I am so sorry for the delay in updating this story. I've been having trouble with stress, which led to a worsening case of writer's block, and my homeopath advised a break from the fandom. This chapter finally started to cooperate, and I hope that this means that the block is over.
Thank you so much for your patience and for your reviews.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
10th January 1542
Neither Anne nor Mary was able to attend Kitty's wedding to Culpepper.
They were able to take part in the wedding preparations, helping Kitty choose fabrics for her trousseau, which Anne had undertaken to provide for her, knowing that her cousin could ill-afford the expense, and to design her wedding gown, and make the countless little arrangements necessary, but they could not attend the ceremony itself.
Mistress Porter was adamant that Anne should stay in her apartment, even if she refused to stay in bed, and it would have been out of the question for Mary to attend, of course.
Although she had prayed that he would, her father had not relented and allowed her to leave the court before her condition was past hiding.
He preferred to leave her exposed to public ridicule than to do anything to help her, preferring to court the embarrassment of letting others know that his first grandchild would be born a bastard rather than take pity on his daughter and spare her further shame. Although he did not go so far as to make any kind of public announcement of her condition, it did not take long after their confrontation for her bump to grow so much that she could no longer wear her tight corset and stomacher to disguise the change to her shape, and anybody with eyes could see the change to her body's shape, and guess the cause. He also had not hesitated to pointedly remark to Ambassador Mendoza, within earshot of others, that his daughter had shamed him, and her kin.
Her father made it clear to her that, while she was to continue her duties in Anne's household without fail, attending her stepmother every day and performing whatever tasks Anne saw fit to command of her, without daring to make any excuse about feeling to unwell to work, she was not permitted to wander the rest of the palace or the gardens without permission.
Mary would have liked to believe that the prohibition was for her protection, that he did not want her to have to parade her shame before the whole court, even if she had to put up with the embarrassment of knowing that Anne's other ladies were whispering about her. However, she was realistic enough to know that it was more likely that he wanted to keep her confined to either her own rooms or to Anne's apartment to keep her from coming into contact with anybody who might sympathize with her, despite her shame, and feel that she was treated too harshly.
If that was the case, he need not have worried.
Even the Imperial ambassador had studiously avoided her, signalling that her cousin the Emperor had no intention of interceding on her behalf and insisting that, out of respect for his family's honour, a husband should be found for her and that she should be allowed to quietly retire from court, in the hope that, in time, her indiscretion would fade from people's memories.
It was likely that he would want to forget their tie by blood now, feeling embarrassed to think that he had once championed her and tried to advance her cause as her father's rightful heiress now that, to the eyes of many men, himself included she had proven herself so unworthy – though, if she was a man, nobody would think less of her if she left a small army of bastards scattered throughout the country, and they would never deny her her right to the throne for it.
Mendoza might once have been a friend to her mother, and might have wanted to be a friend to Mary under other circumstances, but he was not willing to champion her cause now.
Whatever her father's reason for restricting her access to the rest of the palace, Mary was happy not to venture out into the open court. She truly did not know which would be worse; the disappointment that those who had once supported her would feel when they saw the evidence of her fall from grace, and thought that their previous high opinion of her had proven so undeserved, or the smug, satisfied looks of her enemies now that they knew that she had done her cause as much harm as they had, if not more, and through her own folly.
Anne's father visited frequently after he learned of Mary's condition and, although he said nothing openly derisive – Mary suspected that Anne had warned him to treat her with at least a modicum of courtesy, and she wouldn't have put it past her to threaten him with eviction from her presence if he defied her – his gaze often drifted to her swelling belly, ill-concealed under the gown she wore, and each time he saw her, his mouth curved in a smug smile of triumph.
She imagined that he must have celebrated when he learned of her condition.
His grandson's claim to the throne became more secure by the day, as word of Mary's condition spread. She wouldn't be surprised if he was helping ensure that everybody in England knew.
Kitty was laced into her gown, and her hair was styled becomingly in Anne's apartment, under her cousin's watchful gaze. Her excitement was palpable, and she bounced from one foot to another as Nan Saville and Madge Shelton adjusted the train of her gown, looking more like a little girl, no older than Elizabeth, than a young woman who was about to be married. Unlike so many young women, whether they were ordinary Englishwomen or of noble or royal birth, she was to marry a man of her choosing, a man she loved and could look forward to living happily with.
