. In the afternoons, she would visit and converse with her paternal grandmother, Lady Margaret Boleyn (née Butler) whose mind seemed to be trapped in the past. At first, it was entertaining to listen about her father's childhood, but over the months, it grew tedious and Anne was certain she memorised the story about her father and the rabbits.

"Your father had craved rabbit pie for months," the elderly Lady Boleyn would say as she crammed sweetmeats into her mouth. "He was only a boy back then…no older than a lad of ten. At that time, we weren't as well off as we are now. Thomas would always ask for rabbit pie and it broke my heart to say no. Well, you know your father." She chuckled. "He wouldn't back away from a challenge.

"One day, he went out into the fields with his brothers. When he returned, he spotted a rabbit scampering into the nearby woods. He wanted to follow them, but his father had forbade him or his siblings to go in there. Every day, he would watch a rabbit or two race there, his mouth watering for rabbit pie. On the fourth day, he had enough. He built a snare and caught a rabbit. With one clean cut, he killed it and brought it back home for us to make rabbit pie. His father was furious; he asked Thomas why he disobeyed his orders, but Thomas said he didn't! That clever boy had caught the rabbit before it ran for the woods! That night, we ate rabbit pie; every day after that, Thomas would catch a rabbit or two and send it to us, as proud as a rooster. By the week's end, we were all mightily sick of rabbit! Not Thomas – he would never stop eating rabbit pie."

Like he never stops plotting, thought Anne.

Since her banishment to Hever, Wiltshire had not written to her once; her grandmother told her that he only sent her a letter once a few months. Anne was horrified, but Lady Boleyn waved it off with a placid smile and said, "He is so like his father, my William. Always busy, always working. You are fortunate to have him as a father, young Anne."

Before Easter, Anne's aunt (and Lady Boleyn's eldest daughter), Lady Shelton, had paid her a short and impromptu visit. "You are sorely missed at court," Lady Shelton told her. "A few gentlemen – Sir Henry Norris and Thomas Wyatt I believe – have begged the Queen to reinstate you back at court as one of her ladies-in-waiting, but she had not said anything about it. Courtiers are whispering the King and Queen are unhappy in their marriage which was a reason for your brother's arrest and Princess Katherine's house arrest. The common folk think otherwise. They believe the wicked Lord Rochford seduced the poor, innocent princess and forced her to marry him. The rumours have rose so high that the King is afraid of releasing your brother."

Anne's heart had skipped a beat. "There wouldn't be a trial?"

"My dear niece! The King is merciful! He wouldn't even think of executing George! He hates the thought of unnecessary bloodshed. However, the Cardinal is pushing for George's execution and I heard words that the Queen is siding with him. Do not fear, Anne. I doubt the Queen would demand George's execution – what would she gain from it? The people's displeasure? I also heard that George is in relative comfort in the Tower. He is fed well and given books and writing material. The Cardinal had wanted to throw him in the dungeons with the common criminals, but the King insisted George be given rooms suited to his station as the son of an Earl."

"Oh, thank God! Will he ever be freed?"

"Perhaps in a few months' time." Lady Shelton's brow furrowed. "The King is in need of a diplomat in Scotland and the Queen had recommended George. The Cardinal will not want it…"

Anne sighed. If Wolsey had not been noticed by Richard Foxe, he wouldn't be recommended to be a member of the Privy Council. Oh, her life would've been so much easier if that Wolsey did not have the King's ear! Earlier, she'd hoped Wolsey would die of illness, but after he recovered from a bout of Sweating Sickness, Anne grudgingly had to stop wishing him dead.

As she reminisced of her life in the French court, a maid approached her. "My lady, there is an unexpected visitor for you."

"Who is it?" said Anne impatiently.

"He would not say his name, my lady."

"Is he a farmer? A priest? A nobleman? A merchant?"

"He looks well-dressed, my lady."

Anne almost shouted at her with irritation. "Why is he here then?!"

"He gives no reason, my lady."

Huffing angrily, she stormed out and went to the entrance hall, prepared to berate the unforeseen guest passionately…before she froze in shock. "Edmund?"

Standing in front of her in windswept garbs and a relieved grin, Edmund nodded, peeling off his riding gloves. "Can I trouble you with meat and wine?" he said sheepishly. "I have not eaten for hours and the last meal I had consisted of two meagre apples. Perhaps a room for the night too? I doubt I am in any condition to travel back home."

