Already written the next chapter - so here it is ! Enjoy!
11
Anne of Orange
1551
In October of the Year of Our Lord 1551, Princess Anne turned 14.
Her sister Elizabeth had departed for France years earlier, leaving Anne as the only Tudor Princess left in England.
Anne had grown to be a girl of rare loveliness, with her parents' hair mixing in her to create a golden-brown colour, which, when it caught the sun, blazed like burnished bronze. Her eyes were jet black, and as lively as a magpie's, as her mother's.
She had only recently come back to Court, having spent the last few years at her Aunt's and Uncle's country manor houses, Hever, Blickling, Grimstone and Rochford. Only a few maids had accompanied her to these houses, and because of it, she was now more self-reliant, and much more bearable, for her temper was now much improved, much to everyone's relief.
Her cousins, Henry George and Marian Elizabeth Boleyn, the son and daughter of Sir George Boleyn by his first wife, Jane Parker, came back to Court with her. Henry was a young man of eighteen, married to the youngest daughter of the Duke of Suffolk, Eleanor Brandon, whilst Marian was a girl of fifteen, with her whole life ahead of her, who was to go into Princess Anne's household when she left to marry William of Orange, as her cousin, Anne Stafford, had done before her.
The Princess's birthday was celebrated in style, with a ball that went on late into the night, and a masque during which 28 ladies, the Princess among them, masked and dressed in red and white taffeta, entered. 14 of them were dark and 14 of them blonde.
Marian and Katy, as the Princess's cousins, were among them too, though I think that poor Marian may well have been in shock at the sheer extravagance of the entire feast.
They chose gentlemen to dance with them; Anne chose Ambrose Dudley, the very boy whose courtship of her had got her into trouble years before. He was the younger brother of Princess Elizabeth's dearest friend and courtier, Robert "Robin" Dudley, who had accompanied Elizabeth to France as a groom.
Anne flirted with Ambrose prettily, confidently, teasingly, much as, decades earlier, her mother had flirted with Henry Percy, her one true love, to whom she was now married, and her father had flirted with his many mistress, Elizabeth "Bessie" Blount, and Anne's own aunt, Marianne Frances Boleyn-Stafford, the two most notable of their number.
"There goes a Boleyn" my sister in law Jane murmured into my ear, as we watched the Princess pass, and I nodded.
"Half Boleyn, half Tudor. A child born of the two most formidable people in Christendom. A Royal child. Mark my words, Jane; she'll go a long way."
We would be right, but it would not be proved until much, much later, when we had all but forgotten about this conversation.
For now, however, we merely sat back, and listened to the minstrel's newest song, "Rosebud of Princesses, Rose of England", which had been written in little Anne's honour, though she wasn't so little anymore!
****
Scarcely a fortnight later, the Royal Family entered the Great Hall of Whitehall again for another event concerning Anne – her marriage by proxy to William of Orange.
My brother King Edward, and Queen Marguerite were there, dressed in blue state robes trimmed with cloth of gold and ermine, as were Henry Percy and Anne Boleyn, who stood with her daughters. The Bride, Princess Anne, wore a gown of pale green silk. At her throat was a pendant of her mother's, and her robe of sumptuously rich amber velvet was pinned with a great brooch of rubies and star sapphires.
Prince Robert and Princess Margaret stood at their mother's left shoulder, proud and haughty, whilst Prince George and his wife, Jeanne of Navarre stood slightly behind the King, both wearing midnight blue damask robes encrusted with diamonds, as were the rest of the Royal Family's. Jeanne's was cut wide to disguise her belly where it swelled with the bulge of their first child.
Before them stood the Bishop of Haarlem and the Lord of Egmond, who had been chosen to act as proxy.
Anne stood patiently beside her mother while her brother, in his role of King of England, asked the ceremonial questions about whether this marriage really could go on unchallenged.
We, the entire court, watched the visitors with bated breath. What if they did declare a reason? It scarcely ever happened, but what if this time was different? What if, this time, the marriage had to be abandoned, even at this late stage?
But no, the Dutch nobles were assuring us that they knew of no impediments to the union, and now Princess Anne was coming forward, straightening her bejewelled headdress, smoothing her gown, placing her hand in that of the Lord of Egmond's, and clearing her throat, so that her voice would ring out, pure and clear as a silver bell, around the Great Hall.
"I, Anne, second daughter of the right excellent, right high and mighty Anne, Queen Dowager of England, and Prince and Princess Henry, formerly King of the Same; and sister to the right excellent, right high and mighty Prince and Princess Edward, by the Grace of God King of England, France and Ireland, and Marguerite de Valois, Queen of the Same, wittingly and of my own free will, having fourteen years complete in age on the twelfth of October which be past, do hereby honour my betrothal and contract marriage with the right excellent, right high and mighty Prince William of Orange, for whom the person of Johannes, Lord of Egmond stands as procurator, and I take the said William, Prince of Orange, for my one and only husband and spouse, at least for the duration of his and my lives natural. I swear to have him and to hold him, and to forsake all other men for him during the length of our marriage, however long it might prove to be. This I promise him, in your person as procurator aforesaid, and, in so doing, I pledge to him and give to him, my husband, my faith and troth."
As she completed these words, the King led his court in a burst of raucous applause, and Anne, her young face glowing, turned on the dais to smile down upon the cheering courtiers.
The Royal Trumpeters blasted out a mighty fanfare, every gentleman in the room doffed his cap, and in the gallery, both in this room, and in the adjoining chambers, minstrels began to play, celebrating the occasion.
Thus was the way in which Princess Anne Frances Cecily Tudor of England, Duchess of Buckingham and Marquis of Pembroke became the Princess of Orange.