I really need to apologise. I'm sorry I haven't updated in weeks. It was for family reasons and I fear I won't be able to update once a week anymore because of that. But I will definitely not abandon this story!
So this chapter is a lot of drama again...Sorry. I'm building up to something (next chapter, in fact), then I will take a break from drama, I promise!
Chapter 12 is almost finished as well, so I hope I will be able to update once again this week, or otherwise early next week!
Derbyshire
~o~
Catherine
Catherine was both relieved and disappointed to be back at court. They were on summer progress now, if you could count Henry's flight from the big cities a summer progress. The worst was over but the sweat still lurked in the streets of London and Oxford and York, ready to strike out again. Henry had chosen small manors in the countryside for his diminished court of barely two hundred. Yet, the court was merry and Anne and Henry led the festivities, determined not to allow the illness, the Pope or the Queen to ruin their summer. Anne was pale by her standards and even thinner than before but the summer sun gave her skin a healthier colour and the banquets did the rest.
With Anne came her family. Her sister and brother, her father and mother, her uncles and aunts, cousins...
This was the Howard summer and they gave no one reason to doubt this. The ladies and gentlemen Anne's faction did not approve of had been sent to wait on the Queen and Princess Mary and there was no doubt those poor devils were facing the dullest summer of their lives. But here, in sunny Derbyshire, far away from the sweat, far away from the Queen and duty, life was wonderful. Catherine sat under an old tree in the vast garden of this splendid, impressive manor house with outbuildings and extensions in the modern Tudor style. The gentlemen had just withdrawn for a short council meeting and Anne was still resting- or so Catherine had thought.
"Cat!" Her friend wore bright yellow satin, almost golden in the afternoon sunlight, and the matching hood looked almost like a crown as she ran down the grassy hill to Cat's tree.
"Have you heard?" she asked, a little out of breath. "The Cardinal has once again failed bitterly with the Pope. It is in the hands of a papal legate now, and he will be here in autumn. That is all Wolsey achieved after years of diplomacy. I wonder… do you think he is truly this useless? Or is his hatred for me so strong that he would act against the king's wishes?"
Catherine was sure that it was neither.
"He does his best, I am certain, but his power on the continent was never overwhelming, and now it decreases to the same extent as his power in England. He will soon fall from grace. You can afford to be generous."
But the illness had made Anne only more determined.
"He is working against me as he always has. This legate will only bring further delay, mark my words. Nothing good has come from Rome as of recently and I feel like the Pope is no longer only the servant of God but rather the servant of the Emperor."
She did have a point there but it was dangerous to criticise the Pope, even now, even here.
"Mind your words, Anne. He is still the Pope. What will you do when Campeggio denies Henry the annulment?" Cat had always thought that nothing would stop Anne from getting what she wanted. But now…
"I gave the king Tynedale's bible. And a few very interesting books."
"From France."
They had both met Marguerite de Navarre, King Francis's enigmatic, intellectual sister and had read the books she had recommended. And then, they had ventured even further into the deep, intriguing forest of heresy. It was dangerous in England though, Henry was the 'Defender of the Faith'... although, as of recently, he was not as devoted to the Pope as he once had been.
"Indeed. And Henry found them very interesting, and refreshing. They challenge the old order of things, and as it happens, that is exactly what he needs."
"You think he will break with Rome and follow Luther?"
Not even Henry could be so changeable. Ten years ago, more or less, he had written a whole book to denounce Luther and his religious beliefs. He could not turn to him now that a different view was more convenient.
"Luther? Never. But the idea of not having to follow the Pope's orders is growing on him slowly."
Cat was not sure what to think. She did not agree with the old ways, surely. She prayed on her own, sometimes, without a priest. And she prayed directly to the Lord himself. There was truth in it: They were all the Lord's children so why would he not listen to her? But there had been other things in those books they had read, atrocities...Some had even claimed that the Holy Mother Mary had not been a virgin. She hoped that those were the books Anne had buried under a few loose stones in their chamber in Paris.
"Rightly so." she agreed with Anne in so far. "The Pope has never been chosen by the Lord, not more than Henry."
