Welcome to new reviewers Charms26, AislinnNicole1, Retrodelic, sara, Emberlynn, martine, MCross, BabyVamp, LauryLover and Essence-Chan. Lovely to see so many new faces!
With regard to the theft of "On The Edge Of A Golden World", I have some good news. While the person who decided to swipe it and claim credit for it has yet to contact me with either an explanation or an apology (frankly, I'm not going to hold my breath on that count) the moderators at Quizilla have removed the story from their site.
I'd like to thank everybody who sent me PMs and reviews in support, and those who complained on Quizilla. It was so encouraging to see everybody rally around like that. Thank you.
Chapter Eleven
4th June 1536
It was disconcerting, to say the least, to know that some of the members of his own Council looked upon him with disfavour.
Henry had appointed both Thomas and George Boleyn to his Privy Council years ago, when he was so deeply in love with Anne and so determined to put her kin on his council, knowing that they would willingly help him achieve the annulment he desired, and he couldn't tell them that he no longer wished for them to serve in that capacity, not now. To do so would draw public condemnation on his head for punishing Anne's relatives, despite the fact that she and they were innocent of all the charges laid against them. He had asked Norris to serve on his Privy Council yesterday and regretted the decision almost as soon as he had asked the question. Norris would not meet his eye as he sat at the table but Thomas Boleyn met his eyes squarely, though without the slightest glimmer of warmth in his eyes.
He was glad that he had asked Knivert to join the Privy Council in Edward Seymour's place so that he could have a friend at the table who would act in his interests. He knew that Brandon would vow that he was a loyal friend, devoted to Henry's interests above all others, but the sombre expression on his face made it clear that he was not happy to be sitting at the table with the two Boleyn men, and his slight wince when Audley raised the subject of Cromwell's trial, asking Henry whether he was agreeable to the former chancellor being tried this month.
"Is it necessary to have the trial so soon, Your Majesty?" Brandon spoke up, although he knew that he could draw Henry's anger on his own head by doing so. He knew, as they all did, that the anger towards Cromwell over what had happened with Anne was still running high. The people wanted to see him made to pay the price for what he had done and his judges would be anxious to set the issue to rest as soon as they possibly could, to divert as much of the public anger about Anne's situation onto Cromwell's head and away from Henry's.
What hope did Cromwell have of a fair trial if most of the English people would love nothing more than to see him brought to the scaffold?
Brandon might not condone what the other man had tried to do but he had done it in England's interests, and because he sought to please Henry. Had he succeeded, Jane Seymour would be Queen of England now, and the Lady Mary would be returning to court with honour, welcomed as Henry's daughter, instead of in disgrace, and Brandon deeply regretted that this was not to be.
If there was any possibility that Cromwell could be shown some mercy, for the sake of his past service, Brandon hoped that it would be done.
"I think that it is, Your Grace." Henry said coldly, frowning reprovingly at him. "Justice must be seen to be done, and there is no sense in waiting. Master Cromwell slandered the name of our dear and entirely beloved wife, Queen Anne, and sought to bring about her death, and the deaths of good, loyal Englishmen." He nodded in George's direction at this but there was no answering smile or nod. "He must be made to pay the price for his crimes, before the people."
"I agree, Your Majesty." Boleyn said firmly, nodding his approval and casting a malicious glance in Brandon's direction. "And I am surprised to hear my Lord of Suffolk suggest otherwise."
"I didn't mean that…" Brandon began to protest but Henry waved for him to be silent, frowning at him, so he subsided, inwardly praying that Henry would not take him to task for his words later.
"Master Cromwell will be tried for high treason, and Lady Rochford for perjury, before the end of the month." Henry directed. "You will see to the arrangements, Sir Thomas." He instructed Audley, who inclined his head in response to the order, immediately scribbling a few notes about what would be involved in arranging the trials. "There is also another matter, one of great personal concern to us," Henry continued. "Our beloved daughter, the Princess Elizabeth – we are aware that there are still some foolish, wrong-minded people who persist in slandering the Princess as illegitimate, and who wish to see the bastard Mary proclaimed heir to the throne in her place."
None of the men at the table dared to argue with that. While it was undeniable that Anne's popularity had soared since her release, something that was making more and more people willing to accept her child as the legitimate heir to the throne, Mary still had her supporters, people who had never accepted the assertions that the young girl they had looked on as a princess for years and accepted as the heir to the throne was now nothing more than a bastard, with no more right to succeed to the throne than her young half-brother, Henry Fitzroy had had – if not less, since she was not a boy. There were many who would welcome the idea of Mary being restored as heiress presumptive, and who were reluctant to accept little Elizabeth in her place.
Brandon would have liked to believe that his friend, out of love for his eldest daughter and out of a desire for peace in the land, meant to have Parliament pass an Act restoring Mary to the succession but he knew better than to think that this was what Henry had in mind. He had made his position plain when he ordered Mary to come to Whitehall as Elizabeth's servant, and when he announced that he would not even be willing to see his daughter until she took the Oath of Succession and declared herself to be a bastard.
