Chapter IX

January, 1523

Guilt jabbed Anne's heart as she saw the Queen's content expression morph into one of dismay as she saw the little French princess for the first time.

Anne remembered her father's scheming and boasts during their time in France, and she was ashamed to be witness to it. She remembered the chosen princess – Charlotte de Valois – from her time in France, and was utterly embarrassed that she didn't inform the Queen of Princess Charlotte's poor health when she had the chance to.

"She does not look like she can survive an English winter," Mary Carey whispered into Anne's ear for the third time as they sunk into curtsies. "Do you think Father is right in me having a chance to be future Queen of England with my sons the next kings?"

"Hold your tongue!" hissed Anne through gritted teeth. "You speak bloody treason no matter if Father is right or wrong!"

Mary's lips tightened but she said nothing.

Anne fervently wished Mary had the brains – and means – to escape their father's verbal abuse and constant plotting. It had only gotten worse now that their uncle Norfolk was fully 'invested' in their affairs and was just as disagreeable and demanding as their father.

"Presenting Their Royal Highnesses, Prince Henri de Valois, Duke of Orléans and Princess Charlotte de Valois!" announced Wiltshire arrogantly.

"Thank you, Lord Wiltshire," said the King warmly, his facial expression plain with no signs of disappointment or joy as his daughter-in-law was presented to him along with the sour-faced young Duke of Orléans. He knelt down and looked at the Valois siblings in the eye. "Hello," he said gently. "Henri and Charlotte is it? Are you pleased to be in England?"

"Non!" said the four year old Henri hotly. "I want to go home!"

Anne exchanged uneasy looks with her sister. From what their father told them during their journey from France to England, the French king was obliged to give his second son to the King of England as a ward as a sign of good faith and in return, England will not invade in the duration of twelve years (by the end of it, the Duke of Orléans will be returned to France) and will not pursue an alliance with the Holy Roman Empire or Spain.

"You will soon," said the King soothingly. "You will stay here for quite some time. Wouldn't that be exciting? What about you, Charlotte?"

Small in stature with abundant reddish hair covered by a French hood and with darting greenish-blue eyes, the seven year old Princess cowered as the King looked at her.

"I am married," she whispered in almost pitiful, broken English. "To the…Prince of Wales."

The King turned to the Queen and she nodded, motioning for Anne to approach the terrified Princess and suspicious Prince.

Anne approached the Valois siblings and said softly, "Do you remember me, Your Highness?"

Charlotte's eyes lit up to a brilliant shade of emerald. "Mademoiselle Boleyn!" she said, her pallid cheeks brightening extensively.

Alert by his sister's sudden enthusiasm, Henri smiled at Anne. He is a protective brother, she thought as she smiled back. He has been told England is enemy territory, and like any chivalrous knight, he will protect his sister from anyone.

Encouraged by his mother, the Prince of Wales stepped forward and kissed Charlotte's hand, the Princess blushing a little.

"Madame la princess," he said kindly in perfect French. "Ça me fait plaisir de te revoir."

Charlotte smiled as she recognised her betrothed. She was told by her father that in England, everyone would already assume she was married to the Prince of Wales, but in truth, they will remain betrothed until her eighth birthday when they will be married with grand festivities to celebrate. Her father was also confident that when she turns fifteen, they will be wed again, this time consummating their union when she will be impregnated with the future Tudor heir.

"Merci, Monsieur le Prince," Charlotte said, grateful the Prince chose to speak French for her sake. She was also told – this time by her grandmother, Louise of Savoy – that some princes are not kind to their wives and will generally ignore them until the time is needed for heirs to be produced. Charlotte was fortunate the Prince of Wales was not that type of prince.

The King straightened up and nodded politely at the French ambassador, Monsieur Antoine de Castelnau. "Your Excellency," he acknowledged. "A pleasant journey I hope?"

"Not bad," answered Castelnau mildly. "An uneventful journey, but at least the Duke of Orléans and Princess Charlotte arrived here safely. I beg your pardon for my rudeness, but I must write to Their Majesties of France. They are both – especially the Queen – concerned for their children, and as the ambassador of France, it is my duty to assure them the Duke and Princess are both well, healthy and above all, safe from harm."

