March, 1522
"The Lady Anne Boleyn arrives, Your Majesty."
Maria Willoughby (nee de Salinas) kneeled gracefully at her beloved Queen's feet, her aged hands spreading the length of her gown, identical to those of the less-favored ladies waiting outside Her Majesty's bedchambers. Her eyes rose slowly from the ground to meet those of Queen Catalina, or Catherine as she was more favorably known throughout England. Catherine's beautiful blue eyes, though absent of some of their old sparkle, shown kindly down at her old friend and confidant. "Thank you, Lady Willoughby," Catherine nodded for Maria to stand, "I am told she was well-received and a favorite in the French court. You'll ensure her swift transition into my household." Maria nodded, "Of course, My Lady."
Catherine allowed her maid to walk ahead of her through the curtains that seperated her bedchamber from her living quarters. Maria had always been such a loyal and true servant, and a real friend, one of the few Catherine trusted utmostly. Maria had traveled with Catherine from Spain, and had been one of the few that had remained in Catherine's household after King Henry VII had all but imprisoned her at Durham House upon Prince Arthur's death. Maria had been there through all of Catherine's pregnancies and births, and had witnessed her struggles and triumphs. With a friend such as Lady Willoughby, Catherine hardly needed more ladies in her household. However, if Mistress Boleyn was as educated, thoughtful and resourceful as word had it, Catherine didn't see why she shouldn't have a place in her household.
Smoothing her auburn hair over her shoulders, Catherine moved quickly and elegantly behind Lady Willoughby, and emerged from her bedchambers into the sitting room as she was announced. In her youth, Catherine of Aragon was considered a great beauty, a refined Spanish jewel, and the desire of a prince's heart. Now with several years behind her, and many emotionally-trying pregnancies, Catherine's youthly looks were long since past, leaving a tired, albeit elegant middle-aged woman in her stead. Yet, in her dark purple gown trimmed with white silk, she still commanded attention, and her subjects all immediately fell to their knees as she stood before them.
Catherine's eyes rested on the small frame of Anne Boleyn. Slender, with a pretty neck and dark brown hair nestled around her heart-shaped face. She was dressed in French fashions, likely the influence of Queen Claude's court. That would change, she mentally noted. Catherine would not have any French influences in her household. "Lady Boleyn," she greeted the young woman, "rise, so that I may look upon my new lady."
The girl did as she was told, and stood to meet the gaze of her Queen. Catherine was taken back as Lady Boleyn's eyes met her own, and she was struck by the beauty of them. Anne's lips pursed perfectly without her trying, and she smiled, knowing better than to speak before she was given leave to do so. "Your father sends word that you have just arrived from the French court?" Catherine confirmed. "Yes, Your Majesty," Anne replied quietly. "And you performed in the King's pageant for the ambassadors recently?" "Yes, Your Majesty," came another quiet reply. "How did you find the production?" Catherine asked, her eyes narrowing on the young woman, wondering how such a newcomer to court had managed to secure such a role amongst those of the King's sister, Mary. "I found it beautiful, and was honored to perform. Dancing is one of my favorite pastimes, Your Majesty."
Catherine nodded, finding the young woman's answers acceptable. Anne was respectful and seemed to know her place. Catherine smiled upon her new maiden, "Welcome to Court, Lady Boleyn. I'm sure you will find it a good fit here for you." She motioned for Maria, and the woman stepped forward quickly. "Lady Willoughby will give you a gown from my household, and show you to your quarters. I expect you will be ready for the King's feast this evening." Anne bowed graciously before the queen. "Yes, thank you, Your Majesty."
Catherine nodded her head as dismissal, and turned to return to her bedchamber. As she walked through the heavy velvet curtains, she exhaled a deep breath from her chest, and set her jaw tightly. Catherine knew a possible threat when she saw one. She glanced over her shoulder, and caught a glimpse of the young maiden being handed a proper gown, before the curtains seperated the two worlds once more. Anne Boleyn, for all her outward manners and respectful nature, was someone that Catherine knew Henry would take great interest in. Anne's looks alone would garner his attention if he noticed them, and Henry was not a man who would be denied of what intrigued him, even if it was only a fleeting curiosity. She couldn't bear the thought of Henry finding warmth in the arms of another of her ladies. He had already fathered a bastard son with Lady Blount, not more than three years ago, and though the affair was over, Catherine was forced to endure the knowledge that another woman had given Henry what she, thus far, could not.
Catherine walked to her vanity, and sat upon the cushioned stool. Her melancholy reflection stared back at her in exasperation, criticizing the crows' feet at the corner of her graying eyes, lamenting the loss of her slender figure, and wishing for her younger days when she held her husband's heart in her hand. She reached for her rosary and stroked the crucifix between her thumb and index finger. "Lord Jesus," she whispered, deafening her ears to the sounds of her maids in the next room, "I beg of you, return my husband's heart to me. Let him remember our love and commitment to one another, and send us a son to fill our heavy hearts-"
"And when you're finished dressing, we'll spend the morning cleaning Her Majesty's rooms. Today you'll polish the furniture." Catherine was shook out of her prayer at Maria's commanding and no-nonsense tone, and could hear her bustling about the sitting room in a way that suggested she was in no mood to be chaperoning Lady Boleyn when there were chores to be done. "Queen Catherine is a fair and gentle queen, but she expects dignity and chastity of her ladies. As a lady of this household, you will attend mass regularly, and will behave in a way that is becoming of such a position. Come now, we shan't stand here all day and look pretty. This isn't France, Lady Boleyn. Go and dress, immediately."
Catherine smiled, and closed her eyes, grasping the rosary's delicate glass beads in her hands, her faith suddenly restored in her power, place and husband. Anne Boleyn, though beautiful, was a stranger to the English court, and her family held little influence. Even if Henry did find interest in Anne, Catherine knew it would be short-lived. She would be a burning infatuation, and once the King's thirst was quenched, he would tire of her, like all the others. She would continue as a Lady-in-Waiting, if Catherine deemed it so, and soon enough, her father would likely arrange a marriage to one of Henry's courtiers. Catherine was the Queen of England, and Henry's wife, and once she finally delivered a healthy son, no lady would be able to sway his affections.
"Lady Willoughby," Catherine called out, and in the reflection of the mirror, Maria hurried through the curtains and bowed, "My Lady?" Catherine smiled at her through the mirror, "Lady Willoughby, cancel the morning's cleaning. I feel a bit of needlework is more suited to my mood today." She placed the rosary back on the vanity, and turned on her stool to face Maria, "And send for my daughter. I wish to see her tomorrow." Maria smiled, happy to see her Queen in a more jovial mood than she had been recently. "Of course, Your Majesty. I will prepare the sitting room, and send word to the Princess's governess." The two women nodded to one another, and Maria hurried back into the next room.