The rain came down on them before they reached London. They sat quietly listening to the secrets of the rain. It has a lot to say if only one listens. It softens the view and the world becomes a blur of outlines as if a person can merge into it. It's a symphony pouring down from the sky. It serenades the listener with its lonesome lullaby.

Perhaps that's why Mary doesn't mind it. Joy comes. Tears fall. She's learning how there's a beauty in it all. She's tasted bitter and she's tasted sweet. Through all of this, God's had his hand on everything. You just have to look for the good, while you wait for the sun. Because the sun will always make its reappearance bringing with it new life and hope and refreshment for the soul.

Maybe it's not about stopping the downpour, but having someone to walk through it with you. Someone to play in the puddles with. Her head turned to her husband. She spoke in dulcet tones like the beat of the rain, saying "Thank you".

A soft smile formed on his face. He can't help but wonder "Why?"

Taking his hand, she told him why. "For playing in the puddles with me and walking through the rain of my soul." With care, she brought his hand up to her lips and placed a gentle kiss there. Then she turned it over and did the same thing to his palm.

His eyes bore into hers. "My sweet Mary, I will always walk with you. I will walk thousands of miles with you, and I will love you every step of the way. The road may twist and turn and get rough. The sky may storm or be as blue as the ocean in your eyes, but I will be there by your side. I will walk with you anywhere My Darling." He kissed her forehead.

That one kiss on the forehead is sweeter and more promising than hundreds of kisses on the lips. There's no lust in it, but rather it's full love and respect.

The carriage began its final leg of the trip. With her head tucked under his chin, he asked "How are you feeling? We're almost there." He felt her arms clinch him tighter. She didn't have to speak. That little gesture said everything.

"I think I'll be glad when it's over. Then we can return to Suffolk away from the maddening crowd and the vultures. It's funny because I was bred to be a princess. Princesses are supposed to enjoy the liveliness of court and being around the throngs of people." Her head lifted and sat up.

She picked at an embroidered flower on her grayish-purple dress. "But I don't. I suppose my castle in Ludlow taught me about the quiet. Another hard lesson I learned there. I found that even though my life was different, it was much truer. It was quiet. My thoughts were slow and unhurried. All around me for miles was the vast expanse of nature. No foggy haze of the city. And despite being trapped there, there was something beautiful about the scenery. It called to me in the glittery mornings and the golden hour of the afternoon. I'm thankful for that."

He's thankful for it too because, without any of those harsh lessons, she might have been like one of the shallow weedy women at court. How he would hate to suffer that. It was bad enough with his first wife. Still, he told her "Well you won't have to suffer the court alone. I'll be with you. And so will Dot."

Nodding, a smile graced her lovely face. However, it did not make her glow as they so usually do. Subdued, that's how she seems. While her unease concerns him, he's actually glad for it. When she's on fire— charming and winsome, she can warm the blood of even the coldest of men. He'd rather their lascivious thoughts be turned elsewhere.

Although in truth that's a worry. The king calling him away from her, and she being left to herself. Some lewd lord wandering her way and taking advantage of her kind nature. There are many lecherous lords at court. He needs to remind himself to put the eyes, of trusted men, on her.

As they entered London, Mary stared out the window. The city has changed much in her absence. While it has been built up, it looks as derelict as her old castle. But at least her castle didn't chill her bones, and her castle taught her many things that the city never could.

It's strange, the city. In one ride you go from true want to greed, from cheap side to lavish riches. It's disgusting to her spirit. Now that she rules with Charles, in the Duchy, she's seen those who want. Those who hunger for more. Except her people do not hunger for grotesque greediness, they just want to be heard and extended a hand to help them better themselves.

It makes her wonder what her father and other high lords do with their time. Do they not care to interact with their people? Thank God she's married to her husband. He is one of the best men in the kingdom. Her thoughts turned to the remembering of her goal— make him look good.

So she steeled her resolve and fortified her nerves. Then she laced her fingers with her duke's as the carriage came to the castle. Closing her eyes, she caught her breath and organized her thoughts.

"Breathe, Darling. Just breathe," he whispered in her ear.

Once the carriage stopped fully, her pulse raced. Charles got out and began giving instructions. She put on her gray fur-lined cloak and exited when Charles extended his hand. Her own hands pulled the hood tighter around her face. She does not care to be seen yet. Her husband must have sensed this because he cloaked his protection around her. His love is her shield and his strength led the way.

The castle did not welcome her back, nor did she expect it to. A most cold, ungracious, forbidding foe. It did not allow a single happy memory of her childhood to resurface. She tried to think of happier times here, but the struggle was in vain. Instead, her mind held fast to thoughts of recent times.

Times with Charles and her companions. Those warmed her and kept the icy bite at bay. The one thing she did not think about was her mother. If she allowed herself to, all goodwill would be lost. No. She locked her mother's memory up tightly and carried it inside her.

