Chapter Thirty-Eight
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Anne of Cleves died a little less than two weeks after the king had left the country. Bess was devastated. The letter she sent to Bella was nearly as tear-splotched as the ones she used to get from Mary.
Mary ordered that she be laid to rest in Westminster Abbey, her body to lie near the high altar. Neither Mary nor Princess Elizabeth attended, for royal protocol forbid it, but they made sure she had a funeral worthy of a Queen of England. Anne was brought into the abbey on a magnificent hearse covered with fine fabrics, cloth of gold and velvet, which was parked in front of the unfinished tomb after her coffin was sealed inside. Massive candles burned around it day and night and a wax effigy, dressed in one of Anne's gowns, sat atop it.
That night, the monks crept into the abbey and stole all of the fine fabrics from the hearse and gown from the effigy, which was thrown indifferently to the ground and shattered. Bess was infuriated when she heard of it and demanded that Mary do something, and though Mary promised an investigation, nothing ever came of it.
Bess ranted and raved about it when she returned to the house at Hampstead Heath. Bella thought that Mary's inaction made Bess even angrier than the despoiling of the hearse itself. She asked for, and received, permission to leave court, unable to stand to look at Mary without boiling over in anger.
In the morning, Edward and Bella took the children with them to court. Mary had said ti was time for them to be formally presented to her, an action which essentially made them part of the court life, polticially and socially relevant. Bella did not want to do it, but had no choice. That's what court life was about: having no choices.
They passed the line of courtiers waiting their turn to be presented, for a Duke and Duchess took precedence. They waited in the doorway to be called and Bella tried one last time to smooth down Ward's hair. It stuck out from under his little hat as if it had never even made a passing acquaintance with a comb.
Edward chuckled. "You're fighting a futile battle, my dear."
Ward was three years old now, a miniature of his father with his unruly Tudor-red hair and firm jawline, though his eyes were Bella's. As he entered the presence chamber, holding the hand of his older sister, those eyes were huge and solemn. He was wearing a little jeweled doublet with a surcoat trimmed in sable, hose and a little codpiece (which he had poked and giggled at the whole time they were in the litter) and a miniature sword belted on his side.
Little Elizabeth wore a smaller version of Bella's gown, white satin, covered in cloth-of-gold rosettes, each with a huge pearl in the center. The heavily embroidered underskirt was covered in swirling patterns of smaller pearls. Her brown curls flowed from under her bonnet down her back.
"The Duke and Duchess of Cullen, Earl of Portland and the Lady Elizabeth!" Mary's crier announced as they came through the door.
Ward jumped a little, but walked steadily up the center aisle behind his parents. Bella wondered what he must be thinking of the forest of courtiers that lined the aisle, all of them staring, some whispering, some glaring, some charmed and smiling, but every eye upon him.
Bella and Edward dipped into deep bows before the Queen and the children did the same. Little Elizabeth had practiced her curtsey dozens of times and executed it flawlessly. Ward poked himself in the stomach with the hilt of his little sword and stumbled. There were a few chuckles from the audience.
Mary's gaze was soft and tender. "Please, bring them closer," she said.
Bella nudged them both up the steps of the dais. Mary slid off her throne and sat down on the edge of the stairs, an action which caused shocked gasps to go through the room. Queens simply did not do such things in front of their courts. She must favor the children highly, the courtiers decided, and some of them began to think of gifts and overtures which might make the children feel fond of, or obligated to, them when they were adults taking their place among the court.
"Hello, Ward," the Queen said softly. "The last time I saw you, you were a little baby." She kissed his forehead. "Oh, how I wish you were mine." Her eyes sparkled with tears as she drew away.
"Don't cry, Queen," Ward said. He dug in his pocket and removed a lint-covered piece of candied orange, likely pilfered from last night's dinner, and held it out to her. Mary took it with a smile and put it into her own pocket. She turned to Ward's sister.
"Lady Elizabeth ... my, how you've grown! You are beautiful."
"Thank you, your majesty." Elizabeth curtseyed again.
Mary bid her to rise and kissed her on the forehead as she had done with Ward. "How are your lessons coming along, Lady Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth launched into an explanation of her studies, but she was interrupted by her brother.
"I have a sword," Ward told Mary and pointed to it. "But father tied it up so I can't take it out. I was bad."
Mary's lips twitched. "What did you do?"
"I shouldn't have cut the bed curtains," Ward recited. "So it's tied up until I'm 'spons'ble."
"I see. Your father is right, of course."
