Thanks for all your ideas -ChibiUsa20 and Anarra, I especially liked yours, as you can see. I borrowed a few other ideas as well, but I can't remember who gave them to me. Sorry! Hope you like the chapter anyway! I also apologise for the long delay between updates – I've been really busy! I'll try and speed the next ones up at least a little.

11

Banished from Court

Princess Anne was in a temper when it all started. One of those tempers that meant the Queen Dowager should never have allowed her to be present at the state occasion in the first place. I could have told her that, any one of Anne's ladies could have told her that, but of course, she didn't listen, and instead, she ordered us to dress Anne in her pale blue silk gown trimmed with white velvet ribbons, so that, when the heralds announced "Her Majesty Queen Anne, Queen Dowager of England" and "His Royal Highness Prince George, King Conso of Navarre and Duke of York" they also cried out "Her Royal Highness Princess Anne, Princess of Orange, Duchess of Buckingham, and Marquess of Pembroke", and they went in together, Anne Boleyn flanked by her two youngest Tudor children.

Princess Anne seated herself beside Queen Marguerite, as she always did, and George went to sit beside his brother, the King, with their mother behind them, in the favoured position of a councillor. Prince Robert and Princess Margaret were nowhere to be seen, something which pleased Princess Anne immensely, for it meant that she was free to act as the baby of the family, and not have to rival her little brother and sister for their mother's affection, something she always hated doing.

However, when the Earl of Moray came forward and bowed politely to Edward, saying "Good Morrow, Your Majesty", Anne stiffened. She knew Edward entertaining the Scottish nobles with the whole family there could only mean one thing – he was trying to organise a betrothal. James Moray's next words only served to prove her right.

"My Queen's Regent, Marie de Guise, sends her warmest regards, and is deeply honoured that Your Majesty would consider her little daughter, Mary, Queen of Scots, a worthy bride for your youngest brother, Robert, Duke of Gloucester -"

I presume that he would have gone on to talk about the little Scottish Queen's virtues, and how he hoped that, through this marriage, England and Scotland would be peacefully united, as they had been when my aunt, Margaret Tudor, had become Queen Consort to King James IV, but he never managed to get that far. Anne leapt to her feet and, before the entire Court, and the Scottish delegation, started screaming at her brother.

"How could you? How could you?"

"Anne! We are in public!" King Edward was astounded, and cast a pleading look at his brother, who jumped up, and caught at his little sister's hands, trying to calm her.

"Anne, please. Annie, pull yourself together. I've got you. Everything will be all right."

However, Anne was in such a temper that not even George could calm her.

"No! You'll not marry Robert off to little Mary, Edward – not if I can help it! Why does everyone pay such attention to him and Margaret, anyway? They're no more special than any of our father's bastards were, you know."

"They're not bastards any more, Anne. Our mother has married Henry Percy, you know. That automatically legitimises them." Edward explained, trying to keep his tone firm but reasonable in the face of his spoiled little sister's distress.

"They're bastards to me! As for you, Edward, you understand law all right, but let's see if you can understand this, shall we? If you even so much as contract Robert to Princess Mary -"

"Queen Mary, my lady." The Earl of Moray interjected, determined to keep the titles straight.

"Queen Mary, then! If you so much as draw up a contract between them, I swear I will never marry William of Orange!"

With that, Anne turned and fled from the Privy Chamber, oblivious to the whispers and mutterings behind her. Following behind, I caught a few of them.

"Spoiled little horror. Why can't she act her rank?"

"For shame! Her sister Elizabeth would never act so – she knows her place in the world. Nor would little Margaret."

"Aye, it's a sad day for England when a nine year old Princess is shown up by her seven year old sister."

"Oh, I don't think it's Anne's fault, poor child. It's her mother. She indulges her far too much. Look at her now. She's already coming up with a way to appease that child – an expensive present most likely."

I shook my head wryly. They were right. Within a couple of days, if not hours, the Queen Dowager would go to visit Anne, who would ignore her sullenly, pretending to be on the verge of tears. Anne Boleyn fell for it every time. Unable to bear her child's anguish, she would soothe Anne – hold her in her arms and reassure her that she would always be her favourite daughter, before giving her whatever she had had the jewellers or the seamstresses create for her daughter, and watching her little girl's face light up with a smile, as she flew into her mother's arms and kissed her in gratitude, thanking her with the sweetness of an angel – the angel that Anne Boleyn still believed she was, despite all our attempts to persuade her to the contrary.

