Chapter Thirty-Seven
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Rosalie went into her confinement a week later. When she saw the tapestries, she wept on Bella's shoulder like her heart was breaking and said that she had wronged her so badly, which was not the reaction that Bella was hoping for. She chalked it up to the weepy humours of pregnancy and just patted Rosalie and told her she was forgiven.
"No," Rosalie said with a watery smile. "I can't ever be forgiven, but as you told me, I can spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it."
Bella had no idea what Rosalie could have done that was so awful. No doubt, she had been mean when Bella first came, but Bella didn't hold a grudge for it.
Rosalie's confinement meant that Bella was excused from court for the duration. Bella spent a good bit of that time with Edward and the children. Rosalie had decided to imitate Bella by allowing Emmett into the outer rooms of her lying-in chamber, something which caused all of the servants (and Bess) to shake their heads and mutter that they didn't know what this world was coming to.
At the end of the first week in June, Bess came down to the river bank where Edward and Bella were lying on a blanket in each other's arms, naming the shapes they saw in the clouds above. Bess sat down beside them and looked up at the cloud Bella had just declared looked like a bear.
"More like a badger, I should think," Bess said thoughtfully. "Look at the long snout."
"Almost as long as yours," Edward teased.
"I have a mind to change your title from steward to chimney sweep," Bess threatened.
"I might enjoy that," Edward whispered into Bella's ear. "I seem to have an affinity for dark, tight spaces."
Bella laughed and smacked his shoulder playfully. How different Edward had become from the tightly controlled and remote man who had stolen her pelt. That man would have never lain on the riverbank with her and "wasted" the day looking at clouds roll by. That man would have never made a salacious joke and grinned at his wife when she smacked him for it.
"I don't even want to know," Bess said. "Anyway, I came down here with news."
"What is it this time?" Edward sighed. "Has Phillip found a substitute for Madame Denali?"
Bess snorted. "I wish. Then perhaps he'd leave me alone."
"Still pestering you?"
"He asked me to marry him."
"Again?" Edward asked. "'Twould do him some good if he would mind the fact he has a wife already."
"He doesn't think Mary will live much longer," Bess said, pitching her voice low. Their servants were far back, sitting on a blanket of their own on the lawn, but those were dangerous words.
"He may be right," Bella said. "She's not doing well." It seemed every part of the Queen was giving her trouble these days. Her head ached, her eyes burned, her teeth were loose and sore, her breathing labored, her stomach bilious, and her joints were inflamed with the same gout that had afflicted her mother. In response, her doctors bled her more often and gave her purges to try to force the bad humours from her body. The purges left her even more weak and pale, which caused them to redouble their efforts.
"I came not to discuss the Queen's health," Bess said. "I came to tell you that the council has given in and declared war on France. She used the pretext that France had supported the Dudley Conspiracy."
Edward groaned. It was news they'd been expecting but dreading. With Phillip at her side, the Queen felt more confident. When the council had refused to do her bidding, she threatened to replace them with councilors who would. They changed their minds quickly.
"Phillip has ordered the sale of lands and estates that belong to the Crown to raise the money he needs," Bess said, and at this, her voice was bitter and resentful. Phillip was not the only one who thought the Queen was not long for this world, and Bess was already thinking of England as hers. "Edward, she'll want you to go and lead some of their forces."
"I won't," Edward said. "I'm no general. I know nothing of military tactics."
"Neither do the others that she's appointing," Bess said. "At this point, I think she'd take anyone who's ever read a biography of Caesar."
"No," Edward told her, his voice firm. "I won't do it. I won't leave my family to be an incompetent leader for a cause in which I do not believe."
Bess nodded. "I'll have my people tell her you'd be a poor choice and you're needed here."
"Thank you," Edward said.
Bess looked out over the river, her expression brooding. "I'm going away for a bit. Anne of Cleves is ailing and I want to be with her when she - " Bess stopped as her voice cracked.