Down corridors, they strode. Not remembering this path, her eyes took it all in. Superfluous decoration lined the halls, as well as luxurious fabrics draping the windows and floors. It's reminiscent of her Lady Aunt's leftovers at Westhorpe Hall before she created it to be a more open, inviting place. This castle and lifestyle are not for her true self. In the quiet of her heart, praise of thanks was given to God for seeing fit to remove her from this place.

Once they reached their apartments, Mary removed the cloak and began familiarizing herself with the space. Her body spun this way and that in a careful examination. It's very manly and bacheloresque. As she stood inspecting a place above the fireplace, arms circled around her waist.

She sunk into the embrace and placed her hands on top of his. The best thing ever is when he folds her into his arms. There's safety and trust there. They swayed as if there were music, though none was had.

"Tonight we have the arrival banquet. You will be presented to His Majesty. All eyes will be on you. I need you to rest up and brace yourself for it," he spoke with truth in kindness.

In her head, she could hear Lady Flora's voice saying "People will stare. So make it worthwhile." She began thinking of what dress to wear. But then all reason was lost when her husband began kissing her neck.

He kissed the spot he knows she loves. His lips began moving to her shoulders too. They left a trail of burn marks along her body. She twisted around in his arms, facing him. Her arms wound around his waist. Since he's taller than her, it's sometimes awkward reaching to put her arms about his neck. But when she complains about her size, he hushes her and lets her know he loves her smaller stature. He says, "It makes me even more protective of you."

Their eyes bore into each other. His head began to lower, with his eyes never leaving hers. She wants his kiss, feels it in her bones. Just as his lips brushed hers a knock sounded at the door. He groaned in frustration, while she chuckled.

Awaiting word from the servant, he pointed his finger at her. "You find that funny do you? All the best things in life are interrupted." He playfully nudged her with his hip.

The servant entered and handed Charles a note. He thanked him and sent him on his way. Skimming over the contents, a huff of annoyance left his mouth. "I have to change and go meet your father. He wants to see me before the banquet." Coming near to his wife, he placed his hands on her arms and ran them down the length to her hands.

"Love, you are not going to see me until you make your entrance later. Just know that all the eyes of the crowd will be upon you. But don't worry about them because I only have eyes for you and in my eyes, you're my everything. You're my estrella, bright and shining. So look at me, 'cause I'll be looking at you." He gave her a peck and held her hand, leading her to the bedroom. It's there he asked for her to help to dress him.

His cerulean orbs never seem to wander too far from her, ever. They were on her as she began flitting around opening trunks. She chose a burgundy color for his doublet to go with his white tunic and black breeches. He looks good in burgundy. He changed pants and shirts and put on the doublet. Then she wrapped a black leather belt around his waist and helped choose his jewelry- the jewelry of a duke. She raked her hands through his hair to help smooth it. Once he was dressed, she kissed his signet ring.

He felt like a king under her attention and affection. Never has he ever felt like this before. Sure he's had women's attention, but none as loving as hers. None as caring as hers. He never craved it either until he had hers. It would be a lie to say he didn't feel a little weak-kneed in his wife's presence.

"You look good My Lord. Don't worry yourself for me. I'll be fine," she told him.

A snort left his sensuous mouth. "Mary I will always concern myself with you. You're my greatest concern and priority. While you say you might be fine, you forget— I know you. Don't forget to seek me out, alright? I love you." He bore into her eyes, so intensely that she became glued to the spot on the floor.

With a nod, she voiced "Alright. I love you too."

After placing a kiss on her hands, he backed out of the room slowly with his eyes still connected to her own. Once the door shut, she searched her own trunk and pulled out a velvet pouch containing her rosary. She then sat on the bed and prayed, for strength and a good memory of everything learned in the lessons. She prayed for protection and favor for her husband, and a little for herself as well as her mother.

When she was all prayed out, another knock sounded. The servant informed Ambassador Chapuys has called on her. Letting herself out of the bedroom, she greeted her old friend.

He kissed her hand and stated "You are looking well. The country life suits you, or should I say The Duke suits you."

A soft smile graced her face. "Both suit me, as does the mantle of Duchess. I know it's not the title of princess, but there's nothing to be done about that." She moved to sit in a chair by the fire.

The Ambassador followed. "There's a lot that could be done about it. For one the Emperor, your cousin, would allow you safe passage to Spain. You would be treated like the princess you are born to be. He could press for an annulment on your marriage due to wedding a man of inferior status—"

With a hardness on both her face and voice, Mary silenced him. "I will not leave my husband. That is final. Where he goes, I go. I realize it may disappoint you and others, but I am satisfied and happy with him. I know he's not a prince, but I don't need a prince. I need Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk."

