"What about the Marquess of Pembroke, Your Majesty?"
Henry, ignoring the pointed question of Cromwell, slapped the back of the tailor's head as he reported a waist measurement of 41 inches. "41 inches? Are you mad?! I'll be 41 inches when I'm dead and not a moment sooner! Make it 39."
"Your Majesty, with all due respect…"
Cromwell gave the tailor a dirty look that sent him scurrying. "Your Majesty, please. This is of extreme importance. What place shall we give the Marquess of Pembroke and her Lady Elizabeth's Grace?"
Henry stepped over to the table and picked up a book. "Where her dignity demands, of course."
"Of course." Cromwell only refrained from rolling his eyes with much effort. Henry had no idea that for most of his reign, they had been making up rules as they went. A former Queen taking part in the wedding procession of her ex-husband's new wife was unprecedented, and could create equally unforeseen problems that Cromwell himself would have to deal with, he was sure.
"Unless…. Do you think Jane will object to their presence?" Henry asked suddenly, sounding fearful.
"She is a peer, Your Majesty. I believe her presence and that of your natural daughter will go far in cementing this new marriage in the eyes of the people."
"Too true, Crum. Very well, place her where she would be if she were not former Queen, but born Marquess, and Bess with her."
"As Your Majesty commands."
As Cromwell excused himself and made his way outside, the tailor was still standing there, gibbering slightly.
"You fool," Cromwell hissed, exasperated, "Think! Make the doublet fit him like a glove, and then tell him it was a 38" waist if you must to keep him happy!"
Even in wedding clothing, the King must be kept happy.
~*~
"Listen to me, my darling," Anne said, lifting her daughter onto her lap and holding her close. "We have been summoned by His Majesty the King to attend his wedding to Lady Jane Seymour." Elizabeth's dark eyes, so like her own, were fixed on hers unblinkingly. "We are honored by this invitation, Bess."
"Yes, Mamma," she nodded.
"You must be prepared, Elizabeth. You are no longer a Princess of England, as we have discussed. You must treat His Majesty your father with all the respect due to him, and not be free with his person if he greets us personally. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Three years old the girl may be, Anne reflected, but she was sharp as the edge of a blade.
"Good girl." Anne forced a smile. "Shall we go and pick the jewels we shall wear?"
"Oh, yes!"
The two rose from their garden bench and made their way back to their chambers. Anne's dark head was bent to Elizabeth's, but she was not listening. Instead, she was remembering the last time she had ever seen Henry, and her unoccupied hand clenched hard enough to draw blood. Her stomach roiled, but she resolutely held herself in check until she had passed Elizabeth off to her nurse and turned to vomit in the rosebushes.
"Your Grace?"
"A moment, dear Kate, a moment, I beg you." Stomach empty, Anne wiped her face and stood to see her lady-in-waiting staring at her with worried eyes. "I am fine."
"As you say, Your Grace."
"Come, Elizabeth may have put every ring on her fingers by now—we must catch her up." With that, Anne swept inside past Kate and took a care not to look back.
~*~
Henry stood with his hand supporting Jane's, watching with happy pride as his people cheered his new wife. His eyes swept the crowd and were arrested almost immediately by a head of flaming red hair. His daughter Elizabeth, gorgeous in dark blue velvet, was bouncing lightly on her toes and applauding the new queen. Immediately to her left, Anne stood, also applauding, although her dark eyes looked faintly tinged with sadness as she gazed right at him, her dark hair caught up in a glittering headdress.
Despite his new wife's white hand in his, his heart caught for a moment at the sight of his old family, and Anne gave him a flick of her hand along her skirt in a curtsey and a small, wistful smile.
Happy though he was with his new life, Henry was glad he had stayed his hand and allowed Anne to live.
Henry and Jane processed to their bedchamber, where they were ceremoniously put to bed and left in the dark. As he undressed his new bride, his mind wandered to the old one—the strands of cornsilk hair running through his fingers merely made him think of darker ones, and Jane's prim covering of herself as Henry attempted to reveal her called to mind Anne's passion for him.
Casting such thoughts aside, he did his duty by his wife—and a duty she made it, unsure as a virgin should be, but not warming to him at all over the course of the evening. In fact, the moment Henry was done and had rolled to his side, Jane was out of the bed, casting about for her nightgown.
"I bid you good evening, Your Majesty," she said softly, pulling her nightgown back on and returning to her side of the bed.
Shocked, Henry could only stare as Jane knelt on the floor beside the bed, crossed herself, and began to pray, her mouth moving silently.
Had he been dismissed from his own marriage bed?
~*~
"Your Grace?"
Anne groaned and rolled her head closer to the chamber pot, attempting to halt her heaving stomach.
"God's blood, Kate! You are driving me to distraction! What?!" she finally shouted, her purple ringed eyes glaring with ferocity.
Kate cast herself to her knees in front of Anne's bed, head almost to the floor. "Know, my Lady, that I speak only with the greatest love of you."
"Yes, yes," Anne sighed. "Call the doctor if you must, Kate."
"Has Your Grace ever considered…?"
"Considered what? Spit it out, girl! Have some spine!"
"Considered that you may be with child?" she finally sputtered in a rush, and touched her forehead to the floor.
Forgetting the poor gibbering Kate, Anne sat straight up in bed, mind racing. Could it be so? She began to count backwards, attempting to remember her last bloods. She couldn't, but she had assumed that her miscarriage had affected her monthly bleeding. The last time she had been with Henry was another story—his touch was imprinted in her skin even now. It could be so…
Why now, oh Lord? She cried silently, forehead pressed to her knees. Why, after so many tries, would you give us a child when we are not married? When we cannot be married?
Anne's mind swiftly sorted through the possibilities. She could not keep this a secret—secrets implied duplicity, and her time in the Tower was not something she was anxious to repeat. She could not bring this directly to Henry, however – who knew how content he was with his new Ice Queen? Her father was wallowing in his mourning for George, and her uncle was combing his other nieces for a warm-blooded mistress for the King.
Cromwell!
A letter to Cromwell would ensure that Henry would hear of it in a fairly politic manner, and give her a layer of protection. She would sound out Cromwell first, and then see what her options were.
"Kate, fetch me my writing material! Oh, get up, you silly thing. Do as I say, and then send for a doctor—no chattering midwife, do you hear me? Go!"
~*~
… as I have known the touch of no man but His Majesty, Master Cromwell, I am reasonably sure that I am carrying the King's child once again. I write for your advice—would the King welcome another child, or is he content with Her Majesty the Queen? Either way, I did not want to be accused of keeping secrets from the Crown. My future lies, once again, in your inestimable hands.
I remain, your servant,
Anne, Marquess of Pembroke.
Cromwell sat back in his chair and stared at the parchment, his mind whirling with the possibilities. Henry had seemed less than happy with his new Queen over the past few weeks, but he was unsure how the King would respond to Anne's pregnancy. The one thing Henry hated more than anything else was to be told he was wrong, and this case seemed to be a perfect example. The pious and frigid Queen Jane seemed unlikely to bear the King a child, while the wife he had tossed aside only three months ago was enceinte.
It was as good as a play.
Deciding that the news was something Henry had to know, he rose to his feet and made his way to the King.
To be continued….
Next Chapter….
"Pregnant?" Henry whispered. "You are certain?"