Anne of Cleves- Unbeloved by D Lawrence-Young

Author:D Lawrence-Young [Lawrence-Young, D]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sharpe Books
Published: 2018-09-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen - Intimate Conversations

Just as the king had had some intimate conversations with Cromwell and several other close advisers, both medical and courtly, in the week following his disastrous nuptial night, so too did his wife hold similar conversations with her ladies-in-waiting.

Taking the new queen aside in an arbour in the palace grounds, Lady Rutland and Lady Rochford, Anne Boleyn’s sister-in-law, asked her if she were still a maid.

“Still a maid?” Anne replied, her eyes childishly bright and innocent.

Lady Rutland coughed quietly. “Your Majesty,” she asked quietly, deliberately keeping her English simple. “Do you lie in bed with your husband, His Majesty, all night?”

“Yes, of course I do. Isn’t that what wives are supposed to do? I lie there every night. When he comes to bed he kisses me and takes me by the hand and says, ‘Goodnight, sweetheart.’“

“Yes, and?”

Anne smiled. “And then in the morning he kisses me again and says, ‘Did you sleep well, darling?’ Why, isn’t that enough? He’s very sweet to me now. On the first night of our marriage I think he was very tired and angry, but now that has passed. Isn’t that good? Ja?”

Lady Rutland looked at Lady Rochford and raised her eyebrows slightly before turning again to the queen.

“But, Your Majesty, does he er… touch you?”

“Touch me? Ja. We hold hands and sometimes he kisses me on the cheek. Here,” and Anne pointed to her soft cheeks.

Lady Rochford decided she would have to be more specific. “No, Your Majesty. What I meant was, does His Majesty touch your private parts?”

“My private parts?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Down here, between your legs. And here,” she said pointing to her own bodice-covered breasts and her lower body.

Anne looked somewhat shocked. “Oh, no, milady. He touched me on those places only on our first night in bed. It was not nice. So since then he just holds my hands instead.” And she bent down to pick some daisies.

“And he doesn’t do anything else?” a mystified Lady Rutland asked. “Does he tell you to touch him, say, under the covers, under his night shift?”

“Touch him? Touch him where?” an equally mystified looking Anne asked.

“His legs, his belly, his prick.”

“Oh, no, of course not, Lady Rutland. Why should I want to touch him down there?”

“But, Your Majesty,” Lady Rutland asked, “What did your mother tell you about wedding nights and husbands?”

“My mother? Nichts. She told me nothing about such things. She just told me to make sure my husband is happy with me and that it was my duty to obey him in all things. That’s all.”

“Didn’t she say anything else?” asked an exasperated Lady Rutland.

“Oh, no, milady,” replied Anne, shaking her head. “She taught me how to sew, how to embroider, how to repair holes and tears in clothes and useful things like that. She also taught me to read poetry and how to write letters and also a little about numbers,” she finished brightly, thinking of the happy days she had experienced at home in Cleves at her mother’s side.

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