Looking both shamed and curious, Chapuys bowed his head. "Alright then. I support you in your endeavors as always. Your mother sends her greetings. She longs to see you. I will tell her you are well and loved."

With that, the two of them took tea and conversed on other matters. Once he left, Mary called for Dot and Joan. The two came in and began to help ready her for the banquet. They marveled at the dress she chose to wear.

"You don't think it's too much, do you?" she asked. The gown is an eye-catcher to be sure. It's meant to be seen, which means she has to be her best.

Dot reassured her friend. "It's perfect for tonight, truly stunning. But if you didn't wear this one, then what other one would you wear?"

She pulled out two more dresses, both worthy opponents. Joan let out a sigh of happiness and declared "I am so happy I get to live my dress dreams through you."

All three girls laughed. Dot told Mary, "The other two are gorgeous, but remember what Harris said about first impressions? You only get one. So I think in light of that, and tonight, you need to wear the first dress." She held it up. "In fact, it speaks. It says, Hi. I'm Mary Brandon. Her Grace, the Duchess of Suffolk. I'm here and ready to make my husband look good, so back away you lusting ladies and simpering idiots. He's mine."

With a snicker, Mary acquiesced. "Alright, you've convinced me. The sparkly, dark green, game-changing dress it is." Her two ladies began to help attire her, with Joan bringing out the shoes. Once she stepped into them everything was done, except jewelry and hair.

Having forgoed a necklace and bracelets, the Duchess of Suffolk opted to wear her jewelry on her fingers, ears, and hair. She wore dangling circle diamond earrings. No matter which way her head the diamonds would always catch the light. Her hair was left loose and long, in flowing waves. A skinny diamond and small pearl headband sat in it. A forest green leather belt cinched her waist.

Turning to her friends, she questioned them "How do I look?"

"Like royalty, My Lady," Joan conveyed. Her eyes wore a dreamy expression.

Dot agrees, except for one thing. "Your husband already can't take his eyes off you, but seeing you in that will stupefy him." Joan nodded at this.

By the time she had finished dressing, a servant told her a great majority of guests have entered the banquet hall. Breathing in a calming breath, Mary supposed "I guess it's time for me to make my appearance before the king and my new, whorish step-mommy." The three girls all shared a look before Joan sent Her Grace and Lady Dot off with hugs.

As the two of them walked the corridors to the hall, the Duchess turned heads. Everyone wanted to know who this new lady is and if she was worth knowing. Dot whispered to her, "No one seems to know who you are. That's good. You'll take them by surprise."

Just before reaching the entrance, her feet faltered. Her hand reached out and grasped Dot's. "I don't think I can do this. What if I fail or embarrass my husband and myself?"

Dot may not be the cleverest lady ever, but she does have moments that shock even her. "But what if you don't? Isn't it worth it to find out, for the Duke's sake?"

Still holding her friend's hand, she closed her eyes. Inhaling a huge breath, she let it out slowly. Then opened them, let go of Dot, and nodded.

The same feet that faltered, stepped proudly to the entrance. The guards asked her name. She told them "The Duchess of Suffolk." They let her and Dot pass, as they told the herald.

Heart beating fast, standing alone, she put on her bravery. Then the herald announced her. "Announcing Her Grace, The Duchess of Suffolk."

In an instant, a hush fell over the crowd. As expected all eyes turned to her. Swallowing thickly, her eyes scanned the crowd for her husband. She saw him standing off to the side of His Majesty. He smiled and gave a small nod.

Ignoring the crowd, her feet carried her forward one step closer and closer to him. All of her doubt faded away in the warmth of his face. It's as if his eyes seemed to say, Darling, don't be afraid. I love you. He gave her more courage than he will ever know.

Even when she came to the throne of the king, her eyes only held her husband's. That is until she had to curtsy. One thing Harris had her review was the art of the curtsy. He had her practice it over and over one day until it was to his liking, which is perfection. So she executed a perfectly perfect curtsy to His Majesty.

Upon the finish, His Highness left the throne. He stepped forward to her. Not believing his eyes, he addressed her. "Mary? My Mary? Is it you?" He came close to her.

The whole time her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She kept her eyes lowered, but he lifted her head with his hand.

"It is you," he whispered. Then he placed a kiss on her forehead. Now, this is interesting because her husband does it a lot. His forehead kiss always leaves her feeling things. At the end of her father's kiss, she thought perhaps she should feel more than she does. But it only left her hollow.

And that's when she knew she was on the right path. Normally she would be filled with such hope from any morsel of affection her father gave her. Like she was begging for his scraps. Loneliness had made her lower her standards. But now where there was tension, she felt peace. And that's all because of one person, who came to take his place beside her.

