Tired and sore, the Grand Duchess sat on the swing. She's worn out from trying to be stronger than she feels. A heart that is always giving, kind, and understanding also gets tired. She hasn't spoken to Charles either and maybe she should. Part of it is her own stubborn pride, but also not wanting her irritation to speak for her.
When she finally got to bed, after the ball, she rolled over and fell fast asleep. This morning she stayed in the bed, buried underneath the warmth of the covers, instead of rising early as is her usual routine. Everything the Earl of Hertford said is marinating around in her mind. It won't leave her alone.
The Duke did not stay in bed. He got up and tried to talk to her, but she didn't want to talk to him. He had asked her "Mary? Mary, are you just going to lie there and ignore me? Are you not going to even tell me what I've done to garner this treatment?"
So she said nothing, just laid there with eyes closed feigning to be asleep. With a sigh, he got up and began grabbing a pair of boots, a tunic, and breeches. Then he headed for the door. She could hear his feet step on the floor and also heard him pause. Before he left the room, his voice declared "When you're ready to talk I'll be around." The door closed after that.
To be honest she hasn't seen him since. This was over six hours ago. She hasn't wanted to see anyone really, not even Dot. Her mind is confused and whenever she's felt like this in the past, being outside has helped. So here she sits, in the breeze, swinging her worries away.
Except it's hard to swing worries away when they won't go away. No matter what she does, the same things plague her. Her father twists the knife once more. And she hates how she's still hoping, because if she didn't care she wouldn't feel this way.
The sound of heavy feet crunched on the grass. Bother! She wonders if it would be rude to yell out "Go away". The person with the heavy feet sat down beside her. She didn't have to turn her head to know who it is. The smell of sage, bergamot, and sandalwood drifted in the air and instantly alerted her.
The swing got heavier. Charles's silky voice sounded in her ears. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She stared straight ahead, with one hand on the arm of the swing and the other in her lap. "Nope."
Running a hand through his hair, he told her "Eventually you have to talk to me. I'm riding out to the borders with Tony and William. When we get back I want us to discuss this." The swing got lighter as he got up. He had been hoping she'd talk to him. "I was hoping you'd say goodbye at least, because of what happened last time." He looked at her face, blank and staring off in the distance. A sigh of annoyance left his mouth. His feet turned to leave.
As he walked away, she thought about the ambush. Turning her head to the right, in his direction, she yelled "Charles!" He stopped and turned around. Just to be clear, she can be tired and loving at the same time. "I love you." He nodded, smiled, and walked away again. This left her with nothing but time on her hands. She continued to swing and think.
In the meantime, the Duke saddled up his horse and rode out with his friends. They rode to Monmouthshire and inspected the new border. This is where he was attacked last time. The new border is secure and tall with guards placed strategically about.
It's here that Anthony asked "So you decided to screw the King, did you? Twins? And what if they're boys? What will you do then?"
Beyond caring about this issue, the Grand Duke of Suffolk and Wales declared "Then I'll raise two boys. Besides they would be his grandchildren. I don't care if we have boys or girls. I love my wife and want a family with her."
Anthony paced back and forth, shaking his head at the insolence of his friend. "You just had to fall in love with his daughter, didn't you? Of all the women in the world, it had to be the daughter of the King of England. The king who is now known for his wavering moods. I just hope Her Evil Highness has a boy to put out the flame of whatever you have. And I have to say if she doesn't then I worry more for her reaction than the King's," he stated.
Adding his own thoughts William shared, "True. There's no telling what she might do or what she's truly capable of. She might poison you with an apple or some nonsense like that."
Charles knew all of this already. Fixing a strap on the horse's bridle, he spoke. "It's not like I intentionally set out to fall in love with Mary. I didn't wake up one day and think Oh I know, I'll travel to Ludlow and see the princess. Then I'll fall in love with her, my friend's daughter— who just happens to be the king. No."
Patting his horse, he studied his friend. "She's everything to me and I did fall for her. The minute I laid eyes on her there was an attraction. It was so severe I couldn't ignore it even if I wanted to. Which I had every intention of doing. I thought at the very least she could get an annulment and marry within her station still. But once I started getting to know her I began to love her. I realized I couldn't ignore her, that's happened too much to her in her life already. In truth, my wife is the one I had been waiting for but never found." He leaned on his horse and let his thoughts wander to his wife, who is currently upset for some reason.
