AN: Thank you so very much for the reviews, and for the reassurances! I really appreciate it and I feel better about my M chapter now, lol! :)

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Chapter 15

"Richard!" Henry's voice rang out in the busy corridor as he strode down it, thankfully not accompanied by Diane for once. Reaching Richard, Henry clapped him amiably on the shoulder. "How goes it, my friend? I hadn't managed to catch up with you yesterday when I returned."

"I am well, Henry, thank you. Your trip was a success?"

"It was." Falling into step with each other, they walked together along the castle hallway. "I missed our camaraderie, of course. Fancy crossing swords with me in the courtyard later?"

"Oh, I – I'm not sure, today, Henry. I don't know that I have the energy for such a challenge this afternoon!"

Henry sighed in mock exasperation. "What is it with this tired old castle since I left?! Does nobody have any spark or interest?! What has been going on in my absence, hmm? Catherine is exactly the same – tired and out of sorts. Have you seen much of her while I was away?"

Richard bit his tongue to stifle the remark he longed to respond to that question with, and instead replied nonchalantly, "A little, yes. She seemed much the same as usual to me."

Henry walked beside Richard thoughtfully. "I went to see her last night. You know how she's been regarding the heir business… I wasted no time in going to attend to that duty, but she turned me away!"

"She did?" Richard, careful not to show too much interest, was intrigued by this turn of events. "What could have possessed her to do that?"

"I don't know, but then, I've never understood Catherine and her ways." Henry huffed irritably. "She claimed to be feeling unwell, but when I pressed her, she said nothing was wrong, and that she was just tired – like everybody else here seems to be."

"And have you seen her today?"

"No. The woman is so exasperating! It's a good thing I have Diane. Catherine is so unfeeling - she shows no sign of having missed me at all!"

"What is there to miss?" muttered Richard under his breath, inwardly seething at this criticism of the woman he loved and knew far better than Henry, it seemed, for he knew that she was full of feeling and abounding in love and compassion. Unfortunately, he had not spoken quietly enough for Henry. He stopped in his tracks, anger clouding his features as he stared at Richard.

"What?!"

"I mean that – well, you hardly pay her attention when you're here, Henry, do you? You are with Diane almost continually, and Catherine knows it full well, like the rest of French Court. Should she be missing anything more than the occasional conjugal visit? Do you really offer her more than that?"

Henry looked at the floor, his hands clenching and unclenching, and Richard couldn't tell if he was simmering in anger, or if he was thinking about what he had said.

"I suppose not," Henry conceded at length.

"And why would she want to show you if she missed you?" continued Richard, perhaps unwisely, but he was impelled by his love for Catherine, and his desire to protect her. "The same reasoning might understandably compel her to keep her feelings to herself."

Henry snorted rudely. "Catherine doesn't have any feelings," he announced, but he appeared to consider Richard's words, and fell silent, taking up a slow stroll once again.

Richard breathed a quiet sigh of relief at his easy escape, chastising himself for being so foolish as to risk showing Henry even a little of his loathing for him, and for the way he treated Catherine. It would not be difficult for Henry to join the dots and realise that this disdain must be borne out of great affection for, or even infatuation with his wife. And that must never happen.

Henry stopped suddenly, looking apprehensive. "Look, Richard," he began, "Why don't you go and see her – I know it will be slightly odd for you to be calling on Catherine without me, but since you're friends… couldn't you go, just casually, and see if you can understand why she is being so cold? Let me know what you find out. I would rather have the upper hand, and that relies on me understanding the situation." He put his hand on Richard's shoulder. Richard, playing his part as best he could to throw off suspicion, looked away from his friend with a roll of his eyes.

"Must I?" he groaned, "You said yourself she is not exactly easy to talk to at the moment…"

"It would mean a lot to me, Richard."

Richard shrugged, and nodded as reluctantly as he could make it appear. "I'll try, but I can't promise anything."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Approaching Catherine's chambers, bearing roses from the greenhouse, Richard tried to rein in his delirious joy and excitement at actually being permitted by Henry himself to take his wife flowers! He maintained the bland, exasperated expression of one being sent on an errand of which he disapproved heartily.

He knocked and waited, loving the rich tone of her voice as she called out, "Enter!"

Closing the door behind him, he turned to her, holding out the flowers.

"For my beloved." He smiled, loving the way her eyes lit up at the gesture, and took her in his arms, flowers and all.

"Richard! Isn't this a bit… noticeable?!" She leaned into the bouquet, breathing in their sweet fragrance and humming approvingly, "Mmmm, I love roses! They're beautiful, but - "

"Henry allowed me to!" crowed Richard delightedly, "In fact he insisted that it might help if I brought flowers, to see how you were doing, and try to get you to tell me why you are being so distant towards him." He shook his head in disgust. "Can't he see that he's brought it on himself?!"

