A very different 1540: Anne of Cleves takes charge

[Kynan]

Queen Anne had always been the type of woman to hold herself at a distance. Her mother had taught her that stoicism and silence were the makings of a good wife, and duty was before dignity. Sweetness, softness, and even beauty would not keep your husband half as contented as would the absence of give. But after a week of her “honeymoon”, she was aware her pliancy had not had the intended effect. As the ambassador had so inelegantly put it, marriage was mostly about creating heirs. The process was messy and uncomfortable, but necessary. Except…so far, it hadn’t been.

The King was perfectly gallant in his behaviour towards her. He asked her polite questions about her day, considering they spent most of it apart. She’d try and answer without sounding too awkwardly provincial, considering her most frequent activities included sewing for the poor and taking lessons on her new realm. Then they’d share a short kiss, and sleep beneath blankets she considered far too light for the freezing winter.

No sex.

The girl she had been a few months ago would have gone red at the sound of that word – or at least an equivalent in a language she’d known. But after her careful discussions on the ship to England, she was at least aware of the mechanics. Of what a man should do, and what she should expect. None of what had been said matched the chaste winter nights she’d been experiencing.

Her marriage wasn’t real until the act had been done. Consummation was pivotal to maintaining not just her status, but the alliance she represented. So tonight, unlike other nights, she had prepared herself to force the matter.

She had learned the King liked oranges before leaving her brother’s court, so she’d requested some mini pies made from orange preserves to be in her rooms for when he arrived. A decanter of his favourite wine beside them. Sweet perfumes all over the sheets and her night gown. All designed to make him agreeable. Anne sat by the fire and waited.

“What a lovely vision!” he said, startling her. Unlike herself, the King had not dressed for the act of seduction. Having undressed in the room adjoining, he had not even fixed his hair or beard before arriving to meet her. Instead, the smell of his ulcer wafted through the air as he grabbed a pie and sat across from her by the fire.

“Thank you…your…majesty. All fo…for you”

She hated how her English was so stilted. He smiled politely and bit into his treat, looking past her at the new tapestries she’d had put up. No more terrifying scenes of war on the walls. Anne had swapped them over for knights and ladies, flowers in the forest, and one of Adam and Eve that she hoped might inflame passions.

“Did you have the walls changed?” he asked.

“Yes. I did not…not like the others…other ones. Too…dark,” she waved over to the walls, “so these are better.”

Another polite smile. More enthusiastic chewing. A glance at the bed, as if he was not going to talk anymore.

Too much.

“Maybe it would be better,” she stood up, “if I switched to French.”

That startled him. She was less awkward in this language.

Walking over to the King, she took the pastry from his hand and placed it back on the table. Pulling the cap from her head and shaking out her heavy head of hair, Anne moved to sit on the bed.

“Your French is very good.” he said, clearly confused by the sudden switch.

“Come,” she patted beside her “and sit.”

He did, strangely obedient. Once settled, she continued,

“I wonder if it would be best to ask what we both want from this marriage?”

“I just want you to be happy.”

She shrugged, and put her hand on his arm.

“I want you to be happy to. I need you to be happy.”

It was clumsy. A juvenile attempt at seduction from a woman who knew basically nothing about the whole ordeal. But in that moment, aware that this was not just a Princess but a warm, breathing body beside him, the King finally followed through on his marriage vows. When Anne lay there, she felt strangely fulfilled. It hadn’t been particularly pleasant, or unpleasant, but she felt a triumph in her stomach. Nobody could say she wasn’t his wife anymore.

 

[eliamartin65]

Queen Anne had always been the type of woman to hold herself at a distance. Her mother had taught her that stoicism and silence were the makings of a good wife, and duty was before dignity. Sweetness, softness, and even beauty would not keep your husband half as contented as would the absence of give. But after a week of her “honeymoon”, she was aware her pliancy had not had the intended effect. As the ambassador had so inelegantly put it, marriage was mostly about creating heirs. The process was messy and uncomfortable, but necessary. Except…so far, it hadn’t been.

The King was perfectly gallant in his behaviour towards her. He asked her polite questions about her day, considering they spent most of it apart. She’d try and answer without sounding too awkwardly provincial, considering her most frequent activities included sewing for the poor and taking lessons on her new realm. Then they’d share a short kiss, and sleep beneath blankets she considered far too light for the freezing winter.

No sex.

The girl she had been a few months ago would have gone red at the sound of that word – or at least an equivalent in a language she’d known. But after her careful discussions on the ship to England, she was at least aware of the mechanics. Of what a man should do, and what she should expect. None of what had been said matched the chaste winter nights she’d been experiencing.

Her marriage wasn’t real until the act had been done. Consummation was pivotal to maintaining not just her status, but the alliance she represented. So tonight, unlike other nights, she had prepared herself to force the matter.

She had learned the King liked oranges before leaving her brother’s court, so she’d requested some mini pies made from orange preserves to be in her rooms for when he arrived. A decanter of his favourite wine beside them. Sweet perfumes all over the sheets and her night gown. All designed to make him agreeable. Anne sat by the fire and waited.

“What a lovely vision!” he said, startling her. Unlike herself, the King had not dressed for the act of seduction. Having undressed in the room adjoining, he had not even fixed his hair or beard before arriving to meet her. Instead, the smell of his ulcer wafted through the air as he grabbed a pie and sat across from her by the fire.

“Thank you…your…majesty. All fo…for you”

She hated how her English was so stilted. He smiled politely and bit into his treat, looking past her at the new tapestries she’d had put up. No more terrifying scenes of war on the walls. Anne had swapped them over for knights and ladies, flowers in the forest, and one of Adam and Eve that she hoped might inflame passions.

“Did you have the walls changed?” he asked.

“Yes. I did not…not like the others…other ones. Too…dark,” she waved over to the walls, “so these are better.”

Another polite smile. More enthusiastic chewing. A glance at the bed, as if he was not going to talk anymore.

Too much.

“Maybe it would be better,” she stood up, “if I switched to French.”

That startled him. She was less awkward in this language.

Walking over to the King, she took the pastry from his hand and placed it back on the table. Pulling the cap from her head and shaking out her heavy head of hair, Anne moved to sit on the bed.

