AN: Here's the next chapter – finally! I apologise for the wait – I've been away. As it is, enjoy!

Oh, for those of you following "Sister to the Queen" I hope to update that this weekend. R &R!

4

Spoiled little Princess

1542

Five years. That's how long I would have to wait.

For the next five years, I travelled around England with the Princess Anne, visiting all the children's palaces – Hunsdon, Ashridge, which she owned, and which quickly became her special favourite, Tantridge, Sudeley Castle, Hatfield , even Ludlow and Beaulieu, both of which brought back poignant memories, for they had been my old residences in the days when I held the title Princess of Wales.

4 times a year – Christmas, Easter, Michelmas and Whitsun we were at court, and as long as we weren't too far away, Her Majesty rode over to see us quite often, occasionally with the King, though mostly alone, especially the first summer, and the following one, for she lost another baby, a healthy boy, in her seventh month of pregnancy, and sought solace in the company of the precocious Princess, her much-loved daughter, so as to avoid His Majesty's rage.

Little Anne, therefore, mostly grew up whilst travelling, away from her parents, but of course, being a Princess, she was obeyed in everything she said, even her most fanciful wishes.

Her elder siblings, Edward, Elizabeth and George, soon realised this and rapidly became quite sensible in the orders that they gave, but Anne …!

Let's just say it went to her head!

By the summer of her fifth year, she was fast becoming a real tyrant.

We gave her her own way in pretty much everything, I admit, but we only did it because we had to, because of her rank, and anyway, anything we really disagreed with her on, we wrote to her mother, the Queen about, and asked her advice.

However, unfortunately for us, her mother adored Anne, and thought she could do no wrong, so always took her part, and ordered us to let Anne do what she wished, and His Majesty never bothered to check – he trusted Queen Anne, because she'd brought Elizabeth up so well, and furthermore, he was too busy with the Princes to care much about his younger daughter, much as I had predicted five years previously.

Not so Her Majesty – presents too, lavish, expensive ones, most unsuited to a child of Anne's age, arrived on a regular basis, and much as we tried to keep them from her, we were nearly always unsuccessful, for Anne was a curious child, into everything, forever exploring some corner or other.

This got Jane Seymour into trouble not long after the Princess's first birthday, as Anne managed to pick some yew berries off a low branch and eat them. They gave her a stomach ache, and of course, Queen Anne jumped to conclusions, and almost dismissed Jane without a second thought.

Almost. Not quite.

Constance Talbot jumped in and took the blame instead, even though it meant her being sent home in disgrace, even though Jane had been the one watching the Princess in the gardens at Hatfield that day.

I asked Constance why she'd done it, why she'd saved Jane from dishonour, and she replied that she couldn't stand by and watch one of my friends being sent away, as I had few enough as it was, bless her. After that, there was nothing I could do but to thank her, bid her farewell, and bless her once more before she left us forever.

After that small scandal, life proceeded as normal, little Anne being as indulged as ever.

But really, I think the first time I realised just quite how spoiled Anne was by both her parents was when she was five.

The children, all four of them, had come to court for Michelmas, and their parents had sent for them. Lady Bryan, Mistress Champernowne, Lady Shelton and I accompanied the children to the King's Privy Chamber, and watched with pride as, one by one, our charges sank into their respectful bows or curtsies.

All except mine.

Anne forgot all the courtly manners she had ever been taught, and simply ran across the room and flung herself into her mother's arms.

We gasped – audibly!

I hurried forward to take the Princess from her mother, in order to make her do the required curtsey, but the Queen shook her head, and clutched her child to her, even as my father's face darkened.

"Anne." It was all he said, but the anger he conveyed – well, I trembled.

Queen Anne Boleyn, however, did not.

Fixing her eyes pleadingly on my father, she said sweetly "Henry, she is but five and we are alone. Let it go."

"Anna-Maria, I cannot allow standards of respect -".

Just before the King launched himself into his lengthy speech of righteousness, the Princess laughed, held out her arms to him, and sang "Pastime with good company, I love and shall unto I die."

He checked at the sound of her thin, yet bright little voice, and looked down upon her golden brown head. Then he lifted her in his arms, met her eyes and asked "Did you learn that to please me, Anne?"

Solemn as a councillor, the five year old maiden nodded gravely.

"Yes, Father."

"Well, aren't you a clever girl!" His Majesty exclaimed, setting Anne on her own two feet once more.

"I think that deserves a reward, don't you, Anne, my sweetheart?" He turned his head to gouge the Queen's reaction to their cherished daughter's achievement.

As the Queen nodded, he flashed her a smile of utter devotion, before turning back to his daughter, saying

"Well, Anne, my rose of a princess? What shall we do? You choose."

Unnerved by her father's keen gaze, Anne could not decide. Her mother bent and whispered something in her ear, and at once the petite countenance cleared.

"Let's call the musicians and have some music."

"Excellent choice, my darling." The King brushed a stray curl off his daughter's bright little face, before holding out his hand to the Queen, and asking "Anne, may I have the honour?"

"Of course, husband" she replied, mild as my own mother had been.

They took to the floor, and moments later, Edward and Elizabeth followed.

George danced with his cousin, the Lady Margaret Douglas, while Anne skipped around, humming as she went.

I think all of us would have been quite content to dance the day away, but at last Secretary Cromwell entered, bowed, and murmured "The Ambassadors from Navarre are here to discuss the betrothal of Prince George to Princess Jeanne, Your Majesties."

At once, Queen Anne inclined her head, stroked the fiery red curls of her eldest daughter Elizabeth in farewell, and headed for her throne, as my father followed, issuing orders over his shoulder.

"Elizabeth, go with Mistress Champernowne to your rooms. Edward, your riding instructor awaits you at the stables."

