Author's Note: Hi everyone, I thought I would include a bit of reader participation for a future chapter, so please vote on the poll on my profile page. It's in regards to Anne receiving a bit of luck for once. Thank you so much and please review, you are all so appreciated and loved :)
Anne let out a long arduous sigh as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand. Currently her interest was being piqued by the bird cage that sat on her ornate rosewood desk.
She studied the little jay bird intently as it hopped glumly from perch to perch within its gilded cage, wishing for freedom. It was a pretty little bird, with feathers of blue and yellow, and it had glistening black eyes that were almost like sapphires. Yet despite its beauty, it seemed very solemn and wasn't whistling with its usual mirth.
How similar our lives are, Anne contemplated.
She lived within the riches and splendor of the palace but could no longer find any value in their worth. The velvet of her chair no longer seemed as plush as what it once did. The food tasted bland and never seemed to sate her appetite. She felt perpetually cold despite the roaring fires that crackled in the hearth and the wine never seemed to quench her thirst.
She was essentially a prisoner in her own home and was at the mercy of her tyrannical husband who seemed to delight in her every torture.
She no longer had anything she could recognise as a comfort.
All but one of her ladies has been dismissed and replaced by others, those favoured by the King and his council. She was sure they had been sent to spy upon her. She noticed how they lingered in doorways, talking to each other in hushed tones. They followed her closely, so closely she could mistake them for her own shadow.
And God how she missed Elizabeth.
Her darling.
Her flame haired princess.
Her one and only love.
Being separated from her was like having a cold rusty dagger plunged into her breast. A dagger that ripped her chest open and tore out her beating heart for all to see.
She could not imagine a worse torture than that of being denied access to her own daughter. And the more she thought about it, the more she felt guilty for the part she played in separating Catherine and Mary during her quest for the throne.
Sometimes she would write letters to Elizabeth, knowing full well they would never be delivered. She wrote flowing prose about the daily rituals of court life, how she hoped that she was progressing with her French, how proud she was of her and how she loved her more than all the riches in the world.
And once the letter was complete she would place it within an envelope, seal it with a kiss, and store it in her writing bureau that was locked by a key she wore around her neck.
She was forbidden from wearing jewellery any more, save for a simple gold cross and the hollowed out sapphire ring that Henry had permitted her to keep from their courtship. Inside lay two portraits, one of her King and husband, looking as menacing and as magnificent as a god. On the other side lay the rosy cheeked face of her sweet daughter.
She kissed the picture every night before she went to sleep and kept her in prayers, hoping that God would be merciful and grant her a dream in which they would temporarily be reunited in a different realm.
She felt so lonely.
Sometimes she would go days without seeing another soul, save for her own staff of course.
Was this what it was like Catherine? she wondered.
She could hear the merriment of the court down below her rooms and she longed to join them.
Sometimes, on her brighter days, she would dance in her apartments in time to the music that drifted up from beneath the floorboards. She would close her eyes and imagine that she was still in the King's good graces and was in the centre of the hall, dancing with all eyes upon her.
Her hands would hover in the air, as though an invisible hand was clutching on to them. She imagined Henry was standing next to her and they were performing the La Volta. She would smile and remember how kind her husband used to be.
Long long ago.
Then she would open her eye and watch the guards watching her perform. She liked to think she treated them to a spectacle. After all, she was well renown for her elegant carriage and graceful dancing.
I bet Mistress Seymour does not dance as well as I do, she thought spitefully, wondering if she and Henry were dancing beneath her at this very moment.
Beneath the floorboards of Anne's lonely chamber, a splendid feast was occurring accompanied by much dancing and merry making. And as Anne had correctly supposed, at the centre of the hall was Henry and Jane dancing within a loving embrace as they twirled, leaped and entwined their bodies to make a whole, single being.
It was marvelous to watch.
"You dance beautifully, Jane" Henry admired as he whisked her up into the air with great ease before setting her back on to the ground again.
Jane's cheeks flushed scarlet at the rare compliment. Or was it the brisk exercise of the upbeat dance that had caused her usually ivory complexion to flush pink?
"I thank you, My Lord. But surely you must jest. I am not a fine dancer by any means" was her genuinely humble reply as she let Henry wrap his arm around her waist so they could turn out of the dance and into the next step.