Anne of Cleves was the last surviving wife of King Henry VIII, a princess he had wed to cement an alliance with Germany as a buffer against Spain and France, which had recently formed their own alliance. For their first meeting he decided to play the prank he had enjoyed so much with Katherine of Aragon. He dressed up as a peasant and stormed into her chamber. Katherine had always pretended not to recognize him and had danced with the "stranger" or favored him with a ribbon from her gown. Anne genuinely didn't recognize him, and was alarmed at this fat, uncouth peasant who tried to kiss her.
Henry had stomped out of the chamber and returned in his kingly robes. Anne had been deeply embarrassed and the King had been humiliated by the look of horror and disgust on her face when he tried to kiss her. He went through with the marriage, but declared that she was so ugly, and her breasts were so droopy, that he couldn't consummate the union out of repulsion. (He hastened to add that there was nothing wrong with his virility since he had wet dreams and was sure he could perform with someone else.) He wanted an immediate annulment. The alliance between Spain and France had fizzled and she wasn't needed, anyway.
Anne wasn't a beauty, but she wasn't ugly, either. She only became "ugly" when Henry said she was. As soon as he said it, all the courtiers agreed and consoled him as a poor, put-upon man who had been tricked into an unwanted union with a hideous hag.
When Anne saw the King's men coming for her, she had fainted, certain they were going to take her to the Tower and behead her, but they came bearing papers for an annulment, which she quickly signed, though she politely exclaimed that she was mournful to lose such a fine husband. Because of her cooperation, Henry had made her very wealthy and declared that she was to be known as his "beloved sister."
Out of all of the King's wives, she was the one who lived the happiest life. Once she was no longer his wife, the King found that he liked Anne very much. All of his children were fond of her as well, Elizabeth, especially. Anne was witty and lively, and so well-versed in European politics that the King once said he wished he could appoint her as a councilor. She never re-married, nor did she ever see her homeland again, but her life in England was comfortable and happy, and she had many friends.
"I pray that she recovers," Edward said, but Bess smiled sadly.
"I don't think that's a possibility at this stage, cousin, but I pray the same. Please tell Rosalie that I'm sorry I won't be here for her good hour."
Bella had been pretty sure that Elizabeth would find something that would prevent her from being present at the birth anyway. She nodded and rose to kiss Bess lightly on the lips. "I'll tell her. Come home soon, Bess."
They followed her back to the house instead of resuming their place on the blanket. The children would be rising from their naps soon and Bella had promised to play with them in the great hall when they woke. Edward joined them and found himself playing the part of a hungry bear, chasing after the children on his hands and knees. When he caught them and took them back to his "den" under the table, little Elizabeth, as the brave knight, had to go and rescue them.
Bella was breathless with laughter when the maid came into the room. The maid had not been with them long, and looked at the Duke, roaring under the table, his hands extended into claws and the Duchess, standing on top of a chair, "imprisoned" in a tower, waiting for little Elizabeth to conquer the bear and come to rescue her, and decided that the Duke and Duchess were just a little bit mad. Edward threw his arms around little Elizabeth with a fierce growl and pretended to bite into her shoulder. Little Elizabeth shrieked and giggled.
The maid hated to interrupt, but it was necessary. "Your grace?" She dropped into a curtsey. "Lady Lisle's time has come."
"Goodness!" Bella exclaimed, hopping down from her chair. She quickly kissed her children and her husband and hurried up the stairs to Rosalie's chamber.
The midwife had already arrived and set up her birthing chair. She was encouraging Rosalie to walk around the room, though she had to pause when the pains hit her. She had her arms around the shoulders of two of her maids.
"Walking around," Kat said, and shook her head. "I've never heard of the like! She should be lying in bed to save her strength."
"Ignore her," advised the midwife. "I've delivered more babies than I can count. Trust me. 'Twill make the birth go faster."
Rosalie didn't reply. Another contraction had hit and she held her breath.
