A/N: A/N: Here is the new chapter and I hope you all enjoy it. Sorry for the late post, everyone, we had some crazy weather here the past couple of days, thunderstorms and the like. Thank you to Guest, princessElizabethtudor, Guest, jamestudor, QueenAnneTudor, hateme101, dark euphie, Guest, suns and stars, Diamond Girl, Guest, tricorvus, Lady Eleanor of Slytherin, Roberta Lozano, Child of Dreams, and jamestudor for all of the reviews on the previous chapter. And I hope you all enjoy this brand new chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.
...
July 21st, 1543
George didn't know what to say when Jane told him the news.
"You're really..." his words failed him as Jane, eyes shimmering with tears of joy, nodded.
"Yes, the midwife says God willing, the baby will be here in autumn," she answered.
Still stunned, George smiled as he wrapped his arms around his wife.
He knew that she would be expected by many to give him a son to pass along the Boleyn name as well as the titles he possessed, but even with their less than pleasant start to the marriage, the new Boleyn patriarch could never bring himself to cause Jane the same heartache that the king had caused Anne. If the child she now carried inside her was a son, he would be delighted. But if it turned out to be a daughter, he would gladly welcome the girl and treasure her.
Jane laid her head against his chest all the while sighing happily as the pair each placed a hand upon her stomach.
"I shall send you to the country then," George spoke, now completely serious. "For your health."
Jane nodded, still touched by the man her once cold and aloof husband had become.
The two had agreed to wait before telling Elizabeth and the boys, particularly given how impatient the boys could be if they knew of this matter. Even sweet little Harry would demand to see his new cousin, which would of course be impossible. Better to tell them once the babe was due to arrive.
...
"Princess Anne is lovely," Margery remarked to her mother as the pair sat in her mother's chambers, sewing clothing that would later be given to the poor.
"Yes, I suppose she is," Jane replied placidly, attempting to conceal her disdain not only for the German princess, but also for the fact that ever since her daughter, whom she saw so rarely, entered and the two began their work, Margery had never stopped speaking of Elizabeth, the twins, the visiting princess, and her handsome duke cousin.
"Duke Phillip seems to have become quite fond of Mary," Margery then spoke up as she finished stitching the sleeve on a linen shirt.
Jane's attention perked up slightly as she heard this.
"Oh?" She looked up from her own work to her daughter. "Is that so?"
Margery grinned and nodded.
"He says that she is beautiful, gracious, a true princess," she sighed dreamily. "Even Mary seems to have actually become rather taken with him as well. She had told me just a day or two ago that she wished to leave for the country, but now has decided to delay her departure."
The little princess was so enraptured by the interaction between her sister and the duke that she did not see the expression her mother now bore.
Jane smiled. This was perfect!
Henry had talked once more of marriage proposals for the Lady Mary, but none had come to fruition. After all, not many princes would consent to marry a bastard, even a royal bastard.
Deciding she would speak with Edward later about this, she returned her attention to her daughter.
"Mother, do you think Papa will give Edward a title too?" the golden-haired princess asked. "Harry is the Prince of Wales, Geoffrey is the Duke of York, but Edward is only Prince Edward."
Jane felt a heaviness in her as she heard this. It was true, Edward had yet to be given a title aside from prince. Surely the king would bestow something on him!
Not saying a word, the queen resumed her work, leaving little Margery's question unanswered.
"You're absolutely certain this is true?"
Edward looked incredulously at his sister, who nodded hesitantly.
A great smile graced the now Duke of Somerset's face.
"That is perfect! Then that settles one of the king's concerns, marrying off his bastard."
Jane bristled. Though she no longer sought to restore Mary to the throne, she still empathized with the poor girl. At least that was what she told herself.
After all, a part of her knew that Mary would detest the fact that Duke Philip was a Protestant and she a Catholic. But if the king were to order the marriage and Duke Wilhelm were to consent to it, she would have little choice but to obey.
"What if she doesn't want this marriage?" the queen asked meekly.
"She will have no choice," Edward answered callously. "The girl's happiness is no concern of mine, nor should it be yours. A mere duke, would not be able to champion her rights to the throne. And Phillip would be unable to do so without jeopardizing the alliance between the king and Duke Wilhelm. Were that to happen, I doubt Wilhelm would be far from forgiving. Even a blood tie wouldn't save a traitor."