Anne nodded, speechless. Her dark green skirts swivelled around her as she turned to the dust-coated feasting hall. Her grandmother spoke often of the feasts she hosted in her days when she was younger and the mistress of Hever Castle; those days have ended as the feasting hall was seldom used. Often, Anne took her meals in her chambers or in front of the fireplace whilst Lady Boleyn had maids carry trays of food up to her in her rooms. As there were a slight shortage of servants and maids, the feasting hall was not looked after as well as the other more frequented rooms of Hever Castle.

"Forgive me for the dust, my lord prince," Anne said stiffly, gesturing for him to sit at the head of the table. "I did not expect you. I will have servants bring you a hearty meal immediately." Before Edmund could speak, she hurried to the kitchens, a rush of emotions running in her mind. He finally came, she thought as she told the cook of their unexpected guest. Why so long? Was he held back by the King due to matters of state; could he be here to inform me of an impending betrothal to a royal princess or a rich English heiress? If he does, it is courteous for him to do so. Not many princes will speak to their…close female companions of it.

"I will rustle something up at once, my lady," the cook promised. "Is there anything in particular His Highness would like to eat?"

Edmund's favourite is honey and cinnamon tart. "No," Anne lied. "Anything would do."

"As you say, my lady."

Anne returned to the feasting hall and sat on his right. "What are you doing here, my prince?" she said bluntly. "You could've stayed at any palace, castle or manor, and you decided to ask for hospitality at my home here in Hever."

"I came to see you," answered Edmund promptly. "I always wanted to, but I did not know whether Catherine was playing me or not. I set off for Hever a few days ago, but I did not know the way. I asked a few knights and priests and eventually found my way here."

"It seems you had quite a journey, my prince."

"Indeed. I hope Arthur is not worried."

"The King is not aware of your journey here?"

Edmund shook his head. "I asked the stable boys to tell him I was going on a pilgrimage."

Anne arched an eyebrow. "I doubt the King will believe that."

He shrugged. "The King will believe what he chooses to believe. Why are you here alone? I thought you would be entertained by plenty of Boleyn cousins."

"They live at Blickling Hall or in some other manors. They hardly visit me here."

"Oh."

Silence descended as two servants delivered a hot bowl of soup, half a loaf of bread, a plate of cold meat and a large flagon of ale.

"Thank you," said Anne, dismissing the servants with a curt nod. She began slicing the bread in even pieces, her hand slightly shaking as she felt Edmund's gaze upon her. Stop staring at me, she thought grouchily. I'm not a horse in the market nor a whore in a brothel. I hope you have not come all this way just to stare at me. She piled the slices onto a plate and pushed it towards Edmund. "Eat it with the soup. It is very good. I loved it as a child."

"Why are you so cold to me?" asked Edmund, nibbling a slice. "What have I done?"

What have you done? Where can I possibly begin?

"Why were you cold to me when I was at court?" said Anne testily.

Edmund sighed. "Fair enough. I thought you would marry Northumberland's son."

"And after that? I looked for you all over court, I sent you messages and I was worried about you. Why didn't you summon me? You knew I was at court back then! Queen Catherine told me you were nursing a broken heart before my banishment. Was that at least true?"

"Yes…"

Anne sensed there was something amiss. "You're not telling me something," she said accusingly. "You eat my bread and drink my ale; can you not speak the truth?"

"That is the truth!" Edmund protested, breaking off a chunk of bread. "What else do you want me to say, Anne? I'm sorry I wounded your feelings!"

"Is the King planning a marriage for you?"

"Would you be jealous if I said yes?" Edmund joked.

Anne glared at him, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowing by the second. "You are the King's brother; I am only a mere noblewoman. I am destined to marry the man my father chooses for me while you can marry any woman you desire. Why should I be jealous? I will be bitter if my father arranges for me to serve your future wife." Catching a glimpse of his confused expression, she went on, "If I ever return to court, I have no royal lady to serve; the Queen has dismissed me from her household. She said she will call me back after Easter, but I am still here. I always thought the Queen was a kind and loving woman, but she is like any ambitious woman coveting for power. I never knew such a pious woman would enjoy toying with her subjects' emotions and hearts." She did not care that her words may be interpreted as treason. Who would report her to the King? Her grandmother? Lady Boleyn was upstairs and occupied in a mass of reminiscing thoughts. Nearby servants? They were all exceedingly loyal to the Boleyns and would never betray her for a coin or two. Edmund? Perhaps…to spite her.

"I have contemplated the idea of marriage," said Edmund, reluctantly after he realised she did not find his earlier words amusing.

"Oh?" said Anne impassively, stabbing a piece of meat viciously. "Who is she then? Who is the future Duchess of Somerset?"

