Determined to follow her husband's advice, Mary gathered her strength and wore it like a necklace. The day he left she was pitiful. She cried as soon as the carriage was well out of sight. Lady Agnes, Lady Dot, and Joan (the red-haired maid) consoled her. It should have been odd having three ladies below her station consoling her, but it was not because she doesn't care about such things. Perhaps if she had not been cast aside, and locked up in her prison, but instead treated like a true princess of the court, she would have a care. But people are people, and companions are companions no matter who they are.
Admittedly she does not have an interest in Lady Catherine Willoughby. She has cared not for the girl from the moment she set her blue eyes on her. The lady has romantic notions towards her husband. She can tell by her noxious mannerisms and her tendency to act sillier than usual whenever he's near. It grates on her nerves. Plus she is completely frivolous and gossipy. Other things that touch the nerves. She hates gossip because it's never good. Plus she has been on the receiving end of it over the years. So she steers clear of Lady Catherine and sticks close to Dot, Lady Agnes, and yes, Joan.
She does, however, feel terrible for the way she has treated Lady Dorothy Grosvenor. During the week she has sought to amend that friendship. Thankfully Lady Dot has accepted her back into her good graces, along with the bearing of secrets that she has learned about the town of Suffolk. Dot has been her truest companion since childhood. Her mother served in Queen Katherine's retinue. It rendered Dot the ability to become acquainted with then Princess Mary. As the princess's companion Dot studied academics with her and became one of her ladies in wait.
Somewhere in time, during the years at Ludlow, Mary became more withdrawn and hesitant. Less of the free spirit from girlhood. She especially became unsure of companions, never knowing who to trust or not. Many of her ladies, whom she had considered companions, left her after the reduction of her home (thanks to her father). They took leave to serve elsewhere, with more affluent noble ladies. Only Lady Dot and Lady Marge stayed. Now she's left with just Dot.
It was on the fourth day of moping about that Lady Agnes suggested she go into town. "My Lady Mary, you would like the town of Suffolk. It is full of wonderful enterprise. Plus there is a fabric store filled with fine materials of every color. We still have not gotten to the curtains. With His Grace away now would be the perfect time to do them." Her lady is heartsick for her husband. The more she gets to know Lady Mary the more she believes she is an answer to past prayers. And that roguish imp she helped raise has finally fallen in love (anyone can see it on his face). She praises God for that too.
"You are right as usual. It's time I stopped being silly and did something with myself. Lady Dot, would you fancy a trip into town?" She saw her friend's face brighten.
Lady Dot bubbled at the chance for them to explore this new area. "Yes! We should go."
The two of them readied themselves and waited for the carriage, which took them into Suffolk town. Suffolk is booming with life. London may be the heart of the country, and full of lively shops, but this town has a life of its own. A gentler, kinder life. Many booths, and shops, were set up with fine craftsmanship and of course, baked goods.
The first store they visited was the tailor and seamstress. They marveled over fabrics. Upon choosing a blue silk damask and a citrine cotton printed toile in colors of pink, red, blue, tan, and green an appointment was made. The assistant would come to the manor and measure the windows, for the new drapes.
After choosing curtain fabric, her eyes were drawn to some silk nightgowns on display. Lady Dot noticed them too. While Dot knew exactly what she wanted, Mary did not. She ran her fingers over them. They are all expertly made and quite delicate. "You know, he would like you even if you wore a sack to bed," Dot mentioned.
Mary's hand flew to her cheek. Her complexion has to be flushed for sure. She chastised her companion. "Dot don't speak about such things in public. It's unseemly."
Rolling her hazel eyes, Dot informed her friend of a fact. "Mary we have known each other for years. We grew up together even. But you are married to one of the most handsome men in all of England. And if I had someone like him look at me the way he looks at you, I would buy that little blue thing your hand is on."
Biting her lip, Mary examined the little blue thing closer. It's silk trimmed in lace. It cuts low to the bosom and is fitted there. Then it hangs looser on the hips but stops just above the knee. Above the knee! Why a wicked woman would wear this, not a married lady and especially not a Duke's wife. No. She cannot buy this. It's... it's immodest and unlike any nightgown, she has ever owned.
