{"product_id":"the-last-boleyn-isbn-9780307237903","title":"The Last Boleyn","description":"\u003cb\u003eShe survived her own innocence, and the treachery of Europe’s royal courts; \u003ci\u003eThe Last   Boleyn\u003c\/i\u003e is the story of the rise and fall of the Boleyns, one of England’s most   powerful families, through the eyes of the eldest daughter, Mary.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Although her sister,   Anne, the queen; her brother, George, executed alongside Anne; and her father, Thomas,   are most remembered by history, Mary was the Boleyn who set into motion the chain   of events that brought about the family’s meteoric rise to power, as well as the   one who managed to escape their equally remarkable fall. Sent away to France at an   extraordinarily young age, Mary is quickly plunged into the dangerous world of court   politics, where everything is beautiful but deceptive, and everyone she meets is   watching and quietly manipulating the events and people around them. As she grows   into a woman, Mary must navigate both the dangerous waters ruled by two kings and   the powerful will of her own family in order to find a place for herself and the   love she so deeply desires.Praise for Karen Harper’s Elizabeth I Mysteries\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Impressively researched . . . the author has her historical details down pat.” —\u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Would make Shakespeare envious . . . This is great stuff.” —\u003ci\u003eToronto Globe and Mail\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eKaren Harper\u003c\/b\u003e is a \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eUSA Today \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling  author whose novels, both historical and contemporary, have been  published worldwide. A former college and high school English  instructor, Harper now lives in Columbus, Ohio, and Naples, Florida, and  frequently travels around the country to promote her books and speak  about writing.Chapter One.  July 16, 1512.  Hever Castle, Kent\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    As she searched back over the span of years to where it all began,   her mind always seized upon that golden day at Hever when she first   knew there could be uncertainty, yes, and even fear and pain. They   were all so young then--she but eight years, George a year older, so   baby Anne was five years that summer. The July day spent itself in   gold and green caresses for the tiny knot garden, and the yew-lined   lanes, and grassy swards at Hever. But the reverie of that warmth and   beauty always paled beneath the darker recesses of memory. Indeed,   that was the first day she knew she was to be sent away and used, and   that it would make her dear mother most unhappy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The first thing she would recall were Anne's squeals of delight and   George's high pitched tones of command mingled with the yelps of the   reddish-coated spaniel pups which nearly drowned the drone of bees in   the beds of roses and Sweet William. The pups were but a four month   litter from their lady mother's favorite lap dog Glinda, but George   was determined to control them and train them to be his obedient pets.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Stop that! Stop that! You shall bend to my will, you little whelps!\"   he shouted with a grown-up edge of impatience to his boyish voice as   he swung smartly at them with a willow switch. They yelped sharply   when the stings struck, but continued to cavort and roll about on   each other, all silken floppy ears and clumsy paws.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Cease, George! They are too young to be whipped or trained,\" came   Mary's clear voice from the vine-woven gallery where she sat slightly   apart from the scene. She felt growing annoyance from the raucous   laughter and pitiful cries of the pups. \"They are not hunt hounds,   only lap dogs for ladies, so leave them be. Gentleness and love will   train them well enough. Leave off, or I shall tell mother or   Semmonet!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The boy turned to face her, a look of disdain clouding his fine   features. He put his fists on his hips and stood straight, his eyes   squinting in the sun toward her shady bower.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"You shall not order me about, Mary. I am the elder, and I am the   son, and I already own three hounds and two falcons. And I shall see   service in the king's court long before you. Father has promised!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Has he now?\" Mary countered, for George did annoy her so of late   when he acted as though he were a lord's man or knight already and   not some country lad whose father was always gone to court. \"I   warrant we all may stay here with mother at Hever, or maybe Blickling   or Rochford, and never see the court at all,\" she continued.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Usually that sort of taunt unsettled George enough to quiet him, but   today she hit a different mark. He advanced several swift strides   toward her and, as he came into the shade of the arbor, she was   startled to see the flush of his cheek and the frown on his brow.   Anne trailed in his angry wake, her face curious, her raven hair   spilling from beneath her white-ribboned cap.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"The fair-haired Mistress Mary with Grandmother Howard's beauty! Do   not think to set yourself above Anne and me that we show the Butler   blood for our dark locks and plainer faces. We are every bit as much   a Howard too, and I shall be lord here at Hever someday and then you   shall do my bidding, or--or I shall wed you to a poor landed gentry   knight!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The vehemence surprised the girl, for though she sometimes goaded   George for his imperious ways or silently smarted beneath his   overbearing attitude, he seldom responded this way. It almost   frightened her and, except for Anne's large, dark eyes peering   earnestly at her, she would have responded haughtily.