The King nodded. "Of course, of course."

Castelnau bowed and stalked away, most likely to his ambassadorial quarters. The King left his new French wards in the Duchess of Suffolk's capable hands and returned to the Queen, Anne trailing behind him with the other lords and ladies at a respective pace.

"The Duchess will introduce them to her children shortly," the King murmured to his wife. "Tonight, we will introduce them to our children. I thought it would be best to postpone the feast until tomorrow for them to settle in. To be frank, I am astonished at Wiltshire's choice. He spoke a great deal of words about Charlotte's 'blooming health', but all I see is a small child who does not seem to have the strength to last through winter! Was Wiltshire lying or is it King Francis's fault? Did he give us the wrong princess as some soft of humiliating joke?"

"That is not possible," Anne heard the Queen murmur back. "Lady Anne informed me that the Princess Charlotte was chosen on the grounds she is closest in age to Harry. Children grow. Perhaps God will answer our prayers and bless Charlotte with robustness. It is a little early, but I am slightly concerned by her ability to bear Harry children."

"Oh Catherine! I am not disappointed you only gave me three children! Besides, you do not need to concern yourself with the succession. I have two brothers, remember?"

"What if Harry dies? Who will succeed him? Mary or your brother Henry?"

The King stopped in his tracks, Anne almost colliding into him.

"There will be a feast in the great hall this afternoon," he announced to the train of courtiers – the majority English with a small selection of French – behind him. "It is in honour of the Duke of Orléans and Princess Charlotte de Valois, and if you intend to attend, please prepare yourselves and join us in an hour! All courtiers are invited!"

The courtiers bowed and curtsied as the royals headed off to their chambers. Before Anne could think about the conversation she overheard, Mary Carey had grabbed her arm and said excitedly, "What will you wear to the feast?"

"My pale blue gown I suppose," said Anne placidly. "I wanted to wear my new purple one but the Queen is wearing purple…"

"Wear the purple gown Anne! You look so lovely in purple!"

"But the Queen-"

"Everyone knows the King will remain faithful to her! Even if you are ten times more beautiful than the Queen, he will never be tempted to take a mistress. I think he is more terrified than honourable to take a mistress. Henry has asked me to wear my cream coloured gown. He says I look like a shining sun in it." She beamed joyfully.

He allows you to call him 'Henry' now, does he? Anne thought, but she said uncertainly, "I was hoping to save the purple gown for the official feast…"

Mary shrugged. "Very well. You could always wear the red one."

"I think I will," agreed Anne. "Shall we go?" Smiles on both Boleyn girls' faces, they set off to their apartments, both ready to prepare themselves for the afternoon feast.


Almost customarily, Edmund led Anne to the first dance simultaneously to the Duke of York's first dance with Mary Carey. For some odd reason, many courtiers – with the exception of the hawk-eyed Wiltshire and foxy Norfolk – haven't noticed Anne's friendship with the Duke of Somerset and have not spread rumours of her as his potential mistress of yet. Then again, the courtiers gossiped more about the cheerful, twinkling eyed Duke of York and his host of mistresses than his serious younger brother and the topic of Mary Carey as his latest mistress remained in the top subjects of discussion in court.

"I heard interesting news today," remarked Edmund as he spun Anne around.

"Oh?" said Anne, always eager to hear new pieces of information. "What is it?"

"The King had written his will – quite detailed I believe – and what appears to be his orders regarding the royal succession."

"Are you permitted to tell me, my lord Somerset?" She winked – in her opinion – rather devilishly at the same time as seductive. She dipped and rose gracefully as they continued dancing. "It will be a shame to see you banished from court for revealing private information," she added, amused by Edmund's solemn expression. "Even though the King is your brother, I doubt he will forgive you easily for betraying his trust."

"It is a secret," confirmed Edmund. "However, the King will reveal it to the Privy Council in the next meeting and even though it is private, I will tell you anyway."

"You are willing to risk your brother's displeasure over this?"

"You are my good friend – one of my closest in fact – and I am interested in hearing your opinions about it. After all, you are one of the cleverest ladies at court."

Anne stared at him, temporarily stunned at him addressing her as one of his closest friends.

