I thank you all for your lovely reviews, I turn into a smiling fool every time I get a notification.
This chapter is so much fluff but I tried to spice it up with a few hints at future drama^^. It's more of a go-between chapter to prepare future events (I'm not 100% happy with it) but still the longest I ever published so you might want to read it in portions.
Please let me know what you think! Thank you.
Whitehall Palace
Catherine
~o~
They would set off on the morrow: The summer progress would take them from one end of the country to the other and Cat was happy to see the sea again.
Today though, the king had plans for his closest friend and her. As Anne had foreseen, Henry had been enthusiastic about their match, not only because he was making his friend very happy but also because Cat, with her Plantagenet blood, was finally off the market. Now the old families of the realm, the exiles and foreign dukes that had a feeble claim to the English throne and hoped to strengthen it with a marriage to Buckingham's daughter, would have to look elsewhere. Charles had been insignificant to marry a king's sister without consequence, he was surely insignificant enough to marry a king's third cousin. His common blood weakened their children's claim just like Katherine Woodville's had once weakened Cat's father's claim. She did not care about the political aspect though, not in the slightest.
She was happier than she ever had been and that was all that counted. Her father had died frustrated and unhappy, only because of ambition and pride. She would not make the same mistake. Cat would be a duchess now, and she would be lying if she said that she would have married Brandon even if he had been no more than a common knight. But her ambitions were achieved. She was a duchess, like her mother, first lady of the realm after the king's own blood and wife, and perhaps her own sister. She was allowed to wear cloth of gold and have her own ladies in waiting, something she would surely not take advantage of. She wanted to be Anne's lady of the bedchamber. She loved life as a courtier and would not give it up for servants and her own little court.
Once married, she would share her chambers with Bran- Charles, and that prospect filled Cat with both delight and terror. She would have to fulfil a wife's duties then, and the thought frightened her. To share a bed with him every night, that was exciting and daunting at the same time. What if he did not like her in that way? She was terribly inexperienced in all these matters although she had been in France. Perhaps he expected her to know these things? She would ask Anne. Or perhaps even her sister- Elizabeth knew what was going on in the bedchamber, and perhaps the only person apart from Anne who would not gossip about her.
She would come back to court for the wedding, Cat's only living sibling. A few cousins would be invited, her father's younger sister, Lady Huntingdon, would be one of the witnesses, but apart from that, most of the guests would be fellow courtiers. Anne Stanhope, Lady Margaret Lee, Jane Seymour and the other maids, even Lucy Talbot and Margery Horsman would be invited, although neither had recovered from the shock yet. Of course, the whole Boleyn-Howard family would be in attendance as well as some of the other old families. Henry Percy feigned illness, so it would be his brother's turn to represent the family. Francis was of course not invited. Yes, it promised to be a very public and very extravagant affair and Cat was looking forward to it with mixed feelings. They would marry after the summer progress, then move to one of their country estates for a month or two, to spend time with the children and to try and beget some more. The thought alone made her blush and sweat. Very suave, that is surely exactly what he finds attractive: A blushing, sweating fool. Perhaps it would have been easier if she had not loved Brandon. Certainly. But now, with a heart overflowing with love for him, she feared his affection would cool, like it had so often for so many women. Surely, a man like him expected more than others in the bedchamber, there were so many she had to compete with.
Catherine could not put those thoughts to rest, but in the overall bliss that was her constant companion these days, it was easy to ignore all doubts. Until the king insisted on showing them their newly furnished quarters.
As a married couple of high rank and great fortune, they would have grand quarters, naturally, more spacious than Brandon's old ones, with two seperate dressing chambers, a study, a dining room, a reception room, a private parlour and an airy bedchamber with a beautiful new bed, a gift from the king. Catherine tried not to stare at it when she entered the room with Charles, the king, Anne, and a few courtiers, but of course, that very item of furniture was the subject of a great many rather bawdy jokes that only stopped when Anne intervened. Brandon had laughed them off as he did with everything but his hand had found Cat's and he squeezed it reassuringly- But what kind of reassuring was it? Was he telling her not to mind those jokes because he knew how inexperienced she was? Or was he trying to be as intimate as possible in a crowd of courtiers to show her he couldn't wait for their wedding night? She would have almost withdrawn her hand out of confusion when the king addressed her:
"You will of course retain your lady-in-waiting chambers. They will come in handy when Charles bothers you too much." Henry laughed. "And the Queen-" now he looked at Anne "will have need of you."
The present Queen Katherine was very kind and Cat did not even try to ignore the stab of guilt that was far more violent than usually.
"I hope your marriage will not distract you too much from your duties, Lady Catherine." The Queen had said in a light, joking tone, but Cat had felt the full weight of the accusation. Yes, Anne had distracted her from her duties. She had not been a good maid of honour- and she would not be a good lady in waiting to Katherine either. She had sided with the king and Anne long ago, something the Queen had forgiven, yet surely not forgotten.
