clear that he wished to be her lover she told him that she would not be the mistress of any man and as, by reason of her unworthiness and the fact that he was married, she could not be his wife, that must be an end of his aspirations.
It was bold. But then, she lived by boldness. It had served her well in the beginning, but it was to be her downfall in the end.
My father could not bear to be crossed; in any case, he was obsessed by the woman. He wanted her so desperately that he contemplated drastic steps to get her.
We could not believe it at first—not even Wolsey, who knew the King as well as any of us. Wolsey was our enemy—my mother's and mine. He was a clever man who believed there was a need to produce a male heir, but for him there was a greater need than that, which was to placate the King. But he was an astute politician who would immediately see the folly in divorcing my mother in order to put Anne Boleyn on the throne. He had his eyes on an alliance with France. Divorce my mother, yes, but only in order to marry a princess, possibly of France.
I did not know how much the proposed divorce was due to the lack of a son and how much to the King's desire for Anne Boleyn. My father was adept at dissembling. He had the gift of being able to deceive himself in the face of logic, and he did it so effectively that one was inclined to believe him…as he believed himself.
He came to my mother one day and I was present. Looking back now, I think that made a turning point in our relationship.
My mother and I were embroidering together, which was something we often did. The Countess said it had a soothing effect and calmed the nerves. It did seem to do so, for my mother would become quite interested in the stitches and we would sometimes talk of happier subjects than that one which was uppermost in our minds.
When my father arrived, I rose and curtsied. He came toward us, smiling benignly.
“Well, Kate,” he said to my mother, “I would speak with you.”
He turned to me and laid a hand on my shoulders.
“So…you are keeping your mother company? Good. Very good. And getting on with your studies so that you do not disgrace us, eh?”
There was a faraway look in his eyes, and his mouth showed signs of tightening. They were aspects which always alarmed me as well as others because I was beginning to recognize what they meant.
His hand went to my head and he patted it.
“Growing up now. Well, well, I would speak with your mother. Go now. Go to your governess. Leave us…”
I curtsied and went, but on the other side of the door I paused. There was a small ante-room which led into the chamber in which they now were. I slipped into that room. I was going to commit the sin of eavesdropping. I could not restrain myself. So often I had felt I was groping in the dark, and how could I comfort my mother, how could I protect myself, if I did not know fully what against?
Shamelessly I hid myself and listened. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear every word.
“It is time we discussed this matter which is causing me so much grief,” he said.
“I wish to do so with all my heart,” she replied. “Ah,” he went on. “How well I remember the time we went through the ceremony of marriage. Do you recall it? You were so desolate.”
“Yes, neglected by all…”
“I suffered with you…my brother's widow … unwanted in Spain and no place for you here. I shall never forget.”
“I also have good reason to remember.”
“Unhappy days… until I changed all that.”
“Yes, you changed it.”
“All seemed set fair. We were young. We were in love. I was a romantic boy. I wanted to do what was right. I wanted to help you.”
“You were pleased with my person, I believe.”
“Kate…I have always been pleased with your person. It is this question which they are raising. It gives me sleepless nights. I cannot rest. It is on my mind … on my conscience. I feel a great anger against these probing churchmen who have raised this question. They believe ours is no true marriage. Think what that means, Kate.”
“I do not have to. It is untrue.”
“They