Disclaimer: I still need this? No, it's not mine.
Chapter 20 – City on Fire: It was Christmas, 1531, and Charles Brandon was back at court after leaving to visit his children. He'd known that he'd have to be back in time for the celebrations, and so they'd had an early Christmas at home first. He wondered what he was trying to do, what he was trying to prove. That he could reform, could be a good family man? He knew, from the way his interest was piqued by a pretty smile at court, that he hadn't really changed.
Though there weren't as many of those this year – the Queen and her ladies were gone, and Anne had a much smaller household. After all, she wasn't Queen yet. But it wasn't as though her few ladies were much temptation anyway; save for the new one, whose name he didn't know, they were spoken for by the men of Anne's family. Catherine was George's wife, and everyone expected Ann Stanhope and Edward Seymour to marry eventually.
There was Jane Seymour, of course, and she was pretty enough, but not the sort of woman who would set out to charm a man. In fact, she seemed almost disinterested in courtship, not that it mattered to him at all. And at any rate, he had more important things to worry about this Christmastide. Which was why he was glad when the King approached him, slinging an arm around his shoulders and drawing him away from the conversation he was having with the Earl of Sussex. "Game of tennis?" Henry asked.
Charles agreed wholeheartedly, but quickly sobered. "May I speak freely?"
"I hope so."
Charles knew the risk he was taking with his next words, but he couldn't help himself. He kept thinking about how Queen Katherine had looked, so alone and sad, and... And he was thinking of Margaret as well, of her hatred and disgust for Anne Boleyn. "Are you really going to marry the Lady Anne? Whatever the consequences, whatever her history?"
Suddenly, he found himself pressed up against the wall, Henry's eyes blazing as he glared at him. "What do you mean, whatever her history?" he demanded.
"I have it on very good authority that she was once betrothed to Buckingham's eldest son, and that it was a betrothal de facto, made before witnesses." That they were former retainers of the Boleyns who had left under uncertain circumstances he did not mention. In all honesty, Brandon knew what he was saying would probably turn out to be false, but he could surely defend himself by saying that he only wanted to make sure there were no further obstacles to the King's new marriage. But if he could make Henry doubt Anne, it might be the end of her power over him.
Wiltshire and Norfolk, those ruthless, grasping men, would fall, and Anne, who pushed Henry to ever more radical ideas and crueler behavior, would be forever stopped from wielding such power again. It was worth the risk, he told himself, though at the fury in Henry's gaze he almost second-guessed himself.
"I know about that. She tells me that it was only words between the traitor and her father, not even de futuro."
"Well, she would, wouldn't she?" The words slipped from him before he could control it, anger at being dismissed so easily on the word of Anne Boleyn robbing him of caution. He regretted it immediately when Henry's glare intensified.
"I said she tells me otherwise!" His voice was a snarl, and Brandon found himself roughly pushed aside before Henry stormed away. He straightened his collar and left by a different doorway, knowing that staying in the hall now was not wise. Enough people had noticed the tension that there would be stares and possibly questions from the bolder courtiers. He would prefer not to deal with that. He had enough trouble, if the look in Henry's eyes was any indication.
"Good God, what did he do?" Anthony muttered, watching Charles as he slipped from the hall. "The idiot. One of these days the King's love won't save him, if he keeps taking risks." Kate looked at her husband, and laid a hand on his arm.
"You can't worry about your friends all of the time, Anthony. It isn't good for you."
"With friends like mine, how can I not worry?" And, Kate reflected as she tried to think of a counterargument without success, that was certainly true. Brandon, the King, even Lady Jane, all of Anthony's closest friends tended to give one reason to worry.
"That's true, but even so, you have to spare some of that energy for yourself... and for our family." She had wondered how she ought to tell him, and had considered and discarded many ways of doing so. But now she smiled when he gave her an astonished look. "Did I say something strange?" she asked, playfully. Since their marriage, the two of them had grown ever closer. Kate still wasn't sure if she loved him – not the burning passion that the songs and poems told of – but the affection was real and true between them.
