скачать книгу бесплатно
The King’s Mistress
Darcey Bonnette
She holds the key to a kingdom’s future…When young Mary Howard receives the news that she will be leaving her home for the grand court of King Henry VIII, to attend his mistress Anne Boleyn, she is ecstatic. Everything Anne touches seems to turn to gold, and Mary is certain Anne will one day become Queen. But Mary has also seen the King’s fickle nature and how easily he discards those who were once close to him…Discovering that she is a pawn in a carefully orchestrated plot devised by her father, the duke of Norfolk, Mary dare not disobey him. Yet despite all of her efforts to please him, she too falls prey to his cold wrath. Not until she becomes betrothed to Harry Fitzroy, the Duke of Richmond and son to King Henry VIII, does Mary finds the love and approval she s been seeking.But just when Mary believes she is finally free of her father, the tides turn. Now Mary must learn to play her part well in a dangerous chess game that could change her life and the course of history.An unforgettable drama of betrayal, ambition, lost innocence and perseverance, perfect for fans of Phillipa Gregory's novels and TV series such as The Tudors.Previously published as Secrets of the Tudor Court.
The King’s Mistress
Darcey Bonnette
Copyright
Published by Avon an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers in 2011 as Secrets of the Tudor Court
This ebook edition published by HarperCollins Publishers in 2017
Copyright © D.L Bogdan 2011
Darcey Bonnette asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © 2017 ISBN: 9780007434251
Version: 2017-01-11
Dedication
To my grandfather, for giving me a love of storytelling; for my father, for giving me a love of words; and for my mother, for giving me a love of reading
Contents
Cover (#ua2bb1984-a617-5d2e-84d1-c286671a0632)
Title Page (#u8be863c4-499a-5b86-a402-6471c586385b)
Copyright
Dedication (#u3ba4fe04-992b-5262-bf91-ef1ee2b0b485)
PROLOGUE - An Entrance
Chapter 1 - Doll’s Eyes
Chapter 2 - Awakening
Chapter 3 - Farewell to Kenninghall
Chapter 4 - London!
Chapter 5 - Anne
Chapter 6 - The King’s Great Matter
Chapter 7 - The Marquess of Pembroke
Chapter 8 - France
Chapter 9 - Anne’s Secret
Chapter 10 - Anna Regina
Chapter 11 - A Royal Birth
Chapter 12 - The Duchess of Richmond
Chapter 13 - Falling Stars
Chapter 14 - My Harry
Chapter 15 - The Fight
Chapter 16 - The German Bride
Chapter 17 - A Rose Named Kitty
Chapter 18 - Thorns
Chapter 19 - A Poet’s Heart
Chapter 20 - A True Howard
Chapter 21 - Long Live the King!
Chapter 22 - The Reigate Years
Chapter 23 - Rainy Days
Chapter 24 - Norfolk and Me
EPILOGUE - Elizabeth Stafford Howard
Acknowledgements
A Reading Group Guide
Discussion Questions
About the Author
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
An Entrance
Elizabeth Stafford Howard, spring 1519
He is pulling my hair—it is going to be torn from my scalp, I am sure of it. I struggle and fight against him. The pains grip my womb. I cup my rounded belly with one hand and claw my husband’s wrist with the other.
“Let me go!” I cry. “Please! The baby is coming! You’re going to hurt the baby!”
He says nothing but continues to pull me off the bed by my hair. It hurts … oh, it hurts. To my horror I see the glint of his dagger as he removes it from its sheath. He lowers it in one wild gesture, striking my head near where he is pulling my hair. I am unsure of his aims. Is he going to chop my hair off? Is he going to chop me up?
“Stop …” I beg as he continues to drag me about the house in front of cold-eyed servants who do not interfere with his “discipline.”
At long last he drops me on the cold stone floor in front of my bedchamber. The pains are coming closer together. I am writhing in agony. The wound on my head is bleeding. Warm red liquid runs down my face into my eyes.
He walks away.
When his footfalls can no longer be heard a servant comes forward to help me to my bed. It is safe now, I suppose. The midwife, cowering in a corner, inches forward.
“What on God’s earth could you have done to warrant that man’s displeasure?” she asks in her country accent as she wipes clean my face and attends to the dagger wound.
