The Dudley Rose of England
January 1561: Prince Edward has fallen ill with smallpox, and Queen Elizabeth blames her husband. The remaining children begin to discuss what will happen if Edward dies, and Doctor Owens has some unfortunate news for Queen Elizabeth and King Robert.
Chapter XIV: Dicussions and Blame
18th January 1561: Whitehall Palace, England: The Royal Nursery
The court seemed more subdued than usual. For suggesting that she leave her son's side, Queen Elizabeth had confined Thomas Howard, 4th Duke of Norfolk to the Tower of London on pain of death, and had almost beaten one of her ladies. The only person who hadn't been scolded was Lady Katherine Ashley, who had, eventually, been able make the Queen leave her son's side and while Elizabeth paced her chambers, Prince John and the other royal children were discussing what would happen if their brother died.
"If Edward dies," Bessie began, looking up to her younger siblings "Then you are the Prince of Wales."
"I know," John replied, barely glancing to Bessie, from his position in the chair near the window.
"And Mama and Papa will spend all of their time raising you to be King and me to be a Queen." As Bessie spoke, John could hear the amibition in her voice and knew that she would be perfectly fine with Edward's death.
"I know," John replied again, barely manging to keep the anger out of his voice.
"And then-"
"Just be quiet, Bessie!" John roared, swirling to Bessie causing her to nearly jump out of her skin "For goodness sake, you are wishing Edward to his grave!"
"I am not!"
"YES, YOU ARE!" John thundered, angrily pointing a finger at her "YOU DON'T CARE WHETHER EDWARD DIES OR NOT! YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT BEING ONE STEP CLOSER TO THE THRONE!"
"No, I, I," Bessie began to protest, but John cut her off.
"You don't care," He hissed, prodding her chest with his finger "You just want one less threat in your way to the throne, well, I assure you, Bessie, that I will not let you get it. I don't care if I become Prince of Wales after Edward's death, or not, but I do not want a bitch like you taking the throne. Papa says that you're a woman fit for being Queen of France, but if Charles de Valois, Duke of Orléans marries you, then he is getting nothing but a traitress for a wife!"
Princess Anne, aged eight, gasped and covered the ears of five year old Princess Katherine, who in turn covered the ears of three year old Princess Mary. Prince Richard, aged one, giggled happily, copying his sisters and covering his ears.
John and Bessie glared at each other, but neither moved.
With a shrill cry of "Please!" Anne interrupted, seperating the squabbling siblings "Arguing isn't going to make Edward well again!"
"Yes, you're right, Annie. You're right." John conceded to his elder sister and returned to his chair, but, nonetheless, no-one dared to approach him, for they knew that, like Edward, he had inherited the unstoppable temper of their mother and grandfather.
18th January 1561: Whitehall Palace, England: Chambers of Queen Elizabeth and King Robert
Robert ducked as another paperweight soared over his head. He had been ducking for about an hour as his wife had been furiously throwing things at him. His sister, Lady Mary Sidney, nee Dudley, had narrowly avoided being hit by a paperweight and had ushered all of the Queen's ladies out of the Queen's chambers and, when Robert Cecil had tried to interfere, he had been violently smacked over the head with a very large and very hard tome and was now under the care of Doctor Rodrigo López.
"This is all your fault!" Elizabeth roared, tossing another paperweight at him as the previous one smashed against the wall behind.
"My fault?" Robert asked, confused.
"Yes!" Elizabeth snapped, rummaging through one of the drawers in her desk before picking out a translation, which she had written for her brother when she was thirteen years old, and tossing it at Robert. The thick book soared through the air, missed Robert and crashed against the wall with a loud crunch "If you hadn't favoured Bessie then we would have seen this earlier!"
"You favour Bessie too!" Robert snapped in reply.
"Because she is like me!" Elizabeth snapped "But I did not neglect our other children either!" Elizabeth's temper, already explosive, was beginning to bubble again, and, with one last hurl of a paperweight, she cried "BY GOD, I SHOULD NEVER HAVE MARRIED YOU!" before slamming open the double doors and stalking away, leaving her shocked husband behind. With a loud smash, the doors slammed shut behind her, and the picture of Henry VIII, which had been on the wall, fell to the floor with a monumental crunch.