"Yes, Father" the youth muttered, bowing his way from the room.

"Mary!" I jumped as His Majesty snapped my name.

"Fa- My lord?"

Inwardly kicking myself for that slip of the tongue, I bobbed a prompt curtsey.

"Take George and Anne back to their rooms."

"Is Prince George not to remain here?"

"Nay, I'll send for him once he's changed into his newest robes of state."

"Very well, my lord. As you wish." I dipped my head and beckoned George to my side. He ran over.

Smiling at him, I beckoned Princess Anne as well, but she ran to her mother, and clung to her skirts.

"Mary likes George more than me!" she whined plaintively. Queen Anne's angry, flashing, dark eyes snapped up to meet mine.

"Nonsense, Your Majesty! Her Highness is imagining things. She is, and always will be, my beloved little Princess of England, and Marquis of Pembroke." I exclaimed, before stretching my hand out imploringly to little Anne.

"Come along, Anne. Leave the boring state affairs to your parents. They're nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about."

"I won't go with you! I won't!"

Anne's screams rang through the hall, as she shrank back into the safety of her mother's arms.

Had she been any other royal child, had her parents not been there, I would have most likely lost my temper and boxed her ears, if not shaken her roughly, until she obeyed, but under these circumstances, and facing the spoiled baby of the Tudor family, all I could do was grit my teeth, bow my head, and shoot my father a gleam of a pleading look from beneath my eyelashes, as he turned his head to investigate the source of the noise.

I stepped forward, meaning to prise Anne off her mother, but as soon as I laid my hands on her shoulders, Anne began to scream bloody murder.

"What is this? Why have you lost all self-control, Anne? Answer me!" My father bellowed right in her ear. The poor maiden only screeched louder of course, because he terrified her.

In bewilderment, His Majesty glanced up at his wife and me. At once we both began to speak.

"Henry, our daughter-"

"The Princess, Your Grace-"

"Silence, Mary! Let the Queen speak."

"Henry, our daughter had rather stay here during our audience with the Ambassadors."

"It is most improper, Sire. Do I have your orders to remove her forcibly?" As I asked, I stretched out my arms.

"Hold, Mary, I must think. Take George to his chambers."

"Aye, Sire." I backed off slowly, did the three required courtesies, and then escorted 7 year old George to his suite of rooms. Leaving orders for him to be dressed at once in his best, as the King had told me, I rushed back to the Privy Chamber.

As the guards admitted me, I caught a glimpse of my father's countenance. When he was considering like this, all his thoughts flitted across his handsome features in quick succession. He was thinking "It would be bad for the House of Tudor if our Princesses had to be carried out kicking and screaming. No-one would want to marry such wilful girls. Anne ought not to be here, however, so what do I do?"

Eventually, he murmured something into the Queen's ear.

"Oh, yes, she'll be good if she stays – won't you, Anne?"

"Yes, Mama" Princess Anne piped up, her light hazel eyes sparkling as she realised she was to have her way.

Knowing her as I did, there was no doubt she would be crowing over this to her sister when they next met.

Queen Anne spotted me skulking in the shadows, and called out "Leave us, Lady Mary."

I had to swallow my pride, bite back the sharp retort that readily sprang to the tip of my tongue and curtsey respectfully to her, as befitted a bastard courtier's attitude to her rightful queen. The awkward movement brought tears of shame to my eyes.

Mother would turn in her grave if she saw me now, but I had no choice! Now that Mother was dead, and Anna-Maria Boleyn was unchallenged queen, one disrespectful movement could cost me my life - and probably would, too.

Retreating to my bedroom, I gazed into my looking glass, absent-mindedly curving my lips into an empty courtier's smile. The reflected pretty face smiled tolerantly back, rich honey-coloured waves of hair tumbling down on either side, an attractive hint of melancholy defiance in the jaw and sapphire eyes. That girl was me, Mary Isabella Tudor.

"It's all right." I reassured myself. "I am the King's daughter, that's no small thing to be. My mother was Catherine of Aragon, aunt to the most powerful monarch in Europe. And I have the love of Edward Seymour. Not even Anne Boleyn, snapper-up of privilege and place that she is, can take this from me."

At the thought of Edward Seymour, my heart lifted, and the gay smile that I wore became genuine.

Edward Seymour was the brother of Jane Seymour, my father's former sweetheart and mistress, who, due to the King's favour, now served as a cupbearer in Princess Anne's household, much to the Queen's chagrin, for, Howard that she was, she hated any member of the Seymour family, and of course, Jane's closest relatives most of all.

Handsome and friendly, yet dark and ambitious, he had easily captured my heart, and recently, he had been behaving as though I, too, had captured his.

Perhaps I could now persuade him to marry me. After all, I had a decent dowry - each and every one of my cherished mother's jewels was now mine by right, as was a settlement of £2000, bestowed upon me by my aunt, the late Princess Mary Tudor, Dowager Queen of France, and Duchess of Suffolk.

If I could persuade him, and we obtained Father's permission, as we would have to do, what with me being his daughter, well, everyone would be happy, even Queen Anne, for she longed to have me married off, ideally either to a Howard or some baron of no consequence, so that Father would concentrate more willingly on the marriages of her offspring. Marry I would, but play her game I would not, nor would I stand nonchalantly by and let my mother be forgotten by history.

Never! Not in a month of Sundays or even a thousand summers!

I swore this to myself, vowed it then and there, before the mirror, much as, some years before, Anne Boleyn, then newly crowned Queen, and finally a mother herself, had publicly declared to bring down the pride born of my "unbridled Spanish blood".

Then, leaping to my feet, I smiled with poise and grace at my reflection, and fair ran from the room, to go in search of Edward Seymour, who, hopefully, was my future lover and husband.