The Queen would not accompany them on their summer progress, she would spent the hot days in London or at Ludlow with her daughter if Henry allowed her to. It did not look like it though, she had angered him too much in the past months, nor was she about to relent now. Henry did not like it at all when people did not give in to his wishes.
Catherine would not see the Spanish princess for a while and once back at court, Cat would not serve Katherine anymore, she would be a duchess then and would no longer have to serve. She would be with Anne most of the time then. Many things had been left unsaid between her and her namesake, the beautiful Spanish princess that had once stolen the king's heart, a long time ago when Cat and Anne had still played Ladies and Knights with their dolls.
She was no longer the beautiful princess, she was an aged queen now, neither quite Spanish but not English either, and effectively without friends on both sides of the sea. Her nephew, the Emperor, had threatened Henry, then kissed his boots, threatened him again, always depending on the state of his friendship with the continental rulers. Cat was fully aware that Charles V would never do more than threaten Henry- his aunt was an old, now infertile woman that had failed her family. No son of Spain would ever sit the English throne and she had lost all influence over her lord husband. She was no longer of use to him, no matter how many loving letters he tried to send to her (most of them were intercepted anyway), his deeds failed to fulfil the promise of his words. Katherine of Aragon's days were over and Catherine would have told her to give up, withdraw to a nunnery or a country estate with her daughter, spent her last ten or twenty years near the coast, become a patron of the arts or study Greek, live like an independent woman, free from husband, sons, brothers and father. But who was she to presume to lecture a queen?
She should have told the queen that she had never stopped admiring her for her strength of character, that she knew very well that she did not deserve the kindness Katherine had shown her, that she knew that she had been a disloyal maid-of-honour but that she had loved her Queen nonetheless- just not as much as Anne. That all was a terribly feeble excuse though with the sole purpose of making her own heart lighter and if Katherine of Aragon had taught her something, then that there was no room for a selfish heart at her court.
So Catherine smiled and told her queen that she would bring her wild flowers and that she hoped that His Majesty would allow her to be with her daughter.
"I thank you, my lady. If the Lord is willing, we will all have a joyful summer," she smiled.
Catherine thought of Anne and Henry, of Anne's giddy laugh only a few days ago, when she had told her about Brandon.
"I will pray for you, Your Majesty."
"I thank you, Lady Catherine."
~o~
The melancholy that had taken hold of Cat in the Queen's empty chambers was soon gone, Anne's presence had melted it like early frost. That was, until she brought up a rather unpleasant topic.
"Your future husband does not approve of me." Anne smiled but her eyes remained cool.
Of course Catherine was aware of the slight grudge Charles harboured for Anne but she was certain that once the Dowager Princess Katherine was away from court, he would warm up to his new queen.
"He is very fond of Katherine but once he gets to know you better, he will see what a wonderful queen you make."
"He warned Henry. And he told him about certain rumours circulating at court. Rumours about Thomas Wyatt and Henry Percy."
That was not good at all. Thomas Wyatt had only been an admirer but Henry Percy had been more than that. Anne had loved him, Anne had taken the ring and made a pledge. She had been betrothed in the eyes of God and men, although with Percy's wedding, that pledge had become invalid. And still, it would be better if Henry did not find out how serious her attachment to Northumberland's son had been, he was a jealous man and unforgiving, a rather inconvenient combination in this case.
The Cardinal had long been silenced but there was no secret that could be kept forever, at least not at court.
"What did you say?"
"I denied it. But you need to tell Brandon to never repeat these accusations or I swear, I will have him banished."
Cat had always found that Anne looked most impressive when she was angry. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why Henry loved to fight with her.
"Do not say that, Nan. Brandon is as influential as you are."
"Not with the king, not at the moment. And if he presumes to defame me-"
"He won't," said Catherine, not sure whether she was actually in the position tell him what to do.
"I love you, Cat, and for your sake, I am willing to overlook his occasional lack of respect. But this time he is seriously attacking me and my position."
"He was not attacking you, Anne. It was only a warning, he repeated rumours that had already been in circulation anyway, just that they weren't very interesting back then. Half the court knows you had a dalliance with Percy and the whole court has heard at least one of Wyatt's love poems. You even encouraged his attentions." Anger was slowly rising in her chest. Charles would never gossip like a fishwife, he had his reasons for this warning, Cat would only have to explain Anne's behaviour and all would be well. "He thinks only about the king's wellbeing."
"His Majesty's wellbeing is my concern now, not his. It won't be long and I will be his queen."
Catherine would have liked to defend Charles once again but if Anne was ready to drop the issue (the rather clumsy attempt to change the topic told her that much), then Cat would not hold a grudge.
