A Jewel in Henry's Crown
Author's Note: So, reading back on what I've written since high school, I felt like I had to revise and rewrite some of the earlier chapters. I would like to thank you all for sticking around this long even though I haven't updated since last year. I've lost my spark for The Tudors but I will start up again. Thank you for everyone who has reviewed added to favourites and followed!
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Charles Brandon stood in the library that belonged to the Rupert Wallace of Norfolk. He waited the presence of the lord and paced back and forth quietly. It had been two months since His Majesties' request for a new mistress. It was no surprise to Charles that the king lost favour in Anne Boleyn — just like he had lost favour with Queen Katherine. While the queen was locked away in the Tower of London, His Majesties' eyes were fixed on Jane Seymour — a sweet girl and she was Catholic. Before Henry could do anything but proceed to marry Jane, Anne had to be rid of. So, until that happened — the only thing His Majesty could do was have a mistress to ease his sexual desires. He'd had two so far since the arrest of Anne Boleyn and now the Lord Norfolk's fifteen year old daughter would be next the next one. Charles wondered whether or not Charlotte would be easy with the king, like most of his mistresses. He heard a rumour or two that she had still been a virgin. An usher to Lord Wallace entered the room, bowing to the duke as he led in the Lord.
Rupert greeted Charles with a hand shake and a pat on the back before sitting behind his desk, sorting through his piles of papers and mess. The king had recently made him one of his advisors living abroad London…to keep things in check. An usher came in with a tray holding a silver pitcher of wine and two silver chalices. Rupert poured Charles' until it was full to the top in burgundy-red wine. He sat back and took in half the chalice of wine he had poured for himself. He set the chalice on the desk and folded his hands together before resting them on the edge of the desk.
"How is your wife, Your Grace, Anne Browne was it?" Rupert inquired his voice thick and gruff from the wine.
"She and I had gone our separate ways since the disintegration of the Catholic Church, my lord. She passed on."
"My condolences to Your Grace,"
Charles acknowledged Rupert with a nod and drank some of his wine.
"How is your daughter? Is she well?" Charles asked. "Is it not the anniversary of her birth today?"
"Yes, my daughter has aged another year this day, Your Grace. She is still fresh and young, fit for a king…" Rupert answered. Charles was slightly taken aback at Rupert's comment and shifted in his seat. "Does His Majesty like them as whores or virgins?"
"His Majesty…has no preference…" Charles answered, hesitantly; and, he cleared his throat. "As long as they can conceive,"
He had never met a man as crude as Rupert Wallace. In truth, many fathers wanted their daughters to be mistresses to kings, but something in his air was unwelcoming. Many daughters would be thrilled to be in the presence of a king and to be his mistress. Charles wondered if Charlotte even knew what her father had been planning. Charles looked out the stained glass windows and realized it was twilight. The moon was just rising over the horizon and Rupert rose when there was music heard in the large dining hall below them.
"Come, Your Grace and join us for this evening's celebrations. I do hope you enjoy dancing, and perhaps — I will allow you a dance with my daughter if all goes well."
Charles silently agreed and followed Lord Wallace out of the study to the grand hall.
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Lady Wallace was seated beside her husband, watching their youngest child and only daughter dance gaily with her guests of honour. Today had been the eve of her fifteenth year and they had been celebrating the anniversary of her birth. Music filled the grand hall of Birtsmorton Court, a fine and generous gift that His Majesty had recently bequeathed to the Lord Wallace of Norfolk after his rise to higher power in court. The Lord Norfolk had recently returned from his study after discussing matters of concerning the king and his daughter with Charles Brandon. The Duke remained standing near Lord Norfolk watching the young fifteen year old girl dance about the grand hall. Charlotte had met his gaze only briefly and for that brief moment, Charles knew that he had to have her — despite her father's desires for her to become a mistress. Though, there was hope for him yet. Charles knew too well that His Majesty tired of all his mistresses. But, there was something about Charlotte that caught his attention. His focus had been shifted back to the conversation between Lord and Lady Wallace who were seated in the center of the dining table, ardently watching their daughter.
"My lord, do you think it wise to just simply hand over our daughter to His Majesty? Do you think she is ready to become a mistress? She is just five and ten today, my love."