She was lucky, and she knew it.
Not wanting any of her ladies to be deprived of the opportunity to join in the wedding festivities, Anne insisted that they should all attend the ceremony and the feast that the King commanded in honour of the young couple. "I insist." She said firmly when several of her ladies protested that they could not leave her. "I will have the Lady Mary for company, and Mistress Porter will make sure that I am well cared for." She managed, with some difficulty, to keep from pulling a face at the last part. Although she won the battle over whether or not she would be confined to her bed for the duration of this pregnancy, there was no escaping Mistress Porter's monitoring. "Go and enjoy yourselves, all of you, and remember that I will want to hear everything."
She waved them away, and they curtsied and withdrew. She suspected that they were not sorry to be compelled to attend the ceremony. Kitty and Culpepper's wedding would be a minor event, as court celebrations went, but it would still be a welcome change from their usual, quiet routine. Now that Anne was confined to her apartment until her child was delivered, they were obliged to share her confinement while they were attending her. Although nobody would dare to quarrel in front of her, it was no secret that some tempers were shorter than usual these days.
Even the usually placid Nan Saville had boxed the ears of a serving woman for her clumsiness when she knocked over the bowl of flowers in Anne's bedchamber.
Kitty skipped over to her side, bobbing a curtsey. "Thank you for everything, Your Majesty." She said earnestly, beaming when Anne motioned for her to bend forward so that she could kiss her cheek. "You have always been so kind to me, and I am grateful to you, truly I am."
Her uncle and step-grandmother had both drummed it into her head that she should consider herself blessed that her cousin had taken a fancy to her, and that she took an interest in her welfare, reminding her that she had little claim to such kindness, and that it could be withdrawn if she gave the Queen any reason to be displeased with her and with her conduct. The old woman seemed to view this as almost an inevitability when she first sent her to court, gloomily predicting that it would not be long before she betrayed her lack of learning, refinement and manners, proving to the Queen that she was unfit to serve in a royal household and being dismissed in disgrace, returned to Lambeth and the Dowager Duchess' charity.
Over the past couple of months, Uncle Norfolk also deemed it necessary to stress that she was especially fortunate that her brother's reckless affair with the Lady Mary had not cost her the favour of the King and Queen, as might very easily have been the case.
Uncle Norfolk told her that Charles had betrayed all of the Howards, and his siblings in particular, by bedding the Lady Mary, saying that it would not have been surprising if the King's anger over Charles' actions had led him to punish the whole family, for sharing blood with one who had offended him. Kitty would never have dared to openly contradict her uncle when he was in a temper, but she privately believed that he was worrying too much, and that the King would never punish innocent Howards because one of them made a mistake.
The King was always kind to her, and he never even spoke of Charles to her, so she was certain that he did not blame her for what her brother and the Lady Mary had done.
It was odd to think that she would soon be the aunt of the King's first grandchild.
Even if the King didn't want to own the child as his kin, everybody would know.
"I know you are, Kitty." Anne said gently. "Now hurry up, or you will be late for your own wedding." They could not start without her, of course, but the suggestion still sent Kitty hastening from the room, after a final curtsey. Anne sighed softly, finding it difficult to believe that it was little over two years since her uncle had asked her to find a place in her household for her young cousin, then a girl of noble blood but poor prospects, dependent on the patronage of more fortunate relatives. "That's the last time we will see Kitty Howard," she observed to Mary, "the next time we see her, she will be Lady Culpepper. It's a good match for her, thank God."
Mary nodded in response but said nothing.
It was no secret that, although Kitty and Charles were the grandchildren of a duke, and bore the name of one of England's great noble families, their father had not enjoyed an illustrious career at court, despite occasionally receiving posts thanks to the support of his kin, and he had died with nothing to leave his children but his debts. Anne's support, coupled with that of the King, had ensured that Culpepper's parents did not object when he asked for their blessing to marry Kitty, but even with the dowry Anne supplied for Kitty, and the knighthood and manor that the King bestowed on Culpepper as a wedding gift, she couldn't help but wonder if they were displeased with the idea of having Kitty Howard as their new daughter-in-law.
Her hands strayed to her stomach, and she felt her child stir within her, kicking gently.