"Not long? So Henry has found a way?"
"The new priest I told you about, my chaplain, Cranmer."
Cat remembered the man, small and slight with a growing bald spot in his dark hair, but sharp eyes that seemed to always dart from one end of the room to the other and gave him the appearance of a scared but very observant rabbit. He was an unassuming person but perhaps that was his strength.
"What of him?"
"He will be made Archbishop of Canterbury when Warham dies."
Archbishop Warham was one of Katherine's staunchest supporters and one of Anne's most fervent opponents. He refused to accept any changes in the doctrine of the church or the law of Rome- and he was old, well beyond eighty probably. It was only a matter of time.
Cranmer on the other hand was a Reformer at heart, although he was so quiet that only very few members of the court were aware of that. Clement was surely ignorant and would accept Henry's suggestion, eager to show him his good will in any other matter but the king's Great Matter.
"And he will rule according to the new law, he will agree with the German scholars and declare Henry and Katherine's marriage null and void."
"That he will." Anne lowered her voice. "By the end of the summer, Katherine will no longer live at court. I will have her rooms, her crown jewels- I would have her gowns, but they won't fit me. Right now, the king has new furniture made for me, I chose a couple of tapestries with him yesterday and he sent for rugs from the Ottomans."
Catherine saw that Anne tried to keep her composure but finally, she gave up and let out a rather unregal giggle, not the victorious, superior smile that she would show the other courtiers. This giggle spoke of all the tension, the despair, the doubts she had been through. Her dream was within reach and she had made it possible with all her power. She would of course never show anyone but Cat how much the ordeal had cost her and how hard she had fought for this victory. For everyone else, it would seem effortless, as if everything had gone just as she had planned it.
"And then you will marry and he'll make you queen?"
"Not yet, no. He might advance me in a different way- But I do not know yet. As soon as Warham dies, it is settled though, he will make me his queen. Oh, I wish it was tomorrow-" The smile froze on her face. "No, I will not pray for his death. I will try it your way this time, then the Lord will surely show me kindness. Aren't the patient always rewarded? You have been, after all."
This time, her smile was genuine.
"You and Brandon will spend your honeymoon in the countryside, won't you? Will you stay at Westhorpe or move to Thornbury?"
Cat had no idea. Thornbury was awe-inspiring, yes, but it was a house that was decorated and furnished to impress and not for comfort. She had spent a rather unhappy childhood there after her mother's death and Thornbury Castle would forever be linked to her father's ill fate.
Catherine was not fond of living at Westhorpe either, where the ghost of Mary Tudor still wandered the halls and every room whispered her name. No, Catherine had liked the house as a guest, but she would never be its mistress. She already had to share her husband with the dead princess, she did not want to have to share her home with her, too, though she would never tell Brandon. Charles. But where else? Her mother had loved Kentwell in summer, the lakes and wild flowers. It had been her permanent residence when her health had become fragile. Still, Kentwell was not a fitting primary residence for the Duke of Suffolk and she was unsure whether she wanted to live in a house that was still haunted by ghosts and memories, even if they were happy.
"My favourite house had always been Penshurst."
Penshurst with its sprawling gardens and airy rooms that were not stuffed with hangings and furniture from her great-grandfather. The house was grand and stately but comfortable, with large chambers and entertainment facilities, hunting grounds and a lodge, a maze (she was very fond of mazes as of lately) and a ballroom large enough to host even a royal ball. Yes, perhaps Penshurst. It was not far from London either, but still far enough to remain untouched by the plague and the sweat. The children could move there and she and Charles could travel from court to Penshurst once every fortnight and spend a quiet week there.
"That would be a good choice," Anne agreed. "You should tell him that you would rather not live at Westhorpe, men can often be rather ignorant about these things. Henry did not understand why it angered me that he had given me one of Katherine's old discarded necklaces- You do though, don't you?"
Of course she did. But Anne was jealous of a still influential and potentially threatening Queen while Cat envied a dead lady whose only crime was that she was better than Catherine in everything she had ever touched. An accomplished musician and poet, hailed by everyone as the greatest beauty of Christendom, a princess and a Queen, most beloved by her brother, desired by all the great monarchs of the continent. How was she to compete with the perfect Mary Tudor? Even in death, she overshadowed her.
"I understand." Cat forced herself to smile and as so often, Anne knew what she was thinking.
"He loves you, Cat. More than the king's sister-"
"You don't know that."
"Of course I do! He never fought for Mary Tudor, he never asked her to marry him, everyone knows that. She persuaded him to break his word and marry her and he was not happy for long. But for you he fought, he gave everything he had, he risked his reputation, his title and position to save you although you had given him no reason to hope. If you ask for more, you do risk appearing ungrateful." Anne gave her a crooked smile.