The shop owner's wife, Edith, wandered over to the two girls. "You know My Lady we have had many a noblewoman, such as yourself, purchase ones just like that."
Surely not! "You must jest," Mary stated firmly.
That was when Edith informed her of something. "I wish I could, but I do not. In fact, just yesterday a fancy lady came through those doors and ordered one even more suggestive than that. Truth be told she did not order just one, but several. And if I had your figure I would buy one too."
Her mind heard Charles's voice telling her they would finish what they started. Before her mind knew what her fingers were doing, she handed the gown to the tailor's wife. "Here. Please order this for me." If her mother knew what she was doing, she would be shamed all the way to the Cliffs of Dover. And her father! Oh Lord, her husband is her father's best friend. If she thinks about it too much she'll rescind the order.
But isn't it alright for a woman to want to look her best for her husband, even in the bedroom? Since marrying the Duke, she has found she wants to look good for him. She wants to take better care of herself, which was also neglected in Ludlow. She wants to wear things that are more attractive and appealing. She just doesn't know how. And she's also found over the years, that when tailors visited they would talk about her choices behind her back. Poke fun at her, so upon her father's reduction of income and home, dresses have been the least of her worries.
After Edith took her measurements, she paid for the garment and they were on their way. The gown, if you could call it such, would be ready by the beginning of next week. Dot grinned proudly and Mary ignored her by saying "I can hear the smirk on your mouth all the way from here."
Next, they visited the potter for new earthenware. She has been hearing the cook's assistant, Ruby, complaining of a lack of cookware and dishes. When she surveyed the kitchen and the dishes she had to agree. She ordered ones glazed in blue with gold edging, to match their coat of arms. Oh, how lovely they will look at dinner time or at feasts!
It has become quite obvious that her late aunt, Charles's first wife, loved dark colors. Most especially red and gold. While the red and gold are more symbolic of the Tudor coat of arms, it is not as much aligned with The Duke of Suffolk. Blue and gold, or white and red, are the colors of his crest. Mary wants to honor it with lots of blues, whites, and gold. The red will look best as flowers. Plus she just really likes softer, more attractive colors. They are happy and she is in want of happiness.
The other items she ordered are several Dutch ovens. This should appease the cook and his staff. Once they left the potter's shop, she inquired about landscaping. They were directed to a farm. It's there where she and Dot met Albert and Lois Gardner. He showed her row after row of landscaping. Many plants were purchased in various colors and types. Anemones, Asters, Astilbe, Delphiniums, Echinaceas, Irises, Salvias... The flower list went on and on. And of course, she bought roses, because what good is a garden without roses?
Speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, Mary found out their son is an architect at designing stately gardens. She was shown drawings of some he has produced for several Lords and Ladies. Their son, Timothy, became The Duke and Duchess of Suffolk's new landscaping architect artist.
By the end of November, Westhrope Hall no longer looked like itself. The inside of the manor felt reinvigorated with new draperies and home goods that brightened it up. Color combinations of blue, yellow, coral, and blush gave the home an overall attractive appearance. Gold was a color mixed throughout because everything needs a little shine.
But the true transformation came with the gardens on the outside. Starting with the back of the house, it boasted new triangular-shaped beds of flowers. Boxwoods lined the perimeter of the grounds. A new circular fountain, with a ceremonious water feature, was plopped in the middle of it all. Iron benches were sat around it. Instead of leaving the path all dirt, Timothy had stones laid for smoother walking.
That is the back of the house. Timothy also made changes to the grounds at the front too. He removed the sculptures lining the long dirt driveway to the entrance. In their place he had the men plant another perimeter of boxwoods and beds of English lavender. He also cut back the shrubbery growing close to the manor. It was too overgrown and did not allow the front of the estate to be seen properly.
When the garden projects were finished in their entirety, Mary, Lady Agnes, Lady Dot, and all of the staff marveled. No one could believe that Westhrope Hall could look so good, and yet it does. The Hall has been transformed into a dignified estate befitting its Lord and Lady.
After saying she might cry, Lady Agnes did cry. She blubbered into her apron. For years she had wanted to see the home treated the way it should be. Now it has. She looked at Her Lady and noted though she is beautiful, her thoughts are beautiful too. Her ability to make other people smile, even when she is sad is a gift. She is grace personified deep down to her soul and thanks be to the Lord this woman was brought into their lives.