“Your French is very good.” he said, clearly confused by the sudden switch.

“Come,” she patted beside her “and sit.”

He did, strangely obedient. Once settled, she continued,

“I wonder if it would be best to ask what we both want from this marriage?”

“I just want you to be happy.”

She shrugged, and put her hand on his arm.

“I want you to be happy to. I need you to be happy.”

It was clumsy. A juvenile attempt at seduction from a woman who knew basically nothing about the whole ordeal. But in that moment, aware that this was not just a Princess but a warm, breathing body beside him, the King finally followed through on his marriage vows. When Anne lay there, she felt strangely fulfilled. It hadn’t been particularly pleasant, or unpleasant, but she felt a triumph in her stomach. Nobody could say she wasn’t his wife anymore.

Great start! Can we get threadmarks?

 

[BoleynBuff]

Can't wait to see where this goes!

 

[Nuraghe]

Queen Anne had always been the type of woman to hold herself at a distance. Her mother had taught her that stoicism and silence were the makings of a good wife, and duty was before dignity. Sweetness, softness, and even beauty would not keep your husband half as contented as would the absence of give. But after a week of her “honeymoon”, she was aware her pliancy had not had the intended effect. As the ambassador had so inelegantly put it, marriage was mostly about creating heirs. The process was messy and uncomfortable, but necessary. Except…so far, it hadn’t been.

The King was perfectly gallant in his behaviour towards her. He asked her polite questions about her day, considering they spent most of it apart. She’d try and answer without sounding too awkwardly provincial, considering her most frequent activities included sewing for the poor and taking lessons on her new realm. Then they’d share a short kiss, and sleep beneath blankets she considered far too light for the freezing winter.

No sex.

The girl she had been a few months ago would have gone red at the sound of that word – or at least an equivalent in a language she’d known. But after her careful discussions on the ship to England, she was at least aware of the mechanics. Of what a man should do, and what she should expect. None of what had been said matched the chaste winter nights she’d been experiencing.

Her marriage wasn’t real until the act had been done. Consummation was pivotal to maintaining not just her status, but the alliance she represented. So tonight, unlike other nights, she had prepared herself to force the matter.

She had learned the King liked oranges before leaving her brother’s court, so she’d requested some mini pies made from orange preserves to be in her rooms for when he arrived. A decanter of his favourite wine beside them. Sweet perfumes all over the sheets and her night gown. All designed to make him agreeable. Anne sat by the fire and waited.

“What a lovely vision!” he said, startling her. Unlike herself, the King had not dressed for the act of seduction. Having undressed in the room adjoining, he had not even fixed his hair or beard before arriving to meet her. Instead, the smell of his ulcer wafted through the air as he grabbed a pie and sat across from her by the fire.

“Thank you…your…majesty. All fo…for you”

She hated how her English was so stilted. He smiled politely and bit into his treat, looking past her at the new tapestries she’d had put up. No more terrifying scenes of war on the walls. Anne had swapped them over for knights and ladies, flowers in the forest, and one of Adam and Eve that she hoped might inflame passions.

“Did you have the walls changed?” he asked.

“Yes. I did not…not like the others…other ones. Too…dark,” she waved over to the walls, “so these are better.”

Another polite smile. More enthusiastic chewing. A glance at the bed, as if he was not going to talk anymore.

Too much.

“Maybe it would be better,” she stood up, “if I switched to French.”

That startled him. She was less awkward in this language.

Walking over to the King, she took the pastry from his hand and placed it back on the table. Pulling the cap from her head and shaking out her heavy head of hair, Anne moved to sit on the bed.

“Your French is very good.” he said, clearly confused by the sudden switch.

“Come,” she patted beside her “and sit.”

He did, strangely obedient. Once settled, she continued,

“I wonder if it would be best to ask what we both want from this marriage?”

“I just want you to be happy.”

She shrugged, and put her hand on his arm.

“I want you to be happy to. I need you to be happy.”

It was clumsy. A juvenile attempt at seduction from a woman who knew basically nothing about the whole ordeal. But in that moment, aware that this was not just a Princess but a warm, breathing body beside him, the King finally followed through on his marriage vows. When Anne lay there, she felt strangely fulfilled. It hadn’t been particularly pleasant, or unpleasant, but she felt a triumph in her stomach. Nobody could say she wasn’t his wife anymore.

excellent opening chapter, you have caught my interest, especially because I feel sympathy for the Otl Anne of Cleves, here if she actually manages to keep the attention of the less than faithful King Henry, then the chances are many, first of all we can see Mary get a happy ending for once ( given that Anne was very supportive of the idea of a marriage between her and Philip of the Palatinate, which even the Habsburgs would have accepted to some extent, given that Otl was very loyal to Ferdinand and died in Hungary in 1548 ) furthermore, to sweeten the pill of such a marriage, perhaps Charles can lure Henry by promising him in exchange for fiefdoms in the HRE ( confiscated from the Lutherans possibly, Otl we were talking about the city of Bremen and its surroundings ) if he assists him in his war against Francis and the League of Schmalkand

 

[Kynan]

It had been weeks since the King had wedding the Cleves girl, and Thomas Cromwell was sure of two things. King Henry was not exactly enamoured with his bride, and Thomas needed to find a way to get into his good graces. It wasn’t even clear if the marriage had been consummated based on reports from those he had surveyed.

It wasn’t like the King had been forthcoming with information about the situation.

To top it off, Lord Howard had begun to flood the court with the girls of his family. Some married, others pointedly not. Of particular concern to Thomas was the King’s widowed daughter-in-law, who had begun to “visit” her father while on business with the King. He had to just hope the underlying incestuousness of that dynamic would prevent the game being played.

They were all quite pretty, he would give the Howards that. The Carey girl – a niece of Anne Boleyn – seemed especially favoured at times to him. But that might have been pity and kindness on behalf of his daughter. The young girl had grown attached to the older one apparently, and Henry could be generous in the right scenario.

“Busy, Cromwell?”

His attention perked, the lawyer stood up immediately and greeted the King. Henry rarely visited him this early in the morning, and he had been working through the treaties and agreements signed prior to the King’s wedding to find a way out of the increasingly likelihood that they might have to war with the Hapsburgs.

“No, my lord, just some busy work. How may I help you?”

