In the darkness, the Prince and Princess woke up early. While Joan helped Mary, Charles (who had already dressed) went downstairs to make sure the guards and the carriage are ready. Not giving a care about what she wears, Mary had Joan get a simple, flowing, printed dress out of the wardrobe. This is laughable because none of her dresses are just "simple". Even the silkened overcoat is not simple, as it has a similar printed design on the white fabric.
She wore her hair down and pocketed two handkerchiefs. That's another thing she likes about this dress, it has pockets. Having hired Lady Lillian as her personal dressmaker, she had long since asked the lady for pockets in most of her dresses. The twins are always giving her all manner of things to hold, and pockets are an essential luxury.
Once downstairs, she met her husband in the landing area. Lady Enid gave her a basket of breakfast, and other snacks, for the road. They were wished well and then they departed. The first part of the trip was quiet. There wasn't much Mary really wanted to say because she cries every time she thinks about her mother. But as they neared Kimbolton Castle, the more she started talking.
Mary wondered several things. "I hope we're not too late. I just... I have to be able to say goodbye. Although how do you let go of your mother? How do you let go and say goodbye to the woman who gave you life and raised you?"
With one arm holding his wife, and his right hand holding her hand, Charles responded. "I don't know. I wasn't able to see my mother like you're able to. My own mother died during childbirth. I remember her being pregnant with my sister. It was a hard labor that ended with both of them dead. I was, I think, seven perhaps. I cried a lot. My father grew depressed. He wasn't ever the same man as before."
"Oh, that's a very sad story," she told him. Snuggling into his embrace for the remainder of the trip, she thought about his mother. His story reminds her that she has a lot to be thankful for. At least she gets to say goodbye to her own. Many people, like Charles, don't get to say goodbye.
The sun started to rise and the nighttime went back to sleep. There is that moment, that one moment, in every dawn where the light floats. The sky is painted brilliant pinkish-blue hues. It's bathed in beauty and promise. It's as if God reached down and kissed the earth. A million different miracles have begun with this awakening of the day. Even though her mind is troubled, her heart felt better— hopeful even, renewed, warm.
Her eyes kept watching on the horizon. The sun came up fully, in all its shining glory. Kimbolton Castle appeared and it's situated, striking, on a large grassy plot. She's sure in Springtime it looks wonderful, for now, the grass is all browning. In fact, she can visualize it in her mind. As the carriage passed by an impressive, scenic lake, with the castle just behind it, Mary thought it pretty as a picture. She wishes they were here under better circumstances.
The closer to the entrance the carriage got, the tighter she held onto Charles's hand. When they stopped, he got out and went around to help her down. On the ground, her eyes took in the estate surrounding the castle. It's adequately maintained. As a lone footman came out to escort them inside, the sad reality started to take shape.
Her mother, one of the Queens of England, was sent here without any help. There's only one footman, a maid, a cook, and two ladies in waiting. She's basically living the same existence Mary had lived in Ludlow— banished without any support or aid. And it's really troubling. In fact, it makes her very angry at her father. How could he do this to a woman who was Queen, a woman who is still an Infanta of Spain? If anything made her sick it's his aiding it along with zero assistance.
The footman took them up the stairs and to the Dowager Queen's chambers. Before they entered, Charles reminded her "There's no telling what she will look like. Don't let that deter you. Be strong for her sake and the baby's sake." She nodded and they went inside.
The room is dark, the curtains are still drawn, and Catherine is laid on the bed coughing. A doctor is nearby with a listening instrument. Holding her husband's hand, they went further in. Her mother's dearest lady, Elizabeth Darrow, saw them first. She curtsied and called out to the once Queen, "The Princess and Prince of Wales is here to see you, My Lady."
With a strained voice, Catherine weakly spoke their names. She motioned for them to come nearer. Mary could see her mother is, in truth, very unwell. The dignified, regal lady looks feverish and worn down. Plus there are several handkerchiefs of coughed up blood, lying on the bed beside her. This turned the Princess's stomach and she tried not to cry, but couldn't help it.
Rushing to the bedside, she sat in a chair with her head laid down on the bed. Her mother's fingers stroked through her silky hair. Charles sat, with his emotions measured, in another chair close to his wife. His heart breaks for her, and for his mother-in-law. When Mary finally composed herself, she choked out the words "I love you, Mama."
