Everything in the Grand Duke and Duchess's lives is new. Their marriage is still new, their love is new, their titles are newly minted, a new puppy, the territory of Wales is new to them, the extreme Welsh manor is new, and there are new people to govern. So many opportunities surround them. New beginnings and new chances have come their way.
So much change can be scary. What's scarier is allowing fear of the unknown to stop them from growing and progressing onward. Sometimes the only way to find the true direction is to let the wind of change propel you forward. And for Mary, whose faith has carried her in times of darkness and abandonment, knows she and Charles are right where they're supposed to be.
It seems as though one day she closed her eyes only to open them in a new story. Which it kind of is. Her life has taken a new direction, one she never dreamed of. And it looks nothing like her past, but it's better. All of the heartaches she endured were space being created for something new to grow. God's got her right where he wants her. He's been in the details behind the scenes ordering things just so, even though she didn't understand it at the time.
The season has shifted and changed once again. The adventure begins by adding the words growing new life to the long list of life-altering changes. There is nothing like the wonder of new life to renew the spirit and unravel threads of unresolved issues. A new baby is like the beginning of all sorts of things. New hopes and dreams that long lay dormant begin to shine a little brighter. A tiny bit of heaven is growing inside her.
After telling Charles of the pregnancy, he began to hover. He may have thought he was being subtle, but she could tell. It was the way his presence lingered in the atmosphere long after he had gone. His handprints are all over the additional guards on her detail. She had questioned him about the guard detail before she was pregnant, as she had noticed a change in the number of them.
He had smiled his cheeky smile and told her "But you have such a fine tail that it begs to be defended at all costs." Of course, he would say that. Only now that she is pregnant there seem to be even more guards than her father has assigned to The Evil One.
Not only that but she's also noticed an alteration in her dietary needs. No longer is she allowed sweet treats, but an intake of more healthy foods. She asked the cook, Mrs. Evans, about this. The practical, broad-waisted woman only said "I cook what's on the list, My Lady."
Mary knows what's on the list. She made it out herself. However, her mind wondered... Her hands grasped it. Taking a look at the meal agenda made irritation spark and rise. There are scratch marks made to her handwriting all over the page. His Highness had made changes by adding in more vegetables and removing custards, cakes, and fritters.
She gasped! If that man thinks he can take away the sweets he has another thing coming to him. She may be small but she is fierce when need be. Right now she's fierce about food. Since he had ridden to look at the easternmost borders today, she knew it would be some time before he returned. But when he does he will have a taste of those gross greens, he's been feeding her, and choke on them. Well, maybe not choke. More like a bad case of the stomach being upset.
With a strong determination, she told Mrs. Evans to put the sweets back on the menu. And added a kind "if you please" at the end. The energetic, greying woman agreed with a smile. After that, Her Highness went to fine Lady Enid. She wants to have a conversation with the housekeeper. Duke is following close at her heels.
Lady Enid, a clever hard-worker, is found in the spacious sitting room. Currently, she is busy instructing a servant on the state of the fireplace. But when her eyes saw Her Ladyship enter, she hurried to her side. "My Lady won't you please have a seat." Her hand motioned to the elaborate needlepoint sofa.
Nodding, Mary moved to the piece of furniture. She loves this couch from its serpentine back to the scroll of the arms. The fabric is fun too in colors of blue, yellow, green, pink, and gold. There are also "hidden" pictures nestled among the print. But the loveliest feature is the needlepoint upholstery and coordinating tassels. Plus it's comfortable to sit on, which makes it even better.
Duke had already made himself at home by the fireplace. From there he rolled onto his back with hind legs up in the air to take a nap. He sleeps like that, even though it's a most unrefined position. Charles laughed at her expression the first time she saw the dog do that. Since he's a puppy, she thought to have Dylan break him of the habit. However, her husband said not to. He told her "When he sleeps like that it means he's comfortable and trusts his environment." So she left the pup alone.
Gesturing to a chair, Her Ladyship asked the housekeeper to sit. Once the kind woman did, Mary began to ask questions. "Lady Enid what can you tell me of my grandmother, Queen Elizabeth of York?"