Henry briefly looked down at the mess of papers across the desk, and Thomas worried that his eyes might be drawn to the document he had just set aside with explicit mention of “the necessity of martial support” so obviously written towards the top. But instead, it wasn’t the documents that caught his eye – it was a sketch. One of dozens the artist Holbein had sent from Cleves, and one that he had never shown the King.

The two sisters sat next to each other, Amelia looking at a book in her hands, and Anne looking at the artist and laughing. It was a rough sketch, and one Thomas only now realised was much more accurate to the subjects that the official portrait of the new Queen. There was something alive about her smile.

“I never saw this one.”

Henry picked up the sketch and looked at it, turning the page to see notes written on the back, describing an interaction where the Lady Amelia had asked about the King’s children. There were dozens of sketches sent from Holbein’s brief stay at the court. Henry had only really been enamoured with one.

“Didn’t you? I only just rediscovered it amongst my papers.”

“Was I shown it?”

He had already said he hadn’t seen it. This was a trap. But Thomas would not lie to his King so easily.

“I don’t believe so. We had more formal portraits of the Queen and her sister,” he pulled out one of the Queen, similar to the one he had fallen in love with, “which meant the last of the sketches weren’t really necessary.”

“And you decided what was necessary?”

Tight. Tense. Thomas shook his head.

“No, not just I.”

Henry sighed and dropped the paper on the table, then brushed the face of his bride with his thumb. The corresponding smudge have the laughter depicted the appearance of a scream.

“I would not have married this woman.”

It was enough. Regret. Something wistful in the air. Henry licked his thumb, and then wiped the charcoal on his thumb against Thomas’ shirt, staining the expensive, red fabric of his sleeve. A deliberate snub on an investment of the finer things. The air suddenly felt very heavy. With little else to do in response, he dropped the more flattering portrait atop the smeared one.

"Have you...?" was all Thomas could get out before the King left in a hurry. No answer. No security.

 

[Nuraghe]

excellent opening chapter, you have caught my interest, especially because I feel sympathy for the Otl Anne of Cleves, here if she actually manages to keep the attention of the less than faithful King Henry, then the chances are many, first of all we can see Mary get a happy ending for once ( given that Anne was very supportive of the idea of a marriage between her and Philip of the Palatinate, which even the Habsburgs would have accepted to some extent, given that Otl was very loyal to Ferdinand and died in Hungary in 1548 ) furthermore, to sweeten the pill of such a marriage, perhaps Charles can lure Henry by promising him in exchange for fiefdoms in the HRE ( confiscated from the Lutherans possibly, Otl we were talking about the city of Bremen and its surroundings ) if he assists him in his war against Francis and the League of Schmalkand

furthermore I forgot to add that Cromwell had originally thought of this marriage of the king as a way to break the diplomatic isolation of England of the period, and create an alliance with the imperial princes of Protestant faith in an anti-Charles V function, but paradoxically as I explained it could dramatically become a closer agreement between London and the Habsburgs, plus with Henry owning territories in the Reich it will be fun to see what Luther thinks of this ( since I believe Henry is the second / third person overall after the Habsburg and Rome not to have good feelings towards the monk, this is to remain kind ), finally Otl from Henry's last war, the number of recruits coming from Germany began to rise ( just think that subsequently in 1549, the soldiers who bloodily quelled the revolt in Cornwall were landsknechts mostly armed with arquebus ) so it is not to be exclude a similar process started in advance ( given that Bremen is a rich port city that Otl was Sweden's main source of both economic and troop resources in HRE )

 

[Kynan]

Mary Howard knew exactly what her father was doing in all of this. If the Queen were to be set aside, and everyone thought they knew she would be, then he wanted an in. That in? Herself, apparently.

She wasn’t a vain woman – she knew that, while pretty, she had never been too similar to the women King Henry flaunted himself with. They were girls like Anne Bassett and Elizabeth Browne. Flighty and bright and with too much energy for their own good. But the steady, studious woman she saw in her reflection was not made to inspire his lust.

And obviously, the whole ‘father of her husband’ thing didn’t inspire anything in her.

But her father persisted, and continually forced them together in hopes of a spark on at least one side. Which is why she wore her dress loose in the waist, in her worst colours, with an old fashioned gable hood and a perfume she new turned stomachs. All little things to make herself just that bit less desirable.

However, she was interested enough in the game to play too. Just not with own person. Instead, she brought along two companions to distract from herself. The first, Mary Thursby, was a young and distant cousin who was just thrilled to be along for the ride, picked mostly for her pretty blondeness. But it was Kitty (Katherine) Howard she had the most hope for. The King’s last two mistresses had been stark contrasts – the youthful gaiety of Anne Basset, and the steady friendship of the Countess of Worcester. Maybe the pendulum was about to swing back from matron to maid.

Of course, her father was there with the King when she arrived. And obviously the Duke of Suffolk was there with them, immediately leering at the youngest in their party, the pretty Mistress Thursby. But while she kissed the cheeks of all three men with prompt politeness, there was something underneath. When the King touched Kitty’s arm, they both seemed to stop. Watching intensely, she saw as he pulled her from her curtsey, shrugging away the formalities of their introductions.

“Oh – how silly of me. My lords, might I introduce my cousins, the Mistresses Thursby and Howard. They’ve come to join me at court – Mary as my maid, and Katherine,” she paused to let the King linger on her, “as a member of Queen Anne’s household.”

The two dropped into curtsies. Little Mary wobbled a little, and the elder made a note to teach her how to drop down elegantly. But Kitty not only dropped low, but managed to effortlessly hold the King’s attention. Had she not known better, she’d assume the girl had been coached for this.

But no – that was Kitty. So natural. The perfect courtier.

“Mary, I didn’t know you were bringing friends.” muttered the Duke of Norfolk.

Her father was clearly angry, but she let it sweep over her. This was a win. Something was happening that she had started. As he glared at her, she sat beside him and gave a knowing glance at Kitty, who sat beside the King and was now recounting her trip to court and making him laugh at descriptions of a sheep that had somehow climbed a tree. It was an innocent flirtation. But as the realisation hit her father, she knew he understood what was afoot. It may not have been her, but they had a player in the game.