He would not willingly go back on what he had said by restoring Mary.
Henry glanced in Knivert's direction before he elaborated on his plan, smiling slightly at his friend, who had been able to see what he could not and to recognize that Anne needed to see tangible proof of his intention to see to it that she had no cause to feel concerned about their child's position. "It is our wish to bestow a title on Princess Elizabeth, to ensure that it is plain to every man, woman and child in England that she is our lawful heir." He announced, feeling pleased when he saw the surprise on Boleyn's face at his words. If Anne's father had not expected him to make this move, then he wouldn't have suggested the possibility to his daughter, so it would come as a very pleasant and welcome surprise for Anne to see what he wished to do for Elizabeth.
"What title does Your Majesty wish to bestow on the Princess?" Norfolk asked.
"Duchess of York." Henry answered, thinking it a very fitting choice.
He had not been much older that Elizabeth when his father bestowed the title of Duke of York on him, in response to the support that the pretender Perkin Warbeck was gathering in support of his claim that he was Prince Richard, the young Duke of York thought to be murdered in the Tower. Henry the Seventh was determined that the only Duke of York would be his son and so Henry, though he was only a little boy of three at the time, was carefully coached in protocol so that he could take part in the ceremony bestowing the title on him.
He liked the idea that the title would be Elizabeth's now.
To his surprise, he heard George Boleyn let out a derisive snort at his response. "My Lord Rochford?" Although he was annoyed, Henry's tone was one of enquiry rather than censure.
"What good is that going to do?" George asked bluntly, not troubling to frame his question more diplomatically out of deference to his brother-in-law's standing as King. "Duchess of York would be all well and good under other circumstances, but there was a time when the Lady Mary was called the Princess of Wales – and she still claims that title, even though she's been exposed as a bastard, and I'd lay odds that she has supporters who believe that this is her true title. If you give Princess Elizabeth the title of Duchess of York, Madam Mary and her supporters will be quick to point out that this is the secondary title, and to claim that Mary is still the Princess of Wales and therefore the first in line to the throne."
"Lord Rochford has a point, Your Majesty." Knivert observed quietly.
"Yes." Henry had not thought of that. He knew that Mary was a bastard, and he had taken steps to ensure that this would be made clear to his daughter and to everybody else in England but it was undeniable that the girl was stubborn, clinging to her former title rather than owning the truth, that she had no right to it, and that she had supporters who would champion her false claim. George was right that Mary and her supporters would consider Elizabeth being invested with the title of Duchess of York when Mary was given the title of Princess of Wales to be tantamount to an admission that he regarded Elizabeth as being second to her sister, though nothing could be further from the truth… but how could he prove them wrong, except by bestowing the title of Princess of Wales on little Elizabeth?
He didn't want to do that.
He loved Elizabeth very much and he wanted it to be clear to everybody that she was the heir to the throne but if he gave her the title of Princess of Wales, he would be saying that he didn't expect her to ever have a brother, one who would be Prince of Wales and the first rightful heir to the throne, ahead of his sister. He and Anne were both young, young enough to have other children once they were reconciled and resumed normal marital relations, so how could he give up the hope that there would be a son one day?
In five or six years time, if Elizabeth was still his only legitimate child, he knew that she would have to be granted the title of Princess of Wales, to highlight the fact that she would be England's next Queen, but surely it was too soon for him to give up hope of a prince.
If Duchess of York would not suffice in order to secure Elizabeth's status in the eyes of the world and to prove to Anne that he viewed their daughter as his heir, and if he could not give his little girl the title of Princess of Wales, at least not yet, what could he do?
"If I may, Your Majesty," Boleyn spoke up in a calm, even tone. Henry nodded to indicate that he wanted to hear whatever it was he had to say. "In my view, while it would certainly be an indication of Your Majesty's love and esteem for the Princess Elizabeth if she was granted the title of Duchess of York, perhaps a further measure is in order."
"What do you mean, my lord?" Henry asked curiously.
"By law, the eldest son – the eldest legitimate son – of the King is entitled to the title of Duke of Cornwall, and by tradition, to the title of Prince of Wales," Boleyn began smoothly, "but there is no particular title that is reserved for the King's eldest legitimate daughter. Perhaps there ought to be such a title. Perhaps, in addition to the title of Duchess of York, a new title should also be devised; one for the eldest princess, and that title should be given to Princess Elizabeth as its first holder. In that way, even if the Lady Mary and her supporters attempt to claim that Duchess of York is a secondary title compared to the title of Princess of Wales, Your Majesty will be able to counter those allegations by pointing to the other title, showing that the Princess Elizabeth is your only trueborn daughter."
