Chapter 19

Whitehall Palace

London, England

January 1, 1537

The palace was decorated with red and green throughout and music filled every hallway. It would be the last time they would have festivities for the next three months and the first thing to celebrate since the execution of Thomas Howard. Once they reached the anniversary of the late King Henry, the court would go into mourning. They would do this annually, for the next four years, when they held the coronation for the living King Henry. No expense was withheld, especially with the court filled with three, young princesses vying for the hand of the Dauphin. It had seemed like a practical idea on paper, and King Francis was fine with the plan, but now it seemed more awkward than anything.

It did not help that Anna of Cleves brought her cousin, Philip, Duke of Palatinate-Neuburg, who became over friendly with the Princess Mary. Mary was still being courted by the Duke of Beja, who left shortly to retrieve his sister, María, Duchess of Viseu. He returned to find Mary dancing with the Duke, who had wasted no time trying to familiarize himself with the Princess. Anne was beginning to worry that she would back out of the negotiations with the Duke of Beja, but when she confronted Mary about it, she confided her religion could never permit her to wed Philip.

Prince Francis seemed beside himself, not fully understanding what to do with the attention being paid to him. Anne had secretly been hoping he would be swayed by the Duchess of Viseu giving a double marriage to the alliance, but the girl seemed… too extreme and demanding for the sweet, sober dauphin. He seemed to have nothing in common with Anna of Cleves, who seems to have been bred to be the perfect wife, with little education past what was needed for her to manage her husband's household, and she speaks only German. Christina of Denmark, the Dowager Duchess of Milan, had refused to come, stating loyalty to the Emperor forbade her from making the journey.

The only other match seemed to be Sophia of Poland. Anne hadn't seen the two interact much, but it always seemed to be positive when then did. From her own conversations with the young woman, it was more from a desire to not embrace the conflict of fighting for the dauphin's attention, than from disinterest. They both enjoyed reading, horseback riding, and astrology, and they had common ground of both coming from large families. François was mostly in the attention of María of Portugal, but it would not surprise Anne if he asked for Sophia's hand.

Anne sat upon the dais watching it all, rubbing her barely showing belly through the thick, velvet gown of green she was wearing. There was an air of sadness to her, though she was smiling. Her thoughts are plagued with ill-suited concepts. This was her first holiday season without the late King Henry in a decade. Her first while married to Francis, who was celebrating the holidays at his own court. The last time England will have peace. For all she knew they would still be at war this time next year. She tried to focus on the merriment of court, and the blessings she still had in her life, but it seemed futile.

Instead, she continued watching the court. Her sister was dancing merrily with her husband, as were her parents. She was watching them spin around when her silence was interrupted by Thomas Cromwell who had just joined the party. "Is something plaguing you, your majesty?"

"Only my own unhappiness, Master Cromwell, nothing to be concerned with," she gave a sad smile. "Though I cannot say the same for you, sire. What is wrong?"

Cromwell's face twisted in displeasure, "It has begun your majesty. The Emperor invaded the Protestant states in his territory, just as we predicted, if not earlier than anticipated."

Anne nodded, "assemble the council. We have decisions to make. Have a message sent to the ambassadors that we will be with them shortly."

Anne stood and walked to where Princess Mary was dancing with the Duke of Beja. "I apologize to your highnesses. I need to borrow Mary for a while."

He nodded, bowing to them both and leaving for Anne to escort her to the council chamber. Mary whispered to her stepmother, "what's happened?"

"We are at war," Anne said as they entered the chambers to wait for the council.

The next few days were frantic as they prepared to move their men and to coordinate their allies. Luckily they had planned for it, and they simply needed to let the pieces fall where they may. Anne was sitting in the Presence Chamber when the Duke of Beja entered. He bowed deeply, "your majesty, I would like to help."

"How would you do that?" Anne asked, "you are not authorized to do so by your brother."

"I am not authorized to fight on your behalf but I have plenty of knowledge from running the Portuguese navy under Charles V, I can help strategize," the Duke said determinedly.

"I wish it could be so simple, your highness," Anne sighed, "but my generals will never trust that you are not trying to sabotage us. They will argue this is your true intent, and that you are here on behalf of the Emperor."

"What can I do to change this?" Luís countered.

"Until the treaty is signed, not much," Anne responded.

"When will it be ready?" He demanded.

"As soon as we discuss and sign it. I have been too busy to do so," Anne told him.

"Then we will sign it. I will wed Mary, and then I will help you defend my wife's homeland," He stated as though it were so simple. It was, but gaining English trust was not that simple. It was a start though.

Anne gave him a nod of approval. She turned to a page, "Fetch me Princess Mary. She should be here for this. Everyone else out."

