The worst part of life is waiting. Waiting for her father to wake up. Waiting for this baby to come. Waiting to return home. And now Mary waited and waited for her husband to appear. It is bedtime and he still hasn't returned. "Where can he be?" she wondered out loud. She pulled at her hair as she thought back to her conversation with Tony and Will. Both of the men had reassured her that he'll be back soon. Well, that was a few hours ago. They had said those words then and in spite of that, he isn't back yet.
In fact, when she finally did go to bed Charles hadn't come home. Horrible thoughts of him laying mangled somewhere entered her mind, along with thoughts of him being drunk and doing things he shouldn't. Even as she woke the next morning, and stretched her hand out, his side of the bed is cold. Although, it does appear to have been slept on as the covers on his side are messed up.
"Where the heck is he? What has gotten into him?" She muttered this to herself as she got out of bed and started to dress. Once Joan had readied her for the day, and she had just sat down to breakfast, Secretary Cromwell paid their apartment a visit.
The arrogant man eyed the room and Mary with much curiosity. "Where is His Highness? The new Prince should be here too," he stated. Looking around the room for signs of Charles, he found none. He only saw a glass of wine that has not been drunk.
But Mary, on the other hand, was seriously confused at the man's words. "The new Prince? Sir Cromwell, what are you talking about?"
For two days in a row, the pontifical man stared at her like she is mental. "Your husband, of course. Where is he?"
In order to not seem stupid, or unknowing, she simply stated "He's indisposed at the moment. But I'll be sure to pass along any messages."
Seeming put upon, the charmless secretary sat down in a chair. "Alright then. Let's get on with it. As you know you are the heir apparent. Your title of Princess has been restored. You are Princess Mary of Wales and Suffolk. Your husband is known as Prince Charles of Wales and Suffolk. You are both still addressed as His, and Her, Royal Highness."
He paused to take something out of a folder, which is good because it allowed Mary to process what had been said. In his hand, he produced a formal document. The secretary read from it. "In any eventuality that the King passes away, you will be known as Queen and your husband known as Prince Consort. Your father wants you to know that in the case of any male sons born to him, you will be moved in the line of succession behind the male heir. You do understand all of this correct?"
Of course, she does. She isn't a ninny. "Yes I do and I accept it as well." Truly she wishes this grumpy man to be gone from her presence.
Cromwell nodded his agreement. "Alright then. All of this is written, signed, and sealed in the official record book as well as in the court documents. They have been filed weeks ago. Your father is awake and wishes to see you before you depart today. I will take my leave. I wish you well Princess." He stood up, bowed, collected his things, and left.
Breakfast momentarily forgotten, she began pacing just as she did the day before. Her mind turned over all of the new information she was just notified of. Her father fully restored her title as Princess and also made Charles a Prince, and technically a Prince Consort. And naturally, she realizes her place is behind any male heirs. She does not begrudge that, but it does rankle her feathers somewhat. However, the thing that has her underpinnings all bunched up is the fact that her husband is now a Prince. That she did not know, just like she doesn't know where the absent man has gotten off to.
The Princess tried to not worry, really she did. She reminded herself to breathe for the new baby's sake. All of these things are out of her control. Her husband is out of her control. So she tried going on with the day, playing with the kids, eating, talking with Dot, overseeing the packing, eating some more, and through it all she wore a smile on her face. But as time drew nearer and nearer to depart the palace, the worry seemed to want to browbeat her into submission.
And then it was time to meet with her father. Her stomach tied itself in knots for both this visit and her missing husband. Oh, God! What does she say to her father? Truly she hasn't had a real conversation with the man in ages. Everything said while she wasn't in her right mind does not count. She smoothed out the fabric of the skirt of her gown. It's soothing when she does so. Her tired feet carried her all the way to the Royal Rooms.
Upon being announced, she entered his chambers and curtsied a perfect curtsy. Her father's strained voice spoke her name. She hadn't heard him say it in so long she almost forgot he knew it. "Mary," he uttered and beckoned her to his side. Her eyes notice he's surrounded by a sea of pillows. His legs are propped up on them and his left arm is bandaged. He looks bruised too. Her father doesn't look like a stately king, just a badly beaten-down man.
She walked nearer to him and sat in an armchair, which had been vacated by his wife. Jane had left the room in order to give them space. Without having thought her words through, they just spilled out of her mouth like vomit- word vomit. "I hope you are very happy in your new marriage. I'm sure much happiness will follow you." Gag! She spoke of his happiness, same as everyone else. How incredibly false of her, for she wants to heave every time someone mentions the word in relation to her father.