The Dowager Queen put a soft smile on her face. Her breathing is much labored, as it's difficult for her. But somehow she spoke. She found the words to say to her daughter and son-in-law. "I love you too Maria and Charles. On the side table is a letter for you. You are my greatest treasure and I have loved you every day of my life." Her words were few, for a massive coughing fit returned.
Mary had to look away because the blood coughed up is a gruesome sight to behold. She knew it had to be hard to talk, with all that was going on inside her chest, so she begged her mother not to. Instead, she took her shoes off and lay on the bed with her head on her mother's side, holding her. Catherine's face turned toward her son-in-law and mouthed the words "Thank you". He nodded his head and gave her a sad smile.
And then almost an hour later the majestic, graceful once Queen of England passed away. It was as if she held on long enough to see her only child. Mary sobbed and wailed on her mother's neck. Charles had to carry her out of the room, so the doctor could attend to the Queen's body. He sat on a couch with her in an upstairs sitting room. Agonized tears left her trembling body. His own neck became wet, as did his doublet, but that didn't matter as much as his wife. With his face buried in her hair, his own tears leaked out.
They sat like that for a long time. Once she had calmed and her breathing was even, her sorrowful voice stated "I need to get my mother's personal items. I need the letter she wrote and I need to choose a gown for her burial." Charles told her those things could wait, but she disagreed with him.
He held her close to his side, as the footman let them back into the room. The first thing she did was choose a burial gown for her mother, while Charles retrieved the letter from the side table. In the wardrobe, Mary chose a stately satin dress of red with gold embroidery. Her fingers ran over the others. Some of these dresses have memories attached to them. For example, this navy blue satin one her mother wore when Mary was but a young child. She sat on her lap, listening to her Mama read and speak of the English-Spanish history. This purple she wore to a ball and Mary remembers thinking how she wanted to look pretty in a fancy dress, just like her mother- the Queen.
On and on the memories went. A woeful Lady Darrow interrupted her musings by instructing her to a trunk. "Pardon Your Highness, but your mother has been overseeing my packing of items into this trunk. They are things she thought you would like to have after she passed away. There are a lot of fine pieces inside it." The lady wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Mary nodded, then asked, "What will become of all of her dresses and things she didn't give me?"
Her mother's longtime lady in waiting told her that the Queen requested any remaining jewels be given to charity. The Princess approved of that. The dresses were to be likewise given to charity, unless "You want them, Your Highness." Mary told her that she does. She's not parting with these memories, even if they stay in storage. It's a part of her mother and she cannot let it go, at least right now. Lady Darrow took the dresses and packed them into another trunk, along with anything else Mary wanted.
Before it was time to go, Charles held his wife. He urged her to say a final goodbye and let her know "I'm right here with you. You won't have to do it alone."
She held his hand and walked to her mother's body once more. Picking up the cold limp hand, her fingers caressed it and her lips placed a kiss on it. Still holding her Mama's hand, she softly spoke "Now I understand why you always told me to be strong. You knew that one day I would need much strength to carry the weight of losing you." Tears ran down her cheeks again. No matter how prepared she thought she was for her mother's death, it still came as a shock. And it hurts so very deeply.
Charles gently drew her away from the bedside, but Mary looked back and broke free of his grip. She ran and placed a kiss on her mother's forehead, before gathering the courage needed to leave the room. Back in her husband's arms, her knees started to give way. But Charles was right there to pick her up and carry her out to the carriage, where she sat and waited for him. He oversaw the placement of the trunks. Just after he came to sit in the carriage, Lady Darrow drrew near.
"Princess, you were your mother's pride and joy. She loved you greatly, always remember that," the lady told her. This only made Mary cry even more, for she missed her mother very much.
When the carriage pulled off, it was a somber ride home. Charles kept thinking of what the King will do. Before all of the stillbirths and miscarriages, he truly loved her. But then he also kept Mary away from her, so what does that say of him? He kissed the side of his wife's head and held her in his arms. After a while, she cried herself to sleep.
Upon arriving at home, Charles didn't wake her up. He transported her all the way to their bedroom. Then he told the servants not to disturb them, except for trays of dinner. After laying her on the bed, he took her shoes off and did the same for himself. He crawled in behind her and draped his arm around her.
