“Why did you come here now, Mistress Popyncourt?” he demanded.
“To discover the truth about my mother, Sire, and to recover my inheritance from my father.”
“Not to resume your liaison with the duc de Longueville?”
“No, Sire.” That, at least, was true.
“And now that you are a woman of property, will you stay in France?”
This was the difficult moment, I thought, even more fraught with danger than warding off the king’s lecherous advances. Indeed, he seemed to have lost interest in making love to me.
“There is more to hold me here than the land, Your Grace,” I said carefully. “I felt affection for the late duke, but what I share with his half brother is much deeper than that. We wish to marry.”
“He has no place at court,” the king reminded me. “You could, if you chose.” A flicker of his earlier amorous interest reappeared, but it was not strong enough to seem threatening. I remembered how he had helped Mary Tudor wed Charles Brandon. I prayed he still possessed that chivalrous streak.
“If it please Your Grace, I should like to live with my husband on the land my father owned.”
To my own surprise, I had found contentment living in the country. Like Lady Catherine at Fyfield, I had discovered that there was more to life than the struggle to stay afloat in the dangerous waters at court.
Lifting my bowed head, I dared meet the king’s eyes. “The Lady Mary was my mistress for many years and is still my friend. She has told me of your generosity and kindness to her in the days after King Louis’ death, and of your understanding and compassion when she confessed to you her desire to wed the Duke of Suffolk. You helped her to find great happiness, Your Grace. Dare I hope you might do the same for me?”
The king of France looked at me askance. And then he began to laugh.
“Boldness becomes you, Mistress Popyncourt,” he managed to say, still laughing, “but you must not make a habit of it.”
“Mayhap it would be safest then,” I suggested, “if I removed myself from Amboise.”
“Go.” He made a shooing motion. “Wed your lover and settle on your estates. You’ll have no more trouble from the Jumelles.”
I fled before he could change his mind, found Guy, and left the king’s house, even though by then it was late at night. As we rode toward home, I told Guy everything that had transpired in the king’s bedchamber. By the end of my account, he was smiling broadly.
“I can almost feel sorry for His Grace. He will never know the joy I have found in your company.”
I grinned back at him. I understood now why Maman had told me so little. I had been too young to be burdened with her secrets. She’d wanted to protect me. Perhaps that was even why Uncle had remained silent all these years. I had been safe as I was, but until I met Guy again, I had lived only half a life. The most real part of being at court had been the masques I’d helped create and sometimes performed in. My belief that I was part of a family there? That had been an illusion.
But at last I had found true happiness. I had come home. I had reclaimed the part of my heritage that mattered most. I had found Guy again and my love for him felt right. I had no doubts about our future. I would not forget the people who had been part of my life for so long. I would write to Mary Tudor and to Harry Guildford and think of them often with great fondness. But the friend who mattered most to me was also my lover and soon would be my husband.
I’d once thought of Greenwich as the Pleasure Palace. Now I knew better. True pleasure combines happiness and contentment with passionate love. No place can provide that. Only a person is capable of bringing all those things into another’s life. The man who had brought them into mine rode beside me through the night. Dawn found us on our own land again and we followed its golden light all the way home.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Jane Popyncourt was a real person. She was French, or perhaps Flemish. She was in England by 1498, in the royal household at Eltham and teaching French to the two princesses, Margaret and Mary Tudor, through daily conversation. In 1513–14, when the duc de Longueville was awaiting payment of his ransom in England, comfortably lodged at court, Jane became his mistress. When King Louis XII of France struck Jane’s name off the list of Mary Tudor’s gentlewomen, he declared that she should be burnt. Why he thought so is not clear. At some point Jane was one of Catherine of Aragon’s maids of honor. She finally left England in May 1516, taking with her a gift of £100 from Henry VIII. After the duc de Longueville’s death later that same year, she remained in France and corresponded regularly with her former mistress, Mary Tudor, who had by then married Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. As late as 1528, Jane was still alive, still living in France, and apparently had influential friends at the French court.
Everything else I have written about Jane Popyncourt is my own invention and an attempt to explain the mysteries that surround her. I have portrayed other real people in this novel with as much accuracy as I could. They may not have had the same relationship with Jane that I have given them, but their interaction with other historical figures agrees with what modern scholars know of them.
For those who want to read more about the court and courtiers at the time of Henry VII and Henry VIII, I suggest Mary Louise Bruce’s The Making of Henry VIII and Alison Weir’s Henry VIII and His Court. Both books were invaluable to me in writing this novel, as was Simon Thurley’s The Royal Palaces of Tudor England. For a complete bibliography of my sources, please consult my website at www.KateEmersonHistoricals.com.
I did fudge two historical facts. One is the date of the French raid on Brighton. Most sources say only that it occurred in the spring of 1514, but I did find one that specified it took place in May. For dramatic purposes I needed to have the French attack before May Day. The other is the amount spent on the duc de Longueville’s upkeep in the Tower of London. An account of royal expenses indicates that holding the duke and six others cost £13 65. 8d. but does not specify how long a period was paid for with that amount. I hope I may be forgiven for taking these small liberties with historical accuracy.
I’ve also used a bit of poetic license in writing about the Valentine’s Day lottery. A description of a later Valentine’s Day at court indicates that the men drew the names, not the women, and that gifts were given by both parties. The gifts did, however, include such items as spaniels, caged birds, embroidered sleeves, smocks, lace, and artificial flowers.
Some purists may object that Jane’s vocabulary sounds too “modern” and contains anachronistic words. For this I make no apology. The real language of early Tudor England would be littered with annoying period words like “’tis” (the contraction “it’s” was not yet in use), while lacking the richness of later sixteenth-century speech. And, of course, much of the dialogue would be in French. Consider The Pleasure Palace my translation of Jane Popyncourt’s memoirs.
A WHO’S WHO OF THE EARLY TUDOR COURT
Beaufort, Margaret (Countess of Richmond)(1443–1509)
Margaret Beaufort gave birth to the future King Henry VII when she was only fourteen. She conspired to put him on the throne of England and to arrange his marriage to Elizabeth of York. She set up the rules that governed the nursery at Eltham. Late in life she became extremely pious.