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I meant nothing by it, brother, and never vowed I had more of the   Howard blood than you. Our lord has often told us we are all to be   proud of our heritage of Irish Butler and powerful Norfolk, for was   not our grandfather the High Treasurer for our king's father?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    George nodded curtly as though he had bested her and turned his   attention back to the pups again. Now tired of their romp, they lay   stretched into little splashes of shining bronze beside the marigold   beds.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    But Anne lingered, her pale yellow gown almost touching Mary's   emerald skirts. The child often gazed at her older sister. She   admired Mary's golden hair and clear blue eyes and lovely face, for   their beauty was noticed by all, and the tiny girl sensed the import   of this more than did Mary. It meant somehow that Mary was special,   was different, and though George resented this, the child Anne was   quite in awe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Why can we not go into the solar to see father, Mary? He comes not   much to see us. What has he so secret to tell mother that Semmonet   sent us away from the house? I wish he would come out and play with   us and the pups, but I know he will not.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Anne sat beside Mary on the rough wood bench, her hands folded in her   lap. She looked so dainty and demure that Mary wondered anew at the   quicksilver changes of temperament the girl showed. She herself felt   no such feverish blood stir her moods, nor did she ever throw the   noisy tantrums of which this child was capable.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Dear Annie, Semmonet said only that father had an important message   for mother and that we shall learn of his tidings later. I am certain   you can manage to wait until supper, for he will no doubt stay at   least until the morrow, so you may ask him then, minx.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The pale child bit her lower lip, and Mary knew another question   would follow. Did she never tire of her endless probings of   everything? Her mind is quick and her French and Latin may soon   overtake mine, she thought.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Mary,\" Anne began in her childish voice, \"do you believe the king   looks in true life as he does in the portrait? He always seems to   look sideways at me as I come down the stairs or go in the solar. His   hands are so big and strong and he looks very frightening.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Her eyes looked like wet black brook pebbles, and Mary reached out to   touch her white cheek. \"Well, little one, I have not seen His Majesty   either, but father is proud of that portrait copy by Master van   Cleve, you know, so I would guess it catches the king in truth. And I   agree, Annie, the eyes and the hands do look most frightening,   especially at night when the hall lies in shadow with only candle   gleams.\" She hesitated. \"Is there anything else you would ask, Annie?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Mary smiled at her little sister and the dazzling beauty that angered   George, worried her mother, and pleased her father, simply amazed the   younger child. Why could she not have golden hair and sky colored   eyes and an angel's face like those in the stained glass windows at   grandmother's chapel?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I was only hoping, Mary, that he comes not back to take me to the   king's court, for I should be afraid to go from mother and Semmonet   and George and you. Even if father were there, I should be afraid,   for father has eyes and hands like the king.\" Her lip quivered, and   her fears, so plainly spoken, tugged on Mary's love though she   herself felt no such childish worries.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"No, Annie. Do not be afraid. We are all too young to leave here now.   George will surely go first and though you and I are not too young to   be engaged, there has been no word of this. Maybe father comes to   tell of a fine promotion above being Esquire of the King's Body.   Father wishes to rise far, I know.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Yes, Mary. And mother says he shall. Does she miss him as much as   we, do you think?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Yes. No doubt even more. But she loves it here and has almost no   desire to be at court, though I do not know why. But who would not   love life at our Hever, Annie?\" Mary's eyes skipped swiftly across   the low boxwood hedges and the carefully tended beds of riotous   marigolds, snapdragons and sweet heartsease.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Father will soon ride back to the king's business, and we shall be   safe with mother and Semmonet. You shall see,\" she comforted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The child shot her a sunbeam smile and darted off, eager to follow   George and the pups around the other side of the garden. Soon her   lilting laugh and George's sharp tones floated through the air again   punctuated by excited yelps from the litter of spaniels.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Mary grimaced as she rose, but walked away from their play. She did   not want another rude encounter with George if she scolded him again.   Then, too, Anne's innocent questions had unsettled her more than   George's bloodless cruelty to the pups could.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Her father had ridden in hard from Greenwich and most unexpected. He   did have special news for the family, that she knew. But what puzzled   and bothered her the most was that he had sent the children out to   play yet had summoned Semmonet. Why would his words be of import to   their governess unless it concerned one of her three Bullen charges?   Her heart beat slightly faster as she paced the squared outer edge of   the heady-scented boxwood walk toward the house.