A short chapter about Anne and Cat getting accustomed to life as married women and mothers. This focuses on Anne's difficult position now: She has to get used to her role as wife, mother, and queen. Glamorous but powerless. As a lover, she could still withhold herself and her affections from Henry, now, as his wife, that is no longer attractive or legal because she promised to be "bonny and buxom". I try to show the influence a friend like Cat could have had on Anne's rather notorious temper.

By now, you already know that I never finish chapters when I say I do, which sucks and I'm sorry. But I will finish this story, so bear with me!

Autumn, Penshurst Place

Cat

She shared Charles' bedchamber again, as his wife. It had been tentative, shy, awkward in the beginning but she felt herself with him again now. Life at Penshurst was terribly harmonious.

Cat looked at her family, crowding the nursery. Frances held her half-brother, and she did so well. She was almost a woman grown now and soon, she would come to court as a maid-of-honour to Anne. She was excited, Cat knew. Charles, of course, wasn't but he did his best to hide it. In his eyes, court life would always be too dangerous for Frances, too tempting, too corrupt. But right now, there was no trace of the fine lady in Frances as she tried to keep her little brother to herself. Mary and Bess were both fighting to touch the boy.

"Let me hold him, Frannie," wailed Mary but Bess shook her head, "I'm older, I get to hold him."

"He's not your brother, he's my brother," insisted Mary and that was when Cat decided to intervene.

"You're both his sisters and I'm certain he'll love you both just the same when he grows up."

George chimed in: "And he'll practise swordfighting with me. He can be my squire –" Cat evaded the wooden sword he slashed at the air with, then put a hand on his shoulder.

"Young baron, perhaps you should take the fighting outside, don't you think?"

"As you say, Aunt. But Kitty wants to learn fighting, so she'll have to come with me."

Cat looked at the four-year-old with astonishment.

"Young Kitty will learn sword fighting after she has learned her letters. That much time you must allow your knight, George."

He shrugged. "I'll go on my own then."

George was not quite as enthusiastic about Harry as the others. Perhaps because, now, he was no longer the only boy or perhaps because he didn't know what was so great about a baby.

"But stay in the courtyard," Cat warned. She was feeling thrice her age right now. She gazed back at Frances who was setting down Harry gently. His crib was pretty, with crisp white sheets. She hadn't had the time or the nerve to embroider his initials onto it but he'd live.

The babe began to cry. It was loud in the tiny room.

"Everyone, downstairs," Cat commanded, "Sit in the parlour and wait for me. Frances, finish that embroidery. Yes, I loathe it too but at court, it will be expected of you. I'll show you the tricks I picked up later. Mary, Bess, back to your studies – if you don't want to study then read your tales. And help Kitty down the stairs, please."

Finally, she was alone and started cooing. Harry was a silent babe, the wetnurse had said and her heart had swelled with pride. Silly, really. After a while in her arms, he was asleep and she lay him in his little bed and covered him with his little blankets, tucking him in place, although that would have been unnecessary.

"Very quiet here," said Charles, his voice a mere whisper. Softly, he kissed her neck, his hands on her arms, then he kissed her cheek, then finally, he turned her face to him and kissed her full on the lips, long enough to arouse her. Then he broke the kiss to look at Harry.

"I wish I could sleep that much," he said, smiling.

"You'd be unrested all day," Cat jested.

Charles touched his son's soft dark hair.

"You're too presumptuous, madam," he whispered, amused.

"Outright impertinent," she agreed.

"Let us hope our son will follow in your footsteps. He'll have the world at his

feet soon enough," he chuckled.

"The world is a big place and there's too much in it," Cat replied. "Suffolk will be enough for him."

"Is it enough for you?" Charles turned around to her again and she put her arms on his chest.

"It is everything I want."

"You are very easy to please, after all." He chuckled.

"You may never tell anyone, of course. People should think me capricious."

"I could be persuaded to keep your secret," he started kissing her again.

"You are a true gentleman," she murmured at his lips.

"No one ever called me that," he said, as he lifted her skirts. "Perhaps I should take you to the bedchamber and show you why."

"If you are the rake you claim to be, why aren't we there already?"

He threw her over his shoulder for that and carried her to the bedchamber. Cat did not shriek, as not to wake Harry, but she was giggling like a girl on the way.

"Who is presumptuous now?" she asked breathlessly and he grinned.

"I guess that's me," he said, "you should punish me for it."

She opened the hooks of his doublet with deft fingers.

