Here comes the update! Two months late and not as good as I wanted it to be. I don't want to bore you with excuses but I feel bad for not updating for so long so you get them anyway: I was on holiday, then I was ill (properly ill, as in not-laptop-ill) then term started and I had papers and then I got a new job (which is great but very time consuming) and now I have to write my thesis. Anyway, pity party's over, here comes the new chapter! (Not properly edited on ff. net because I hate scrolling through 5,500 words, but I edited it on Word!)
Of course after that embarrassing two month wait I will try to have the next chapter up sooner but as I said in my TED talk above, I'm not sure whether these traditional 24h days work in my favour. Again: Sorry!
And thank you for all the favs, follows and reviews. I probably don't deserve them but I love receiving them anyway and it was that final review that made me go: "Ok, I'll do it now!" End of fishing for reviews.
Penshurst Place
~o~
Catherine
~o~
Penshurst was just as Cat remembered it: Airy rooms with modern, tastefully subtle tapestries and hangings, comfy but elegant furniture and excellent views over the countryside. The leaves were already changing colour and the hunting forest looked like a bed of glowing embers and yellow flames. The gardens would need an experienced gardener, in the years since her father's death, it had been neglected: Flowerbeds were overgrown with weeds, hedges that had once been properly trimmed looked wild and untidy now. Catherine did not mind so much, she liked the look of nature. But her mother had once invested much time and energy in the planning of the extravagant Italianate garden and she would not destroy her work.
The days felt both long and too short: The two of them went riding everyday, sometimes they took the children with them. George shot his first deer and felt like a crown prince afterwards. The sky was still blue and the air mild, though it smelled of plums and overripe apples and often, the sound of humming bees and singing birds was the only noise to be heard. It was a welcome change from the noise and haste of the court and she had rarely felt more peaceful.
Many gifts and letters arrived in the week after their wedding, so many that they sacrificed a parlour on the ground floor for their storage. Fine chairs and tables with ivory or silver inlays, expensive fabrics, cutlery and plates, a set of matching hunting saddles and a shower of jewels: On their own, they had been influential. Together, they were truly powerful with Charles at the king's side and Cat at Anne's. Her letters were few but full of hidden secrets and mysterious remarks and Cat assumed that her friend's strange behaviour meant that she was one step further. Anne would get what she had worked for all these years, and Henry, sick of Clement, would give it to her, no matter the consequences. There had been a mood swing in the country, subtle but noticeable. Suddenly, Anne was more than a whore. Everyone had noticed that she was no Bessie Blount, no Mary Boleyn. The Queen was a shadow at her own court, Anne had completely replaced her.
And the English people did not approve. Katherine was a Spanishwoman, still decidedly foreign in her manners and speech, and yet, the people loved her. Anne was one of them, she should have been even more popular, but she wasn't: The English were an unforgiving, grudging sort, and for every young, romantic maid and every impressed gentleman, there was a middle-aged woman who had to fear for her position, and a conservative who loathed Anne for the change she had brought. Anne had set the country in a roar- and would no doubt continue to do so. The country was as divided as the court, only that the noble and the rich hid their disapproval better for fear of repercussions. But Cat and Charles, blissfully ignorant in their secluded reclose, noticed only very little of the turmoil around them. On the seventh day of their honeymoon, an innocent letter shook their marital bliss for a moment. Francis Talbot had written a congratulatory letter. That in itself was no reason for ill blood. But it was cruelly addressed to Catherine Stafford, Duchess of Suffolk. The disrespect for Brandon's unprolific family name, with which the duke had tarnished his young bride, was only the first of many jibes. In front of Charles Cat had torn the letter into squares without reading it and thrown them in the basket next to the fireplace, only to retrieve them a little later overcome by curiosity. After reading it, she was happy that Charles had not been forced to hear this lampoon. Talbot congratulated her exuberantly but with every word he cursed their union as unworthy of her. She was, according to his not-so-subtle accusations, a cold hearted person who had married Brandon for title, fortune and position and was therefore a traitor of old values. But in comparison to Charles's treatment, Cat could not complain. He was an upstart without talent or intelligence, a spineless worm that had managed to get into the king's good books because of his looks, his father's death in service and more luck than any man deserved, least of them Charles. Talbot continued in this fashion and Catherine, after a moment of hesitation, put the pieces back into the basket. Those nasty words had shaken her, though not in the way Talbot had hoped. She worried about Charles' position at court. There were more who considered their marriage a mistake and although she did not think so, she was aware that Charles had to care. His influence depended on his popularity, not only with the king but also with the young faction at court, those that would have rather seen him married to a lady from a more common and less threatening background. A lady that would not empower those of the old blood and pure lineage.
