Her Majesty the Dowager Queen of France to see you, Madam.”
Mary had been dozing lightly, Lionel in a cradle at the side of her couch when her herald’s polite cough woke her.
She blinked sleepily and sat up, rolling her shoulders as she tried to clear the sleep from her eyes.
“Mary? What brings her here?”
“Her Grace wishes to visit with you and His Highness the Prince of Wales, if you are so agreeable, My Lady Queen.”
Befuddled by sleep as she was, it took Marie a few moments to process what her herald was telling her, and even longer to believe it. Henry’s sister might never have denied her the precedence that was hers by right, but neither had she ever been particularly warm towards her. She’d certainly never sought her out before, not in the way the rest of the Court had begun to do the moment Henry had been open in his affection for her. This was a turn-up for the books.
Still, Marie could think of no real reason to refuse Henry’s beloved younger sister access to her godson.
“Very well, show Her Grace in. But I’ll not make any special allowances for her. She’ll take me as she finds me or not at all, is that clear?”
“Perfectly, Madam,” Marie’s herald nodded and hurried to the door. Moments later, Mary Brandon crossed the threshold of Marie’s room, dipping a slight curtsy as she did so.
“My Lady.”
“My Lady Suffolk,” Marie returned coolly, though, as she began to shake off her lethargy, she couldn’t help but feel her curiosity as to what Mary was doing in her rooms rising.
Mary seemed to be in no hurry to tell her either. She crossed the room almost tentatively and paused by Lionel’s cradle. She gazed down into the padded oaken bassinet for several seconds, seemingly taking in every inch of Lionel’s swaddled form.
“He’s a bonny lad,” she murmured at last, “Some would say the most beautiful boy in all of England.”
“He’s certainly the most precious.”
“Indeed", Mary smiled, “I’m surprised I don’t see my brother here, actually. I thought he’d be hanging over the boy, counting his every breath.”
“He does. And I love to have Lionel near me, so he is often here too. I believe the midwives and Lady Bryan despair of ever getting either of us into a routine, especially with the King bounding in and out of our rooms whenever the mood takes him.”
Marie hadn’t expected to share such a confidence with her sister-in-law, but she knew as soon as the words left her lips that it had been the right thing to do. Mary tipped her head back, laughing long and loud.
“That sounds like my brother!”
The two women glanced at each other, both sensing the surprising rapport that was hovering gently between them. Hesitantly, as though loath to break it, Mary motioned to the cradle as Lionel snuffled slightly, “May I?”
It was clear what she wanted and Marie shrugged, “I suppose so. As long as he’s not asleep.”
Marie could hear the defensive note in her voice, and flinched at it. Why was she being so protective? Mary was Lionel’s aunt as well as his godmother. Of course she wouldn’t hurt him.
Needing no second urging, Mary cupped her arms around Lionel and brought him up to her chest. Marie watched, wondering how her son would take to this unfamiliar pair of arms. The young Prince snuffled once or twice and then nestled into his aunt, gurgling.
“He’s a little charmer, isn’t he?” Mary murmured, rocking him lightly, “I’m honoured to be his godmother, truly.”
“The King was adamant,” Marie shrugged, “He could think of no one better to be our son’s sponsor at his Confirmation.”
Mary looked at her, reading her body language, for one long moment. Then, to Marie’s surprise, she put Lionel back in the bassinet and sank down on the end of the bed. She reached out, breaking protocol, to put her hand on Marie’s.
“I owe you an apology, sister,” she said softly, “I haven’t treated you as I ought to have treated my brother’s wife and Queen. If I’m honest, I didn’t think you were the right wife for him when he wed you. But I haven’t seen my brother so happy in years. Besides, if nothing else, you have given him the thing he has always wanted. A healthy, squalling son.”
“Not too much of the squalling, I hope, or Lady Bryan may not thank me!” Marie chuckled. Her cheeks reddened. “Thank you, Mary. You needn’t say all of this.”
“Yes, I must. Because I judged you before I truly knew you, because I pushed you into this and then scorned you for going ahead with it in the only way you knew how. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t fair and I am sorry.”
The older woman’s words hung in the air between them. Not knowing what to say, Marie settled for simply squeezing her sister-in-law’s hand hard.
Mary exhaled lightly and rose, lifting Marie’s hand with her. She kissed the back of it, breathing low, “My Queen.”
Marie couldn’t help but laugh. Mary clearly had the same sense of dramatics as her older brother. Behind the laughter though, was a great sense of relief and gratitude, one that shone in her eyes as she nodded and waved Mary away.
Without protest, Mary went to the door. On the threshold, she curtsied, a deep curtsy this time – one as deep as any she had ever given her brother’s first Queen, Katherine of Aragon.