Chapter 12

Lady Eleanor Brandon

Several days after Queen Katherine's speech at Blackfriars, Cardinal Campeggio made a shock decision – he was revoking the decision upon King Henry's marriage back to Rome. Anne was furious!

Oh, to the King, she was her usual captivating self, smiling her Boleyn smile, dancing the seductive dances she could dance so well, never giving him, or indeed anyone, cause for complaint against her, but in private, she stormed and raged as though there were a tempest inside her that was struggling to get out. George was the only one who could calm her during those long hot days of early summer, so he was always with her – riding out with her, playing cards with her, helping her manage the King, and most of all, openly slandering Wolsey, even in the King's hearing.

Oh yes. Wolsey was falling from His Majesty's grace fast, that much was clear. After all, not only were my family, Anne's family, the family of the woman Henry would do anything to please, against him, but the Brandons were too; the Duke of Suffolk had been heard saying that it was never merry in England when Cardinals surrounded us. Wolsey talked himself out of that one, but the point had been made, and I, Boleyn that I was, capitalised on it, sweet-talking my Henry, my sweetheart, into mentioning to his father that if Wolsey was got rid of, there would be more power for the lords to share around themselves. Of course, most of the power would go to our family, the Howards, but hinting possible power was enough to ensure Charles Brandon was on our side, something Anne commended me for.

Unable, of course, to tell her in public that I only managed it because his son would do anything for me; I merely flushed and whispered "I am glad to serve you, sister, as, in doing so, I serve the Howards."

Anne turned to our cousin Lady Margaret Wyatt, and remarked "Our little Eleanor's grown into a fine courtier, hasn't she?"

"She has, Anne. But then, how could she not, with a sister like you to emulate?" Margaret laughed, and I scowled briefly at her, and at Anne, before making to turn away. I hated it when people treated me like a child. Seeing my face, Anne caught my arm.

"I'm sorry, Eleanor. I never intended to say that. I just said it without thinking, when you answered me so formally."

"It's all right, Anne. We all slip up sometimes. Even you. Just, well, when we're in public, remember that I am your fourteen year old sister, not a little girl."

"I'll try."

Chuckling, Anne let me go, and I hurried away, out into the gardens, where Lord Henry Brandon was waiting for me.

"Eleanor. I thought you would never come!" He pulled me to him, and ran his hand lovingly down my cheek.

"It was hard to slip away – Anne detained me. I'm sorry, darling." I leant up and kissed him by way of apology, before changing the subject. "You are coming on progress with us, aren't you?"

"Yes. I wouldn't miss it for the world. It's the best time of year." Henry lay down in the sun, and I joined him, freeing my hair from the headdress which confined it, and allowing it to spread out over his chest as I leant my head back against him.

"It is, isn't it? And this year, without Queen Katherine around, well, there'll be little decorum..." I tipped my head up engagingly, fixing him with that promising half-smile he loved, and left him to finish what I had begun to say.

"We can do as we please!"

"No. We can't. I'm a Howard girl, Henry. My Uncle sees everything, especially at the moment. He's watching for any scandal that might besmirch Anne's name and risk jeopardising King Henry's courtship of her. It's stifling, honestly. God, I feel like a falcon who's been trapped in a cage and deprived of any proper form of life!" I choked out the last words in a sudden fit of spontaneous anger, sighing bitterly.

"Then what, Eleanor, are you doing here? With me?" Henry half-teased, half-asked, as his hand trailed absently through my shining hair. I giggled girlishly.

"I slipped away for once. I wanted to be myself, without having to watch my every move. I haven't long though. Someone will come looking for me sooner or later, and if I'm caught with you, like this, we'll be in so much disgrace…"My sentence trailed off, and Henry took advantage of my distraction to roll over on top of me, and kiss me light-heartedly, mockingly, enticingly.

"Then what are we going to do? How on earth am I going to make you a respectable young woman again, fit to be sister-in-law to our most gracious sovereign lord? How am I to release you from those strangling jesses of yours? I'm only thirteen myself, you know." he replied, stifled laughter in his voice. I sat up, and pushed him off me, murmuring into his ear "Oh but Henry, my sweet lord, it's quite easy. Just ask me one question, that's all. You know which one."

"I do. Oh Eleanor, I do!" Henry scrambled to his feet, and pulled me up too, before capturing my wandering hand in his and holding it, as he kissed me with more passion than he ever had before.