Brandon had always known that Thomas Boleyn was a shrewd, clever man but now he was seeing proof of that. His suggestion was a brilliant one; while there could still be debate over little Elizabeth's status if she was granted the title of Duchess of York – he imagined that even the Lady Mary would be willing to accept Elizabeth's right to that title, as the King had the right to make anybody a peer, whether they were legitimate or not – creating a title to be reserved for the exclusive use of the King's eldest legitimate daughter would eliminate those doubts.
Anybody who referred to Elizabeth by that title, whatever it might be, would essentially be agreeing that she was legitimate and that Mary was therefore a bastard, which was exactly what Boleyn wanted to ensure. Given Anne's newfound popularity, if she was able to keep the love of the people and to continue to encourage them to love little Elizabeth as well, the people would gradually come to look to Elizabeth as the true, rightful heir, while Mary would be nothing.
The support of the people was the chief consolation Mary had left and Boleyn wanted to see that taken away from her.
Brandon hoped that Henry would say that this was not necessary, that the title of Duchess of York was already a great honour for Elizabeth, especially given her tender age and her sex, and that she did not need another one but instead he saw Henry nodding his head, indicating that he approved of Boleyn's suggestion wholeheartedly, and looking around at his councillors for ideas about the form that the proposed new title should take.
"What do you suggest?"
Elizabeth was not a careless child, by any means, but she was still a young child and a very active one and, like many young children, she occasionally tore her clothes. However, given the size of the pile of mending in the basket at her side, Mary wondered if Lady Bryan was deliberately tearing rents in Elizabeth's little gowns and petticoats, and poking holes in the tiny silk stockings in order to ensure that Mary would have plenty of work to keep her occupied for the week when mending was to be her sole responsibility, and to be certain that she would feel the full effects of the punishment she had decreed for her.
She wouldn't put it past the governess to do something like that, and even though Anne was showering Elizabeth with so many new gowns that she would be plentifully supplied even if the garments in Mary's workbasket were thrown or given away, nothing less than perfect work would satisfy Lady Bryan's exacting standards.
She had already ordered one of Mary's neat repairs to be unpicked and redone, claiming that the work was sloppy and unsatisfactory, particularly for a princess' gown, despite the fact that Mary could see now flaw in her work, which was as careful as ever. She had not argued with Lady Bryan however, both because she knew that it would do no good if she did and because she didn't want the woman to know how irksome she was finding the punishment she was given.
If Lady Bryan knew, this would be the penalty she would choose every time Mary did something to displease her from now on and Mary did not want her to have the satisfaction of knowing that she had managed to find a weakness, as she would surely exploit it to the fullest extent if she discovered a chink in Mary's armour.
Her needle flew through the silken gown, mending the tear with tiny, near invisible stitches and Mary was so occupied with her task that it was a few moments before she realized that she was being watched by a pair of curious blue eyes.
Little Annie Stafford was looking up at her, her index finger in her mouth. "Who you?" She asked innocently, giving Mary a dimpled smile.
The toddler's likeness to her aunt was remarkable and, as a result, Mary's voice was somewhat cool as she addressed Anne's miniature and namesake. "I am Princess Mary." She said firmly.
Annie regarded her curiously for a moment before shaking her head, her black curls bouncing. "No." She stated positively, turning a little to point to Elizabeth. "P'incess." She said gravely.
Had the issue not been such a crucial one, an issue for which Mary had stood against her father for years, for which her mother had lived in poverty and isolation rather than yielding and winning herself a life of comfort and honour in exchange for her cooperation in denying her daughter's birthright, and for which good people had died, Mary might have smiled at the toddler's earnestness but the issue was a crucial one, with serious implications.
Annie Stafford was one of countless young children in England who were being taught that Elizabeth was a princess and Mary was a bastard, children who would be taught that Anne Boleyn was the rightful Queen of England while Katherine of Aragon – if she was mentioned to them at all – was nothing more than the woman who had lived in sin with her husband's brother for years before the "truth" was discovered.
In twenty years, those children would have reached adulthood and started families of their own and, unless their parents were especially brave, willing to take the risk of teaching their children the truth so that they did not grow up with the mistaken belief that her father's marriage to Anne was valid, they wouldn't know any better than to think that Elizabeth was the rightful heir to the throne, and they would support her and teach their own children to do so.
In twenty years time, Mary would be closer to forty than to thirty, almost past the age of bearing children, if it wasn't already too late for her. Her father would arrange no marriage for her as long as she continued to defy his demands that she proclaim herself to be a bastard and, even if she yielded to his will, the suitor he chose for her would be an ordinary gentleman, one who would never be acceptable to the people as King Consort, further cementing her sister's support.
In contrast, Elizabeth would be in her prime, a lovely young woman, wife to a prince, if her father was able to find a monarch who was willing to allow his son to be wed to a bride of such questionable legitimacy, and perhaps a mother by now – a much more attractive candidate as heiress to the throne than Mary would be.