She had been awake for a while, she just wasn't in the mood to talk. She rolled over and engulfed herself in her husband's embrace. "I think I'm all cried out, but I'm still so very sad," she shared with him.
His hands stroked her back. He spoke with sincerity. "That's normal My Darling. You're going to be sad every time you think of her and that's OK. It's alright to be sad, but don't let it overcome you. Just remember to honor her by living."
After inhaling his comforting scent, she sat up with her back propped up on the pillows. "It's strange because we've been parted for many years. But I always knew she was here, always here if I truly needed her despite my father's rules. He would not deny me that, I don't think. Her presence was always spread over everything like the sky. And now it's gone. She's gone." She picked at a bead on her overcoat.
Charles sat up too. "But memories are forever. You have those with you always, and so you don't forget them you can always write them down." He helped her take the overcoat off.
"Charles, I think I would like to read my mother's letter. Would you get it? Would you read it to me?" Her eyes stared at him big with wonder and pleading.
Kissing her on the head, he got up and took the overcoat with him. He draped the coat on the back of a chair and took the note from his doublet pocket. Returning to the bed, he got on top of it and opened the letter. With his strong, masculine voice he read.
To My Dearest One— my beautiful daughter,
I don't think you could begin to realize how much I love you. I loved you from the time you grew in my womb, from your first breath to your precocious years as a child, and everything in between. I have loved you with the steadfast love a mother has and I have missed you terribly these past years.
Seeing you grow, into a young woman, as a mother, and as a wife, last Christmas did my spirits wonders. The boys, my grandchildren, are as handsome as their father. And I so wish I could see them grow up, along with any other children you will have. But I cannot, nor can I be there to guide you and offer you advice. However, I take comfort in knowing you are surrounded by women— good women, who can do just that.
Instead, I will leave you with this advice. Live with reckless abandon. Do everything with grace and integrity. If you have to lie or step out of your true character, even once, it's not worth it. Don't put yourself down for anyone or compare yourself to others. You are remarkable no matter what.
Allow yourself to be angry. Anger is better out than in. It's better to release your frustration than to let it live in your body and fester like an open wound— all for the sake of others to not be discomforted. That does no one any good, especially you. Tell the truth with care.
Remember to have empathy. You are the daughter of royalty, but you are not the center of the universe. Never shame people when they are already brought down low, or talk about them when they cannot hear. Contrary to your father's opinion, taking frank can be insulting. Choose your words wisely and honestly. Don't let others' opinions of you matter more than your own. Keep your head up.
Tether yourself to people and places and things that you love— truly love with all your heart. Love yourself enough to be brave in the pursuit of your dreams. And do have dreams. Take care of yourself for your children's sake. You are the model to whom they will look up to in life. You must be whole and full to wear that crown of motherhood.
Immerse yourself in life. Cling to God and what is good. I lived and died for you to be able to do so. And please give your father a little bit of love and forgiveness. He was your first love before you loved your husband. No, he was not always a good father, nor did he always show it. But then you have no idea the pressures of being a King. Despite this as quiet and well kept as it is, he loves you in his own way. Don't let him make you bitter or sour your spirits.
Finally, love your husband. Charles is a good man and he loves you so...
He had to stop. His voice grew weak and his eyes too moist to read. It feels weird reading his mother-in-law's words about himself. Mary held his hand and gave it a squeeze of support. So he continued on.
I remember Charles from so very long ago, always joyful and joking. He was always one of my favorite people of the court. There are many people who say men can't change. Your husband is proof that they are wrong. Real love can change even the hardest of hearts. It was planned since your birth that you would marry a Prince, someone equal to your station in life.
The irony is you are now married to a Prince and someone who isn't just equal to your station, but also equal to your person. Your husband is your equal in every way, most especially the ones that count. Hold his hand and walk through life together. Love together, laugh together, learn together, live together, and lean on each other together.
And to you Charles, my daughter is headstrong. Unfortunately, she gets that from both sides of the family. Be patient with her, she's a work in progress. You've lived longer than she has. Guide her and she will learn. As you've discovered she has a tender heart and a gentle soul. Protect her please and don't let life dull her sparkle.