"I just might," she said with a cruel smile. And then she showed him that she could be cruel.

Later on, he helped her back into her gown.

"Is everything well now?" he asked as he laced the bodice up, though not as tightly as her maid did.

"Now it is," she smiled. "Let's go downstairs."

And they did. Soon enough, they were playing games and Cat was reading stories and all was as it should be. Their nearing departure was looming ahead, though, as it always was. Here, all was well. They had mended their marriage, thankfully. Cat would need all her energy for what was to come. And she needed Charles at her side, loyal and unwavering. And she needed to know that her children, all her children were well and cared for. Frances would take good care of little Harry and he would grow up among people that loved him.

~o~

Charles

~o~

"Her Majesty calls for the Duchess," the page said, more to his feet than to Charles, "she has need of her". She'll always have need of her. Though, to be fair, it was quite improbable that woman had phrased it that way. She loved Cat, for that he respected her.

Charles did not like it, though. Catherine was tired and she hadn't eaten anything since they had broken their fast at sunrise. She needed rest after the long ride. But if he just told the woman to wait, that she would see Cat at the banquet in the evening, Cat would probably be furious and he liked their newly established peace. She had even gone back to mocking him, and he really didn't want to miss that. So he just nodded.

"Her Grace will come as soon as possible," he said.

The boy nodded and left, only to be followed by a second page making his entrance. This one wasn't shy. Not a new addition to court then, so probably Henry's servant. He was right. "His Majesty has need of you, Your Grace." The boy bowed low. Aye, and Henry'll always have need of me. "He asks you to join him in his solar as soon as possible."

Charles nodded. "I will."

Their bliss was over, it seemed. Though long before he had even thought of marrying her, they had spent much time together even here. Court life did have its advantages. She would dance with him again. She would play her games with him again. And also, all those fine peacocks would know to keep their distance now. He remembered their game in France. He had no need to fear that they would grow apart here. At court, their dynamic was different but they would still be together. Work together. and now, he would tell her that the queen was eager to see her.

In the bedchamber, Catherine was kneeling on the floor, bent over a chest, rummaging through it rather aggressively. Her hair was a tangled mess from the ride, her bosom had half slipped out of her bodice from bending over and her skirt had ridden up her shins from kneeling. A gentleman saw these things.

He meant to tell her about the queen's call but perhaps that could wait, only a moment. Charles approached her from behind, then put his hands on her shoulders, the tips of his fingers close to the neckline of her gown. She jumped, startled, then saw him looming above her.

"It seems I forgot to pack the red hood, the one that goes so well with my brocade gown." She was angry.

Charles had only a vague idea which dress she meant and no idea at all which hood she was talking about.

"You have plenty of others," he shrugged, then noticed it was probably not the right thing to say and corrected himself: "I mean, you can always commission another one."

She got up, accepting his helping hand, then shook her head, slightly unnerved but with an indulgent smile, as if he was a disobedient but charming child.

"Not from that fabric, I fear. It was a gift from the king. But you are right, I have others."

Now that she was so close to him, the question of her headdress did not interest him all that much anymore. She smelled nice, though not of perfume, that smell had long worn off during the ride. Of herself. Charles touched her hair, the soft skin under her earlobe.

"I like it the way it is," he smiled, "you look...sensuous."

She rewarded him with that mocking little laugh, laced with some honest embarrassment by his flattery.

"Of course you do," she quipped, "It surely reminds you of...certain things."

She blushed. She had given birth to a child and she still blushed.

"What certain things could you mean, perchance?" he grinned, "Horseback riding? Running in the park? A game of tennis?"

"Oh, please, bring me your racket," she said, raising a hand as if she was ready to receive it right now to beat him with it.

"You do have a very violent streak." He furrowed his brow but she only smiled.

"I might have developed one indeed, but see, I am forced to deal with this blundering fool…"

"Oh please, tell me more about him."

"He takes all sorts of liberties with me, he is downright impertinent and he mocks me constantly."

"He sounds like a true rascal," Charles replied, his voice breathless. Why was he out of breath? He had shunned the tennis court for too long.

"Oh, he is indeed." Cat's fingers slid down the hooks of his doublet without opening one. Charles caught her fingers in his.

"You know of course what a lady is to do with a rascal?"

"Enlighten me?" Her smile was expectant.

"Well, she is to grant him his every wish." He pulled her closer, until her chest touched his. She was chuckling. He noticed that her eyes were dark now.

"It is good then, that I'm a duchess, not merely a lady."

Charles grinned at his defeat.