Lady Enid became a bit fidgety but answered "Her Royal Highness was a gracious, polite, and plucky woman. Not so unlike yourself, My Lady. You and she are similar in that regard. But I was only a young girl then."
Those words were encouraging to hear, how she and her grandmother are alike. "Please tell me more," she prompted. With a craving for fritters overtaking her senses, she rang the bell and Glyn arrived. Having asked for tea, biscuits, and fritters, for both she and Lady Enid, Glyn disappeared.
Settling down, the high-strung housekeeper began to speak again. "Your grandmother was a fine lady, one of the finest I have ever worked for. She enjoyed the lute and a good book. Since I was still a young girl, with fanciful notions, Her Majesty would tell me great tales of her childhood. She told me all about her many adventures of a young princess playing with her siblings in rose gardens, or the ones where she would outsmart her governess. She loved outsmarting the governess to spend her time dreaming."
Lady Enid had a far-off look on her face as if remembering those times. It was then she learned something she did not know before. "Did you know your grandmother, the Queen, was declared illegitimate too?" When she saw her young mistress's face she continued on. "Her uncle the Duke of Gloucester, began ruling as Lord Protector of the realm. It was the first stage of a coup, having put your two uncles in the Tower. Your grandmother was at the Abbey during this. The Duke seized power and made himself king. Upon which he declared Elizabeth's father's marriage invalid and proclaimed her to be a bastard."
She knew the King, Her Highness's father, had declared the same of her. Looking at Lady Mary's face, she told the girl "Once your grandfather assumed the throne, he had your grandmother's illegitimacy reversed and she became Queen of England. She married at the age of nineteen. So you see, My Lady the two of you are similar in more ways. She never gave up hope and from what I know of you, neither have you."
With this new knowledge, all the questions she wanted to ask Lady Enid were erased. They can wait another day. Right now she had been given a gift. She had acquired information that soothed her spirits a little. Knowing that someone in her own familial line, her grandmother, had traveled a similar life path served to uplift and boost her morale regarding that issue.
If her grandmother having been labeled a bastard, can be brave and strong then she can be too. Her grandmother's life had unexpected things happen, things that weren't always pleasant. The only control there is how to handle those moments. Either let them ruin you or survive them through courage, grace, and wits.
It doesn't matter how everything falls apart, it's the putting back together that matters most. She is full of wounds, some deep, some not. Yet she is still standing stronger than before. Despite all of the things that have tried to keep her down, she has the one thing she's always wanted— love.
She may not be the Queen of England and rule the realm, but she can build her own kingdom. The kind of kingdom she wants. A kingdom of love, kindness, faith, goodwill, and joy- the kingdom of her heart. That will never be taken from her and it's also what she wants to give to the babe growing inside her.
Relishing the truths of her grandmother, and storing them in her heart, she turned to Lady Enid again. "I need help. We're hosting the ball soon and I have no idea what to do. I've never hosted one on my own before. Will you help me?" Of course, the housekeeper consented. The two of them got started with planning straight away, enjoying the refreshments Glyn brought.
It was late afternoon, the golden hour when the clomping of horses and a carriage was heard. Standing, to ready herself for her husband's return, it fell flat when men burst into the house. Duke woke up from his slumber and began a puppy growl. "Quick! Quick we need to make haste! His Highness is wounded!" Servants scrambled about to do whatever is needed.
Rushing towards them, she gasped. Charles is laid out cold and bleeding. One of his guards, Jeffery, told her "We were ambushed, My Lady. His Highness got hurt in the fight, trying to fend the men off. A man sent for the doctor. He's lost some blood, but I've seen men live from much worse."
Much worse! She doesn't think it could be much worse, as she followed the men carrying her husband. They laid him on a guest bed downstairs. Lady Enid and two servant girls tended to him until the doctor arrived. The whole time she stood there, useless and feeling helpless. She takes it back, all the thoughts she thought about him taking sweets off the menu. She will gladly eat the greens if it means having her husband.
Just then Doctor Pearce, a man of thorough, steadfast, precise care and knowledge, burst into the room. His young apprentice and his lady nurse followed after. The apprentice is holding the doctor's bag. Upon examination, he instructed the servants to bring boiled water, and clean rags. Then he added "And wine. Lots of wine."
