The King’s Mistress. Darcey Bonnette

      The King’s Mistress

      Darcey Bonnette

      Copyright

      Published by Avon an imprint of

      HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

      1 London Bridge Street

      London SE1 9GF

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      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

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

       Dedication

      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?”