"He is king by God's grace, and not by the Pope's. And he starts to realise how easy it could be. But we cannot risk an outrage so he will send some theologians to the learned courts on the continent, to Germany and France and Italy. The Germans will agree with him, the Italians will love to disagree and France will be divided, as always. So Henry can decide quite freely whom to follow. Let us pray for war between Francis and Charles."
It took Catherine a moment to realise that Anne talked about the king and the emperor, not the duke and the lord. Her heart had skipped a beat.
"Are you feeling fine, Cat? You look pale."
"No. I am fine. Just the heat." she smiled. Anne should not find out about her oddly complicated feelings. It would give them more importance, more weight, and Catherine could really do without another complication.
"It is terrible, I know." Anne said lazily. "It will be cooler tonight though. Henry has planned a marvellous feast, outside in the garden, with a hundred torches burning, and a huge tent of silk and gauze." Ah, another feast. She had almost run out of gowns to wear.
"Have you already asked the duke to grant you the wardship?"
That was salt in her wounds. Catherine had the feeling the duke evaded her ever since they had returned to court.
"Not yet."
"Once they are of age, it won't matter anymore." Anne japed. "What is the worst he can do, Cat? If he says no, I'll tell Henry. The king is fond of you, he will give you what you want if it comes so cheaply."
"He is fond of me because he is fond of you, Nan." Catherine had to smile.
"No." Anne shook her head. "He is truly fond of you. He said as much to Brandon the other day."
"What did he say to Brandon?"
Anne's dark eyes scrutinised her. Then she smiled.
"Did you two spend a lovely summer in the country?"
"It was not love-" Catherine tried to defend herself but Anne grinned now.
"That was what Henry said to Brandon. Truly, Cat, if I didn't know better, I would say that you have taken a liking to that upjumped standard bearer."
"What did Brandon reply?" Catherine knew she had lost. They had known each other for so long that neither could hide something from the other.
"He said that he enjoyed it but that the last week was very cold." Because I distanced myself from him.
"So you have actually found it in you to overcome your aversion?" Anne asked, intrigued.
"Don't be ridiculous. He was very kind. But that doesn't change a single thing."
"On the contrary. It changes everything. But does he feel the same?"
"Anne, please. Whatever I might feel, I feel it against my reasoning, against my pride and certainly against my will. It will go away. Three weeks all alone with him, a few tears and gut-wrenching events, there you have the reasons. Here at court, he is one star amongst so many, and he is surely not the brightest one. You must swear never to tell anyone."
"I solemnly swear to take your secret to my grave." Suddenly, Anne grinned. "The brightest star of all is just coming your way. I hope you are not sick of him already."
Cat sighed. In all truth, yes, she was sick of Talbot. But sending him away bluntly, now after all that happened, would provoke a lot of unwanted questions. And his advances were balm for her scratched soul. Catherine found it hard to admit, but the duke's ignorance hit her harder than she would have thought.
"Lady Catherine." Talbot was tall and lean and handsome. Why, for the sake of God, could she not fall in- become interested in him? It would be so much easier. But Talbot lacked the simple gentleness and straightforwardness that recommended Brandon to her, Francis was not one to care for a friend more than for himself. He might have taken a liking to her, Cat was unsure. But he was a highborn lord, and his attention and thoughts usually revolved around one person: Himself. He was witty and elegant and clever, more sophisticated than the duke could ever hope to be. But his manners were cool as silver and his words nothing but hot air. Somehow, living at court had shown her the emptiness of nobility, their feigned sympathy and sweet words, their betrayal and backstabbing. Brandon was low born, yes, but he was loyal and refreshingly unpolished. If only he had not visited half the ladies in their chambers. He was a skirt chaser, although it seemed he was more discreet about it now. And remember how he treated Mary, and his wife. Yes, that made her feel a little less drawn towards him. A little.
"Lord Talbot." She allowed him to kiss her hand.
"And the Lady Anne."
"Lord Talbot, it is always so wonderful to see you. Of course you will attend the feast tonight?" Anne's tone was so warm that it made up for Catherine's coolness.
"Oh, certainly." He did not look so certain though when he looked back to Catherine.
"Are you feeling well, my lady?" he enquired politely.
"Yes." Cat forced herself to smile. It was not his fault after all that her heart seemed to develop a mind of its own. "It is just the heat. Forgive me."