In all honesty, she rather thought she preferred that to the sort of passion that made one's judgment vanish entirely. While she would never dare to question her King, no one could deny that passion was leading him to make some wildly risky decisions. Kate preferred to keep her head relatively clear.
"You know very well what you just implied," Anthony said, frowning at her. "I... When?"
"The midwife I spoke to said that I should expect to be delivered in July," she answered him, with a slight smile.
"Are you feeling all right? You haven't seemed sick lately or I would have noticed, but is everything else well with you?"
Kate nodded, finding his suddenly worried concern a bit amusing. "Honestly, Anthony, I am not going to break, I promise that much. I've been a bit tired, but so far no sickness. I'm hoping that continues, though it's unlikely. I do think I'm going to leave for the country once the Christmas festivities end, just to be safe." Not only that, but to be perfectly honest, she didn't want her child growing inside her here. Kate didn't really like the court. Oh, it was exciting, and watching the courtiers play their games was fascinating, but she hated the atmosphere of greed, ambition, and cruelty. No child, even an unborn one, should be exposed to it.
"I think that would be a good idea," Anthony agreed, glancing around the court. Kate knew that he agreed with her to a great extent; he stayed only out of loyalty to his friends, a feeling that he ought to be there to offer support and a listening ear. She didn't blame him for that, but speaking of their friends...
In the time since she'd first met the other woman and wondered if she had a rival for her husband's interest, Jane Seymour had actually become a true friend to Kate as she already was to Anthony. Currently, she was looking their way with some interest, and Kate tilted her head to beckon the other woman over. Pale blue eyes sized up her and Anthony as Jane approached, and she raised and eyebrow in a way very reminiscent of her sister Anne when she sat by them. "So, what news do the two of you have to share?" she asked, a bit playfully.
"I'm with child," Kate said when Anthony nudged her. Jane blinked, and then smiled widely at them.
"Congratulations, truly." Jane took a sip from the goblet she'd been holding when she came over. "Are you going to leave for the countryside soon?"
"After the New Year, unless for some reason I cannot," Kate said. "I don't think this is the healthiest place for a pregnant woman to be, so I'll retire to the country until my child is born." She'd stay there if she could help it, but she knew better. That wasn't going to happen.
"I'm not sure it's the healthiest place for anyone," Jane said ruefully. "But no, especially not in your condition. I'll keep your husband from getting himself into too much trouble, I promise. Goodness knows I have enough practice with my siblings."
Kate laughed and Jane did too, especially when Anthony scowled at them and muttered something under his breath about being outnumbered. Kate smiled at her husband and patted his hand comfortingly. But, really, considering who his closest friends were, he did need someone to watch out for him, in case they finally rubbed off on him.
The early January day was bright but cold, and yet the gardens were still a good place for a modicum of privacy. Ann hadn't asked Edward why he'd wanted to speak to her away from everyone, but since they had so far not gotten to the point, and had mostly walked in silence with the snow crunching under their feet, well... She was beginning to get impatient. "Edward, what did you need to talk to me about?"
Edward paused, turning to look at her with an oddly intent look in his pale eyes. Ann met his gaze squarely, but she couldn't deny the fact that her heart was suddenly racing. He hadn't looked at her with quite that level of intensity since the night in the corridor that had started their courtship. And there'd been anger in his eyes then; there was none now. Just a high level of emotion that she wasn't entirely sure how to read.
"Well, I..." He trailed off for a moment, shaking his head. "It really isn't obvious?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "I would have thought you'd guess immediately.
Actually, by this point Ann did have a pretty good idea; from the way he was acting and the request for privacy... Yes, she was fairly sure she knew. But she didn't want to assume, and in any case, even if she was right she wanted to hear it from him. What she suspected wasn't the sort of thing that one wanted to just guess at, after all. "I might have, but I'd rather hear you say it than guess aloud," she said, her voice soft.
Edward took both of her hands in his, and really, it was amusing, when he had to know what she'd say and when he was normally such a calm man besides, to realize just how nervous he was – his hands were not quite steady, and that was an outward reaction she never would have expected from him. But he smiled, a slightly wry smile, but one that lit up his face regardless. "As my lady commands," he quipped, and them he grew more serious again. "Ann, will you marry me?"