Such scenes were common in the Royal Household, and they made Anne Boleyn a laughing stock, but she paid no heed to the slander that surrounded her, for she had never cared for it, never done anything but spoil little Anne, and anyway, as Queen Dowager and joint Regent with her brother, George Boleyn, Lord Rochford (who was also by now Duke of Surrey and Hampshire, Earl of Wiltshire, and a Knight of the Garter), she still held an enormous amount of power, even if she could not control her child, so no-one dared defy her, at least, not openly.

****

To our surprise, it was Prince George who came to visit his sister first, not their mother. He sat with her for an hour, playing chess, before he looked across the board at her, and said "Anne, don't blame Edward for what happened this afternoon, will you? It's not his fault that our mother had children by Henry Percy."

"That's as may be." Anne retorted crisply, moving her castle forward to take one of his knights. "Does he have to treat them as a Prince and Princess, though? Does he have to organise Royal marriages for them?

I was surprised to hear her discuss the matter so calmly, but I suppose she realised that acting the injured child would not work with her brother any more, even if it did with her mother. George smiled kindly, and answered as gently as he could.

"Like it or not, Robert and Margaret are our half-brother and sister, Anne. They have to be treated with courtesy. The fact that Mother has ordered them to be treated as a Prince and Princess only enables Edward to strengthen England's links with other countries even more. Robert is to be King-Consort of Scotland, and I heard that Margaret will wed Don Carlos of Spain when they are both old enough. You see, you're not going to be the only Princess of England who has to marry. Mother's trying her hardest to treat us all equally. Help her, Annie, don't hinder her."

"She loves Margaret more than me though. It's unfair!" Anne burst out passionately. George shook his head with all the wisdom of an eleven year old boy who has been raised as a future ruler, a future King, and has paid attention to his lessons.

"She doesn't, Anne, she really doesn't. It only seems that way because you're used to being the baby of the family, and singled out for her attention. You have to understand; all those years when she was here at our father's side as his wife and Queen, as our mother – mother to the whole of England, she knew that she had two more children who were growing up away from her – even more than we were, Anne, even more than we were! Well, you were here, but Bess wasn't, and I wasn't, and Edward was away at Ludlow for so much of the year. Of course Mother lavished her time and attention upon you – you were the only one around! But where we saw each other at least four times a year, Robert and Margaret never saw her at all, and now, at last, she's got them with her, acknowledged as her own. It's only natural that she's going to show affection towards them – she's trying to make up for lost time. She's trying to recover an entire seven years, and it's not easy. You need to do the grown-up thing, and let her get on with it, rather than try to monopolise her all the time. And you have to go to Edward and tell him you will serve England as he commands – that you won't stand in the way of Robert's betrothal, and that you will marry William of Orange if he wishes it so. You need to be pleasant towards both Robert and Margaret, at least on public occasions. Please, Anne, for my sake, promise me you will try." George gazed pleadingly at his little sister, and, under his scrutiny, she whispered the response that he wanted. "I will. For your sake, George, I will try."

Throughout this conversation, Anne kept her hands demurely in her lap, so that no-one could see that she was crossing her fingers as she spoke.

"Good. Now, sister, I'd better leave you. I promised Edward I'd go over the plans for the festivities in honour of the Scottish Ambassadors with him before supper. Thanks for the game."

"Likewise, brother, likewise. I'll see you this evening." Anne rose and kissed her brother lightly as he made to depart.

As soon as he had gone, however, she turned to her favourite maids, and giggled with malicious pleasure.

"Now our work begins. We have to work out how to make life difficult for my mother, Prince Robert, Princess Margaret and everyone else at Court without arousing suspicion." Anne mocked her younger brother and sister's titles derisively. "And guess what? I've already freed myself from the annoying promise I made to that too decent brother of mine."

"Your Highness -" Lady Catherine Parr, began to protest, but Anne cut her wardrobe mistress off sharply.

"You will be silent, Lady Parr! I am a Princess twice over, and Duchess of Buckingham besides. I will do as I please, and if you try to stop me, I shall just have you banished from Court. I did it to Lady Shelton, remember? And Lady Neville. Being one of my senior ladies will not protect you unless I decide it will, so I suggest you watch what you say." Anne snarled, in a manner of speech quite unlike her own, which she had borrowed from her siblings when they played games which involved legendary heroes and villains. It had the desired effect. Lady Catherine went absolutely ashen and curtsied silently, before seating herself before the fire, studiously ignoring the Princess as she and her two accomplices began to make their plans in stage whispers.