"Oh, God. That's romantic. The Princess locked away in her tall tower and the handsome Prince, or Duke, rescued her. They fell in love. That's the stuff that the bards sing about. I feel like I'm going to be hearing songs about the two of you soon. I wonder if they'd dare sing about it in court," William remarked. He's a sentimental romantic at heart.
Anthony shook his head. "Let's hope not. There will be enough trouble if Her Highness gives birth to two boys."
His Highness decided to tell them about the letter. "Last night, when I was in my office getting a letter, for one of the Lords of Wales, I noticed something. On my desk sits a fresh pile of mail. In the stack was a red and gold missive. The envelope held a crude drawing of a falcon crushing a large pomegranate and a small one. Only someone brazen would send that to me."
"Or someone messed up in the head or wanting to taunt you. It's obvious they're referring to the Queen and her family of vipers damaging your wife and possibly your babes. Since everyone knows the falcon represents the Boleyn's and the pomegranate represents your wife's Spanish lineage," Anthony noted. His blood chilled at the thought.
Charles agrees with that assessment. "Yes. I've reminded my wife's guards to be more diligent in light of this. Until I know who the spy is constant watchfulness and alertness are needed, especially in regards to my pregnant wife." Both his friends agreed. It's one of the reasons he asked them to come to the ball. He needs their opinion on security and other things.
Being unmarried, the two of them will stay in Wales for at least two months. That gives them time to plan and hopefully suss out the spy. The three of them rode further to the border, along Herefordshire before they turned around to go back home.
When they did reach the manor the three planned to go on a hunt the next day. They boarded their horses and retired to the house. Charles should wash the day off of him, but he would rather talk with Mary. Setting off to find her, he checked in downstairs first. Lady Dot told him he could find her upstairs.
He walked around upstairs on their side of the house and didn't find her. Then he took to looking on the other side of the house. Searching room by room, he finally found his wife in an oversized space with floor-to-ceiling windows playing the harpsichord. A melodious tune rang out in the air. He faintly remembers her saying she could play one.
Since she couldn't see him approaching, he walked to her with a stealthy quietness. The harpsichord is positioned facing a window overlooking the grounds. As her fingers gracefully capered around the instrument's keys, her head would raise to the window. He knew the song she was performing so he began to sing and took a seat next to her, on the bench.
A ghost of a smile fixed itself on her face, as her fingers stopped. He scooted himself close to her and covered her right hand with his own, bringing it up to his mouth for a kiss. Then he nuzzled his nose to the side of her neck and inhaled her calming scent of roses, vanilla, and something fruity that he still hasn't recognized. "Why did you stop?" he asked.
Her eyes looked down. "I'm not the greatest musician, My Lord." Her fingers touched each key but didn't play.
His jaw clenched in aggravation. "Are we back to this My Lord nonsense? I'm Charles. You're Mary. That's it. Or you're My Darling and I'm you're—" He didn't get to finish that thought because her hand went over his mouth, and a playful smile came over him.
Turning her head to him, she told him to "Hush! Someone might hear." Then she let her blue eyes bore into his own. "If I let go, do you promise not to say it out loud?" He nodded. Before she could remove her hand, he kissed her palm.
"I promise not to say it outright, but only if you tell me what's bothering you. What did the Earl of Hertford have to say? You haven't been acting like your normal self since the two of you danced and you're a little too closed off. If I've done something let me know, so I can try and fix it," he told her. If she doesn't share with him, then he's not sure what he can do.
She picked at a piece of lace on her sleeve. "He told me something I cannot get out of my mind. It's not you necessarily."
Of course, he did. He already knew this by her raw treatment of him. "What did he say? What's the terrible thing he told you about me? That I've had mistresses in the past? That I have questionable morals and character? I've always had good morals and character, I've just never used them until you." His eyes bore into her face.
Shaking her head and picking at the fabric of her skirt, she pointed out "I already know all of that. And there's nothing anyone could say to change my mind on you. But what he did tell me is how you won me from a card game. Is that true?" Her eyes stayed looking at her skirt.