Bella saw little Elizabeth's shoulders droop with disappointment that the queen seemed more interested in her brother. It was a painful lesson she was slowly learning: people preferred little boys to little girls. Everyone but her parents seemed to think of an educated girl in the same way they thought of a lapdog that could do tricks: amusing, but ultimately worthless.
The courtiers eventually began to mingle among themselves when it became apparent Mary was going to continue talking with the children. There was nothing of interest or use in that, no secrets to be gleaned, no diplomatic options revealed, no information which could be used for blackmail.
It was only once the Queen said to little Elizabeth, "You'll be ready to be married soon," that the courtiers' attention was again engaged. The Duke's daughter would undoubtedly have a huge dowry and she was fifth in line for the throne.
"I don't want to get married," little Elizabeth declared. "I want to stay a maiden like Auntie Bess."
Mary chuckled. "You'll change your mind, just as I did, little one. Marriage is God's intended station for women, unless they are called to the church."
Little Elizabeth opened her mouth to object, but the Queen's attention had already gone back to her brother.
That night, Bella brushed Mary's hair after she had been undressed for bed. Bella was yawning herself and ready to go home to Edward's arms. He and Mary had a long conversation this afternoon and Bella was eager to know what had been said. Mary, so far, had offered nothing.
"Bella?"
"Yes, your majesty?"
"I have not had my courses since the king departed."
Bella caught her breath. Mary cupped her hands around her abdomen, and Bella saw that it was slightly distended.
"Your majesty ..."
"I believe I am with child," Mary said, and there was a stubborn gleam to her eyes. "Only one month along now. I'll wait until later, until after the babe has quickened before I tell Phillip, but I wanted you to know." She took the brush from Bella's lax fingers and clasped her hand firmly.
"I want you to read this." She handed Bella a folded piece of paper.
"Thinking myself to be with child in lawful marriage to my dearly beloved husband and Lord, although I am in good health, yet foreseeing the great danger which by God's has ordained to all women in childbirth, have thought good for order within my realm to declare my last will and testament ..."
She left her crown to her child, with Phillip as the regent until the child reached maturity, but it said nothing of what would happen should the child die along with her. Bella let out a breath she'd been holding.
Edward had told her that his secret fear was that Mary would try to do what her brother had done, that she would leave the crown to Edward as the Catholic heir. Edward did not know what Bess would do in that situation and he did not want to know. He had written out a renunciation of his rights to the crown which he and Bella and he carried a copy of everywhere they went. Just in case.
She read on. Aside from the regular bequests to friends and family, and masses to be said for her soul, she asked that a suitable tomb be erected to her memory and that the body of her mother, Katherine of Aragon, be exhumed from her humble grave and reburied next to her in an honorable tomb of her own.
To her husband, she left the diamond the Emperor had sent her as an engagement gift and said, "I leave to his majesty the love of my subjects, which is more precious than any jewel or inheritance."
She closed her eyes. Oh, Mary, you cannot bequeath what you do not own. She glanced at Mary's face to try to determine if it were a small jab at him or a little joke, though including either in a will seemed strange, but Mary's face was solemn.
"You should speak to Edward about this," Bella advised.
"I want to speak to you."
Bella laid down the paper. "What do you wish for me to say, your majesty?"
Mary gave a little laugh that sounded almost like a sob. "I suppose I wish for someone to be honest with me for a change."
"People fear to be truthful with you," Bella said.
Mary blinked. "Am I such a tyrant?" she asked. "I saw that in my father. He was surrounded by people who agreed with him every time he spoke. Yes, he should leave his wife of twenty years for a common trollop. Yes, he should break with a thousand years of Christian tradition and deny the pope's authority. Yes, he should force every man in England to take an oath that the Great Whore was the only true Queen and that he was the head of the church. Yes, he should behead the woman for whom he had cast aside his wife."
"Those who told him 'no' ended up like Thomas Moore," Bella said. "He believed whatever he wanted must be the will of God manifesting itself through him."
Mary winced. Bella supposed everyone wanted to think that what they wanted to do was what God wanted as well, monarchs especially.
Mary turned the simple gold band on her finger. "I was so happy. Do you, remember, Bella? My wedding day. It was the happiest moment of my life. It seemed God was smiling on me and that everything would go back to the way it was before that witch tore our nation apart. But now I look around me and things seem worse than they were before I took the throne and I don't know why -" Mary's voice cracked and she rubbed the tops of her fingers under her eyes to wipe away the tears.
"It's like her ghost is haunting me, taunting me, still working to destroy whatever I try to build. And I know that should I be lost in childbed and my babe not survive me, Anne Boleyn's daughter will undo everything I have done to try to set this country to rights."