Everyone but Cromwell scuttled out of the room, knowing he was needed for this meeting. He shifted his paperwork around to ensure he had everything. The regent and the duke did not move from their positions as Mary came fluttering into the room, flanked by her ladies: Margaret Douglas, Francis Alymer, Catherine Howard, and Anne Bassett. Her pastel blue dress swung around her as she stopped, "You summoned me, your majesty?"

"We are about to review and sign the alliance with Portugal, which includes your marriage. I thought you would like to be present," Anne smiled.

Mary nodded and took a seat next to Anne. Cromwell placed a copy in each of their hands, keeping the one they would sign to himself. They reviewed the details of trade, exploration, and the details of Mary's dowry. She would be given the Earldom of Bedford as a hereditary title to pass onto her children, since her Duchy of York was only during her lifetime, and ensure the Princess has financial independence. Portugal would also give her some lands upon the marriage, which would be absorbed by her husband's Dukedom upon the ascension of their heir.

When he finished he asked if there were any objections. There were none, seeing as this treaty had already been harshly negotiated. Cromwell set the treaty on a board, dipping the quill for them to sign. Then it would be sent to Portugal for the King to sign as well, though he would be too late if he had any objections. Mary and Luís were to be wed in just a few days, just in time for the document that would arrive in Portgual.

Mary left the room giggling with her ladies about the wedding. Luís peered at Anne, who simply nodded, "Cromwell, please show Prince Luís to the Duke of Suffolk's rooms. I believe they have much to talk about."

With that, the men left Anne to her thoughts. She pulled the letter she had hidden beneath her dress.

Anne,

I must admit, I miss you. I wish I could be there to watch you grow big with our child. I wish to also witness my son falling in love. If he should ask for permission to wed the Princess Sophia, I grant it happily. I am proud of you, my Queen. The treaty with Portugal is a surprising victory with us. My armies are prepared, and I am preparing myself for what I have to do. I ask one favor of you first. When Spring first hits, meet me in Calais and dispatch me off to battle, as a proper man and wife. I wish to see your face before I face the tragedies of war.

Forever yours,

François

Anne sighed, not knowing if she should go to Calais to meet her husband. For one, she will be fat with their child, and close to the beginning of her confinement. It would be a delayed and dangerous journey. There would also be much to do around here, she would be needed in London. Finally, she would be mid mourning of Henry. She did not know if her heart could handle breaking it once again for his rival. Everything in her head told her she should say no, but then there was a petite voice telling her to meet her husband.

She folded it back up again, ushering in the next set of nobles who were there to see the Queen. It was her cousin Madge Shelton and Sir Henry Norris. She smiled at the giddy expression on her cousin's face and the new ring glittering off the finger she had wrapped around her companion's arm, knowing full well why they were there. They showed her the proper courtesies and Anne bid them to rise, "Hello, Baron Lisle and Lady Shelton, how may I help you both today?"

The council rewarded many of those who had been close to the late King, a few extinct lower titles, for instance, the Barony of Lisle to Sir Norris. The man held his shoulders back, "I once asked your permission to marry your sweet cousin Madge. It took me some time to gather the courage, but I have done so. We ask you to bless our union."

"I would be overjoyed to do so," Anne smiled, swallowing the memory of her accusation of Sir Norris of harboring feelings for herself instead of Madge, "you ensure you care for my dear cousin, sir, she is a special one."

Her Majesty swallowed the lump in her throat as jealousy for the ease these two love birds have threatened to spill out. She was torn between two husbands, one who lives and breathes, and the one who haunts her day and night. They were ushered out and Anne was finally allowed to attend to other matters. It did not seem to matter though, everywhere she looked there were couples. Some fighting. Some flirting. Others were simply enjoying a stroll together. Finally, she isolated herself in her chambers, ordering all men out. Sitting at her desk, she started going through paperwork.

Slowly, the thought came to her mind. It was a pinprick in the drone of her tedious work. This was his desk. Anne had been occupying the King's chambers until her son was old enough to do so himself. She had done it for the message it sent to the court. Everything she did sent a message, but it had also been easier to keep his paperwork and books in his room. Now she looked around and sensed herself swallowed by the essence of Henry. Suddenly she stood, storming out into the main room. She spotted her sister and summoned her to her side, "Mary, I need you to have the Queen's lodgings prepared. I am going to move back into them. It is about time that I relinquish these chambers. Have them prepared for the King when he visits."

Her sister simply nodded and obeyed her sister's command. Anne went back to her desk, scrawling her response to Francis, giving it to her page as she went to the gardens.