She was realistic enough to know that it would be better if her child was a girl.
Whether or not a person viewed Mary as legitimate, it was impossible to deny that this child was a bastard, but that did not mean that her father would not view a grandson as a threat.
It was not unheard of for a bastard, or the descendent of a bastard, to try to seize the throne – though few dared to speak of it these days, Mary knew that her grandfather's claim to the English throne had come from a man born out of wedlock, although the Beauforts were eventually legitimised under the law – and, if there was any chance that a son of Mary's might one day grow to challenge Harry's claim to the throne, or that his children would challenge Harry's children, she knew that her father would not grieve if that son did not grow to manhood.
Even if the King did not order the child strangled in his cradle, Mary did not believe that the Duke of Wiltshire would hesitate to stoop so low, and if he did, she was sure that he would escape punishment for his crime. The King was unlikely to trouble himself by ordering an investigation into the death of a grandson that he would prefer was never born.
She could not imagine that there would be a man in England who would champion a daughter she bore out of wedlock as a potential heiress to the throne, so her father would have no cause to view his granddaughter as a threat to his adored son. However, while a bastard son might earn his living by learning a trade or a profession, and could do well for himself, particularly if he was afforded a good education, a bastard daughter's only future lay in marriage, or in service. These days, she no longer had the option of entering a nunnery, unless the King was prepared to allow her to leave the country to join an order in France or Spain.
What man of rank would wish to marry the bastard daughter of a woman whose father insisted that she too was a bastard?
Hot tears blazed scalding tracks down her cheeks before she could control herself, or ask Anne for permission to retire to her own rooms, where she could weep privately. Once she began to cry, she could not force herself to stop, much as she wanted to, not even when she felt Anne's arm slip around her shoulders and heard her stepmother's attempts to soothe her, speaking in the same kind, gentle tone that she would have used with Elizabeth or Harry if they were upset. She did not know how long she sat there, weeping, but she knew that Anne never pulled away from her.
When her sobs died down and her tears died out, Mistress Porter handed her a goblet of hot wine. Mary could smell that she had added herbs to it, and hoped they would not be bitter.
As soon as the midwife learned of her pregnancy, she insisted that Mary take the same daily tonics as Anne, and would not hear any arguments. Anne had advised that she do as she was told, her eyes as alight with mischief as a child's when she predicted that Mistress Porter would be prepared to force her tonics down their throats if they didn't take them willingly.
"Drink that, my lady." Mistress Porter commanded briskly, standing over Mary until she had drained the goblet. "I think you needed that, my lady." She said once she accepted the empty goblet from her, sounding gentler than Mary had ever heard her speak. "If you always try to keep your sorrows buried, they'll fester in your heart, and that will do no good to you or to your child." She did not wait for Mary to say anything in response before bobbing a curtsey and moving away from them to go about her duties, leaving them some privacy.
To her credit, Anne did not push her to speak about what was grieving her. She knew the cause of Mary's troubles perfectly well, and she refused to pretend that she didn't.
She simply waited in silence until Mary was calm before gently asking if there was anything she could do to help.
"I don't know, Your Majesty." Mary said in a soft voice, never moving her hands from her stomach. Her baby was no longer kicking her, but she could feel it turn gently inside her. "My father... I mean, His Majesty the King..." She amended hastily, thinking that, if his treatment of her was any indication, her father was not pleased to think that she was his daughter.
"Your father, Mary." Anne corrected her. "He may be acting like a stubborn fool, but he is still your father, and I believe with all my heart that he still loves you, even if it doesn't seem like it now."
It was truly a sign of how far they had come that she could comfort Mary with reassurances that Henry loved her.
When Henry first asked her to be his wife, she gave little thought to the little girl and little boy who would become her stepchildren once they were married.
The toddler Duke of Richmond died shortly afterwards, before she ever met the little boy, and Mary was away in Wales, living with her household at Ludlow Castle, for most of her courtship with Henry. She could count on one hand the number of times she saw Mary about the court in those days, and she never approached her to speak to her. At the time, although it frustrated her that Katherine refused to make matters easier for all concerned by yielding, and although she knew that Katherine's obstinacy was due, in large part, to her desire to preserve Mary's position as heiress to the throne, she harboured no ill-will towards the then-princess.
