A Queen Twice Over: Mary Tudor the Elder Marries Francis I of France
- Thread starter FalconHonour
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Thank you ❤Poor, poor Marie and Francis.
Still, a beautifully written chapter.
Light relief? Madam, we devised to smash a child's head open! I'm not sure how there can be "light relief" from that!
What, Mary, Meg and Nora discussing how recent events have changed Mary's future isn't lighter than what we've just had?
((comes crashing in))
Well... this has been a ride and a half! Looking forward to more @FalconHonour !!!
Well... this has been a ride and a half! Looking forward to more @FalconHonour !!!
Section LXXIII - April 1528
Lisbon, April 1528
Joao exhales slowly, setting down King Francis’s letter. Exasperation wells in him and he stamps it down. It’s no one’s fault. No one could have known this would happen. And of course Margarida must help her father mourn her brother in a seemly manner, if her mother is indisposed.
Luis and Isabella, who are playing chess by the fire, sit up at his exhalation.
“Bad news, brother?” Luis asks amiably and Joao nods heavily.
“The Duke of Orleans has died in a riding accident. The French have gone into mourning and Margarida is delaying her departure for Lisbon. Quite apart from the rigours of mourning, it appears Queen Marie has taken her son’s death very badly. King Francis wants Margarida to remain in France to take her mother’s place at the head of the Court for the next few months.”
“Poor child,” Luis crosses himself and Isabella follows suit, though she glowers blackly at the mention of the French. She always does. She has done since the Emperor married Duchess Marguerite instead of her.
“Perfidious weasels. First they force my darling Charles to repudiate me, and now they refuse to honour their promises to you into the bargain. Is there no end to their treachery?!”
“Isabella!” Joao snaps. “That’s unfair and unchristian of you and you know it. No one could ever have envisaged that the Duke of Orleans would die a month before Margarida was due to sail. The French aren’t refusing to honour the treaty we signed. They’re just setting their obligations aside for a while, and with good reason. Or would you rather I didn’t mourn you, were our positions reversed?”
Joao knows his words are harsh, but he doesn’t apologise for them, not even when Isabella goes white. She’s never been reasonable where the French are concerned.
He takes a deep breath and forces himself to speak more calmly, “In some ways, this delay is a good thing. While I feel for King Francis and Queen Marie in losing their son, it means Margarida will be a bit older when she comes, more ready to be a mother. That can only be to our advantage, surely? But, Luis…” Joao pauses and waits for his younger brother to look him in the eye, “If my marriage is to be delayed for another year or so, then we ought to look more seriously at finding a match for you. You are my heir, after all.”
Luis grimaces at the thought of losing his bachelorhood, but he sees the sense in Joao’s words. He digs his fingers into his thick red hair – a sure sign of his frustration – but then cedes the point.
“As you wish, brother. For Portugal’s sake.”
Hunsdon, April 1528
“Black really doesn’t suit you, Mary,” Meg Douglas remarks, as she helps her royal cousin settle her black swansdown cape on her shoulders, “It drains you of all colour. Nora’s the same, it just makes her look ill.”
“I don’t think black suits anyone, Meg,” Mary replies archly, “But our brother and cousin are both dead, so needs must.”
“Well…it sets my hair off rather nicely,” Meg smirks, tossing her bright head in illustration, before she sobers, “Do you mind?”
Mary turns to her older cousin, peering searchingly at her. “Do I mind? What do you mean, Meg?”
“Henri’s death. Do you mind? I mean, not because he’s our cousin, but because…” Meg pauses, trying to get her thoughts in order before she continues, “You’ve known since we were four that you were going to be Henri’s Duchess when we all came of age, and now it’s suddenly been ripped away from you. And George only died in December. Your future’s changed so much in the last four months. I don’t know how you’re coping. I couldn’t imagine not marrying Henry, not after it’s been arranged for so long.”
Meg bites the inside of her cheek as she finishes and Mary shrugs, spreading her hands.
“Of course I regret Henri’s death. He was our cousin and I was engaged to marry him. He and I would most likely have ruled England together, if Papa didn’t have another heir, and Milan would definitely have been ours. I was looking forward to having a Court of my own. But, on the other hand, there was clearly nothing anyone could have done. All the eyewitnesses seem to agree that Henri’s death was nothing more than a terrible accident caused by his pony spooking. So why lose sleep over it? It’s not like it was a conspiracy or anything. Besides, I doubt Papa will leave me unattached for long. I’m too valuable a chess piece on his diplomatic board for that now that I’m of age. In fact, I’ll bet you half an angel that he’ll have found me a new husband and be in talks to affiance us before the year’s out, if you like.”