They can grumble as much as they like, the king has given us his blessing. With his and Anne's approval, nothing bad can happen to us.
And because Cat was married for only seven short days and the weather was wonderful and Charles's daughters called for her, she managed to forget about the problems they would have to face back at court.
~o~
Charles
~o~
Charles had retrieved the letter from the basket not much later and could say now that he was happy she had not read it. Talbot insulted her terribly and Charles even more. It would have been easy to shrug it off as jealousy and forget about the sulking man. But Talbot stood for all those that disapproved of their marriage, and, Charles feared, there were quite a few. Thoughtlessly, he threw the pieces of paper into the fire and wandered through the empty rooms. Cat was upstairs with the girls and Charles knew better than to intrude. They got on well, his two girls and his wife and he was glad for it. Frances and Mary had been craving a mother all those years, despite his best efforts. Yet, he had feared they would be jealous of Catherine and her wards but there was no trace of bad blood between the children. George had developed an interest in horseback riding and Charles, who had been cruelly deprived of his only son, was only too keen to support this interest. Bessie, Cat's eldest niece and Frances were both very conscientious students (Franny didn't take after her father a lot, apparently) and Mary had made it a habit to drag the little Kitty round the house like a doll. She was careful enough though and Kitty seemed to enjoy it. Their life here at Penshurst was idyllic, too wonderful to last- and it wouldn't. Despite Henry's assurance that they could stay in the countryside as long as they wanted to, Charles' royal friend soon bombarded him with letters, one more pleading in tone than the last. Henry had his sweetheart to pass his time with and her many relatives but none of them could take Charles's place. Charles, still blinded by jealousy and an inexplicable dislike for Anne, took his friend's eagerness to have him back at court for a sign of boredom and a sure sign that Anne Boleyn's times would soon be over. He was mistaken.
~o~
It was late autumn when the two of them finally returned to court. The plums had been harvested already, only a few winter apples still hung on their trees, shining red gold in the weaker sunlight. It broke their hearts to say goodbye to the children, that much is certain, but neither admitted as much in front of them. Catherine was twice as cheerful to make their departure less painful for everyone and Charles did his best to lighten the mood.
"You will read to me when we return. Your French will be perfect by then, I hope, or I will be very cross indeed, young lady." He mussed Frances' hair.
"You wouldnt know, lord father, for you couldn't tell a subjonctive from an imparfait." The girl smiled. This was the longest period of time their father had ever spent with them since their mother's death, or perhaps it only seemed like that because he had been there, not up in his study writing letters or talking to tenants like he had at Westhorpe.
"Well, you have a point there, Frances. Why dn't you teach your lord father next time we're here? So we all have something to look forward to." Cat smiled at her husband mischievously.
"You have nothing to look forward to, my lady, I can tell you that much."
"It is 'Your Grace' for you, Your Grace."
Elizabeth and George, with little Kitty between them, were too used to disappointment to object when their aunt and uncle left them. With their mother's dark eyes they gazed up at them, not a word of complaint was uttered but they were just as sad. Without the duke and duchess, it would be calm in Penshurst: No father who would tell the teacher to take a day off, no Catherine who would tell them stories of wild beasts and countries so strange and foreign that they must have been an invention. They would go riding with the stablemaster, eat in the hall with the governess and teacher, play by themselves and fall asleep alone without hands to warm their ears and a fairytale to warm their hearts.
Mary Brandon had never learned to hold her tongue though and she had none of the shyness her unlikely stepsiblings showed.