"God forbid either of us might ever be ungrateful- Wait. I have a feeling like one of us is."
"The heart wants what the heart wants." Anne said with a condescending smile.
"Now, and you fancy yourself a poet?" Catherine asked, one eyebrow arched disapprovingly.
"At least I never rhymed love with glove." Anne gave back. Catherine might have once committed that sacrilege, years ago when they had still been in France.
"It wasn't that bad," she insisted.
"You are lucky that you are so pretty, or Brandon might not even have considered you."
"Perhaps he just likes women that are friendly. Quite unlike the king." Cat crossed her arms.
"Friendly." Anne snorted. "Next you call yourself Catherine the Gracious."
"That doesn't sound too bad actually." She had to smile. "You always succeed in lightening my mood."
"By poking fun at you? I know, you are a strange person." Now Anne's smile faded to a more serious expression. "Just as you can always make me see the silver lining, no matter how dark the night is." She kissed her on both cheeks.
"But enough of this bad poetry, we should join His Majesty, he wants to discuss the summer progress."
Henry was indeed as giddy as a child before Christmas, though perhaps not only because of the summer progress. He approved every single suggestion Anne made with a wide grin.
"And I want to take the new ship out the harbour. It has been too long since I've seen the sea, I want to taste the salt on my lips. Do you remember it, Cat? Everytime Francis launched a ship, he would take his courtiers and we would dance until the planks were smoothed and footworn."
Yes, Catherine did remember that, though a bit differently. "I remember how Madame La Trevoille couldn't keep down the expensive wine."
Henry laughed. "See, darling, you are idealising your time in France. But as you wish. If you want to dance on a ship's deck, that is what we will do. We will need quite few new ships for our-" he didn't finish the sentence, only smiled, and none of the courtiers present dared to ask. Catherine knew what he meant because Anne had told her only a few days ago. They would go to France, and Anne would go as the king's betrothed and future wife. The exact date was not set yet, in fact, it was only a vague agreement with Francis so far, but Henry couldn't contain himself of course, and had to hint at the bliss that he was expecting.
~o~
Whitehall Palace
Charles
~o~
He was already in a bad mood to start with and for once, Catherine didn't lift his spirits. Henry had reacted to his warning like an angry bull and not talked to him in private since. Instead, Charles had to endure Mistress Anne's icy gaze and the fine superior smile that he had come to loathe so much. Not to mention her graspnig father and arrogant brother.
"Do you have a moment?" Charles knew Catherine well enough to see that she was nervous although her voice was calm and her tone ostensibly casual. He had a feeling this conversation would be about said lady. It was certainly true what they said: No one could escape her these days.
"What is the matter?" He tried to smile blithely but failed.
"It is about Anne. She said you repeated some of the outdated rumours about her?"
He ground his teeth. She would put it that way. "I warned my friend and king of a lady that seems to have a rather turbulent past."
"Anne is as virtuous as me."
That did make him smile. Catherine, despite her wit and sharp tongue, was guileless and innocent and as virtuous as the Virgin Mary, he did not doubt it. Her friend on the other hand was certainly everything but that. Rumours had it that she was guilty of the poison attack on Bishop Fisher and she had certainly made sure that Wolsey met an untimely end. She used her wit and charm to her own advantage and for her family's advancement, no matter the cost. Lady Anne Rochford was ruthless, recklessly ambitious and naturally arrogant and Charles had no idea why Catherine was so attached to her. Nothing good would come out of Henry's obsession and the king's heart would bleed, no doubt.
"I am certain." He did not want to fight with her, and least of all about the Boleyn girl.
"Now you are patronising me. You repeat rumours and have no other foundation for your accusations but court gossip?"
The way she said it made him feel petty and which in turn made him angry.
"I have eyes, my lady. And ears. I see what she has done to Henry-"
She interrupted him, her cheeks flushed and eyes shining with anger: "The king is a man in love!" A man with an obsession, more like it, but who am I to judge?
"Yes. Perhaps. Still, will you deny that Lady Anne was far too intimate with Percy? The whole court saw that the boy was mad in love and some whisper that there was a contract."
She was a good liar, his little betrothed, but apparently, not to him. She blushed.
"So there was a contract." That did rouse his interest.
"Percy promised to marry her." Catherine admitted. "But it is invalid, he married Mary Talbot and thereby set Anne free. You must promise never to mention it to the king. Anne loves Henry with all her heart. You do not know her. Wyatt would have licked her boots clean if she had asked him to but she never wanted it-"
"Oh, yes, of course she did. She encouraged every man's attentions, you know she did." There had been a brief period of time when Mistress Anne had tried to flirt with him. But Charles had had his share of ambitious women and the younger Boleyn girl had always made him wary.
