AN: Thank you so much for the reviews! This is a short chapter (sorry!) and also the last complete chapter that I had written back in November. I am working on completing this story, but also simultaneously working on several different Cathry stories, so I cannot say when I will update this one again, but I will get around to it, I promise! Do you guys want me to finish Richard's story where he's exiled from court, or go right through episode 1x11 ending with his beheading? I can't decide, so I thought I would ask. :)

Chapter 26

Richard was approaching Catherine's chambers when the door opened, and a nervous-looking servant backed out, waiting for another who was inside the doorway bearing a tray and apparently being reprimanded by Catherine. Her angry voice came clearly to Richard's ears as he arrived at the door.

"Honestly, Elise, I don't know what kind of stupidity could possibly have resulted in this confusion! Go immediately and fix it!"

The servant curtsied clumsily around the heavy tray, full of what looked like afternoon tea. "Yes, m'lady, at once. Forgive me."

"GO!"

She scuttled out, and the two servants disappeared in a hurry down the corridor. Richard watched them for a moment before turning back to the open door and stepping inside. Catherine was writing at her desk, the quill scratching angrily against the parchment in front of her. She looked pent up with anger and frustration. Richard wondered if she had received some bad news, and he moved to close the door behind him.

As it clicked shut, Catherine startled with a jump, her writing marred by her sudden movement, and she looked up at him. Instead of greeting him, her eyes flashed daggers at Richard. Gritting her teeth, she scrunched the parchment into a tight wad, and hurled it across the room where it fell onto the luxurious rug, landing with a soft crackle.

"I'm sorry, Catherine, I didn't mean - " But she was up on her feet and moving towards him, her beauty enhanced, as it always was, in her anger. She was all fire and colour when it came to high emotions, and sometimes Richard felt that he could barely stand in her presence when she was incensed, such was the effect she had on him.

"Could you not have knocked?!" she huffed irritably. "What is the matter with everyone lately?! I despair of ever having a reasonable conversation or a moment's peace again!"

Richard didn't know what to say. "I didn't mean to disturb you," he tried again, unsure whether reaching out to touch her would have a soothing effect, or the opposite. He took her hand cautiously. "You seem… a little out of sorts, Catherine -" She shook his hand off, annoyed at his affection. "Is everything alright?"

"Except for interruptions and other irritations, yes, of course it is! Why wouldn't it be?!"

"I just wondered. Henry said - "

A short laugh of exasperation interrupted him. "Ohhh, I see! My husband has been whispering in your ear that I am being irrational and that he can't understand me – is that it?!"

"Catherine, I am just concerned about you, that's all. Henry doesn't understand you, that's for sure." Catherine dropped her shoulders slightly, prepared to listen for a moment as this statement caught her attention. "He never sees you cry, and yet twice this week he has. I was worried about you when he told me, and I wanted to see if everything was alright. Is something particularly upsetting you?"

"NO! Can a woman not be emotional?! Is it a mortal sin now?!" Her sarcasm was biting as her eyes flashed at him. She turned abruptly and stalked angrily to the window, looking out over the castle grounds. Richard began to walk towards her.

"Catherine -"

"Richard, I'm quite sure I would be perfectly content, if it were not for husbands, friends, servants, and half the rest of the castle seemingly insistent on trying to ruin my day!"

The crash of her fist on the window-sill was muffled by the door opening noisily, as the two servants from earlier made their way nervously to where Catherine stood, bearing her afternoon tea. Richard hoped for their sakes that whatever correction she had insisted upon had been made precisely, and that she would be satisfied and take a moment to relax. He was unsure what to make of her attitude, and he needed to try to make sense of it.

Catherine glanced silently at the tray on the table beside her, barely acknowledging the servants, keeping her back to them, until a slight raise of her hand dismissed them and they retreated hurriedly.

She sank into the chair by the window, turning her attention to the tea tray on the table. Richard watched her lift the linen cloth off the plate, and stare for a moment at the raspberry tartlets in front of her. He knew they were her favourites. To his surprise, she seemed to deflate before his very eyes, and all the fire and spark from earlier disappeared.

"I wanted pastries with fresh cream filling!" she lamented miserably, and began to cry, leaning her face into her hand. Richard was so confused by her bizarre behaviour that he had no idea what to say or do, until suddenly everything seemed to make sense. Eagerly, he went to her side, kneeling beside her as she wept over her tartlets.

"Catherine!" he began gently, "I don't think everybody is out to ruin your day. Don't you think…. Don't you think that perhaps it's not usual for you to react like this over pastries?"

Catherine sobbed in exasperation, her voice thick with emotion as she answered him, "For God's sake, Richard! If you're just going to belittle me over the stress I have to put up with, you can leave this damn minute!"

She raised her hand to gesture towards the door, but he caught it in his own, and pulled her gently to look at him, smiling at her encouragingly.

"No, Catherine, think about it!" He picked himself up from the floor and came to sit next to her, as she looked at him with tearful impatience. "You're snapping at people, and you're crying over your favourite tartlets. It's not just today either, like Henry told me. Could you perhaps be pregnant?"

Her tears forgotten, Catherine turned her face to him, wide-eyed. After a moment, she admitted, "I – I do feel quite similar to the way I did at first the last time… and I suppose I ought to have started my monthly bleeding by now. I don't know how that had escaped my notice!" Hope and joy flooded her features as she considered the possibility, and then she shook her head doubtfully. "But I don't feel unwell like last time."

"Perhaps it's different each time? I remember my mother used to say how unwell my sisters made her, and how fond she was of me for treating her better!" He smiled with amusement at the memory of his sisters wrinkling up their noses with displeasure every time their mother recalled her experience and displayed her favour for her only son.

"Perhaps…" Catherine's misery and anger was all forgotten as she clasped Richard's hands eagerly, her eyes shining with hope as well as tears. "Oh Richard! Could it be possible?! If only it would be true! I might give Henry a son! I would be safe!"

Richard laughed softly at her happiness – he was sure now that she must indeed be pregnant, legitimately pregnant, and he was glad and relieved for her after all these years of waiting. He patted her hand affectionately.

"Go now, and see the physician," he urged her, raising her hand to his lips for a kiss. "I will go and tell Henry that I have no idea what is wrong with you, and that you snapped at me the moment I tried to talk to you. He'll soon find out the reason, and it's best that I have no idea as far as he's concerned."

He stood, and Catherine followed suit, seeming in a breathless daze of joyful disbelief. Seeing Richard making to leave, she suddenly flung her arms around him, squeezing him tightly to her in a loving embrace, before pulling back and surprising him with a brief kiss. He looked down at her flushed face and shining eyes, wishing she could be his and his alone, for always.

"Thank you, Richard," she smiled at him. "I – I - " She broke off, unable to find the right words.

"I know," his face reflected her happiness, "I know." He cupped her cheek with a tender hand. "Go on now."