He was appeased. "I hope it will not be too warm to dance tonight." He sat down next to them on the grass, as effortlessly gracefully as a young cat.
"Hopefully not." Anne said. "I intend to go to bed with the rising sun."
"An ambitious plan, my lady." Talbot grinned at Cat mischievously. "I shall go to bed when my sun sets."
A shadow was cast over their small party. "How poetic." Brandon had soft footsteps but a cutting tone.
"Your Grace." Talbot did not stand up for the duke as he should have. "I heard that your efforts were quite fruitless. Do not take it to heart. Only few men are born to be poets. You have other talents, I am certain." Why can't you two just be civil, at least for one single day?
Catherine rose to make up for the lack of respect the other two showed.
"Do you want to sit with us, Your Grace? The heat is only bearable in the shadows."
The duke gave her a thin-lipped smile. "Too kind of you, Lady Catherine. But we commoners were made for tougher stuff. And I do not want to disturb your extraordinary poetic conversations with my mundanity. Lord Talbot is right. Some men are born for it, some are not." He gave her a stiff bow and turned on his heel. She stood and watched him rushing off with long, angry strides.
"That was ill done." Catherine remarked. "My lord, you show a lack of respect in your interaction with the duke. I know that you do not approve of him but that is no reason for your impertinent behaviour." The words were out before she had properly thought about them and Anne arched a brow at her. Well-done. Catherine could practically hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice. It was unfair criticism as well, for she herself had treated the duke with nonchalant impertinence ever since her arrival at court.
"I was not aware that you feel so strongly about him." Talbot was displeased. "If he is so dear to you, I shall treat him with more respect from now on. Not with the respect he is due as the son of a standard bearer but with with the respect he deserves as your guardian and trusted friend."
"He is not my friend." Catherine was about to shout loudly when Anne came to her rescue.
"Catherine wants to ask His Grace to grant her the wardship for her young nieces and nephew. You will understand, certainly, that she cannot afford to displease him."
Talbot rose to his feet effortlessly and took Cat's hands. "How selfless of you, my lady. Your sister's children? You will be a kind and generous aunt, I am certain. The duke shall not refuse you because of my behaviour. I will apologise to him, if you want me to and I will treat him respectfully from now on. You must forgive me. I was unaware."
As everything he said, his short speech was urgent and dramatic, his voice clear and always a bit too loud.
"There is no need to apologise, my lord. But I thank you for your efforts. It would indeed help me a lot."
Talbot planted a kiss on each of her hands.
"To help you, sweet lady, is my greatest desire."
He bowed again and left the two women in the grass under the lime tree.
"Well, I think it will be very hard for you to rid yourself of him elegantly." Anne was not at all helpful.
Catherine sank to the ground again.
"Thank you, Anne." she said sardonically.
"But I also think that Suffolk's hearty dislike for our fine Lord Talbot stems from their rivalry for your attentions."
"They hated each other long before I was even at court."
Anne gave her a long measuring look.
"True indeed. But he feels something for you."
"Oh that. Hatred, I know." Anne was not helpful at all.
"Perhaps the duke is far more complex than we all knew." She laughed heartily.
Then she got up. "We should prepare for the feast."
"I can scarcely wait." Cat agreed with a sarcastic smile.
~o~
Charles
When he left the manor through the huge oaken double doors, he was rendered speechless. The gardens had been transformed into a scene from a fairy-tale. There were torches everywhere, wisps of silk and organza tied around low hanging branches, lanterns hung from trees and bushes and gave the garden an eerie atmosphere. There was a huge pavillion erected at the far end of the informal gardens, made from silk and gauze and -apparently- cloth of silver. It was striking from the outside but once he was inside, he was speechless once again. Stars were embroidered onto the canopy in thread of silver, chandeliers with dozens of candles hung from the high canopy as well, all silver and set with sparkling crystals. There were beaten mirrors along the walls that made the inside of the tent appear both bigger and brighter.
"Do you like the decorations, my lord?" a seductive, dark voice asked and for a moment, he mistook the woman for her. But it was Anne Boleyn, shining in a gown that was entirely made of cloth of silver. She wore a headpiece of silver, gemstones, sapphires or emeralds, he thought, and pale ostrich feathers that added almost a foot to her height.