Striding down the hall, Elizabeth shook her head to prevent the tears from falling and stopped outside a doorway; the doorway to Prince Edward's room. She knew that her son would be asleep right now, and that he shouldn't be disturbed, but she couldn't help herself. Reaching out, she gripped the handle and pushed the door open. The sight that was before her made her gasp in shock.
Edward, wrapped tightly in red towels and covered in red spots, was curled up on the bed. Buckets and cloths were strewn around and several ladies were dabbing his forehead with the cloths. When they spotted Elizabeth, they dropped into curtsey, murmuring "Your Majesty," as they did so.
Elizabeth waved them off and glanced to Edward, before moving elegantly over to the bed and glancing to one of the ladies, Lady Amy Fitzpatrick, nee Robsart "How is he?"
"There's no change, Your Majesty." Amy replied, sadly glancing over to the boy "Doctor Owens says that if he has not made an improvement by tonight, then he is not likely to recover at all."
Elizabeth nodded and moved to the bed. Taking a seat, she settled herself at the edge of her son's bed, and, once all the ladies had left, began to cry into her arms, which were on the side of the bed. Thick tears leaked from her blue eyes and her body shook.
"Mama?"
19th January 1561: Whitehall Palace, England: Chambers of Queen Elizabeth and King Robert
"Your Majesties," Began Doctor Owens as he stood opposite the Queen and King "Prince Edward, due to his recent improvement, is likely to make a full recovery over the next few days, but I bring bad news."
"Bad news?" Robert asked, as he felt Elizabeth tense in his arms "What's wrong?"
"Despite his recovery," Began Doctor Owens "His Highness, The Prince of Wales, is likely to have difficulty conceiving children. It is very likely that his Highness, The Duke of York, will succeed the Prince of Wales as King after his death, Your Majesties."
Robert had gone pale, and, once Doctor Owens finished, he breathed "He'll be infertile?"
"It is possible, Your Majesty, but it is also possible that he will be entirely normal," Replied Doctor Owens. Elizabeth waved her hand in a motion and Doctor Owens knew that she wanted him to leave. He bowed, murmured "Majesties," and left the room.
Elizabeth seemed to be struggling to take in the thought of her heir apparent being infertile "What are we going to do if Edward is infertile?"
"We shall change the succession, Bess," Robert replied "We shall remove Edward from the succession and give him a new title, and give John the title of Prince of Wales and make him our heir."
"Robin!" Scolded Elizabeth, shocked at the words of her husband "We cannot do that. Edward is our eldest son and our heir. Besides, John will have heirs and they will succeed their father."
"I hope that you are right, Bess," Replied Robert, uncertainly "For the sake of England."
"Edward is smarter than you give him credit for, Robin," Elizabeth replied "You often push him to hard, Robin."
"My son must be perfect in every way, Bess." Robert stated, sitting in one of the chairs by the fire.
"I understand that, Robin." She replied, placing a hand onto his arm "But some nights you do not allow him to sleep because he has not, in your eyes, done well enough. What he lacks in brains, he makes up for in other ways. He is affectionate, and understands military tactics, meaning that he will be able to defend this country when he is King."
"I trust you, Bess," Replied Robert "but Edward has been nothing but a failure since his lessons began. John, who is three years younger than Edward, is smarter than his brother."
"He is only smarter when it comes to lessons and physical activity," Elizabeth replied "John, however, is terrible when it comes to military tactics. He has no idea of what to do in a situation. I saw Edward and John playing together a few weeks ago, and when Edward had the advantage, John began to panic and made several mistakes, despite being fitter and slimmer than his brother."
Glancing up to the clock, Robert nodded in acknowledgement of his wife's words, and he and Elizabeth, now reunited, climbed into bed. The previous argument, which had been over favouring their children, lay forgotten in their minds.
To Be Continued
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