It was no fault of Mary's that she was the only surviving child of the union that Henry needed to dissolve in order to be free to marry Anne, nor was she to blame for the fact that her mother was so obsessed with the idea of seeing her as England's Queen that she refused to consider the idea of retiring to a nunnery, or accepting an honoured place at court as Princess Dowager of Wales, not even when the possibility that her daughter might be legitimised, and permitted a place in the line of succession after the children of the King's new marriage, was broached.
Her feelings changed after Elizabeth was born.
Much as she loved her daughter, and everything about her, it was undeniable that life would have been easier for her if Elizabeth was born a boy.
A son would have reassured Henry that he made the right choice when he decided to set Katherine aside and make Anne Queen in her place. A son would have shown the Emperor and the Bishop of Rome that Henry would not be easily persuaded to renounce his marriage to Anne when she was the one to give him the son he craved, and England the Prince of Wales it needed. A son would have won them the support of many of the English people who, despite the love they bore for Katherine and Mary, would rather look to a Prince of Wales as their future ruler than a Princess.
The arrival of a daughter heartened those who supported Katherine and Mary. Not only did they view it as proof that God would not smile on Henry's marriage to Anne, they also hoped that it would lead Henry to reconsider the wisdom of dissolving his union with Katherine and disinheriting Mary when, instead of having the prince he craved, he traded a princess fast approaching womanhood for an infant in the nursery.
She was never allowed to forget how much Henry loved Mary.
Her father was quick to remind her of her husband's affection for her stepdaughter, as well as the honours he lavished on Mary during her childhood, comparing his memories of the provisions made for Mary during her infancy with those made for Elizabeth, trying to gauge whether his second daughter was less cherished than the first. He feared that, if she could only bear a daughter, as Katherine had, there was a risk that Henry would prefer the daughter he had loved for many years to the new arrival, and if he did, the Boleyns could lose everything.
The last thing she wanted was to see Henry choose to honour his daughter by Katherine above their own child, so she was relieved when she saw that he had no intention of allowing Mary to enjoy the honours due to a princess – though she was apprehensive when he indicated that he intended to place her in Elizabeth's household – and when she learned that Henry never spoke to Mary when he visited Elizabeth's establishment at Hatfield, and frightened when he chided her for worrying about Elizabeth's future marriage when Mary was not yet betrothed.
Now, she wanted to see Henry and Mary reconciled, for both of their sakes, as well as the sake of the innocent child in Mary's womb.
"He is so angry with me." Mary bit her lower lip to keep fresh tears from flowing. If Anne knew anything of what her father had planned for her and for her baby, she needed to know sooner rather than later. "I know that what Charles and I did was wrong, but that's not our baby's fault. Our baby is innocent, and shouldn't be punished for what we did."
Jesus commanded that the little children be allowed to come unto him.
That story was one of Mary's favourites when she was a little girl.
She had never heard or read anything to indicate that Jesus made any inquiries about the parentage or the legitimacy of those children before he gathered them around him.
"You're worried about what will happen to your child after it's born." It wasn't a question. Anne had never been in Mary's position, but she came close enough to it when she was pregnant with Elizabeth, before Henry was able to marry her, to be able to sympathise with Mary now. She wished that she could promise Mary that, by the time she gave birth to her child, Henry's anger towards her would have cooled enough that he would be able to make arrangements for her and for the child to enjoy a comfortable life. There could be no question of Mary raising her child at court; in the future, they might be able to visit but, in the immediate aftermath of the birth, it would be better if they left and lived quietly in the country for a few years at least.
The last thing she wanted was to give Mary false hope by speaking of it, in case she set her heart on it and was distressed if it didn't happen, but she had not given up on the idea of persuading Henry to allow Charles to return to be a husband to Mary and a father to their child.
Once their own child was born, she hoped that she would be better able to convince Henry that it was in everybody's best interests if, instead of continuing to punish Mary for her mistake, he recognized that it was more important to see to it that his innocent grandchild did not pay the price for her parents' actions, and that he or she should be allowed to have their father. If she gave him a Duke of York, she imagined that she would have a good chance of convincing him, especially if Mary's child was a girl, and thus no threat to the line of succession.
"I don't know what will happen to my baby." Mary sniffled miserably. "If my father won't help us..."