And she'd been right. But being right didn't change the sudden thrill that ran through her, or the slightly cheeky grin she threw him. "Oh, I don't know. It took you long enough to get to it," she teased him, but she relented when she saw the flash of uncertainty in his eyes. He apparently was nervous, if any part of him actually thought her joke had been serious! "Of course I will, Edward. Did you really have any doubts?"
"I tend to think I'm better off not assuming things, so in that sense yes," Edward admitted. Then he smiled, and drew her in for a kiss. Ann thought, distantly, that their marriage would surprise no one at court, but this, the fact that it was a love match, that would. Most of the court believed theirs was a match of cool-headed business, and while they were both good at that... Well, there was more to them. Smiling into the kiss, she decided that she preferred to have that as their little secret anyway. Watching everyone else misunderstand was quite entertaining.
When Anne returned to her chambers, she was in a wonderful mood. The planned trip to France was the cause of a good bit of that, but also, as she and Henry had returned inside, she thought she'd glimpsed Edward kissing Mistress Stanhope. For all that some part of her resented that her brother could wed so easily, she was glad to know he was happy.
"Nan?" she called. Nan Saville was her newest lady, replacing Mary Talbot, who had left Anne's service after marrying the son of the Earl of Cumberland. Neither of them had been upset about that departure. Nan Saville was a much more pleasant replacement. When the young woman appeared, Anne continued, "Draw me a bath, the walk has made me cold."
She walked toward her desk, pulling off her gloves as she went. "I've got such exciting news. We're going to Paris! I'm going to be presented before the King." She fell silent abruptly when she saw what was on her desk, though. Three cards, two queens and a king. They must have been specially made, though, because the lettering... An H on the king card, a K one one queen and an A on the other. And the A card's queen... The A card's queen had her head cut off. It was an obvious message, Anne thought bleakly, all good mood forgotten.
"Nan?" She tried to keep her voice steady, and likely failed miserably.
"Yes, madam?"
"Who has been in the apartment today?"
"No one, my lady, not to my knowledge." She didn't say it, but Anne could see the question why in the other woman's face, and while Nan was not Jane or Mary, she was someone to speak to. And right now Anne needed that, because this wasn't just another gesture of dislike. This was an outright threat, that had to come from within the court.
"Here is a book of prophecy," she said, trying and failing to make a joke of it. "Here is the King, here is the Queen, and here is myself, with my head cut off."
Later, Jane was the first to arrive as Anne sat by the fire in her bedchamber, trying to calm her nerves. "Anne..." She said nothing else, simply wrapped her arms around her sister and held on tightly.
"I expected hatred, but somehow I never thought... I knew it was dangerous, but this?" Anne said, sounding as lost as she felt. "Jane, if this is what happens to me when I have the King's love, what will happen if I anger him?" It was something she'd been wondering since Henry had fallen on that hapless groom, the day he'd left Katherine and ordered her into exile.
"Nothing's happened, Anne," Jane said soothingly. "Someone's just trying to scare you."
"Yes, well, they've done a good job!" Anne sighed, lifting her head to meet Jane's eyes. "I can't let this get to me, can I? I have to hold my head high and smile all the time, even though I know that most of the court hates me, and only bows to me because Henry demands it. It could have been any of them, you know. They all hate me!"
"Not everyone."
"Nearly. And they wonder why I act so arrogantly. I need to show them that I don't care what any of them think. They can't know they've scared me." Even Anne knew that the defiant calm, growing with each word, was brittle, and hid her fear that all of this would somehow go wrong, but she didn't care. She wouldn't let them win.
"I've had a letter from Mary," George said, leaning against the wall. They were in Anne's presence chamber, for a hastily called family meeting a few days after the incident with the cards on Anne's desk. It had been decided that it was best to wait a few days, so that whoever was behind it wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing any sign that Anne was spooked. But now they were here, albeit with two new faces. He had brought Cat along, and Ann Stanhope hadn't been dismissed with Nan Saville. But then, she was marrying Edward, and had been helping them for some time with information. So it wasn't a surprise.
