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Face claim for Clarice de' Medici - Synnøve Karlsen.
Chapter One Hundred & Nineteen: King of Ireland.
10th of March 1542 - Saint-Germain-en-Laye, France
It was not the news that Cosimo de Medici had been expecting, he had been barely sixteen years old when he had become a father for the first time; her mother had been a village girl from Trebbio that Cosimo had spent time with. Bia de' Medici had been raised in the household of his mother, Maria Salviati, who had insisted on keeping the girl in her care while he was out of the country serving as a diplomat.
Cosimo had adored his daughter from the moment that she had been born, no expense had been spared in raising her as far as he was concerned; he had wanted the best for his only child. Bia had shared a nursery with Giulia de' Medici, the illegitimate daughter of Alessandro de' Medici, Duke of Florence, who was close to her in age and had been left orphaned following the death of her own father.
Sadly both Bia and her cousin Giulia contracted a fast-moving fever in February 1542, from which Giulia recovered but Bia did not. Cosimo had received almost daily reports of Bia's worsening condition from his mother, Maria Salviati; the child grew weaker between 25 February and 28 February and finally died on 1 March. Maria Salviati had written to him saying that Ippolito had instructed that the girl be buried in the Medici family crypt in San Lorenzo and that her funeral had been a grand affair.
Cosimo had wept at the news, wishing that he had left when she had first fallen ill so that he could have been there for her final moments; now he didn't even get to say goodbye. The music in the hall did little to lift his spirits, his eyes staring unseeing at the crowds as he sipped on his ale and pretended to be listening to the conversations around him.
"You seem lost in thought my lord," Jeanne of Navarre greeted coming to stand beside Cosimo, a smile on her face as she looked up at the man that she found herself spending more and more time with in recent months. The Duke of Cleves was across the room conversing with his sisters, having brought them to court recently to insert them into his future bride's household with the intent of them keeping an eye on her for him.
"My apologises princess… I received some upsetting news from home," Cosimo admitted forcing a smile to his face, it was a lovely evening and the last thing that he wished to do was burden her with his grief. Cosimo had never thought that this would happen, that he would bury one of his children at such a young age; Bia was everything to him, the only real family that he had for himself in the world that he wanted to protect.
"I am sorry to hear that," Jeanne murmured, she stepped forward and rested a hand on Cosimo's arm to comfort him; she moved closer to him, wishing that she could ease his pain. Cosimo was her only source of happiness, the one person at court that Jeanne actually liked to spend time with; if she had to pick a husband for herself, it would be him and she would cast the Duke of Cleves back to his own realm. Jeanne avoided spending time with the man that her father had chosen for her, even as the Duke of Cleves tried to enforce his own presence on her household.
"I shall pray for…" Jeanne started to say, her hand moving to rest upon Cosimo's arm and she stepped closer to him; she wished that she could take away the pain that he was feeling. In the months since Cosimo had come to her attention, Jeanne had found herself making excuses to see him; to catch his attention in anyway that she could, a part of her thrilled when he listened to her.
"My daughter Bia," Cosimo revealed, knowing that many would find the news upsetting that he had a child outside of wedlock; especially given that he had left her all the way back in Italy with his mother while he served at the Navarre court. The news didn't get the reaction that Cosimo was expecting from Jeanne, she searched his face for a moment before she nodded her head.
"Then I shall pray for Bia," Jeanne confirmed, her hand moving from his arm to take his hand in her own; she lingered for a moment, holding tightly to his hand before she had to make her leave. Jeanne ignored the disapproving look from her father as she made her way back to the high table, she cared not for his thoughts on such matters now.
18th of June 1542 - Palace of Whitehall, England
Allowing her ladies to dress her, Queen Anne couldn't hide her smile as she listened to the playful laughter of her children; her presence chamber was being used to dress the children for such an important occasion. The Crown of Ireland Act 1542 had passed that morning by the Parliament of Ireland, which created the title of "King of Ireland" for monarchs of England and their successors; previous monarchs had ruled Ireland as Lords of Ireland.
The first monarch to hold the title was King Henry VIII of England, meaning that Anne was now the first Queen Consort of Ireland and one day the title would pass to Alexander. The Prince of Wales had been brought back from Ludlow for the celebrations, Anne had barely recognised the ten year old when he had been presented to the court; it had been such a long time since she had seen him in person.
Alexander was the living image of his father, a perfect Tudor prince and Anne couldn't have been prouder of her eldest son; he would no doubt make a fine king one day. Dressed in green, the entire royal family would take part in the grand celebrations that Henry had insisted happen for the occasion; Anne had spared no expense, ensuring all the children had new outfits for the occasion.
Even Mary Fitzroy, Duchess of Richmond and her son Thomas had been invited to court, Anne ensuring that her widowed cousin was comfortable at court and insisting that Thomas should be in attendance for the celebrations. Thomas remained the only grandchild of King Henry that was in England, although there was continued news of Mary and Ippolito's ever expanding family with news of another pregnancy for the pair. Mary had given the King, four healthy grandchildren; a line that continued to expand and she wrote joyfully of her time in Florence.
"Mama," Princess Elizabeth called moving from the presence chamber, dressed in her new dress that had been carefully planned to compliment her Tudor colouring. Princess Elizabeth hurried across the room as Anne turned to greet her, Princess Beatrice following after her older sister eager to escape their younger brothers that were far too noisy for her liking.
