I shake my head. ‘I’ll wait for George in our rooms. He’ll come back here as soon as he’s given his evidence.’
She lowers her voice. ‘Did you hear? They’ve arrested Thomas Wyatt?’
I think of Cromwell saying:Two Francises, a Thomas, and a Mark, and a Richard and a Henry. So many! William Brereton?
I shake my head. ‘I’ve heard nothing,’ I lie. ‘I’ve seen nobody all day. But it can’t be an arrest: Wyatt is a great favourite of the king, as is Henry Norris. They’ll have called him in to give evidence, like George and Francis. Nobody would believe anything against Francis.’
I go to our rooms, and I write a letter to George.
Dearest Husband,
I send you these clothes and some writing paper and new pens and ink. I will see the king and speak for you, if I can.
Your faithful wife,
Jane
I take the letter to the stables and find our groom. I offer him another sixpence, but he hesitates.
‘Beg pardon, Lady Rochford, but I can’t go for less than a shilling. By the time I go there and back, I’m likely to be turned off.’
‘You work for me,’ I tell him. ‘No one can turn you off.’
He twists his cap in his big hands. ‘They say there’ll be no Boleynmoney to pay my wages, and already, there’s no place for me at the royal groom’s dinner table. I used to get my keep – I used to eat in. Now there’s nowhere for me to sit and no dinner for me.’
I am not going to protest our family’s innocence to my husband’s groom. I give him a shilling. ‘Take the message and bring me back an answer,’ is all I say.
I could have saved my money. George’s answer is so short and formal that he must know his letters are being read and trusts me to do whatever I can. But I am glad of a letter that says nothing – it means he is thinking of his safety, not raging in defence of Anne. The accusation of adultery and treason will fall of its own overweight – it will crash down on those who raised it. The worse they try to paint us, the worse will be their defeat. All we have to do is say nothing.
THESPANISH PARTY’Saccusation of the four commoners accused of adultery with Anne opens – in all its ridiculous illogicality – at Westminster Hall in front of a thrilled audience of Londoners. Ridiculous – because everyone knows that the charges are false. Illogical – because if the four men are found guilty of adultery with Anne, she will come to trial with a verdict already cast against her. Is the Queen of England to be condemned for adultery because a lute player admitted under torture that he swived her? With no witnesses? With no evidence? It’s so far-fetched that I am reassured that no one can take it seriously. It’s only at the end of the day, when I meet that fool Elizabeth Somerset, that I realise that the collapse of the Spanish party plot is coming dangerously late.
Broad-bellied, she is climbing awkwardly into a litter in the stable-yard, and tries to make a grimace at me, as if to laugh at her predicament. Her face is gaunt and strained. The pretty flush of pregnancy is a livid stamp on her pale nose and cheeks.
‘I’m going home for my confinement,’ she calls out as I come through the archway. ‘My husband ordered me home the minutethey went to trial! So sad! Who’d have thought anyone would have taken it all so seriously!’
‘What?’ I ask tightly. ‘Taken what so seriously?’
‘Haven’t you heard?’
‘No.’
‘Oh! I don’t like to be the one to tell you!’ she pauses.
I come close to the litter. ‘Tell me, Elizabeth. I’ve heard nothing, and nobody talks to me but you.’
‘Well, they wouldn’t,’ she exclaims. ‘Oh! My dear! So sorry! So awful! Well! Anyway... poor Smeaton confessed, though he looked awful – terribly bruised around the head. The noblemen denied everything, of course. But the lords found against their own! Think of that? Guilty.’ She looks ready to cry. ‘Of course there’ll be a pardon. But it’s such a scandal, and it looks badly on all of us. My own reputation...’
‘Guilty?’ I repeat.
‘Yes! All our darling friends. Thank God, George wasn’t there. He and Anne will be tried by the lords, not in a common court. And darling Norris and Francis Weston will be pardoned for sure. And nobody could think anything against William, though he is so disagreeable. Smeaton confessed; but of course, nobody believes him. But even so, my husband says I have to go straight home!’ She leans towards me to whisper. ‘He’s trying to deny the baby is his! Says we’re all as bad as each other. Which is what I said in the very beginning! Meaning innocent, of course!’
I recoil from her, but she goes on.
‘Think of me! The only good thing about it is that I won’t see my husband for nearly two months...’ Her voice dies away as she realises that I have not seen my husband since May Day. She beckons me closer to whisper: ‘Did you hear about Jane Seymour?’
I shake my head.
‘Moved from Nicholas Carew’s house. Too far from Whitehall for convenience! She’s at Sir Francis Bryan’s house on the Strand. So Francis Bryan is released to play host – he was just called infor questioning, nothing against him – though he’s the worst man at court. Now the king dines there nightly! Not bad for a half-wit from Wiltshire.’
