A Jewel in Henry's Crown

Chapter Sixteen: Lord Wallace writes His Confession

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It took Charlotte a few days to fully recover from her miscarriage, but the physician of the court said she had to stay in bed until her wound healed. Charles visited her bedside. "How are you feeling?"

She smiled as she saw him and took hold of his hands, pulling him close to her. "I feel like my stomach was stabbed with a knife. It's awful. Has anything been done to my father?" Charlotte wondered. Charles sighed and sat back in his chair. Charlotte sent him a look. "Charles, tell me."

"By order of the king, he was removed from court and arrested three days ago. We have not executed him yet; not until the king's return to Whitehall. Mr. Wallace shall stay in his prison cell for three more months." Charles said, uneasily. Charlotte only nodded and began to braid her hair.

"How did my mother take this news?" she inquired.

"She asked to have him arrested, and so I wrote to His Majesty. There is one other thing, Charlotte."

She raised a brow. "Yes?"

"I wrote to the King about my asking your hand in marriage."

Charlotte caught her breath. "What did he say?" she asked, hoping the King would agree to this.

"I have not yet received a reply from him."

"Charles," she began. He glanced at her. "Come closer to me."

He studied her again before took his hand. Charles moved to sit on the side of her bed and ran his fingers through her hair, causing her braid to fall out. He traced her lips gently. "God, I have missed you." She murmured as she placed her hands on his chest and pulled herself up to kiss him. Charlotte moved and sat on her knees as she continued to kiss Charles.

"You've just had a miscarriage." He murmured as she was already taking off his shirt.

"Why should that stop me?" she returned, causing him to smirk and then grin. "It is not like this is treason, we're engaged. Besides, I am not even a virgin any longer."

He frowned at this. The King had broken his fiancé's virginity. Charles hovered over her and with one hand untied the nightgown she was wearing and traced his hand down her chest. Charlotte smiled at this and felt her heart begin to race. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She nodded slowly and kissed him as he pulled off her nightgown. He traced her curves, sending shivers down her spine.

Charles looked down at her and then pushed into her. She whimpered at first, until he began to go easy on his thrusts. Slowly, he pushed himself deeper into her. Charlotte panicked, trying to forget the nights with the King. This was Charles, the man she was in love with. Her previous experiences had not been pleasant; and, Charles could sense her uneasiness as she looked away. "What's the matter, my love?" he whispered, while kissing her neck.

"Why do you love me? I'm nothing but a whore to His Majesties' eyes and my father's."

"Never believe lowly of you, Lottie," he said. She smiled at the nickname he had given her. Before her teenage years, her father and mother would both call her Lottie.

Charlotte gripped his forearms and flipped him over, so he was beneath her. He chuckled. "Well, this is new."

She giggled and kissed him. He squeezed her waist, making her yelp.

.::*::.

Jane Seymour had not arrived at the Christmas celebrations just yet, but was on her way. In the main hall, courtiers were dancing and drinking. Sir Thomas Seymour was talking to Sir Frances Bryan, who had been summoned to court by the king. Francis Bryan had caught the gaze of Anne Seymour, and immediately coveted her. "Might I say, Sir Thomas, you have an exquisite and most charming wife." Frances commented, causing Thomas to send him a glower.

"If you are thinking of trying to seduce my wife—"

"Oh, get over yourself, man. Not even my cock would die to fit into her." He said, with a robust chuckle. Thomas grabbed a fistful of Frances' shirt and shoved him roughly against the pillar. A few people glanced at them.

"Do not ever speak of my wife that way. She belongs to me. Anne is not one of your exotic sex slaves, Sir Frances."

Frances smirked and Thomas released him and stormed off, awaiting the queen's arrival. Frances just continued chuckling and poured him a goblet of wine. Henry received Frances' look and nodded to him. Jane entered the hall, two hands on her stomach and she was smiling beautifully. Henry smiled and stood up when she walked to him. "My Queen, Happy Christmas,"

"Happy Christmas, Majesty," Jane returned, with a smile and curtsy. Henry kissed his wife and they sat down together. The music and dancing resumed. "How is your evening, Your Majesty?" she asked.

"It is even better now that my wife has come to stay with me. I have another gift for you." He said handing her a chest covered with preciously jewels and pearls. Inside, when Jane opened the gift was a crown made of pearls and diamonds. Jane gasped and held it up admiring it.

"This is beautiful, Majesty." She said. He smiled and she replaced her crown with the one she got.

"You look stunning."

She blushed and Henry kissed her hand. "How is your child?"

"He is well, milord. Let us hope you have a healthy child." Jane answered, kindly. Thomas came over and sat next to his sister.

"Hello, Jane,"

"Hello, Thomas, how is your Christmas?"

He sighed and looked around the court. "It has not been as delightful as I had hoped, Your Majesty. I think Sir Frances Bryan has caught my wife's eye. He seems to be coveting her and imagining her with no clothes on."