Oh, that... How that little detail is now coming back to haunt him. But how in seven hells did Edward Seymour find out about it? "I need you to listen to what I say and I need you to look at me when I say it. I need there to be no miscommunication between us." Once she lifted her head and turned her eyes upon him, he asked "Are his words bothering you? Is your opinion of me lost?"
She didn't say anything, shook her head no, and diverted her eyes away and back to her skirt. He turned himself and straddled the bench they are sharing. Then he began to talk. "It's not what you think or some evil thing he's made it out to be. I did play cards with your father and I did beat him, to which I did win you." She winced and he could tell she was holding tears back. "I did not know you were the prize. If I had then I am not sure what I would have done. But I do know that if he had not given you to me, then he would have chosen some other man. And so I probably would have fought for you regardless."
Silence reigned in the room. He prayed she would look at him, but she didn't. Instead, he made it clear "I may have married you because the King wanted me to, but I wasn't commanded to love you. I love you for myself, of my own accord. Because I do love you, and not for anyone or anything. You have called me your true love. Well, you're also mine. My true love."
She threw her arms around him and he held her close. At this angle, the babies don't get in the way. Sometimes you need to discuss something, so as to not gain sympathy or help, but just to let its power over you die. "I'm nothing but a prize for a game of cards. I'll never be good enough for my father will I?" Not knowing how to answer that he stayed silent. "Maybe I wasn't born for happiness. Every time something good happens to me it's taken away by him. And I'm tired of being tired and sad because of him. They say it's a broken heart, but how can it be a broken heart when my whole body aches? And the thing is, I'll never be rid of him because he's the king."
In one way she's right. They will never be rid of the King. But in another way she's wrong. "You're wrong. We may always have the King in our lives, but we do not have to include your father in it. We don't have to invite him to holidays and we do not have to embrace him in our children's lives either. He's a poor example of a father and I'm ashamed to have not told him so, long before we wed." She had since released her grip on him. He held her hand.
Looking her in the eyes, he let her know "I also disagree with you on happiness. I think you were created for it, but like everything else, life gets in the way. You're a girl who thinks too much and I'm a man who's been in the dark for too long. You, My Darling, light up my darkness, and hopefully, I quiet your mind. You choose to see the world through your heart instead of through your eyes. There's nothing wrong with that except it weighs you down with things not meant for you to carry, and it steals your happiness." He stood and held out his hand. She took it and he led her to a sofa in the room, where they sat side-by-side.
Not letting go of her hand, lacing their fingers together, he bid her look at him once more. "I don't think you realize how you've changed my life. I don't think you realize how much I love you either. You mean more to me than any other person, any woman before ever has. You make me smile when I have no reason to. You make everything better by just being around you. I didn't know what love was until I met you. You're the only woman for me." He wiped a tear away with his thumb.
Holding his wife's face gently in his hands, the Duke continued to talk. "When I think about that card game and how I won you, which is the crudest way to put it. When I think about it, I don't think of it as a bad thing. For me, you see, I believe God knew I needed you. And that game was how He worked things out for me to have you. God gave me you, he only used your father to do so."
Her husband said the most beautiful thing. It changed the way she looked at being her father's prize and counted it as a blessing. Cause he's right. Her Duke calms her spirits and quiets her thoughts. "You're right. Thank you. I love you."
Before he kissed her he admitted to her "Until you all I knew was poor love. A love that was difficult, draining, unclear, and impure. The love I share with you is so vastly different. It's uplifting, peaceful, considerate, honest, and pure. I've never felt so calm and yet so on fire at the same time. I love you with a true love, a love that people can search a thousand years for and never find. I love you that much. You were meant to be with me. It just took a game of cards to get you here. So whatever you may hear about it, don't let it bother you."
She nodded her head. "I don't think we ever had to force love between us. We were drowning it from the moment we met. Whenever I see you sleeping peacefully beside me, sometimes I have to pinch myself that this is real. And I now I can thank God you won me in that game. Because without you I wouldn't have a home. You are my home, Charles."
His fingers wiped other tears away, from his own eyes and from hers. "And you're mine." Then they kissed and everything was back to the way it should be. Because in truth they both came out the winners of that card game. What was meant for evil, was actually meant for their good.