"If nothing else, believe that Princess Elizabeth wants the best for England. She loves this country and its people and I truly believe she had good intentions."
"Her intention is to lead our people into damnation," Mary hissed. "If she should rule after me, do you believe she will continue my work to restore the church? Will she follow my instructions for bequests to the monks and nuns? Will she pay for the masses to be said for my soul?"
"I like to believe she would be kind enough to follow your wishes," Bella said.
"You always believe the best of people, Bella. I have leaned to expect the worst." Mary reached out and took Bella's hand in her own. Mary's skin was cold and clammy and she trembled slightly. "You're leaving, aren't you?"
"With your majesty's permission."
Mary released her hand and picked at the lace on one of her cuffs. "You're not made for court life. I see you when you come back from being away, your skin a healthy pink and your eyes lively, but the longer you are here, the more you wither, like a flower deprived of the sun. I am selfish, Bella. I would keep the people I love at my side, but I cannot keep you any longer. I love you enough to want you to be happy, even if it means I must let you go."
Bella hugged the Queen, and Mary closed her eyes as if savoring the feeling of another person's arms holding her. Bella thought how sad it was that Mary's life had so few hugs in it.
"Jane Dormer will be leaving me, too," Mary said softly when Bella drew away. "I've given her permission to wed the Duke of Feria when he returns with the king next time."
Bella felt a stab of pity that Mary believed there would be a next time.
Mary caressed her abdomen. "Will you return for my confinement?" she asked.
Bella nodded. "I will."
Mary gazed at her steadily for a moment. "You don't believe there is a baby, do you?"
"No, majesty, I do not."
Heat flashed through Mary's eyes but she spoke calmly. "I shall surprise you then."
"I hope that you do." She embraced Mary again. "I hope that you do."
Bella's heart sang with joy. They were going home! Finally, going home! Edward ordered that the house at Hampstead Heath be closed up, for they would not be returning to court for a long time, if ever.
Their ponderous caravan of wagons and servants and guards on horseback wound through the countryside. The people ran from the fields to wave as they passed, for the Duke and Duchess were well-known and well-loved for their charity. A few brave souls ran toward the litter itself, shouting their hardships and Edward always gave coins to his footmen to give to them.
Their litter was brought to the front entrance of Cullen Hall, where Rosalie and Emmett waited. Rosalie had her baby, Charles, in her arms, and she ran to kiss Bella as soon as she stepped from the litter. "Oh, Bella, I have missed you so!"
"I've missed you, too, Rosalie. My goodness, Charles has grown!"
"I always was the best nurse in the parish!" Rosalie bragged as she handed him over to Bella to hold. He was plump and healthy, unswaddled. He had Rosalie's blonde hair, but his face was pure Emmett. His little toothless grin even reminded her of the one she saw on Emmett's face as he proudly surveyed his son.
"He is very fat," Ellen praised and Emmett beamed at the compliment. Fat babies were thought to be the most hardy and well cared-for. Charles grabbed Bella's gold and garnet necklace and stuffed it in his mouth.
Little Elizabeth had shrieked with joy when she saw Margaret. She'd taken their parting hard and their reunion was joyous. Little Elizabeth seemed to view Maggie as a combination of daughter and little sister.
They walked into the house together and Emmett led them to the winter parlor. Ellen took the excitedly jabbering children upstairs to their chambers.
"A letter from Bess came for you," Emmett told them after they had taken seats around the table. There were no servants in the room and so he poured the goblets of ale for Bella and Edward himself, and then poured himself some small beer. Rosalie had a goblet of Rhenish wine. Cheese, bread and cold meats were laid out on a platter before them, which Edward attacked, and a serving of buttered parsnips for Bella, kept on a warming stone. Their caravan had to make an unexpected stop last evening to repair a broken wheel and they had to stay overnight in a very poor little inn that had nothing to serve them but a greasy mutton stew and stale bread, which Bella couldn't eat and Edward wouldn't.
"What does she want?" Edward asked around a mouth full of bread. He assumed, correctly, that Emmett would have read it.
"To tell you of the victory at Saint Quentin. From what she says, Mary is as proud as though she had led the battle herself. She sees this as a vindication, as proof that bringing England into the war was a good idea. She's happy because it was a quick and decisive victory without much bloodshed, but some of the king's forces set fire to the city and burned it to the ground. With people still inside."
Bella closed her eyes. More fire tied to Mary's name.
"She doesn't know that part, according to Bess," Emmett added. "But this is the truly interesting revelation: Spain and the pope are in peace talks."
"Good, then the war shall be over before it can do much more harm to our country," Bella said.
