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The King’s Mistress Darcey Bonnette Copyright Published by Avon an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF 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 Copyright 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?”