"The King has written his orders about the succession," whispered Edmund, leading Anne a little away from the other dancers. "I suppose after seeing Charlotte de Valois, he is concerned she will die leaving Harry childless. Of course there is the option of remarriage, but what if she dies from Sweating Sickness and he dies shortly after her?"

"Princess Mary will be Queen," replied Anne. Her eyes widened as she breathed, "By God…Princess Mary will be Queen of England in her own right!"

"Exactly! However, there are some that will not accept her as Queen Regnant. To prevent another devastating war, the King wrote that if the Prince of Wales were to die childless, Princess Mary would succeed him as Princess of Wales and the future Queen of England. However, she must marry an English nobleman with royal blood like the Courtenays and her children must be born and raised in England. If she too dies without issue, Princess Cecily will succeed her and she too must marry a royal-blooded English nobleman. If she also dies childless, her successor will be Henry, followed by his children, then me and my future descendants and then the Duchess of Suffolk and Katherine. Elizabeth is dead-" His voice trembled as he remembered his deceased sister. "-And Margaret is the widow of the King of Scots. Their descendants will be German and Scottish, and the King is fervent in his decision to ensure his throne remains in English hands."

"That seems quite safe. I don't think the Dowager Queen of Scots will relinquish her right to the throne so easily, or at all for a matter of fact."

"That is what I fear. Margaret always had a quick temper – quite similar to Henry's and Mary's – and is well aware of her position in the succession."

"Will the councillors accept it?"

"I suppose so. Henry will argue against it of course, but I am willing to stand by all of Arthur's decisions, including the matter of the succession. I am his subject and it is my duty to be loyal and supportive of him."

"You are willing to watch your niece succeed as Queen hypothetically?'

"Indeed. It may sound strange, but I have no ambitions to be king of England. I've watched Arthur resolve conflicts in England and abroad and his many sleepless nights about England's financial stability and economy. If God decides for Mary to be Queen of England in her own right, I will support her and advise her as I do to Arthur."

"What if the Duke of York resorts to war?"

"I will send troops against him."

His calmness sent shivers running down Anne's spine. She was aware Edmund loves his family and had less ambitions than herself, but never knew he would potentially battle against his own brother to secure a woman on the English throne.

"I've frightened you," said Edmund apologetically. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you so much about it. Please forget it. Actually, it would be best if you forget everything I just told you. It'll save you from an accusation of treason and a walk to Tower Green. I always forget you are still a woman and can be easily frightened about-"

"No, no!" Anne reassured him. "You did not frighten me! I'm not afraid of anything."

"Really? You aren't afraid of your own future?"

"Oh, I'm sure it is nothing to be frightened of. My father will marry me off to a Butler or any other powerful nobleman; I will be a wife and bear him sons. I will watch my own children grow up, marry and have offspring of their own. The future of any woman."

"You know as well as I do that that future is false. You are too clever to be bartered off for your father's purposes. If you were any ordinary woman, you would've thrown yourself at me like how your sister Lady Carey did to Henry. You would've offered to be my mistress and mother of my bastards and be pushed this way and that way as your father's pawn in his game of chess. You've decided to take the gamble and play for something bigger. Tell me, Lady Anne. Are you afraid what your gamble will lead you?"

"I'm not gambling anything."

Edmund arched an eyebrow. "Oh please, Lady Anne. Everything you do in court is a gamble. Now tell me – hopefully before this dance is over – what you fear about your future."

Anne sighed. "I don't know…spinsterhood? My father's displeasure? Being disinherited? Dying old and alone? I have not thought about it much lately."

"I have," said Edmund decidedly as the dance neared its end and Henry Percy danced closer to them with the snooty-faced Lady Mary Talbot. "Ever since I was young, I feared after I married, I would be charmed by wantonly ladies and break my vows. Now, all I want is a quiet life, marriage with the woman I love and children."

"Really? The honourable and good Duke of Somerset wishes for nothing but a quiet life in the countryside and marriage?"

Edmund flourished a bow before staring into her eyes and saying quietly, "Not marriage to any woman. Marriage to one woman – my true love."

