Since the last one was fairly short, have another chapter.
Marie swung herself off her horse in the courtyard of Eltham, pausing only to throw the reins at a passing stable boy and to pull herself together before she swept into the Palace with her head held high. Lady Salisbury, the Princess’s governess, rounded the corner and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of her. A moment later, much to Marie’s surprise, she curtsied shallowly.
“Mistress Boleyn.”
Marie hesitated, unsure as to how to respond. On the one hand, the fact that Lady Salisbury had acknowledged her, that she knew who she was, meant that the news that she was high in the King’s favour had travelled, which might make her job easier. On the other hand, if Lady Salisbury thought she was as arrogant and loose-moraled as the Lady Blount, she might refuse to let her near the Princess Mary, which would mean she’d had a wasted journey.
In the end, Marie decided to use both her influence and her Boleyn charm to her advantage. Sinking into a deep curtsy, a curtsy that acknowledged the other woman’s royal heritage, she smiled up at the older woman.
“Lady Salisbury. Good morning. I apologise for disturbing you, but I’ve just ridden over from the Court at Havering to visit the Princess so that I might tell His Majesty how Her Highness fares.”
“You've come from Court? To see the Princess Mary?” For a moment, something like incredulous horror flickered across Lady Salisbury’s face, but then she collected herself and nodded, “Very well, Mistress Boleyn. You’d better come up to the nursery then, though you’ll have to excuse me while I prepare Her Highness to see you. She’s not exactly dressed for visitors at the moment.”
“That’s fine, Lady Salisbury,” Marie assured the older woman, and the two of them fell into step beside each other as they walked up to the nursery suite. Once there, Marie hung back, distracting herself with the tapestries in the outer room, while Lady Salisbury disappeared into an inner chamber.
Before long, however, Marie couldn’t help but overhear the shrieks of protest that were coming from the other room.
“I no want see her!”
“It’s ‘I don’t want to see her’, and I’m afraid you must, Your Highness. As a Princess, you always have to be gracious, no matter how you yourself feel,” Lady Salisbury’s voice sounded surprisingly tired, as though she had argued this point far too often already. As indeed she probably had, judging by the way the angry roars only got louder.
“No correct me! No! I no have do anything! I Princess! I no have see Miss’es Boleyn if I no want! You not Mama, Lady Bury. You not tell me what I do!”
Lady Salisbury sighed audibly. Unable to help herself, Marie pushed open the door the elder woman had just gone through.
She barely suppressed a gasp at what she saw.
A tiny fair-haired girl was thrashing in Lady Salisbury’s arms, kicking wildly as she fought to be free. If Marie hadn’t known that this was the Princess Mary, she would never have guessed. The girl’s long fair curls were tangled and matted, so much so that they clearly hadn’t been brushed for weeks. Her dress of green velvet was crushed and crumpled, with so many stains down it that, in places, it was hard to tell that it was meant to be green at all. Her eyes were swollen with tears and glittering with anger, while her skin was rough, filthy and blotchy, the antithesis of what a Princess’s skin should be.
Grateful for her courtier’s training, Marie nonetheless managed to keep her face blank as she curtsied low, “My Lady Princess. So you don’t want to see me, hmm? That’s a shame. I’ve just come from Court and I was hoping to be able to tell you how your Papa was and maybe even take a message from you to him, if you’d like me to.”
Lady Salisbury gasped at the informality of Marie’s address, but it worked. Little Mary stilled in her arms, looking across at Marie with a new emotion in her eyes. An emotion that hadn’t really been there since her mother died. Curiosity.
“Papa? You tell me about Papa?” she asked. Marie nodded, kneeling down and half-holding out her arms to the little girl, “If you like, Princess.”
In seconds, the little girl had flown out of Lady Salisbury’s hold and was in Marie’s, nestling into her arms trustingly, looking up at her hopefully. Instinctively, Marie closed her hold around the Princess’s waist, trying not to show her alarm at how thin she was. Even for a four-year-old, she was as light as a feather.
Carrying Her Highness over to the window, Marie sat down on the sill and began to tell her an edited version of all that had happened since she had been sent to Eltham.