"Very…magnificent." He agreed, now looking for the woman's friend. Mistress Boleyn saw through that, obviously.
"If you are looking for Catherine, she is not here yet. But she might appreciate it if you escort her from the house to the pavillion. The path is dark and there was a lot of wine flowing this afternoon. As her warden, it is your duty to protect her, isn't that so, my lord?"
She giggled lightly but the sharpness of her gaze was not even slightly dulled. Anne Boleyn spoke with a subtle French accent that made every word sound a promise, made her smile dark and luring, that made her laugh as enticing as a siren's song. But it was not this woman that intrigued him...
" Lady Catherine is quite able to protect herself."
"A sharp tongue is nothing against a strong man's arms, my lord." Again, she gave him a smile. She noticed the way I look at her, and now she makes fun of me for it. Hopefully, she had not told her friend. I am a fool to think of the little wildcat that way, but if there is one thing I excel in, it is folly.
"I hope you can hold your tongue, Lady Anne." he said. There was nothing he could do against this woman, but it did not hurt to remind her of his influence which was, despite everything, still considerable. Tell her, and I might tell Henry things I heard. Gossip was a despicable, weak weapon, but should Mistress Boleyn tell her, he would not refrain from such methods.
"I know perfectly well when to stay silent, my lord." she assured him. "And when to speak up." Her grin was wolfish when she added that afterthought. He saw her eyes widen.
"It seems Lady Cathérine has no need for a chevalier anymore." From her mouth, her name sounded like a seductive French song.
Charles turned around without another word. Indeed, Catherine stood there in the light of a hundred candles that made her hair look like spun gold. She wore a gown of pale blue samite and a huge aquamarine hung from her slender white neck and he thought he saw light blue gemstones sparkling on her headdress as well. Tonight, all unmarried ladies wore their hair loose with headpieces of silver and gold, decorated with gemstones and feathers. Catherine's was not as extravagant as the Mistress Anne's, but as elegant and lavish as befitted her status. She had not noticed them yet, her gaze wandered around the tent. She was looking for someone, certainly her friend. When she finally saw her, standing next to him with a sly smile on her face, she did not hide her surprise well. Charles thought he detected something else as well, something like urgent embarrassment, a warning look...but perhaps it was the light.
"I bid you a good evening, my lord." She curtsied lightly.
"Lady Catherine." he wanted to talk to her, apologise for his words earlier but he felt the Boleyn girl's eyes like needles on his skin and knew that he could not open up in front of her.
"Anne." Catherine had moved on. "An interesting headdress indeed. I must say, I think the feathers would have been of more use on a bird's wings than on your head. You might catch fire."
Charles hid a smile and Anne giggled.
"For once I am towering over you, Cat. Just admit: that is it what displeases you." She mocked her. Then her dark eyes found the king, splendid in cloth of gold slashed with night blue velvet. "You will excuse me." she purred. Anne Boleyn walked with elegance and grace, as if she danced on water, all eyes were on her. She is a snake, a beautiful serpent.
Now Charles was alone with her but he could not get the words out he had wanted to say. She seemed to have something on her mind as well.
~o~
Catherine
It took all her courage to say the words she had laid out so carefully.
"I wanted to ask you...Your Grace, as my sister is dead and her husband as well, God have mercy on their souls, their children have to close relative that cares for them. His Majesty would grant me the wardship, Your Grace, if you consent to it. My nephew is the baron of Bergavenny, he has an income, there will be no further expenses for you." It had not been so hard after all. She looked up to meet his gaze expectantly.
Brandon stared at her face with unmoving, blue eyes. She was not sure whether he had even heard her.
"Dance with me, Catherine," he said in an urgent whisper, his eyes still fixed on her and she felt the heat of his gaze almost physically. Was this some kind of trade? Was that his price? A dance? But only a dance? Or did he want more? Catherine felt heat rising to her cheeks. The thought embarrassed her, but it did not repel her as it should. Dance with me, Catherine. His voice seemed softer now. Yes. She thought. Yes, yes, yes.
"No." she said. "My lord, I do not think that would be wise." There would be no trade. In the end, women would always pay more than they had bargained for.
