The lady in waiting
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under the hawthorn tree: The relationship between Jane and George will be explained in more depth soon enough. Sorry you didn't enjoy the last chapter!
Anne sat in her chambers, praying for what she had discovered not to be true. She had a craving for apples. A craving she had not had since she became queen.
I cannot be with child. I will not be with child, Anne vowed. But in her heart of hearts, she knew it was true.
She was with child. And it was with the only man she had ever lain with. Henry's child
Anne's week was almost up and Jane had delivered her a coming-back dress- a gold gown with slashed sleeves revealing rose coloured silk. Her hair hung down with a gold hood in the French style. Around her neck was her signature "B" necklace.
"I am Anne Boleyn. I am alive and very thankful for this. And I will not let this defeat me." Anne told herself, rolling her shoulders back.
"Lady Anne?" Jane asked, "It's time."
Anne ran a hand over her stomach, one might think it was a nervous gesture but Anne was making sure her child was in there. Her belly was still relatively flat, but Anne knew before long, it would swell and the court would whisper and point and speculate who the father was. Inhaling deeply, she captured Jane's dark blue eyes with her own icy blue pair.
"I believe I may be ready."
As Jane watched on, Anne walked with her head held high, either not hearing or ignoring the courts whispers. Jane bet it was the latter and chose to do the same. What Jane couldn't ignore was the way Henry sat up when Anne passed them.
"Why does she tap her belly like that?" Henry asked, sounding insultingly interested
"I did not ask. I will make sure to." Jane said softly, trying to hide her hurt feelings and not make a scene
"No, Jane, you don't understand. Anne has only done that when she was with child." Henry exclaimed, his tone urgent.
"What?" Jane whispered, surely he was mistaken. There was no way Anne Boleyn was pregnant. No way at all.
"Lady Anne? My wife and I request an audience with you later." Henry demanded.
"Yes, your majesty." Anne said, softly curtsying before looking up at him with a curious glare in her blue eyes
"You may rise." Henry said
Anne rose and walked off, worry rising. Surely he doesn't know...please God don't let me get killed. She ran her fingers across the length of her belly and imagined her child, a bastard. No, Anne would not think that way. For her, the infant was not a bastard, but hers. She knew that if it was a girl she would call it Charlotte, Mary (after her sister) or the far more modern Emma but if it was a boy, it would be Nicholas, George (after her brother) or Mark (after the poor violinist who befriended her and got tortured for it). In what seemed like no time at all, she was to talk to Jane and Henry.
"Mistress Boleyn. We have reason to believe you are with child." Henry said slowly. Anne stayed that way for a second, low in a curtsey. He had never seen her so...humble before and he found himself missing the fire.
"Yes. It is true." Anne whispered, protectively holding herself.
"Is it mine?" Henry asked, he had a suspicion but he was not certain. Anne's head snapped up and a blaze returned to her eyes.
"As opposed to whose? My brothers? No, Henry. It's yours. Which you must know, considering the first time I lay with you, the sheets were stained red with the blood of a virgin!" Anne spat, furious tears springing to her eyes.
"Lady Anne! Do not speak to his majesty that way!" Jane gasped, utterly scandalised by the wench's nerve.
"I...apologise. Your majesty." Anne said, hating this.
"Most forgiven. Anne, I have a compromise for you. If you birth this child with no complications, he will be in line to the throne, after any children lady Jane and I have, and after the princess Elizabeth but before the lady Mary." Henry said, "And in return, you shall get a birthing chamber to yourself with as many or little ladies you wish for." Anne thought about it, and decided it was quite a good deal. There was only one thing...
"I wish to change one thing only. If this child is a son, then he must come before any daughters you and the queen may have." Anne challenged.
"ANNE! Why must you always do this?" Henry asked, blazing. "Very well, madam. If it suits you so, then your infant may be ahead of any daughters the queen and I have."
"Thank you for being so gracious as always, majesty." Anne said, sarcasm dripping from her teeth before she curtsied and left.
"Henry..." Jane said, she didn't like this deal.
"Jane." Henry replied shortly
"Anne. You're pregnant? And what a deal you struck!" Thomas Boleyn was delighted. He had overheard her talking to George about it.
"Yes. I am. And you will have no involvement in my child's life." Anne said, her tone dull.
"What do you mean, no involvement? Anne, remember who raised you up?" Thomas snapped
"Yes. I do remember. It was me. I once told you that it was not thanks to you or George or Norfolk or any other man. But the truth is, you had little involvement at all. Because Henry had a choice and he fell for me. And he fell out of love for me. And he fell in love with Jane Seymour and I respect that, father. Because, if Jane Seymour weren't here, I would be dead and this child who could do marvellous, wonderful things, wouldn't exist." Anne breathed deeply after her tirade, noting with some satisfaction how fishlike her father seemed. For once, she had gotten one over him.