The beginning of December brought new diversions into Mary's life. In truth, by now, she can use all the distractions she can get. The longing for her husband gets stronger with each passing day. She misses him and his scent, on his pillow, is all but disappeared.
The first distraction came on a Wednesday. She had just set down to read while Dot sketched. A commotion was heard in the front entrance. The head butler, Cranston, was trying to send two men away. The men were arguing.
Mary cast her book onto a side table, while Dot put down her sketch pad and followed. Walking to the entrance she wondered whatever could be the matter. Upon her arrival, the two arguing men bowed. Cranston informed her "Your Ladyship, you need not trouble yourself. I was just seeing these men to the door." The men grumbled.
Holding her hand up to silence them, she declared "Sir Cranston please show these men into the assembly room." That room is brightly lighted with multiple tall windows flanking it. There's also a desk in there, that she suspects her husband uses to conduct meetings.
John Cranston bristled but did as he was told. He led the two men into the room and had Abbigail (a maid) bring tea for Her Ladyship. Before Mary went to speak with the men, she questioned Lady Agnes. "Lady Agnes, what can you tell me about these men?"
Lady Agnes touched her hair and shook her head in disapproval. "Well Lady Mary, they are two of the most ornery men if ever there were. They both farm and are in constant competition with each other. His Grace has tried many times to solve their problems, but they will not listen."
Thanking her, Mary fixed the gold belt she wore, with her colorful silk striped dress. Then she went into Charles's study. On his desk, she took parchment containing the official seal of The Duke of Suffolk. She also procured his quill.
She is thankful to have been trained in the art of governance in childhood lessons. Ruling a Duchy should be akin to ruling a whole country. There is nothing to worry about, except perhaps doing something Charles would disapprove of. Nonetheless, she must at least try to help.
Entering the assembly room, the men stood with courtesy. They sat after she did. Putting the parchment where they could see it, with the seal of the Duke staring them down, she implored "Now gentlemen tell me what the matter is."
Farmer Beckett spoke first. His spindly finger pointed at the other man. "He don't keep his pigs off my land." Farmer Schafer began to bicker with Beckett again. It's headache-inducing to hear them go on.
Mary quieted them both. "Alright, so Farmer Beckett what you are saying is his pigs are grazing on your land." Beckett nodded. She looked to Farmer Schafer. "Is this true Sir? Are your swine in his fields?"
Schafer looked uncomfortable. "Ah well My Lady," he sputtered. Had it been The Duke he would have given some story, but Her Ladyship looks much too knowing for that. Instead, he told her the truth. "They like to free-range."
"They near destroyed my wheat crops and ate my grass all to bits. Opportunistic hogs is what they be," complained Beckett. Schafer began arguing with the man again.
Holding her hand up for peace, Mary asked them to tell her more about the property and the boundaries. Once they did, an idea came to her mind. Charles has probably already alerted them to it, she's sure. "Men, it seems clear to me that you need a fence." The men looked at her like she was a mythical dragon from long ago.
She continued on with her reasoning. "A fence built on the property lines dividing each property would ensure that your crops and land, Mr. Beckett, stay intact. It also helps for the free range of your pigs Mr. Schafer. What do you say, gentlemen?"
The two men looked at each other. Schafer scratched his head, while Beckett told Her Ladyship he is on board to do it. "Well Mr. Schafer, what say you?" she inquired. The sooner they leave the sooner the house will be peaceful.
At the last moment, Schafer agreed. Mary offered them funds to help build it, with a notice to repay the amount. She even extended to them the work of her own farmhands to start the construction. Both Schafer and Beckett wore shocked faces. They readily accepted the help and expressed their thanks by gushing "Thank you, My Lady. Thank you." And backed out of the room in disbelief.
They were both so pleased with the advice and help they received that they told others in the Duchy. Word got out about His Lordship's new wife and her fair but sound reasoning. Soon more citizens of the Duchy started showing up at Westhrope Hall.