"Will you come back for Christmas, papa?" No joke lightened the mood now and Cat was lost for words. Every excuse would be cruel, a lie even crueller. The truth was that they didn't know. Probably they would but no one knew what would happen at court and they had to be present for the official festivities, shake hands, smile, be seen. Prove all the sceptics wrong.
"We will do our best," Catherine said. There was no use in lying, they would figure it out anyway.
Disappointment rewarded her honesty.
"But if you are a good and conscientous girl, you might get a pony for Christmas. And then we can go riding together, mh, what do you thing, Mary?"
It was a desperate attempt and not very fruitful either.
"I don't want a pony. I want you to stay."
There was nothing they could say to that. Catherine, who had spent great parts of her childhood alone, too, knew that it would get better: This week would be terrible but the next would be better and in a month, they would have almost forgotten about them. She felt tears pricking in the corners of her eyes.
"Farewell, my darlings. Write! Every week. We will send you stories and sweets, I promise."
That much they could promise, at least.
And then they mounted their horses and left their home and family behind.
~o~
Hampton Court Palace
~o~
Catherine
~o~
Court had changed in their absence, whether for better or for worse depended on the perspective. Charles was not pleased with the strength of the Howard faction, especially with old Howard's secure position on the council. There was work to do and positions to reclaim and Charles wasted no time. He had a family, a growing family perhaps even, he had to thin of them too.
Catherine, because of her friendship with Anne and her kinship with the Duke of Norfolk more lenient when it came to the Howards found the court livelier, less stuffy but also more frivolous. She found one of the new maids of honour, some girl from Kent near Hever, on the lap of a young page boy with red eyes and strained laces. Her bodice was loose on her frame and when she turned around to hide her face, Cat saw why: The boy had been to eager and torn the laces. Court had always been a place of flirt and love and laughter, she was the last person to criticise courty love and games. But this went one step too far. They were right in the great hall where everyone, from the serving boy to the duchess, could see them. And worse, the boy had the Boleyn bul sewn over his heart while the girl had been suggested by Elizabeth Howard Boleyn, Anne's own mother.
This kind of lewdness was usually tolorated if it happened behind closed doors or - Cat blushed at the thought - curtains, but this was immodest and unseemly, even at the English court.
Within a fortnight, both had left the Howard-Boleyn household. It was an example of the changed tone at court though: Anne loved to read the bible, but it was the New Testament she preferred. And she preferred to discuss it. She was dangerously close to heresy at times but luckily, she was the only one Cat didn't have to worry about. Henry was, if possible, only more in love than before and Charles faced a grave disappointment. No one ever spoke of Queen Katherine who resided faraway from court with a princely household that consisted of those ladies and lords Anne could spare - Spanishwomen, the old, the witless, and the prim.
It was a surprisingly warm autumn day when Anne met Catherine for a walk in the garden.
"I have news for you, dear friend." She still smiled th old Anne-smile, part cunning, part mischief, part mystery. Only her eyes revealed her warm feelings for her friend.
"I cannot wait to hear them."
"I cannot wait to tell them! His Majesty, in his great generosity, has decided to give me a title and lands. He has given me the Queen's quarters and he will give me her crown - in time. First, he will make me Marquess. Marquess of Pembroke, like his on uncle!" There was honest joy on Anne's dark face.
"Oh, Nan, that is wonderful!" Catherine knew what this meant. Henry was not planning on making her a maitresse on titre, as many thought. He would have made her a Marquise then. No, he was planning on making her his wife.
It was without precedent. A woman as a Marquess. Anne would not take the seat in the House of Lords but apart from that, she was as good as all the othernoblemen of the realm, better than most even. Only Exeter, Norfolk and Suffolk equaled her in rank.
She received the marquesate and the crown in a ceremony that could have been a royal coronation. Anne wore red from head to toe and her long dark tresses fell to her hip in a silky curtain to remind all the people, noble and common, that she was still a virgin, untouched and pure.
It was like a scene from a fairy tale book and Catherine couldn't help but smile throughout the ceremony. There were many others though that did not share her happiness. One of them was her own husband.