If her father lived another twenty years, or even fifteen, he would almost certainly be able to secure the throne for Elizabeth. If he lived another ten years, there was still a good chance that he would have built up enough support for her among the people to allow him to bypass his true, legitimate daughter in favour of his bastard by his Concubine, especially if Anne continued to be popular and well-liked by the people, buying their love with her charitable distributions.
It was wicked of her to think such things, and treasonous to imagine her father's death, but Mary couldn't help but think about what would happen to her if her father lived to old age.
If Chapuys had heard her thoughts, Mary was sure that he would tell her that she need have no fears on that count, that even if the people could be duped into accepting Elizabeth as heir, the Emperor could commit his armies to conquering the country on her behalf and placing her on the throne, as was her right... but Mary couldn't bring herself to believe that he would keep this promise, even if she was prepared to allow him to wage war on her behalf, at the cost of countless lives. He certainly had never interceded on her mother's behalf in that manner, even when the way she was treated was putting her health at risk, and as soon as she was dead, he had made overtures to Mary's father, declaring himself willing to support his marriage to Anne.
Mary could not count on the Emperor.
If she wished to safeguard her rightful inheritance, it was up to her to do it. Nobody else was going to intercede to do it for her.
She met Annie Stafford's eyes, setting aside her needlework for a moment so that she could give the toddler her full attention. She touched her chest lightly, so that Annie could have no doubt about who she was speaking of. "Princess Mary." She stated firmly, though she kept her voice low, so that the other ladies of Elizabeth's household would not be able to hear her. She pointed to Elizabeth, who was having her hair combed by Lady Bryan. "Lady Elizabeth." She told Annie in a soft but authoritative voice. "Not Princess. Lady Elizabeth."
Annie looked puzzled for a moment, as she tried to work out what Mary was saying but then she shook her head vehemently. "No." She said, her voice ever bit as firm as Mary's. She pointed at Elizabeth. "P'incess." The tiny finger then jabbed in Mary's direction. "No P'incess."
"What is going on over here?" Lady Bryan asked, hearing Annie and hurrying over to the toddler's side, taking one of Annie's little hands in hers. "What are you doing, Lady Mary? I doubt that you have finished all of your mending already, and if you have, I am sure that other tasks can be found for you. I have told you before that you will not be allowed to be idle here."
"I have quite enough to do, thank you, Lady Bryan." Mary replied coldly, wishing that she could slap the hateful woman. Had her mother been alive, she would have counselled her to have patience and to obey her father and those in whose charge he placed her in all things not touching her conscience but her mother had never had to deal with Lady Bryan.
Annie tugged on Lady Bryan's skirts to get her attention, and then she pointed at Mary. "No P'incess." She said, though her tone was a little less certain this time.
Lady Bryan's expression became very grim when she realized what Annie was talking about and she frowned darkly in Mary's direction before responding to the child. "No, my dear, you are right – she is no Princess." She told Annie, patting the dark curls. "That's just the Lady Mary, and you're a clever girl to know when she is telling you wicked fibs." She praised Annie before turning to scowl at Mary. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, girl, confusing a little child like that with your lies." She scolded, motioning for another of the ladies to usher Annie away, as though being in such close proximity to Mary might contaminate the toddler. "You can be certain that His Majesty will hear of this." She warned before she swept away.
Mary tried not to feel apprehensive at the threat. She reminded herself that her father was no fool, and that he must surely know by now that she would not tamely accept being deprived of her rights. He was also a man who could appreciate spirit and courage... though not necessarily when they were being employed against him. She felt worried about how her father would react when her show of defiance was reported to him, as it undoubtedly would be – Lady Bryan would waste no opportunity to make trouble for her, in order to make it plain what her new status would be.
Surely he would not seek to make her position worse... or would he?
Being Elizabeth's maid-in-waiting was bad enough but Mary wondered if her father might be capable of deciding that this position was not degrading enough to break her rebellion and that he might decide to put her to work elsewhere in the palace, relegating her to the role of a lowborn drudge instead of the comparatively honoured position of maid-in-waiting.
If he did that, would she be able to hold firm and continue to refuse to lie?
She sewed in silence for a few moments before Elizabeth's excited voice intruded on her thoughts.
"When is my Mama coming?" She asked Lady Bryan, bouncing in excitement at the thought of a visit from Anne. "I want to see her."
"Soon, Your Highness." Lady Bryan promised, before glancing at Mary with a disapproving sniff, wondering whether it would be better for her to order the girl to leave the nursery and to continue her sewing in the chamber she shared with the other maids.
She didn't want to have Mary there if Queen Anne was going to take offence at her presence, or if Mary was going to behave rudely but, at the same time, she wad certain that Mary would love nothing more than to be able to escape the nursery and her supervision for a while. She certainly doubted that any work would be done if Lady Mary was left unsupervised. However, before she could make her decision and issue her orders to Mary, she heard the sound of approaching footsteps and the cries to make way for the Queen and the decision was taken out of her hands.