Thinking he is going to use it to flush out the wound, Mary commended him. "Wine is such great medicinal liquid."
Doctor Pearce looked up from his patient and explained "My Dear Lady, while I agree with you, the wine is for me. A wound this size will take lots of patience. The wine restores my nerves."
Her nose may have wrinkled up a bit, but who is she to judge? As long as her husband gets well she'll regale the doctor to cases of it.
Doctor Pearce's assistant poured an opiate anesthetic into Charles's mouth. Once the water, rags, and wine were brought the doctor got to work. His nurse, who is also his daughter Mrs. Nevitt, ushered Mary out of the room.
Thus began the long hours of waiting. At first, she paced back and forth along the floor of the vast expanse of the sitting room. She would sit and then get up and pace. That cycle repeated over and over. Her mind is wracked with worry and her hands shake a bit. If Charles doesn't make it, then she will just die herself. She cannot picture a future without him in it.
Joan suggested, "Why don't we pray Lady Mary? Prayer always helps things. God is always listening."
Yes. That is true. So, right where they are the two of them knelt in prayer. They prayed silent prayers and spoken prayers with tears, but the point is they prayed. Then Joan reminded her "Now that we've prayed about it we need to trust the Lord to take care of it. So try not to worry My Lady, don't take this burden back on you. Instead, let's read out loud. You were reading to me the other day from the book of poetry." She stood to get it and brought it to the Duchess.
Agreeing with her companion, Mary opened the bookmark and began to read. Although her thoughts turned to Charles because he pokes fun at the poems. Nonetheless, she read. "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love by Christopher Marlowe— Come live with me and be my love. And we will all the pleasures prove. That hills and valleys, dale and field, And all the craggy mountains yield."
And she read, and read, and read. Taking a sip of water, to lubricate her throat, she flipped the page. "A Song To Celia (Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes) by Ben Johnson— Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in a cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise, Doth ask a drink divine."
It was then the nurse entered the room. Mary clutched the book in her hands close to her chest. Mrs. Nevitt bade her follow. Lady Enid, who has been sitting in the room with her and Joan, took the book from Her Ladyship's hands. She really needs strength and isn't sure she has any of her own to spare at the moment. Mary held her hand out to Joan, who took it. The two of them walked behind the nurse. She offered up silent prayers as they went.
Once in the room, now lighted by only the glow of the fireplace, Dr. Pearce spoke "While the wound was deep, it did not hit any major organs. Had the weapon been a little further over, or a little deeper, then severe damage would have been done. But let's not speak of that. I stopped the bleeding and cleaned the wound with wine and turpentine (a known healing agent) before I sewed him up."
He paused his attentions on his patient and looked at Her Highness. "Now this is important. I am leaving you a bottle of turpentine. The wound needs to be cleaned, redressed, and doctored with the turpentine twice a day. Under no circumstances is your husband to leave the bed. He is to be abed for at least four weeks. He may sit up at week three. It will take about eight for him to fully recover. Traveling is out of the question, as is any strenuous activity."
Mary let out a breath. "We were supposed to travel back to Suffolk at the end of the month. Obviously, that will be delayed as will the two major events we have planned. Is there anything else I should know? And will you be coming back to check on him?"
The diligent doctor told her "I am leaving Edmund, my apprentice, with you tonight and tomorrow. Those are the most critical times. If His Highness makes it past the two-day mark, then we can breathe easier. What Edmund is watching out for are signs of infection or fever. So far so good. Your husband is a strong, strapping man of good courage. I feel he will make a full recovery."
Mary forced a smile to her face before exhaustion sat in. Doctor Pearce made her sit in a chair. "You, My Lady, should be sitting or lying down. Try not to worry. It's not good for the babe. How are you? Any sickness?"
She told him no. "I've only been really hungry for sweets." In fact, she could go for custard or crepes with sugar and jam.
Smiling, the wise older man conveyed "That is normal. However, you need to be eating lots of vegetables. They are good for you and the babe."
With a huff, Mary made known "You sound like my husband. He's taken to adding greens on the menu."