"It's what we women are taught! You cannot fault her for it. You can go and gallivant and flirt and more and no one will ever hold it against you. Everything Anne did was flirting, if at all, and now, years later, you make an obstacle out of it and call her unchaste."
That did touch a raw nerv, especially because had indeed done all the things she accused him of and there had never been repercussions for him, apart from a bad conscience from time to time that was easily suppressed.
"So I should take your word for it that Lady Anne is as virtuous as she claims to be? I should take your word for it that her alleged feelings for the king are not the result of her ambition?"
"Yes!"
It was hardly her fault. She had spent half her life with Anne Boleyn, of course she would defend her. But she would certainly not lie to him, or would she? Perhaps the lady was indeed innocent. Or perhaps she had just hidden her clandestine rendezvous from Catherine as well.
"I will not repeat those accusations then." He wouldn't have anyway. The doubt was sowed. All Henry had to do was open his eyes. There was nothing Charles could do. He was still far from convinced that Anne Boleyn was good for the king or good for England, but his influence on the king was non-existent when it came to his sweetheart.
Catherine smiled as if that settled the issue.
"Good. It would grieve me if you disliked her. I have very little family left and we have always been close."
"I do not dislike her." That was not quite true. But he did not hate her either. Charles was only deeply suspicious of her, her family and their ulterior motives and if he had a say in it, that Boleyn girl would never wear Henry's ring on her finger and the crown on her head. But, alas, he didn't and the king was adamant, so why should he risk his own luck ?
"Good." She squeezed his hand and Charles pulled her close to kiss her. What did he care about the Boleyns? If they wanted, they could conquer all the beds of England, as long as they left him in peace.
"I better go packing."
She blushed prettily, his soon to be wife. Charles could hardly wait for their wedding. And their wedding night, in all truth. He even dreamt of it quite vividly sometimes. He couldn't remember that he had ever desired a woman enough to wait for her for years but now, even though it was his little wildcat he was waiting for, his patience was wearing thin. He had never stayed abstinent for so long, but he knew he would have waited twice as long if he had to. She was worth it. Yes, just thinking about the two month wait ahead drove him mad sometimes, but it helped to remember that their wedding day was only the beginning. After the wedding they would go to Westhorpe and see the children, and try to have one of their own, and those would be blissful days, he was certain. Charles had already sent a messenger to Westhorpe to make sure everything was ready for their arrival. A portrait had to be removed, the rooms on the first floor had to be redecorated, he had commissioned new furniture and a new bed for the main bedchamber. He had also left instructions to clean out Mary's music room and make it into a schoolroom for the children.
Henry had gladly accepted Charles' offer, he would take the portrait for his private gallery and the instruments for his own daughter Mary.
Charles did not want Catherine to feel like a guest in the grand house, or worse, like the second choice. He could only imagine how frightening it must be to feel like you had to follow in Mary Tudor's footsteps and he wanted to make sure that she knew no one wanted her to. He had told her his feelings and it was not in his nature to repeat those kinds of confessions but he would if she still wasn't aware that for him, she was the first in many ways and that with her he felt as if he had truly opened his eyes for the first time. Better don't phrase it like that, or she'll take you for a Wyatt. She had little patience for the wordy and the dramatic, another thing they had in common.
Yes, Charles could hardly wait to go home as a married man with Catherine as his wife by his side. In time, she would make the house her home, he hoped.
~o~
Catherine
~o~
The court left early the next day for Tyttenhangar in Hertfordshire and would move from there to the coast, as Anne had wished. They would not go to Dover, Henry decreed, because it was a densely populated town where many strangers arrived everyday, all potentially carrying one of the diseases Henry had every right to fear. Instead, the ship would be brought to them.
Catherine liked Tyttenhangar, but she loved the coast even more. It consisted of tall cliffs and sandy beaches and Cat ruined two pairs of brand new shoes with sand and seawater. She hoped her seamstress could still save some of her gowns.
Another advantage of the location was that she and Brandon could take long strolls along the beach or cliffs without company. In the palace gardens, there was always a pair of eyes and ears following them but here, they were truly alone.
They had slipped away silently once again, left the other courtiers dancing, singing and feasting in a small natural bay surrounded by cliffs. These rocks now shielded them from view as they walked along the beach, waves lapping at their feet from time to time.
"This is the fifth dress I have ruined because of you."
"You'll make us poor." Charles grinned. "Perhaps I should carry you then?"
"Oh, don't bother, it is already ruin- Ah."
He had grasped at her waist but she had taken a sideward step- and was now ankle deep in seawater.
"It is reassuring to know that you are not that much cleverer after all," he grinned.
"I still adhere to my previous statement that this is your fault."
"My future wife is truly absolutely self-opinionated- There you are, wet feet and everything, two steps away from me and still claim this is my fault?"