"What does she have to say?" Anne asked, drawing him from his thoughts.
"Well, she and Hal have been doing their best to drum up support for you among their tenantry and with their fellow nobles in the North. It's one of Katherine's strongholds, since they're conservative religiously, but since Hal and Mary are both well-liked, they're actually making some progress. Mostly among their tenants, who will support you for their lord and lady's sake rather than yours, but I don't see that the motives matter so much as the results."
Anne's expression was grim. "That is good, but it's a pity it can't help me with the court or the people of London. The courtiers flock to me because of Henry, but God knows they're unreliable."
"The wives of London identify with her – they see you as every pretty girl who turns every errant husband's eye. They don't think of the King's need for a son."
"Also, the city has adored Katherine since she went on her knees before Henry to beg that he spare the tradesmen's apprentices – that was in... 1517, right? Evil May Day, they called it," Tom pointed out.
"There's that," Edward agreed, sounding a bit surprised that his brother actually came up with something useful. "Anyway, I've been working on spreading rumors – mostly suggesting that if Mary is Queen, the Emperor will use their blood tie to make her his puppet. It's a careful balance, not insulting Mary or Katherine too much, but making people question a female sovereign, well... Matilda, and more recently, no one wants a return to the old wars. It won't make them like you any better, Anne, but if we shift the focus onto needing a Prince of Wales, we might have something."
Silence fell for a moment after that, all of them considering the issues before them. The truth was, the dislike of Anne had only grown – especially since Katherine's exile became public knowledge. Turning the tide would be difficult, especially as they were the only ones who seemed to care. George had approached his father and uncle, and they seemed to believe what Anne had wanted to believe – that the promise of a son would keep the people quiet, and the arrival of one would win them over. She had become disillusioned, as had everyone else in this room who had entertained the thought. But Uncle and Father... They still seemed convinced that the birth of a Prince would settle everything. None of their circle were the seasoned plotters that the older men were, but George still thought the older men were wrong.
"I don't see why we can't just try to blacken Katherine and Mary's names," Tom said impatiently. "Instead of blaming just the Emperor, call them Spanish loyalists. Or say Katherine is, and that she'll teach Mary to be the same." Edward rolled his eyes and was about to respond, but Anne beat him to it.
"It's too difficult, considering how popular they are now," she said, shaking her head. "I'm a witch and a whore in their eyes. The Reformist minority disagrees, but I don't know that they'll be enough."
"But you can do something about the court," George said. "You've said you're worried about them. Can't you be less combative?"
Anne laughed bitterly. "And you think that would make them hate and envy me less? I doubt it. Besides, I cannot afford them to think me weak, and if they think I care what they say..."
"My great-grandmother didn't care what was said of her either. In her case, after a while, she truly did not care," Cat broke into the conversation, her voice quiet but her gaze steady on Anne.
"And why should I care what Elizabeth Woodville did or didn't do? I'm not her."
"No, but you're in her position. I know what my great-grandmother went through, I have her diary. I've learned quite a few valuable lessons from it, and one of them is that acting too proud, acting untouchable and remote, it will only earn you enemies. Show a little humility, or at least a little friendliness. The great lords won't forget that, while your father might be one of them and your mother's family greater still, you began as a simple Lady, the youngest of your house. They'll expect you to remember that you were once one of them, and one of the lesser among them."
"You think I should submit to them?" Anne's voice was shrill with anger.
"No," Jane cut in quickly. "She's not saying that at all. She's saying... Anne, you treat those of us in this room like equals, or nearly so. I know that's because we're family, but you might try extending it some. If you are at least courteous, even in the face of what you know is barely-concealed hatred, those who have not yet made up their minds about you will remember it. Even some who are your enemies, but pushed to that by family or friends, might reconsider their position."
"It can't make things worse," Edward pointed out. "At worst they'll only dismiss your change in behavior as a trick, and they won't dislike you any more for it. They won't think you weak for playing a political game, and right now they think we're all insufferably arrogant."