Anne was in the room a moment later and Elizabeth dashed into her arms, giggling in delight as she was swung around. "Hello, my precious, darling girl." Anne greeted, kissing Elizabeth over and over again, hugging her close. "How are you?"
"Well." Elizabeth told her, wrapping her arms around her neck and hugging her tightly. "I'm glad to see you. Very glad."
"So am I, sweetheart."
Mary felt a lump in her throat as she watched the two together, remembering how her own mother had once held her in her arms and showered her with the same affection that Anne was now lavishing on Elizabeth. When Anne played with Elizabeth, did she ever allow herself to think about another mother and daughter, a woman and a girl who loved one another deeply but who were forced apart for the sake of Anne's ruthless ambition? Did Anne ever feel remorseful about the fact that she had kept them apart for so many years, not even allowing a death bed visit? Did she ever think about how easily she and Elizabeth might have been the ones parted forever, as looked likely to be the case when Anne was arrested?
She had heard the rumours about Anne being a witch and part of her was sure that they were through. When Anne's gaze fell upon her, she felt as though the woman could hear her thoughts and she instinctively lifted her hand, ready to make the sign of the Cross, but let it fall.
Anne's expression was not unkind as she looked at Mary. "Good morning, Lady Mary." She greeted her calmly, the slightest hint of warmth to her tone.
"Good morning, my lady." As Anne had addressed her directly, Mary had no choice to reply but she deliberately refrained from addressing the woman by the title of Majesty, to which she had no true right. Mary's father had chosen to bestow the title of Marquess of Pembroke on Anne, as was his right if he so chose, so Mary would willingly observe the courtesies due to that rank but she knew that Anne was not so foolish that she wouldn't recognize the significance of her choice of title.
To her surprise, instead of correcting her and demanding to be addressed as one would address a Queen, Anne didn't quibble over Mary's choice of a title for her but that didn't surprise Mary as much as the glimmer of sympathy that softened Anne's eyes as she looked at her for a few more moments, looking as though she wanted to say something more but decided against it, returning her attention to little Elizabeth, who was clamouring for her mother to tell her a story, with Annie eagerly seconding her cousin's request.
Anne was sitting on a couch near the fire, with Elizabeth sitting on her lap and Annie nestled close to her, telling the two little girls a story about King Arthur, when Henry entered the room.
He acknowledged the greetings and curtsies of Lady Bryan and the other maids-in-waiting with a quick smile but he avoided even glancing in Mary's direction, determined to stick to his resolve not to acknowledge her or to single her out for any attention until she proved willing to give up her obstinate rebellion and behave like a good, dutiful daughter ought to.
He crossed the room to Anne's side, swinging Elizabeth up to kiss her and patting Annie's head before he bent down to kiss Anne's cheek. From her chair, Mary noticed that, although Anne did not pull away from the kiss or vocalize an objection, she flinched almost imperceptibly when Henry's lips touched her cheek, as though the kiss was a blow rather than a caress.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your story, sweetheart," Henry apologized, giving Elizabeth a smile. "It sounds as though it's a very exciting one."
"It is." Elizabeth confirmed, beaming at her mother. Mama told the nicest stories!
"I need to borrow your Mama for a little while, to talk about something important – it's about Elizabeth." He told Anne, before she could refuse to accompany him. She might not be eager to speak to him, by any means, but he knew that if what he had to say concerned their child, she would want to hear it.
"I want to hear!" Elizabeth piped up at once, curious to know what her Papa wanted to say to her Mama. "Tell me too, Papa!"
Henry hesitated. He would have preferred to get Anne alone so that he could tell her the news privately but when Elizabeth made a request, he found it difficult to refuse her anything she asked of him. As well as that, he could sense Mary's eyes on him, following his movements and he could imagine the mournful look on the girl's face as she watched him, just as he could imagine that she was saying a silent prayer that he would turn around and acknowledge her in some way.
If she wanted to be acknowledged, she knew what she had to do.
He had made the mistake of being soft with the girl before, when he left Hatfield after a visit with his darling Elizabeth and saw his elder daughter standing on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, her eyes dark with sorrow and pleading with him to show her some sign that he recognized her and cared for her.
When he travelled to Hatfield, he had had no intention of visiting Mary and acknowledging her; she had been sent to wait on Elizabeth so that she would learn her place and it was important that it was made clear to her that, until she learned that place, she could not hope for her royal father's love and affection. However, seeing her there, he was unable to keep himself from looking up at her and bowing. It was a courteous gesture, one that he might have made to any lady, but because he was the King, the gentlemen in his retinue had hurried to follow his example and pay their respects to Mary, who had clearly taken this slight acknowledgement as a sign that, if she held out long enough, her defiance would be rewarded with his capitulation.
It was past time for her to learn that she was mistaken.
