Lieblings! I come with another chapter, enjoy!
The next day Charles left for Portugal with Princess Margaret. He did not see Anne in the farewell company. Anne sat in the Queen's Chambers alone having excused herself from ceremony feigning illness, if only eluding the King were as simple. The following Sunday, as usual, the Queen and her ladies attended morning mass. Anne stood behind the Queen at the head of the ladies present as they awaited the King and his groomsmen. She wore a dark blue dress with pearls laced into the bodice with a sparkling white veil over the back of her hair. They remained for a while; the only sound the choir singing, until in the distance a muffled cry broke the serenity as a servant cleared the way for the King. Henry bid his wife good morning while Anne kept her eyes forward and as still as though Medusa had gazed upon her, the Queen blissfully unaware that as she turned to face forward Henry stole a glance at Anne. Their Majesty's stepped to the royal pews, Henry's attention still on Anne, his eyes quickly scanning her body. Anne did not need to be a psychic to know what he was thinking of. As the King and Queen took their places, Anne, the ladies and the King's groomsmen fell into place beside them. Antony stood beside Anne in Charles' sometime place, a pang of disappointment sunk in her belly. Knelt before the altar and Wolsey, the King looked at Anne again and she remained rigid, feeling almost like a spider trying to run across the room when it is suddenly noticed. Unfortunately, Anne was not alone in noting the King's wayward eye, Katherine, who had seen Henry take so many of her ladies into his bed, swallowed hard and restrained herself. Even after all this time and all the different women it still hurt that he should want another. Mass, which dragged normally, seemed to go on forever and an eternity. Every few minutes the King would look over as if he were checking that Anne was still there. It made the hairs on the back of her neck tingle and her heart race with nervousness, a single bead of sweat ran down the small of her back. Anne tried to focus her attention on the sermons and hymns but her mind ran away, wishfully dreaming of sailing back to France, or better, chase after Charles in a great galleon. The fantasy soon shattered by the King creeping down her bosom.
The service could not have ended sooner. Anne hurried after Jane Parker, who was walking painfully slow, to the Queen's Chambers, stepping on the train of her dress more than once. Finally inside, Anne threw off her veil and darted to her living quarter to change into something more comfortable.
"Tighter!" Anne barked at Jane as she tied the lacing of the leather stay.
"If I pull it any tighter it will choke you," Anne didn't care, she felt dirty, unclean and this was only the beginning of her father's exploit. Underthings laced and tied, Anne wriggled into a yellow dress with burnished orange pattern down the middle of the bodice and skirt; it had French sleeves, tight over the upper arm which fanned out over top of the forearm, unlike the Spanish fashion, that the Queen ordered they wear, that puffed out over the shoulder. At ease again Anne apologised to Jane before trotting out of the Chambers to seek her father, who had been his Majesty's guest ever since his eye lay on Anne, grabbing her golden parcel as she went.
As she walked through court the interest of all young men, high born and low, were trained on Anne. She had to admit she liked it, mainly it was harmless but it always brought a smile to her face that she, the sullen, dark haired siren was more desirable than her fair sister. She held her head high until she turned the corner to her father's door; yes he may have had a hand in raising her but since she had reached maturity Anne swore that ice water ran through his veins opposed to blood; and no George to protect her should he fly into a rage. Anxiously she knocked lightly on the door. Thomas Boleyn was engrossed in letters from France and commands from Wolsey. Ever the shrewd man, he had opened the curtains and the windows so not to waste a single candle and although the room was finely decorated, as were all the apartments at court, much of its finery was buried beneath yellowing pieces of parchment.
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"What!" He roared without looking up from a document. With an alien sense of confidence Anne approached his desk and dropped the King's gift on her father's work. He immediately looked up then returned to the package. Faster than a starving man could devour a slice of bread he tore at the folds of the fabric greedily. He froze as he beheld the four precious and, more importantly to him, expensive jewels.
"Oh my daughter," He gasped, running his fingers over the broaches. "You have out done yourself," he held the ruby and gold one up to the light and basked in its glimmer. Still riding his wave of satisfaction, Anne held out the King's letter, Charles' note having been long since burnt. "Dearest Anne," Her father read aloud from the letter,
"I grant you gold to crown you,
A Royal Lion ever to be your guardian,
A precious Vessel on precious nesting,
And Silver wings to fly you ever fast to me.
These are the jewels of a Queen. Wear them, Queen of my Heart. H . R'
"Well, I cannot vouch for the King's taste in poetry but, my daughter, 'Queen of my Heart'," His speech broke into an exultant cackle. Anne took a deep breath, her confidence waning.
"Papa, I'm going back to Hever" His face dropped, "And I plan on returning the jewels," She braced herself for his wrath. The muscles in her face tightened as he stepped towards her anticipating violence. Yet nothing came. Her father's eyes were fixed on Anne but looked through her in thought. Absently he stroked his daughter's cheek.
