Chapter Seven

"A family breakfast? Why?"

The Queen's eyes snapped sharply to the servant bearing the King's request, keeping her head still as the finishing touches were put to her hair that morning. Her neck was stiff down one side from the hour of sleep she'd had on the window seat. It had taken her lady Charlotte shaking her by the shoulder to rouse her, such was her exhaustion after her disturbed night.

"The King didn't say, your Majesty." The man bowed respectfully and left the room at the slight wave from his Queen's hand.

Catherine sat, perplexed, as Charlotte fastened her jeweled necklace. Why would Henry call the family to eat breakfast together? He didn't often do that, and when he did, it was for an important reason – a discussion perhaps, but she would have been privy to such a thing beforehand. In preparation for an event, possibly. They would be entertaining Hungarian dignitaries within the week, but Catherine didn't think that would be a reason for Henry to call the family together. Not that she disliked the idea. She enjoyed seeing all her loved ones together around the table, her children and her husband. It was a rare and precious sight to her. Pushing the questions from her mind, she stood and picked up the light cloak that Charlotte had laid out for her and, wrapping it around her shoulders, set off to the dining room.

As she rounded the corner to the great dining hall, she could hear the sound of her children before she even saw them. Ripples of happy laughter and bubbling chatter – it was a lovely sound to Catherine's ears.

"Good morning, my darlings!"

Heavy chairs scraped bluntly against the stone floor as little ones ran to greet their mother, and Catherine paused by the long table, smiling down fondly at her children, a small head of hair resting under each of her hands as she was hugged from both sides.

"Mother! You look lovely today!"

"Good morning, Mother! I'm so hungry! When is breakfast being served?!"

"Mama, my dwess is dust like yours! See? See my dwess!"

Stroking little faces and dropping kisses on heads and cheeks, Catherine responded as best she could to the quick fire greetings. Her children made her feel all lit up inside, and she was grateful for the warm distraction from her more difficult emotions.

"Thank you, darling, so do you! I expect we'll eat when your father arrives, Charles – not long now." She cupped his cheek affectionately, and then turned to her littlest daughter. "Margot, my sweetness! What a beautiful dress! You look wonderful!" Catherine hugged her, and felt soft little arms wrap around her neck, and a slightly wet kiss press upon her cheek. How she loved her children! Standing again, she helped Margot climb back into her chair at the table, and greeted Francis with a warm smile, as he sat with Mary, opposite Margot. Smiling back, his eyes full of love and concern for her, Catherine was about to say something to him, when his eyes shifted their focus behind her to the entrance.

"Good morning!" a confident, deep voice rang out.

Catherine turned to see her husband striding into the room. She loved his stride in his leather trousers. He looked so handsome this morning. Shaking herself mentally, she took her seat at the table as he took his beside her. He smiled cheerfully round at his offspring, who greeted him in kind, and signaled for the servants to begin serving breakfast.

Henry surveyed his Queen as best he could without drawing her attention. He meant to see how she was doing, having woken to find no report of his wife being in poor health that morning. He wanted to reassure himself that she was completely herself, that Francis had been mistaken in his observation, and that she could perfectly well interact normally and cheerfully with her family as she always did.

By the third helping of eggs and another slice from the large roasted ham for his ravenous sons, he was feeling decidedly uneasy. He had watched Catherine as she had smiled and talked intermittently with her children, enjoying the rare beauty that was her face when she smiled a warm and genuine smile. She had greeted him cordially, though without much eye contact, but something seemed off, somehow… Henry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, uncertain eyes on his wife, as a servant removed his plate from before him. She seemed a bit absent, and her ever-present sparkle was missing. Even as she ate, she held herself somewhat stiffly, and he noticed that she had that same drawn, tired look as he had noted when he had visited her chambers the evening before. Leaning a little closer, his gaze searched her features. Were her eyes a little puffy? Frustration ate at him over his paranoia. She was probably fine, and he was allowing himself stress over something that wasn't even there. If Francis hadn't mentioned anything to him, he wouldn't be searching for signs of unhappiness and seeing things that could be his own imagination!

Henry sighed heavily, throwing his napkin onto the table more forcefully than he'd intended to with the flip of his wrist, in his exasperation. Catherine turned her head slightly towards him.

"What's the matter Henry?"

"Nothing. I - " Henry sat up straighter in his chair. "I forgot to tell the children why I summoned them to breakfast this morning."

The King gave a convincing speech about Royal duty and honour, and outlined the schedule for the week with the visiting dignitaries, and his expectations of his children during that time. Nothing out of the ordinary, but the younger ones nodded eagerly, proud of their status and keen to impress their father as part of such an important family. Waving her little children off with their nannies to attend their lessons for the day, and kissing Francis on the cheek as he passed her with Mary to see to their duties for the rest of the morning, Catherine turned to her husband, who was watching his fingers as they fiddled with the lace edge of the tablecloth.

"Why did you really summon the family to breakfast, Henry? Surely not just for the sake of the Hungarians visiting."

Henry shifted slightly in his chair, unsure how to explain his motives. "Is there something wrong with a man wanting to share breakfast with his wife and children?"

"No," answered Catherine, quietly, "But it's not usual."

Her husband stood from his chair, tall and strong, looking down at her now. She avoided his eyes, focusing on his chest, partly because of the aggravated muscle in her neck, and partly because she knew her resolve wasn't at its usual strength. When he spoke, his voice was soft.

"I was… concerned. You seem pre-occupied, and I wondered – I wondered if all is well." Henry rubbed his neck awkwardly. "I… regret… our conversation in the throne room yesterday."

Somewhat astonished by what appeared to be – could it be? – an apology from her husband, Catherine turned her eyes up to meet his. She did not expect to see such concern, and even perhaps affection, bearing down on her from those handsome dark eyes. Feeling disarmed by the unexpected sight, she faltered, eyelashes fluttering back down again, fingers twisting her rings absently.

"I appreciate your concern. I am just tired, Henry. I haven't been sleeping well of late."

He reached his hand up and cupped it around the soft side of her shoulder, tenderly shifting his hold down a little to her upper arm. He had been so distracted by hurt, and so focused on feeling angry towards her for so long. Allowing himself to set those feelings aside, he was taken aback by the strength of the love and affection for his Catherine that overrode everything else, all of a sudden. It almost took his breath away. She was looking down, and his view was of the smooth coils of her beautiful strawberry blonde hair, her crown anchored neatly amongst them. Much as he'd remembered from his night visit, she seemed so little and vulnerable – very unlike Catherine – and something about her tugged at his heart. A surge of protectiveness flooded through him. He cupped her chin, and slowly tipped her face up so that he could see her.

"You do look tired, Catherine." Why wouldn't she meet his gaze?

"It's nothing." Why wouldn't he stop looking into her so deeply? "I will take a nap this afternoon. That's all I need."

Henry paused, recognizing one of Catherine's walls when he saw it. So she was keeping some sort of difficulty from him. Francis had not been mistaken. Well, he wouldn't have his strong, beautiful wife overwhelmed with a burden she felt she could not share. He took his hand from her chin decisively.

"Yes, do that, Catherine. I don't like to see you looking so tired." He bent his head and, to Catherine's surprise, kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "I will check on you later." His smile was kind and his eyes were soft as he lingered a moment, before turning and walking out of the dining hall, leaving the Queen to try to make sense of his actions, and her conflicting emotions.