It drove John Cranston to frustration. He could constantly be heard telling the commoners to "Do not step on the flower beds. They were just planted a month ago. Please mind your steps." Or Mary's favorite "Do not touch the vase. It's priceless." Hearing him mutter to himself always put a smile on her face, especially when he says "Lord! The fingerprints on the decor! We'll have to clean for days." And after the people would leave, later in the day, he organized the staff to count everything to make sure nothing is missing.
In order to relieve Cranston from his headache, Mary had word go out. The message the people received was no longer would she hold governance every day. Only one day a week, Wednesday would be devoted to matters of governance. Henceforth Wednesday would be known as Governance Day. And it worked.
People no longer showed up at all sundry hours of the day. Now they only came on Wednesday. It allowed Cranston to secure valuables, and rope off the shrubbery. As for Mary, she had fun meeting the people of their Duchy. They came from near and far, to hear her opinions on matters. It was very humbling for her too. And in truth, it helped take her mind off her husband.
The other thing that took her mind off Charles in France, is a persnickety old Countess. Mid-December Mary wanted to do something for the Suffolk residents. So she had Cook make batches of a nice winter apple jelly. It would serve as "gifts" and foster goodwill, along with the soaps Dot and Joan sell in the marketplace.
With parchment in hand, she sat at a desk in the drawing-room. Lady Agnes and Dot were there with her. She also had Joan attend too. Recently she moved Joan from cleaning to being her personal maid. It's so rare to find one who you trust. Even rarer to find one you like. "Alright, Lady Agnes. Tell me who, of importance, should we share the jelly with."
Lady Ashdown began naming off people. Mary's quill moved fast across the paper, writing each name. Then Joan interrupted. "Pardon me M'am, but you forgot the Dowager Countess."
Mary stopped and looked up from the writing. "The Dowager Countess?" She has not heard of this before until now.
Breathing out a breath of disgust, Lady Agnes told Joan "She does not need to be on the list."
But Mary disagreed. "If she's a Dowager Countess living in our Duchy then she should be on our list. I can tell you don't care for her. Why?"
Joan laughed while Lady Agnes sent her a scathing look. Agnes spoke. "She bothers His Grace to no end. Ever since that woman moved in, over two years ago, she has been most disagreeable. She natters him about the roads, the signage on the roads, tree limbs on the roads, you name it and she disapproves of it."
Knowing the countess seems to be one of those women, Mary kept her comments to herself. However, she still added the Dowager Countess's name to the gift list. She also wondered why a Dowager Countess would choose to live in a Duchy, instead of her own estate land? On the day of delivery, a week before Christmas, Mary tied a beautiful ribbon around the countess's jar.
The carriage took both she and Dot first to the orphanage in town, where Her Grace presented the nuns money made from her soaps. The nuns of the foundling home were overjoyed and so very appreciative. Mary promised to come back and visit the children.
The next stop was all along the Duchy delivering the jars of winter jam. The residents could not believe it and blessed Her Ladyship for the gift. Inside the carriage, Mary told Dot "It's such a small thing, the jelly. But it means so much to some people." The final stop was the home of the Dowager Countess.
The house the countess lives in is a modest, but grand, two-story house. It boasts thirteen rooms, compared to the Manor which seems to have a million. Once the carriage stopped, Mary held tight the jar of jelly. She smoothed the silk of her skirt after exiting the carriage. Both she and Dot went to the door, knocked, and waited to be announced.
A plump man, who most likely is the butler, saw them inside. He left them to wait. The inside of the house is grandiose in style and decor. Full of fine things and silks everywhere. Mary felt underdressed at that moment. She wore a simple voluminous black silk skirt with a red rose-colored sleeveless tunic underneath a sheer black lace top. It's one of her more easy but fetching outfits. Her jewels do all the talking.
The portly man returned and told them in a snide voice "The Dowager Countess is busy."
They had been dismissed! Mary felt perturbed but wore a smile on her face. She held out the jelly. The butler sniffed at it. "For the Countess. It's a winter apple jelly and quite delicious. We wish your lady a Merry Christmas!" Then Mary turned with her head held high and exited the house with Dot. This began a silent jelly war between Her Grace and the Dowager Countess.
