I’m very sure he didn’t say! He was dashing to get to Anne before anyone else. As her principal lady-in-waiting, I should be at her side, even if I have to interrupt my uncle, a duke.
I look around for her sister, Mary. ‘Come with me?’ I say.
‘Not me,’ she says rudely.
There is no one to help me. I go to the door of her privy chamber, tap on it gently, and go in.
Anne has half-fallen from a chair in a faint, Thomas Howardholding her up by the shoulders. ‘Here,’ he says. ‘Slap her, or something.’
Anne struggles in his grip. ‘Jane! What’s happening?’
‘The king has fallen from his horse...’
She gets to her chair and rounds on her uncle. ‘You said he was dead!’
‘I said he looked as if he was dead,’ he corrects her quickly. ‘You have to understand that this is a moment of extreme importance. If he dies—’
‘You said he was dead!’
‘I did not. Listen, for God’s sake! If he dies, we have to ensure that you are regent. If the child in your belly is a son, then you are queen regent for the next twenty-one years until he’s grown. The sole ruler of England, good as a king.’
Anne looks wildly at me. ‘Is the king dead? Is he dead?’
I shake my head and chafe her icy hands. ‘No, no, the doctor is with him. He’s not speaking; he’s not conscious – but he’s alive. Be calm, Anne.’
‘Get George!’ Her voice is a shriek. She jumps to her feet and sways with faintness.
I have to hold her from running out to find him. ‘Anne, be still! He’s with the king – all his closest men are with him. He’s in his presence chamber; they brought him in. He fell, and his horse fell on him. But he was in full armour; he might just be faint...’
She pants and claps her hand to her belly. For a moment, nobody says anything. Then she breathes deeply; her colour comes back. She blinks; she recovers herself. I see her assembling her wits, straightening her back, calculating her advantage.
‘There,’ I say soothingly. ‘There, there,’ meaningless words while I watch thehypothetical syllogismwork its magic on the two of them:if, if, then... Ifthe king dies today,ifAnne gives birth to a boy,ifthe Spanish party are weaker than the Howards,thenthere is a Howard regency for a Tudor-Howard baby king!
Anne turns to her uncle, who is standing beside the cold fireplace,looking down into the cold grate, waiting for her to become the skilled politician he knows that she is. She takes a shuddering breath. ‘Regent,’ she prompts him.
He nods. ‘Understand this: the king’s own sister Margaret was queen regent of Scotland when her husband died, leaving her with a young son. Queen regent until the boy was crowned. She’s not the only one. Queen Margaret of Anjou was queen regent for her young son when her husband lost his wits. It’s been done before. It’s the right thing. You could do it. With my support, you could take the title. With my support, you could declare yourself regent and seize the power of a king. You would rule as a king with parliament and the privy council – we’d call it a regent council – until your son is twenty-one years old. Together, we could bring it off.’ He looks at her, his dark eyes narrow with suspicion. ‘Mind, neither of us could do it alone.’
‘A Howard regency,’ she says.
He nods. There is a long silence. ‘We’d have to work together,’ he specifies. ‘No tricks.’
‘We’d have to get rid of Lady Mary at once,’ she says. ‘Before anyone suggests her as the heir and queen...’
He nods. ‘Marry her off. . . Or...’
‘Send her to Spain?’ I suggest quietly.
‘No. I want rid of her forever,’ she repeats. ‘Permanently.’
He understands her before I do. He nods.
‘I must go to him.’ She takes two steps to the door, but she sways slightly, and I take her cold hand.
‘Sit down, Anne. Let me see if—’
‘No, let her go,’ the duke orders me. ‘She has to be seen, taking control, managing everything. I will take her.’ He puts out his arm, and Anne understands exactly how they are to appear: the pregnant queen and her uncle, the duke, who will protect her and the unborn legitimate royal heir. Nobody can stand against the two of them. If the king is dead, her baby is his only legitimate heir, and Thomas Howard, with his own private army, will make her queen regent.The baby in her belly is the next king, and Anne and her uncle will rule in his name until he takes the throne. This is the very script of Howard dreams.
Thomas Howard smiles one of his rare, sweet smiles at me. ‘Quite so,’ he says politely. He prompts Anne: ‘Queenly. Undeniable.’