Catherine stalked out of the water. "I am not quite sure about the future wife, Your Grace. You are talking as if you would like to lose her before you even gave her a ring."
Her feet were wet and sticky, there was sand in her shoes and the wetness was slowly rising up her stockings. She would need to change her footwear or go barefoot- but the former was rather impractical and the latter absolutely scandalous.
Charles did not look as if he took her threat seriously. "I am not sure why but somehow I like it when you threaten me."
"That is because you know you do not deserve better." Cat sat down on a rock that had been ground smooth by the sea over the years and tried to shake the sand out of her shoes under her skirt as gracefully as possible- which was not very gracefully at all.
"I certainly know that I do not deserve better than you." He sat down next to her and watched her unsuccessful attempt.
"Is it the sand? Shall I?"
What, get his hands under her skirt? Certainly not. She had not asked Anne or Elizabeth yet and until then, all endeavours of that sort would have to wait.
"No, thank you." It wasn't so bad. Many poorer women often wore shoes that were too tight or uncomfortable. Cat would ignore it. "It's alright."
A smile that was not meant for her to see darted over his face, a little too amused, a little too smug for her taste.
"Perhaps we should go b-"
"We should at least wait until your dress has dried." He did have a point there.
Brandon handed her a wineskin. "In case you're thirsty?"
She was, actually. The wine was warm but still good and she felt better after a few sips.
"It is very beautiful here." The waves that came in crashing on the beach seemed to change colour, from dark blue, to green to a pale grey, seagulls were crying over their heads and from time to time, a larger bird cast a shadow on the sand. There was a trade galley out there, she thought, though she couldn't see much more than the mast. They were surrounded by high, reddish brown cliffs on three sides and only a narrow band of golden sand linked them to the neighbouring bay and the rest of their assembly.
"It is." Brandon put his hand on hers quite casually. It was warm but not sweaty. "We should have a painting commissioned." We. Her heart skipped a beat.
"Yes. For the parlour." It still felt strange. She was now a lady that was part of a 'we' and had a parlour and paintings. He squeezed her hand.
"I would like you to sit for a portrait, if you want, of course."
That did startle her, partly because she still remembered the portrait of Queen Mary in Westhorpe.
"Why?"
He laughed.
"Don't you think we should have a wedding portrait painted? And when Holbein is at it, I would like him to paint you on your own, and perhaps one or two miniatures."
"What would we do with that many paintings of me?"
"I would like to put the portrait in the art collection at Westhorpe. And our wedding portrait- well, perhaps there'll be another free wall in our parlour?" He was still smiling.
"I would rather not stare at my own face when I'm trying to read."
"You should be staring at my face and I at yours." His hand wandered from her fingers to her waist. "But if you would rather not be painted, that is fine." He leant against the stone behind them. Was he disappointed? Cat knew she could not compete with Mary- would he put the portrait up next to the Queen's?
"No, if you would like-"
"Since when are you doing things to please me? Don't start now, it confuses me."
He kissed her and Cat's heart had not found its steady rhythm again when he started speaking.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- it's just that I already made room for the image in Westhorpe. Henry has always wanted to have a Holbein painting of his sister."
A wave of thankfulness and embarrassment swept over her. He knew exactly what the issue was without asking
"Don't ever think you are the last in a long row, Catherine. You are the very first. I thought I loved Mary, I truly did. But it all pales in comparison to this." He took her hand again. "I know it's not easy for you but never doubt that I love you."
"I don't doubt it." Cat said to the waves but he gently lifted her chin so that she had to look him in the eye.
"If you would rather wait-" he started but that was not at all what Catherine would rather do.
"No. I don't. It's just- my first marriage."
He did seem to find that funny and Cat had to laugh, too.
"It will be our last," he muttered, his lips now very close to her ear.
"Hopefully."
"Always the optimist, aren't you?" His crooked smirk was still irresistible and Cat, emboldened by his declaration, kissed him. It was completely inappropriate and she enjoyed every moment. Surely, her father, mother, siblings, her whole long line of noble ancestors were shouting indignantly at the sight. If they had made it to heaven, that was.
But this here felt as perfect as paradise: Brandon had not objected in the slightest, obviously, his hands had wrapped around her waist and pulled her so close that she was almost sitting on his lap, now one hand crept to her clothed knee and Cat felt the pulling sensation in her stomach again. Her hands had started their own expedition, right there on the beach in broad daylight, she had one hand on his broad chest, the other in his hair. His kisses were still heavenly and Cat felt dizzy although she had had only a few sips of wine. Charles' hand left her knee now and lifted the fabric of her skirt. The cooler air touched foot, ankle, then shin and finally her knee but she had not objected yet. This was absolutely wrong, of course she was aware of that. And yet, when his warm, slightly rough fingers caressed the pale, soft, untouched skin above her knee, Cat only sucked in her breath. His fingers lingered there, long enough to make her almost forget, then they crept up, not even an inch, but enough to startle her. Everything above that point was decidedly immoral and more than just indecent: She suddenly felt dirty.