Catherine and Charles were alone in their chambers after a grand feast. Midnight had come and gone and the wine and dance had only intensified their feelings. Cat blabbered about the ceremony and how happy she was that Anne had finally been given a reward for her work at the king's side when it dawned on her that her husband was suspiciously silent.
"You don't approve." The joyous laugh died on her lips.
"Why would I?" Charles asked, not even bothering to hide his displeasure and general annoyance. All night he had been strangely irritated, despite his japes and easy smiles.
"She is your friend's most beloved companion. The king is determined to marry her. She deserves a better title than Lady Anne."
"And why? Because she has wiggled her way into the king's good graces? Because her whole family came to court like a flock of crows over a battlefield full of carrion? All she has is the king's appetite."
"All you had was the king's friendship." Catherine objected. "He made you a duke for less." She knew as soon as the word left her lips that she had been uncareful.
"For less-" His jaws clenched. Charles was proud of few things, but one of those things was his loyalty to the king and refusal to play a prominent part in the game of courtly intrigue if it was not for a good reason. This however seemed to be a perfectly good reason to him.
"For less? I have certainly never tried to charm him. We were friends from nursery, you have no-"
They were married for a little over a month and they were already fighting. Wonderful.
"Forgive me. I didn't mean it that way."
He nodded briskly.
"It is just that Anne is not the way you paint her. She loves Henry, she does-"
"-So you deny her ambitions? If she loves him so much, why hasn't she given in to his advances? Why play this game for the crown?"
That shocked her speechless.
"Are you even aware of what you are suggesting there?"
He did look a bit ashamed.
"So every woman who does not raise her skirt for the man she loves is therefore overly ambitious and unworthy of affection, is that what you mean, Charles?!"
She was shouting now. At least the guards would have some secrets to sell.
"Catherine, I-"
"You what? No, I cannot say that I am surprised, really, not by someone-" For a brief moment, she wondered whether she should really cross that line. It wouldn't be wise. But wisdom had currently sought refuge at the very back of her mind. "Not by someone like you."
"Someone like me? A commoner you mean, someone without an old surname and no manners, is it that? Who doesn't speak French and who didn't read the scriptures? Who worked for everything he has?" There were red spots on his neck now and a fiery fury in his eyes. "Yes, I do think that she could have shown him more kindness. She is playing with him like a cat with a mouse. He has made a fool out of himself-"
"And that is her fault?! Her own sister has vanished in obscurity after Henry had his fill. Does anyone still remember Bessie Blount? But of course, you would never see that. I can only wonder what happened to all the women you abandoned."
Another line crossed.
"If I hadn't abandoned them, as you put it, you wouldn't be a duchess now."
"If you hadn't, I would be in Derbyshire now."
Ah, a Francis Talbot reference. Another line. Are you MAD?
Charles seemed to agree with the voice of reason that murmured insider her head. He looked truly taken aback now. Yes, that had taken it a step too far.
And yet, he had spoken about women in a way that Cat could neither forget nor forgive. It stung, especially because Catherine felt a sting of jealousy and - well, it was hard to give it a name, but perhaps inadequacy- every time Charles wild past came up. He was a novel and she was a blank sheet and she could not forget about that, no matter what he said. It was not his problem, only her own, she was aware of that. She felt inadequate because of her own insecurities and normally he did everything in his power to give her security. He married me-
Well, he had married three women before, all of them exceptionally rich, as it was.
Stop being so snappy, he loves you, you know it.
But feelings are changeable, and he had had more women than he was years old. The flirt was fine, but now he would have to keep to one bed. Forever. Or she would be forced to endure the shame her mother had endure - and Katherine had endure. She had even encouraged Anne to push the Queen out of her royal chair. He takes and He gives. He honours and He punishes. She would deserve it, perhaps...but that did not calm her fears.
"Well, I didn't have the impression that that was what you preferred-" His tone was oddly cold now and he sounded as if he had caught a sudden cold. I hurt him. Wonderful. Back for a week and we are back to fighting.