He spoke. "Majesty allow me to formally introduce to you your daughter, my wife. Her Grace, Mary Brandon." His hand rested on the small of her back and she felt it through her dress. She swears an imprint will be there.

In truth, Henry could not believe his eyes. The last time he saw his daughter she was but a child. Now she's a lovely lady, who executed a flawless curtsy unlike other ladies of the court. Hearing a throat clear beside him, he turned and saw his new wife, soon to be the queen.

"Allow me to introduce my own wife. Her Grace, The Marquess of Pembroke. Ann Tudor." He then told her, "Ann this is my daughter Mary."

Mary felt a chill pass over her, the same as when she entered the city. She did not care to raise her eyes at this woman. Less contact with her the better. But then she said something that Mary will never forget.

Studying the once princess, the future queen declared "You mean your bastard daughter."

At that, she felt her husband's fingers dig into her back. It's clear by the grip he is upset. Daring to not feel slighted, Mary raised her head. She beheld the woman who is to be queen, her new stepmother. A nasty, vain, peacock.

She isn't always kind and good and loving like people think. There are times when she feels thoughtless and harsh. This is one of those times. A silent prayer left her heart and rose up to Heaven. "Lord please give me patience. Because if you give me strength, I'll need mercy from the king because I'll be thrown into The Tower." It's only by grace it wasn't prayed out loud.

With a faultless curtsy again, she rose and said "Madam, it's nice to meet you." What she really wants to say is "Madam, keep your fat, miserable, nightmarish arse away from me." Her eyes conveyed that, at least she hoped they did.

The Whore pierced her soulless eyes into Mary's. "Likewise, Lady Mary. I do hope we can be friends." She made sure to emphasize lady. Then she rested her hand on the king's arm and said something else. "You should know, I am with child. Please don't be offended when our children take precedence over you in line for the throne."

Henry bristled at this uncouth behavior. He had not wanted to announce it this way. His mouth opened to put an end to this. However, his daughter spoke.

Since this woman decided to degrade her in front of all the court, then she will be sincere. "No. I'm not offended. In fact, I thank you, Madam. You have given me a gift, the both of you. I find that not being an heir to the throne is such a relief. In fact, being Duchess of Suffolk is more my station and to my liking. I am very blessed."

Holding her head up high, and her posture perfectly straight, she took hold of her husband's hand which held tightly to hers. Sometimes, she realized, you just have to be done. Not mad or angry, just done. This is the moment she cast off her father and his whore and stopped playing at princess. She will never be one in the eyes of her father, not anymore. Instead, she relished being the Duchess.

It's funny how she is treated like an enemy in a place where she should be welcomed. It's also so sad how she sees amity, kindness, compassion, and care everywhere she goes except when she's supposed to be "home"— with her father.

His Highness bowed to his daughter, a little more than caught off guard by her words. He expected her to flare up and act with righteous indignation, or cry, but she didn't. Most unexpectedly, she thanked him for lowering her status. Most people don't do that. Perhaps this is why his eyes stayed with her most of the evening. And what he learned took him by surprise.

His daughter made the rounds, along with her husband, to members of the court. Except not the high nobility, the lords of lesser estates. He could tell she left a good impression on each of them. In fact, he dares to say she has made the best impression possible, especially with himself.

But what really made him pause was seeing her with his oldest, truest friend. There's a sweetness there, a kindness about them. Their eyes always find the other. They never stray too far and find ways to offer touches. A brush of the hand here, a finger on the arm there. It's all so very cute.

When they danced, which Charles hates, they stole the room. He knew the two of them were in love. His friend has never behaved this way before and his daughter looks more alive than when she was little. And suddenly he felt lonely surrounded by all his subjects and his new wife.

For once Charles was not lonely at court. The presence of his wife makes all the difference. She truly is a star, an estrella. Her loveliness shines its light everywhere she goes, most particularly on lords and ladies, he has never talked to. How she remembers all of their names he'll never know. With the quickness of wit, smart thinking, and careful planning, she helped him accrue more deals of trade for the Duchy. It's mind-boggling if he thinks too long on it.

At the end of the night, as they entered their chambers, he stopped her in the middle of the bedroom. "Lady Brandon you have claimed me. I am forever permanently in love with you. You look stunning in that dress."

Her smile is for him. He always says sweet things to her. She needs to reciprocate. "You, Lord Brandon, are an amazing man. I fall a little more in love with you every day. And even when I'm old and greying, I'll still love you."

His arms pulled her close and his breath fell to her lips. But she whispered, "I want to make you proud."

Caressing her face, he told her with a strangled voice "You do. When you married me I was proud. When you embraced your new home I was prouder. But when you became my Duchess in truth, I was overcome with pride for you. Don't you see Mary? It's just you. Only you." Then he did what he wanted to do earlier before they were interrupted. His lips lowered to hers.