It was past time for her to recognize that, although she was his daughter and although he was willing to acknowledge her as such, she was not a princess. She was a bastard and she had no rights, only whichever favours he chose to bestow upon her, out of his kindness. If she would be his obedient, loving daughter, she would find him to be affectionate and generous towards her but if she insisted on being disobedient and disloyal, she would get nothing from him.
He was half-prepared to instruct Lady Bryan to dismiss Mary from his presence while he spoke with his wife and with his legitimate daughter but he changed his mind.
Perhaps it was best that she should hear this.
He lifted Elizabeth up so that her face was level with his own. "I have a very special surprise for you, my Elizabeth." He told her, smiling indulgently at her unabashed delight at his words.
"What is it?" Elizabeth asked eagerly. If her Papa's voice was any indication, he had a treat ready for her and, although she had been given lots and lots of presents by her Mama already, she would always be eager to accept another one. "Is it a nice surprise?"
"I hope that you'll think so – and you, sweetheart." He added to Anne. He sat down on the couch next to Anne, holding Elizabeth on his lap and reaching out to take Anne's hand in his before she could try to move further away from him. Although his words were ostensibly addressed to Elizabeth, Anne was the one who truly needed to hear them. "I want to show everybody how much I love my lovely, clever little princess, my jewel of all England," he explained to Elizabeth, who beamed at the compliments, "so I've decided that you shall have a new title."
Elizabeth's face fell. "But I like being a princess!" She protested, remembering what she had heard some of her ladies say when Mama was away, about how she might not be allowed to be a princess any more and could be made a bastard instead. "I don't want to be a bastard!"
"Who told you something like that?" Henry demanded angrily. He noticed that Lady Bryan, and several of Elizabeth's other attendants, averted their eyes, clearly unwilling to meet his gaze, and he sighed. He shouldn't be surprised that gossip had spread through the court like a wildfire following Anne's arrest, or that people had wondered about their daughter's status, given the shadow of disgrace hanging over her mother. It was part of the reason why he was so determined to clarify the issue, once and for all. He felt Anne's hand stiffen in his at the word 'bastard' and he swore inwardly. He still had a long way to go with her. "You're not going to be a bastard, sweetheart, you can never be a bastard – you are my trueborn child, the daughter of the Queen." He reassured Elizabeth, who nodded comprehension. "And you will always be a princess. Papa just wants for you to have another title as well, one that will show what a special little girl you are and how much he loves you."
"Oh." Elizabeth thought that sounded nice. She looked across at her Mama to see what she thought about what Papa was saying and she was relieved to see her smile at her. If Mama thought that this was good news, Elizabeth was sure that it was. "What's my new title?"
"When I was a little boy – not much bigger than you are now – my father, your grandfather, decided that I was big enough to have a special title of my own." Henry explained. "He gave me the title of Duke of York, and I want you to have that title now, so you'll be the Duchess of York. It means that you'll have estates of your own, in York, and those estates will give you an income of your very own." He explained. Although he knew better than to think that this part would mean much to Elizabeth, it would reassure Anne that he intended to see to it that their daughter was secure and well-provided for.
He heard a small sound coming from Mary's direction, and he frowned, thinking that it was an indication of pleasure. It seemed that George Boleyn was right when he suggested that Mary might take the fact that he was bestowing the title of Duchess of York on Elizabeth as an indication that she, who pretended to the title of Princess of Wales, outranked her half-sister.
If that was what Mary thought, he intended to disillusion her.
"There's more, my precious." He told Elizabeth, stroking her fair hair. "This was your Grandpapa's idea, and I think that it's a splendid one. If you had a baby brother, he would be called the Prince of Wales to show that he was the oldest son but your Grandpapa reminded me that there should be a special title for the King's eldest daughter – or his eldest legitimate daughter." He added pointedly, knowing that Mary was listening and wanting to make sure that he made his point perfectly clear to her.
"Will I be the Princess of Wales?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes wide at the thought.
"No, sweetheart." Henry answered at once. It would have made his message plain to Mary, so plain that she could harbour no illusions about her status, if he granted Elizabeth the title that he had mistakenly allowed Mary to hold before he knew the truth about his marriage to her mother and about her own legitimacy but he couldn't bring himself to allow Elizabeth to carry the title, not yet. He couldn't give up hope that there would be a son. "But your Grandpapa thought of an even nicer title for you, and it's a very special one. No other Princess of England has ever had this title. You'll be the very first person to have it."
"What is it? Tell me, Papa?"
For a moment, Elizabeth's eagerness reminded Henry of Anne's reaction when he had hinted at a special task that they would have to perform before they left for France, when he was planning on bestowing the title of Marquess of Pembroke on her, in her own right, and he felt a sharp pang of regret for those happier days.
Would they ever again be as happy as they were then?