It made Jane's blood run cold to hear her brother speak in such an uncaring tone, but she knew he was right. And her children already had to contend with the supposed rights of Harry, Geoffrey, and Elizabeth. They could not afford to contend with Mary any longer.
...
"You must take great care," Chapuys whispered as he handed the vial to Brereton, a bit unnerved by the fanatical gleam in the latter's eyes.
"Certainly," Brereton nodded, stowing the vial in his doublet. "The twin bastards will be dead within a fortnight."
"And if all goes as planned, not only will the Princess Mary be restored to her rightful place, but the king will, I pray, finally come to his senses and once again return to the fold," Chapuys stated.
Brereton nodded.
"I am prepared," he declared. "I will not fail this time, I swear on my life."
The two men quickly left before they could be discovered.
Brereton smiled as he returned to his chambers. He was unable to do away with the whore, but she had ultimately died just the same. And now the two little whelps she never should have even had would follow her.
...
Princess Anne smiled as she watched her cousin and the Lady Mary dance. The two moved gracefully across the floor, their perfectly mirroring one another.
Phillip had confessed to her just that afternoon that, despite only having met Mary recently and only knowing her for a short time, he was indeed and truly falling in love with the English king's eldest daughter, going so far as to declare her the most beautiful creature on God's earth, marveling at her inner and outer radiance.
Anne knew her brother Wilhelm would believe that Phillip would be easy enough to find a wife for, one that could offer a finer benefit than a king's illegitimate daughter who had no claims to her father's royal lineage. But she also knew that her brother would see such an opportunity to not only solidify their Anglo-German alliance, but also quell the king's suspected fears of his daughter attempting to force her way back into the succession.
Phillip was no traitor, nor would he ever stand against his family. So the chances of him attempting to champion his wife's supposed rights over her legitimate half-brothers were nearly as likely to occur as one plucking the moon and stars from the sky.
Anne adored her cousin and she deeply empathized with the poor former princess. She could see the girl's eyes dancing with delight as Phillip gently guided her through the steps of the pavane. Though the dance itself was meant to be stately and solemn, both Phillip and Mary were smiling at one another, as though they had separated from the rest of the world.
There was no doubt in the German princess's mind; they were in love. And perhaps with the right persuasion, the king would look favorably upon the match.
...
Even hours after the dancing, when she had long since retired to her chambers, Mary still felt as though she were floating.
Phillip's kiss still seemed to linger on her lips from when he had bade her goodnight.
She had not wanted to love him, or even to like him, and yet despite everything she felt her heart opening to the German duke.
Her hopelessly romantic younger sister had inquired about Phillip and Mary's opinion on him, as had her lady stepmother. This had surprised her as her stepmother had paid her little attention as of late. But surely it was only because she was so concerned for poor, sickly Edward and the toll it had been taking on her marriage with the king.
The royal couple were nowhere near as happy as they had once been just a few short years ago. The king rarely ever saw the queen except for formal occasions when he must be beside her.
Mary truly pitied her stepmother, whom she still knew to be a kind and virtuous lady. She knew that her father's infidelities had wounded her poor departed mother, who had masterfully masked her pain and she knew it must be just as painful for Jane.
Though she behaved amiably as a queen should, Mary knew that Jane was not of royal blood as Katherine had been and so had not been taught to mask her true feelings. And it was glaringly obvious whenever Henry took one of her ladies as a mistress.
As a result, the queen now spent the majority of her time with little Edward and Margery.
Her thoughts slowly returned to Phillip.
She had taken to wearing a great deal of black after her mother's death, only wearing other colors during special occasions. But now she felt herself desiring to do away with her austere black gowns, something Margery had been trying to persuade her to do for sometime.
"Black gowns are for funerals and for old ladies like Lady Bryan," the youngest princess had declared once. "You're still young and beautiful, Mary."
Dinner would begin shortly, Mary realized. Phillip would be there and she wanted him to see her in something aside from the darker gowns she had worn as of late.
With this in mind, she returned to her chambers.
...
George stared down at the letter and frowned.
His uncle Norfolk, whom he had all but cut ties with after the deaths of Anne, Mary, and Thomas, had contacted him. Everyone knew that despite having the king's ear once, the old duke had all but lost his standing to the Seymours, Charles Brandon, and his own nephew.
