Author's Apologetic Note: It took me half a decade once again but I'm at uni/ work from 8am to 8 pm every day which really sucks to be honest, and there's that real life that keeps knocking when I want to write my fanfiction...
This is the first half of their journey to Calais which originally took place in September 1532 but I pushed it to early January 1533 because there was already Cat and Charles's wedding in autumn and things are just generally better in winter^^
Anyway, enjoy, please review if you find the time!
~o~
December, Whitehall
~o~
Catherine
~o~
"We are going to France!" The train of Anne's red velvet gown swept the floors clean but she didn't care. "Francis will receive us, he will receive me as the future Queen of England." She took Cat's hands and whirled through the room. "Oh, I am almost there."
She was.
"When?"
"Right after Christmas. And Henry has hinted at a grand wedding feast and Archbishop Cranmer has declared the king's marriage to Katherine null and void. It is only a matter of months now, maybe weeks."
The joy had brought colour to Anne's cheeks the normally artfully arranged hair had come undone. Strands of dark hair peeked out from underneath the veil and the hood was only held by a few pins, it seemed.
With one impatient move, Anne took it off. "Won't belong until I have to wear it all the time," she smiled, "So I show my hair while I still can."
Henry and Anne's good mood was contagious and the Christmas feast that year was out of the ordinary. Henry had ordered a new ship with sails of green silk and Anne's likeness carved into the figurehead. Anne had bought matching saddles for her and Henry, spears, longbows and a very fine sword with a hilt enlaid with rubies, the stones of lovers, and Tudor green emeralds.
In his euphoria, the king had allowed Cat and Charles to go to Penshurst from Christmas Day to the first of January. Snow had fallen all over England, even in Cornwall, and the heavy white blanket muffled the sound of the hooves and made the short way to Penshurst a small adventure. The horses slipped on frozen pools hidden by inches of snow but Cat had reason to be thankful for all the snow when her horse, startled by something that was apparently a small frozen stream underneath its hooves, decided to continue its journey without a rider on its back.
Charles was next to her within a second.
"Don't move. Are you hurt?"
"Only by the disloyalty of my horse." Cat sat up and shook the snow from her hair. Her riding hat had apparently vanished into thin air.
"Where is that beast?"
It had been a good horse, one of Henry's finest steeds, he had lent it to her especially for the journey to Penshurst.
It was nowhere to be found.
"Someone gets a very generous Christmas present then, apparently."
And they would have to get Henry a new horse. Hungarian perhaps, they were trained better than those fierce French stallions.
"Well, it looks like we're riding double then." Charles helped her up.
"So I will leant against your noble chest, protected by your strong arms while I hold the reins?"
She planted a quick kiss on his cold cheek.
"As if I'd ever allow you to take the reins," he whispered back, "You can lean against my noble back, wrap your arms around me, and keep me warm."
"As if you could allow me anything!" She walked over to his horse and had mounted before Charles had even reached her. "I really wish I had married a gentleman."
"He would have bored you," Charles tugged at the hem of her dress so that the fabric would more gracefully and looked up at his wife with a mischievous grin. "No one to look down upon."
She looked down at him. "I allow you to sit behind me and keep me warm then."
"I have a generous mistress and I will show you my gratitude once we're home," he whispered, his cheek cold against her temple and his warm arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
Cat spurred her horse without another word and his breathless chuckle was reply enough.
Their time in Penshurst was over too soon. Everyday they had gone for long walks through the parks, George and the older girls on horseback (Mary had fearlessly mounted her new pony, a very gentle and beautiful palomino), little Kitty on Charles's arm, wrapped in furs and wool.
Once again, their goodbye was sad and teary but a promise that they would be back before lent helped to dry the girls' tears.
"I would love one of our own," Charles said on the way back, so quietly that the servants did not hear him. "One with your eyes and hair and my - erm, nose, perhaps? We already have an Elizabeth, which was both my mother's and grandmother's name but my aunt was called Alice. Alice would be nice, don't you think? And Henry for our first son. And Edward and … Eleanor for your parents?"
Cat felt as if the snow around her had relocated and found a place to stay in her insides. She was still not expecting. Their wedding had been months ago but she was still not with child. Only the day before yesterday her bleeding had started and Charles was aware because she had chosen to sleep in the Lady's Chamber instead of sharing his bed. Why was he so indelicate?
"Wonderful." She forced a smile. Perhaps she wouldn't have a child at all. Perhaps they would have only one daughter, just like her namesake, the queen. Princess Dowager. Perhaps the Lord would punish her for her crimes against his law, for her support for Anne, and she would not be able to have children. Charles would be disappointed, he would find consolation elsewhere.
"Then maybe William. For Compton, and also for my father. Perhaps Anne for another daughter? Do you like Anne?"