"No, you must breathe deeply," Bella told her. "Deeply, but quickly." She demonstrated and Rosalie fell into the rhythm with her until the contraction had passed.
"Please sit on the chair, my lady, and allow me to see how far you've progressed."
Bella took her hand in her own and Rosalie squeezed it with a wince when the midwife pushed her fingers inside. "Not much longer," the midwife said cheerfully. "You're doing well, my lady."
"Th- thank you." Sweat beaded her forehead and Bella dipped a cloth in the water the midwife had nearby. She bathed Rosalie's face with the cool water. Rosalie's breath came in frightened little gasps and her eyes were wide with fear. Her last delivery had been difficult and she was afraid that she'd experience something similar.
"Don't be frightened Rosalie. Everything is going just as it should and soon you'll have a beautiful baby to love." She gave Rosalie a conspiratorial wink and said in a loud whisper. "Let's hope the poor thing doesn't look like Emmett."
Rosalie laughed, a sound that was cut off when the next contraction came. Bella encouraged her to breathe quickly again until it passed. "See? All is well. It won't be much longer. Just breathe with me and hold onto my hand. I won't let you go."
"I wish I had your forbearance," Rosalie said. "You couldn't even tell that you were in pain, you were so serene, until you went into hard labor."
Bella had always hated lying and she wasn't very good at it. "I didn't want Edward to worry," she said.
Rosalie gritted her teeth as another wave swept through her. She gripped Bella's hand tightly and panted for breath.
Giving birth was hard work for humans, Bella reflected as the contractions began to come more frequently and then Rosalie was told to push. She strained, her face red and sweaty. Bella bathed her face and talked her through it, just as the midwife soothed her with soft words of praise. One final push and a ragged groan from Rosalie and the baby slid out into the midwife's hands.
Silence filled the room instead of the sound of a baby's wail.
The baby's tiny face was blue, the cord wrapped tightly around his neck. The midwife swiftly untangled it, but the infant did not move. She jiggled him and gave his bottom a sharp pat, but he did not react.
"What's wrong?" Rosalie cried. "My baby! Is there something wrong with my baby?"
"I'm sorry, my lady," the midwife said simply.
Rosalie gave a strangled cry and tried to heave herself out of the chair. Her maids rushed forth to hold her in place. "No, my lady, you mustn't move yet!"
Bella took the baby from the midwife's arms and pressed her ear to the baby's chest. Then she did the oddest thing: she pinched his nose and put her mouth over his and blew a breath into him. She did this three more times and then there was a tiny choking sound from the baby, which turned into a full-fledged wail.
"God be praised," the midwife gasped in astonishment. She crossed herself and then pressed her hands to her cheeks in shock.
Rosalie sobbed, her arms outstretched. Bella wrapped the furious baby, whose face was returning to a healthy pink, in a linen towel and handed him to his mother
"Thank you, Bella," she whispered. "Oh, God ... thank you." She kissed the baby's tiny head over and over. "Thank you."
"What did you do?" the midwife asked in a tone of breathless awe.
"My home is by the sea," Bella explained. "I've seen those that drowned receive breath in that way and live, provided there is a heartbeat."
The midwife blinked and shook her head slightly in astonishment. "'Tis amazing," she said. Then it occurred to her that she had work yet undone and she turned back to Rosalie to help her deliver the afterbirth and then cut the cord. Rosalie resisted for a moment when the midwife took the baby from her to bathe him in the bowl of red wine that had been kept warm by the fireplace.
"Thank you, Bella," Rosalie said fervently. "You saved my baby after I tried to take yours from you."
Bella tilted her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"
But Rosalie didn't answer. She sobbed so hard that the chair beneath her rattled. Bella put her arms around Rosalie and held her while she cried. She hoped Rosalie wasn't getting the soul-sadness again that had afflicted her after Margaret's birth.