"You're going to be known as the Princess Royal." He told Elizabeth, smiling for her sake, not wanting to spoil her pleasure at this exciting honour. "And as the Princess Royal, you'll have some more servants, and they'll wear a special livery, to show that they are your servants." At present, as Elizabeth had no livery of her own, the pages and servers who were part of her household wore Henry's livery, but it was fitting that this should change now that the little girl's status as heir to the throne was to be highlighted with her new titles.
"What colour?" At Elizabeth's age, this was a very pressing question.
Henry hesitated. He had not thought through the issue much, wanting to come to the nursery straight away to let Anne and Elizabeth know what he intended to do, and he had not considered the colour of the livery that the future Princess Royal's servants would wear. He masked his uncertainty with a wide smile. "I think that you should choose, sweetheart."
Perhaps leaving the choice in the hands of a toddler not yet three years old was not the wisest decision that he could have made but, when he saw Anne's involuntary smile at his words, he thought that, wise or not, it was the right decision.
"Green." Elizabeth decided, without hesitation. "Green and white. Those are the Tudor colours, aren't they, Mama?"
"They are, sweetheart." Anne agreed. "And they'll look very pretty."
"Good." Elizabeth was pleased and she could see that Lady Bryan and most of her other ladies were pleased too, apart from Lady Mary – but Lady Mary was rarely happy these days, anyway.
"I'll have the designs made right away." Henry promised. He twined a lock of Elizabeth's fair hair around one finger. "And I think that you're going to need a special coronet, don't you?"
"And a new gown – lots of new gowns." Elizabeth added. Now that she was going to be Princess Royal as well as Princess Elizabeth, she was a princess twice over and she thought that it was twice as important for her to be beautifully dressed than it was before. She was a big girl now, and even more special than before.
"You'll have to talk to your Mama about that." Henry told her gravely, although he knew that Anne would probably already be planning the gowns she was going to have made for Elizabeth. He looked up at Anne, addressing her directly. "I think Elizabeth will need something special to wear for the ceremony. We should have it soon, don't you think – as soon as you like."
"Yes." Anne agreed quietly, smiling at Elizabeth when she crawled from Henry's lap to hers, hugging her tightly. She was not unaware of the importance of Henry's decision to bestow further honours on their daughter, nor was she unaware of why he was choosing now to do this. He wished to give her proof of his assertion that he loved their daughter and that he would never do anything to hurt her or to undermine her position as princess and heir.
She was glad that Elizabeth was to be honoured but she couldn't help but think about how Mary would react to her father's declared intention to bestow further titles on Elizabeth, titles that would make it plain that he recognized her as his sole legitimate child while he viewed Mary as a bastard.
Part of Anne wished that Katherine could have gone into a nunnery years ago, when the idea was first broached. If she had, the case for the annulment of her marriage to Henry would have stopped, and Mary would have been allowed to retain her legitimate status. Now, it was impossible to legitimise Mary without putting Elizabeth's position in doubt, and that could not be allowed.
Henry leaned over so that his face was level with Elizabeth's. "Do you think that it would be alright if Mama and I go to talk by ourselves for a little while?" He asked her gravely. "We need to start to make proper arrangements for the ceremony for your new titles."
"Yes." Elizabeth agreed readily enough, excited by the thought of a ceremony that would be just for her, where the whole court could see what a special princess she was. She hopped down from Anne's lap, tugging her hand until Anne stood, waiting expectantly for her to go with Henry.
Had the matter in question not concerned her daughter, Anne wouldn't have gone anywhere with Henry but, since it was for Elizabeth, she allowed him to take her arm and escort her out of the room. He bent down to kiss Elizabeth goodbye before they left, and ruffled little Annie's curls but he swept out of the nursery without glancing in Mary's direction, much less acknowledging her.
It was as if he didn't even see her.
Once they were outside the nursery, Henry paused, inwardly debating over whether he wanted to bring Anne back to her quarters or to his, wondering whether she would be more comfortable if their conversation took place in her rooms or if she would view it as an intrusion if he went there without being invited. His own rooms were closer, and less likely to have many people in them at this time of the day, so that decided the issue for him and he escorted Anne in that direction.
As he had expected, all but one of the grooms who tended to his chamber were absent when he got back to his apartment with Anne in tow. He dismissed the sole remaining groom, instructing him to see to it that they were not disturbed and, once they were alone, conducted Anne over to one of the chairs by the fireplace.
"I thought that we could have the ceremony soon, within a couple of weeks." He said lightly, instinctively thinking that it would be best for him to keep the conversation focused on Elizabeth, at least at first, until Anne was a little more comfortable in his presence. He thought that the ceremony for Elizabeth, and the accompanying public celebrations, would be especially welcome to the people if they took place shortly after Cromwell's trial and execution. It would show the people of England that their King and Queen were putting the whole ugly affair behind them, and moving on with their beautiful child. "Do you think that you would be able to order a gown for Elizabeth by then? I can see to the jewels, I'll have Holbein design them." He added, making a mental note to order jewels for his wife as well as for his daughter, as a surprise for Anne.