"Thomas, Sir Frances is doing business for the King. I do believe Anne knows better than to infatuate herself with a man who has no rights to even look at her."

"That doesn't seem to stop him." Thomas muttered. Jane sighed and poured her and her brother a glass of wine. "If he lays a hand on Anne, I'll have his head."

"Calm yourself, brother."

"Where is the Duke of Suffolk?" Thomas inquired. Jane looked around for him but he was missing.

"I have not the slightest idea."

She turned to her husband. "Your Majesty, the Duke of Suffolk seems to be missing from Court." Jane said, softly.

"He is visiting his fiancé at Whitehall. I presume you have met her; she is Charlotte Wallace."

Jane nodded and turned away from her husband. She had heard from Lady Rochford that Charlotte had had a miscarriage and felt pity for the poor girl. Charlotte had only been fifteen. "So, where is the Duke of Suffolk lurking about?" Thomas asked, jokingly.

"He's visiting his fiancée, Charlotte Wallace."

"Ah," Thomas said, smiling.

.::*::.

Hours later back at Whitehall, Charles and Charlotte were tangled in each other's arms and in the bed sheets of Charlotte's chambers. The fire was flickering in the room, allowing there to be a dim light. Charlotte had her arms wrapped around her fiancé. Charles was twirling a strand of her hair with his fingers as they lay together in silence. He sighed and kissed the top of her head. "When do you suppose we should marry?" he asked. Charlotte gazed up into his eyes and smiled. She hadn't thought of that.

"I was debating on either the first day of spring or then the first day of summer." Charlotte said, sweetly. "I certainly will not have my wedding while my father is still alive. I want His Majesty to execute my father as soon as he returns from Windsor."

"Her Majesty Queen Jane is pregnant." Charles added. Charlotte sat up. As she did, her long brown hair fell over her breasts, covering them.

"What?" she asked, raising a brow in surprise? Charles sat up as well and tucked her hair behind her ear. "When is she due?"

He shrugged and then stared at the fire. Charlotte moved closer to Charles, so she was able to wrap her legs around his waist and kiss him. "I'm not sure when her birthing time is; but I assume it must be when they return home."

"Oh," said Charlotte, plainly. She wasn't all too happy that she had lost her child and then that Queen Jane was pregnant. Jane could have had a son!

At least, Charlotte could become Duchess of Suffolk and have Charles' children. She leaned in to whisper in his ear next. "I want you to execute my father now."

"Charlotte—"he began.

"Then we can do what we please, Charles. Think about it."

She kissed his neck softly and then got up to go and sit behind him. He took her hands as she wrapped them around his stomach and kissed them. "Are you sure this is what you wish for?"

"Yes," she said, almost purring into his ear.

.::*::.

Spring, 1537

The Court at Windsor began to make things ready to return home to Whitehall. Jane was in her chambers and had poured out a pitcher of lukewarm water into a bowl to wash her hair. Henry walked around the room and smiled lovingly at his wife. She was so beautiful, and so fair. Unlike Anne Boleyn, she didn't have an appetite for revenge or stubbornness. She was sweet, graceful and a peacemaker. Jane looked up at Henry, and returned the smile as she washed her hair. "How are you, Jane?" Henry asked.

"I am well, Your Majesty." Jane answered, standing up straight and then drying her hair. "When are we to return to Whitehall?"

"Before the end of this week," Henry said. "Then the former Lord Wallace will be executed."

.::*::.

Rupert Wallace was sitting at his desk in his prison cell, much like how Thomas More was. He had a quill in his hand as he was writing a letter of apology to his wife and how he had not been the husband he should have been.

To Lady Wallace of Norfolk,

I am writing to you in this prison cell, looking back at all the sins I have committed against His Holiness. God had been good to all of us. He had given us wealth and position and I have wasted it and fretted it away like it was worthless. I have treated my family with such displeasure and distaste, that I know I must die for it. Through this confession, I hope God will have mercy on my soul and spare an eternity in Hell.

I struck my daughter, and killed her child with the abuse. And now, I must suffer for the act of murder. I have slept with numerous women and Charlotte has a half-sister now. Lady Anne Seymour had been with child; and it had not been Thomas Seymour's heir, but my own. I give my blessing to Charlotte and Charles to marry for love. I was wrong to judge my daughter's happiness. I ruined her…destroyed her and you have every right to loathe me. They both have my consent and blessings. I am no fit to be husband or father of two such wonderful women and I regret not spending time with my family.

Abigail, please forgive my evilness and my sinful nature. I will take whatever punishment His Majesty has for me and God's Judgment. May you and Charlotte both have peaceful lives after my execution.

Rupert Wallace, Lord of Norfolk

He had sealed the letter and signed it. "Guard!" he called. There was no reply. "Guard!" Finally, the guard opened the little window.

"Yes, what do you want?" he asked, rudely. Rupert handed the letter through the window.

"Deliver this to Lady Abigail Wallace of Norfolk. She is in the palace." Rupert said. The guard took the letter and nodded. "Thank you,"

.::*::.