She helped the midwife wash Rosalie, dress her in a clean shift and put her into her bed with her baby (she had made the decision to feed her child herself, just as Bella had done) before she went to Emmett's chamber. She found him pacing the floor, his face white and tense. As soon as he saw her, he ran over and clasped her by her shoulders. "Is Rosie all right? Tell me!"
"She's quite well," Bella assured him. "You have a beautiful little boy."
"A boy?" he repeated. "A son? I have a son? I have a son!" He turned to Edward, his face split by a huge grin. "I have a son!"
"Yes, I heard," Edward said, his lips curling in amusement. "Congratulations, brother."
"Can I see her?" Emmett asked eagerly.
Bella thought that was a good idea, considering Rosalie's melancholy. "Go on. She'll be glad of it, I'm sure."
Edward was watching his wife closely. After Emmett closed the door behind him, he asked Bella softly, "What is it?"
Bella shook her head. "Something strange that Rosalie said, but it was probably just her senses being addled from the birth."
He nodded. "Women say strange things at such a time, or so I've heard."
Yes, that was probably it. She didn't know what she was saying. Bella snuggled against Edward's chest.
"I had to restrain him from drink," Edward said. He removed Bella's cap and unpinned her hair. It spilled into his hand like a dark waterfall and he stroked the shiny strands. It seemed to soothe him. "He was so afraid. She had a hard birth last time and he was anguished that he might lose her. 'Tis an awful thing to feel so helpless."
Bella snuggled closer to him. There were so many dangers in this world which could not be fought: politics, disease, childbirth ... All of them could take away that which was so precious. "We must, then, take time every day to be grateful for what we have."
"I do," Edward told her. "Every day, I thank God that I found you on that beach. I can't ever let you go, Bella. I'm sorry. I know I promised you - " He broke off and closed his eyes. "I just can't. I need you too much."
She was about to explain to him about the Binding created by making a promise to the fae-folk when there was a knock at the door. Edward sighed and stood Bella on her feet. "Enter."
"A letter for you, your grace," the messenger knelt on the floor in front of Edward and handed him the folded sheet of paper. Bella went over to the desk and fished out a coin for the man. She thanked him and directed him to the kitchen for a meal before he departed.
"It's from Jasper," Edward said. "He and Alice have a daughter, and they've named her for you."
"That's kind of them. A baby! Alice must be so happy. Has Jasper made his peace with leaving the church?"
Edward scanned the rest of the ext. "He doesn't say, but he doesn't sound as morose as the last time he wrote, so perhaps he's coming to terms with it ... Listen to this, he has already heard of Madame Denali's expulsion from Mary's court."
Bella supposed at some point she should stop being surprised at how swiftly gossip could travel, but it never ceased to amaze her.
"Mary's being laughed at all over Europe," Edward said. "Jasper says he saw a cartoon of a haggard hag chasing a buxom beauty from the palace with a broom."
She hoped Mary would never see that, but she knew it was inevitable. Sometime soon, she would be forced to confront it. People hid those cruel pamphlets where she wouldn't be able to avoid seeing them, inside her prayer book, under her pillow, on her chair, tacked on the door inside her garderobe ... She could not escape them, just as she could not escape the hard truths that she'd lost the love of her people, that the harder she tried to stamp out heresy, the more it flourished, and that her love for her unfaithful husband had made her the laughingstock of Europe.
Mary was a Queen, and in her veins ran the blood of generations of royals, a pedigree that stretched back for centuries. She held her chin high and squared her shoulders in public, but in her dark and lonely bedchamber, she wept like a bewildered child as every dream she'd ever had crumbled to ashes around her.
Rosalie was churched two weeks after the birth. They named the boy Charles after Edward and Emmett's father. Emmett, when he heard of how Bella had saved little Charles, asked her to be the godmother, and of course, Edward accepted the role of godfather.
"I wish I had a greater honor to offer you," Emmett said.
"Be a happy family, Emmett, and that will honor me more than any title ever could," Bella said.