"I will." Anne pledged, determined that even Henry would not keep her from doing this. "Whatever your father decides, I promise that I will help you and your child."
She had countless manors at her disposal, any one of which would be a fine home for Mary and the child, and she had no shortage of money at her disposal. They would be well-taken care of and, when the child was older, she could dower a girl richly or deed estates to a boy.
Henry's grandchild would never be left destitute while she had the power to prevent it.
"Thank you." Mary's gratitude was heartfelt.
There was not a doubt in her mind that Anne would keep her promise, and while she was still worried about how her father would react to his grandchild, and how he would deal with them both, the weight on her shoulders was lightened by the assurance that she and the baby had at least one person they would be able to count as their friend and champion.
Whatever else Anne might have done, she would always be indebted to her for this.
27th January 1542
Some of Elizabeth's maids-in-waiting didn't believe that she was old enough to remember what it was like before Harry was born.
She was a very little girl then, not even three, and she knew that some children her age couldn't remember back to when they were that young but she could.
Before Harry was born, Lady Bryan, who was still her governess in those days, always told her that it was very important that she should pray every day for the Queen, her mother, to bear a Prince, who would be King of England after her father. They said prayers in the chapel at Mass every morning, and at the prayer desk in the nursery before Elizabeth went to bed. God listened to all of the prayers that Elizabeth, Lady Bryan and Elizabeth's attendants said, and he sent Harry to her Mama. Elizabeth was very pleased to be able to tell her Mama about their prayers.
She never told her Mama about the things she heard her attendants whispering, late at night when the nursery was illuminated by just a few candles to chase away the darkness.
They whispered amongst themselves that it was Mama's last chance to give Papa a son, and although she never heard them say what they thought would happen if the baby was a girl instead of the boy that they were all praying for, Elizabeth somehow knew that they thought that, whatever was going to happen to her Mama, it would not be a nice thing. She was worried that something nasty might happen to Mama so she prayed extra hard and was very, very happy when Papa woke her and told her that she had a new baby brother.
Now that she was a big girl of eight years, she knew the reason why she was supposed to pray that her Mama gave her a baby brother instead of a baby sister.
Elizabeth was the Princess of England and, when she was a tiny baby, the King and Parliament decreed that she was to be her Papa's heir if she had no brother, but nobody really wanted the heir to the throne to be a princess. Given the choice, they would rather have a Prince of Wales who would be King one day, and because of this, Harry became the heir to the throne as soon as he was born and she was second in line to the throne, even though Elizabeth was the oldest. If her Mama bore another prince to be Duke of York, he would become second and Elizabeth third.
Edward and Mary didn't count because they weren't a prince and princess.
Because there was already a Prince of Wales, it wasn't as important that the new baby would be a Duke of York but Lady Bryan and Kat both stressed that Mama and Papa would be very happy if they could have a boy – though a girl would be a blessing too – so they all prayed for one.
Harry fidgeted by her side as they said their prayers in the chapel. He was usually very good about being still and quiet when he was supposed to but he wasn't even six yet, so it was difficult for him to be good for a long time. When he was very small, he used to try to whisper to her when he was bored during Mass but Elizabeth never whispered back. She knew that it was part of her job as Harry's older sister to set him a good example, so that he would see how he ought to behave, and she must never, ever encourage him if he was misbehaving.
She knew without looking at him that Robert was also tired of saying his prayers.
He was even worse at behaving himself in the chapel than the very little children were.
When Mass was over, Harry slipped his plump hand in hers as they walked out of the chapel, whispering to her that they should go outside to the garden to play. Elizabeth was happy to agree so they, and their companions, all filed outside, with their governesses and attendants following. Lady Bryan walked quite close behind them, making sure to keep a very close eye on Harry, but Kat knew that Elizabeth was a big girl now, and that she could be trusted to behave as a princess should, even if her governess walked further back and couldn't listen to what she said.
"When will our baby brother be here?" Harry asked, a frown creasing his brow. It seemed like a very long time ago that Lady Bryan told him that Mama hoped to give them a new brother, and he was looking forward to having somebody new at Eltham to play with, even though babies were very small and stupid when they were born, and couldn't play games until they were bigger.