Edmund longed to say, "You, my beloved Anne," but he could not bring himself to profess his love for her. You rode all the way here to tell her you love her, he reminded himself. He almost choked on bread as another thought occurred. If he did not come all the way to Hever – attacked by pelting rain during his journey – to declare his intentions to Anne, why did he come?

"I want you," he blurted out.

An expressionless Anne arched an eyebrow. Honestly, he did not know what to expect as her reaction. Surprise? Anne was hardly surprised. "As a wife or mistress?" Anne asked, daintily placing a piece of meat in her mouth. As she chewed, she looked at him intently.

"I'm not my brother!" said Edmund, enraged. "I don't sleep with every woman I love!"

Anne laughed. "Forgive me for my caution, Edmund. I have a sister who is having an affair with your brother. If you love me, you must know I am no man's mistress. Jewels, trinkets and gold…I will not be bought with any of them."

"But…I love you…"

"Really? Prove it."

Edmund stared at her, his eyes widening with hurt. Here he was, offering her his heart, and she doubted his word. He is an honourable man and would never have a mistress.

"I am tired of women throwing themselves at my feet," said Edmund uncertainly. "Perhaps it will end when I wed. I would ask you to be my wife, but I'm afraid your family has not won back the King's favour and the Cardinal will be outraged if I marry you. He is already lamenting the loss of Katherine as a political piece and has vowed to have your brother executed. As of yet, Lord Rochford is still a prisoner in relative comfort in the Tower. I won't be surprised if the Cardinal makes it his mission to convince the King to execute Lord Rochford."

Anne twisted her knife in another slice of meat as if it was the flesh of her most hated enemy. "Are you testing my patience, Edmund?"

"Devoted sister, are you not?"

"We Boleyns never betray or abandon each other."

"It seems your sister has abandoned you to rot here in Hever. What of your father, the influential Lord Wiltshire? Why isn't he in the throne room, seeking an audience with the King to plead for your return to court? I think they have abandoned you."

"My sister Mary is one of loose morals and no sense. Oddly enough, even if she is berated or out of favour, she will smile placidly and be content. She probably thinks I'm happy here. As for my father, he is one of the most ambitious men you will ever meet. He doesn't care for me unless I have a purpose to him. He is probably attempting to create alliances with other nobles to free George. He may find it quite difficult with George already wedded to Princess Katherine, Mary married and now the mistress of the Duke of York and me here in exile." She sounded bitter. "Father was never good at making friends." She looked back at him. "Who will you marry?"

"I have a few choices," said Edmund uncomfortably. "There is Lady Anne de Laval, Louise Borgia, Duchess of Valentinois and Infanta Isabel of Braganza."

"Anne de Laval…" Anne mused. "I believe I met her during my time in France."

"Oh? What did you think of her?"

"My lord of Somerset, are you asking me to aid you in selecting a bride?"

Edmund grinned guiltily. "I only asked your opinion on the Lady Anne de Laval." His smile widened as Anne's eyes sparkled as they did during their past intriguing conversations.

"If you insist," smirked Anne. "She is fair and beautiful – quite wealthy too, being the only surviving daughter of Guy XVI de Laval, Count of Laval and Charlotte of Naples, Princess of Taranto. If you wed her, you will be Count of Laval and Prince of Taranto in her right."

"Henry will not be pleased."

"Indeed. He will be only the Duke of York while you will be Duke of Somerset, Count of Laval and Prince of Taranto. Anything else, my lord prince?"

"Is she clever?"

"Like me?" Anne smiled beguilingly at him.

"Yes," Edmund admitted. "Is she like you?" Once the words left his mouth, he wanted to slap himself. If I want to marry a lady like Anne, why did I not propose to Anne? By God, I insulted her with my foul words! She will never forgive me…

Anne laughed. "She does not lack wit if that is what you're afraid of. Would your brother be concerned if you wed a woman whose fertility may be under doubt?"

"Are you telling me she may be infertile? How do you know this?"

"When I was in France, I was often well-acquainted with many French noblewomen who have a fancy to talk. It is said that Anne de Laval's mother had given birth a number of times, but only Anne survived. In turn, Charlotte's mother (Anne of Savoy) died giving birth to her. If you desire to have numerous children, perhaps Lady Anne de Laval is not the right woman for you."

"Oh." Edmund tried not to sound disappointed, but he longed to have a few sons and daughters to fawn and dote over. "I see."

"Are you aware the Duchess of Valentinois is a widow?" inquired Anne, pouring him another goblet full of ale. "Wedding a widow will not be advisable – even if you will be Duke of Valentinois in her right. Besides, she is a Borgia. Do you think the King and Queen will accept a Borgia in their court? She has a large stain of illegitimacy on her father's side. However, she is the granddaughter of a Pope. Perhaps the Queen will admire that."