Westminster Palace

London, England

January 8, 1537

The Duchess of York stood in front of the mirror, staring at her wedding dress. It was a dark blue overcoat with an ivory petticoat, covered in diamonds and pearls. Her auburn hair flowed freely down her back, also covered in diamonds. The Princess could not begin to handle all the emotions swirling through her. She had always pictured her wedding, even when she was known as Lady, and feared she'd be forced to wed a Protestant nobody in a closed closet, she always wondered about it. The dress she would wear, the man she would marry, becoming a mother herself. She couldn't believe neither of her parents would be there, another sting of her orphanage. She hoped her mother would be proud of her, of the choices she made. Her mother never wanted her cousin to invade, otherwise they would have fled when they had the chance. She wished she could know the advice her mother would give her, about her consummation, about her marriage. She sighed as she simply missed her mother.

She held the pearl necklace, trying to remember the sound of her father lovingly singing to her, and calling her his pearl. She wondered if he still had called her that, should she have made peace with him before his death, or if he lived longer. She wondered what he would say about her betrothed. Would he be the gracious father, befriending him, or the protective one, threatening the might of England if he ever dared to make her cry? She smiled, knowing it would probably be both, simultaneously.

"What are you laughing about?"

Mary swirled to find her uncle, Charles Brandon, standing in the doorway. She truly laughed now, "I was imagining my father meeting Luís, how he would behave if he were here."

"Oh, your betrothed wouldn't stand a chance," Charles Brandon chuckled. "He would have him chasing himself in circles, being friendly with him one moment and then threatening him the next. Once he saw you dressed as you are though, looking beautiful and grown up, he would cancel the whole thing. Alliance and all. No one was good enough for his pearl."

"Not always," Mary turned back the mirror.

"Always," Charles insisted. "Even when he was trying to force your lowered status. You could only marry someone your rank demanded, the best of the best. They had to accept your status of course, which I think only infuriated your father more when none of them did. I remember him ranting once, 'if they don't accept her for who she is, they do not deserve her!' Sometimes I wondered if he ever truly intended to find you a husband."

Mary chuckled with a tear in her eye, "I do not know if that makes me feel better or worse."

"I hope better," he grinned, "You deserve to be happy today. And since your father is not here to do it for you, I will make sure this Portuguese Duke knows he will have hell reign upon him, should he ever mistreat you."

Mary blushed, "Thank you, uncle."

The day was exhausting as Mary wed the Duke. Anne acted as her maid of honor, followed by her ladies, as the Duke of Suffolk escorted her down the aisle. The Portuguse prince beamed at the sight of his bride. The ceremony was performed by a priest Luís brought with him, so it could be done in accordance with Catholic traditions and without breaking English law. After the ceremony there was a grand feast, where Anne was finding herself in better moods than of late. She was glad she could give Mary such a lavish wedding, and that the girl appeared so elated dancing away with her husband. It had also proved helpful to move from her late husband's chambers; she somehow felt less haunted. A weight lifted from her chest.

Princess Mary made her way to the high table where Anne sat, too far with her child to even begin thinking of dancing. She smiled, "Thank you. For fighting so hard for this marriage."

"Thank you for thinking of it," Anne smiled. "I was wondering how to get in on the wealth Portugal was bringing in from the New World, and your marriage brought it. I am also glad you are content. Your father would have been so proud of you."

Mary blushed, and whispered, "Anne I am worried about tonight. I was too young to receive any advice from my mother the last time I saw her, and Lady Salisbury refuses to even discuss it, past warning me it may hurt."

"Well for one, be thankful that your great-grandmother put an end to the ceremony of consummation where you are watched by a select group of men. There will be two of your ladies and one of his grooms posted outside your door all night," Anne whispered, and took a deep breath for the next part, ensuring it was the lowest whisper. "It will sting a bit when he first enters you fully, but it will dull. The more you fight it, the more it will hurt. Relax, trust your husband, and enjoy yourself. The body knows what it is doing."

Mary nodded and took a sip of wine. Anne nodded, "It will help, but don't have too much. You will want to keep a clear head."

The new Duchess of Viseu nodded again, eating pieces the food set before her. She had barely eaten before dancing, and she was glad Anne had not sent her food away. Soon Luís came to find his bride after being cornered by George Boleyn, and joined in their conversation, attempting to coerce them both to laugh. A feat he found harder than he was used to. A challenge he elated in though. Before long, it was time for the couple to bid goodnight, and Mary went off to seal her marriage.

The next day, the Princess seemed to be dancing on air. Queen Anne smiled as she wondered if she would be congratulating the girl on a child, before her thoughts turned bitter, and she wondered if she made the right decision, letting her child's natural rival marry and produce heirs.