Chapter Six

By winter, when the trees were bare and the flowers of the magnificent garden were shriveled and dead, Queen Claude had taken to her bed, heavy and awkward with child. As a woman who treasured quiet, calming influences at such a time, she rarely required my presence in her chamber. In these periods of idleness, I had taken in recent days to studying in the library and wandering around the palace uselessly.

On one of the latter occasions, King Francois found me, my slightly hooked nose pressed childishly against a cold, frosted window, staring out at a series of frozen rosebushes.

“Mistress Boleyn,” he greeted me with mock courtesy.

“Your Highness,” I replied, sinking in a small curtsey. I hardly bothered with such ceremonious gestures around Francois, when we were in private situations such as these.

“I notice that you have been unoccupied as of late. Your small footsteps have been rattling restlessly in these hallways, have they not?” he asked in jest.

I sighed. “Her Highness never has need of me, at least while she is withdrawn into her childbed chamber. It has been very boring not running errands for her, or entertaining her in some simple way.”

His black eyes flashed salaciously. “Myself, I like to find…other types…of pursuits to pass time while Her Highness is in her confinement. You would do well to learn from me.”

I smirked, knowing exactly what sorts of pursuits Francois was referring to. “You engage in such practices even when your wife is up and about. And surely you are not on about seducing me again, are you Your Highness? I had so dearly hoped you had given up on me.”

He faked a look of forlorn disappointment. “Still determined to remain a dried up spinster, ma belle? It is of no consequence to me, for I have just realized exactly where you belong when not serving your mistress,” he said with a flourish.

“And where is that? Not in your bed, I hope,” I said dryly.

“Ah, so you’ve figured me out.” He turned his dark head to gaze out the window. Despite the joke in his tone of voice, I also thought I detected a tinge of sadness.

“What is troubling you, Your Highness?” I ventured uncertainly.

He looked back at me. “So you have not heard the declaration, ma chere? If you had, I am doubtful you would be so lighthearted.”

My brow furrowed in thought. “What declaration?”

Francois’ eyes widened in mild surprise. “You truly do not know, then? Well, I expect the letter from your father will arrive shortly.” Seeing my testy expression, he added, “However, I will tell you myself.” Always having a flair for the dramatic, Francois paused momentarily before resuming his speech. “All English subjects in France have been advised to return to England. We are sure that includes you as well, ma petite Boleyn.”

I froze, my face and feelings both aghast. “But—but I do not want to leave France!” I exclaimed impetuously, with more force than I had intended.

“We are on the brink of war, ma chere. Your England has made a pact with the Emperor, and things will not be peaceful for much longer,” Francois said gently. “We wish you could stay, but it is unlikely, to say the least.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I must retire to my chamber. I need to write my father quickly.” I curtseyed hastily, and without waiting for a response from Francois, breezed past him through the corridor, desperate to save my future in France. My damask skirts rustled as I walked, and I left the scent of rosewater in my wake.

…..

By the time I had scrawled a messy plea to my father, I was already too late. There was a sharp knock at my door, and my maid opened it to reveal a tall, liveried messenger.

“Pour Mademoiselle Boleyn,” he said, bowing as he handed the envelope to the girl. Once she had closed the door, I was already upon her, tearing it from her grasp.

“Give that to me,” I hissed, though it was unnecessary as she easily relinquished it. My letter opener in hand as though it was a sword, I ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter violently. I peered at my father’s neat, precise calligraphy in the candlelight.

Dear Anne,

I have made arrangements for you to embark on the next ship to England from Calais. His Majesty has recently signed a treaty with Emperor Charles. Together, war will soon be waged on France. You are to come home immediately. Your brother George will be arriving shortly to escort you upon your journey home.

Sir Thomas Boleyn

I smiled wryly despite myself. No pleasantries, no kind greeting, and certainly no consideration that I might wish to stay in France. How like my father, to only think of matters of expediency, and removing his daughter from the enemy’s land before he was looked upon with disfavor. But I am being unfair to him, I admitted to myself, I know he is worried about the safety of his youngest daughter, and I am thankful for that.

The letter also told me that there was no chance of my being able to remain in France. George was likely already on his way, and arrangements had been made for my return home. There was no turning back.

Immediately, I wished my sister Mary was there, so that I would have someone to rage to. I wanted to stamp back and forth across my room, cursing wildly in fury at my fate. But what was the use if there was no one to listen? Pressing my hands to my eyes until I could see spots, I felt warm tears begin to slip through my fingertips.

Flinging myself upon my bed in despair and defeat, I began to cry softly into my white, linen pillowcase.

…..

Although the sun was shining on the day I was to leave France, it was terribly cold, and I pulled my wool cloak tighter around me. I put on my most energetic and hopeful smile and I bade my farewells.

I fell into a graceful curtsey before Francois and murmured decorously, “I thank Your Highness and the queen for such lovely treatment and the opportunity to serve you.”

He raised me up, a mischievous smirk on his face and in his eyes. “Enough of that, ma chere. This could be the last time we see each other, and you are bothering with such useless words?”

“I will miss you and Her Grace immensely,” I said truthfully. “Nothing can ever compare to all that I have learned in the French Court, or to the devotion I have toward you both.”

“Her Grace wished to be here and see you off as well,” Francois told me. “You are one of her favorite attendants.”

“Likely because I refused to fall for your charms,” I muttered. “I visited her this morning. I pray in earnest for the good health of both her and your children.”

“Merci beaucoup, ma petite Boleyn. We shall pray for yours as well.” He saw my worried expression and added comfortingly, “You will do well in England. With all the social training you have had in France, the most civilized court in the world, how could you not?”

“Thank you.” I nodded in acceptance and curtsied again. “I’m afraid my dear brother in getting impatient,” I chuckled, turning toward the ship. Indeed, George was on the deck, glaring at me and looking pointedly at his pocket watch. I shrugged helplessly and looked at Francois. “Farewell, Your Highness.”

“Au revoir, ma chere.” He held out his hand to me, and I kissed his ring in a formal fashion. I felt a sudden urge to embrace the man who had been almost like a brother to me during my years away from home, though I restrained my emotions. I did not doubt that such a gesture would be improper, even though I knew Francois would not mind.

I stepped back from him and faced the ship, staring up at this vessel which would take me back to England, now a strange land to me. George met me at the bottom of the ramp and took my arm gently, then began to half-drag me upon the ship.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, attempting to tug my arm from his grasp.

“The ship was supposed to leave a quarter of an hour ago. Silly girl, holding everybody up from going home.” Despite his words, he grinned down at me good-naturedly, and I knew he was grateful that I was finally returning to England, even if I was not. “Don’t look so sour,” he commanded me. “Trust me, England is not as bad as you make it out to be. You’ll flourish there.”

“Whatever you say, George,” I said absentmindedly.

The ship began to move, and while one of my arms was clutching George in fear, the other was waving good-bye to the country and people who had taught me so much. I was holding back tears as I began to sail towards the bright new destiny that lay before me, only I did not know it yet.

…..

A/N: That ends part one of my story: France. Up next shall be the chapters encompassing part two: Henry Percy. Also look out for me to be combining and editing previous chapters. Don’t be surprised if my chapter count suddenly decreases. Please review with lots of constructive criticism because it’s nice.