"In a month, or maybe a little later." Elizabeth wasn't certain how babies were made, and didn't entirely believe the things that Robert, who thought that he knew everything, had told her on the subject, but she asked Kat, and Kat told her that the baby was expected at the end of February or the beginning of March. It would be alright if the baby came a little earlier than that but if it came too early, it could be dangerous, as it wouldn't have had enough time to grow strong.
Elizabeth asked her how strong the baby would be if it didn't come until April, or maybe even May, but Kat just smiled, shook her head and said that that would never happen.
"And it will be a brother for us, not a sister?" Harry wasn't sure how he felt about this. He was his Mama's little boy, her special son, and he didn't relish the prospect of sharing her with a baby brother. Lady Bryan told him that, even if Mama bore a Duke of York, Harry would still be the Prince of Wales and the most important boy in England but he wasn't sure that he believed her.
She might just be trying to make him feel better.
He didn't want Mama to have a baby boy if she was going to love him best and forget about Harry... but he didn't want her to have a baby girl, either, if it meant that Lilibet was forgotten.
"Nobody can know if whether we will have a new brother or a sister until the baby is born." Elizabeth told him, glad that she knew the answer to his question. She didn't like it when Harry asked her a question and she didn't know the answer, especially when she had to ask Robert for the answer because the governesses wouldn't tell her. She liked Robert, and enjoyed playing with him, but she thought that he became far too pleased with himself when he knew something and she didn't. "They just want the baby to be a boy."
"Oh." Harry didn't think that this was very fair to the poor baby. If it was a girl, people would be sad about that and then they wouldn't be as happy as they should be when she was born. "Why?"
"Because Papa wants to have two princes, if he can," Elizabeth explained. "He was King for a very long time without having a Prince of Wales to be his heir, and even though he has you..."
"He has you too." Harry cut in loyally.
Elizabeth gave him a smile for this before continuing. "He'd still like another boy, if he can have one, so that there are two princes and one princess instead of just one of each." She didn't want to be the one to explain to Harry that people wanted Papa and Mama to have another prince in case something happened to Harry before he could be King. That would frighten him.
"What about Edward?" He asked curiously. "If Mama gives Papa a new princess, could Papa let Edward be a prince if he wants to have two?"
"No." Elizabeth shook her head decisively. "Edward can't be a prince because he's not Mama's son. He's a lord instead, but he wouldn't ever be allowed to become King. That's the law." She added hastily, before Harry could ask her why and she had to tell him that she wasn't sure.
Harry nodded, even though he didn't fully understand.
The matter of Edward, and of his very oldest sister, the Lady Mary, was a very puzzling one and nobody seemed to be able to explain it in a way that made it easy for him to understand. When he was a big boy of six, and he had a proper tutor to teach him his lessons – somebody who would know a lot more than Lady Bryan, or even Kat, did – he would ask him to explain things.
"Do you think that Mama wants a baby boy more than she wants a baby girl?" He asked.
"Lady Bryan and Kat say that she wants a baby boy most of all, but I think that she'd be just as happy to have a baby girl." Elizabeth was sure of that. People might think that boys were the most important of all, but she never felt as though her Mama or her Papa loved her any less than they loved Harry, and she was sure that the new baby would be loved to, even if it was a girl.
"Good." Harry was pleased to know that his Mama would welcome the baby but, after a few moments, a frown creased his brow. "It's not fair, Lilibet." He announced.
Elizabeth raised a surprised eyebrow at her brother's pronouncement. "What's not fair?"
"When the baby is born, I'm going to be its big brother but you get to be my big sister and the baby's big sister too."
"But you get to have me for a big sister," Elizabeth countered, "I don't have a big sister... not a proper one, anyway." She amended, thinking of the Lady Mary. It was difficult to believe that the Lady Mary, who was so kind to her when she was very small, and who always played games with her, had tried to hurt her Mama and Harry but Elizabeth couldn't allow herself to forget this.
"That's true." Harry agreed, cheering up at the thought.
He thought that he was a very lucky boy to have a big sister like Lilibet, and he decided that, when they baby was born, he or she was going to feel just as lucky to have him for a big brother.
He just hoped that he didn't have to wait toomuch longer to be a big brother.
10th February 1542
Mary's labour pains began shortly after midnight.