I would like to live, I would like to spend at least a few months of my childbearing years outside the confinement chamber and I would like to stop discussing this.
"Anne is lovely and Nan would be so pleased. Look, is that a deer over there?"
"Might be." Charles didn't even take a look. "Henry would like to be godfather, he told me before we left." Brilliant. So he was already talking about their children with the King and God knew whom and she was as far from being pregnant as the old queen? Princess Dowager.
"I thought perhaps Thomas More would like to be godfather as well. He'd make sure our child receives the best possible education. Doesn't he know Erasmus himself? And who knows, perhaps your Anne would like to be godmother? Or your sister?"
"I am relieved that you gave this so much thought but you might be a little bored in the nine months before the actual birth of our child if you continue planning his or her future in this much detail. I'd like to speed up if you don't mind, I'm freezing."
She spurred her horse but the mare from Penshurst was not as quick as Charles's fine steed and he caught up with her without effort.
"Are you feeling alright? You've been behaving oddly all day yesterday as well."
"I haven't. I'm just cold."
"You miss the children, don't you? So will I."
A good excuse and at least one half of the truth. "Yes, terribly."
"You're not used to it yet but you will be,"Charles squeezed her hand, "And I am sure Henry will understand if we choose to stay at Penshurst longer once we have welcomed our firstborn."
Not only did he remind her of the fact that he already had two healthy daughters with a woman that eclipsed Cat in every possible way, his boundless optimism also angered her.
What if I won't have children? What if you'll never have the son you've been waiting for? What then?
Of course she didn't ask him, she didn't want to plant the seed of doubt in his mind too. Soon enough there would be talk at court anyway. That their union had been cursed from the beginning, that this was the Lord's response to her behaviour with Talbot, that this was what she deserved after marrying a commoner and his punishment for being such an upstart and for marrying the daughter of a traitor. That she was infertile, that he would soon look at other ladies again, that she did not have it in her to tame a womaniser like Brandon.
She was still angry at him for being such a tactless, optimistic fool but there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say to ease her suffering without making it worse. Forced to keep these poisonous fears to herself she tried a convincing smile.
"Surely. I'm looking forward to it."
Quickly, so quickly that she almost hadn't seen it, Charles gazed at her belly, flat and empty under the tight corset.
"We have to be careful now. I heard apples are good for women then. And Lady Herbert's midwife said that it would help to drink goat milk every morning, laced with onion juice."
"Why would you know that?"
Charles turned a dark shade of pink. "Because I asked her. Saw her in the yard when she changed the sheets."
Unbelievable.
"I will not drink goat milk mixed with onion juice but you can try it of course."
"Well, it's not-" he stopped abruptly, then smiled brightly. "It will be wonderful, I mean."
"Me." Cat's voice was now as cool as her insides.
"Sorry?"
" 'It's not me.' Isn't that what you meant? That it's my fault not yours?"
"Catherine – " His gaze was soft with guilt and regret and disappointment. She couldn't bear it.
"It's only been a few months, Charles. But if you're so desperate for a new child because the older ones bore you, I'm sure you'll find some children with the Brandon nose in the brothels of London. Or you can make some new ones there, as you wish. But I would be grateful if you stopped pressuring me. There is nothing wrong with me, I was innocent and healthy and the Staffords have always been fertile."
She spurred her horse once again without even looking at him to hide the tears that were pricking in her eyes. She allowed them to fall as she galloped ahead and this time, he did not follow her.
Charles did not follow her this time because he did not want her to see the pain her words had caused. He did not understand that her overreaction was the result of her feeling of inadequacy and her own nagging doubts about her fertility. They had shared the marital bed almost every night for over three months now and Charles was certain that they would soon be successful. He had not truly doubted her fertility but he was impatient and being Henry's friend, his trust in medication was considerable. He had not meant to criticise her nor had he realised that she felt accused of failure.
From his point of view she had been unnecessarily cruel and hurtful with intent.
Only barely did he contain the anger that welled up in him, fuelled by disappointment and hurt feelings. He had lived like a monk for the past years while she had been flirting with most of the eligible noblemen at court. He had never insinuated what she had dared to -
They spent the rest of their journey brooding in silence and at Whitehall they took to their own chambers without a word of goodbye.
Before sunset they had reconciled though and got ready for the banquet that night in perfect harmony. Charles said nothing about children, Catherine made no comment about Charles's past: everything was well.