The doctor gave a hearty laugh and expressed how pleased he is for that. Then he checked the bandage on his patient, spoke with Edmund, and bid Her Ladyship a good night. Although she doesn't know how good it could be with Charles lying unconscious in bed. Once Edmund walked the doctor out, she stroked her husband's hair and held his hand. Then she got up and readied herself for a long night of keeping watch over him.
Charles had made it through without any signs of infection or fever. By mid-day, the next day, while Mary was reading aloud from the book of poetry, he woke up. With a raspy voice, he cut her off mid-sentence or line rather. "Woman, must you torment me with rubbish while unconscious?"
The book dropped from her fingers. She rushed to the bed and laid her head on his shoulder. All the tears she had been holding in rushed out. His hand stroked her hair. "Darling, I'm alright." He tried to get her to calm down with soft "Shhs" and sweet words. "Mary, look at me."
Whimpering, she sat up and informed him "I have been looking at you ever since you were carried into the house unconscious and bleeding." She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
He winced, but not from pain. He could only imagine what it must have been like for her seeing him that way. Holding his arms out, he encouraged her to come lie next to him. She did, but in a careful manner so as to not disturb the wound. Once his sweetheart laid her head on his chest, he spoke two words. "I'm alive."
His fingers rubbed through her back and helped quiet her down. When he could feel no more tears, he asked about his prognosis. She explained what the doctor said. When she told him he couldn't travel until full recovery, he asked how long that was. He made a face at eight weeks and ran a hand through his hair. Upon asking how long he has to lie in bed, she reported three weeks possibly four. She saw his eyebrow raise and a knowing look appear on his face. "No. There will be no strenuous activity for you. So none of what you're thinking will be happening."
"Oh damn," he cursed. Putting his arm over his eyes, he tried to not let his frustration leak out of them. An active man by nature, the next four weeks are going to be nothing short of torture. Most especially since strenuous activity with his wife is forbidden. And his wife will follow the doctor's orders to the letter because she is a total rule follower. If there's one thing he wishes she had gotten from her father, it's his penchant to bend and break the rules.
The first week of bed rest was fine. He needed it as did his body to recuperate. The second week he grew testy and tired of lying down. After one of his guards helped to move him to the master bedroom, he made this known to Mary. "I want to sit up," he told her.
"No. Doctor Pearce forbid it until at least week three. So lay down like a good boy," she told him. Duke, who was in the room by her feet, heard her words and obeyed instantly. She peered at the pup and chuckled. "Not you silly boy." She bent over and picked him up. "If my dog can be obedient then why can't you?"
He eyed the dog with his cute ears sticking up and tail wagging. "You, you show off. Just had to get me in trouble." Duke barked and stuck out his tongue. The creature mocks him.
By the third week, Charles was fed up. "I want to get out of this bed!" He threw the covers off and acted as if he were going to get up.
Mary rushed to him and pushed him back down with her hand on his shoulder. Still weak, he reclined on the pillows. "Charles Brandon if you don't stay in this bed I will call the men to finish you off." Between him and her hormones, she is exhausted. Tears ran down her face.
Taking his wife in, he noticed she looks pale and very fatigued. It's obvious she's been taking more care of him than of herself, even though she's pregnant. He relented on getting out of bed, for her sake. He bid her to "Come here." She did and laid her head on her pillow. "Have you been eating and sleeping?"
"Not like I should. But I've been so worried about you. I haven't had time to think about anything else." She saw the look of disapproval cross his face. "Well, you try taking care of everything plus a sick husband and see how much you sleep or eat." Without thinking she poked him in the middle of the sternum. A groan left him. Her voice squeaked out "Oh! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Do you hurt? Can I get you anything?"
The hint of pain subsided. He remarked "Yes. You can take care of yourself. That's what you can do for me. Because if you aren't taking care of yourself, then the baby won't be well either. So, what have you been doing besides tending to me and not yourself?"
She began to tell of all the things she has been up to. "Taking care of home and governance matters. Plus I had to reschedule the ball and correspond with Dot and Lady Ashdown. Since we won't be home for the craft fair, they have to know all the details. I also responded to my father who requested your presence in London, some matter regarding Sir Thomas More. I told him you are detained due to a severe life-threatening injury. I even had Doctor Pearce add a doctor's missive."
