‘Good gracious, no!’ she says and she flushes up quite scarlet. ‘Everyone knows I’m not allowed even to think about a man. Ask anyone! The king would not allow it.’

‘You do like him!’ I say delightedly. ‘Lady Margaret, you sly thing! You are in love with my brother.’

She hides her face in her hands and she peeps at me through the fingers. ‘Don’t say a word,’ she begs me.

‘Oh, all right. But has he promised marriage?’

She nods shyly. ‘We are so much in love. I hope you will speak for us to the king? He is so strict! But we are so very much in love.’

I smile down the hall at my brother. ‘Well, I think that’s lovely,’ I say kindly. I so like being gracious to the king’s niece. ‘And what a wonderful wedding we can plan.’

ANNE, RICHMOND PALACE,

OCTOBER 1540

I have had a letter from my brother, an utterly mad letter, it distresses me as much as it angers me. He complains of the king in the wildest of terms, and commands me either to return home, insist on my marriage, or never more be a sister to him. He offers me no advice as to how I am to insist on my marriage, clearly he does not even know that the king has re-married already, nor any help if I want to return home. I imagine, as he knew well enough when he gave me these impossible choices, that I am left with the single option of never more being a sister to him.

Little loss to me! When he left me here without a word, gave me an ambassador who was almost unpaid, failed to send adequate proof of the renunciation of the Lorraine betrothal, he was no good brother to me then. He is no good brother now. Least of all is he my good brother when the Duke of Norfolk and half the Privy Council come thundering down to Richmond in a rage, since they have, of course, picked up his letter almost from the moment it left his hand, copied it, translated it, and read it before it ever came to me, and now they want to know if I think my brother will incite the Holy Roman Emperor to war against England and Henry on my behalf?

As calmly as I can, I point out to them that the Holy Roman Emperor is not likely to make war at my brother’s behest and that (emphatically) I do not ask my brother to make war at my behest.

‘I warn the king that I cannot rule my brother,’ I say, speaking slowly and directly to the Duke of Norfolk. ‘William will do as he wishes. He does not take my advice.’

The duke looks doubtful. I turn to Richard Beard and speak in German. ‘Please point out to His Grace that if I could make my brother obey me then I would have told him to send the document which showed that the betrothal to Lorraine was renounced,’ I say.