I don't own what you recognise. Showtime does. Though can anyone own history?
Chapter 36
Disaster
Two or three weeks after the King's accident, Anne decided she would take a walk in the gardens, despite the threatening sky and sent Nan to enquire of His Majesty whether he would care to join her.
I hardly think any of us expected the King to agree, but the curt denial, when it came, still stung, even though he dressed it up in pretty words for the sake of courtesy towards his pregnant wife, excusing himself on account of the old jousting wound on his leg, which had been reopened in his fall and wishing Anne a pleasant morning and walk nevertheless.
Another person stayed behind as well. Mistress Seymour. She pleaded a headache and Anne, unwilling to spend any more time in her rival's company than she had to, granted her the morning off her duties without needing much persuasion.
If only she hadn't! If only Jane had come with us and not stayed behind in her rooms; Cromwell's old rooms. We might have been spared the horrifying drama that unfolded merely hours later.
As it was, however, she did stay behind, much to His Majesty's pleasure, I might add. I know because I saw them.
Because of the cool wind in the gardens, Anne, wanting to stay warm for the sake of the child, sent me running back to the palace for another fur lined wrap. I slipped into her rooms and found the required article of clothing easily enough, but decided, since Anne had been walking towards the fountain, to hurry down the back stairs past Cromwell's old rooms and rejoin the others that way.
Passing the rooms in question, I saw that the outer door was ajar. Upon reaching it, intending to close it, I spotted the King inside. He was sitting in an armchair by the fire, with a woman behind him, massaging his shoulders. Her face was thrown into shadow by the firelight, but I didn't need the King's loud whisper "Jane, your hands are truly like ambrosia; their touch is so welcome." to tell me who it was. Of course it was Mistress Seymour. These, the closest rooms to the King's, were her family's rooms now.
"Your Majesty is too kind. Should I leave you now or can I be of any other service?" Jane's soft whisper, though it sounded poisonous to me, was clearly music to King Henry's ears.
"Henry, please, sweet Jane. Call me Henry." With a deep groan of a sigh, he reached up, pulling Jane down on to his lap.
"Oh that I could have you this close to me forever." he murmured throatily, his voice thick with desire.
I didn't wait to hear Jane's reply. The little of their conversation I had witnessed was already making me nauseous.
Swishing past the rooms with all the pride of a Boleyn, I ran to find the others, silently resolving to keep Anne from going up those stairs at all costs.
Unfortunately, the weather didn't comply with my wishes. Not long after I had helped my sister into her extra layer, the heaven opened and a downpour began, drenching us all.
"Inside. Now." Mother hustled us all towards the nearest door to the palace, which led to the back stairs by Cromwell's rooms. As we passed them, Anne, who had handed her wet outer layers to some of the other ladies surrounding her, called to me "I hate to bother you again, sister, but would you fetch the shawl that I left in His Majesty's rooms the other day? I don't want to catch a chill."
Reluctant to intrude upon such a scene as the one I would most likely find in those adjoining rooms to King Henry's, the ones I would have to pass through in order to find the shawl Anne wanted, I hesitated.
"What's wrong? Intimidated by the thought of His Majesty's rooms?" Anne teased. "Very well, I'll fetch it myself."
She pushed past me before I could stop her, leaving me powerless to do anything as she threw the door open.
I only moved when she screamed.
Rushing to her side, I held her upright as her knees buckled, watching as King Henry and Jane Seymour sprang apart, both reddening as they realised that we had all caught them with their lips so firmly entwined. His Majesty waved Jane away and she scurried out as he came to Anne's side, taking her from me and cradling her to him even while she railed at him.
"Just when my belly is doing its business, I find you wenching with Mistress Seymour! Have you no shame, Henry?"
"Hush, Anne. Hush. Calm down, sweetheart. Please. It was just one kiss. It meant nothing. Calm yourself. For the sake of our Prince. Please."
From the look on Anne's face, I knew the soothing words were too late, too meaningless. She'd been stabbed in the heart like never before. Even if she didn't lose this Prince with the shock, she'd never trust the King again.
Yet she relaxed in his arms enough to let him carry her to her rooms, the rest of us scuttling in the wake of his long strides.
Suddenly I felt a hand enclose my arm in a vice like grip, pulling me away from the group.
"Your sister's finished!" Charles Brandon glared down at me in the shelter of the alcove he had wrenched me into. I struggled against his iron hold.
"Let me go!"