"Father and Uncle won't change their behavior," George observed. "Even if we all try to behave better, they won't."
"That might be in your favor." Ann spoke up now, a wry twist to her mouth. "In case you haven't noticed, Wiltshire and Norfolk were not well liked before all of this. If you appear to be different than your older relatives, it can only be to the good. And... There's something else, speaking of relatives. As grand as all of you have grown up, perhaps you've forgotten, but William Boleyn, your forebear who first gained the Boleyn titles, is still a common hero."
"Father doesn't like us to talk about him," George said. "He doesn't want anyone to remember that once, the Boleyns were the Bullens, and London mercers."
"Well, that's as may be," Ann said with a sly little smile, "but Katherine is a beloved figure, and you need to break her hold on the people's hearts. Not by insulting her, it's the wrong move, but with the stories that people like my brother Michael's mother tell to their children and the children they raise for their noble masters." George vaguely remembered hearing that the bastard Stanhope's mother had been the trueborn children's governess. That must have been awkward, he thought with some amusement, but said nothing. Michael was a good man from what little he knew, baseborn or no, and close to both his sister and Edward. Neither would appreciate his commentary.
"Tell them that Anne is the descendant of London's own hero, and more recently, it was her grandfather who led the charge at Flodden, for all Katherine has been given the credit. Admittedly, she did rally the soldiers, but it was still the old earl who led the charge, his men who caught and killed the Scots King." Edward sounded thoughtful. "It could work. Father would be furious, but..."
"But we have to use what we have, even something he would rather leave buried," Anne said quietly. "This gamble is still too risky to do otherwise." She sighed. "And... George, Cat, Jane, you have a point as well, when you say I could be more courteous. I'll hate every moment of it, but if you really think it will help me..."
"I can lend you my great-grandmother's diary," Cat said quietly. "As another girl raised from subject to the King's chosen bride, you might be able to learn from her experiences. Especially as they say King Henry shares many traits with his grandfather."
Anne nodded. She didn't look happy, George noted, and he doubted that she liked any of this at all – he knew Anne well enough to know that she would prefer to scoff at those who mocked her behind her back than to be courteous to them. She thought the latter was a sign of weakness – generally, he would agree with her. But he also remembered something Anne herself had said to him, when he presented her with a drawing of the Boleyn falcon pecking apart the Aragon pomegranate. "This isn't a game. It's dangerous." She'd been more right than any of them had really understood at the time, he thought now. She needed to remember what she'd known then, they all needed to remember it and not forget. Or else they might all be lost.
Tom glared at Edward's back as they left Anne's apartments, wanting nothing more than to jerk his brother around and punch him in the face. Maybe break his nose, even... "I'm not an idiot, you know," he snapped when they were the only two in the corridor. "I saw you rolling your eyes in there, and how surprised you were that I remembered Evil May Day."
"If you aren't an idiot, then I should like to see you prove it," Edward snapped, turning around to face Tom, pale eyes like ice. "You remember one or two good things, have an occasional bright idea, and spend the rest of your time spouting foolish schemes. That does not give me, or anyone else, much confidence in your intelligence."
Tom clenched his fists, and again considered swinging one of them into Edward's arrogant face. He'd have liked to do that, to hear the crunch as his brother's nose broke, see the blood. But he didn't, because however much they might hate each other, they both knew that they had to present a united family front. That was why this conversation was taking place in a deserted corridor, after all.
"You hate me," he declared. "You always have, because I'm more attractive and people like me better. I'm charming and you're just a damned stick-in-the-mud."
"Charming? And yet, who has managed to find a wife? You keep trying to catch the daughters of high nobles, and they keep refusing you," Edward mocked. "You aim too high and always have."
"And your wife-to-be is a mere knight's daughter, and her only family is a bastard brother who happens to be your friend. No wonder you're going to get the sister to warm your bed." He knew immediately that he'd taken things a step too far – though, really, Edward had been the one to bring up women in the first place – and Tom allowed himself one nasty laugh before slipping away from his suddenly livid brother.