He groaned a little. Of course, Henry would demand he return. Thank God he cannot leave the bed. But the mention of Sir Thomas made him pause. What does she know about the man in question? "Mary, what did your father have to say about Sir Thomas?"
"Not much. He mainly said he needed you there to help him with the matter. Why do you ask? Should I know something?" she wondered out loud. Seeing how her husband paused, she can't help but feel she's going to be angry at her father even more.
A debate raged within him. His hands held the comforter tight. Does he tell her or not? The risk of not letting her know the truth far outweighs the one of telling her outright. "Help me recline farther up please." She came closer and held onto him while he gingerly hoisted himself up to the paneled headboard. He held out his hand and she took it. "What I'm telling you is for your ears only and even you probably shouldn't know this. So don't do anything to get yourself in trouble."
She nodded. Then he proceeded to explain what is happening in England surrounding Sir Thomas. He told her about the Act of Supremacy and how every male citizen is required to give oath swearing that the King is the head of the church, his marriage to The Whore is lawful and right, and the only heirs to the throne would be his with Anne. He made clear how Sir Thomas did not attend the coronation and he shared with her correspondence from the King subsequently since being in Wales.
"Your father knows More will refuse to sign the oath. The last letter I received from His Majesty spoke of how he plans to bring the man before the commission panel at Lambeth. He's looking towards the end of the year to do so. With the letter sent me, I fear that's what will happen in truth." He grew quiet letting her digest what was said.
Oh, she digested it alright. It's so chewed up that she's ready to vomit it up along with many choice words. She knew her father to be cruel but to be this cold-hearted and wicked leaves her chilled to the bones. There are things she wonders about. "Has he lost leave of his senses, my father, the King?"
Charles chuckled at her choice of words. "Between us, I think he has. He's become obsessed with an heir and his heart has been turned away from right and just thinking by the devil woman."
An heir. It all comes back to a male issue. A boy. And because she's not a boy she's a bastard. He's getting people to sign to it, saying as much. Which also makes her think about "Did you sign the oath?" She turned her head to have her eyes bore into his.
Staring at her, he noted the flash of pain in those pools before it went away. "Your father sent me a letter with his official seal. Inside was the oath. I read it with disgust and frustration. I thought long and hard about it. I even let it sit on my desk for a few days. But then I reached a decision. I signed my name and sent it back."
Before she could do anything, he grabbed her hands. "I didn't sign for the King. I signed my name for you. I realize that's ironic considering I literally declared you to be a bastard. But if I had not my head or fortune, or future would be on the line. I cannot risk any of those because it would leave you in a poor position. My name is just ink on paper. It means nothing, except getting your father off my back."
He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed them. "You are not a bastard. I've told you that before. You're more than a title. So you're not an heir to the throne of England anymore. You're my wife, my love, my best friend, and the mother of my child. I just hope you can understand my reasoning."
Had she not learned her own royal grandmother was declared illegitimate, she might have been more prickly and hurt. However, "I know you and I know your heart. I know you would never do anything without being well thought out. I don't care about the throne anymore because I'm right where I need to be. I'm here in this humongous house in Wales taking care of you. I just feel really sad for Sir Thomas and his family. He's a good, loyal, faith-filled man who doesn't deserve this kind of brutish treatment."
Agreeing he pulled her to him. His strength is returning so much that he asked "Do you think we can engage in some afternoon activity?"
She knows exactly what he means. "No. Doctor Pearce forbids it for a while longer. But since you're in the mood for romance, I will read to you from the book of poetry." This time he really groaned loudly while her fingers reached for the book on her nightstand.
Opening the book, she stated, "Now let's see, we left off in the middle of Sonnet 3 by Francesco Petrarca— Love found me all disarmed and saw the way was clear to reach my heart down through the eyes, which have become the halls and doors of tears."
"Oh! I'm in pain! Make it stop. I beg you, My Lady, put me out of my misery," he pleaded with his hands over his ears in dramatic fashion. She glared at him and continued to read. Even though he jokes, he'll gladly listen to her read poetry for a hundred lifetimes. It beats the alternative, which is not having her at all. So he settled in, drawing the covers up, and let her peaceful voice wash over him.