Emmett nodded. He and Rosalie were heading back to Cullen Hall now that the baby had been born and Bess said she wanted to go back to Hatfield. Bella envied them that freedom, but it had come at a cost.
Mary had been deeply offended last year when Emmett refused her offer of a speedy annulment from his notorious wife, and she had banned Rosalie from her court. She'd threatened to annul the marriage anyway and have him charged with fornication, but Emmett had bravely stood his ground. He loved Rosalie, he told the Queen, and he lied boldly by saying he had married her knowing of her past. Christ forgave Mary Magdalene, he reminded her, and Rosalie had already done her penance, so why could she not be forgiven as well? But the Queen was not in a forgiving mood.
Whether Rosalie's impending confinement had reminded her, or whether she was motivated by her husband's need for money, none of them knew, but last week she had stripped Emmett of his title and lands. Edward had quietly purchased the property, for it adjoined his own estate and he did not want to see lands that had been in his family for generations go to another. Whatever the reason, Edward was disgusted by Mary's spite.
They were now simply "Lord Emmett" and "Lady Brandon", though most people still called them Lord and Lady Lisle. Emmett didn't bother to correct them. He didn't much care about whether or not he had a title, but he did regret its loss for his little son, who would only be known as "Master Brandon."
Since Edward could not restore Emmett's lands to him, he gave him the position of managing them, with a salary identical to the lands' yearly income. Emmett had tears in his eyes when Edward told him and they embraced, the past now forgiven, the rift between them healed completely. Jasper would be happy when he heard of it, Edward thought.
Bella and Edward watched the caravan of wagons disappear into the distance and then went back inside the house, holding hands. "Charles is a beautiful baby," Edward said, and Bella could detect a hint of longing in his words.
She put her arms around his neck. "If the Queen will let us leave after the king departs, perhaps we can start on another ourselves."
"I will talk her into it," he vowed, and then a wicked light came into his eyes. "Shall we practice the making of it?"
Bella pretended to consider. "I don't know. I'm pretty sure I know how it's done."
"But there are ways I have not yet got to try," Edward protested. He drew a line with his fingertip down her throat to the v-neck of her gown.
"Oh, all right," Bella said with a dramatic sigh. "I wouldn't want you to forget what to do when the time comes."
He scooped her up in his arms, careful of her farthingale, and strode through the hall toward their chamber.
"Your grace!" one of the servants called.
"Not now," Edward said. "Unless someone is on their deathbed, it can wait."
The servant smiled to see the Duke with the Duchess in his arms. "Aye, it can wait."
Inside, he carefully tossed Bella onto the bed (he wanted to play rough, but he could never actually be rough with her; it wasn't in his nature). Her hips laid over the edge, with her legs hanging down. He threw up her skirt and caressed the back of her bare thighs. "There is a flaw with this position," he announced.
"Hm?"
"I cannot see your face." He went to his cabinet and unlocked it with the key that always hung on a chain around his neck. (He wasn't going to risk anyone getting near Bella's pelt again.) He took out his precious glass mirror and handed it to her. "Tilt it toward me. A bit more. There." His voice roughened as he saw the heat in her hooded eyes. "Perfect."
His hand found that she was just as aroused as he was, but it wasn't enough. He wanted her wild, wanted her screaming, wanted her to be as frenzied as he felt.
He inched his way inside her, so slowly that she groaned in frustration, so slowly that she tried to ram her hips back, but he caught and held her with firm hands, one of which stayed to keep her in place, and the other slipped around to the front of her to rub slow circles, the accompaniment of his slow movements within her.
"Oh, God, please," she pleaded, and he couldn't bear to hear her beg. He pounded into her and got the screams he had wanted, though he had to look away from her reflected face in the mirror, lest he lose control too soon.
Afterward, he felt deliciously drained, as though he had poured his all, his heart and soul, mind and body, into her. He flopped down onto the bed, gasping for breath. Bella stripped off each bit of her dress that she could reach and then asked him for assistance with the rest. She crawled onto the bed with him, gloriously nude, and wrapped herself around his still-clothed body.