Edward shook his head. "Spain and the Pope may be settling their differences, but we still have a declared war with France."
"The French King said he knew it wasn't Mary's fault," Emmett said hopefully. "He blamed Phillip for pushing her into it."
"That doesn't mean he'll lay aside his arms," Edward told him. He raked his hand through his hair and sent up a silent prayer that now that Phillip had dragged them into this war, he wouldn't leave them to deal with the French all on their own. "I fear that this trouble is long from over."
Emmett snorted. "You're starting to sound as fatalistic as Preacher Jacob."
"Who?"
"Your old chaplain. They call him Preacher Jacob now, since he was cast out from the priesthood. He roams the countryside warning people that the return of Christ is imminent, as proven by that glowing thing in the sky, and the land must be purged of sin before gets here or we shall all pay for harboring the enemies of God. He's gaining a respectable following."
Edward's spine chilled. Was Jacob still dangerous? It was a situation that warranted close watch.
That fall, the harvest was bountiful and the people of England rejoiced. Finally, it seemed, God was showing mercy on their poor, beleaguered land. The peasants celebrated with feasts and bonfires. The time of hunger was finally ended. To the people's surprise, Bella and Edward attended their feats and dances and the Duchess actually danced with some of the farmers after learning the simple, sprightly steps so different from the stately, sweeping dances of the court.
Edward watched her spinning from partner to partner and he clapped along with the rest of the audience to keep time with the musicians. Her hair had fallen loose from its pins and spun out behind her in a dark fan and her face was flushed with laughter. He could see the sparkle in her eyes even from across the room and he knew they could never go back. He didn't believe, at this point, that Mary would punish them if they refused, but he would would stand up to her if need be. This is how Bella should look, alight with laughter, among people who loved her for the kind soul she was.
The harvest celebrations continued right up to Christmas. The children were now old enough to go out with Edward and Bella to help pick the yule log, though Ward floundered in the snow until his father picked him up to carry him through the darkened woods.
Edward had a faint memory of his own father and mother taking him out here and how magical it had seemed, an enchanted forest lit with torches, lights bobbing along as everyone searched for the perfect log. He wanted his own children to have memories like that. Christmas was even more enjoyable when they dedicated themselves to making it fun for the children.
Bella introduced them to "sliding," something Edward had never done. She had the carpenter build a wide board with a curved front and then she and the children rode it down the snow-covered hill. After she'd done it the first time with them, the children weren't afraid to do it themselves, though Elizabeth was warned to be careful with Maggie and Ward. Elizabeth gave them an indignant look, as though they had insulted her by insinuating she would ever allow her little brother and "her baby" to come to harm.
As they played, Edward saw how Elizabeth her brother, how she helped him when he needed it and rebuked him when that was needed, too. It comforted Edward to know that Elizabeth would always be her brother's stalwart defender but wouldn't hesitate to tell him when he was wrong. The next generation were well on their way, and Edward was so proud of them he felt like he could burst.
In the outside world, the New Year began solemnly when the French delivered a crushing blow against English morale. They captured the city of Calais, the last bit of English territory left on the continent, a city they had held onto for almost two hundred years. Like much of England, it was poorly defended, though Mary had begin to hastily fortify it once war was declared. It was too little, too late.
Mary was humiliated. As a monarch, it was the worst moment of her reign and it hurt her almost as badly as the humiliations she had experienced as a woman: her phantom pregnancy and the infidelity of her husband.
But here, here on the Cullen lands, all was well, their own little world, sheltered from the storm, a kingdom of love and happiness.
Bella had told him she'd promised to return for the Queen's confinement, but from what Bess had written to him, no preparations were being made. This time, only Mary believed that she really carried a child in her swollen abdomen. February passed and then March, and then June with no word from Mary, who was terribly grief-stricken, Bess wrote, because the still-spiteful pope had stripped Cardinal Pole of his status as a papal legate and ordered him to come to Rome to face charges of heresy. But Pole was too sick to travel, and Mary was shattered by the realization that he was dying, and then broken down anew by word that the Emperor was dead.
In July, Bella came to find Edward in his study. Wordlessly, she lifted his hand from his desk and laid it over her belly.
He dropped his pen and stared at her, open-mouthed, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Truly?" he asked.
"Truly," she said. "The Queen is not going to ask me to come back now, and I thought you'd be happy if I ..." she trailed off, made uncertain by the stunned look on his face.
He lurched out of his chair, threw his arms around her and kissed her as thought the fate of the world depended on it. Bella was gasping and panting by the time he drew back.
"Truly?" he asked again, and this time, she could see the gleam of joy in his eyes.