Edmund had not considered the outcome of himself suggesting a betrothal with the Duchess of Valentinois. "If that is the case," he said uncertainly. "Then the only suitable choice is Infanta Isabel. She is of robust health and fertile and not royal enough to refuse a match with a King's youngest brother, yet not deemed unimportant to the King of Portugal."

"The Queen will be mightily pleased."

"Yes…"

Anne said nothing. He was a prince and she was a plain noblewoman. Princes must marry princesses for the good of England, not follow their hearts.

"Would you marry me if I was not a Boleyn?" she could not help ask.

Edmund looked at her steadily. "I will marry you if you were the miller's daughter. I don't care about your rank; I love you for you."

"Why torment yourself with considering these princesses for a bride?"

"I cannot offend the King."

"You do not think me worthy enough to be the future Duchess of Somerset?"

"Your family is under suspicion already. For the love I bear you, I cannot marry you or you will surely be executed or sent to a convent. Your sister is the Duke of York's mistress, your brother married a princess of England without royal permission and in the Cardinal's eyes, your father arranged a poor match for the Prince of Wales. If I marry you, the Cardinal will accuse you of seducing me. By then, the King will be tired of hearing about trouble caused by the Boleyns and banish all of you, perhaps even stripping your father of his titles and lands. My brother is kind, but tires easily. He desires a land of peace; a dream he strives to fulfil without any interference from ambitious nobles."

"An impossible dream."

"Well, that is the King's dream. My dream is to marry the woman I love and watch our children grow up happily and without worry."

"You said you cannot marry me."

"It does not mean I don't want to. Even if I am forced to marry somebody else, I will always remember you, Lady Anne Boleyn. If I die with a wife at my bedside, it will be you I think of. If we have a daughter, I will name her Anne after you."

"If George hadn't married Katherine secretly-"

"Then we would be currently betrothed and about to marry in summer," Edmund finished.

He watched her clench her jaw tightly. "What is it?"

"Nothing," muttered Anne.

"I told you the truth. You owe me that much."

"You will hate me."

"That is for me to decide."

Anne sighed and stared directly into his eyes. "It is my fault we cannot wed now – or at all in fact. I have shattered our dream."

Her heart pounded as she said slowly, "I suggested the idea of marrying in secret to Princess Katherine. She was quite upset, and George was drunk. I thought I was mending their broken hearts by uniting them in a secret marriage."

Edmund nodded. "I know."

"What!" Anne all but shrieked. "How do you know?!"

"You are clever and a friend of Katherine's. I considered Mary giving the idea to Katherine, but dismissed it when I heard Katherine married George Boleyn. Even though you were part of the Queen's household, you were a favourite of both Mary and Katherine. Besides, there surely must be more than one witness at Katherine and George's secret wedding, and who better than you? Oh yes, Mary tried to cover for you, and the King chose to believe that, but I think you were there, were you not?"

Anne nodded and said softly. "You informed the Cardinal, did you not? You were the one who caused George to be in the Tower."

Edmund did not deny it. "Yes. I had a restless night and went for a walk. I caught sight of you and followed you. In a way, I became witness to Lord Rochford and Katherine's wedding. I must admit, it was not my brightest hour. I was still angry at you. Out of spite, I informed the Cardinal. It was rash and I should have known the consequences. Now Katherine will not leave her chambers and it is all my fault. Only the Cardinal, the Queen and now you know of it. If my sister Mary finds out, well…I suppose you will hear her shouts from even here."

"I see."

"If you do not forgive me, so be it. I will leave tomorrow morning at dawn and I will never see or speak to you again. I promise."

"No!" said Anne, before she could stop herself. "You are not well enough to leave tomorrow. Besides, you won't know where to go. Stay here for a few more days, a week even. Write a letter to the King and tell him you are well. He is bound to be concerned for you. Stay here a little longer; I will show you around Hever properly. You will love it."

Edmund gave her a confused look. "People will talk."

"People always talk," dismissed Anne. "That is what we do."

"What if your father hears of it?"

Anne shrugged, knowing fully well her father would be in some way delighted at rumours of her becoming Edmund's mistress. "Oh, and Edmund," she said quietly, as another servant placed a lemon tart on the table and left. "I forgive you. I always will."

Thanks for the reviews :) PopRockShawty, John I, King of Portugal married Philippa of Lancaster (daughter of John of Gaunt, 1st Duke of Lancaster who in turn is a son of Edward III of England) in 1387 which secured an Anglo-Portuguese alliance :)