"No. Your sister's finished, Eleanor. She'll never hold her throne now."
"You don't know that!"
"She's lost two boys already. Henry's out of patience."
"Not if she keeps this one! If she keeps this child and delivers him safely, then she's safe forever."
"And what are the chances of her keeping this one? After the Joust? After this morning? No. I tell you now, Eleanor, your sister's Prince is destined to never breathe in this world. Anne is the fallen star now."
My father in law glanced me up and down before continuing "If you and Henry didn't have a son; if George hadn't been born; if Margaret and Anne were your only children, I'd have your marriage annulled."
"On what grounds?" I challenged. "Henry would never let you."
"I'd find some pretext. And believe you me, my son would do as he was told. As it is, it's high time you started to act like you think yourself a Brandon. I need you to befriend Jane Seymour."
"The woman who constantly causes my sister such distress? The thorn in her side? Never!"
"Jane Seymour will be England's Queen before the autumn. I suggest you watch what you say, because like it or not, you'll do as I say and befriend her."
"You don't know that! Anne's child survived one shock with his father's accident. He's already shown us that he's a strong Prince. He may yet survive another. That's my final word. Now if you'll excuse me, the Queen needs me.
I finally pulled away and spun on my heel, stalking off.
Anne was sleeping when I reached her rooms.
Still trembling from my encounter with the Duke of Suffolk, I flung myself into a chair and tried to attend to some sewing, but it was useless. I was far too angry.
Finally giving up, I had risen from my chair and was halfway to the door, intending to change into my riding habit and go for a gallop across the fields to release some of my inner tension, when we all heard the sound that we had been dreading. Anne's piteous screams.
Madge was across the room in a flash.
"I'm going for Dr. Linacre."
I nodded, but as soon as I saw Anne for myself, lying curled up in an ever widening pool of blood, I knew it was hopeless. We'd never save this Prince. Try as we might, he was gone. My sister, however much I hated it, had miscarried of her saviour.
The King came to see Anne within the hour.
"They tell me you have lost my boy."
There was no kindness in his voice whatsoever. All Anne could do was nod mutely, begging him with her eyes to comfort her. The lost Prince had been her boy too.
"You promised me a boy. I tore my country apart for your boy. But I see now that God will not grant me male children."
King Henry whirled around and went to the door, barely sparing me a glance as he passed, though we were once such close friends.
"You have no one to blame but yourself for this." Anne's voice was hollow, but it had the desired effect. It stopped His Majesty dead in his tracks.
"I lost our boy because I was distressed to see you with Mistress Jane Seymour. Because the love I bear you is so great that it broke my heart to see you love others. It physically hurts to see you in the arms of another woman."
For an instant, something flickered in Henry Tudor's eyes. An ember of pity or passion, perhaps? But then he set his jaw and hardened his heart.
"I cannot speak of it; the loss is too great. I will speak with you when you are well, Madam."
He left Anne's bedchamber without another word, leaving her crying bitterly, absolutely awash with tears and me doing my best to ease her pain and comfort her, as any good sister should.
Though I myself had resolved to stay at Anne's side, no matter what fate threw at us, the Boleyn sisters and our beloved brother, I knew I couldn't ask that of everyone. In fact, in some cases, it was definitely best to spare them the pain and stigma that came from being too closely associated with my elder sister these days.
To this end, I sought out young Kitty Howard after supper.
"Kitty? Do you remember that I once told you that I might have to ask you to leave Court?"
"Yes, Lady Lincoln. I do. Should I... is it that bad?"
"I'm afraid so. Anne is very insecure right now. If we Boleyns want to keep anything of what we've gained over the last ten years, then we're going to have to fight; fight with everything we've got. You need to get out of here. Now."
"But why? Let me stay and help. Please. I love the Queen. She's my cousin. I don't want anything to happen to her."
I smiled wanly at Kitty, touched by her loyalty.
"And that's precisely why she doesn't want you hurt. Trust me. You're too young to deserve to get caught up in all of this. Please. Just go."
"But...I need Her Majesty's permission."
"I'll think of something to tell Anne. Just pack your things and leave. I want you gone by tomorrow night. Promise me."
Kitty opened her mouth to protest, but I spoke with such finality that she couldn't. In the end, she merely nodded in silent accord.
Stepping forward, I wrapped her in a fiercely grateful embrace.
"Thank you, Katherine. God Bless you, Cousin. God Bless you."