Dancing was a pleasure to Jane and she loved to attend country dances at neighbouring estates back in Wiltshire. But she had never been proclaimed a graceful or even particularly good dancer. On the contrary, her movements could be somewhat clumsy at times and she lacked an overall finesse that was expected from well bred ladies.
Yet this is what Henry loved about her.
She was not so studied in her movements, nor was she too aware of her own body. She possessed excellent timing and rhythm and simply let the music guide her. She was so natural and subtle, beaming at him the whole way through, that it was difficult not to be caught by her contagious enthusiasm and mirth. She wasn't faking her enjoyment or her passion.
Anne had been proclaimed an excellent dancer, and it was not a word of a lie.
But whilst she maintained a statuesque stance and possessed nimble limbs, there was no naturalness in her demeanor. In fact compared to Jane, she was positively stiff. Anne was graceful, but it was almost a chore to watch her keep up appearances. She was too in control of her movements and lacked that certain sprezzatura that came so easily to others.
"Nonsense. You dance from the heart. That is what makes you so beautiful" he smiled and he caught her hand mid air and brought it to his mouth, softly brushing his lips over her knuckles and planting it with kisses.
She is so pure.
So innocent.
She doesn't have to plan and plot everything like the others did. Everything she says, everything she does comes from her heart.
A heart that was bursting with love, kindness and gentleness.
Oh how he wished he had noticed her sooner, how different the world could have been.
As the music came to a climax, Jane fell into her neat little curtsy and Henry gave her a gallant, theatrical bow that made the whole hall roar with laughter before they erupted in enthusiastic applause at the happy couple.
"Well, that is enough dancing for me for one night. I shall retire to the side like the old man I am" he jested to the court, but no one dared laugh too loudly in case they wounded the King's pride. Instead they all feigned disappointment, as though it were some great tragedy that the King had decided to retire to his throne for the rest of the evening.
And with that, Henry took a hold of Jane's hand once more and led her up to the steps of his throne.
She did not hesitate for a moment when he bid her to sit in the Queen's seat. In fact she relished it. With a hand on each arm rest, she sat up rather haughtily and observed the court that she now secretly thought of as hers.
And why not?
She was Queen in all but name and that was how she liked it.
And all the while, Henry was clutching her hand as though he was holding on for dear life itself.
"Are you happy?" he queried, a little unsure of himself. Sometimes he thought that someone as good and selfless as Jane could never be truly happy. For surely, one can only gain so much happiness for giving unto others without receiving anything in return.
He would have to reward her for such righteousness in the near future.
Jane regarded him and let their eyes meet for a brief moment, before looking down at the polished wood of the floor and then peering up at him again through her long, dark lashes. She had this look perfected to a tee and was a move that her brothers' playfully referred to as the 'demure coquette' stare.
"Very happy" she stated in that honeyed tone that melted in his ears.
But then a dark cloud overcame him.
"The most?" he couldn't help but spit resentfully. After all, it was this arrogant phrase that was his current wife's motto. As though her happiness some how outranked that of the King and his kingdom.
Well, at least it is better than that dreadful, self absorbed 'let them grumble, that is how it is going to be' she had originally settled upon, he decided. He should have known from that point what a vile, selfish harpy she was.
But back then he had been a fool blinded by lust.
He had been enchanted by that raven hair that hung and swung around her hips like a tapestry of silk.
By her olive complexion that was so exotic he used to playfully refer to her as Cleopatra of the Nile.
By those hypnotic onyx eyes that glittered like diamonds in the sun...
He shook his head and freed her from his thoughts before gazing down into Jane's eyes and smiled.
They were not dark or dangerous like Anne's.
They were an unusual mix of blue and green, an almost turquoise shade, and they shone brightly, inviting anyone to come and speak to her they were that sincere and friendly.
He felt so much safer with these eyes looking up at him and so kissed her affectionately upon her forehead.
"I could only be the most happy when I know you too are truly happy" was her calculated, diplomatic response.
It endeared him to her even more.
She truly is a humble and noble spirit.
"Oh my sweet Jane, I think I would need a miracle to ever truly be happy. But I know that I am closer to achieving it with you by my side" he chuckled at her sincere naivety.
"Might I be so bold as to offer you some advice?" Jane queried cautiously.
Henry silently inclined his head implying that she could continue.