 

[Salma Amer]

Perhaps the successful Anne of Cleves could persuade Henry to marry Mary to Philip of Bavaria (Philip is the Palatine's heir because his brother and uncle had no children, Mary's son would be Elector Palatine ).

 

[Kynan]

“Now you be good, my sw…sweet Prince.”

The Queen gave her stepson another hug, and nodded to the strangely robust entourage to take the child away. Waving back as his chubby little arm flailed enthusiastically over the woman’s shoulder, Anne painted a grin on her face. He could be quite cute at times.

But by god did he scream with heavy lungs.

As the room was finally quiet, an exhausted Queen Anne looked over to the quiet Lady Elizabeth and tutted over the unfairness of the world. That little red-haired girl, with her earnest eyes and pinched mouth, was treated like a leaper by the men and women of the court. They focused all their attention on the straw-haired boy who had spent the better part of an hour crawling around her rooms while she tried to pretend that small children didn’t bother her.

It wasn’t that she hated them, but even Sibylle’s children annoyed her. Life in Düsseldorf had been defined by sharing the world with her brother and sister. But the King would want her to be a friend to his children, and she laboured towards that goal with a certain consistency. An hour in the mornings with both Prince Edward and his sister Elizabeth, followed by a lunch with the eldest daughter. Today she’d insisted her sister would join them, and Anne was interested to see if the child’s intelligence would hold over a conversation. She was always so quiet.

The snow had fallen thick today, and the roaring fire fought against the cold that crawled up and down the walls. Anne mindlessly pulled her cloak more around her, and missed as the equally chilled Elizabeth mimicked her behaviour. Her eyes had been drawn to the weather outside, where a sharp wind kept rattling the shutters so tightly locked. But that would have to wait.

It was close to her engagement, and the food would arrive soon enough. She wandered over to the maid and quietly whispered for her to leave. “Please f…fetch the Lady Mary and remind her of our…engagement.” There was no room for refusal, even if lunch had no set time today. She wanted the room empty.

Faking a need for punctuality had been a decision made on the fly, mostly as one of many excuses to constantly send people away from her. The guards stood outside, her ladies were out and about with errands. There was no privacy as Queen. She longed for space.

Anne had almost cancelled the luncheon over a spot of sickness in the morning. Every morning, really. Shortly before breakfast, she’d start to feel incredibly nauseous. She might even vomit in the privacy of her own rooms. But the Queen would be damned before she’d do the same in front of the gossips of the court. Her father, before his death, had warned her hold strong in the face of strangers, and to never trust the doctors. He was sure his were killing him, and then he died.

She was starting to suspect something might be wrong with her.

Or terribly right. After all, Sibylle had lay in bed until noon for months after falling pregnant with her first children. It had been nearly two months since she and the king had been together. He’d not been so inspired again. Thinking of that night filled her with a deep since of wrongness, and she suddenly had to run to throw up in the bucket conveniently left beside her bed. This had to be done before Mary arrived. It wouldn’t do to spark rumours so soon.

Elizabeth sat across the room, forgotten. Watching. Aware. She made a mental note to tell Kat the Queen had been ill.

 

[Nuraghe]

“Now you be good, my sw…sweet Prince.”

The Queen gave her stepson another hug, and nodded to the strangely robust entourage to take the child away. Waving back as his chubby little arm flailed enthusiastically over the woman’s shoulder, Anne painted a grin on her face. He could be quite cute at times.

But by god did he scream with heavy lungs.

As the room was finally quiet, an exhausted Queen Anne looked over to the quiet Lady Elizabeth and tutted over the unfairness of the world. That little red-haired girl, with her earnest eyes and pinched mouth, was treated like a leaper by the men and women of the court. They focused all their attention on the straw-haired boy who had spent the better part of an hour crawling around her rooms while she tried to pretend that small children didn’t bother her.

It wasn’t that she hated them, but even Sibylle’s children annoyed her. Life in Düsseldorf had been defined by sharing the world with her brother and sister. But the King would want her to be a friend to his children, and she laboured towards that goal with a certain consistency. An hour in the mornings with both Prince Edward and his sister Elizabeth, followed by a lunch with the eldest daughter. Today she’d insisted her sister would join them, and Anne was interested to see if the child’s intelligence would hold over a conversation. She was always so quiet.

The snow had fallen thick today, and the roaring fire fought against the cold that crawled up and down the walls. Anne mindlessly pulled her cloak more around her, and missed as the equally chilled Elizabeth mimicked her behaviour. Her eyes had been drawn to the weather outside, where a sharp wind kept rattling the shutters so tightly locked. But that would have to wait.

It was close to her engagement, and the food would arrive soon enough. She wandered over to the maid and quietly whispered for her to leave. “Please f…fetch the Lady Mary and remind her of our…engagement.” There was no room for refusal, even if lunch had no set time today. She wanted the room empty.

Faking a need for punctuality had been a decision made on the fly, mostly as one of many excuses to constantly send people away from her. The guards stood outside, her ladies were out and about with errands. There was no privacy as Queen. She longed for space.

Anne had almost cancelled the luncheon over a spot of sickness in the morning. Every morning, really. Shortly before breakfast, she’d start to feel incredibly nauseous. She might even vomit in the privacy of her own rooms. But the Queen would be damned before she’d do the same in front of the gossips of the court. Her father, before his death, had warned her hold strong in the face of strangers, and to never trust the doctors. He was sure his were killing him, and then he died.

She was starting to suspect something might be wrong with her.

Or terribly right. After all, Sibylle had lay in bed until noon for months after falling pregnant with her first children. It had been nearly two months since she and the king had been together. He’d not been so inspired again. Thinking of that night filled her with a deep since of wrongness, and she suddenly had to run to throw up in the bucket conveniently left beside her bed. This had to be done before Mary arrived. It wouldn’t do to spark rumours so soon.

Elizabeth sat across the room, forgotten. Watching. Aware. She made a mental note to tell Kat the Queen had been ill.

Ooh we have Anna dealing with Henry's offspring, the scene with the lively little boy Edward is nice, I hope that in this TL too the relationship with Mary is as good as in reality, mhm it seems that her relationship with Elizabeth will be uphill judging by the fact that Lizzie is doing ( voluntarily or otherwise ) a double game for Kitty and the Howards, anyway how nice that she is pregnant..... let's hope for the best

 

[Leonis_Regina]

Lovely and fascinating! I'm excited for this timeline

 

[Kynan]

The Queen was pregnant.

