Bessie wished and hoped with all her heart that Edward would come after her as she walked away from the dancing couples. But alas, he did not, and she knew he could not, for it would have caused such a scene and scandal that may have even eclipsed the relationship between the King and Anne.
She tried with all her might to push past the crowd of courtiers; singing, dancing, and drunken chatter rang through her ears, and envy and jealousy coursed through her as the images of Edward and Anne Stanhope flashed through her mind. Her desire to leave grew tenfold, but the crowd almost seemed unmovable.
She had hardly made it past any courtiers and was still at the fringes of the floor of dancing couples when a steel grip suddenly clenched her arm.
"Is something the matter, daughter?" Bessie's father, the Duke of Norfolk, asked snidely. "Are you trying to purposely disgrace us by making a scene?"
Norfolk surveyed the room as if purposely trying to find the cause of Bessie's distress. Indeed, his eyes landed upon Edward and Anne Stanhope, and an expression of dark glee graced his countenance.
"Ah, I see," he said, and cruelly turned her to face the dancing pair. Other courtiers seemed oblivious to the scene between father and daughter.
Bessie tried to pull her arm from his grip as she watched her lover and another woman in a close environment, but Norfolk held strong.
"Young Seymour has finally found a more suitable match, one that better befits his station. Had you not heard, Elizabeth? It is becoming widely known that Anne Stanhope is to become his betrothed in the next few months," Norfolk said quietly in her ear.
"Please may I be excused, Father?" she replied neutrally, though on the inside she felt her heart aching.
He still would not relent.
"Perhaps you should go and offer your congratulations, Elizabeth?"
It was at that moment that Bessie knew she could no longer endure the constant torment and cruelty from her father. Thus, for the first time in her twenty-four years of life, Bessie Howard defied the Duke of Norfolk.
She wrenched her arm out of his grip and raised her eyes to his in a confident glare.
"No," she said. "If you wish to humiliate me, Lord Father, it will work no longer. Now, I am leaving, and if you do not want to cause a scene, you will tell people that I have a megrim and that I have had to retire."
And with that, she pushed past him and left the great hall, but not before witnessing the shocked expression that had arisen upon her father's face.
She knew a few onlookers had heard her conversation, and that her name would soon be on the lips of the gossip-hungry courtiers, but she was hurt, and standing up to her cruel father had left her with a temporary sense of freedom, albeit small.
She held the skirts of her gown as she rushed down the corridor to the gardens of the palace. Luckily it was deserted, for everyone was of course celebrating in the great hall.
She found a stone bench under the cover of an oak tree. The only light around her was that of the bright winter moon. She turned her face up to look at the stars and finally let the tears fall freely down her cheeks.
She felt stupid and overwhelmed by emotion. Was he going to be betrothed? Why had he not told her? After all they had spoken about and promised each other?
"Bessie? Are you well?" a voice suddenly rang out in the quiet darkness behind her. In her haste to the garden, and amidst the onset of her emotion, she had not registered that someone had followed her outside.
She tried to quickly brush away her tears with her hands.
Sir Thomas Wyatt tentatively approached her side, his silhouette and kind face clearly lit in the light of the moon. She had not seen him for a long time, for he had been sent to Calais by the King on business and had only just returned.
He sat down next to her, and upon seeing her tear-streaked face, his eyebrows drew together in deep concern and he grabbed her hand.
"Please go, Tom. I know you mean well, but it may be best if I am left alone for a while," she said quietly.
She felt a fresh tear trail slowly down her face.
Tom slowly reached out with his free hand and turned her face to meet his gaze. She was surprised at the tenderness that she saw in his expression.
He carefully brushed the tear away.
"How is it that despite all these tears, you are still the most beautiful woman that I have ever laid my eyes on?"
She laughed sadly through her tears and tried to smile at him.
"I am certain that is not true."
"It is," he said confidently, as his soft brown eyes studied her face. "And you know full well that if I was not locked in matrimony with an unfaithful wife, I would have appealed for your hand in marriage a long time ago."