"Eleanor, she is of age to have a child and what not better than to have the King's child? Even if it shall be a bastard…His Majesty will recognize his child if she bears him a son. Just as he did to Elizabeth Blount's bastard, isn't that correct, Master Brandon?"
"Yes, milord," Charles answered, with a curt nod. "He was deemed Henry Fitzroy, 1st Duke of Richmond and Somerset."
"There now, my lady, what have you to say to that? A bastard has more titles than the Lady Mary and the Lady Elizabeth!"
"And I am quite convinced that—,"
"Summon Charlotte to us, Lady Wallace," the lord demanded, with a wave of his hand. He saw as Charlotte acknowledged her mother's gaze and left her dancing partner.
"My lord father," she greeted, with a low curtsy. "Are you well this evening?"
"Quite well," said he, "Quite well, but that is not important. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you. His Grace has informed me of the recent scandal of Queen Anne and her inability to produce male heirs for the king."
"This is distressing news indeed."
"We have been summoned to court at long last and the king has personally asked me to introduce my daughter to him. She should like to make you his mistress above all others."
Charles turned his gaze on Charlotte, watching her as her smile faded and her brows knitted together in confusion and betrayal. The grand hall had turned to silence as the guests turned their attention to Rupert and Charlotte.
"But, Father, I have barely turned fifteen! This is madness! Even the Queen's sister was a little older than me when she—,"
"This no longer concerns the Boleyns, Miss Wallace, but us! Do you not realize what this means for our family?"
"Rupert, please—," Eleanor began.
"Quiet, woman! You do not speak when I am speaking."
Charlotte looked pleadingly at her mother and received a blow to her cheek with the back of her father's hand.
"You dare to question the king and his request?"
"No—Father—,"
"This is the end of the matter. You will go to court and give the king the son he desires. I will hear no more of your pleading and arguing."
Lord Wallace stood up and stormed out of the hall, leaving Charlotte in shock and complete embarrassment. Her cheeks flushed red and tears threatened to fall from her eyes as she looked at her mother. The guests remained quiet — waiting for a response until Lady Wallace demanded for music again and dancing. The dances and music had resumed once more and Charlotte fled the hall in tears from her father's abuse. Charles looked at Lady Wallace and sighed.
"Will you go and speak with her, Your Grace?" Eleanor inquired. Charles gave her a nod before trailing after Charlotte. He found her in a quiet, dimly lit corridor of the manor house crying silently and sniffling occasionally.
"Does your father treat you ill often?" he asked, softly. Charlotte jumped and made a sharp gasp as she turned to Charles.
"Only when I am defiant," she answered, in a small child-like voice. "I do not mean to be so defiant but—,"
"Do not apologise, my lady." Charles interrupted. "I believe it is the anniversary of your birth today?"
"Yes, yes it is, Your Grace," Charlotte said, chuckling.
"Would you do me the honour of sharing a dance with me before I return to London?"
"I would be delighted to." Charlotte replied, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks and fluttering in her chest. "I apologise if I seemed impertinent…"
"Quite the contrary, my lady,"
Charles offered her his arm and she accepted it gladly. He led her back to the grand hall just as another song was being played.
"I do believe this is a Volta," Charlotte informed. "Will you be able to keep your pace with mine?"
"Have you so little faith in me?" Charles asked, teasingly. Charlotte giggled. "Jump,"
"I know how to dance a Volta, Your Grace." Charlotte remarked, as Charles lifted her up once and then she spun around him. When she looked up at Charles again, he could see her cheeks flushed red. Charlotte had weakened at her knees when he had placed his hands on her waist when he'd lifted her up. It seemed like an eternity dancing with Charles, Charlotte had thought. She especially noticed the way he looked at her. She hadn't know if it had been for lust or otherwise. Her breathing hitched when he stepped only inches away from her. The music had stopped and Charlotte could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her cheeks burning. She stepped back and curtsied to Charles. He bowed just as she hurried off again, no doubt feeling even more flustered and embarrassed than before. He smiled to himself — considering the fact that he had more of a chance to win her heart before the king did. And Charles vowed he would win her heart as he left the manor house that night. All the pieces were set and now the game would begin.
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Author's Note II: So I hope ya'll enjoyed! Please, review and tell me what you think of this revised edition! The beginning I got out of my one shot 'In the Heart of a Duke', for those of you who had read that one-shot. : )