The first days of January passed without further fighting and although it was obvious that Charles was trying hard to conceive a child, he never repeated those words he had spoken on their way to London. Catherine was not sure whether it had been Anne who had broken her promise of secrecy and intervened or whether Charles had deduced the truth from her reconciliatory words himself. Whatever it was, she was grateful and did her best to be truly and completely happy. She was, most of the time, only sometimes, when she lay awake at night, listening to Charles' regular breath, or when she was in the Great Hall, listening to Lady Derby and Lady Fitzherbert and the newly married and now pregnant Lady Wallop, discussing midwives and childcare and governesses, she felt the weight dropping back onto her stomach. It was not fair. Lady Wallop was already visibly pregnant although she had married Sir John only half a year ago. Lady Derby was a mother of two and Lady Fitzherbert had enough children to populate the ancient City of Rome, Charles had often japed. Most of all did Catherine hate the looks. Directed at her belly, the tight laced corset, always laced with fake sympathy and honest malice.
When they set sail for Calais, she was relieved. Two weeks in France, the perfect chance to get away from court.
She would spend the time with Anne, discussing French fashions and ladies, walking through the halls and corridors she had walked through all those years ago when she had still been little Cat Stafford, the Duke of Buckingham's youngest, and some said favourite, daughter who could hope to make a great European match. Back then, even the dauphin of France had not been too far above her. The Staffords of Thornbury were and old family and as noble as the King's.
This time, she would be Catherine Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk. Charming gentlemen would bow in front of her and sing songs of her beauty but no dauphin, no Duke of Mantua or Count of Toulouse would look at her twice. She was spoiled goods now because of her marriage to the son of a standard-bearer.
Fortunately, she noticed that she didn't mind. She wouldn't have been happy as Duchess of Mantua, as Countess of Toulouse or as Dauphine of France. She was happy now though, married to a man whose grandfather might have fought in her own grandfather's army as a lowly foot soldier. It did not matter. Charles was the only man she had ever wanted.
They arrived in Calais just before noon.
~o~
Calais, France
~o~
Charles
~o~
Being married to Catherine had a lot of advantages. The major one was being married to Catherine. Apart from that though he noticed that people's attitude towards him changed. It had been the same when he had been married to Queen Mary Tudor. Suddenly, people asked his opinion. He had always been popular with the people but more and more noblemen, true noblemen, came flocking to his audience chamber, seeking patronage. It was Catherine's patronage they really sought, of course, but he didn't mind. Neither did he mind when he received the second best chambers in the royal palace, right after the Lady Anne's. Last times, his rooms had had fine silk tapestries but windows that looked over the road. These chambers offered views over the gardens and the river Aa. French noblemen had always liked him but now that he was married to Mademoiselle Cathérine, as they still called her, there seemed to be a different kind of respect.
He trod carefully with his wife at the moment, not wanting to cause another fight with careless words. By now he had figured out that she felt pressured. Of course she did, he had pretty much told her that it was her fault that she was not pregnant yet. Sometimes, Charles, the king had said with a smile that was half amusement, half disbelief, I really wonder whether you ever consider your words before you give them breath. Unfortunately, he could not say he had given those words a second thought before he had uttered them. Never would he have thought that she could take them that way, simply because he had not meant it that way.
Defeated and ashamed, he had apologised the same day, had pretended that he had not noticed her dried tears because he knew she would have been embarrassed. Ever since he had cursed himself for his carelessness, had been attentive and courteous and had never raised the topic again. He was desperate for a child with her, a little girl that looked like her, or a boy that looked like her, it did not matter. He wanted for them to be a family in blood as much as in name. But he would never pressure her again.
She had been looking forward to France and he had been careful to be just as optimistic and jolly although he had never felt less like travelling. This was a trip for the Marquess Anne who resided in great pomp and luxury and held court as if she were queen. No one was stopping her now. In France, she would parade her new wealth and Henry would hear Francis' vows that he would always support Anne as queen and never Katherine and her uncle, Charles V.
This was a trip to ease the King's conscience and give his mistress something to do and Charles would have given at least a quarter of his world possessions (well, perhaps a fifth) to stay at home in Penshurst with Catherine and the children.
Alas, the Duchess of Suffolk was direly needed as a companion for the Lady Marquess and Henry needed his friend to discuss the beauty of his mistress and the great support and admiration the French would offer.
He was really not looking forward to it. At least the wine would be good – and he would be sharing Cat's bed every night because they were sharing these noble chambers. Things could be worse, he mused.
"Are you even listening?"
Catherine had apparently asked him a question. She stood there in a fine light blue silk dress that made her look like a fairy princess from a play and held up a string of pearls in one hand and an aquamarine necklace he had given her once in the other. That was easy.
"The stones." Charles smiled confidently.
Catherine raised an eyebrow. Wrong answer.
"What's the matter with you? You have been wandering around in trance ever since we left Dover. You didn't get seasick, did you?"
That was honest concern in her voice and Charles bit his lip and tried not to smile.
"Never got seasick in my life. I'm just … looking forward to the next two weeks tis all." Especially the nights. And the mornings. At court, Cat was always busy with her friend, from breakfast to supper. Here, Lady Anne would have other duties as well. Meet the French Queen and noblewomen, spend time with the Kings of England and France, show her gratitude. At least Henry hoped so. He had brought the crown jewels as a gift for her to wear, a gift he would reveal soon, hopefully.