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    As she emerged from the gardens, the brightly painted ornamental   facade of Hever rose up before her set like a gaudy jewel in the   clear blue frame of cloudless sky. Its blond brick walls and   decorative chimneys and water lily studded moat rested in the meadows   at the fork of the gentle River Eden. Mary knew well the heritage of   the house, for it was the same proud heritage of her family, and she   and George and Annie had been taught to rehearse it well.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Built by great-grandsire Geoffrey Bullen, lord mayor of London, who   married the proud daughter of Lord Hoo,\" she recited half aloud.   \"Once a mere hunt lodge, but now the family seat of his grandson Lord   Thomas Bullen of King Henry's great court and his Lady Elizabeth   Bullen.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    She went in step to her chant toward the house from which she and the   other Bullen children had been temporarily banished. She crossed the   now-useless drawbridge and went beneath the rusty pointed teeth of   the raised portcullis. As a younger child of Anne's age, she had   pictured that entry as the mouth of a terrible dragon whose jaws   might snap shut in an instant and devour a fair maiden beneath. Long   ago she had darted through fearful that the iron jaws would trap or   crush her, but she was much too old for such foolhardiness now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The cobbled courtyard lay silent, and the shiny leaded windows of the   hall and solar glinted in the afternoon sun and gave no hint of what   dark secrets might be proudly announced within. She would await the   parental summons in her bedchamber away from the howls of pups or   George's taunts or even Annie's childish questions. Maybe Semmonet   would be in the nursery now and could tell her of the special news,   for did not Semmonet treasure the happiness of her three charges   above all?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    One oak door to the hall stood agape. The warm fresh air of the day   was a blessing in the frequently shut-up house. A sunbeam-dusted   shaft of light poured onto the worn oak floor inside the entry as the   girl stepped inside and looked guardedly about. The low hum of her   parents' voices drifted from the solar, still lifted in earnest   conversation. She continued to the great banister and put one   slippered foot on the first stair, but halted in the huge square of   sunlight as her mother's raised voice pierced the silence.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"My dear Lord Thomas, I grant it is an honor, and I am proud of your   appointment as ambassador to the Archduchess of Savoy, but the other   matter is out of the question.\" Her clear voice stopped, and Mary   sought to picture her lovely mother's angry face. She had always seen   her in control of herself, always calm and gentle. Surely father   would not insist he take George abroad with him on this new business.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Settle your feathers, my beautiful little mother hen,\" came her   father's voice with its familiar edge of authority. \"I have already   obtained the placement. I have great plans for all three and, believe   me, the opportunity is fortuitous. We dare not pass up this chance   for the advancement and polish needed. Where else could the golden   egg fall right in our laps and without cost to us? I had thought, of   course, when the king's sister should be sent abroad to marry, the   time would come, but this is even sooner than I had hoped.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Mesmerized by the voices, Mary edged closer to the huge door of the   solar, set slightly ajar to seize the fresh air. Guiltily, she stared   back at the piercing eyes of her king whose portrait hung in the   dimness of the hall not washed by the sunlight which slanted in on   her trembling body. Yes, indeed little Anne was right. The king's   eyes seemed to accuse and frighten.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Suddenly, her heart lurched and her mind grasped each single word of   her mother's quaking voice: \"I pray you, my lord, let this honor go   until she is at least in her tenth year. She is but a mere eight   years and not a child fully raised yet.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Mary's slender frame leaned for support against the carved linen fold   paneling of the hall. She crumpled wadded balls of her green skirts   in tight fists. They spoke of her . . . and to be sent to . . . to .   . . where is Savoy?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Margaret of Austria and Regent to the Netherlands, Elizabeth,   imagine it. It is the highest rung of the ladder for now, and when   she is educated there, it will be a finishing school second only to   the French court itself. When she returns, where else is there for   her but among Queen Catherine's ladies in His Grace's very eyes?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Yes. Where else,\" came Elizabeth Bullen's low voice, and Mary was   hurt and shocked by the anger of it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Mary could hear her father pacing now as he often did when he thought   out a problem or gave orders. His footsteps approached the door and   turned back. She wanted to flee but her knees shook and her feet were   rooted to the floor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Not all women as beautiful as you, Elizabeth, choose to live their   lives away from the power and heat of the sun, however lovely their   country homes like Hever.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"There is sun here, my lord, and beauty--and peace of mind.\"","brand":"Crown","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303756976357,"sku":"NP9780307237903","price":21.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780307237903.jpg?v=1767740113","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-last-boleyn-isbn-9780307237903","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}