Betrayed, Betrothed and Bedded. Juliet Landon

It was a fact of court life. It meant nothing.

      But if Sir Walter was ambitious for his sons, his wife was equally ambitious for her daughters, and any suggestion of interest from Henry would raise her expectations sky-high. ‘And you?’ said Lady Agnes gently. ‘He still flirts with you, does he?’

      Ginny turned a shelled walnut over and over in her fingers, studying its contours. ‘That’s why I’m glad to get away,’ she replied, aware that her mother’s two ladies were listening to her reply. They had known her since she was a babe. They were also aware of the king’s methods in pursuing women he wanted. ‘I’ve grown to admire Queen Anna,’ said Ginny after a pause. ‘She’s a lovely lady.’

      ‘Lovely, dear?’ said Lady Agnes. ‘I thought they said she was not.’

      The elder of the two ladies interrupted. ‘Men,’ she whispered, angrily. ‘They’ll say black is white if it suits them. Our Good King Henry will do whatever he pleases to get himself out of a situation he doesn’t much like, even slandering a good woman.’

      Again, Ginny’s hand came to rest and comfort her mother, understanding that this particular reference was not to the king’s present dilemma, but to his first wife, whose life was made a misery after his affections had changed. She had been much beloved by everyone, unlike his second. Ginny continued, ‘Queen Anna’s only fault is that she didn’t fit in with Henry’s expectations. She’s taller than he thought, for one thing, and Master Holbein’s painting made her look sweet and demure, which she is. But Master Holbein and she could converse in their native German so he was able to see much more of her inner loveliness, and that was what he portrayed. And then there was that awful fiasco at Rochester when she landed and Henry rushed down to surprise her without any warning. That really was the stupidest thing to do. What woman likes to be seen when she’s not looking her best, I ask you?’

      ‘Well,’ said her mother, ‘I’m pleased to know you like her. So what does Sir Walter think about all this? Is he—?’

      ‘Oh! I almost forgot. I have a letter for you. Wait, Mother, I’ll go up and get it from my pouch. He’ll tell you what’s happening, I expect.’

      With a space cleared on the table before her, Lady Agnes smoothed the parchment out, adjusted a pair of fragile spectacles on her nose and frowned at the words underlined by her moving finger, words she had clearly not expected. In summer, perhaps, but not in February. ‘He’s bringing the king,’ she murmured. ‘Again. Oh, my lord!’

      ‘Where? Here? Why could he not have told me himself?’

      ‘For two nights, for some hawking. With a few friends, before the court moves to Whitehall.’

      ‘With the queen? Does Queen Anna come, too?’

      ‘Er...no, dear. Not the queen.’

      ‘Hah!’ said the lady who’d spoken before. ‘What’s that all about, then? Not hawking, you can be sure of that.’

      ‘Hush, Joan,’ said Lady Agnes. ‘You’ve said enough already to land you in the Tower. He’s bringing with him...a husband...for our daughter Virginia.’ Her finger moved on, then reversed its direction, Lady Agnes repeating, ‘...a husband...for...Virginia.’

      ‘I don’t want a husband, thank you, Mother,’ Ginny said firmly, ‘and I certainly don’t want one of the king’s choosing. Send a message back. Thank you, but no.’

      Lady Agnes pushed the finger farther along while her two ladies, one useful for her wisdom, the other for her energy, leaned in to read the astonishing words in silence. ‘One of his gentlemen of the bedchamber, no less. Oh, Ginny! That’s a great honour. One of his own personal friends.’

      ‘Oh, good gracious, Mother! One of that crowd. I’d rather...’ The words of denial froze on her lips as the picture formed in her mind of yesterday’s little scene in the stable yard at Hampton Court Palace when a certain gentleman of the king’s bedchamber had appeared at her father’s side for no very good reason. At least, that was how it had seemed. What had he been doing there? ‘Who, Mother? Does Father say who it is? And does he say why the king is involving himself in my future?’ Unconsciously, a hand crept up to rest over her heart, pulsing to the heavy thud beneath her stiffly boned bodice.

      ‘Yes. He says the king regards you highly for your comeliness and charm, and for your assistance to Her Grace the queen, and...’

      ‘Oh, I don’t mean all that flummery, Mother. I’ve done no more than anyone else would have. Who does he propose as a husband and what’s the deal? I’ve learned enough in my short time at court to know he doesn’t give something for nothing and certainly not to a woman. Who is it?’

      Lady Agnes sat back, clearly taken by surprise, her pale eyes staring about her in bewilderment. ‘He’s bringing our neighbour, Sir Jon Raemon,’ she said. ‘He thinks the match would be to both your advantages and Sir Jon has already expressed a willingness for it. Well, what d’ye think of that?’

      What did she think? Disbelief. Shock. Rebellion. Elation. Numbness.

      ‘I’ll tell you what I think of that, Mother,’ Ginny said. ‘I think the king has perhaps not been made aware of Sir Jon’s rejection of the very same proposal that Father made to him only a few years ago. So to say that Sir Jon is willing must be utter nonsense when he’s barely looked my way in four weeks of living under the same roofs. And anyway, I’m not willing. Can’t stand the man.’

      ‘Because of what happened when you were still a lass?’ Lady Agnes said, placing a dish of nuts on one corner of the letter. ‘Oh, come now, Ginny. That’s all water under the bridge. It was politics. Nothing personal. Your father and he did not fall out about it, so why should you? You know how these things go. A man has to choose carefully who he marries and for what purpose, and the first Lady Raemon brought him far more wealth than you could ever have done, even though Sir Walter’s offer was very generous.’

      ‘Which suggests,’ said Mistress Joan, ‘that the king has made him an even more generous offer that he cannot refuse and that there might also be something in it for Sir Walter. Sir Jon is now a widower and he needs an heir. Sir Walter is ready for a step up in the world and Virginia deserves a reward for her duty to the queen.’

      Ginny’s tone was bitingly sarcastic. ‘Thank you for putting it so simply, Mistress Joan. That seems to be the situation in a nutshell. If ever a woman felt more like a pawn on a chessboard, then I cannot imagine her humiliation. She’s supposed to be grateful for the reward of a husband she doesn’t want, just for doing her duty. The men, however, get their rewards, whatever they are, for falling in with the king’s wishes. There must be something here I’ve missed, but for the life of me I cannot see it, Mother.’ With a scrape of her stool through the rushes, Ginny stood up to go. ‘I’ll go up and change, if you’ll excuse me.’

      ‘Ginny, dear, I wish you’d see this differently. It’s an honour we cannot afford to refuse. You must know that.’

      ‘It’s an honour I can refuse quite easily,’ Ginny said. ‘There are plenty of marriageable women swarming around the court, waiting for Sir Jon to glance their way, and I’m not one of them.’

      ‘He’s so handsome,’ said the other lady coyly, thinking it might help.

      ‘Mistress Molly,’ said Ginny, scathingly, ‘they all are. The king surrounds himself with tall, good-looking, virile bucks who dance well, joust and hunt well, gamble more than they can afford, make conversation and music to keep him entertained. That’s what he pays them for. Even the new queen thinks them foolish beyond words.’

      ‘Does she have any English words yet?’ said Mistress Joan.

      ‘Indeed she does. She learns quickly. She’s a darling.’

      Summoning the servants to clear away the dishes, Lady Agnes rose to her feet and folded the letter into her pouch. ‘Such short notice,’ she said. ‘I wish he’d have given me a week instead of two days. Joan, I want you to go and make