"I think that you dwell too much on the negative in life, and surround yourself with people who think of themselves rather than of you and your kingdom" and here she paused for a moment, as if to consider something, and then turned to the court scoping out all those who she was silently accusing.
Henry tried to follow her gaze but she spun back around the face him again.
"But your family always want the best for you" she continued.
"You mean Anne?" he raised an eyebrow at her, unsure of where this was going.
Jane couldn't help but give an uncharacteristic chortle at this suggestion.
"Well Anne is a Boleyn and a Howard, she will have more of an agenda than most others" she stated with great distaste, as though Boleyn or Howard were dirty curse words that were too foul to to be uttered in polite company. "But you have two Tudor daughters and young Fitzroy. Surely it would do you well to surround yourself with them" she suggested sweetly.
"Elizabeth has been banished as a punishment" he dismissed, turning his head away from her in order to indicate he no longer wished to dwell upon this matter. But Jane dared to continue.
"You should not punish the child for the mother's mistake, Henry" she pleaded in her gentlest voice, using the rare opportunity to use his Christian name in hopes of coaxing him to her cause.
"She has to learn!" he firmly stated, she meaning Anne. "She has to learn that everything she has is due to me and me alone. I can easily take everything she loves away from her"
Jane paused for a moment to carefully consider her words.
She knew she had to be sweet and pliant if she was going to get through to him. She had to hide her ambition under a guise of humble subservience. That way, he would mistake her mere suggestions as being his own well thought out opinion and so was more likely to act upon them.
"Then do that" she nodded her head as though she were agreeing with him, "Bring Elizabeth back to court and forbid the Queen from seeing her. It would be a more severe punishment, having her so close and yet so far away. And this way you do not punish yourself or your daughter. She is only a child after all" she reasoned, knowing that anything he viewed as a further punishment for Anne would help win him over to the idea.
"And what of Mary? Hmm? She is a woman now and yet she is still as obstinate and impertinent as a child" he spat.
He would never have believed that the little girl he used to think of as his auburn haired cherub would grow up to become such a spoiled, ungrateful brat.
"It is true that the Lady Mary is stubborn and rash..." Jane began slowly but Henry interrupted her mid sentence.
"She gets it from her mother! It's that hot Spanish blood of there's" he insisted, becoming slightly agitated and fidgeting in his seat. He felt as though his own blood were boiling at the moment and let out a great, big sigh.
But in an effort to cool his rising temper, Jane strategically clambered forward from the usurped throne and planted herself upon Henry's lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and planting a soft kiss upon the back of his neck that cause his whole spine to tingle.
"Or perhaps it is that infamous Tudor pride" she playfully whispered into his ear.
She knew she had managed to calm him when she heard him express a low chuckle.
"Perhaps" he beamed and Jane was adamant that he was sticking his chest out with pride. She had always thought that Mary was his daughter through and through and it appeared that he thought it too.
Even now he still couldn't think of a prouder moment in his life than when he saw his little angel toppled that snot nosed Dauphin and the outrage on Francis' face. It made his heart swell with pride and affection.
She is definitely a Tudor, he smirked.
"I truly believe that Lady Mary has your best interest at heart and she wants nothing more than your love and respect" she dared to try again.
"Do you read minds, Jane?"
"No, my Lord. But I served the Dowager Princess and often heard them speak of how much they loved and admired you" she relayed tenderly, stroking his arm. "I think deep down, you know that she was influenced by others who did not have your best interest at heart, and being young and a girl, she had her mind poisoned by their drivel. But now it is all in the past and time to make amends"
"If she would submit to my authority, I would happily accept her back to court" he declared as though what she spoke of was already a lost cause.
"What if I were to intercede on your behalf? Like I did with the Queen" she encouraged, trying not to back off until she had made at least an inkling of progress for her cause.
Henry looked a little stunned.
"You wish to pursue a career in diplomacy, Jane?" he joked, looking over the sweet smiling girl with great curiosity and love.
"I cannot be any worse a diplomat than Thomas Boleyn, My Lord" she giggled and at these words Henry followed suit and roared with laughter, pulling her forward into his arms for an intimate embrace.
It was now more than obvious to everyone at court that clever, cunning and seemingly kind hearted Jane Seymour was the new power behind the throne.
For some it was a time to rejoice.
For others, a time to despair.