"No." Her one hand pushed him away, the other tugged at the hem of her skirt that was now stiff from sand and salt.
Her cheeks burned and although she had done the right thing, embarrassment bloomed in her chest because she had rejected him, her heart stumbled and she couldn't look at him.
"I will go back to the others." She had already gotten up, determined to get away as quickly as possible, partly out of shame and partly out of anger. He shouldn't have-
"Forgive me." He did not touch her now but blocked her way to the secluded bay where Anne and Henry would surely wait impatiently for their return.
"I shouldn't have-" He swallowed and Catherine risked a quick look at his face only to be shocked again. He had gone red as a beetroot, his mouth was a flat, angry line and he had raised both hands as if he couldn't decide what to do with them. Was he angry at her or angry at himself?
"I got carried away, I'm sorry, that was- I never meant to- It will never happen again, I promise."
He looked like a forlorn little boy that had been caught doing something naughty. He looked sorry, more than that, he was full of regret.
"Sometimes I just don't think, I-"
Cat took his hand.
"Neither did I. Think, I mean. I'm sorry." That was not enough. "It is only a short wait now, not quite two months."
He smiled quizzically. "Yes, forgive me. It will not happen again."
And it did not happen again indeed, much to Catherine's chargin.
His kisses had lost all ferventness after that incident on the beach. Their encounters were chaste and even when they danced, he was careful where he put his hands. That was not what she had wanted at all- and so, after a late night discussion with Anne, she asked him to pick her up in her chambers. Compared to his, they were modest, but she had been quite happy here.
"Shall we go downstairs?" He stood in the door, his handsome smile was the same, the softness of his gaze as well. He still loved her, but he was careful now, too careful. In two months, they would be married. She didn't want careful, this felt as if they had already been married for twenty years. She wanted the thrill and anticipation- without the ultimate sin. She wanted to be a little more prepared.
"In a minute. Could you help me with this necklace?"
Of course he didn't say no. He closed the door and stepped behind her. She wore no hood today and had pulled down the bodice of her dress a little more than necessary to offer him a good view.
She felt his fingers at the nape of her neck, brushing away her hair, then fumbling with the clasp. Only when he had closed it did she turn around.
"Thank you." She took her time, looked squarely into his blue eyes, savoured the excitement that came with knowing what was about to happen, traced the outline of his shoulder with one hand, cupped his cheek with the other, and then, she kissed him. He tried to pull back after a moment but she kept his face pressed to hers and it didn't take long for him to take the hint and kiss her back. Cat sank down on an upholstered bench, ready to pull out another stop if he was. His fingers were in her hair, tousling the carefully arranged curls but she was beyond caring.
After another few minutes, she gingerly laid his hand on her knee, absolutely nervous about his reaction.
Charles Brandon was generally said to be slow on the uptake but this time, he understood with remarkable speed. His hand wandered up and down her cloth-covered leg, then up the bodice to the jewelled neckline. He did not try to squeeze his hand into the bodice like a digger, he merely caressed the visible part of her breasts, then broke the kiss long enough to nibble at her earlobe and kiss her neck very softly. She let out a sound that was half gasp, half moan when he did, because at the same time, the hand had slowly raised her skirts, and, when there was no objection from her, tenderly touched the soft skin of her thigh. His hand stayed there, only an inch above her knee, his fingers drew idle circles on her skin but never wandering upwards as they had before.
Charles' breathing was heavy and far too quick and the hand at her waist was trembling. Catherine was not a fool, she knew that this aroused him, heavens, it did arouse her.
Following a sudden urge that was decidedly unladylike, she put both hands on his chest and climbed on his lap, skirt ridden up to the knees to reveal her pure white stockings.
He gasped at her lips and pulled her closer but his hand still stayed where it was, not wandering further.
Catherine was as out of breath as he was when he finally gave her a gentle push.
"We need to stop now or I'll lose the last bit of sanity, little wildcat." His voice was hoarse and his eyes were almost black. Cat climbed off his lap though not without noticing that his body had reacted to the closeness as well.
"You might want to-" He gestured towards her crumpled skirts, the loosened bodice and her tousled hair. "Wait."
And he helped her smooth out the fabric of her dress, brushing over her legs and backside in the process and Cat let out a very embarrassing gasp of surprise whereupon he kissed her again, more chastely this time but not as chastely as before.
"You have bewitched me, Catherine Stafford, and you will find that that is against the law." he mumbled into her ear. "But you are lucky: I enjoy your enchantment so much that I will not report you."