"I can have the gown ready in time." Anne confirmed. She already had a design in mind and, once she had sketched the gown and chosen the fabric, it would not take the seamstresses she patronized long to sew and embroider the tiny gown for Elizabeth.
"Good. Good." He repeated, feeling ill at ease around her. it was easy enough, when he was alone or with Knivert, to make plans for what he could do in order to make amends with Anne and to reassure her that he loved her and their daughter and would do nothing to harm them but, when he was face to face with Anne, those plans seemed so inadequate. "Princess Royal and Duchess of York for now," he mused aloud, "and Princess of Wales when she's older... if there's a need."
Anne nodded comprehension but didn't say anything.
Henry felt irritated by her silence. Even if Knivert was right that Anne wanted to see tangible proof of his intentions to secure Elizabeth's place as princess and as his heir, that didn't explain why she persisted in her cold silence when he was showing her that proof. Elizabeth was being honoured in a way that no other English princess was honoured before her – not even Henry's mother, Elizabeth of York had been given the kind of titles and honours that Elizabeth was getting now, even though she was dearly loved by both parents – and Anne was saying nothing!
What did she want from him?
Did she forget that he was her husband and her King, and therefore doubly her master?
He was not an especially patient man, though he was trying, under the circumstances, and Anne seemed to be determined to push his limits as far as she possibly could, even now when he was seeking to reassure her and to honour their daughter.
As Queen of England, it was Anne's duty to bear him a son, and preferably more than one. She was not even trying – she had not asked him to share her bed, as she had before, so how could she possibly expect to give him the son she had promised him all those years ago? Even if she no longer loved him as she once had, a thought that pained Henry more than he cared to admit, he was certain that they both had many ancestors who had married without love, viewing marriage as a sensible arrangement made for the mutual benefit of both parties. Lack of love had not prevented them from bearing thriving families of sons, so why should it keep him and Anne from doing the same?
England needed a prince, whether he was born from love, lust, indifference or even hatred.
"I think I shall come to your bed tonight."
He had not expected that Anne's reaction to the news would be one of joy. He would have loved it if it was, would have loved to see that, despite everything that had happened, she still loved him as she had before and still desired him, but he knew better than to expect to see her show pleasure at his announcement that he intended to assert his rights as her husband.
However, he had not expected her to react as badly as she did.
Anne did not voice an objection – perhaps she had been warned that any attempt on her part to deny him his conjugal rights could be used as grounds to end their marriage, if he so chose – she did not say a word. The colour drained from her face so rapidly that Henry thought that she was about to faint, and he even reached out to steady her, in case she began to fall from the chair. Her skin was cold to his touch and he could feel her trembling slightly, and hear her breathing becoming shallow and rapid. Her blue eyes were wide with fear.
He thought that, if he had announced that he intended to give her the beating Thomas Wriothesly had advocated or even if he declared that it was his intention to have her conducted back to the Tower to be beheaded then and there, she could not have looked more panicked.
Far from being something to be desired, the idea of sharing a bed with him filled her with terror.
How could he have done this to her?
"No," He said, more gently this time. "I will sleep in my own rooms tonight. We should wait." He moved his hand away from her, backing away a couple of paces to give her some space. She got her breathing and her trembling under control fairly quickly once she knew that she did not need to expect him to pay a visit to her bed tonight but she was still too pale for his liking. He moved across to one of the side tables, where a carafe of wine and several goblets were laid out, filling two goblets and carrying them over, passing one to Anne. "Drink that." He instructed briskly.
He probably should have apologized, he probably should have vowed that he would not seek to share her bed unless she first sought him out to invite her to but his tongue would not speak the words. The part of him that deeply regretted the terror that Anne must have endured while she was a prisoner in the Tower was in conflict with the part of him that maintained that he should not be blamed for the fact that he had trusted Cromwell, and that he had acted as any King in his position should act when he was told that his wife had committed adultery, just as the part of him that was appalled that he had distressed Anne with his announcement warred with the idea that, as Anne's husband, it was his right to share her bed if he wished to do so.
After everything that had happened, there was really only one safe topic for them to discuss, one issue that concerned them both deeply and one bond that they still shared.
Henry raised his goblet a little in salute, trying to smile. "To our daughter." He toasted half-heartedly. "To Princess Elizabeth, Princess Royal and Duchess of York." He did not expect to hear Anne respond but he was pleasantly surprised when she echoed his toast in a soft voice.
"To Elizabeth."
For now, it had to be enough for him.
TBC.
Author's Note: Firstly, yes, Henry was an insensitive git to even think of suggesting visiting Anne's bed at this point. Unfortunately, it's the sixteenth century and he's not exactly a sensitive character to begin with. Secondly, I know that the title of Princess Royal didn't actually exist at this point, so I'm changing its origin.
