Another repost of my Tudor musings series, this one deals with Henry becoming suspicious of Jane...please read and review
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Henry sat at dinner, trying not to notice the scores of superfluous attendants loitering around the room. Seven months of marriage and no sign of Jane being with child. The bounteous charms which had so drawn him to her a year ago had now begun to fade, the first blush had come off the rose, and compared to the outgoing confidence of Lady Misselden, Jane seemed, well, plain.
Was he being punished for his sin with Katherine, still, after all this time? Or was Anne somehow making Jane barren? No, not Anne – she could not bear the blame for this. Being dead instantly absolved her of any crimes.
Still lost in hopeless thoughts, the King pushed his food around on the plate, barely tasting it. Jane, he noticed, was eagerly consuming her food, giving a small sigh of pleasure as each tasty morsel was chewed and swallowed. Quail's eggs again – strange, as Jane normally couldn't stomach such things.
"You had quail's eggs last night, sweetheart." Jane looked up at the King – was that a hint of a smile teasing her red lips?
"Yes, I have a need for them" she said simply.
Henry's breath caught in his lungs...could it be...were his prayers finally to be answered?
"A special need?" Jane nodded, catching her husband's eye once before demurely and properly looking back down at her plate.
Henry stood, barely able to contain his joy.
"Jane, I think you are with child" he said simply. She nodded once, that secret smile once again dancing across her lips. Her nod of affirmation was all Henry needed to run around the table and embrace his wife – roughly at first, until he remembered the delicate condition she was in, and then he was as gentle as a mother with her new born child.
Alone in his rooms, Henry pondered on what to do for Jane. He wanted to give her a gift, but something meaningful. He thought about the quail's eggs – funny, the things that women craved when they were with child. Anne had always craved apples, whenever she was expecting. He remembered the first time – Elizabeth – how hard they had struggled to find apples – good apples – in January and February. Of course, Anne's volatile personality always mellowed a little during her first months, before the baby quickened, so even if there were no apples to be had, she wouldn't complain.
Henry tried to remember what Katherine had craved, but the memory eluded him. Maybe she'd never told him what she craved; preferring to let him focus on running the country, or maybe she'd never had any cravings during her many pregnancies. Maybe he'd forgotten the small details of her pregnancies once he knew there would be no more.
With Jane, he was determined not to forget. Suddenly, an idea came to him. If Jane was craving quail's eggs, and he wanted to give her a gift, he would have quail's eggs imported, so that she would always have plenty for her wants.
Pleased with his grand idea, Henry reclined on his bed and tried to push away the pain in his leg with pictures of the birth of his son. Surely, this time, God would bless him. Surely, this time, he would not again be disappointed by a female heir – good only for her position on the political scene as a pawn to use in the marriage market.
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