Mary might have been a maid herself, but the King’s eldest daughter knew the signs, and was shocked the rest of the court hadn’t noticed them as well. Particularly the beginning signs of swelling over her body. A less observant person might have missed them – even if they noticed the lingering smell of vomit when they had embraced early. Maybe Anne had gotten lucky – it was barely 2 months since the wedding. Nobody expected anything quite so soon. Particularly not with her father privately complaining to so many people about her various deficiencies.

But a son would fix all of that. He hadn’t been so fond of Jane in the weeks prior to her own pregnancy being announced. Maybe that was his way. Children born out of resentment. It would explain how callous he could be.

It wouldn’t do to think of that.

Instead, Mary sat at the table beside little Elizabeth at a table filled with courtiers she did and didn’t know, and nodded along as the Queen described the embroidery plans she had. There was little else to do at court in the winter. Particularly for a foreigner who rode poorly. It had been the same when Philip had been here. That man with kind eyes and the funny laugh.

Philip…

“And, of course, Lady Mary, I would want you to join me.”

Apparently, the conversation had turned.

Snapping back to attention, Mary turned back to her host. “Join you, your Majesty?”

Queen Anne looked confused, and shook her head.

“I apolo…apologise – I should not be practicing my English on you. I meant to say…would you join me in prepa..aring entertainments for the King? They say you dance well.”

They did not say that. Mary had not danced at court in years…except with Philip. And that was only once. But as a rule, she had not performed for her father in that way since her mother had been sent away all those years ago. She wondered if this was some sort of ploy, or a genuine attempt to reach out.

It didn’t matter. “Of course, I would be honoured. Would you like to join us, Elizabeth?”

The little girl nodded, and the Queen smiled at her. Her sister rarely spoke at court – fearing saying the wrong things. But Mary knew all those eyes took in. There was a keenness to her that sometimes worried her. Too much intelligence and not enough fun. She made a mental note to set up an activity for the two of them soon – maybe they would go pick out a puppy for her to keep from the litter of Lord Brandon’s dogs. Elizabeth was too serious – a pet would give her comfort.

As if reading her mind, the little girl carefully put her utensils down and looked up at her sister. “I have finished. Can we go to the gardens?”

Mary looked out to the window – the snow had settled and the sun was out – and then back to the Queen. Anne seemed displeased, and Mary didn’t want to upset her. But Elizabeth rarely asked to do anything. She set herself to say no, but was interrupted when one of the Queen’s maids spoke up. The pretty one with the long nose.

“I can take the Lady Elizabeth out for exercise, if you would like…my lady.”

Mary watched as this girl swivelled her head between the Queen and herself, and wondered how she was related to the Lady Richmond. All the Howards seemed the same to her – long nose, big eyes, and cold hearts. But if she was a Howard, she’d be family to Elizabeth at least.

“Mistress Howard, you may do so. Thank you.”

The Queen waved them away, and Mary was shocked to see her sister actually smile as she took the hand of the (surprisingly short) young lady and left the room. It was over in a matter of moments.

“That’s Kitty Howard,” whispered the Lady Douglas to her right, as the table lifted into adult conversation without the presence of the little girl, “she visits Elizabeth almost every day.”

Every day? That seemed odd. But then her cousin Eleanor leaned over as far as her pregnant belly would allow. “Elizabeth calls her Kat. It’s very sweet. I don’t like it.”

The three shared a knowing look, and Frances coughed loud enough to remind them that they were not in a safe place to talk so openly. The Queen was engrossed in her own conversations, but who knew what was being reported to her after the fact. Mary turned away from them and back to the Queen.

“So, your Majesty, what were you thinking of for the entertainments?”

 

[Nuraghe]

The Queen was pregnant.

Mary might have been a maid herself, but the King’s eldest daughter knew the signs, and was shocked the rest of the court hadn’t noticed them as well. Particularly the beginning signs of swelling over her body. A less observant person might have missed them – even if they noticed the lingering smell of vomit when they had embraced early. Maybe Anne had gotten lucky – it was barely 2 months since the wedding. Nobody expected anything quite so soon. Particularly not with her father privately complaining to so many people about her various deficiencies.

But a son would fix all of that. He hadn’t been so fond of Jane in the weeks prior to her own pregnancy being announced. Maybe that was his way. Children born out of resentment. It would explain how callous he could be.

It wouldn’t do to think of that.

Instead, Mary sat at the table beside little Elizabeth at a table filled with courtiers she did and didn’t know, and nodded along as the Queen described the embroidery plans she had. There was little else to do at court in the winter. Particularly for a foreigner who rode poorly. It had been the same when Philip had been here. That man with kind eyes and the funny laugh.

Philip…

“And, of course, Lady Mary, I would want you to join me.”

Apparently, the conversation had turned.

Snapping back to attention, Mary turned back to her host. “Join you, your Majesty?”

Queen Anne looked confused, and shook her head.

“I apolo…apologise – I should not be practicing my English on you. I meant to say…would you join me in prepa..aring entertainments for the King? They say you dance well.”

They did not say that. Mary had not danced at court in years…except with Philip. And that was only once. But as a rule, she had not performed for her father in that way since her mother had been sent away all those years ago. She wondered if this was some sort of ploy, or a genuine attempt to reach out.

It didn’t matter. “Of course, I would be honoured. Would you like to join us, Elizabeth?”

The little girl nodded, and the Queen smiled at her. Her sister rarely spoke at court – fearing saying the wrong things. But Mary knew all those eyes took in. There was a keenness to her that sometimes worried her. Too much intelligence and not enough fun. She made a mental note to set up an activity for the two of them soon – maybe they would go pick out a puppy for her to keep from the little of Lord Brandon’s dogs. Elizabeth was too serious – a pet would give her comfort.

As if reading her mind, the little girl carefully put her utensils down and looked up at her sister. “I have finished. Can we go to the gardens?”

Mary looked out to the window – the snow had settled and the sun was out – and then back to the Queen. Anne seemed displeased, and Mary didn’t want to upset her. But Elizabeth rarely asked to do anything. She set herself to say no, but was interrupted when one of the Queen’s maids spoke up. The pretty one with the long nose.