"My heart," Anne said moving to hug her daughters, she counted her blessings with each day even if she wished that she had more time to spend with her children; her duties at court kept her busy especially with Henry's declining health. It was not something that Anne liked to dwell on, Henry's old jousting injury caused him no end of grief these days; his growing waist was hard to ignore as he indulged himself to ignore the pain that bothered him so.
"The King calls for you, Your Majesty," a voice spoke from the door, Anne pausing with slight dread at the thought of seeing her ill-tempered husband whose temper grew worse with each agony filled day. The Duchess of Bedford and Wiltshire stood at the door, dressed in a rich green dress that suited her well and Anne was so thankful for Clarice's support; her sister-in-law keeping a keen eye on the royal nursery when she was able.
Contessina and Filiberta stood by their mother's side, the eldest Boleyn girl was a common sight these days in Elizabeth's household as a constant companion for the older princess. While Filiberta had been installed in Beatrice's household in recent months, much like their younger brother William now served as a steady companion to Geoffrey. There was no doubt that Piccarda and John would one day find themselves companions in the royal nursery, following in the footsteps of their older siblings and preparing for their own future.
"I shall be but a moment," Anne said with a nod of her head, she stepped back to allow Lady Catherine Knollys to help her finish getting ready; her niece serving in her household again after the birth of her second child. Catherine had been married only two years earlier to Sir Francis Knollys who served as Treasurer of the Royal Household for the King; a match that had made Catherine very happy.
Elizabeth hurried to her aunt, quickly falling in step with her older cousin as they exited the room; Beatrice linking arms with Filiberta as they conversed excitedly about the celebrations that they were allowed to attend. Anne watched her daughters leave with a smile, she prayed that she would not have to say goodbye to them before she was ready to do so.
"It is a shame that Mary could not join the festivities," George mused seated beside his wife and mother, he had hoped that the celebrations would mark a return to court for most of their family especially with all the children now getting older. It felt like a lifetime since he had last seen his older sister, Mary mostly preferring her country estate with her husband than time at court but it had been many years since she had attended Anne. Edward and Anne Stafford, were eight and six respectively now, both having been offered places at the royal nursery but Mary had declined in favour of keeping her younger children close.
"Her health is not the best these days," Elizabeth Boleyn noted quietly, she had visited her eldest daughter recently and was shocked at how frail she seemed during the visit. Mary had insisted that all was well but Elizabeth had not been convinced, she prayed for her eldest daughter not prepared to lose one of her children after the loss of her husband.
"We shall have to visit her and William, it has been far too long," Clarice said sipping on her wine, she looked to George knowing that they had plenty of time to do so before they were required back at Beaulieu. It felt like such a long time since she had seen Mary, she found her time split between their home and the court these days; while Mary was contented with life away from court, a peace that she had built there.
Her eldest daughter being a court and a married woman had certainly changed things for Mary, who dedicated her time to the gardens of her home and her two younger children with William Stafford. Henry Carey was also at court these days, serving at the King's pleasure and making a name for himself at court, he was a bright young man and George was sure he'd make a name for himself in the long run.
"Your Grace," a voice greeted interrupting Clarice and George, they turned to look at the boy that was standing behind them; he looked rather nervous and looked down at his feet. He was a rather handsome boy, he glanced behind him nervously before gathering his courage and looking towards the Duke and Duchess of Bedford and Wiltshire.
"May I ask Lady Contessina to dance?" the boy asked peering towards the older Boleyn daughter, he straightened his back and tried to look more confident than he felt at having to approach such important members of the court. It took Clarice a moment, tilting her head to look at the boy before her eyes cast behind him and across the room to where the Duchess of Suffolk was standing alone.
"You may," Clarice agreed with a smile, recognising the boy at last as Henry Brandon, Earl of Lincoln, the intended match for her daughter; he was six years old if she recalled and had a look of his father from what she could tell. Henry smiled before moving to speak with Contessina, the girl casting a look to her parents before allowing him to lead her towards the dance floor that was not far away.
"I hear that the Duke of Suffolk might have a new mistress, we should hope that his son does not take after him in that department," George murmured watching Henry and Contessina as they made to the dance floor. The Duke of Suffolk was almost as bad as the king when it came to his affairs, the man had always used his strong connection with the king to his advantage when it came to ladies of the court.
"We can hope," Clarice agreed nudging George with her elbow, she knew how lucky she had been in all of this; she prayed that her daughters would be as lucky when they married. Henry Brandon and Charles Bourbon had been fine matches for their eldest daughters, with William having been promised to Lady Jane Grey back in 1541 after a lot of negotiations with no plans currently set for Piccarda and John.
"Perhaps a Scottish match one day for Piccarda… if all goes well with the negotiations between His Majesty and King James," George mused knowing that there was still much being considered especially in regards to a potential match between Prince Geoffrey and the Scottish Princess Mary. Only time would tell on such matters, King James was still in mourning for the loss of his beloved wife and refused to even talk about a marriage for the now two-year-old princess. Clarice nodded her head looking to Contessina who had a smile on her face, her children would have bright future at many courts and one day she would have to say her goodbyes to each of them.
I recommend Bed of Deceit by BellalunaMcKenzie, For Even as Love Crowns You by wizardfantasy and Sanctuary by Cattyfan. Also check out My Lord Husband, The Enemy by Esme24, That Subtle Wreath by EvilFluffyBiteyThing and its sequel, A Progress in Kent.
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