George was the only Boleyn whom the king was still positively predisposed toward, and Norfolk knew that.
The letter spoke of a relation by the name of Katherine Howard. Apparently, she had been under the care of the Dowager Duchess at Lambeth after the death of her father.
Katherine was young, only about seventeen years old, and had little in the way of prospects. And in the letter, Norfolk was entreating George to try to secure a position for Katherine. He had looked after Mary's children, surely he could look after Katherine's interests too?
George was outraged. He knew exactly what his uncle was doing. But he also knew just how to play the man's game.
'I will soon join my wife at Hever,' he wrote, smirking as his mind concocted his plan, 'Send Katherine there, and I will devise a way to secure her a position at court.'
It would not be the response Norfolk would want, but it would be the only one he would receive.
His father and uncle had used his sisters in an attempt to further their own ambitions, he would not allow the chance to use another member of their family.
...
Brereton had observed the twins' daily activities over the last few days until he was certain that he knew the routine by heart.
The pair would have breakfast in their rooms together but due to the king's insistence, they would have dinner in the Great Hall with everyone else.
Like with all of the other members of the royal family, their food was tasted before it was served to them, but if he were to add the poison right as it was being served to the boys, no one would be the wiser.
And of course with those heretics visiting, the blame could very easily be shifted to them. After all, everyone knew that Duke Wilhelm thought highly of himself and his kin. It would be just like such an arrogant man to believe he could murder the boys with impunity.
So, Brereton had managed to enter the twins' suite of rooms while the meal was being prepared.
The man was determined to see his duty through, so when Lady Bryan dismissed the tasters and other gentlemen of the twins' household before going to summon the so-called princes, Brereton quickly emptied the contents of the vial into the tureen of soup that sat upon the table in the outer chamber and hastily stirred the liquid. The white film disappeared within the contents of the broth just as a man emerged from the chambers.
"Who are you?" the man asked, looking puzzled.
"I...am one of His Majesty's grooms," Brereton answered quickly, trying to think of a lie to explain his presence there. "His...His Majesty has gone hunting this morning, and may be delayed in returning for dinner later, so I thought it prudent to inform the princes."
He forced himself not to flinch as he referred to the boys by their false titles, lest the man notice it and become suspicious.
The man frowned, but said nothing. Even so, Brereton felt an odd sense of foreboding, but only for a moment before he saw Harry take his seat.
"Geoffrey says he'll be along in a moment," the child told the man standing near Brereton.
"Is Lady Bryan scolding him again?" the man asked with a wry smile.
"She told him that expressing his displeasure at certain food is 'unbecoming of a prince of England'," Harry grinned as a bowl of the soup was set in front of him.
The man chuckled and Brereton forced himself to do the same, but his smile was genuine when he saw Harry lift his spoon and brought it to his lips.
Harry grimaced slightly as he swallowed.
"Is something wrong, Your Highness?" the man asked, noticing the child's expression.
"Uncle, is this supposed to be sweet?" Harry questioned.
Geoffrey had now entered the room, closely followed by a now flustered Lady Bryan.
Before the man could answer, Harry began to gag and cough.
"Harry?" Geoffrey looked worried as his twin's face grew pale and the older boy began tp press his hand to his mouth as bile rose in his throat.
Brereton watched as the boy began to cough even harder before retching.
"Harry!" Geoffrey cried out before turning to the others. "What's wrong with him?!"
"Fetch the physician!" Lady Bryan ordered one of the men, who nodded and hurried from the room.
"Will, what's happening?!" Geoffrey looked up at the man, his eyes fearful as Harry began to tremble, softly at first but then more and more violently.
The man who had stood there surveyed the now vomiting prince before turning to the tureen.
"He was perfectly well until he..."
Brereton tried to subtly retreat from the room, all the while wondering why the poison had acted so quickly, quickly enough to prevent Geoffrey from eating the soup as well. He had just reached the doorway when the man, Will, gasped.
"Poison!" the man shouted.
Brereton broke into a run and had just entered the hall, only to feel himself be seized and wrestled him to the floor.
"Don't let him die!" he could hear Geoffrey wailing now. "DON'T LET HIM DIE!"
...
...
I do hope everyone enjoyed that. And the next chapter will be out on Monday, April 15th. Until then, everyone.
And yes, I know I took a slight liberty there with Katherine's age, but it's only a small one.