Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the plot.
Title: Perish in the Name of Passion
Summary: Shallow sorrows and shallow loves live on. The loves and sorrows that are great are destroyed by their own plenitude, Oscar Wilde. Henry had spared Anne from beheading. But on the last day, he had unknowingly let go of two lives. It will be six years later that they are reunited, but have their feelings changed enough to give them a second chance at love? HenryxAnnexCharles
helenamtavares: Well, like it is already stated, the story is centered on Henry and Anne as a couple, but Charles is nevertheless an important character, actually as important as both of them. I know that this was not that clear, since Charles is mentioned quite often here, but let's just say it was just starting. And just because Henry and Anne are in the main focus, does not necessarily mean that they would end up together. They could end up together ... or they might not, everything is still open and just see where the story is heading to^^
Note: Concerning this little triangle, I had made up a poll. So if any of you feel like they have to vote for their favorite paring, because it would be worse than death if they do not end up together, then please, just go on vote ;)
Chapter 9:
The days continued to pass in a drearily pace, as Anne, Charles and Henry avoided each other at all cost.
Everything had turned out so different than what she had expected. When she had arrived and it had not been even that long, she had always assumed that Charles would be there for her. She had foolishly depended on his presence, which she could lean on and a shoulder to comfort her. She wondered how their relationship, which had always fared so smooth, turn so sour in such a short time.
It was as though the place was cursed. Barely a second had passed when Charles and her got into a fight, or was it a misunderstanding? It was a misunderstanding in her eyes, but it was not like she was in the right state of mind to judge. Perhaps it was just that she would have liked to believe it was a misunderstanding? But what was there to misunderstand? Were things not clear enough? How was it even possible to misunderstand when she had assumed that they knew each other well enough to avoid such things?
Or perhaps she would have just liked to believe this?
And what would it mean if it was not a misunderstanding?
The accusation, not only in his words, but mostly she saw the accusation in his eyes whenever he looked at her after he believed something had happened. The fury and, what haunted her the most, the disappointment in them hurt more than any accusation he could throw at her. They set something off in her. But this was not the only reason she avoided Charles. It was furthermore the reason she avoided Henry.
The last memories of their last encounter were still plaguing her mind, putting her in emotional disarray. In addition to Charles' words, his suspect of being more than what might seem at first sight and suspect of a growing interest in Henry made her doubt grow further. It was not that she feared the truth in the outcome. She feared for herself, for she was slowly beginning to believe that it was not mere suspect and fear that lied behind Charles' words, especially not after what had happened in the garden. What would this sudden turn of event mean for her? Would it have any signification? What did she think about it? She hoped...
Henry, with his dangerously sweet words and his manner towards her that was more than worthy of suspect, was easier to avoid as she had suspected. Whether he was avoiding her as well, as Charles and Anne were ignoring each other, she had no idea. However, she could not complain and neither could she spend too much time thinking about it, she could care less as long as it left her at peace. Besides, it was in order for her to sort her things out, before the next storm came crashing down.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the door.
"You may enter," she claimed and straightened her back. Anne was standing impatiently patient, while she heard the creaking door that signalized the entrance of whoever it might be.
"Milady," the woman in front of her curtsied, when she raised her head, of course after having received the approval of Anne, the Marquess noted a certain spark in the woman's feature that reminded her of something.
"Tell me, child, what is the reason that you made you come here?" Anne asked.
"I was sent by the Queen," she replied.
"The Queen?"
"I am one of he ladies-in-waiting," she explained further.
"You look very unusual in comparison to the rest of the other ladies," Anne remarked. Although this woman was acting demure and shy in front of her, her gut feeling told her that there was more than that to the servant girl. She may bow down to her, show her the respect that was due to her status, but the way she did it was different from the rest of her companion girls, although Anne was not sure how ti pinpoint this aspect. She just felt that this girl was not as innocent, demure and boring as the other ladies.
But what really set her aside from the group of ladies in waiting, was her appearance. She was not a typical Tudor rose. She did not have that fair complexion, like her mistress, but neither did she possess the dark skin of Anne's. Her hair was a dark color, not as dark as Anne's but surely in no way comparable to the Queen. Her facial expression was deeper, more edges and more defined. Again, differing from the innocent look of Jane.
"I was not chosen directly from the Queen. It was the King, who had granted me a position among her Queen's confidantes."
Those few words sent Anne's mind into alarm.
"Really..." Anne glanced at the woman, leaving her squirming under her gaze. "Tell me, child, what is your name again?"
"My name is Anne Bassett, milady." Of course, just as Anne had predicted.
Her gaze turned more intensive than it had already been before and Anne was now openly examining her. She was aware of the effect she had on her namesake and she enjoyed it. She knew exactly, who this woman in front of her was. Anne Bassett was rumored, although mildly until now, to be the new mistress of the King. Of course, he was keeping it pretty discreet, more discreet than he had been with Katherine, but not putting as much effort as he had with Anne herself. If it had not been for her sharp and not to say curious mind, she did not know whether she would have known. It was merely her eyes, the boring brown color that resembled Jane.
