Darcey Bonnette: The King’s Mistress

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 The King’s Mistress Darcey Bonnette

Copyright

Dedication 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

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?”

I think about this. I am not sure how to answer his query. Do I tell him about my letters and numbers, my colors and shapes? What does he want to know? I tell him what I am most proud of.

“I never have any accidents anymore—not in three whole months. Nurse says I will have a pretty new gown.” I look up at him, beaming.

He grimaces at this. I do not think my answer pleases him. His lips twitch a moment as he stoops down, picking me up and carrying me to the window. “I shall tell you what is most important, what you should know at this great age of three,” he says, bouncing me a bit on his hip. “You are a Howard.” He looks into my face. “You are a Howard . You belong to the greatest family in the land.”

I am held by his gaze; his eyes are black, deep as a starless night. They are eyes that command attention. I am captivated and frightened at once.

I wrap my arms about his neck, pressing my cheek to his, hoping to endear myself to those black orbs that remind me so much of my doll’s eyes in their—what is the word? Lifelessness.

“Remember it,” he says. “Always remember it.”

“I shall,” I whisper in earnest.

Chapter 2

Awakening

1530

My father grips my shoulders and I gaze up at his narrow face, now creased in a rare smile. His exacting eyes crinkle at the corners. My lips lift in shy response. He is kneeling before me, his knee caught on the frothy pink lace of my gown.

“A little small for your age, but you’ll do,” he intones in a voice like sustained thunder. He places a silver circlet inlaid with seed pearls on my head. I reach up to finger the delicate headpiece, in awe. This is my first gift from the Duke of Norfolk. In fact, this is the first time he has sought me out for conversation since I was a wee girl.