“I can take the Lady Elizabeth out for exercise, if you would like…my lady.”

Mary watched as this girl swivelled her head between the Queen and herself, and wondered how she was related to the Lady Richmond. All the Howards seemed the same to her – long nose, big eyes, and cold hearts. But if she was a Howard, she’d be family to Elizabeth at least.

“Mistress Howard, you may do so. Thank you.”

The Queen waved them away, and Mary was shocked to see her sister actually smile as she took the hand of the (surprisingly short) young lady and left the room. It was over in a matter of moments.

“That’s Kitty Howard,” whispered the Lady Douglas to her right, as the table lifted into adult conversation without the presence of the little girl, “she visits Elizabeth almost every day.”

Every day? That seemed odd. But then her cousin Eleanor leaned over as far as her pregnant belly would allow. “Elizabeth calls her Kat. It’s very sweet. I don’t like it.”

The three shared a knowing look, and Frances coughed loud enough to remind them that they were not in a safe place to talk so openly. The Queen was engrossed in her own conversations, but who knew what was being reported to her after the fact. Mary turned away from them and back to the Queen.

“So, your Majesty, what were you thinking of for the entertainments?”

Ooh, our Mary is not only very smart as always, perhaps a little too much for her own good ( but after all she is still her parents' daughter ) but now she is also experiencing what having a crush on a boy can cause.... ( at least one joy in his life, come on hold on a little longer dear, then you will be able to see him again and hopefully also visit your cousins on the continent in the future ) beautiful how he cares and worries about Lizzie ( I like the idea of the little dog )

 

[Kynan]

Kitty Howard was a lot of things to a lot of people. A smiling flower of youth to the men who frequently followed her around like sad dogs, desperate for a pet behind the ear. Her brother called her the most precocious politician at court, while also pretending she was his inferior in any way. Dear Lady Agnes had often described her to strangers as “the pretty girl with too much energy”. But internally, Kitty considered herself less considerably less frivolous than anyone else thought.

She knew before the rest of the world that King Henry was interested in her. The decision had been made before her brother and uncle demanded it to not sleep with him. Her instincts to hold a potential match in Culpeper at a distance had been correct. So long as she stayed strong, she could be Queen by the end of the year.

At least, she had been on that track before the Queen had (likely) fallen pregnant.

The court hadn’t even been sure the marriage had been consummated, and the King had only just begun pursued her with promises of sweet things, and the lingering implication of something…more. But that more had lost its lustre. Right now, she was no better than Mistress Basset, who had kept his bed warm while waiting for a foreign bride.

Now, sitting in the room of the quiet German woman, who ordered music to be played while she sewed at a pair of gloves, Kitty felt an overwhelming sense of dread. Women didn’t last long in the King’s heart. She needed an exit plan.

Thomas Stanley had been giving her the eye, particularly since his wife was dying in the country. That might have been a strong escape plan, except his son – a boy of barely twelve, was equally an enamoured with her. The Radcliffe heir had sent her a book of poetry to borrow, but she despised his darting eyes and pinched mouth. There was the Hasting’s boy – no prospects, but the King evidentially liked him. If he liked both of them, maybe they’d have a future. Everyone loved her right now. The iron was hot and ready to strike.

Thoughts of her options kept her distracted while wiled away the hours. Tonight, there’d be another party. The King would pull her aside for some heavy petting and whispers of love. She hated those moments. His breath always stank.

The little Lord John Grey then stumbled into the room, and she watched with interest as he clumsily stooped into something resembling a bow. A basket of fruit under one arm. Presents for the Queen, she suspected.

“Rise, boy.”

Short answers were the norm from the Queen.

With little fanfare, he walked through the gaggle of bored women and placed the basket on the table besides Queen Anne. Brimming with slightly bruised fruit and sweet treats, she smiled and picked up the top one to smell. Kitty couldn’t imagine it was half as nice as the pears King Henry had sent to her room the night before. But the Queen seemed pleased.

“Thank you.”

Little Lord John bowed low, and then pulled from his belt, a rose.

“The apples are a gift from His Majesty,” he gestured towards the fruit, before raising the flower, “and this, is a gift for one of your ladies.”

Kitty prayed it wasn’t for her, only to be unsurprised that he was at her feet. The surprise was that the note was not addressed from the King. It was from his advisor, Cromwell. She could tell by the handwriting, if not from the sign off.

‘Mistress Howard,

For your kindness. Your heart is noted.

TC’

Kitty guessed this was meant from the King, but something about this wasn’t his style. King Henry had never sent her flowers. He had little use for roses. But something had to be said to the crowd. So, with her face blankly, she waited until Lord Grey exited the room, and took her stage at the centre of attention.

“I’m sure you’re all interested in who is sending me such a pretty flower, and so am I.”

It was all a game in this moment. The Queen looked concerned. But knowing it wasn’t dangerous for her made it fun. Kitty twirled with excitement.

“Well…it is a venerable man of the court. Someone who we all know for his intelligence and cunning. A man so beloved that I think our dear Queen will be most interested.”

Another giggle.

“Yes, this is a love letter from none other than Lord Cromwell!”

The room was a flurry, and the girls in the room all began to giggle hard as they rushed to hear more. But it was the quick rise of a hand that stopped them. Because this did not amuse the Queen.

“You will not read your letter…letter aloud, Mistress Howard. It would be rude.”

Beckoning her forward, the Queen pulled herself up to a standing position and drew the girl close to her, so she could whisper. Kitty feared the repercussions of her little stunt. It was the type of thing she used to do when Dereham wrote her those awful love notes. The girls in her dorm went wild for even the glimpse of something so salacious.

But instead of a rebuke, there was lightness in the murmurs, “We will go somewhere private. Bring the note.”

Pulling back, her eyes twinkled, and Kitty realised something. There was more to the German woman than just duty and quiet. Dipping into a curtsey, she followed her to the doorway, she the Queen slowly turned back to the mostly confused crowd of women.

“We will go for our exercise,” she pointed to the pile of sewing she had left beside her chair, “so you will…all finish the sewing before going about your…affairs.”