Surprise flitted across her face, as she searched his face for any signs that he was not serious. There were none. She knew that he loved to flirt with her, and that he was a romantic, but she had not realised the extent of his affection.
"Tom," she began, "I do not know what to say, I-"
But her words trailed off as he slowly leaned closer as if to kiss her.
She moved back slightly from his advances and looked down at her lap. "Tom, I cannot, you are married, and I think I am in love with-"
"Sir Edward?"
Bessie's eyes shot up to look at Thomas in surprise. But he was no longer looking at her. Instead, his eyes were on Edward Seymour, who was standing at the entrance to the garden. He looked furious; his eyes were stormy, and his hand was tightly gripping the sword latched to his belt.
Before Bessie or Thomas could speak again, however, he stalked briskly away back to the palace.
…..
Hampton Court Palace (Late December, 1530)
Bessie's twenty-fifth birthday came and went amid a difficult few weeks at court. She seemed to see Edward more than ever around the palace, though he seemed to force himself not to look at her, and the rumours of his imminent betrothal to Anne Stanhope were gaining traction amongst the gossips. The worst part of it all was that Bessie had not been able to meet Edward alone in their secret room for three weeks.
It was only a day ago when a note had finally been slipped to her by Tom, Edward's messenger.
As Bessie made her way to the old clerk's room, she mulled over and rehearsed what she was going to say to Edward in her mind. She was uncertain how he would react to her, for he had looked like he was going to throttle Sir Thomas Wyatt the last time he had looked at her.
Before she knew it, Bessie came face to face with the old wooden door of the clerk's room, and she knocked on the door in their secret pattern.
Tom smiled at her as he admitted her into the room, but quickly left, leaving her and Edward in an uncomfortable silence.
The air was thick with tension, but it was Bessie who spoke first as she met his grey eyes.
"So, is it true you are to be betrothed? Should my congratulations be in order?"
She sounded more confident than she felt.
"I do not wish it, nor is it my doing, anything you may have heard has been organised by my father," he replied carefully.
"And your closeness to Lady Stanhope?"
A look of incredulity crossed his face. "You think I am close to her? When you have seen us together it is only out of politeness and duty," he said. "You know what you mean to me, Bess."
He moved to take her in his arms, but she stood strong, and moved to the small, dusty window in the corner of the room, her back to him.
"I cannot completely give my heart to you, Edward, if you are to be with another," she said quietly, "It would hurt me too much."
They were both silent for a moment as Bessie's words were registered.
"Are we not to discuss Thomas Wyatt at all, then? How you were alone in the garden together, and how he tried to kiss you?" Edward replied angrily.
She whipped around to face him. His eyes softened slightly as he took in the hurt written upon her face.
"He is a friend who was comforting me, Edward. I was truly unaware of the extent of his feelings, and I declined his advances!"
"How could you not see the way that he looks at you? When I told you that you were mine, Bess, I meant it!"
"He is married! And it looks like you will be too in a matter of months!"
Bessie tried to stalk towards the door, but he stood in her path.
"Lady Stanhope is nothing to me," Edward murmured, before he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into a passionate kiss. His lips worked aggressively against her own. At first she tried to pull away, but he kept hold of her head and waist tightly, and she soon melted into his familiar touch.
They finally drew away from each other, and he rested his forehead against her own.
"Bess, I promise with all my power I will try to halt this betrothal. Lady Stanhope is truly nothing to me," Edward said quietly, as his hand moved to cup her cheek. He then pulled her into a close embrace.
"I do not wish to lose you again," she heard him say quietly against her hair.
He sounded sincere, but whether he could stop the betrothal, she was uncertain.
Nothing seemed to matter anymore, however, when his lips captured hers once again, and she lost herself to the moment.
A/N- I am back! Apologies for the massive delay in completing this next chapter, life has been very hectic. Hope you all enjoy this chapter about your favourite toxic couple, and hopefully the next chapter will be up much sooner