I heard no more of the Italian marriage. It seemed I was not destined to have a husband and children. I was not sure whether I was happy or sad at the prospect. Restored in health I might have been, but not in spirits. I was quite happy to remain in the country. But, after a decent interval, my uncle took a fourth wife, the Lady Anna of Cleves, and I was brought back to court to serve as her chief lady of honour. I had not seen my uncle for three-and-a-half years, and I was shocked by the change in him. Then he had been a magnificent figure of a man; now, he was old before his time, massively fat and a virtual invalid. I marked that he was more maudlin, sanctimonious and tyrannical than ever. Everyone was wary of him, but he was affectionate enough to me. Clearly, all my transgressions were forgotten.

I was to be chief of the six great ladies of the Queen’s household. We were presented to the Lady Anna when she arrived at Dartford after her long journey from Dover. The weather was atrocious, and she spoke almost no English, but she kept smiling all the time. I admired that. I admired her too, for her discretion when, soon after her marriage to the King, it became apparent that he did not love or even like her.

I was lucky. Unlike most of her other ladies, I had been assigned my own lodging in the palace, near the Lady Mary’s, so I could escape from the tense atmosphere of the Queen’s apartments in those weeks in which it seemed that a cauldron was about to bubble over. The King rarely visited Anna, and it was all over the court that he was impotent with her, but able to perform the marriage act with other ladies. The palaces were alive with rumours and gossip.

I felt sorry for Anna. I hoped she had not understood what people were saying about her. The poor lady led a retired life, pretending that all was well. I whiled away much of the time gambling with the Lady Mary and my other friends. None of us were surprised when, after six months the royal marriage was annulled and Anna, richer by a very handsome settlement, left court, the best of friends with the King.

By then, it was notorious that my uncle had fallen for the charms of a pretty maid-of-honour, Katheryn Howard, a cousin of the Boleyn. Less than three weeks after his divorce from Anna, he married her. In August, when the new Queen’s household was formed, I was summoned again to be chief of her ladies.