Catherine took the flowers from him, and laid them gently on her dressing table. "I will have one of my ladies put them in water for me," she said, turning back to face him. "Why is he so concerned, why now?"

"He said that he came to visit you last night and you turned him away."

Catherine looked down at her hands, picking at her fingernails.

"I have to say, Catherine, it did surprise me to hear it. It's not like you to refuse Henry. I know you love him still, and I know how much it means to you to conceive an heir for France."

"I do. I do love him still," she admitted, but said nothing more. Richard moved towards her in concern. She would not look at him, and continued to fidget in such an agitated way. He took hold of her shoulders gently, rubbing circles into them with his thumbs, and trying to coax her to look up at him.

"Catherine, what is it? Something is wrong – you haven't been yourself this past week, and I know you are withholding something from me. Please – won't you talk to me about it?"

She shrugged uncomfortably. If he didn't know better, he would say that she was frightened about something. Keeping his hands on her shoulders, he guided her firmly to the chaise and sat down with her.

"Catherine, my love…" he stroked the loose tendrils of curls back from her face. "You are anxious – I can see it. Please tell me. I can't bear seeing you struggling under the weight of a burden that I want so much to share."

She shook her head gently. "I don't even know… I have nothing to tell, as such."

"As such?"

Catherine sighed heavily, finally conceding to share her concerns. "Richard," she picked up his hand and turned it in hers, tracing the lines of his palm slowly. "You are right. Something is worrying me – a great deal, in fact." Richard waited, watching her face.

"I – I did not have my monthly bleeding when I expected to the week before last. I have been waiting, but…" she looked up at him.

"What do you mean?"

"When I told Henry I wasn't feeling well, I was telling the truth. I really haven't been. At first I thought you were right, that I was just stressed about Henry's return after all this time. And tired – I have been so tired."

"Catherine, what are you saying?" Richard thought he knew, but he needed to hear it from her. His stomach felt knotted suddenly, and the palm she was tracing began to sweat.

"I have been so unlike myself," she continued, "Crying one minute, snapping at everybody the next. I knew something wasn't right." She looked into his eyes, suddenly seeming scared and small. "Richard, I think I might be with child. And that the child must be yours, not Henry's."

"But - " stammered Richard, "But – you – all these years. You haven't been able to conceive, so how could this be?!"

"Perhaps you were right, and it has been more to do with Henry than it has me," she suggested, "But however it has come to happen, it has happened, Richard. I have no way to confirm a pregnancy, of course, and seeing the physician would only draw attention to it, so we will just have to assume." She clutched her hands together. "Oh Richard! What shall I do?!"

Richard thought for a moment. "Can't you sleep with Henry and put the pregnancy down to that?" he asked hopefully. She shook her head.

"No, I've thought about that. He has been away for such a long time that the last time we engaged in carnal relations would have resulted in a pregnancy that would be much farther along that I am now – perhaps even enough to show by this stage. And if I should sleep with him now, a pregnancy that could result from an engagement of that timing would not be consistent with how soon I will show. People will know, and questions will be asked, especially since it has been almost nine years without a single pregnancy to show for my encounters with Henry."

Richard took her hands in his, bringing them to his lips to kiss her knuckles, her fingers, her wrists, trying to remind her that she was loved. She sighed.

"I shall have to hide it."

"How?"

"I don't know. But I shall have to, somehow."

Richard enveloped her in a warm embrace, stroking her hair and kissing her temple as he laid her cheek against his chest.

"I will be here to love you and support you, always. Even if it has to be done in secret, I will love you always. And our child," he added, placing his hand on her belly gently. Catherine turned her face into him, accepting his comfort, and kissed his neck.

"What shall I tell Henry, though?" Richard wondered suddenly.

"Tell him that I'm tired. Make me out to be the tired, distant wife he believes he has. Distance will be my friend in the coming months, and I must make use of it, so I may as well begin now." She sounded resigned and unhappy.

Richard squeezed her tight in his arms, wrapping his leg around hers and breathing in the scent of her hair deeply.

"I love you with all my heart," he assured her, sealing his words with a searing kiss, "Everything will be alright."

/

AN: Just to say that I couldn't tell from the episode in Season 1 (Inquisition – ep. 11) when Clarissa's birth was mentioned, whether the whole pregnancy was hidden from Henry, or whether he thought she was pregnant with his first child, and Clarissa's birthmark made Catherine send her away to have it corrected. Agnes, the wet-nurse's mother, said that she was terrified as the time drew near for her to give birth, that the King would find out. But find out WHAT? That she was pregnant at all, or that the child wasn't his after all? It didn't seem 100% clear to me, and in the end I decided it could be interpreted either way, and I have chosen to make Catherine's pregnancy with Clarissa something that she seeks to hide entirely from Henry in my story. So, if you're reading along over the next few chapters and thinking, "This isn't how it was!" – you may be right, but I wasn't sure, and this is the way I'm taking it for my story. Just to explain!