"Then I have cause to be grateful, Your Grace," she whispered back playfully, her fingers digging into the fabric of his doublet.
"We should go, wildcat. As much as I would love spending the night with my hand half up your skirt- Ouch!" He jumped backwards when she slapped him lightly on the chest. "I deserved that. As much as I would love it, we are expected. But whenever you would like me to fasten your necklace-" This time, he caught the hand that was about to hit him, and pulled her close to press a last kiss onto her lips. "I'm always at your service, mademoiselle."
"Well, your French is far better than I would have thought." Cat smirked and Charles rubbed his forehead in feigned despair. "And she mocks me again. Does this ordeal have no end?"
"I am your odyssey, I fear."
"You are both the journey and the safe harbour, Catherine." He took her hand.
"Now, we should look respectable." Cat brushed his hair away from his face with her fingers.
"A little better. I fear this is as good as it gets."
He tickled her for that until she squealed.
"Now, your hair. I like it that way, truly-"
"Only because it were your hands that created this crow's nest." He looked far too smug when she tried to brush out the knots quickly and rearranged the jewelled headpiece with his assistance.
"There." He kissed her on the head. "The future Duchess of Suffolk, looking respectable for once."
"I think I might be happy with being a Countess as well," Cat retorted with a smile as they walked down the stairs together.
"I'll talk to Henry on the morrow, he'll make me an Earl, I promise."
Shortly before the reached the Great Hall, he let go of her hand reluctantly.
"Save me every dance."
"Every second dance," Cat replied sternly.
"Is that how quickly your love for me deteriorates?" He looked as if he wanted to kiss her again.
"But so be it. Your wish is my command. Mistress Horsman there looks rather lonely. Do you think she would like to dance?"
"Are you trying to make me jealous?"
"Does it work?" He smirked.
"Perhaps a little."
"Good. I'll be over there with the king like the spurned lover that I am. But be warned, I insist on dancing every second one with you."
"That is rather bold considering your talent on the dancefloor. Do you not fear your bride will run away?"
He gave her an easy smile and pulled her close for all to see. "Actually, Lady Catherine, I do not. She could have had almost every man in this room, and yet she chose me. There must be something about me she liked. Perhaps it is my skill on the dancefloor-"
Catherine swayed her head.
"Or perhaps it is my title." Charles grinned. "Either way, my lovely bride will not run, I'm quite certain. I promise, I'll be as meek as a lamb."
Catherine snorted.
"You should save the fairy tales for the children, Charles."
She had not meant the children they would have, neither had she meant to call him Charles, both had just slipped past her lips.
And Charles rewarded her with a smile that was neither smirk nor smug. He squeezed her hand a bit too tightly. "I will, little wildcat."
The next chapter will have an actual plot, I promise^^. I couldn't find a royal manor that was close to the sea but far from a town and I didn't want to make one up so I just didn't name a location. We are in the years 1531/32 now, roughly at least. So much for historical correctness, I guess.
xenocanaan, Child of Dreams, unique16, impala winchester salvatore, dear guests: Thnaks for your feedback! I'm so relieved you liked the last chapter. It was terribly cheesy in parts and I'm happy you were satisfied nonetheless. I am an inexhaustible source of drama and fluff and I promise there will be more of both ahead.
Princess07890: Thank you for reviews! I confirm your suspicion, there will be a wedding next chapter, unless a catastrophe precedes it, that is^^.
Guest: Charles' dislike for Anne has been the cause for some trouble in the past and I fear it might be a source of drama in the future...Perhaps. Thank you!
pulchritudo in omnia: (A great name by the way!) Oh, I was so happy about your review and I can totally relate, I'm in a constant Tudors phase. I also feel honoured that someone who is apparently very well informed about the historical facts reads my now absolutely AU story that tried to squeeze in a better bride for Brandon^^. I do like Catherine Willoughby but she was his son's betrothed and all and come on, that's just not very satisfying.
There might be a bitter, or perhaps rather a semi-sweet happy ending, I'm not sure yet. As much as I love drama, I love fluff as well, that's my burden. I absolutely love Anne, she was so much more than the woman who sparked the Anglican Church or Henry's wife and we only ever see her flirty and political side which is sad. I wanted to show her from all angles and that involves Catherine's as much as Henry's and Brandon's. I always plan to have Henry speak to Charles about his feelings for Anne and then I get carried away because all the drama needs to be written too but I promise, we'll see his point of view soon, too, especially because I have to catch up on world politics now. Thank you for that absolutely lovely review, it really gave me extra motivation to finish this chapter soon.
ShinyRedPenny: It's nice to hear from you again, and just when I was about to update! I'm so glad you like my version of Anne because I really, really want to do her justice. Thank you for your review!