Really, Edward shouldn't start things he couldn't finish, though Tom admitted to himself that is last comment was a bit of a low blow. He wasn't stupid – it might not be a romance for the ages, but there was something going on there with his brother and his betrothed. Not surprising; Edward was a cold fish and Ann Stanhope was an icy bitch, they deserved each other.
He found himself in one of the courtyards, kicking stones absently, bored to tears. "Sir Thomas?" asked a voice from behind him. "Is everything all right?"
It was Jane Parker again. Not that Tom was complaining; she had been a sympathetic ear to him before, after all. "Nothing out of the ordinary, Lady Jane. My brother Edward has simply seen fit to remind me, yet again, of why I am ever so inferior to him."
Jane hesitated, and then sat next to him. "If you don't mind my saying so... I think he must be jealous. He knows that you're better than he is, people like you more. So he makes sure he's the one always in your sister Lady Anne's company, and he probably speaks ill of you to her." She laid a hand on his arm, feather-light like she wasn't sure she should. And, really, she should not; it was improper, but Tom didn't mind in the slightest.
He considered her words, and they made sense to him. It would be just like Edward to thwart him in such a way, after all. Even as boys, Edward had always resented him, hated that while he was the heir, their father – their true father, John Seymour – had always preferred him. It was why Tom thought he should have Wolf Hall. Let Edward take some crumb from the Boleyn table; he was more one of them anyway. But he'd made sure that Tom would not be – even George was less a friend than he had been – so now he would be the only true Seymour. Why not?
"Sir Thomas?" Jane said, drawing him from his thoughts.
"You know, Lady Jane, I think you may have a point. I was a fool not to see it before." And he was truly a fool not to see the pleased gleam in Jane Parker's eyes.
"Cranmer did what?" Michael hadn't meant to be so blunt about it, but when Cromwell told him what Cranmer had been up to in Nuremberg... Well, he couldn't help himself. "I remember hearing he'd been married once before, back at Cambridge, but he hadn't finished his studies then. Now... He could be burned for this."
"At the present time, yes." In anyone else, Michael thought, that expression would look mischievous. On Cromwell, he just wasn't sure that word could apply. But the other man, oblivious to his aide's musings, continued, with an odd look in his eye like he wanted Michael to share the joke. "As to whether or not it will continue to be illegal for priests to marry, well, who can say?"
Michael shook his head. "You assume that the King will go that far," he pointed out. "I don't know the King's character well, but I read his defense of the papacy when I was still at Cambridge. If Clement hadn't denied him his annulment, our King would be a happy Catholic till the end of his days. Do you really think that the Lady Anne can influence him that much?"
Cromwell raised his eyebrows. "Why don't you tell me? Your sister is one of her companions and about to marry her brother – your best friend at Cambridge, as I recall."
"I do hope that's not why you took me into your service. I barely know the Lady, though I suppose through Edward and Ann I'm more informed than most. Truthfully, at the moment I think they are focusing their efforts on improving Lady Anne's reputation, rather than pushing for new reforms. That will likely come later, if they think they can afford to do it. Lady Anne might risk it anyway, I don't know, but Edward's not the sort to so I think he'd step in to try and stop her if that were the case."
"Odd. Norfolk and Wiltshire don't seem to care about the common people – the courtiers, yes, in terms of gaining allies and thwarting enemies, but not anyone else."
"I never said that the lords were involved. The most important of the handful of things I know about the Boleyn faction is this: Never assume that they all think the same way. The younger generation is rather more sensible."
"Is that why I've been hearing tales in the City of Lady Anne's heroic ancestor, the son of a Lord Mayor?"
"It might be."
"Interesting. Especially as you claim to know so little, and yet what you do know is quite useful. In any case, no, I did not employ you for these details, helpful as they are. You were a good lawyer before, if a bit green, and I need as many reformers working on the King's business as possible. And, yes, I wanted you for your connections. After all, I'm sure the future Queen's brother and sister-in-law will be glad to see you well employed, and some of that pleasure might come to me."
"You want to stay in their good graces, then."
