I gasp. ‘Thomas Cromwell is about to fall?’

He pauses. ‘The most important diplomatic mission, that of discovering the feeling in France, has been given to me, not Thomas Cromwell. The king’s thoughts that the reform of the church has gone too far are shared with me, not with Thomas Cromwell. Thomas Cromwell made the Cleves alliance. Thomas Cromwell made the Cleves marriage. It turns out that we don’t need the alliance and that the marriage is not consummated. It turns out the king does not like the Cleves mare. Ergo (that means therefore, my dear Lady Rochford), ergo we might dispense with the mare, the marriage, with the alliance, and with the broker: Thomas Cromwell.’

‘And you become the king’s chief advisor?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘You would advise him into alliance with France?’

‘God willing.’

‘And speaking of God, he reconciles with the church?’

‘The Holy Roman Church,’ he corrects me. ‘Please God we can see it restored to us. I have long wanted it restored, and half the country feels as I do.’

‘And so the Lutheran queen is no more?’

‘Exactly, she is no more. She stands in my way.’

‘And you have another candidate?’

He smiles at me. ‘Perhaps. Perhaps the king has already chosen himself another candidate. Perhaps his fancy has alighted and his conscience will follow.’

‘Little Kitty Howard.’

He smiles.

I speak out bluntly: ‘But what of the young Queen Anne?’

There is a long silence. ‘How would I know?’ he says. ‘Perhaps she will accept a divorce, perhaps she will have to die. All I know is: she is in my way and she will have to go.’

I hesitate. ‘She is without friends in this country and most of her countrymen have gone home. She has no support or counsel from her mother or her brother. Is she in danger of her life?’

He shrugs. ‘Only if she is guilty of treason.’

‘How could she be? She cannot speak English, she knows no-one but those people we have presented to her. How could she plot against the king?’

‘I don’t know yet.’ He smiles at me. ‘Perhaps I will one day ask you to tell me how she has played the traitor. Perhaps you will stand before a court and offer evidence of her guilt.’

‘Don’t,’ I say through cold lips.

‘You have done it before,’ he taunts me.

‘Don’t.’

KATHERINE, WHITEHALL PALACE,

FEBRUARY 1540

I am brushing the queen’s long fair hair as she sits before her silvered mirror. She is looking at her reflection but her eyes are quite blank, she is not seeing herself at all. Fancy that! Having such a wonderful looking-glass that it will give a perfect reflection, and not looking at yourself! I seem to have spent my life trying to get a view of myself in silver trays and bits of glass, even leaning over the well at Horsham, and here she is before a perfectly made looking-glass and she is not entranced. Really, she is most peculiar. Behind her, I admire the movement of the sleeve of my gown as my hands move up and down, I bend down a little to see my own face and tip my head to one side to see the light catch my cheek then I tip it the other way. I try a small smile, then I raise my eyebrows as if I am surprised.