Maria-Anne Howard rose to her feet.

"I'm going to tell the Queen Dowager. She can't just ignore this, Lady Seymour! She'll have to do something!"

I watched Maria-Anne go with some misgivings. I was not quite so sure about that.

****

I turned out to be right. Anne Boleyn laughed scornfully at Maria-Anne's fears, telling her that her precious daughter was a good girl, if a little over-emotional at times, and would never do such a thing.

"I fear it's going to take the actual occurrence to ever persuade Anne that her little darling is actually capable of planning anything worse than a bit of mischief." Kitty Percy remarked to me in despair, and I nodded, inwardly thanking the Lord that my own children were nothing like as cunning and bent on revenge as our little mistress was.

"I think we can only wait and see what she comes up with, Kitty. As far as I can see, there's no other way around this problem." I sighed bitterly, wishing more than ever that I was safely ensconced in the country with my family, raising my sweet children away from Court, rather than having to do it here, in the centre of all this terrifying spiteful intrigue that Princess Anne seemed determined to stir up among her own family.

As I could not, I merely set my shoulders back, bowed my head, and got on with sewing at the altar cloth that Princess Anne had promised the church at Windsor, but had set aside in favour of setting her malevolent plan into action.

****

It didn't take Anne long. A week later, she announced that she was holding a masque to bid the Scottish Ambassador farewell, and to apologise for losing control in front of him. Edward was thrilled that she was pulling herself together, but when Princess Margaret asked if she could take one of the parts, rather than say yes, as Elizabeth would have done, she refused, tossing her head and declaring"I don't want to dance in a masque with a baby like you!" before pushing past Margaret, and taking her place in the centre of the group of dancers, calling out for the musicians to play the same tune over and over again, cold-shouldering Margaret until the little girl ran to find her mother, tears in her eyes.

Anne Boleyn came to take Margaret's side, but the young Princess of Orange threatened to burst into tears, whining "She'll spoil it all. She can't dance! This is for the Ambassadors – we can't have England represented in such an inadequate manner. Please, Mama, let me organise my own masque, and choose my own dancers. I won't get it wrong."

"Well'… all right then. Margaret, I'm sorry sweetheart. Maybe Anne will find you a part next time."

"I wouldn't count on it." Anne hissed at Margaret behind their mother's back, sneering at her sister, before calling "Again. 1-2-3-4…" The ladies around her (all Howards, as she favoured her own family above all others) began to dance energetically, taking their lead from her, as Anne cavorted gaily, as though she had entirely forgotten her little sister's presence.

Margaret walked from the room, her head held high in defiance. She wouldn't crumple again – wouldn't give Anne the satisfaction of knowing that she had really hurt her. I gazed after her, trying to work out what it was about her that made her be able to pull off an act like that. Princess Anne wouldn't have been able to.

"It's the fact that she's been brought up as a Percy." Edward explained, when I mentioned it to him that night. "The Percy family is a family of courtiers, as opposed to Royalty. Even their children are schooled in how to keep their composure, whatever the King or Queen do to them. Growing up as she has, Margaret will have been taught that too, even though her mother is the Queen."

"I'm glad of it, Edward. She's a good little girl - she doesn't deserve what Anne's doing to her."

"No. I know she doesn't, but do you really want to try and stop Princess Anne, Mary? You know we'd incur the Queen Regent's wrath, and being Seymours, we're barely hanging on here as it is. We can't afford to do that. We're going to have to shut our eyes and turn our heads away from all this, and you know it."

"Oh, I wish we didn't have to!" I burst out angrily, my temper suddenly flaring on Margaret's behalf. "Why can't Anne Boleyn see what a brat her daughter's become?"

"Because Anne's too clever for that. To her mother, she's the sweet little girl she's always been." Edward reminded me, stretching out a hand for me. I leant my head on his shoulder, sighing.

"Don't worry, Mary, my sweet. The Queen Dowager will notice one day, I promise you. She has to – Anne can't go on unchecked like this forever."

I know, I know. What worries me is what little Anne might manage to do, before her mother sees fit to step in."

****

She managed to do quite a lot, but it all began really, with Princess Margaret's mysterious illness. Margaret had been fine the day before, dancing in the masques that marked Princess Elizabeth's departure to France to marry the Dauphin, François, and she sat between her twin brother, and her elder sister, Anne, under the cloth of estate for hours without even the tiniest flicker of discomfort. However, by the morning she had a slight fever, and kept shivering convulsively.