The King wore a soft smile. His weak voice tried again. "Mary, my daughter." He was interrupted by the guards, who let Charles in.
Upon inspection, she notices he looks unkempt and tired. His appearance does not explain where he has been, nor does it lend any clues. He pulled a chair over to sit beside her. For the sake of peace, she put on a smile.
After sipping some water, Henry told them "Good. You're both present. Before you leave London, I want to thank you for being here in my time of need. I also wanted to shed light on why I have declared you a Prince. This whole event has made me understand death can happen at any moment, and one needs to be prepared for the likelihood of it." He paused and looked off in the distance as if thinking about something important.
That was wrong because the only thing he's thinking of is the one thing he always thinks of. "I do not have a male heir yet, but I do have a daughter. Charles, I need you to be able to rule with her. It is important you do so. Even though Mary could make you a Prince herself, I think it would sound more official coming from me. I had thought of this weeks ago, when I filed the official paperwork, but only recently did something about it."
Then he changed subjects entirely and asked about the finances of Wales. Charles told him Wales is turning profits the same as Suffolk is doing. The King is pleased at hearing this. Before he dismissed them, he let them know "I'm glad I got to spend time with my grandsons the other day. They're growing so much. I had fun taking them for a walk around the palace. I was even glad to visit with Elizabeth, in the children's chambers of course. I can't be seen with her, you know, as her mother was just executed for her adulterous affairs. I also hope to spend time with the new baby once it's born too."
The King gave them soft smiles and asked them to fetch the doctor, for he needs something for pain. They left shortly after that and collected the remaining items from their quarters. After which the Prince and Princess departed for Wales. Charles tried to make conversation on the journey, but Mary ignored him. She either knitted or talked to Owen and William. Elizabeth wanted to ride with Lady Agnes and Dot. So for over three hours, they did not speak. Which is a really long time to stew in frustration.
Arriving at home, the servants took the trunks up to the appropriate rooms. The children were fed and whisked off to their rooms to play before bed. Charles retreated to his study and Mary went to the music room, where she sat on the sofa and read. Finally, His Royal Highness tried once more to speak to his wife.
He entered the room with much unease and uncertainty, as evidenced by his fiddling with the frilly collar of his shirt. It felt tight on his neck. Sitting down beside her, he asked "Mary will you now speak with me?" Her eyes only blinked, unexpressive, as if unconcerned. He continued on regardless. "Well, I want to speak with you. I want to explain my behavior."
Sitting up straighter, she articulated to him "Oh I definitely want you to explain your behavior. Running off, not telling me where you've gone— you've got a lot of explaining to do."
Swallowing thickly, he pulled at the shirt collar again. The room suddenly grew hot, so he took his doublet off and unbuttoned the top several buttons of his shirt. Feeling better, he set out to explain himself. "I was out horse riding, last night and this morning. I needed to clear my head. Being made a Prince is transformative, it's overwhelming. I still can't quite comprehend its magnitude."
He started rolling up his sleeves, as he thought about how to phrase his words. "You see, I'm a nobody Mary. I'm just the son of the King's standard-bearer. I don't have royal blood. I'm barely a Duke, and that's only because your father made me one. And now I'm a Prince." He hung his head.
She understands this, but he should have told her. Instead, she said nothing and waited for him to carry on, which he did. "When I married your aunt, I didn't think anything about her title. She would never be Queen of England. But you... You could be and I would be ruling with you. I never thought about it until the King got injured. And when he woke, he had Cromwell bestow the title of Prince on me. I just froze and then I—"
"Ran away. That's what you did. It makes me sad," she remarked.
Taking her hand, he let her know "I'm not running away from you. I'm not leaving or deserting you. I'm not running away from my responsibilities either. I just needed to breathe and in doing so I came to some semblance of peace with being titled a Prince. I didn't go out drinking or doing anything else untoward, just riding to clear my mind."
She scooted closer to him, their knees are touching. In a show of affection and support, they held hands. She laced their fingers together. "You know you've been a Prince for far longer than this. When we married, in Spain, you are known as Infante Charles or rather Prince Charles. So you've already been a Prince for some time."
His eyes grew round. He had no idea about this. "An Infante in Spain? That's... That's wild." He ran his free hand through his hair.
Then she told him "If I ever truly do become Queen I'm making you King Consort. I want you to rule with me, but not as a Prince. I don't want to rule alone, nor do I want the sole responsibility of the whole kingdom all to myself. I want things to be as they are now, like how we rule together in Wales and Suffolk. It will be the first thing I do in parliament."