"Charles Brandon is banished from court yet again, Cardinal Wolsey was sent to his grave because they did not stay in the Boleyns' good graces. So, yes, that is a place I would prefer to be."
Truthfully, although Michael wasn't sure his employment would really help in that goal... He couldn't blame Cromwell. Not at all.
At the last family wedding, it was Anne whose smiles didn't quite reach her eyes. Jane had understood why; George had gotten married right around the time that the King's Supremacy was being debated, at a time when Anne's marriage once again hung in the balance. But now... Now they were scheduled to go to Calais in October, with Anne being presented before King Francis – and possibly his sister Marguerite, now Queen of Navarre. Just a few days ago, the King had given Anne lands and an income worthy of a marquessate in Wales – the Pembroke lands, inherited from his great-uncle Jasper Tudor. Her future was more secure than it had been in some time, so Anne was able to laugh and smile naturally at Edward and Ann's wedding.
No, to Jane's shame it was her turn for her smiles to have a hint of sadness behind them, though her joy for her brother and his new wife was genuine enough that at least the smiles were real. The only one who would really notice anyway was Anne, and she was distracted by the King, who had once again made a Court affair of a wedding for one of Anne's brothers. Jane found herself hoping that her own wedding would not be so large.
Her wedding. And there was the trouble, really. George and Edward were married now, Anne's marriage would come, it was just a matter of time, and Mary had missed yet another family event – but this time it was due to her just-announced pregnancy, and a wish not to risk travel right now. Even Anthony and Kate were going to have their first child before the year was out. Jane's hand tightened on her goblet of wine, and she seriously considered draining it and refilling it, again and again until her unusually dark thoughts were washed away.
But such things had never been to her taste. And what good would it do? Come tomorrow, she would still be the only member of the family left alone, with no way to make things any different. Tom was as unattached as she, but he was a man; he could find a wife if he wanted, flirt and bed women in the meantime. He seemed to have a preference for Lady Jane Parker at the moment – hopefully nothing would come of that. Jane Parker was a snake. But for Jane it was different. Sometimes she feared that her stepfather meant to leave her a spinster, tied to Anne forever as a useful companion. Jane didn't want to leave her sister's side, she loved Anne and wanted to help her, but...
She didn't want that to be all that her life was. She didn't want her entire world to be Anne's shadow, the confidante to all of her siblings, to some extent. Was it so wrong to want a bit of life that was her own? If her husband was a courtier, there was no reason why she couldn't remain with her sister and still try to find happiness. It wasn't the marriage bed Jane craved; she didn't have nearly as much interest in that as some. In fact, she could only remember wanting someone in that sense once, a boy she and Anne had known for years in France, who had suddenly changed in Jane's eyes. The priests spoke of chastity, of guarding against lusts, but save for that one boy, Jane hadn't had a problem with that. She simply wasn't interested, normally. Though she hoped, that if she ever did marry, such a feeling would come with time, as she knew the man better. It was possible, anyway.
No, what she really wanted was a family. She didn't care if she was a man's second wife, expected to stand as a mother to his children. Her mother had done that, and done it well. Margery Boleyn was here at her son's wedding, her pallor casting a bit of a shadow on the day, as all of her children knew what it meant. She would not last for much longer. But she had been mother to all of them, blood or no. That was what Jane wanted, a chance to emulate her mother and raise children.
She just wasn't sure they were going to let her. And even if they did... She was the only pawn the family had, save Tom, to bind others to them. What sort of man might she have to marry, for the sake of the family? Jane just didn't know, and it was that thought which had her deciding that she was going to seek the comfort of wine after all, for just this one night.
Tomorrow she would be her usual, pragmatic self about all this again, but tonight... Tonight, seeing the quiet sort of love between her brother and his new bride, an emotion so often missed by those around them, she was not, and chasing her unusually dark thoughts away seemed like a wonderful idea.
A/N: Don't worry, Jane isn't slipping into depression or alcoholism; she's just having a bad moment. It seemed typical of unobtrusive Jane, though, that hers comes in the middle of a family affair, subtle and unnoticed – well, as far as she knows. We'll see next chapter if she really was so discreet.