Coldharbour, October 1524
“Diane, he’s beautiful!” Henry gazes down at the baby in his arms, enraptured by every inch of him. From the soft red fuzz that covers his scalp to his blue-grey eyes and his long toes, every bit of the boy is Tudor. Indeed, to Henry, the only way he could be more perfect is if he were a Prince of Wales.
No sooner has the thought crossed his mind than Henry shakes his head. Mary’s still young. They’ll have a son soon enough.
And in the meantime, nothing will be allowed to spoil this idyllic moment.
“Charles and Lord Shrewsbury have already agreed to be godfathers. And Charles has suggested Edmund as a name, after my grandfather and brother. Would that please you, sweetheart?”
“If it pleases you, Henry, it pleases me,” Diane is more tired than she ever remembers being in her life, but she musters the energy to raise her head to her lover and smile at him, “Could Mistress Champernowne be godmother? She’s been such a good friend to me during my confinement.”
Henry shrugs. He’s been planning to ask Denny’s wife to stand as sponsor, or maybe Lady Worcester, but if Diane’s taken a liking to young Katherine…it’s a small enough thing to grant her.
“Of course, darling,” He leans over to kiss her, noting with slight alarm just
how wan and exhausted she looks, “If that’s what you want. Now, rest. You need your strength back so that I can make you a Duchess, just like I promised.”
As if his words have given her permission, Diane slumps back on her copious cushions and is out like a light.
Henry lingers by her bedside a little longer, cherishing the weight of their new-born son in his arms.
Richmond, October 1524
“You agreed to stand as sponsor to the harlot’s whelp? You
agreed?!”
Mary Talbot glares at her father, so furious she can barely speak.
“The King didn’t exactly give me much choice,
Madam!” George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury snarls back, barely restraining himself from sneering his daughter’s Christian name, let alone her title, “His Grace made it very clear that, given what a disappointment Your Grace has been to him so far, it would well behove the rest of us Talbots to prove ourselves more biddable.”
“You’re my
father! You, of all people, should stand up for me, not go begging for crumbs off the French hussy’s table!”
“Well,
you should have given the King a son at the first time of trying! That’s what you promised him. But you didn’t! You didn’t, and now I’m left scrambling to keep this family afloat, while you do nothing but throw tantrums over the fact that your husband finds more pleasure in another woman’s bed than he does in yours. Has it occurred to you, even for an
instant, that our sovereign lord might respect you more if he saw you shut your eyes and endure, as the Princess Dowager always did? If he saw you even
attempt to care about your daughter, about the country, about
anything other than your own blasted pride?”
Colour flares in Mary’s cheeks at her father’s words. Her lips go white and she presses them together sharply.
“My husband needs a son,” she says bitterly, “That’s all he cares about. You mark my words, the moment I put a Prince of Wales in the cradle, he’ll drop his harlot so fast, it’ll be as though he’s never laid eyes on her. A son will bring him back to me, Papa, and bind us together so tightly that he will never stray again!”
“You naïve fool,” George scoffs under his breath, “Nothing will ever keep the King from straying.”
Aloud, however, he merely shrugs, “So you say, Madam. But, pray tell me, when will this mythical son of yours be born? Do you have a date for me, or are you clutching at straws as always?”
“April!” Mary throws the word at him triumphantly. She says nothing more, merely looks at him, daring him to slander or countermand her.
Not for the first time, George bites back an oath, knowing it is more than he dare to curse in front of his Queen. Instead, he merely turns on his heel without waiting to be dismissed. And while he won't curse his daughter, he won't let her have the last word. Not this time.
“Make sure you eat every bit of asparagus you can lay your hands on. This family cannot afford another failure.”