"Of course it isn't," she conceded. It could have ended here. He could have shown a sign of affection, she would have smiled and perhaps, it would have been forgotten.
I did not end here though. Unfortunately, Charles was as hot-headed as Cat was and he was angry. Of course Cat couldn't know that Francis Talbot was to him what Charles's past was to her. And so the poked bear attacked.
"That is truly interesting. I can understand why you support Lady Anne so vehemently, it is after all your favourite sports to toy with men, isn't it? I wonder whether you were a natural or whether that is what they teach noble young ladies at the French court."
Cat sucked in her breath. If she had been less angry, perhaps she would have seen that Brandon was as shocked as she was.
"I think you know best what they teach young ladies at the French court. Or the English. Or the Dutch. God knows, you got around a lot."
She felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. No, he would not see her cry. And before he could make a reply, she had whirled around, pushed the doors open, and, ignoring the ashamed guards, she rushed out of their quarters to the one person she could confide in:
Anne was with her sister and a few ladies but withdrew to her private chambers with Cat as soon as she saw the dried tears on her cheeks and the colour that had risen to them.
"We had a fight." Catherine was not sobbing, but the tears did not stop falling, now that she was behind closed doors again.
"About what?"
"About you, actually. But it turned nasty."
And she told Anne everything.
When she had finished, Anne smiled, which she took as a good sign.
"He is jealous of me, Cat. I am jealous of him, I admit it freely. The two people we both love most on this earth, we have to share with each other. He never had to share Henry, I never had to share you-"
"We are not pets, you know."
"I know. And still. Now he has married you, and still he has to share. It is not easy."
"But I have to share you with the king, and the king has to share, too."
"But you are sharing with a king! And your temperament is far different. You are generous and have never been possessive. I fear that both Brandon and I would like to have you and Henry to ourselves."
"I wouldn't want to share Charles with another woman," Catherine said, thinking of his long list of past dalliances. Anne laughed.
"See? I told you, you have no idea. That is not at all what I meant. See, we have grown up differently. Brandon and I are far more alike than he'd care to admit. You and Henry have been born into your high positions, everything came easy - well, relatively easy to you, at least when you were younger." Anne added the last part when Catherine was about to object. "Brandon and I had to fight for everything we have now, and we will always be scared of losing it again."
Catherine felt even worse about bringing Talbot up.
"You defended me and sided with me, for which I thank you. No one else would. But of course, that only furthers his antipathy." Anne took a sip of wine, no doubt French and expensive.
"It is not only jealousy, Nan. He seems to think you're bad for Henry, for England. He says you have been toying with the king, he says you are using him, that you are overly ambitious."
"Everyone at court says that, love. That is exactly what I made them say. Everything they ever said about Mary and Bessie Blount was that they had lost their hearts to the wrong man and pitied them. I do not want to be pitied. I will not be forgotten.
Brandon cares for Henry more than anyone else - but me." Anne smiled her very special Anne-smile, part smug, part suggestive, part secretive. "Of course he fears that I am only using the king - do not forget that that was exactly what my dear Lord uncle had in mind originally. How can Brandon know what happens between Henry and me when we are alone? All he ever sees is the facade. I admit, it was not very nice of him-"
"He was absolutely rude." Cat remembered her husband's words with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "He suggested that if you had loved the king, you would have given yourself to him."
Anne clicked her tongue disparagingly. "Henry said the same. Sometimes, men forget that the world is divided in two halves: One half that can do as it pleases and the other that has to watch its back all the time. They forget that a woman's social status depends on her virtue, that we are punished for all mistakes we make, and for most of their mistakes too. It was ignorance, not spite, Cathy. Men rarely think before they speak", she smiled.
"I admire you for your cool-headedness. I'd have my claws out already."
"I bet Brandon is still licking his wounds," Anne chuckled. "I might have become angry, but as a rule, only one of us can lose her temper, so the other can calm her down. Oh, heavens, imagine us stirring each other's fire. We'd be sent to a nunnery before the end of the week."
"You'll make a wonderful queen."
"I wholeheartedly agree. Yet, I fear we are alone with this unpopular opinion."