"Yes, you cannot seem so easily won or he will tire of you. What is the hunt without the thrill of the chase?" Boleyn returned to his desk and resumed his work barely noticing Anne's departure. She left his room with a great shudder of relief.
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The next morning, Anne, dressed for travel, knelt at Queen Katherine's feet to formally take leave of court.
"I trust your Majesty will know the cause," she said softly. Queen Katherine leaned forward in her chair and gently took Anne's hands.
"I am sorry, Mistress Anne. Go with God," she pressed a dainty gold filigree cross into Anne's hand, "And know that you are in my prayers."
"Thank you, your Majesty" Anne whispered, her voice shaking. Impulsively, Queen Katherine gathered her close in a motherly embrace.
"Do not be afraid to weep when you are alone," she counselled, "Tears cleanse the soul and will give your heart a blessed relief. When Mister Brandon returns all will be well again, I promise" Her last words a whisper in Anne's ear. Anne roused a cheerful smile though in her heart and head she knew nothing would change, perhaps only that her father's ambition would grow. She bid farewell to all the ladies she had served with, her trust lying with Lady Anne Clifford that her gifts be returned along with a letter of her own.
"Lady Anne," William Compton called as she passed through the Great Hall. "First his Majesty's sister leaves us and now you. If this continues we shall have no beauties left at court," He bowed and formally kissed her back of her right hand. There was a twinkle in his eye as he looked up at her. "I'm sure Charles will be disappointed when he discovers you're gone." Anne snatched her hand from him. William wasn't a cruel man but he loved to be proved right and Anne's reaction had done just that, denying an infatuation would only confirm the notion. "Farewell, Mistress Boleyn, I hope you'll return to us soon." He bid with a faint laugh. Anne hurried away before anyone else could mention the Duke of Suffolk – it seemed everyone at court had not forgotten the brief exchange at the joust, all except the King.
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Anne climbed into the carriage and as the horses pulled her out of the city and into the countryside, the Queen's words played in her head over and over. The King is Charles' oldest and truest friend; if he were to know Charles' desire for Anne would he cease his pursuit? Even if the royal hound was restrained it would take no less than a miracle and then some for her father to allow a union between them. She heaved a sigh and leaned her head upon her fist, with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her mind Anne knew this was going to be a long journey. The carriage jostled her to and fro as it sped down tight country roads. When they came to change horses at Swanley Anne was more than relieved to be on terra firma, her stomach churning worse than a maelstrom. However, the respite was brief and soon Anne was back on the road trying not to vomit on the ornate seat pattern. When she felt the carriage slow and the dirt road give way to the crunch of small stones as they passed on to Hever grounds, Anne breathed slowly, constantly reassuring herself it was only a few feet more and she could escape this nauseating carriage. A line of servants were stood at the entrance ready to accept Anne and her belongings. They burst into life once the carriage stopped, scurrying from the new arrivals to the house and back like ants. George was waiting also. Anne's door burst open and George darted to Anne's side before she fell out. Gently he lifted her down and then made the tactical decision to move out of aim.
"Brother," She may have sounded steady like her sure self but her green complexion did wonders at ruining the charade.
Some days later Anne and George were sitting in the kitchen at Hever, Anne huddled in a cosy corner by the fire. It was the warmest place in the house, with a huge open fire and rows of ovens radiating heat. She wore a dress of off-white satin with cherry coloured roses and their leaves scattered in an untidy pattern. As anticipated, Anne's refusal did not dampen the King's desire but make the hunger greater. That morning an envoy had arrived carrying another parcel from the King and now Anne sat reading the letter aloud to her brother.
"Wait!" She was suddenly interrupted by George. "Give it to me," He tried to grab the letter but Anne jerked it out of reach and with a cheeky look eyed him. "Give it." She relented and handed it over. George read on; "... a place in your heart and grounded affection." He looked up at Anne "Grounded affection?"
"Grounded" George gave an appreciative whistle and continued reading.
"Tell me at least that we may meet in private. I mean nothing more than a chance to talk to you" he raised a mocking eyebrow as Anne got to her feet, her pleas for the letter's return ignored. "I beg you, come back to court. And meanwhile accept this new gift and wear it, for my sake" He looked at Anne again. "What gift? And where is it?" With a graceful flick of her hair Anne indicated her neck. The shoulderless dress put the King's latest gift on display; a double string of pearls and gold and amber beads with a solid gold cross, inset with a large pearl. George stared at the necklace dumbfounded, "Oh Holy Jesus", before Anne snatched back the letter snapping him back to conscious.
"You're going to do it then? Become his mistress?" Where their father would have commanded this, George did not sound so certain.
"Sacrificed on the altar of parental ambition," Anne sighed quietly to herself so George barely heard her. She ran her finger tips over the pearl on the cross. "I have no choice," She replied cheerlessly. "You know father; it will be his Majesty's bed or a convent cot." Anne lent her head in her hands staring at the flickering fire. For a moment her thoughts ran to Charles, where ever he might be, and of the kiss in maze. Only a fool would hope but there it was, the smallest hope that her father may be struck with an epiphany of kindness, that she and Charles may marry and live happily with children and a fine house. Anne sighed resignedly, Only a fool would hope.