The very next day, saw the winter jelly returned with no note. It rankled Mary to have it returned. So, she affixed a new ribbon and sent it back to the Countess with her own note that reads "Merry Christmas Countess. Her Grace, The Duchess of Suffolk." The jelly was again returned. Not to be outdone, Mary sent it back another time along with a basket of fruit.
As the jelly war waged on, Charles was fighting his own battle. How he does loathe Anne Boleyn and her serpentine family. She is the epitome of everything he dislikes, chief of all being the fact she's the reason his mother-in-law is deposed. Also a source of hurt for his wife. He sat nursing a glass of wine watching the devil in disguise dance with King Francis. The woman seems to have bewitched him too.
His friend Anthony Knivert joined him. "Charles, why are you sitting here looking troubled in your cups?"
Raising his glass to his friend, Charles replied "Because I am here and my wife is far over there, back in Suffolk. Plus I have to play nice on this farce of a trip." He took a drink.
Knivert recognized something is different about his friend. He first noticed it on the trip over, although he can't put his finger on what this change is yet. "I agree with you but better to play nice than to lose one's head. Now tell me how is married life and why is it that you always seem to wind up marrying princesses? Is there one I don't know about that you can spare me?"
This made Charles chuckle. "I'm afraid I've taken the last one. Married life is good. My wife is not at all what I thought her to be. She is kind, gentle, intelligent, enterprising—-" He was cut off by his friend.
"And beautiful. I hope so or is she haggard like her aunt in Scotland? I shudder at the thought," Tony stated bluntly.
Huffing out a breath, reminiscent of his wife, Charles mused "You are talking about a queen you know? But she is rather spinsterish." They both made faces. "No my wife does not look at all like that. She is a true beauty inside and out, and can rival any lady of the court." He started thinking about his wife then. Memories of their steamy kiss flooded his mind. He misses her something terrible.
That is when it hit Tony what the change is in his friend. Now thinking on it, he also is reminded that his friend has not bedded lovers on the trip either. "Oh, God. You've finally done it. You have fallen in love." This called for another drink. He motioned for the servant to refill their cups.
Charles tried to play it off. He scoffed. "I am not in love. Love is for men who have nothing better to do than sit at home and play husband with a wife and three kids."
Seeing through that statement, his friend asked "So if one of these other gentlemen here took an interest in your wife, you wouldn't care? You can't see yourself with three children that look like you and her? You don't wish you were at home right now?"
"Who the hell here is interested in my wife? Over my dead body will I allow that to happen." Charles eyed every man there with a murderous look.
Tony laughed out loud. Once he composed himself, he spoke. "Right. You don't love your wife. Yet the only thing that registered in your brain is when I said other gentlemen took an interest in her. Which is fictitious by the way. The only man here interested in her is you. But keep telling yourself you don't love her."
With a glare, Charles admitted "Fine. I love my wife. Are you satisfied?"
"Yes. But will the king be satisfied? That's the question. He did not marry her off to you for love. He married her off for protection and to keep her from plotting." Tony's eyes followed their king's movements.
Downing more of his drink, Charles shook his head. "What's she going to plot? Sewing circles? She doesn't talk to anyone outside of Lady Dorothy and sometimes Chapuys (when he takes a notion to visit). Didn't he realize that love could happen? And surely he knows children are a possibility too?" Sometimes his friend, the king, could be the most selfish of people.
"Children are another matter entirely Charles. As you say there is the possibility of children. What are you going to do if your wife gifts you an heir? You do realize that even though your mother-in-law has been moved to The Manor of the More, and will be divorced thereby making your wife a bastard, any child you have is the rightful heir to the crown? The people will not love or acknowledge The Whore as queen. You saw how they hurled insults at her on the way here. I do not envy you this time," Tony shared with him.
Honestly, Charles thought little of their future children. He has only been thinking of his wife. However, his friend is right. His wife could become the next Queen of England over time. As his eyes watched The Whore dance, he knew she would never be loved or accepted.
To add to this, his old inferior thoughts began to resurface. He has not consummated their marriage yet. Mary could at some point get an annulment and marry a man of her equal. He has a choice to make. Either he hides his love deep inside his heart and keep his wife at arm's length, or he shares his love freely and keeps his wife.