She did her best to bear the pain in silence at first, remembering what she had heard Mistress Porter and Anne's ladies say about women who endured false pains that they mistook for the pains of childbirth – if Madge Shelton was to be believed, Anne suffered false pains no fewer than three times before her labour with Harry truly began – and not wanting to rouse Joan or Mistress Porter if she was not truly in need of their services. However, as time dragged on and her pains became more frequent and more severe, she could not suppress her cries of pain.
Joan was by her side so quickly that Mary wondered whether her maid had taken to sleeping half-dressed so that she would be ready to run to her at a moment's notice.
"How long ago did the pains begin, my lady?" She asked, placing her work-roughened hand in Mary's. "Squeeze it as hard as you like, my lady, it won't bother me a bit."
Mary was grateful for the support as the next wave of pain tore through her, leaving her gasping for breath by the time it passed.
She knew, of course, that God had decreed that, as punishment for Eve's disobedience, women must suffer when they brought their children into the world but, until tonight, she had no known how much a woman must suffer in order to become a mother, and she couldn't help but wish that God had chosen a less severe punishment for Eve.
How strong her own mother must have been to endure this seven times!
Once the pain passed, Joan gently extracted her hand from Mary's grip and hastened to the door. Mary could hear her commanding a servant girl to fetch Mistress Porter without delay, sharply forbidding her to dawdle unless she wished to be reported to the Queen in the morning.
It was a sign of the fact that Anne was known to have taken Mary under her protection that this threat was enough to send the servant scurrying in search of Mistress Porter as fast as her legs could carry her, returning with the midwife in a matter of minutes, and deferentially asking Mistress Porter and Joan if there was anything else that they needed fetched.
"Go down to the kitchens, and tell them that we need hot water sent up at once, and red wine. Then fetch clean linens." Mistress Porter ordered, thankful that there was a plentiful supply on hand. "Is there soap?" She asked Joan. When Joan nodded, indicating the washstand in the corner, where a jug of water and a cake of soap were laid out for Mary's use, she moved to wash her hands carefully before donning a voluminous white apron. "I learned that from a friend of mine, my lady," she told Mary conversationally. "She had fewer mothers take fevers after bearing their babies than any other midwife I know, and she told me that the secret of her success was a good bar of lye soap. She swore by it, and it's worked very well for me too."
Mary nodded, although she was only half-listening to Mistress Porter's words.
She was sure that the midwife must be one of the best, if she had been trusted to take care of Anne during her confinements, and based on what she knew of Mistress Porter's nature, she was sure that she did not need to worry that the woman might have accepted a bribe from the Duke of Norfolk or the Duke of Wiltshire to see to it that her baby was not allowed to live long.
Her pains came hard and fast after that, and she was scarcely aware of the passage of time. She could feel Joan's hand in hers, and took comfort from her maid's presence, glad to have somebody by her side who thought kindly of her, and she could hear Mistress Porter's encouraging words, but she didn't know if minutes or hours or even days passed while she laboured.
At one point, when her pains were at their most severe, she thought that she could see her mother standing by her bed, looking down at her.
She was afraid that she would see disappointment in her mother's eyes, sorrow that her daughter should have fallen so far from grace and that her grandchild was to be born in the dead of the night, with only a midwife and a maid in attendance, instead of the small army of ladies who would have been present to welcome a legitimate royal child into the world, but she did not.
Her mother's smile was warm and compassionate, and Mary was sure that the tears in her eyes were tears of joy and welcome for her grandchild.
She imagined that, while Joan held one of her hands in hers, her mother held the other, squeezing gently and encouraging her to be brave, to think of the baby she would soon hold in her arms.
"Nearly there, my lady," Mistress Porter told her encouragingly. "I can see the head crowning. A few strong pushes will do the trick, there's a good girl."
Taking a deep breath, Mary pushed with all of her strength, feeling something slide between her legs and into Mistress Porter's waiting hands. A quick slapping sound was followed by a wail of indignation from the newborn infant, who was far from pleased to be forced into the world.
"It's a girl, my lady," Mistress Porter announced, saying an inward prayer of thanksgiving that the child was female and healthy. "You have a fine little daughter." She busied herself cutting the cord that connected mother and child, passing the infant to Joan to be washed and wrapped in the embroidered shawl laid ready for the birth before she delivered the afterbirth.
Mary struggled to sit up, and Mistress Porter hastened to her side to help lift her into a sitting position and prop her up with pillows. Despite the ordeal of labour, she didn't feel tired.
