A Jewel in Henry's Crown

Chapter Seven

The next few days in Whitehall Palace was filled with glorious celebrations in honour of Charlotte and her family. Henry had indeed planned a magnificent ball. There were tents held up high outdoors with tables stretched to both ends piled with food. Courtiers pranced about here and there with their lovers and there was music to be played as many hoped to dance. In the Great Hall, the main festivities were held. Charlotte was seated by the King and her father on his left. The bells had been rung to announce Charlotte's pregnancy. "Charlotte, may I have the next dance?" His Majesty asked, bowing to her. She smiled wryly.

"You may, Your Majesty," replied Charlotte. They rose together and the other couples dancing separated to make a path for His Majesty and Charlotte to join the dance floor. Once they were settled, a new dance was awoken. The courtiers bowed to the gentlemen and the dance began. It was a very fast pace quadrille. Every time His Majesty laid his eyes on Charlotte, she felt a piercing feeling through her skin, almost like when you touch a thorn of a rose. His lust was growing every day for her.

She was not surprised at the fact why he had such "animal-like" tendencies. He slept with one woman and then dismisses her from the court; never to be heard of again. Then he finds a new woman to amuse himself with. To Charlotte, the thought of it made him look like a man whore whose only satire was women in his chambers. Charlotte had a yearning to escape this prison. Her gaze turned to her father who seemed to be enjoying himself every moment; drinking and laughing robustly with his fellow companions at the King's table. Her mother, however, was not so pleased at the scenario her husband was putting on. It was as though Lord Wallace was playing King.

He was eyeing other younger women in the court as he drank from the golden goblet in his hand. Charlotte had caught her father being flirtatious to one of Queen Anne Boleyn's former lady-in-waiting. She told her mother of the matter. "Mama, I think father has been seeing another." Charlotte told one day, softly as they were playing cards. Lady Wallace looked at her daughter.

"Whatever are you talking about, Charlotte my dear?" Lady Wallace exclaimed. Charlotte sighed and placed her cards down.

"I mean, Mama, that Father might be having an affair with one of Queen Anne Boleyn's former lady-in-waiting. I do not know who it is. But, I did hear him and another in his chambers. She was giggling frivolously."

Lady Wallace sighed and looked away. "Had I been a stranger to your father, I would not have been so surprised. I take your word for it, my dear. I shan't mention it." She replied. There was a pause. "Has His Majesty asked for you?"

Charlotte shrugged and glanced out the window. "Well, he sends gifts and love poems to me but nothing more since he knows I am expecting." She answered.

The same courtier who her father was looking at was grinning at him and swaying back and forth, playing with the skirt of her dress. She stifled a giggle when he nodded to her. Charlotte took notice of this and sent the courtier a glower. His Majesty pulled Charlotte aside.

"I know I have not asked to see you, Charlotte; but I still have not forgotten about you. Once you birth my son, I shall see you again." His Majesty whispered, in her ear. She curtsied in reply and he left to the table. Charlotte could weep with exhaustion of this palace. She had wished so long to be at home again—or even in love and married to Charles Brandon, the King's Duke. Charlotte turned and hid behind a pillar when His Majesty turned his head. She sank down to the floor and let her tears fall. How can any woman stand this hell?

A shadow loomed over her and Charlotte gasped and quickly got up. It was Charles Brandon. "Are you well, Charlotte?" he asked. She shook her head and wiped her tears.

"No, I am not. I hate this Godforsaken place. It's like hell. I want to leave!" she whispered. Charles smiled and together, they went to see the festivities outdoors. There were jousting and archery tournaments; men drinking until they fell on their fannies. Women were in the tents, either gossiping or then in corners making love to men. Charles and Charlotte walked side by side around the gardens where there was less diversion. It was a warm day with a gentle breeze. "Charles, I do not know how to thank you for being here to help me." Charlotte started.

They stopped walking and looked at one another. The way Charles smiled made Charlotte's knees buckle under her. "Charlotte," he said. "I would be willing to help you for as long as you wish me to; unless if you wish to send me away."

Charlotte smiled. "I could not bear the thought of sending you away, Charles. If you or Lady Rochford had not been here, I doubt I would have survived at all."

Charles took her hands into his. "There's been something I have been meaning to tell you—"

Another mistress had come running and panting to Charlotte. "H-His Majesty—w-w-wishes for you t-to come immediately, milady." She exclaimed.

Charlotte nodded and gave Charles a sympathetic look before returning quickly into Whitehall Palace. I love you, Charlotte. That is what I wanted to tell you. Charles thought.

Charles sighed and walked back to the festivities. How would he tell her if the King always managed to steal her away? I will find a way. He thought. I will!