Now I only have one final recommendation. Please do not mourn me and wear black for a whole year. That is unnecessary. There's enough sadness in life than having to wear a sad color for that lengthy period of time. Give me a month and if anyone questions you afterward, then show them this letter. I've always been one to march to a different beat of the drum. This is no less different.
All My Love,
Mama (Queen Catherine of Aragon)
The letter fluttered to his lap before he placed it on the side table. They both wept then, together. When they stopped, Mary held her husband's face in her hands. "See I told you, you are my equal. My mother saw it and she knew it. Now accept it," she told him.
With unshed tears in his eyes, he spoke. "It's hard to accept. But for you, I will." His tears fell and his chin trembled. She kissed him and they loved their sadness away, at least for that moment.
Over the course of the next few days, never-ending visitors and letters were received at Hapus house. They ranged from Ambassador Chapuys to high-ranking Duke's of the kingdom. Even Secretary Cromwell sent a gracious letter, wherein part of it he said "If not for her sex, she could have defied all the heroes of history." That embodies Catherine of Aragon. The people of Wales brought meals, flowers, and condolences. There was tremendous mourning all across the kingdom.
It was the King, however, that really set Mary's displeasure off. In his letter, he expressed his "great sorrow and sadness" for the loss of his first wife. He let the Prince and Princess know that he would spend only what is requisite or needful for Catherine's funeral. He also told them he was going to have her buried at Peterborough Abbey, not far from Kimbolton Castle, after her body was returned from the embalming process. It was also stated in the letter that he would not be in attendance at the funeral.
All of those things combined made Mary mad. Following her mother's advice, she took off outdoors to a wooded area and screamed as loudly as she could. It was only when she stopped yelling and crying that she noticed her husband had followed her. He gathered her into his arms for comfort. "I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!" she cried. He knows she doesn't, but did not say so. He's smart enough to keep silent.
At the funeral, it seemed the whole kingdom showed up. It was somber, yet uplifting. Mary could see her mother left a good mark on so many people. His Majesty had penned a few words to be read and it made Mary want to vomit. She only clutched Charles's hand tighter. Afterward, the couple shook hands with all of the gentries and returned home to Cardiff.
It was when she was sitting on the sofa in the library, wearing her black lace mourning dress reading a book, that a commotion was heard. Into the room came Charles, Anthony, and a few of the guards. They were all dressed in some sort of costume of tights and tunics, sword belts, and pointed hats with feathers. She stared at them with curious eyes.
"My Lady, it is I the gallant Robin Hood. We have come to save you from the evil Sheriff of Nottingham," stated Charles. He looked at her with a cheeky grin.
Then Anthony spoke. "Aye, Robing. We, his merry men, have heard you've been held against your will in these chambers."
At that moment William burst into the room looking very dastardly. His black cape got caught on the door, and he tripped but in a brilliant move recovered himself. Mary couldn't help but laugh at his antics, along with those of her husband and his men.
In a rough voice, William declared "There is no laughing in Nottingham. By order of Prince John, law number one hundred and three: No citizen shall laugh at any time unless they pay a fine. Now you must pay ten gold coins."
Charles, or Robin Hood, took his sword and pointed it at him. "Evil Sheriff you have no business here. This lovely lady is not to be bothered by the likes of you."
Their play continued and Mary loved it. It ended with a big fake brawl that left the men out of breath, and Anthony saying "I'm too old for this." Everyone laughed. When the only ones left in the room were Charles and Mary, he collapsed on the sofa beside her. She put his head in her lap and ran her fingers through his hair.
"My handsome Prince, thank you for cheering me up." She bent down, with a smile on her face, and pressed her lips to his for a kiss.
He beamed up at her. "I'm glad it did. A long time ago long before you were born, your father did this same thing for your mother. He was Robin Hood. Anthony, William, and I were his merry men. And I forget who, but we had a sheriff too. Your mother loved it and I thought it might make you happy for us to do something that brought her happiness as well."
Never did she know that. This new knowledge just makes it all the better. Little by little, each day, she let go of the loss but never of the love. Love lives on. The world is not the same, but it does get easier. Through memories, through the letter, through the eyes of her children, and through the deep affection of her husband, it became less painful. Her mother is a part of her and they'll meet again one day. Until then she'll follow her mother's other advice and live.