"I want to see her." She insisted, determined that she would not allow Mistress Porter or Joan to persuade her to rest first.
"Of course you do, my lady," Mistress Porter smiled at her, patting her shoulder in a kind, if overly familiar manner, and then beckoning to Joan to bring the clean and swaddled baby over. She took the baby from Joan and clucked soothingly at her in order to silence her whimpers, pleased to see that the child's colour was good. "Here she is, my lady; your new daughter."
Tears brimmed in Mary's eyes as the warm bundle was laid across her arms but she brushed them away with an impatient finger, determined not to weep. She wanted to maintain her composure, to behave with the dignity befitting a princess while there were others present, but she couldn't keep a smile from spreading across her face when her daughter opened her blue eyes and looked up at her, as though studying her face, before closing her eyes again and dozing off, safe in her mother's arms.
The past months – no, the past years – had been difficult for her, and she did not doubt that there would be other difficulties to face in the future but, for now, there was no room in her heart for anything but the love she felt for her baby.
"She's beautiful, my lady," Joan breathed in awe, echoing Mary's thoughts.
"That she is." Mistress Porter agreed.
"Do you know what you'll call her?"
The baby's surname would undoubtedly be a subject of debate, once the inhabitants of the palace learned of her arrival. Mary knew that there was no way that her father would consent to his illegitimate granddaughter bearing the Tudor name but she was equally certain that the Duke of Norfolk would not want her to be a Howard, would want to distance his family from her as much as he could. She would probably be Fitzcharles or Fitzhoward, in order to signify her bastard status.
Her Christian name was another matter.
Mary knew that there was only one name that she could give her daughter.
14th February 1542
"Her name is Katherine." Kitty, who currently preferred to answer to her married name of Lady Culpepper, announced to Anne, carefully balancing her tiny niece in her arms. "Katherine Fitzhoward. After the Lady Mary's mother and after me." She added proudly.
The baby had just been christened in the chapel, with Anne's chaplain baptizing the child and standing as her godfather, while Kitty and Joan were godmothers. Knowing that the Queen wished to see the baby, but was not allowed to leave her apartment, Kitty begged Mary for permission to bring baby Katherine for a visit after the christening, promising that she would keep her no longer than a few minutes and that she would bring her back safely afterwards.
Anne smiled at Kitty's enthusiasm, glad to see that her cousin welcomed her new niece, and inwardly congratulating Mary for saying that Kitty was also the child's namesake. Henry would certainly prefer to believe that Mary named her daughter for Kitty than for Katherine, even if everybody else knew where the child's name came from. She held out her arms for the baby, who seemed content to be passed from person to person and who settled into Anne's arms without a whimper of protest, kicking happily against the confining folds of her long christening robe.
Katherine Fitzhoward was a beautiful baby.
She was slightly small, having arrived a little earlier than expected, but her tiny limbs were sturdy and her hands and feet were plump, her cheeks rounded. Her skin was pink and healthy. To Anne's relief, her eyes were so light a blue that she was certain that they would stay blue, and the downy hair covering her small skull was blonde, rather than dark like her grandmother's.
Anne imagined that the child must take after her York ancestors, who were fair, and she was thankful for this. If there was to be any chance of Henry softening towards his granddaughter, it was better that she did not resemble the Dowager Princess too strongly. He would be more inclined to be kind to baby Katherine if he could tell himself that she took after his ancestors.
She allowed the baby to grasp her finger in one hand, planning where she would send mother and baby, once Mary was strong enough to travel. Hanworth seemed like the best option but she intended to discuss the matter with Mary before she made any decisions, and she also hoped that she would be able to persuade Henry to soften his stance towards his daughter and granddaughter before they left Whitehall, in which case he might want to make arrangements for them.
As she was musing about what the future would hold for Mary and baby Katherine, a cramping pain tore through her lower body, wrenching a gasp from her lips.
"Your Majesty!" Kitty cried, alarmed.
"Take the baby, please, Lady Culpepper," Anne instructed through gritted teeth, relinquishing the baby to Kitty. "Bring her back to the Lady Mary, and tell Mistress Porter that I need her."
"You mean... are you..."
Anne managed a thin smile. "Little Katherine is about to have a new aunt or uncle."
TBC.