She wondered what meant more, her eyes or the rest of her appearance.
"Now tell me, why are you here?"
"I received the letter from the Queen. She told me to give this to you." With that she held her hands out, a letter held on them. She knew the seal that embroidered the letter. Quickly, she snatched it away from her hands. Without sparing any glance towards the maid, Anne tore it open. Indeed, it was a letter from her daughter, a reply to the one she had sent a few days ago. She was glad for the parchment, however she imagined that she would have been over-joyous, more than she was right now, for her joy was dimmed by the presence of the maid, the mistress of her former husband and the lady-in-waiting to the woman who had replaced her. The very same woman, who had intercepted her letter, something she had no right to.
"Was your mistress the one, who had had this letter?"
"I do-"
"Was she the one, who tore the seal down?!" She winced at Anne's tone, shrinking visibly.
"I-" Poor girl, in loss of her words and thrown in such a panic that she was not able to reply properly. This furthering her inability to do anything at all. Despite the haze of anger before her eyes, Anne was enough in the right state of mind to know that it was fruitless. Frustrated, she shouted at the girl to leave. With scornful eyes she watched the woman scramble her skirt and hurry off to the door. Even with closed doors, she could perceive the hurrying and frantic steps.
Inside of the room however, everything was perfectly still. The only sound that may be able to be heard was the crunching of the paper, as Anne slowly clenching her hands into fists. But as slow as her hands moved, the faster she ran out of the room, leaving nothing but a loud bang of the door as she threw it open, thus causing eerie and lonely silence to die out.
Anne had to admit later on that this sight had not surprised her. Why should it? Wine, women and a waste of time. What else would Henry use as a matter to pass his time?
"I need to talk to you," she merely hissed with a seething voice, the background lit with the sound of the door slamming. Anne marched towards the table, leaving barely time for most of the people to greet her as decorum demanded. "What is the meaning of this?" Anne slammed the letter on the table.
By now, most of the people had stood up from their seats, whether out of courtesy towards the Marquess or because of their mood was varying from each. Even the maid, who had been sitting on his lap, was no difference. Only Henry remained quiet. His gaze was directed towards the Marquess, his eyes not betraying his emotions and when their gazes met each other, the mood suddenly became ten degrees chiller and even more tense.
"What," she hissed slowly through her teeths, accentuating each word "is the meaning of this?"
Their eyes never left each other, Henry did not even look at the letter she had thrown on his desk among his card play.
"Marquess, I believe it is utmost in-"
"Get lost, Cromwell! This is a matter between me and Henry!" she shouted.
"Pardon me, Marquess, but-" he countered with an irritated voice.
"Leave, Cromwell." The calmness caused quite a surprise not only for Cromwell, but for his company as well. "You can all leave as well." But they were even more surprised at those following words.
"Your Majesty-"
"It was an order!"
With that each of the courtiers understood and obeyed his dismissal.
"I see..." Cromwell bowed although reluctantly and left. His exit was followed by the other courtiers, some of them throwing a curious and some a more of a murderous glare.
Anne did not need to look up to know that they had finally left, their steps and the sound of the closing door was enough to confirm it. She was far too occupied with bearding his look, even if she was not quite sure what his intention was. They were emotionless and usually, she would have assumed that he was angry and feeling insulted by her stunt. However, if so, then he would not have dismissed the gentlemen from the room. After all, it would be so much more time to humiliate her in front of them all. For a fact she knew that this was one of his favorite ways to bless the people who had graced his wrath. Plus, his eyes were unusually calm.
"Well, now that we are alone, will you finally give me a proper answer? And by the way you can also explain why the heck you had dismissed everyone. Surely, if you had just wanted to shout at me, you could have done it in front of them. After all, we all know how much you love to do that, no?"
"Very funny, Anne." Henry leaned back, his eyes never leaving hers. A smirk graced his face, irritating Anne even more. "So, why do you not tell me the reason you are so upset. Apparently upset enough to overlook decency that you always humble yourself with so much?"
"This letter," she took a hold of the said document and threw it at his chest this time. "It was opened before I got it!"
"And what especially is your problem?"
"This was a letter between me and my daughter," she whispered deadly. "It was for me and her and no one else. So explain me, for what reason in the world had your wife the right to open and read it without my consent?"
"It was not Jane."
"It was her maid, who delivered her. Maybe I shall call her by her name, Anne Bassett, you remember, do you not?"
"I do," Henry replied with a matter of fact voice. "However, it does not change my answer. It was not Jane, who had intercepted the letter." Henry sat up straight, his chin resting on his folded hands, while his elbows were on the table. He watched Anne with an expectant look.