"So am I." Cat smiled. "Now, do you think there be time to change after the reception? This is not a fitting gown for a ball."
Charles didn't see why it wasn't but he understood that that was not the point.
"There's always time to change for the Duchess of Suffolk." He stepped behind her, lifted the dark golden curls from her neck and fastened the aquamarine necklace around her throat, not without placing a few strategic kisses on her jaw and neck. Her eyes were dark when she turned around to him with a mocking half-smile.
"I fear it might take longer if the duchess takes her husband with her."
"There's always that risk. But the duchess can be as late as she pleases. That's the good thing about being so noble."
"I wasn't aware that you know how it is to be noble." She was playing with him now, her fingers rested on the lacings of his doublet innocently enough but she pressed her body against his in a way that made him react.
"Yes, go on, wound my pride," he kissed her a little too passionately. Her cheeks were bright pink and her hair was a mess.
"You'll heal." She smoothed down the fabric of his doublet.
"Not with your help, that's for certain."
She only smiled at that.
"Now I have to fix that bird's nest that used to be my hair do. How am I supposed to fit these under the hood? Betsy braided it neatly but now I look as if I spent a night in a haystack."
She did.
Women were always funny with their hair so he helped her fix it as well as he could.
Cat fixed the French hood, straightened it half a hundred times, then she was ready to go downstairs.
"You are beautiful," he mumbled.
"Thank you," she rewarded him with a quick kiss, "You don't look too bad yourself."
The French king praised the English ladies' beauty when he arrived, hand in hand with his mistress, a lively blonde with a pretty face and piercing blue eyes. While Henry took no offense, Lady Anne was furious and had to be calmed down by her ladies and her lover once Francis had withdrawn.
She herself was not even a royal mistress and still she had the audacity to make a scene. Charles could not help but think that Queen Katherine, despite her stout figure and tired face, would have born herself with far more dignity in the same situation and would have never dreamt of offending neither the French king nor his royal mistress.
Despite her unacceptable behaviour, Cat had rushed to Lady Anne's side like a lap dog that had been called, he noticed with some bitterness, but Charles saw several mildly indignant faces. Even the Duke of Norfolk who had supported his niece in the past, even if only for his own advancement, shot the future queen a very nasty look, followed by a few rather disapproving words to Stephen Gardiner: "Sometimes I wonder, Mr Gardiner, whether we have been wise."
He did not say more, there were ears everywhere that would have liked to report the old Duke. But Charles had heard enough. Lady Anne would soon be their Queen. But only God knew what would happen if she continued to have fits like this. Henry would tire of her temper, Charles was certain of that. It was desirable now, as she offered a welcome change from old Katherine. But at some point, a sweet, soft-spoken lady would offer a welcome change from Mistress Boleyn's temperamental ways. And then hell would break loose. Because one thing was certain: Anne Boleyn would never accept a second lady in her marriage as her predecessor had.
He still didn't care a fig for Lady Anne in all truth. She was clever and witty and had managed to gain Catherine's friendship, that much he granted her. Charles had no hard feelings towards her, apart from the occasional pang of jealousy. She was too loud for his taste, too ambitious, too forward. He had always resented the grasping nobles that tried to wheedle peerages and lands out of their king and behaved like politicians in parliament, discussing everything, from astrology to religion, with unwavering ferocity and insufferable persistence.
The only reason why he tried to like her was because he had promised Cat – and because Cat would never stop loving the Boleyn girl like a sister. It was Charles's duty to make sure that if Lady Anne ever fell from grace, she wouldn't take Catherine with her.
Soooo...Not one of my most dynamic chapters, I admit, but we will see development especially in Anne and Henry's relationship next chapter! (Next chapter is half-finished, I couldn't resist to add some good angsty drama and perhaps a snowy veil?)
NotLoggedOnPenny (ShinyRedPenny, I take it?) : Nope, I'm German but I live in the UK :)
Xenocanaan: Thank you so much for reviewing despite the long wait!
Guest1: Oh yeah, I always wondered what would have happened if Elizabeth had had a brother...England would surely not be the same though and Elizabeth is hard to beat, let's be honest, she had the best of both worlds.
Bjosefine: Tell me about it! I found only very few multi-chapter fics with Brandon/ OC or Brandon/ Mary Tudor (second fave pairing but only with Henry/ Anne) , so I started my own. Perhaps one day, I'll write Brandon/ Mary. A girl can dream.
Guest2: I will never abandon a story. It might take a long time for me to finish it because I have no idea how to continue or no time to continue but I will always finish my stories :) Fortunately, I know exactly what will happen in this story, so I only need the time to put it in proper sentences^^. I'm glad you like the fighting!