Disappointment and embarrassment succeeded desire and anticipation. His cheeks and neck were flaming red. I cannot dance with you. No matter how much she wanted to, this was not the court of love and dreams. And what she desired so much now would turn to ashes as soon as she had it. That much Catherine had learnt about life: Dreams never came true the way they were supposed to. Most married men lie with other women. Few wives love their husbands. That was well known. She would marry one day, she knew. And most certainly, her husband would stray from their marital bed. No doubt it would sting and hurt her pride, but if she went down that road with Brandon, the worst of them all, the man who bedded her sister and deserted her afterwards, it would truly hurt her, not only her pride but her heart which she had guarded and protected so well. And she would regret her foolishness. Allowing feelings to take over never led to happiness. Her sister had experienced this, Queen Mary of France had experienced this. She would not make their mistakes. Once, he asked them to dance, too, all those years ago, he looked at them the same way. That cleared her mind.
Brandon's eyes had changed: Now, they were frozen pools of scorn. "Wisdom has never been a quality of mine, or I would not stand here for you to humiliate me again." he said in a voice flat and sharp.
"I never meant-" She had not wanted to hurt him. She just had not wanted to hurt herself.
"You play with me like a cat with a mouse." He reached out to caress her cheek. Catherine inhaled sharply when she felt his fingers on her skin, cool against her heated red cheeks.
"But you have miscalculated, little cat. I am too much for you to swallow."
Abruptly, he let his hand sink. "I will send your wards to Sudbury Place, a manor not far from Kentwell. They will have teachers and wetnurses and governesses. The boy is the Baron of Bergavenny, his income is more than enough for three children away from court. But be assured that I am not doing this for you. This is not the result of your schemes and ploys. Do not expect any kind of favours of me anymore, my lady. And better be prepared for marriage." he added. "The king has a few candidates in mind. I must say, I do not envy them."
He left her standing there, stunned and speechless and close to tears. I ruined everything. But it is better this way. She tried to convince herself but to no avail. Catherine left the stuffy, overheated pavillion to clear her mind and dry her tears unseen.
'I must say I do not envy them.' Even if she had agreed to dance with him, he would have never reciprocated her feelings. He would have made a fool out of her, and she would have paid for it with pain and misery. Better I see it now than see it later. Catherine wiped her eyes on her silk sleeve, thinking too late about the stains that would cause. I will line it with cloth of silver. Blue and silver, the colours of the night, of the cold. He had been cold this night. Anne was wrong. There is no fondness in him, and I should have never hoped for more. She was a girl, despite her years.
"Lady Catherine?" It was Francis Talbot, tall and handsome and delightfully unlike the duke.
"Mylord." She curtsied elegantly in the French way.
"I have been looking for you all night. Are you unwell?" How perceptive of you. He did not mention the tears though.
"These are tears of joy." she explained. "His Grace was so kind to give his consent." The lie came easy to her.
"I am pleased, I truly am." Talbot kissed her hand and did not let go of it. "Shall we dance? Or would you rather go for a walk?"
The gardens were beautiful in the moonlight but Catherine was no fool. Even here, so close to the tent, could she hear the muffled gasps and moans. It was a warm night, after all, and there had been plenty of wine. Talbot might hope for a walk and more, but Catherine had been at the French court. She was no milkmaid from Dorset.
"I promised you a dance, didn't I?" she smiled. "I would loathe to break a promise."
Talbot accepted her reply with a nonchalant nod but she sensed his well-hidden disappointment.
The duke was nowhere to be found inside, neither had he been in front of the tent. He is in the gardens, no doubt, his hands under some pretty lady's skirt.
"It is truly a wonderful evening." Talbot smiled.
"Oh, wonderful indeed."
I hope you enjoyed it, despite all the drama. Please review! Praise or criticism, I honestly appreciate both!
Replies to reviews:
Guest1: I'm honoured that you gave mine a go despite your preferences. I will definitely not leave this unfinished! I have it all planned out and major parts are already written, they just need a bit of context and historical background and research takes a while.
Guest2: Thank you so much! As I said, I might not be able to update once a week, but I will do my best!
Rayna Silverstone: Thank you so much! I am happy you enjoy my story. Yes, I agree. As historically unaccurate as the show might be, it still manages to give an impression of the time!