He cannot believe his ears and he does not want to think about her words. The title of Prince is disconcerting enough, but he really cannot think about being a King. That's a little too much at this moment in time. "Let me get used to the peerage of Prince before going and making me a King." They didn't discuss it anymore, opting instead to talk about the twin's birthday celebration. All the while Her Ladyship thought of how to help Charles see he's her equal. She's determined to find a way to do that.
The next day saw Mary and Dot take a trip to visit Lady Flora. Both girls feel like they have not seen their old friend in ages. The carriage stopped at the front door, and Mr. Harris met them. He saw them to the sunroom, where the Dowager Countess awaited them with tea, biscuits, and crumpets all set out.
Before anything was said, Lady Flora asked "Now do I address you as Duchess or as Princess? Which do you prefer?" She poured tea into each cup.
Mary grumbled. "Let's not talk about that. Instead, let's discuss my need for a new lady in wait. I really need to find someone before Dot leaves me. That way she can help train the new girl." She hugged her friend.
The Countess sniffed then rang her bell. Mr. Harris returned to the room in haste. "Harris bring me my navy book if you please." Once the man left, she addressed the situation. "Yes, you do have a problem. A noblewoman without a good lady in wait is as useful as a broken doorknob."
Mr. Harris came back into the room holding the navy parchment book. He handed it to Lady Flora, who put on her spectacles and began flipping pages. She landed on one. "If you're interested I have the names of several fine families in this book. They all have daughters who may be good ladies to you. They are of course Scottish, but the Scots are some of the finest people around. And they're all known in the Scottish peerage system, so no worries there."
Having sipped her tea, the Princess told her "I trust your opinion, Countess. Everything you touch turns to gold."
Looking over her spectacles, the Countess beamed. "My dear you flatter me. It is of course as it should be and will get you everywhere. Now let's see." Her finger glided down the page and stopped.
Her head raised and she spoke. "There is the Campbell family. They have a daughter around your age, Paisley. Her father is a Count and the girl has a reasonable head on her shoulders. She might suit you fine. The other lady I would choose for you is Violet Mitchell. She can be a bit headstrong, but another fine young lady. Her family is also a Count's family. If you are interested in either, I'll send a raven right away."
Mary consented to both girls and Lady Flora wrote the necessary letters. Her raven sent them straight away, and the three women waited for replies. They settled down to the tea, crumpets, and conversation. The Countess led the way by wanting to know about the King's new wife. "My sources tell me she is demure, but I wonder just how proper and decent she really is. To have been making goo-goo eyes at His Majesty, while the now beheaded Queen was his wife, is not so innocent at all. And how long before this chaste routine bores the King?"
Neither younger lady could object to anything the Countess said. Having dunked a biscuit in the tea, Mary shared her opinions. "Well it turned my stomach to know he had instantly moved on to his next target while dining on a swan, and the previous Queen not even dead a day. And then to hear everyone wishing him happiness made me mad. But the worst thing is I said it too when I entered his chambers yesterday." She shook her head in frustration with herself and bit her cookie.
With a pat on the Princess's hand, Lady Flora stated "It's OK Dear. We all have moments of folly. Just remember, never look like you disapprove. Your disapproval will get you nowhere in your father's eyes. Now the real problem here is training Lady Dot's replacement to take tea with us. Oh, I dread this. Must you leave us and get married? Can't you stay? We'll pay you even. I jest, but really it's not too far from the truth."
As this was said, two ravens lighted on the perch in the house. The Countess got up and retrieved the letters. When she sat, having put the spectacles on again, she read over each letter. "Well, Lady Violet is out of the question. She, too, is getting married soon. But Lady Paisley is available, and according to this, eager to be a lady in wait to Princess Mary. So, there you have it."
A sigh escaped Mary's mouth. "Alright. Let's accept her. The sooner she arrives, the sooner she can be trained under Dot's tutelage. I hope she will be what we expect." She rested her head on her friend's shoulder.
Nodding her agreement, Lady Flora picked up parchment and pen. "Very good. We hope a lot of things Mary. For example, I hope my daughter-in-law won't look like she's smelled something foul every time she sees me. But hope is a waking dream Dear. In truth, it hinders us from accepting reality. Even still, a thread of hope is a powerful thing. No one will ever be able to replace our Dot." She continued writing the letter, then sent it off with the raven.
Now all that's left to do is wait. Wait for the new lady in waiting. The irony is rich. Patience can be a bit bitter, but its fruit is sweet. Eventually, all of this waiting will pay off, at least Mary hopes it does.