Affairs. She wasn’t sure if the Queen had meant it to cut through these women’s hearts. But when she noticed Mistress Browne squirming, she hoped so.

 

[Anarch King of Dipsodes]

Interesting... Kitty's ambitious, but if she accepts that Henry is out of bounds, then there is no quarrel with Anne. It would be clever of Anne to make a friend of Kitty, or at least an ally.

 

[Leonis_Regina]

Interesting... Kitty's ambitious, but if she accepts that Henry is out of bounds, then there is no quarrel with Anne. It would be clever of Anne to make a friend of Kitty, or at least an ally.

A friendship I'd never before imagined, but *immediately* wanted! I'm suddenly imagining Kitty as Anne's little court spy. Maybe ring Mary and baby Liz in too 😃 nobody suspects a cute baby.

Anne and Kitty so often get nearly as shafted in althistory as they did OTL, so I always enjoy a TL where they get dealt a better hand. Although -- I say "they," but I think this is the first time I've run across an Anne of Cleves-focused one.

I'm enjoying it very much!

 

[Cate13]

I like what you’ve got so far! Can’t wait to see where it goes

 

[Kynan]

Elizabeth sat under a tree in the gardens with Kat – clutching her little dog in her arms. Everyone called her Kat by the pet name Kitty, but they’d agreed that since Elizabeth was the young one, Kitty would be Kat to only her. It was nice to have someone who listened to her. They told each other everything – and they were cousins!

Today was warmer than most days of late had been, and the two girls – for Kat was truly still a girl herself – had spent the last hour running through the snow and sliding down hills. It was an impromptu activity, made the better by her new puppy, wriggling in her lap. Bundled up in heavy furs, they’d managed to someone start a sweat, and Elizabeth knew they’d be dragged inside and she’d be forced to drink something too hot and not sweet enough. But for now, they were basking in a glorious day.

At least for a moment, for Mary was stomping through the snow, towards them.

“Elizabeth, you must come quickly!”

Nothing was ever urgent to her sister, so the little girl pushed herself up immediately. In her many, may (7) years of life, Mary had only rushed her once, and that had been to see Edward after he was born. But outside of that, she moved at a pace akin to a snail. Steady. Constant. Running was not part of her day-to-day activities.

Kat herself was clearly shocked to see the King’s daughter rushing at such a pace. Grabbing their things, she dropped and immediately began tying Elizabeth’s heavy cloak around her neck, anticipating a run. The dog, having been tumbled to the floor, jumped in the way incessantly.

“What has happened, Mary?” she squealed, mind racing with the possibilities. Maybe their father was sick. Or the Queen. Or, worst of all, little Edward. But Mary wasn’t angry, or scared. Granted, her face was usually set into a stern, flat mask. But Elizabeth could read her easily. This was something exciting. Joy, even.

Kat grabbed her hand, and looked to Mary, “where do we need to go, my Lady?”

For a second, Mary stopped and seemed to consider her answer. She didn’t like Kat very much. Elizabeth thought she was jealous – Mary was much less pretty than her friend. But with a shrug, Mary turned and single shouted back, “to your mistress’ chambers. Hurry!”

Elizabeth wondered if maybe the Queen had hurt herself.

By the time they’d made it back inside, Mary was out of breath and Elizabeth was sweating beneath the heavy fabrics. But they’d made it to the doors – puppy under one of Kat’s arms, the other hand holding Elizabeth’s. She wondered if her stepmother’s illness had gotten worse. Maybe they were here to see her die. But then Mary wouldn’t be excited. Would she?

Kat untied the cloak and began to straighten her up, passing the pup off to a passing servant to be washed and sent to Elizabeth’s chambers. Mary herself had basically run into their cousin Maggie, who fiddled with her hair and dress with less skill and more fussiness. She’d never liked the Scottish Queen or her daughter. While she barely remember her Aunt Margaret, she did receive one letter from her that told her to be a good girl “in spite of your blood”, which she did not appreciate and had burned at the first opportunity. Maggie, by contrast, was less mean and more stupid and arrogant. Kat had told her she’d loved her brother, but Charlie had been warned of by her father. Elizabeth though Charlie Howard was handsome, but very short compared to Maggie. But the two were separated, and Elizabeth knew Maggie and Mary often dined together. They were very old to be unmarried women. She hoped she’d never be that old and alone.

Kat finished up with her and stood back as Mary grabbed her hand and waved the other women away.

“Thank you, but this is just for the family.”

They curtsied – Maggie was a distinct reluctant, and Elizabeth walked in to see her father sitting at the bedside of the Queen with little Edward. The Queen, who’s hair was loose and face quite pink, was beneath the covers. It then hit her. Queen Anne was dying. Like how the Lady Jane had laid dying after Edward was born, they’d been brought in to say goodbye. The doctors knew this time that she was not going to make it. Overwhelmed and upset, she ran to her and began crying. Big waves of heavy weeps flooded out of her body.

That startled the room, and it took many minutes to calm her down. The Queen wasn’t dying. She was pregnant and on bedrest. In the glow of the fire, Henry VIII holding his son, told his youngest daughter the good news. The Queen smiled serenely. Mary practically glowed in the presence of a family picture she hadn’t ever seen before.

And behind the doors, Kitty wept grateful tears, and walked to her rooms, where Lord Cromwell had sent another dozen roses. These ones with other note.

‘Mistress Howard,

Your service will be rewarded.

TC’

Not even Katherine realised what service he meant.

 

[Leonis_Regina]

Oh, poor Elizabeth! What a scare for her. I love the little domestic scene at the end.

 

[Kynan]

Henry was about to be a father again. He wouldn’t count the number of times he’d been through this, but he was quite sure it was in the double digits.

It never got easier.

At least with Edward, he’d wanted it. With all of his children, he’d wanted them. But as much as he was happy with the outcome, the bride was not…perfectly suited to her role. Maybe for the ceremonial work she did well. But to be King Henry’s Queen meant to be pleasant and beloved of King Henry.

Already a pregnant Anne was testing his patience. Her already dimished looks were further jeopardized by the growing fatness around her stomach, and he found the gabled hood she had begun to favour did not hide her steady, cow-like gaze. Eyes that had filled with repulsion upon their first meeting.

