A taste of My new romance story on Anne Boleyn

THE DARK LADY – A ROMANTIC TALE OF ANNE BOLEYN

By Nadine Sutton

Part I
Anne bent over the figure in the narrow bed, in the small room off her own larger bedchamber

“Isabel,   Isabel.  Wake up.  But you must keep silent. ”
The younger woman opened her eyes to find her cousin standing by her bed, dressed still in her bed-gown. “What is it -Nan?” she asked sleepily.

“You must help me to put on my gown.  Madge is asleep and I would not wake her.”
Isabel shook her head to wake herself. Madge Shelton was on duty as Anne’s lady, that night and would be sleeping on a pallet in her friend’s room.  She climbed out of the bed and fumbled for her own gown.  Her own tire-woman, who helped her dress, was probably asleep in an alcove just outside the door.   From the light in the room, it was early in the morning.

“Nan, what is it?  Why are you awake so early?”

“Help me to dress. Here.”   

Anne Boleyn picked up a formal tawny coloured gown of rich satin, and a petticoat of white lawn, which lay atop a wooden press.  Holding them in her arms, she looked keenly at her friend over the crushed materials.   She spoke abruptly.  She was always imperious in her bearing.
“Help me take off this bed-gown and put this on.  Fetch me a smock.”

“Anne, why cannot Madge help you to dress?  Or Bess?”
“Because I require discretion, you foolish wench.  You have always been the most sensible of my cousins.”

Isabel tried to think of something to say.
“Enough prattling, Isabel.  I must be ready to meet the king as soon as maybe.  Help me to put on my kirtle and gown, and stockings and slippers.  Then, you can call Bess to help you. “

Isabel hurried to the press where Anne’s undergarments were kept and took out a smock, and stockings.   She began to help her cousin to put on her clothes.  Since her cousin had become the King’s constant companion, several years earlier, she lived in almost royal state, with her own apartments, finely decorated.  She had ladies to keep her company and wait on her.  Of course there were servants to do the more menial tasks.

Some of her ladies felt that she was overly haughty, in her manner towards them, but she was the King’s companion and likely to be his wife, so it was an honour to serve her. Many were cousins of hers; others had once been in service to queen Katherine. 

Isabel Bladon was one of the Duke of Norfolk’s many relatives.  She had known Anne, since they were children.  She was a few years younger than the Boleyn girl.  When Anne was finally gowned, she adjusted her French hood headdress, with its edging of small pearls.

“So now, cousin, you may go to call Bess.  I shall wait in my closet, until you are dressed.  But none of them must know where we are going.  Hurry, Isabel... we will be meeting the king.”

Isabel started, but she knew that it was wisest to do Anne’s bidding.  She awakened the old tire- woman.  Bess was far from young, but she was an experienced dresser. She didn’t care why Isabel was awake and requiring her clothes.  She helped her mistress to dress, swiftly and when she had returned to her trundle bed, they slipped out, and quietly moved along the passage to the staircase at Whitehall.

“My lady,” Isabel asked, as they began to climb the stairs, “Pray, where are we going, so secretly.”

She addressed Anne by her formal title of Lady Marquis of Pembroke, now that they were away from the private rooms.

“Hush, coz, come up. I‘ll tell thee, when we are safe. “

Isabel hurried up the steps. It was a cold January morning and she was eager to find out what was happening and return to a warm fire.
“You are to be my attendant, dear cousin.  I rely on your discretion.” Anne said in a soft voice. “I am to wed the King.   This morning, in secret.”
“Anne!” Isabel was startled into speaking loudly. “Is this true?”

Anne angrily put her hand over her mouth.  “Cousin, did I not warn you?  I thought you had more sense.” 

Chastened, Isabel fell silent and they walked along a dark passage to a small chamber where the King was waiting.  He took Anne in his arms and kissed her, before calling a man from the shadows in the corner of the room, to “haste and make them man and wife.”

She was to be a witness of the marriage, together with one of Henry’s gentlemen, Sir Henry Norris.  George Boleyn was also present.  The priest came forward, and began to recite the words of the wedding service. Isabel looked sideways at her cousin.  Anne looked a little puffy faced and tired. She was fortunate in having an olive complexion; this meant that she rarely looked pale, but her dark-brown eyes were not as lustrous as usual; she looked as if she had not slept.   Her beautiful black hair, where it showed under her hood, was still shining and lovely but there was a look of weariness about her.