"Many support you!"
"But not out of idealism. My supporters are weathervanes, you know that. The young, the hungry and the upstarts. Men that fancy themselves in love with me. My family." She grimaced. "George thinks I'll make a good queen too, but then again, he thinks it would be wise to publically advocate the Lutheran convictions."
"Henry thinks you will make a good queen."
That brought a smile to her face.
"Yes. Perhaps. Well, he is more excited over the son he is certain we will have, but yes. He might think so. I'm resolved to be a patron of the arts, an advocate of humanist education and a supporter of the new faith. I will be generous to the poor and schools all over the country will bear my name. I will have my own college at Oxford. And of course I will have at least three sons who can fight for the throne upon their father's death."
"The whole world will hail you as Good Queen Anne," Cat smiled.
"Good? Brave Queen Anne. Witty Queen Anne. Great Queen Anne. No one remembers the kind ones."
"I am so relieved to see that you do not suffer from delusions of grandeur," Cat remarked drily but Anne only laughed.
"Oh, I do not suffer. I enjoy every moment of it."
Anne had always been able to make her laugh.
"I don't want to go back now. I don't want to talk to him right now. I'm still angry."
Anne did not approve, that much was certain.
"Of course you can stay here tonight. But it will only be worse in the morning."
That had been one of the rare incidents when Anne was actually wrong.
Catherine found Charles pacing up and down in her bedroom, apparently waiting for her.
"Cat!" And she couldn't breathe because he showered her with kisses. "I shouldn't have said any of it. Forgive me."
And her heart melted. She had actually wanted to be strong and unyielding, to make him admit his jealousy and mistakes. She had wanted to be proud and dignified, cool and reserved. She had wanted to win this fight.
"I'm so sorry," she said instead. "About Talbot-" Cat swallowed her ride whole, nearly choked on it but then spoke on: "I shouldn't have brought him up. I would have never married him, not if we had been the last two people on the planet. He was arrogant and selfish and despicable."
He shook his head. "No, it was me. I shouldn't have brought any of it up. Of course I didn't mean to say- About the skirts."
He actually blushed. That was rare.
"Forgiven and forgotten." Cat smiled. "It's only- Anne is my only true friend, Charles. She is a good person. She loves the king. And I love her. Do not speak about Anne like that, I cannot stand it. You do not know her and have no right to judge her. I'm certain you will grow to like her."
He did not look convinced. He did not look like he wanted to be. If at all, he looked like a man who wanted to evade a fight. "Well-" he started, even his smile evasive, "then I have to get to know her, I guess."
That would be a start, hopefully.
Gast: Der Titel (so far) ist "Es war einmal (Insert catchy subtitle here)' und es geht um die Grimm'schen Märchen, die es mir sehr angetan haben. Der Roman ist aber deutlich witziger als meine fanfictions (hoffentlich jedenfalls!), hier flowt mein Humor einfach nicht so. Ich liebe es, online Undercover-deutsche zu treffen!
I completely agree! I think the deterioration of his morals started with the execution of Wolsey and when he killed More, he had already gone a step too far. I don't think much of altering the past, mainly because I don't have the brain to figure out all the subtle changes that little twist could have resulted in. I reserve that for my fairy tales!
Thank you a lot for your review!
Princess07890: Thank you! I was so self-conscious about that part! Well, maybe. I promise, you will find out, perhaps next chapter? ;)
xenocanaan: Thank you for your many reviews! I'm so sorry if I kept you waiting.
Unique16: I already found that rather explicit to be honest - but thank you even more, I feel comfortable with that now. Feels weird to write stuff like that, at least to me. I'm glad yo liked it.
.salvadore: Thank you! I will be more self-confident from now on!
SerenadeSailing: I hope so too! He would not be the Charles I like though if he did. Does not mean there won't be trials waiting for them though, but I'm sure they manage. Thank you so much for your sweet review! It was the one that made me go "Back to writing now, you lazy pile of blankets and cookie crumbles"
Guest: I did! Late, but I did. And I will! I won't abandon anything on here, promise!
