Then there was Mary to be faced. The truth could not be kept from her. Charles was present when the King told her that she must be ready to leave for Calais the following May.
She looked from her brother to the man she loved with stony reproach; her lips quivered, her eyes blazed; then she turned and, forgetting the respect due to the King, walked hurriedly from his presence.
Henry—and Charles—would have been less alarmed had she shouted her protest at them.
The situation needed careful handling, thought the King. Mary was sullen; she never ceased to reproach him. There were occasions when she refused to continue with preparations for her marriage.
It is Brandon, of a certainty, Henry told himself. She still hopes for Brandon. If he were out of the way she would be more inclined to reason.
He sent for Charles.
“My friend,” he said, “I propose sending you as my ambassador to the Netherlands. You should make your preparations without delay.”
Charles bowed. Now that he was back, now that he had seen her again, he had no wish to go. He felt himself being caught up in her wild hopes. He dared not be alone with her. She would be arrogant in her desire; and how could he be sure that he could persuade her that they could so easily destroy themselves?
In her opinion, all should be tossed away for the sake of love; but that was because she was an inexperienced girl. She had been pampered all her life; she did not believe that the world would ever cease to cosset her. Brandon was older; he had seen beyond the glittering Court; he remembered men who had been sent to the Tower for smaller offenses, and only walked out to the block.
It would be well if he escaped before he were drawn into that conflagration about which she did not seem to understand they were dancing like two moths round a candle flame.
“And, Charles,” went on Henry, “you shall go in such a manner as will add to your dignity. Lord Lisle will be no more. Elizabeth Grey is not for you. I fancy Margaret will smile more kindly on the Duke of Suffolk.”
Here was honor indeed; but his first thought was: If the Duke of Suffolk can aspire to the hand of an Archduchess, why not to that of a princess?
But he saw the purpose in his King’s eyes and made ready to leave for the Netherlands.
The French Proposal
BEFORE THE PRINCESS MARY were laid out the treasures which had been brought for her inspection. There were rich fabrics, velvets and cloth of gold, and miniver and martin with which to fur her garments; there were necklaces, coronals and girdles all sparkling with priceless gems.
She stared at them stonily.
Lady Guildford held up a chain of gold set with rubies. “But look at this, my lady. Try it on. Is it not exquisite?”
Mary turned her head away.
“Please allow me, my lady. There! Oh, but it is so becoming and you have always loved such beautiful ornaments!”
Mary snatched the trinket from her neck and threw it onto her bed, where Lady Guildford had set out the other treasures.
“Do not bother me,” said Mary.
“But the King has asked to be told your opinion of these gifts.”
“Gifts!” cried Mary. “They are not gifts, for gifts are given freely. These are bribes.”
Lady Guildford trembled, because the King had come into the room smiling, certain of the pleasure the jewels must give his sister.
“Ha!” he cried. “So there is my little sister. Decking herself out with jewels, eh? And how does she like them?”
Mary turned her face to him and he was startled by her pallor. Her blue eyes seemed enormous. Could it be that she had lost flesh and that was why she looked so?
“She likes them not,” snapped Mary.
Henry’s face crumpled in disappointment, and Lady Guildford held her breath in dismay. He would be angry, and like everyone else at Court, she dreaded the King’s outbursts of anger. But because this was his sister whom he loved so deeply he was only filled with sorrow.
“And I had taken such care in choosing what I thought would please you.”
She turned to him and threw her arms about his neck. “You know well how to please me. You do not have to buy costly jewels. All you have to do is stop this marriage.”
“Sister … little Mary … you do not understand what you ask.”
“Do I not? It is I who have to make this marriage, is it not? I assure you I understand more than any.”
He stroked her hair and Lady Guildford was amazed because she was sure that was a glint of tears she saw in his eyes. He forgave his sister her boldness; he suffered with her; it must be true that Henry loved nobody—not even his wife—as he loved his beautiful sister.
“Mary,” he said gently, “if we broke off this marriage it would mean our friendship with the Emperor was broken. He is our ally against the French. If I wrote to him and said there shall be no marriage because my sister has no stomach for it, there might even be war between our countries.”