I look at her in despair. “I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “I never know.”
And this is how my child enters this world. I name her Mary, after the Blessed Virgin. Perhaps so named, God will show her more favor than He has condescended to show me.
Chapter 1
Doll’s Eyes
Mary Howard, 1522
They tell me my father is a great man and I must be his pretty little lady. I must behave myself and stay clean. I wonder what it is to be a great man. I know that he is a favored servant of His Majesty King Henry VIII, and he is a very brave knight. I try to picture him. Is he tall? Is he handsome? I cannot remember. He is not home very much. I cling to my brother Henry’s hand and await my lord, who is to see us and comment on our progress. Our progress on what, I do not know. On being people, I suppose.
My sister, Catherine—she is a bigger girl than me and quite haughty—stands beside Henry. My other brother Thomas is at the end, shuffling from foot to foot. We are a pretty row of little soldiers.
When he appears in the nursery with Mother, another foreign figure to our nursery, he reviews us all. He ruffles Thomas’s blond hair and shakes Henry’s outstretched hand. He compliments my sister on her smart dress.
He regards me a long moment. “Mary,” he says, as though it is a new sound to his ears. “How old are you now?”
“I am three,” I tell him proudly.
He is a great man. I can tell. He is so stately and composed, like a living portrait.
“Three,” he says. “And what do you know at this great age of three?”
I think about this. I am not sure how to answer his query. Do I tell him about my letters and numbers, my colors and shapes? What does he want to know? I tell him what I am most proud of.
“I never have any accidents anymore—not in three whole months. Nurse says I will have a pretty new gown.” I look up at him, beaming.
He grimaces at this. I do not think my answer pleases him. His lips twitch a moment as he stoops down, picking me up and carrying me to the window. “I shall tell you what is most important, what you should know at this great age of three,” he says, bouncing me a bit on his hip. “You are a Howard.” He looks into my face. “You are a Howard. You belong to the greatest family in the land.”
I am held by his gaze; his eyes are black, deep as a starless night. They are eyes that command attention. I am captivated and frightened at once.
I wrap my arms about his neck, pressing my cheek to his, hoping to endear myself to those black orbs that remind me so much of my doll’s eyes in their—what is the word? Lifelessness.
“Remember it,” he says. “Always remember it.”
“I shall,” I whisper in earnest.
Chapter 2
Awakening
1530
My father grips my shoulders and I gaze up at his narrow face, now creased in a rare smile. His exacting eyes crinkle at the corners. My lips lift in shy response. He is kneeling before me, his knee caught on the frothy pink lace of my gown.
“A little small for your age, but you’ll do,” he intones in a voice like sustained thunder. He places a silver circlet inlaid with seed pearls on my head. I reach up to finger the delicate headpiece, in awe. This is my first gift from the Duke of Norfolk. In fact, this is the first time he has sought me out for conversation since I was a wee girl.
He rises and the abrupt movement of his knee parting company with my gown rocks me off balance. I look up. He is a thin man, which gives him the appearance of being tall. His eyes are cold again, his smile converted to a grim line slashed across his face. For a long moment he gazes upon me with eyes that are hard and inscrutable. His hands are locked behind his back. He circles me.
“You examine her like a horse at the fair,” my mother comments.
“And so she is,” he snaps. Mother shrinks back. She bows her head and places a curled hand against her cheek, though he did not strike her. She does this every time he speaks to her, as though soothing the sting of a future blow in advance.
I am too fascinated by my gift to pay attention to their exchange. By now I have removed the little circlet and am ogling the pearls, hoping to capture my parents’ attention once more. Their visits to Kenninghall are too rare. “Is it real?” I ask. At eleven I am already learning to appreciate the measure of good jewels.
“Silly question—of course it’s real!” he cries, patting my shoulder.
I clutch it to my chest and scrunch up my shoulders, smiling.
“Ah, a true Howard girl.” He laughs. “Can’t resist a shiny bauble. Go now, off with you!”
I run down the rush-strewn hallway, anticipating my maid’s expression when she beholds the finery my father bestowed upon me. What will Bess make of the gift? I am stopped short, however, by the sound of raised voices. I slow my feet and turn, straining my ears.
