The House Of Allerbrook. Valerie Anand

don’t agree,” said Francis, “then you must shift for yourself. This will no longer be your home. Go to the Lanyons and ask if they’ll take in another ill-behaved girl who’s been ejected from Allerbrook House. Pity there aren’t any nunneries left now where I could send you. But I won’t have you here. Smile and do as you’re bid, and I’ll see it’s a good wedding and I’ll say it’s what you want, what you’ve chosen. I’ll add to your dowry—you’ll be able to put your new home well and truly to rights. It won’t be a bad bargain.”

      “Francis, please don’t do this! What have I done that’s so terrible? Refuse to become someone’s mistress? Even if the man was the king, does it make any difference? Oh, what can I say to make you understand? Ask Dr. Spenlove what he thinks! He won’t approve of this, you know he won’t….”

      “Spenlove will mind his tongue or else leave my employment.”

      “Francis, please…!”

      She burst into tears, but Francis merely seized hold of her, clapped a hand over her mouth and marched her indoors. He took her to her bedchamber, pushed her in and locked the door after her. She lay on the bed for most of the day, alternately crying and trying in vain to think of a way out. She had always known that Francis had a hard streak in him. He had taken on the duty of caring for his sisters, but in Francis’s mind this was balanced by their duty to obey him. He had abandoned Sybil for failing him. He would abandon Jane as easily.

      She had another dreadful night, visualizing herself turned out, wandering, seeking for shelter, perhaps being taken in by the Lanyons out of charity, perhaps ending up as Sybil apparently had—a servant on a farm.

      At Rixons she would at least be mistress of some kind of house, however ill-kempt; she would be a wife; and yes, there might be children. The thought of going to bed with Harry Hudd made her feel ill, but in the dark she wouldn’t be able to see him. For the first time she felt real sympathy for King Henry. When confronted with Anna of Cleves, his feelings had probably been similar to Jane’s now.

      Harry came back the following morning for his answer. Jane, her eyes heavy and her face pale from lack of sleep, once more greeted him in the courtyard. She wore the same dress as on the previous day, a plain brown affair, opening over a green linen underskirt. It was respectable but not luxurious, nothing like the gown of a court lady.

      Harry Hudd bowed, and smiled his unlovely smile and asked for his answer and Jane, trying to smile back, said yes. The wedding took place one month later, early in July, at St. Anne’s in Clicket. Father Drew conducted the service. Both he and Dr. Spenlove had been astonished by her choice, as indeed had everyone else. Jane was obliged to parry astounded protests and questions from Lisa, Peggy, the maids, the grooms, neighbours and friends alike. It was pride as much as fear of Francis that made her hold up her chin and declare that this was what she wanted.

      And now it was done, and here she was in the Rixons farmhouse, which had one untidy living room, a kitchen with an earth floor, and two spartan bedchambers upstairs under the thatch, and she would be Mistress Harry Hudd for as long as they both should live.

      Harry, having finished what he was about, rolled out of bed and said, “Well, now. Milkin’. Can’t go lazin’ around here all the day long. I can hear they cows lowin’ now. Up thee comes, maid,” and held out a hand to her. Another day at Rixons had begun.

      She tried to make the best of it. She was probably better off than little Kate Howard, who was now married to the king. There had been proclamations everywhere, announcing that Queen Anna was henceforth to be known as Lady Anna of Cleves, the king’s dear sister, and would live in state but away from the court. Jane wondered if Lady Anna felt relieved, but it must have been a comedown, to be deprived of a crown. Thomas Cromwell, whom the king held responsible for the whole disaster of the Cleves marriage, had been beheaded. No, there were certainly ways in which Mistress Jane Hudd had blessings worth counting.