From then on things moved quickly. Hoof beats came clattering urgently to Hever's door, and Thomas Boleyn flung himself from the saddle and rushed inside as if the hounds of Hell were nipping at his heels. Within moments he stood before his children panting and dripping with sweat. The King had fallen from his horse, he was unharmed but he must have been shaken by the event for Anne was commanded back to court. At Thomas Boleyn's demand, an army of dressmakers descended upon Hever, and the rustle of costly fabrics, the snip of scissors, the snap of thread, and the chatter of women soon filled the sewing room. Lace makers, furriers, clothiers, perfumers, jewellers, shoemakers, stay makers, all rode from London as reinforcements summoned by her anxious father to outfit Anne.
Thomas Boleyn circled Anne appraisingly.
"Ah, the life of a court toady!" Anne announced as she stood upon a stool while a seamstress knelt to adjust the hem of her new pomegranate red gown. "Such backbreaking labour almost makes one envy a bricklayer!" This prompting George, lounging in a chair draped with swags of silk and lace, to burst into great, rollicking peals of laughter and earning himself a sharp cuff upon the ear courtesy of his father. In his chair George sniggered helplessly, despite his father's warning stare.
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With her sumptuous new finery, Anne returned to court and resumed her duties in Queen Katherine's household. Her Majesty was pleased to see her return, Anne felt likewise though guilt haunted the reunion, how could she be loyal when she came to court to bed the King. Charles was still nowhere to be seen and though it saddened Anne she knew it was for the best – that which is least mentioned heals fastest. The night of her return Queen Katherine was to attend the knighting of William Compton and Anthony Knivert, so Anne, despite her weariness from travel, was called to be present.
The King was making his way through the Great Watching Chamber when he saw Anne. He bid all the Queen's ladies a welcome but lingered on her, she was wearing the gold and pearl cross he sent.
"You are back at court, I see" He feasted his eyes on her a moment; she was wearing the same silver blue dress as when they met at the picnic for the Emperor and it made him glad to see her in it again, even if it subdued her chest more than he liked. Until that moment, Anne had only been something the King could admire from afar but now that he was close, now that she could feel his breath something in her stirred.
"May I see you privately?" He said discreetly. Anne nodded in agreement; it was the little she could do without losing her composure. She could not believe the betrayal of her body, that she wanted to give over to the King, to Henry, and let him have her in any way he wanted. She felt George sneak up behind her and take her hands but her gaze remained fixed on the King. She had never truly taken a good look at him, before he had always been the King and nothing more but now she saw the man. The young man, with a handsome face and athletic physique. Anne watched as the King and Queen sat, George fussing over the placement of her necklace, and basked in a little smug satisfaction as the King's eye remained on her.
A short time later, Henry detached himself from his courtiers and went to meet Anne Boleyn. She was waiting for him outside the chamber in one of the palace's many galleries. She breathed heavily and looked around her as though she had lost something. Upon sighting the King she calmed. Henry took her hand, it was soft and she was beautiful, he pulled her closer. He felt like a boy not a King, meeting with his sweetheart in the shadows, anxiously on the lookout in case of intrusion.
"I've dreamt of this moment a long time" He whispered, "Anne, you must know I desire you with all my heart." Henry traced his hand along her arm, over her neck, slowing to regard how his necklace looked on her, and lingering over her breast. Suddenly he grabbed her neck, his thumb holding her chin in place "The young man you were dallying with earlier, who was he?"
Anne smiled, "My brother George." At her words, Henry relaxed with a little laugh of relief; he softened his grip to a caress and gently drew her toward him. After the earlier difficulty he'd had in seeing her, he expected some resistance, but she gave him none. She glided into his arms as if she belonged there. Henry kissed her, long and deeply. At last at last. He gazed into her wonderful eyes which seemed to shine with a light of their own even in the dull passage. They kissed and it was everything he had dreamed of and more. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her a third time but there were footsteps in the corridor and they broke guiltily apart.
"Her majesty expects me"
"Later?" Anne dropped a quick curtsey and hurried away into the shadows just as Anthony and William turned the corner
"Who was that your Majesty?" Compton asked.
"Just a girl" Henry said softly "Just a girl."
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Meanwhile, in the port of Lisbon, Charles was waking from spending another night in the bed of the soon to be Queen of Portugal. Margaret was listless and waiting antsy at the window of the ship's stern.
"I should hate you" She said coldly.
"But you don't. I know you don't" He placed his hand on her shoulder reassuringly and though she stirred some compassion in him, Charles wished that he had spent the night with Anne instead.
Please review if I've lost my juju and the quality has gone from good to suckish!...but also please review if you like the story or want to see a particular scene.
(BTW any TrueBlood fans out there? Season 3 ending OMG!)