As we broke apart, he dropped his voice to a murmur, and said the words I had been waiting months to hear. "Eleanor. Fair Eleanor Boleyn. Sister to the future Queen. Eleanor Boleyn, Queen of my heart, will you be my Duchess, forever and forever? Will you marry me?"

****

"Anne! Anne!" I tore through the palace, shouting my sister's name. I burst through the doors of our bedchamber, and fell at her feet, gasping for air.

"What is it, Eleanor?" My sister looked up from the book she was reading.

"He's asked me! Henry Brandon! He's asked me to marry him! Will you go to the King on our behalf and ask him to bless our union?" In my intense delight, I didn't even think to prepare the ground – I just asked her straight out. Anne dropped her book.

"Henry Brandon just did what?" I should have been warned by the tension in her voice, but I wasn't.

"He asked me to marry him! He proposed! Will you go to the King for us?"

"No. Eleanor, I cannot believe you would do this! Did you learn nothing from what I told you of my courtship of Henry Percy? From how I handled Thomas Wyatt? You have to marry whomever the family wishes you to marry, not follow your heart's desires! It only brings you to ruin! Get out!"

"But Anne -" I protested, tears in my eyes. Surely if she listened to me, Anne would realise how much I loved my Henry; that it would be cruel to separate us. After all, hadn't she promised she would help me secure myself a betrothal to whoever I loved first?

"No. Get out, and don't come back until you've regained some sense. I expected better of you, sister."

Not waiting to hear any more, I fled the room, crying. George met me in the passageway.

"Hold hard, little sister! What's wrong?" he queried tenderly, drawing me close to him. Suddenly, I found myself in floods of tears, as I told him everything.

"I love Henry Brandon, George. All I want to do is spend the rest of my life with him, and I thought Anne would understand! I don't ask for much, brother. I serve Anne willingly, I serve her with loyalty, and all I want in return is the granting of one favour! One; to be able to marry the boy I love! Can't you make her reconsider?"

"I can try, sister. The trouble is, with you begging her to secure you a marriage, Anne has realised how many years are slipping away from her – years when she could have married and borne heirs. Borne healthy, living, sons. No wonder she's going to react strongly."

"I never thought of that." I admitted. "But – please, brother?"

"Nevertheless, I shall try. Leave this to me."

****

George was as good as his word, and what's more, he succeeded. Anne gave her blessing, the King gave his blessing, and on Whit Sunday of the Year of our Lord 1530, Anne, Mary and Frances Brandon helped me to dress in a sumptuous gown of silver taffeta, bedecked with emeralds and aquamarines. I threw a silver net veil, so fine it almost seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, down over my face, and we set off for the Chapel Royal.

As I entered, Thomas Talis, the choir's finest musician, struck up a stately march, and George bore me down the aisle on his arm. Father had wanted to do it, but I had begged for George, citing King Henry escorting Princess Catalina at her wedding to his brother Arthur as my example.

Henry was waiting for me, and he held out his hand to me, clasping it in his as George gave me over, bending his head low and whispering "Lady Eleanor Margaret Brandon nee Boleyn. It has a ring to it, little sister." I beamed up at him, willing myself not to laugh out loud, as Henry and I knelt before the altar, and the service began.

I remember little of the service itself, save how long-winded the vows seemed, and how I ached for them to be over.

At last they were. At last Henry was murmuring "I do." and I was doing the same, and then he was raising me up before the crowd, and throwing back the veil.

Having got this far, Henry hesitated for a moment. It was understandable, this being after all, our first kiss in public, but I, yearning for the familiar feel and taste of his lips on mine, dipped my head slightly, as though to give him permission. He needed no second urging.

His lips crushed mine with such zeal, such fervour, such ardour, that I almost staggered with surprise. A moment later, however, I had melted inside, and I was returning the kiss with just as much passion as he put into it. As we finally broke apart, to the cheers of the assembled crowd, we glanced at each other. In that instant I knew, just as certainly as he did, that I was never going to be just a Howard girl again. I was Lady Eleanor Margaret Brandon now, and nothing would ever change that.

Laughing, I gave my new husband my hand, and we turned to lead the guests into our wedding breakfast.

Lady Eleanor Margaret Brandon. I liked the sound of it.

AN: So sorry for the delay between updates – I've just had so much to do! Thanks for all being so patient - I hope this makes up for it (aren't Henry and Eleanor just so perfect together?) and that you don't mind this chapter being focused solely on Eleanor, rather than on the Great Matter as well,; it just came out that way! Please R and R!!