With the gracious permission of Wildcard (I know, get back to my other TLs):
Anne Boleyn Dies 1532
Late July 1532
Princess Mary read the letter before her in equal parts amazement and disbelief. She looked up at the Duke of Suffolk, the bearer of the letter.
“Is this true, she’s dead?” she asked, she couldn’t help herself. It was too good to be true.
Suffolk nodded. “And your father wants you at court. If I were you, your grace, I would go in mourning.”
“Mourning, I’d rather wear –“
“Perhaps white mourning, as the French do, she was, after all, very fond of things French.”
“What happened?”
“Poison is suspected by your father and he’s trying to decide if she was killed deliberately or if he was the intended target.”
“But what happened?” Mary pressed. Seeing Suffolk shift from foot to foot, she said, “Please, be seated.” She looked at her ladies. “Bring him some wine, and something to eat, he must be hungry.” The youngest curtsied and left the room as Suffolk sat down. “What happened?” she repeated to him.
“It was the last stop of the summer progress, the Earl of Northumberland’s place; there was a dinner and one of the dishes was mushrooms in sauce. It was between the King and the Lady Anne, she ate from it first, taking three and declaring the sauce perfect for them. The King ate one or two, then stepped away from the table as a messenger had arrived from the Duke of Norfolk on a matter the King had set for him; since the King was not at table, the next course was not served and the Lady Anne ate the rest of the mushrooms, perhaps four or five more.” He took the glass of wine handed to him by the lady-in-waiting, nodded, and took a drink. “Later in the night the Lady Anne was taken ill, she lingered in pain, able to keep nothing down for over a day and died the second day after eating the mushrooms. The King and others were ill as well, which is why there is a question; but your father did not eat as much as she, so he recovered.”
“And he believes it was deliberate?”
“The Earl once was pledged to the Lady Anne; his marriage is not happy. He has been taken to the tower, along with the ones who selected the mushrooms and prepared them.” A servant appeared with a plate of bread, cheese, and cold meat. Suffolk nodded his thanks and looked at the Princess. “Will you share with me?”
She shook her head, her expression remote. “I have always believed that God would show my father his error, but I never dreamed that this judgment would be visited upon her. How is my father?”
“He, like some of the others who only ate one or two pieces, is well now; Lady Rochford is said to have lost the child she was carrying. I was never ill, but the Earl himself was; I don’t think it was deliberate. My own cook refuses mushrooms because it’s hard to tell the delicious from the dangerous.” He took a bite of cheese. “His Majesty believes Percy poisoned himself to detract from the attempt on his life; that he wanted Anne for himself and thought to annul his unhappy marriage and wed her.”
“You think it was not the judgment of God?” The Princess’ tone made it clear that she did.
Suffolk shrugged. “I told you what I thought; the woman who picked them was doing it by herself for the first time – the one who usually went with her was busy preparing for the arrival of the King. Whether God used her hands for his purpose is for a priest to decide, not me.” He returned to eating, pouring himself more wine from the bottle the lady had brought.
Mary rose and motioned for him to remain seated when he began to rise. “I will prepare for leaving, when do we return to court?”
“When you are ready, the King will not arrive until the end of the week, even if they travelled as proposed before I left them. And my advice, even though you have not asked it, is that you coming in mourning,” he reminded. “Your father will think well of you if you do not remind him you were no friend to Lady Anne.”
Mary nodded. “Mourning, French mourning, I will be able to tell you on the morrow when we will be ready.” She turned and left the room before he could respond with anything but a nod of acknowledgement. The ladies followed her out, whispering furiously among themselves.