"So you might show yourself merciful toward said rascal, though."

"He could perchance convince me," she allowed with feigned hauteur.

He kissed her then but tore away from her only a minute later.

"Her Majesty has asked for you."

"And His Majesty has asked for you."

He nodded.

~o~

Cat

~o~

Cat was only mildly displeased Charles hadn't told her about the royal summons right away. Charles liked to keep Anne waiting and she was never happy about their continuing rivalry. But today, just this once, she wouldn't be angry. Quickly, stuffed her hair under a snood and fastened a plain French hood on her part. She would probably not be the subject of court gossip today, at least not for her fashion sense.

But that didn't matter. Anne needed her, Anne whose fate she had not forgotten, but whose fate had somehow become much less present during her stay at Penshurst with so many children dancing round her skirts and so many other things to think of. She had been a bad friend. It was time to make it up to her queen.

"Where were you?" Anne wore a heavy velvet robe and Cat saw no trace of her past pregnancy. She had always been thin and she had written that she had lost her appetite after Henry's affair.

"I had to get dressed, You Majesty." Around other ladies in waiting, she used Anne's title. A sign of respect, an elevation of her queen.

"Lay out the green gown, the one with the emerald tassels," she commandeered Lady Rochford, "And then leave us."

"The green gown? Not purple?" Cat had expected her to wear the royal colour for her grand entrance.

"I considered it. But with things being as they are, it is much more important that I stress who I am, rather than what I am. And I, chére Catherine, am a Tudor through and through, as is my daughter, Henry's heir. Arrogance won't help me now."

"I wouldn't have thought I'd ever hear you say that," Cat japed but the she became serious. "It will be over. You know that, right? There's no woman who could ever hold a candle to you."

"I think a lot about her nowadays. Do you think she thought the same?"

Cat didn't need to ask who "her" was.

"Probably. She was a princess of the blood. What Henry did for you was without precedent."

"Now, there is precedence, however. And there is no one to hold him back. I'm glad you speak so freely with me. I will never rest easy on my chair. I will have to fight until my last breath."

She said all this quite matter of factly, without a trace of self-pity or sadness. Anne, it seemed, had spent the month contemplating her future. And she had come to a decision, too.

Anne already wore her corest but Cat helped her into the farthingale.

"You are the most persevering person I know, Nan. You can fight. You have to. For Elizabeth and for your next child. Charm him. Be sweet and loving. He will be back in your bed before the end of the week."

"You are quite optimistic."

Anne pulled the forepart over her head and Cat tied the ribbons in the back. Then the gown.

"He loves you. He is disappointed now. It will pass."

Everything did with Henry. But Cat didn't say that. Instead, she tied Anne's sleeves to the bodice of the gown and attached the brocade undersleeves. The fabric was the most costly Cat had ever touched. And it was heavy.

"Help me with the hood. Push it back as far as possible. I'm still young. I'm still beautiful. I'm still fertile. I want them to see that I'm still a force to be reckoned with. Henry can bed a Luke, a Herbert, a Neville or a Seymour, the name of the Queen will remain Boleyn."

Technically, of course, she was a Tudor now, but the Howards would never allow anyone to forget that their girl was on the throne.

Anne was a vision in Tudor green when Cat had finally helped her dress. The gown was so heavy that she had trouble walking straight and the sleeves dragged over the floor but she looked every inch a queen.
They stood in front of the tall double door to the Great Hall. Anne had raised a hand and the footmen awaited her further commands. But the queen just stood there, looking at the door with guarded eyes. Cat put her hand on hers.

"Are you ready, Your Majesty?"

It took a moment, but then Anne smiled cheekily, although the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Je suis toujours prête à faire une entrée remarquée."

Her French was as good as it had always been, without even the faintest accent. The woman was gone, the courtier was back. Anne adjusted her jewelled French hood, a sign of both her status as queen and as a married woman, tugged at the neckline of her exquisite green gown, then nodded at the footmen. The doors opened and Queen Anne Boleyn of England stepped through, head held high, her train trailing behind her, followed by Cat, who took in the scrutinising eyes, the mocking smiles here and there, the accusing glances. There was no room for sympathy at court. But Cat would be right here, covering Anne's back.

Comment: Je suis toujours prête à faire une entrée remarquée means "I am always ready to make a grand entrance". I think. My French lessons were never as effective as my teacher hoped.

Please leave a review! I don't feel very secure about my writing at the moment so if you could take the time and tell me whether something is off, I would be really grateful.