“Will it be Jean, do you think? After all, it’s been done before, a girl marrying two brothers,” Meg looks meaningfully at Mary, but before Mary can answer, Nora enters the room behind her, carrying an armful of embroidery silks.
“I doubt it,” she interrupts, “Mary’s six years older than little Lord Angouleme, and we all know how much trouble King Henry’s marriage to a bride six years older than him caused.”
Mary’s jaw drops open at Nora’s words and the older girl whirls round to face her, apology clear in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Mary, but you know it’s true. As much as I love you, your cousin Eleanor would have made a much better bride for your father than the Dowager Princess. At least that’s what my father always says. But don’t worry. I’m sure your father loves you too much to put you in the position of being a much older bride, especially given you have other cousins.”
“Like my brothers!” Meg perks up at this, “Oh Mary! Say you’ll ask your father to let you marry Jamie or Sawney. I’d love to have you as a sister!”
She clasps her hands and looks at Mary pleadingly, her big blue eyes wide.
“You already are my sister, you ninny,” Mary chuckles fondly, pushing Meg lightly, “You know I’ve always considered both of you my sisters. Besides, Papa could always choose Luis or Duarte or Ferdinand of Portugal. He might well want to strengthen John of Gaunt’s old alliance, particularly now that Cousin Margot is going to be Queen of Portugal.”
Mary trails off, but the tension that had risen in the room at Nora’s mild denunciation of Mary’s parents marriage is gone, dissolved in the wake of Meg’s dramatics. The three girls are the best of friends once more.
They button their black cloaks firmly around their throats against the unseasonable April chill and clatter down to the mews to fly their hawks in the gardens, laughing and joking as they go.
“Has your father said anything about a match for you, Nora?”
“How should I know? You know he never tells me anything. George was hinting that there might be a Somerset match in the offing, to make me a Countess like Anne. Or otherwise perhaps a Fitzgerald match, to secure lands and position for us in Ireland, so that it will be easier for Jamie to succeed his grandfather as Earl of Ormonde when the time comes, but I’ve no real idea.”
“Well you can’t marry William Somerset! He’s scarcely more than a baby! Thomas Fitzgerald wouldn’t be too bad, I suppose, but I won’t have you going to Ireland. If I have to leave Meg here to be Lady Surrey, then you’re coming with me, wherever I end up!”
Their high voices drift back to Lady Salisbury and she smiles wistfully. Nora will marry wherever it suits her father, as will Her Highness. Who knows what that will mean for their bond? Still, there’s no harm in letting them make their plans, not if it makes them happy. Heaven knows there’s been little enough happiness at Hunsdon over the past few months.
I was thinking about the young son of the Earl of Worcester. He's really far too young for Nora, but if Papa Boleyn wanted the Beaufort match...
Thomas Fitzgerald would be far more likely, though...
I'm sensing that Mary will be sent to Portugal for Luis actually... 
But maybe I'm reading too much into the fact that you paired these two sections together.
But maybe I'm reading too much into the fact that you paired these two sections together. 
Very fascinating to see how Henri's death shifts things in geopolitics. Forcing Luis to have to marry, while ensuring that Henry will look for grooms (and alliance) elsewhere via Mary's hand in marriage. The friendship between the three girls is also very touching, even if Nora could learn to be a bit more discreet with her opinions. Really good chapter, it's a nice break from some of the gloom in France.
Ah well, that would be spoilers, wouldn't it?I'm sensing that Mary will be sent to Portugal for Luis actually...
Well, she is a Boleyn. She wouldn't live up to the name if she didn't sail close to the wind on occasion 😂
Thanks, glad you enjoyed it!
Of course it would.
That said, I won't be too surprised if I'm wrong... and I'll have a heart attack and die from NOT-Surprise if I'm right. 
I'm still trying to recover from Marie's death, so I know the feel...
Oh Great. I'm afraid the next chapter will just turn the screw even harder. Sorry. But I promise it calms down thereafter!
Of course it would.
Jesus you’re evil!Oh Great. I'm afraid the next chapter will just turn the screw even harder. Sorry. But I promise it calms down thereafter!