"Truly," she replied.
He buried his face in her neck and wept.
"I feel like I ought to be with her," Bella said, her voice pitched low for Edward's ears only.
They were in their bed and Edward was brushing the tangles from her hair after one of their midnight swims. They were alone in the room, as they always were on nights when they went down to the beach, but these were dangerous words.
Everyone knew that Mary was dying, but no one spoke of it. Bess said that Mary was gaunt and frail, the flesh stretched tight over her bones, her distended abdomen deflating again, as it had done during her previous "pregnancy." An intermittent fever made her skin flush bright and she began going to bed earlier and staying in it later until she was only awake for a few hours a day.
In September, Madame Denali negotiated a armistice between France and England, without the knowledge of the Queen. Phillip agreed to withdraw English forces from France, abandoning the small gains they had made in return for the French giving back the Duke of Savoy's lands. The war was over, and England was the greatest loser.
In October, Mary finally accepted that there was no babe in her belly, and she wrote a codicil to her will: Forasmuch as God has sent me no fruit nor heir of my body, I have thought it good, feeling myself presently sick and weak in body, my duty must be performed to my subjects to amend my will and testament ...
At this last, she could not bring herself to name Princess Elizabeth as her heir. The furthest she would go was to say that she wished the throne to be inherited according to the laws of the land. The daughter of Anne Boleyn, the Great Whore, would sit on the throne of England.
She sent Jane Dormer to Hatfield, to extract three promises from Princess Elizabeth: that she would uphold the Catholic faith, that she would take care of Mary's servants, and that she would pay off Mary's debts. Elizabeth agreed to it. She lied, just as Mary had lied when she promised not to force anyone to go to mass. Elizabeth could justify it to herself as a lie told to soothe a dying woman, but it was a lie just the same.
At the end of October, Bella was preparing a collection of warm clothes to distribute to the poor when one of the servants entered the room, trembling, eyes fastened to the floor.
"What is it?" Bella cried, alarm constricting her throat. Was it Edward? Oh, please, no, not Edward!
"Charles Swan is here to see you, your grace."
"Who?" Bella asked, her brows crunched together in confusion.
"The Sheriff, Charles Swan, your grace"
Oh, yes. Him. He had once arrested Anne Askew. "What in the world could he want?" Bella put aside the pile of clothing and went downstairs. At the door to the great hall, she paused, not understanding what she was seeing. Charles Swan had brought a contingent of armed guards with him and they all marched toward her as one.
"Bella, Duchess of Cullen?" Charles Swan asked. He was a tall man, swarthy as a Spaniard, as the expression went, with ink-black hair. His face was impassive as he spoke.
"You know I am," Bella said. "We've met." Albeit briefly, but he should remember her.
"I arrest you in the name of the Queen for charges of witchcraft and heresy."
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Historical notes:
- Effigies were statues of the dead person, crafted from wax or wood, made to look as much like the deceased as possible. Wax ones were often made from the person's death mask. (After the person died, they would smear plaster over their face and make a cast of it.) Henry VIII's father's and mother's effigies are still in Westminster Abbey. That of his mother, Elizabeth of York, is startlingly life-like. I will put a few images of them in my "Selkie Wife" album on my Facebook page. (You can find the link in my profile.)
- Anne of Cleves was not the only one of Henry's Queens to have problems after the funeral. Katherine Parr's body was interred in Sudeley Castle chapel, but over the next two hundred years, the chapel crumbled into ruins. In the late 1700s, the owner poked around in the ruins and found Katherine's coffin, which he opened. Reportedly, her body was in nearly pristine condition. He cut off a few locks of her hair and closed the coffin again. It was opened again a few more times over the next decade by curious people who wanted a peek at Henry's last Queen. In the 1790s, a group of drunken men opened the coffin and pulled Katherine's body out, danced around with it (and reportedly, one of them kissed her on the lips!) and then reburied it upside down. When the coffin was opened again in 1817, Katherine was nothing but a skeleton. The chapel was rebuilt and Katherine was given a fine tomb where she now rests in peace.
Some sources report that Mary had her father's body exhumed and burned. Henry had a grand and impressive tomb designed for himself, using parts of Cardinal Wolsey's tomb, which was confiscated after his fall, but it was never finished. In her will, Mary directed that a suitable tomb be built for herself and her mother, but doesn't mention her father, which some feel is evidence that she actually did have his body destroyed. However, the Victorians loved to dig up famous dead people and peek in their coffins. In 1813, the vault beneath the floor of St. George's chapel where Henry VIII and Jane Seymour are buried was opened. They reported seeing a skeleton with a beard.