Bessie and Anne followed the Queen into the ballroom as part of her vast entourage of ladies. Every lady was wearing a mask to try and conceal their identity, apart from the Queen herself, who did not feel well enough to partake in the dancing. Soft music travelled around the room as multiple couples twirled around dancing, and the buzz of talking and excitement hung in the air.
Bessie knew she was easily recognisable, for her long, blonde curly hair cascaded down her back. She was wearing an emerald green dress, trimmed with gold edges, and a sparkling gold mask. Next to her, Anne was wearing a bold silver dress, complete with a silver mask. It made her dark hair stand out in stark contrast to her clothes, and her eyes flashed through the slits in her mask.
The King quickly made his way over to the Queen's ladies. This time, Anne could not evade his clutches, and he quickly asked her for her first dance. She could not refuse the King.
"If it pleases you, your Majesty," she replied to his request, betraying no emotion on her face.
He looked highly pleased that he managed to possess Anne in some way and withdrew to greet his wife.
"He looks mightily happy with himself," Bessie remarked to Anne, with a teasing smile on her face.
"It will be the last he talks to me all night," Anne replied.
"Excuse me, my ladies, could I ask Lady Bessie for her first dance of the evening?"
Bessie and Anne turned to the gentlemen who had just approached them. No other than Charles Brandon stood before them, the handsome rogue and notorious womaniser of Henry's court.
"Of course, my lord Duke," Bessie accepted gracefully.
He smirked, grabbing her hand to place a kiss on it, then left to talk to the King.
"Be careful with that man, Bess. He is dangerous," Anne warned.
"I know of his reputation."
The music stopped briefly, then, and the musicians started a new lively tune.
"You should be careful too Anne, you are playing a dangerous game with the King," Bessie said.
Anne simply smiled.
Henry and Charles then approached the women and offered their outstretched hands to lead the women to dance.
"You are a vision tonight Bessie," Charles complimented as her took her in his arms.
"Thank you, my lord," Bessie replied, as they started the intricate steps of the dance.
As they danced, Bessie glanced briefly around the ballroom.
Suddenly, it was as if time stopped for a moment.
It was as if there was an invisible string that always pulled them together, even in a crowded room.
For as Bessie danced, she locked eyes directly with Edward in the bustling throng of courtiers.
"Bessie?"
Charles' voice quickly snapped her out of the trance, as she realised that he had been talking to her.
"My apologies, my lord, I was miles away for a moment. What was your question?"
She looked up into his eyes as they danced. He was devilishly handsome, Bessie admitted to herself in her head.
"I asked if you wished to dance again later with me. I see you often round court, yet I never spend close time with you."
His proposal was loaded with meaning. She was well aware of his intention to flirt with her, preferably with her full attention upon him.
"I will, my lord, if another gentleman has not already claimed my hand for a dance," she replied, smiling teasingly.
He laughed. "Well, I will just make sure I am there first then, I do not lose often you see."
Bessie simply smiled and curtseyed as the dance ended.
"Excuse me, my lord, I am going to find a drink."
She made her way over to the drinks table. As she arrived, she saw Henry and Anne still dancing together. Anne almost looked bored, and Henry's undivided attention was purely upon her.
As Bessie took a sip of wine, she saw a tall figure making his way towards her.
He bowed as he stopped in front of her.
"Bessie," he greeted. "I thought that dance would never end."
Edward was also wearing a mask, a deep blue colour that complemented his blue doublet.
"Me too," Bessie agreed, laughing and taking a sip of wine.
"Was he flattering you?" Edward asked, a hint of jealousy in his voice.
Bessie smirked. "I hope it was not pure flattery, for he called me a vision."
"He was not wrong," Edward reluctantly agreed. He paused a moment, in conflict with himself, then seemed to muster the courage to ask her a question. "Would you care to take a walk in the gardens with me?"
"Will I be safe without a chaperone?" Bessie teased, though inside her heart was singing. She was longing to be alone with him.
"As safe as you were last time we were alone," Edward replied smiling.
He offered his arm to her, which she took, and they tried to leave the ballroom as subtly as they could. Luckily, most eyes were upon the couple dancing in the centre of the room: King Henry and Anne Boleyn.
…
Bessie walked next to Edward; her hand tucked comfortably in the crook of his arm. They strolled around the garden, which was lit up in the darkness by the full moon and fireflies. The garden was beautiful, full of blooming flowers, with a pretty maze to the right of it.
"Shall we enter the maze?" Bessie asked, a mischievous grin on her face.
"If you wish to, it does look very private," Edward said.
"It is only small, and in the middle, there is a lovely bench, that is all," Bessie said, blushing.
He looked at her with an endearing glance and led her to the maze. A short while later, they sat on the secluded bench, comfortable now they were likely to avoid prying eyes. He had taken his mask off a while ago, but now she realised she was still wearing hers. She quickly unfastened it and placed it on the bench next to her.
They sat together quietly for a moment, as Bessie was looking up, admiring the clear, starry night sky.
"You are so breathtakingly beautiful."
She turned to Edward with a dazzling smile on her face. He was gazing intently at her, as if studying her features, and reached to tuck a loose curl behind her ear.