Doctor William Butts could find nothing serious wrong with her, but prescribed a few days bed rest, and a tonic of pigeon's blood, beetles' legs and decaying rosewater to try and bring down the fever. If that didn't work, we were to pile covers upon Margaret's slight frame, and sweat it out instead.

Anne Boleyn, half-sick herself with worry, spent every waking moment with her youngest daughter, leaving her namesake to do as she pleased.

Princess Anne revelled in her new-found freedom, and began to actively encourage the interest of Ambrose Dudley, one of Prince George's companions.

She might only have been ten, going on eleven, but as Anne Boleyn's daughter, and having been raised here at this somewhat scandalous Court, she knew how to attract a man all right.

Their flirtation began innocently enough – glances here and there, the occasional moment where Ambrose would compliment her, but as Margaret began to recover, and Anne began to fear her utter freedom, still so new and enticing, would be curtailed, they moved things up a gear. Anne began to call musicians and dancers to join her in her rooms at night, after she should really have been in bed. Ambrose would slip away from his father and brothers, and join the revels, taking the Princess's hand and leading her through one dance after another, as she gradually broke down the boundaries of class and courtesy that separated the two of them, unpinning her hair, tugging her dress lower than she ought to have done, and allowing young Ambrose to kiss her, not merely on the cheek, or on the hand, but firmly on the lips.

Lady Parr and I both knew something would have to be done, but as both of us were labouring under the heavy knowledge that losing the Princess's favour, (or in my case, tolerance) would mean losing our places at Court, all we could do was to encourage the Queen Regent to decide to look in upon her daughter one night, and see for herself what really went on behind the closed doors of Anne Tudor's private rooms.

Thank God she followed our advice.

She found out for herself about Anne and Ambrose's forbidden courtship, and my word, she was angry! She sent the musicians packing; Ambrose back to his suite of rooms in disgrace, banned from ever meeting the Princess in private again, and for once in her life, scolded her little daughter with a tongue-lashing as fierce as only she could deliver it. Anne seemed to take it on board, bowing her head in silence and accepting her mother's reprimand without complaint, but of course, such conduct was merely an act, an act she could play with precision, an act put on to win back her mother's kindness.

That very night, Anne slipped out of her rooms, accompanied by Kitty and Amy Howard, and stole into her mother's rooms to take the jewel-encrusted clock that my father had given Anne Boleyn on the occasion of Edward's baptism.

Having laid her hands on it, she ran up to the battlements of Windsor Castle, and threw it over the wall with all her might. It fell to the ground, turning over and over, glittering in the moonlight, and smashed on the flagstones of the courtyard below – right where her mother couldn't fail to see it if she happened to look out in the morning. She did, and she came flying into Anne's rooms to ask her if she knew anything about it.

Anne, emboldened by her success, laughed up at her mother. "Of course I do! I threw it down there!"

"But... Anne, why, sweetheart, why?"

"To teach you a lesson for favouring Robert and Margaret over me. Oh, and Margaret suffered from the fever because I slipped something into her cup that night. She deserved it! They've usurped my place in your heart, Mother, and I'm going to win it back if it's the last thing I do!"Anne Boleyn stared at her daughter in disbelief, before turning and marching from the room, calling for her sister as she did so. Anne watched her go, nonplussed, but Lady Parr and I shared a quick smile. Hopefully now Princess Anne would get her comeuppance at last.

****

She did. Mary Boleyn-Stafford disbanded her household at once, and took her to live with her and her husband and children at Hever.

Anne cried and fought, but even her mother, who had finally awoken to the fact that she was spoiled rotten, turned her face away from Anne's desperate actions, saying only "We'll have you back to Court when you can behave. I promise. Now go with Aunt Mary, and do as she tells you."

Lady Catherine Parr, Amy Howard, Kitty Howard, Margaret Fitzalan and Mary Dudley accompanied the Princess to Hever, and, as her governess, I went too – until Master Ascham, one of Prince George's tutors, offered to come down and oversee her education for a while., with Mary Boleyn-Stafford to teach Anne her manners and graces while I was gone.

I accepted his offer, and departed for Wulfhall instantly. I revelled in the company of my children during that long hot summer, as I got down to the job of being a mother instead of a courtier. I would have to go back to Court eventually, I knew, but for the moment, I was content to be left alone as a Viscountess in the country.

I was content to be Lady Mary Isabella Seymour.