“But,” he added, “having tasted bliss, I could not bear to give it up now.”
“Nor shall you,” she retorted. “I know Henry well. He wants us back at Court. He will speak sternly to us but that is not to be taken seriously. At heart he is rejoicing because we are coming home.”
Charles did not deny this. But he could not forget those noblemen who were his enemies and who would be ready to poison the King’s mind against him. If Wolsey had not been on his side, he felt, it would almost certainly be a cell in the Tower of London which would be awaiting him.
Wolsey had indeed been his friend, and it was he who had warned the Duke how to act. The King, Wolsey had told him, was extremely displeased with both his sister and her husband. It was a foolish—one might say treasonable—act to marry without the King’s consent, and so quickly after the Queen had become a widow. Wolsey trembled at the thought of the King’s anger, but knowing the great love he bore his sister he believed that His Grace might be slightly placated if Mary made over to him her French rents, which amounted to some twenty-four thousand pounds. Then there was the matter of the Queen’s dowry which Francois had promised to pay back to her. This was some two hundred thousand crowns. If the King was asked graciously to accept these monies, together with the Queen’s plate and jewels, he might show a little leniency.
Mary had laughed when she heard this. She had waved her hand airily:
“Let him have all my possessions. What do I care? All that matters is that we are together, Charles.”
“I doubt we shall be able to afford to live at Court.”
“I believe, sir, you have estates in Suffolk?”
“You will find them somewhat humble after all the splendor you have known.”
“I was never more unhappy than when I lived most splendidly, Charles. I shall be happy, if need be, in Suffolk. Not that I believe Henry will allow us to leave Court. Did he not always love to have us with him? Why, when he was about to plan a joust his first thought was: ‘Where is Mary? Where is Suffolk?’”
“That was before we had so offended him.”
“Nonsense! Henry is only offended with those he dislikes. He loves us both. We shall be forgiven.”
“At a great cost.”
“Who cares for the cost?”
“Twenty-four thousand pounds? Two hundred thousand crowns?”
“Oh come, Charles, am I not worth that?”
He laughed at her. She was worth all the riches of France and England … and indeed the world, he told her.
Now as they rode along she was remembering how she had left Paris accompanied by the nobility of the Court. Francois himself had ridden with her, a little sad at parting, she fancied.
She would miss him, she assured him. Evidently not as he would miss her, he replied.
“Why, Francois,” she told him on parting, “if there had not been such a paragon of many virtues in the world as Charles Brandon, then I think I might have loved you.”
Francois grimaced and when he kissed her in parting at St. Dennis he was very loth to let her go.
She had embraced Marguerite tenderly; she would always remember their friendship with pleasure, she told her.
Louise was affectionate, bearing no malice, because she was now a completely contented woman. Her blue eyes sparkled with delight and she seemed years younger, for she was a woman with a dream at last come true. Even Claude said goodbye as though she were a friend; but that might have been due to relief at the parting.
Then on to Calais, leaving that phase of her life behind her forever.
They stayed some weeks in Calais, and it was then that she had been aware of Charles’s fear. They dared not cross to England until they had Henry’s permission to return, and each day Charles had eagerly hoped for a messenger from his King.
Mary had been content to remain in Calais, for anywhere was a good place as long as Charles was in it; and she could not completely share his anxieties because she was certain that she would be able to win Henry to her side as easily as she had Francois.
And at last the message had come. Henry would receive them; but with his invitation, carefully couched, was Wolsey’s more explanatory letter. The King was displeased; it was necessary to placate him; the pair must come to England not as a married couple, but they might call themselves affianced and there should be a ceremony of marriage in England; but in the meantime Henry would receive them.
Thus they rode on to Greenwich.
Henry stood, legs apart, hands clasped behind his back, studying the pair who stood before him. His eyes were narrowed, his little mouth was tight. Secretly he was glad to see them but he was not going to let them know it yet.
A pace or so behind him, her face set in lines of anxiety, stood Katharine, his wife. She would have liked to offer them a warm welcome, but she dared not until Henry gave her a sign that she might.
Mary smiled at her brother, but he was not looking at her. That is because we are not yet alone, she assured herself. When we are, he will be quite different. She glanced at Katharine. Poor Katharine! Her appearance had not improved in the last months and she was looking her age which was several years more than Henry’s.
Mary knelt and kissed her brother’s hand; she then paid homage to the Queen.
“I am so happy to be home,” she said.
Henry’s mouth slackened a little, as he took her hand and led her into the Palace, while Katharine followed with Charles.
“Henry,” whispered Mary as they walked together, “how well you look! You are taller than ever. I had forgotten how truly magnificent you are.”