"When I first saw you in France two years ago, your beauty struck me straight away," he said, as he gently moved to cup her cheek with his hand. "But you are more to me than beauty."
"Oh?" Bessie teased and moved her hand to cup his own on her cheek.
"You are kind, intelligent, graceful and witty; qualities that I admire so deeply."
Bessie felt herself blush as he continued to look at her intently. She felt warm and fuzzy from his compliments.
"You flatter me, Edward," she said, withdrawing her hand, and looking down at her lap.
"No, I speak the truth."
They were now so close to each other that she could feel his warm breath upon her face. He looked down at her lips for a second, as if asking for an invitation. She moved even closer to him, and then suddenly their lips were moving in a passionate dance.
The kiss was not chaste, by any means, but she could tell it meant something to both of them. When King Francis had kissed her, it was lustful and forceful, as if had wanted to just possess her. This kiss was tender.
One of Edward's hands was on her cheek, and the other was holding her waist. He withdrew then, and looked at her for a moment, a flush on his face. She bit her lip and smiled at him, to which he could not seem to restrain himself to peck her lips again.
Bessie was breathless when he withdrew the second time.
"Bessie, I would love with all my heart to court you properly, but I am due on military service with the Duke of Suffolk in France in a couple of weeks," Edward seemed to blurt out, with a pained look on his face.
Bessie felt her heart drop. How could he kiss her and then tell her this news? She thought for a moment that she would be able to court someone whom she generally had affectionate feelings for.
She remembered, then, that she still did not know who Edward was. She was so caught up in spending precious time with him, after hardly seeing him at court, that she still had not even thought of asking his family name.
"Who are you, Edward?" she asked tentatively, searching his face for an answer.
Edward drew a breath. "My name is Edward Seymour. I am the eldest son of Sir John Seymour."
Bessie felt as if the world had stopped for a moment as she processed this information. This was only the third time she had spoken to Edward, but it felt as if she had known him forever. To hear he was a Seymour, the well-known rival to the Howard family, was a great shock. Her family would never let her court this man. Her father would disown her. And Anne. Oh god, what would Anne think of me gallivanting with a Seymour, she thought.
Yet, she realised then that she did not care what his name or title was. She held affection for Edward as a person, and why should his name define him? Why should she care what others thought?
"Bess? What is it? What is wrong?" Edward asked, now visibly worried at the clear range of emotion on her face.
"I-," she started, but could not find the words.
"I know I am just the son of a knight, but…," Edward started, but Bessie cut him off.
"I do not care what your name or title is, Edward," she said, reaching to take his hand. "But you will care who I am."
"Of course I will not," he said, squeezing her hand in reassurance.
Bessie composed herself and met his gaze. "My name is Lady Elizabeth Howard. I am the eldest daughter of the Duke of Norfolk."
She saw the range of emotions that crossed his face, probably mirroring what happened to her face when he told her of his identity. Shock, acceptance, confusion, anguish.
"I see," he said, releasing his hand from hers.
She looked down at her hands in her lap. "I know it will be challenging for us to court, but…," she started, then stopped herself, as she realised Edward had stood up and was not meeting her eyes.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I do not know if I can court a Howard, Bessie," he admitted, still not looking at her.
Bessie felt deflated. She was frustrated at her overbearing and proud family, but she was also angry at Edward. Surely it did not define her that much?
"So my beauty, wit, grace and kindness do not count for anything then? Or was all you just said to me an act?" she said with annoyance. She stood and walked a few paces away from him so that he would not see the tears forming in her eyes.
"No! You have all those attributes and more. I just know what your family is like, and I just could not become involved with the Howards in that way."
"I see. Well, I bid you goodnight, Master Seymour. This evening has been most enlightening for both of us," she said. She still did not face him as her tears started to fall, and she began to walk into the maze, clueless of what direction she was going in. She just needed to get away from him.
"Wait! Bess, I did not mean it in that way," he said, suddenly walking right behind her.
She rounded on him and saw him wince slightly as he saw her tear-stained face.
"Then what did you mean? That I am such an awful person purely because of my family name? That you could never stoop as low as courting a Howard?"
"No! I meant that this connection between us could never be successful, for our families would expressively forbid it! And I do not think I could have Norfolk as my father-in-law," he tried to explain, but Bessie turned and continued to walk away from him. She felt childish, but if he truly cared for her, he would not be quite so bothered about their families.
He suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him.
"Get off me!" she exclaimed, trying to free her arm from his grip. "I do not want anything to do with you!"
"We both know that is not true," he said, still holding her arm.
He suddenly leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, hard and passionately. She did not resist for a moment, as her body relaxed into his familiar touch. But then she quickly remembered their quarrel and pushed him away from her.
"You can come to me, Edward, when you can look past my family name. If you do not seek me out, I will accept that there can be nothing between us, " she said, her head held high, despite her emotions. "Goodnight."
She turned from him, and realised she was at the exit to the maze. She walked away from him, with tears falling down her face again, hoping to hear his footsteps or feel his hand on her arm. But as she walked closer and closer to the palace, she realised he was not coming after her this time.