Anne stared at him as he whisked his way into the next dance with Mary Talbot, whose haughty expression was marred with a smug grin. Before she could contemplate Edmund's words, she found herself dancing with Henry Percy.

"It has been a while since we last danced, my lady," he remarked.

"It has," Anne managed to say. "I heard your father wants you to marry a Talbot girl."

"That Talbot girl." He nodded to Mary Talbot. "I heard she is a shrew." He shuddered. "Of course I do not have a say in the matter, but I had hopes of marrying another woman." His eyes lingered on her before he twirled her around.

"Oh? Who may that be, Lord Percy?"

"She is clever, beautiful and kind to all…"

"Perhaps the Queen, Lord Percy?" Anne joked. "You must know she is married to our gracious King and will be his wife until her death!"

Henry Percy laughed. "Not the Queen, my lady Anne! You of course! You are witty, lovely and have enough noble blood to rival Mary Talbot! Besides, you are now the daughter of an Earl! My father must consider you worthy enough to be my wife! You too, are still unmarried, Lady Anne! Wouldn't your father be pleased at the prospect of you marrying the heir to the Northumberland earldom? He clearly changed his mind about you marrying that Butler."

Anne frowned. "I do not-"

"I'm certain a dowry can be agreed upon quickly," the lovesick Lord Henry pressed on. "Come! Let us go and ask my father now!"

Conveniently the dance ended and he led a bewildered Anne to his formidable father, the grim-faced and splendidly dressed Henry Percy, 5th Earl of Northumberland, who was in the midst of a discussion with the King's cousin and his brother-in-law, Edward Stafford, 3rd Duke of Buckingham, who is also maternally related to Anne.

"Lord Father," said Lord Henry respectfully, his eyes shining with excitement. "Your Grace."

"Lord Percy," acknowledged Buckingham. "Who is your lady friend?"

"This is Lady Anne Boleyn," said Lord Henry breathlessly as Anne curtsied politely. "She is the younger

daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, 1st Earl of Wiltshire and-"

"And Lady Elizabeth Howard," Buckingham finished. "My son-in-law's sister."

"So this is the infamous Lady Anne Boleyn," said Northumberland coldly. "Sister of the Duke of York's current whore. Son! I am surprised you chose to associate yourself with such people."

Anne blushed, but kept a calm exterior as Buckingham chortled.

Lord Henry flushed. "Lord Father! Lady Anne is not like her sister in any manner! She is virtuous, witty, beautiful and talented-"

"Talented in enchanting men?" Northumberland chuckled harshly. "I find it hard to believe that she is as virtuous as you described. Look at Lady Mary Talbot! She is dancing so gracefully with the Duke of Somerset! She is a woman to be proud of." He raised his goblet to Mary Talbot's father – George Talbot, 4th Earl of Shrewsbury – a short distance away and nodded courteously. "I suggest you stop wasting time with unsuitable ladies and charm the Talbot lady," he said sharply to his son. "She is to be your wife someday and you will do yourself a favour by associating yourself with her before you wed and bed her. I expect a brood of grandsons in the future."

"I am not here to discuss Lady Mary Talbot."

"Then why are you here?'

Lord Henry took a deep breath before stating strongly, "I wish to marry Lady Anne Boleyn. She is as noble as Lady Mary Talbot and is perfect to be the future Countess of Northumberland."

Clang!

They turned and saw wine flooding all over Edmund's feet, his goblet lying on the ground, half of it drenched with the red liquid.

"Forgive me," he said as servants hurried towards him and the other courtiers stared at him. "I was a little clumsy, forgive me." He bowed slightly before shooting Anne an accusative and hurt glare as a servant wiped his shoes.

"Oh…" said Northumberland thoughtfully. "You wish to marry Lady Anne?"