But every time he went to see her, he could catch a glimpse of his Pretty Kitty. All giggles and big smiled. When he kissed the Queen on the cheek, he pictured her rosy perfectness in its place. It should be her in his bed.

But she was proving resistant.

Clearly, she needed some convincing. He was a charming man – he could wait. Mistress Browne seemed eager enough to keep him company. But he wanted the Howard girl. If she couldn’t be his bride, she could be his lover.

---

Cromwell was nervous.

Yes, the Queen’s pregnancy showed that his matchmaking had been more successful than many had assumed. The Howard ambitions had withered on the vine of Kitty Howard. But something about this all felt so uneasy. The King’s declaration of his Earldom had only made him more wary, not less.

Which was why the shocking arrival of that one Mistress Howard had shocked him so.

Lord Cromwell, as he was known now, had never had the chance to actually speak to the merry girl who had stolen the King’s heart. With big brown eyes and an infectious laugh, he had seen her charms, but never towards his person. None of this was on display when she entered his chambers with the Lady Rochford.

Jane Boleyn had clearly been dragged here without much interest, and he couldn’t help but be bemused by her lurching presence. The Boleyns had never had much interest in their awkward daughter-in-law, even if she had followed them around like a wounded puppy. Having lost her other idols, he guessed she had latched onto this pretty cousin.

Kitty Howard, meanwhile, had taken care to dress as maturely as possible. Her usual French Hood had been replaced with a simple, blue gable (borrowed from her cousin, the Duchess), and her dress was a sensible grey and black. Had he not known her usual boisterous nature, he’s have taken her for one of the scholarly students his daughter wrote to him about.

Kitty, meanwhile, was sizing him up. Her family didn’t like Cromwell. An upstart with a brain was the worst kind of upstart. His son had married the Queen’s sister, and he himself was now a nobleman. It was all too much for them all. But Kitty had known poverty. Her father’s widow still wrote asking for loans she couldn’t provide. That poor woman had been one of many sucked in by Edmund Howard’s charm and foolishness.

Not her.

“Lord Howard,” she bobbed a curtsey, “I hope you are well.”

He smiled at her, and nodded towards Jane – her leering shadow. Gesturing for them to sit, she did not head towards the fireplace, but the stool across his desk. This was business.

“Mistress Howard…how many I help you?”

Spit it out.

“I…” she took a deep breath, “I would like thank you for the flowers.”

That wasn’t what she had meant to say.

“I’m afraid you are thanking the wrong man. Those were sent on…our mutual friend’s behalf. Not mine.”

Jane took in a sharp breath behind her, but Kitty shrugged it off. Let her be scandalised. It was the only thing that brought any colour to that woman’s life anyway.

“I think we both know who selected the roses, my lord. Our friend likes gold more than he likes roses.”

She raised a hand to her chest, defiantly showing him a pair of gold rings set with pearls. Two on one hand. Just one of the gifts the King had started raining on her since Queen Anne’s announcement – which had turned her from potential bride to future conquest.

Lord Cromwell just nodded. So, she dropped her hand and continued.

“I always preferred flowers. Fruits. Gifts that smell nice and make a place feel comfortable. Gold is only really something for the coffers – if I had one.”

She laughed, and Cromwell’s eyes involuntarily went to a grant the King had sent him to look over in which this girl before him would be granted three manor houses – one near London, and two with large tracts of land in the North. Coffers was something she should have soon enough to fill.

“Yes…well, I accept your thanks, if there is any to take.”

“Will you marry me?”

Too quick.

Eyes wide, they both let the question hang between them. It was heavy in the air. Jane, forever the swan, turned her back and began contemplating the books stacked on a table.

“Pardon me, Mistress-“

“Please just call me Kitty.”

“No. Mistress Howard-“

“He’s going to take me. I don’t want him to take me.”

Her business like persona crumbled, and despite her best intentions, Kitty was crying. Not the pretty weeping she often used to make the King calm down his heavy petting, nor the graceful teary eyes that had prevented punishments back in the household of the Duchess Agnes, but real tears. Scared crying. The type of thing that she hadn’t done since Master Dereham had first kissed her without warning. But this felt so much worse. She was trapped.

Cromwell hadn’t seen her as a woman, but collapsing before him, he actually saw the girl. Getting up from his chair, he rounded the desk and took her into a comforting embrace.”

“Don’t cry, little one.”

Little one. He hadn’t used that since his daughters had died. His own bastard girl had always just been “my Jane”. But he felt so responsible. Kitty Howard might be one of the Howards, but the Duke wasn’t asking his daughter to lay with the King. Or at least, she wasn’t in here crying to him.

“I don’t want him touching me. Please!”

She was in hysterics, and he didn’t know what to do. Lady Rochford had basically given up pretending to be distracted, and looked on in horror as her pretty leader basically heaved with pain. He got down to her level, and lifted her chin.

“Mistress Howard, you need to calm down.”

“You said my service would be rewarded. Instead, he just comes into the Queen’s rooms and pinches me like I’m some common maid!”

She grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Mistress-“

“Help me.”

Looking into her eyes, he recognised something. Maybe it was grit. Maybe it was humanity. But something within her tugged at him.

“Mistress Howard, I will do what I can to help you. Now please, I need you to stop crying.”

I’ve got him.

Taking a shaky breath, Kitty stood up. Wordless grabbing the old man’s heavy hand and kissing it, she nodded in silent agreement. Weary of upsetting her again, Cromwell watched in fascination and horror as she walked out, eyes still red from crying. He hoped no gossip would come from this. But this was exactly what Kitty wanted.

Jane followed quickly behind her, practically prancing at a job well done.

“Do you think he’ll marry you?”

Alone and excited, Kitty turned on her heels and beemed up at the gangly woman.

“Janie, I’ll be a countess by winter and a Duchess by Christmas!”

As they walked through the palace, she made a mental note to remind the Queen that the Lady Elizabeth would need a new cape before she left for Hever in a few weeks time. Queen Anne liked to order little gifts for her new children. It irked the King’s eldest daughter, but Kitty wasn’t interested in fostering friendship between the two of them. The Lady Mary Tudor had a habit of looking through Kitty instead of at her, and she would prefer that woman would remove herself from court.

But all in good time. For now, she needed to get back to her post.