Maybe Mary would be so occupied with the war that she wouldn't mind them leaving, Edward thought. This is what he wanted: warm, lazy afternoons in which his beautiful selkie wife dozed beside him. He promised to make it happen somehow, no matter the price.
Chinese chroniclers would call it the "Broom Star." The English called it an omen, a sign of God's displeasure, a warning of a coming plague or even the end of the world. Bella shrugged and said it was a flying star. She'd seen many in her time.
It was the first comet Edward had ever seen and he was awed by it.
"What is it, do you think?" Edward and Bella were out on the beach after a midnight swim. The court had followed the Queen and king to Dover, where he was boarding a ship tomorrow to take him back to the Netherlands. Bella had wept for joy when she saw the sea again for the first time in more than a year. The midnight swims in the river were fun and refreshing, but nothing could compare to frolicking in the waves and finding a patch of fresh, juicy kelp.
They lay on their backs after she had returned to the beach, staring up at the night sky. Bella had her head laid over Edward's heart and its beats seem to match the cadence of the sea, a lullaby which could send her into lovely dreams. When she spoke, the drowsiness was evident in her voice: "The selkies say stars sometimes get lonely or fall in love with another star and so they move across the sky to be with them."
In Geneva, a man named John Knox took the comet as a sign of God's displeasure and published a pamphlet with the somewhat unwieldy title of "The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstruous Regiment of Women." To the Protestant Knox, Mary was not only a heretic, but allowing a woman to rule was an insult to God, a subversion of the natural order in which God had made women subservient to men because of their inherent inferiority in intelligence and wisdom.
"I like his metaphor here," Bella giggled when she and Edward read a copy that they'd found in the Queen's temporary chapel. "Putting a crown on her head is as unseemly as putting a saddle on an unruly cow. I can't wait to show this to Bess. She'll likely march straight to Geneva and wring his neck."
"We cannot keep it," Edward told her. "And in any case, I'd wager Bess has already read it." He took the pamphlet over to the fireplace and tossed it inside, waiting to be sure it was completely consumed before returning to bed with Bella. He had a suspicion that their chambers were being searched because he sometimes found things out of place without explanation. Even the small chest that held Bella's pelt had been opened, and he knew for certain fact that he would not have left that unlocked.
In the morning, the entire court went to the docks to wave at the king as he boarded his ship. He startled everyone when he did the kindest thing he had done for the Queen since his marriage to her: He kissed her lightly on the lips before turning to board his ship.
Mary pressed her fingertips against her lips and tears welled in her eyes. A year ago, two years ago, his action would have sent her into a wild frenzy of hope and joy. Now, it only seemed to make her sad.
The ship raised its sails and glided out of the harbor to the cheers of those waiting on shore, many for whom the enthusiasm was real and they cheered to see him leave England's shores. Mary stood on the dock, watching silently until her husband's ship disappeared over the horizon.
She would never see him again.
Historical notes:
- About the titles: 'Brandon' is Edward's family name in this story. His father was Charles Brandon, Duke of Cullen (in real life, he was duke of Suffolk.) The second son of a duke could be granted one of the duke's secondary titles, but without it, he would simply be "Lord Emmett." Rosalie, on the other hand, would be "Rosalie, Lady Brandon". She would never be called "Lady Rosalie." That's because Rosalie wasn't born with the title. Daughters of a baron or higher, would have the courtesy title of "Lady Firstname", but those who became ladies by virtue of marriage were called "Lady Lastname."
- The comet actually appeared in October. I've moved it to summer.
- John Knox published his pamphlet against the "Monstrous Regiment of Women" in the summer of 1558. His line about the "unruly cow" is printed in the appendix of the 1878 edition, in a letter to Queen Elizabeth, referring to Marie de Guise, who served as regent for her daughter, Mary, Queen of Scots.