"You cannot be serious in considering it," snorted Buckingham, looking at Anne disdainfully. "Her father was nothing but a knight before he was ennobled! Your son has pure, noble blood, and you want your future descendants to be stained with-"

"Your Grace, please." Northumberland raised his hand to silence his brother-in-law. "I will never dream of seeing my descendants tainted with blood from a knight's daughter." He glanced at his son sternly. "If you intend to remain my heir and inherit my fortune and titles, you will obey my command: wipe that foolish notion of marrying Lady Anne Boleyn from your mind and never mention her name in my presence again. If you do not want Lady Mary Talbot as your wife, choose another lady of similar social standing to her by the end of a fortnight, or be prepared to welcome Lady Mary Talbot as your future wife and mother of your children. If you wish to marry Lady Eleanor Neville, younger sister of the 4th Earl of Westmorland, I will consider it. If you desire to wed a sister of the 2nd Marquess of Dorset, I will again, consider it. However, if you dare suggest marriage between yourself and another knight's daughter again, you will find yourself disinherited, penniless and on the streets."

"Lord Father!" protested Lord Henry desperately. "Lady Anne is not a knight's daughter, and besides, lady mother is the daughter of a knight-"

Slap!

Anne flinched as Northumberland leant closer to his son and whispered, "Do not mention your lady mother as a knight's daughter ever again. She inherited her father's fortune upon his death. What will this Anne Boleyn inherit? Nothing! This matter is over! I do not want to hear of it ever again! Now go and dance with Mary Talbot!"

Lord Henry gave Anne a desperate look before fleeing to the dance floor in search of the sour and arrogant Lady Mary Talbot.

"Lady Anne," said Northumberland shortly, before Anne could leave. "Walk with me."

Bowing to Buckingham, the two of them walked casually towards the feasting table where tired ladies and lords sat and talked. "You may think being the daughter or Wiltshire is something to be proud of," he said savagely. "It is not. Your whoring sister married Sir William Carey – my nephew by marriage – and your brother will marry a daughter of another upstart knight. Despite your father now being an Earl, you will never marry well! No matter how hard your father tries, he will never be able to wed you to a nobleman of the old nobility."

"That is not true, Lord Northumberland," said Anne icily. "I will die rather than marry a knight."

Northumberland snorted. "Well then! If I hear news of your death due to Sweating Sickness, I will know Wiltshire has finally realised nobles will not accept you for their sons and he finally betrothed you to a knight. What about Master Edward Seymour? His father is a knight and I will be delighted to see you as nothing more than Lady Anne, Mistress Seymour."

Anne flushed with anger at his insults. "I will not marry a knight or a member of the gentry and my brother will not marry a knight's daughter!"

"Oh?" smirked Northumberland. "Who will he wed then?"

Anne knew that her next words could be considered treason and she risked everything – her life, her father's life, and George's life – by uttering proudly, "Princess Katherine Tudor."

Northumberland barked with laughter, wine spilling from his goblet as he shook uncontrollably with amusement. Courtiers glanced at him in surprise, as he was often silent in public occasions.

"You are a fool, Lady Anne," he said after he recovered. "Not only are you a fool, but a liar. When I am invited to your brother's wedding to…let's say Jane Parker, I will remember your brash words and remind you of them."

Chuckling to himself, he sauntered off, leaving Anne by herself.

Only a mere minute later, a pale George walked up to her.

"What happened to you?" she inquired curiously.

"Pieces of my heart are cracking," he said softly, reaching for a goblet of wine. "Father just informed me of Princess Katherine's betrothal. Originally she was to marry either the Duke of Parma or the King of Portugal, but the King refused to send her away from England. Instead…she is to wed the Duke of Buckingham's heir, Lord Henry Stafford. Buckingham is one of the most powerful dukes in all of England, and he has royal and noble blood! Of course the King will want his sister to marry well. What can I do, Anne? I will never be happy again!"

"The King will be happy for his sister to be Lady Stafford?"

"Upon their marriage, Henry Stafford will be 'Earl Stafford' until his father's death, when he will succeed him as duke of Buckingham."

That was why Northumberland was so amused! Anne thought furiously. His brother-in-law is Buckingham and he knew about Katherine's sudden betrothal to Buckingham's son!

"You will be happy," Anne forced herself to say, as the cogs in her mind began moving. "I will make sure of it. I promise."


So...what do you think Anne will do? Risk her neck for her brother's happiness? ;) I doubt Lord Northumberland is that discourteous to Anne, but I always imagined the 'old nobles' harboured great hatred towards the 'upstart nobles' during the Tudor era.