"No, it was you," Anne realized. She had no actual clue, but his eyes were enough to confirm it. "But the question is, why did you do that?!" Anne chuckled darkly, her hands now placed on the table as well. She leaned forwards. An act of defiance, Henry noted, especially with those blazing eyes as they dared him.
He did not move from his position, but he kept his answer to him for a few more minutes, enjoying the sight in front of him. It was a chance to examine her every feature from the vicinity, in a way that would not have been possible if she was still aware of her intention to keep her distance from him.
"What is your answer?"
"Perhaps you might believe and maybe you are right when you claim that Jane had no right to do so. But I, on the contrary, had every right." Henry shrugged his shoulders.
"Since when did you care about her?"
"I always cared for her," Henry defended. Anne wanted to scoff at his answer. And he knew that. "After all, I am her father."
"So what if you are her father?" She narrowed her eyes, leaning even more forward than she already did. "She did not write this letter to you, but me! Whatever she wrote was not meant for you?"
"But Charles was?"
"What?!" Oh, now he was talking nonsense, out of the context.
I miss you and Charles.
"I miss you and Charles?" He mimicked her words, almost in a mocking voice that Anne did not approve.
"Do not talk like that, when talking about or of my daughter!" She then warned him. "Besides, so what if she does? I see no wrong in this."
"No wrong?" Henry slammed his hands on the table and perhaps if Anne had cared to pay attention or if she had been anyone else, who would have cared about the King's wrath, thus watched his hand hit the wood, then she might have noticed how the cards had sprang, just a little bit, from their ground.
"No wrong?!" Henry repeated his words a second time, louder than before, but Anne could even barely make herself care, except for rolling her eyes at, in her regard, immature antics.
"Just say what you do not agree with at this point."
"Why don't you explain, why I seem to have lesser rights than Charles? As her father?"
"What? Henry, say that in clear sentences! People with a reasonable mind like me do not understand someone with heads like yours," or rather the lack of...
"Why had she even mentioned him? Why does she say that she misses him? I am her father!"
"For God's sake, Henry!" Anne took a goblet from the table, half empty, and threw it against the wall. The content flew, similar to the drinking vessel, across the room and just like the many splinters that resulted from the clash with the stoned wall, it was spread all over the room. "Do not dare to play the loving father now! Because you are not!"
"I am her father! Not Charles." He was seething by now. "It should be me she mentioned in her letter."
"What do you want!? What do you expect?" Anne threw her arms in the air. "Aside from Da- the other male servants, Charles is the only fatherly figure she can and might ever come close to! Of course she would bond with him."
"No! She would not have, had it not been you." He pointed with accusing fingers at her and Anne wanted to go up and strangle him, threw another goblet at his head, slap him or-
She crossed her arms over her chest, pressing them dearly near to her, in an attempt to restrain her body.
"Why is Charles the one she is so close with? Because he is always there? He is always there, because of you."
"Are you saying now that it my fault now?"
"If it was not for your friendship," her skin tingled, when he spat the word describing Charles and her relationship, "she would never come to the thought to bond with him!"
"What is even wrong with her relationship with Charles? At least she has a male figure in her life she can learn to depend on! After all, you do are not doing that good of a job in this aspect, or maybe just not for her," Anne whispered the last part.
"It is unnatural." Strangely, he had not even objected to her argument.
"So what?" Somehow, this thought had just struck her in the spark of the moment, just when Henry had barely uttered the end of his sentence. "When I had to leave Elizabeth in the care of some maid that I barely knew, knowing that I will never get to raise her, watch her grow and be at every step in her life and serve as her guidance... knowing that I am leaving my motherly duties up to some woman I had to chose from a list, do you think that this is 'natural'?"
Apparently, this argument was convincing enough that Henry had nothing to say in that matter anymore. Just like him, Anne knew she had nothing to say anymore. Neither of them did.
"You know what? This is not getting more and more pointless and even more stupid I might dare to imagine. Just refrain from meddling in my relationship."
"Charles is not good enough."
"I meant with Elizabeth."
"I meant with her as well."
Anne was not sure whether she wanted to hear this. For Elizabeth's sake that is, of course.
"I am taking my leave now."
"That is up to her," she whispered.
When she closed the door, she found herself in the hall again. It was long, dark and silent. The silence reminded her of the scene that had barely passed, when Henry had nothing to say to her anymore and neither did she. Her back met the door. She leaned back, hoping that the barrier would serve as a thread she might hang on to, while closing her eyes.
She had not noticed until now, how exhausting their conversation had been, how much it was draining her soul and how his presence was damaging her spirit, until they were silent. She was out of breath. She could barely breathe and she felt so damn tired.
Anne took a deep breath, one hand pushing her hair away from her face, hoping to get a clearer view, even if she had and probably will never see things clearer than how they were now. The other hand went to her stomach, the part where the corsage that was demanded by the rules of the court, was constraining her. Her lungs and everything that she needed to breathe, to live, was imprisoned, leaving her barely hanging on.