I, Jane: In The Court of Henry VIII by Diane Haeger Read Free Book Online

on the voyage to France in the company of the king’s sister?”
    It had sounded so much better in her mind.
    “There must be a way. We are certainly close now.”
    “We are no closer now than that steward over there is to the throne of England,” John said coolly.
    “She thought herself better than us,” Margery grumbled of their hostess.
    “Clearly,” John agreed.
    “Loutish boors,” said Edward.
    “No better,” John said, biting back the same smile his eldest son tried to hide from his mother.
    “We are gentry as well! By my heaven, you were knighted!” Margery exclaimed heatedly as other guests swirled around them.
    “But they are wealthy, and that does make all the difference.”
    “Well, I am the one between us who bears the blood of royalty, not her!” Margery countered indignantly.
    “For all of the good that trickle of crimson has done us,” John remarked.
    “Edward deserves to be in that party to France as a page of honor far more than the son of some wool merchant!”
    She spoke the words harshly, but her envy could not be masked. Just then, a trumpet fanfare announced dinner, just as it was done at court banquets. Her resolve hardened along with her expression.
    “How must you feel to see your son demeaned in this way?”
    John rolled his eyes. “I know not if that was the intention.”
    “Well, it most certainly was the result. She believes me to be no better than one of her servants. I could see it clearly on her face, and therefore our son is no better. That shall not stand! I have been immortalized by poets. Not her! Anyone who is anyone has read
Garland of Laurel
and knows I am the subject,” she whispered heatedly.
    Now she wanted to spite Lady Dormer as much as to elevate her son.
    They began the slow shuffle along with the other guests toward the elegant dining hall. “Will you write to your cousin at court now, or shall I?” Margery asked.
    It was clear she meant to see it done…no matter what her husband said in response.
    As angry talk of the incident in Savernake Forest finally began to fade at Wolf Hall, Jane was allowed back into the gardens to play with the other children. She had not, however, minded being sequestered at first because of her jaggedly shorn hair, which itched madly when tucked beneath her tight-fitting gabled hood.
    She did not mind solitude. Jane liked to read on her own. Anything she secretly took from her father’s library was a welcomechallenge, and she preferred it over the Psalter that Father James, their village priest and tutor, forced each of the children to read from every day.
    She might be young, but Jane craved escape with spirit and excitement. Stories of kings and queens, daring knights, and beautiful princesses captured her. Granted, there was not much of that to be had in John Seymour’s musty library, but she had secretly come upon a small volume of
The Canterbury Tales
, which she kept like spoils beneath her mattress. Theft made the reading of the verses all the more sweet.
    She was not a swift reader, and many things she did not understand, so it seemed to take an eternity to move through the bawdy stories, but when she could capture a moment by candlelight when she was meant to be asleep, she easily lost herself in the smart, humorous vignettes, like “The Prioress’s Tale.”
    The stories reminded her of William Dormer. That boy was actually going to meet the king! He was going to wear incredible costumes and wait on a queen. It was as if he had leapt out of the pages of her book.
    One late afternoon, when she was covertly reading, she was so lost in her fantasies that she did not hear the frantic knock at her door. A moment later, Thomas dashed inside, his face alive with excitement.
    “Sister, you must come at once!” he said urgently. “Downstairs! You’ll not believe what they are saying!”
    Jane slipped the book back beneath her mattress, then picked up her hood and reluctantly fitted it back onto her head.
    “What is