A Jewel in Henry's Crown
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Charlotte's Confession
.::*::.
Charlotte continuously thought of Katherine that night. Why on earth was she letting a girl over power her? Katherine was two years younger than Charlotte and thought because she was queen; she could get away with everything. In her deep sleep, Charlotte cursed the queen. She hoped for all the worst luck on the young woman. Katherine Howard knew nothing of the world except pleasure and adultery. The duchess woke up with a sharp gasp as pain inflicted in her womb. Charlotte was due for her pregnancy sometime around the first week of August and it had only been mid-July. She could not have an early birth. She turned on the candles and kicked her covers off. Blood had leaked onto the sheets and through her night gown.
"Mama!" Charlotte screamed. "MAMA!"
Two maids came rushing in with Lady Wallace. She had been delivering early. Lady Wallace had demanded for more maids to come help with the birth.
"My dear Charlotte, you are giving birth too early. We will have to have you checked properly after the physician has seen you."
"Write to the king!" Charlotte yelled. Lady Wallace stepped out of the chambers as the maids prepared Charlotte for her birth. She let out a sharp yell as a hard kick went through her womb.
"Your Grace, you must push. He will not be able to come out on his own." One maid said. Another maid sat beside her and placed a cool rag on her forehead. Charlotte pushed again, screaming in pain.
"It will not—"Charlotte began. Another scream escaped her throat. Minutes later a baby could be heard crying.
"Your Grace, you have another coming! One more push!" the maid cried, as she handed the crying baby to the wet nurse. Charlotte did as she was told; shocked that she was to have twins. "It is another!"
"What are they?" she asked, breathlessly. The maids smiled.
"A boy and a girl," the wet nurse announced. "The girl is the eldest by two minutes."
Charlotte allowed tears to fall and dropped her head back into the pillows. The wet nurse fed Charlotte's son as soon as he was born. Another maid had gone to open the windows to let in the cool night breeze.
"You have done well, Your Grace," said the maid who was sitting beside her.
"What is your name?" asked Charlotte, to the maid.
"Philippa Winston, Your Grace," she answered. Charlotte took her hand and smiled at her.
"Thank you, Philippa, for helping me."
The two women smiled and chuckled. Charlotte had asked to see her eldest daughter and allowed Philippa to hold her son.
"My beautiful daughter," Charlotte sighed. "She shall have the name Eleanor Philippa Brandon."
Philippa smiled at Charlotte. "You have helped me with my birth and so my child shall bear your name."
"I am of no importance; I have no respectable family—or a husband."
"I shall find you a wonderful husband to look after you and perhaps raise you higher. I shall speak to His Grace when I return to Whitehall."
"You mustn't waste your time for me, Your Grace. I do not deserve it."
Charlotte laughed gaily and gave Philippa's hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Do not fret, Philippa, please; you shall be taken care of!"
Philippa bowed her head and smiled.
"What shall you name your son?" she wondered.
"Charles Rupert Brandon," Charlotte answered. "Rupert was my father's name."
"I believe Charles is the name of your husband?" Philippa inquired. Charlotte replied with a nod.
"I wish for you, Philippa to be their godmother."
"Thank you, Your Grace, I will accept it gladly."
.::*::.
A few days after Charlotte's birthing, she was able to walk and was fully healed—despite the pain she had to endure. She was walking in the gardens with Philippa, who was carrying Charles and Charlotte was carrying Eleanor. In the distance, she could hear horses and a carriage pull up to the front of the house. She wondered who could be visiting at this time. She had Philippa walk with her. As she saw the carriage, she recognized the flags and symbols immediately. It was her husband, Charles.
"Dear God!" Charlotte said, in a whisper. She watched as he stepped out of the carriage. Charles stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Charlotte and the other woman next to her carrying to infant children. He allowed his wife to come towards him as he still stared in shock.
"You had twins?" he asked, in bewilderment. She nodded and he looked at the baby girl in her arms. "Who is this one?"
"Eleanor Philippa Brandon,"
Charles leaned down and kissed Eleanor's forehead and pulled up smiling with joy.
"I have never had a more beautiful daughter than she." He murmured and kissed Charlotte before going to see his other child. "Who might this be?"
"Charles Rupert Brandon, your second son," said Charlotte. Charles took his son from the maid's arms and held him.
"Why do we not call him Rupert then? So there may be less confusion when he grows older."
Charlotte nodded in agreement. She looked to Philippa and smiled.
"Charles, I gave Eleanor the name Philippa as well because of my maid who stayed beside me and helped make my pregnancy easier. She stayed beside me the whole time to comfort me."
Charles looked at Philippa and she curtsied to the duke.
"You shall be given a handsome dowry of £600 a-year and you may come to court when my wife decides to return."
"Thank you, Your Grace, though I deserve no fine treatment as such; but, I shall do as Her Grace commands me."
"So you shall," Charles muttered before turning toward the house. "Charlotte, I must speak with you in private about the queen. I need to know what she has done to you."
Charlotte nodded and watched as her husband handed Rupert back to Philippa. The two ladies followed the duke into the cool house and went to Charlotte's chambers.
Charlotte was not so sure that she was ready to tell him yet that Katherine had threatened her and insulted her. She was not ready to put her trust to her own husband. What if he would tell the king after he left? Could she risk it?
.::*::.
"Charles, you mustn't be angry with me after I have told you what I have been feeling since the queen's arrival. Promise me!" Charlotte begged, as the duke and duchess sat in the lounging room. Charles nodded, knowing it would not be anything pleasant. "Her Majesty has taken a keen interest in spreading rumours and lies of me that are not true. She has called me a fornicator because my father was one."
"When did that happen?" asked Charles. Charlotte looked at her feet, avoiding all eye-contact with him.
"A week and a half ago before I departed from Whitehall Palace. She claims to have accusations that I have slept with Sir Francis Bryan and others in court; you know those are not true, Charles. I have been—in all honesty—loyal to you since the day you told me you loved me. Since my first miscarriage, you are the only other man who I have lain with."
Charles nodded again, in understanding. There was no lie in Charlotte's eyes after she had spoken her testimony.
"The queen is the reason why you left, then. You left—"
"Because, I could no longer bear the queen's insults and rash accusations against me; it was as though she was trying to turn you, the king and possibly even the Lady Rochford against me as well."
"Do you wish me to speak to the king of this?"
"No, please I beg you not to trouble yourself for this personal matter. He will believe no one but Katherine. As long as she is queen, he will favour not even me or you, my darling. I am not suggesting assassination; do not take my words the wrong way, Charles. I am merely stating facts."
"I know, my love. He was that way when he married that Boleyn whore. God, I hated them. I should have known how you truly felt, Charlotte, and I am sorry for judging your actions so precariously."
"I still love you with all my heart. Please promise me when you return to court that whatever you hear from the queen of me, you know what is false or true."
Charles got onto his knees beside her and kissed her. He traced her jaw line with his thumb and allowed his hand to caress the neck line of Charlotte's dress. She took hold of his hand and smiled.
"Do not even think to tempt me after I have given birth to two children." She giggled. "I long for you to make love to me again, but not yet."
Charles laughed and kissed her neck gently.
"Perhaps when you return to Whitehall, we may have an evening together again." Charles murmured, into her ear.
She giggled again as he played with the draw strings in the back of her dress.
"Yes, my darling, we shall."