Well, quite. People should have guessed Nora was up for an important role *somewhere* when I made a point of weaving her in. Here we go!
A Queen Twice Over: Mary Tudor the Elder Marries Francis I of France
- Thread starter FalconHonour
- Start date
I think those ain't terrible, after all lots of men had mistresses, and Mary probably will tolerate it also. Maybe that's not the best life, but he could end up worse.
Well, exactly. And from Mary's point of view, if Sawney is going to take a mistress, at least it's a girl whose loyalty she can trust implicitly. She'll know Nora's not going to push herself forward at Mary's expense. She's not going to hurt Mary any more than she can help...
So they're all going to make the best of a bad situation...
Still, if Henry finds out about this, Bang! Zoom! To the Moon!
Really? Wouldn't he just see it as Alexander's right to take a mistress? He might think it a bit odd that Alexander has chosen a girl who looks quite so much like his Mary, but I'm not sure he'd take it as badly as everyone seems to think...
Were it anyone else, I might agree. But Mary is also Henry's daughter, flesh of his flesh, and he may take that as an assault on his pride. And we all know how Henry takes to assaults to his pride...
The the same Henry who is used to bed maids of honour of his wife? The one who placed more than one woman who piqued his interest in the household of his wife?
Henry will NOT. Is not like he expected Alexander to be faithful to Mary when they had never meet before the wedding and he is just a second best choice for her
I agree with FalconHonour and Isabella that Alexander's taking a mistress shouldn't be an insult to Henry, who's hardly in a position to criticise him, but on the other hand, Henry's pride might be a bit ruffled so yes, one could expect a reaction from him - maybe not too open though.
To be fair, I think my Henry has put them in his daughters' household since the story began, not his wife's, but the point still stands.
This.
Well, we still have Bessie Blount and possibly someone else, right? And surely putting them in the household of his daughters is NOT much better…To be fair, I think my Henry has put them in his daughters' household since the story began, not his wife's, but the point still stands.
This.
Well, if you want to get really controversial, you might even write threesome scene
I think Mary would draw the line at that. Instead, she'll emulate her Mother, and keep a blind eye where needed...Well, if you want to get really controversial, you might even write threesome scene
If Mary is anything like her mother, or OTL self, she is much too pious for that.Well, if you want to get really controversial, you might even write threesome scene
Less a blind eye and more a shut mouth. KOA knew of every mistress Henry had, but kept quiet.
Yeah, that's why I added controversial part (and that applies to @EdwardRex 's reply too) + that was intended to be kind of joke.
Section XCVII - July/August 1530
Mechelen, July 1530
The baby snuffles at Marguerite’s breast, and she feels triumph cresting within her as he latches on and begins to suck with gusto. Let her detractors speak against her now. Nine months ago, even seven, there were those who claimed that her missed courses were because of her advancing age rather than because she found herself with child for the fourth time in eight years. They kept repeating the slander, even as her belly swelled.
Even once she quickened, and it was impossible for them to deny the truth anymore, they wouldn’t let it rest, only switched to claiming that she was too old to bring forth a healthy child, that she was bound to have a miscarriage, or, worse, a stillbirth.
And look at her now. A healthy, squalling Duke of Burgundy, who, if his ferocious sucking and swallowing is anything to go by, will need two wet nurses to keep him sated.
Charles is delighted. He actually ran into her lying-in chambers this morning, which is unheard of for him. He spent several long moments just holding the boy, before saying, in a suspiciously thick voice, “Juan. We shall name him Juan, in honour of the uncle I never knew.”
And when Juan had dozed off, he sat with her for longer than he ever had before, regaling her with all the news she’s missed by being cooped up in these dim, private chambers. King Henry has finally begun searching for a new wife, it seems. Her brother has offered him his choice of Marie de Guise or either of the Duke of Vendome’s daughters, Marie and Marguerite, while the Protestant Princes have suggested the thirteen-year-old Lady Amalia of Cleves. The Lady Eleanor of Navarre is also under consideration, apparently, most likely at the behest of Madame de Valentinois. Her brother has always been far too soft and open-handed with the girls he adores.
Charles is mildly intrigued by his uncle’s marital adventures, but mostly annoyed that he doesn’t have a daughter to offer, or even a niece who can stand proxy.
“If only Dorothea were a year or two older, Margarita. I’m sure I could persuade Bella to send her to London. But Uncle Henry must be desperate for a son by now, after what happened to the Prince of Wales. He’s not going to look twice at a ten-year-old.”
“That might be just as well. All of Christendom knows how besotted King Henry is with Madame Warwick. After all, didn’t he even have her at his side when he received the Savoyard delegation to discuss Lady Elizabeth’s future a few months ago? I can’t see Bella being willing to send her daughter to a Court with such a blatant uncrowned Queen at its head.”
“Well, yes. But still. It’s embarrassing. Lina tells me that the Ferranese are preparing to offer her sister-in-law. The Ferranese! And we can’t even muster a proxy. It’s scandalous, I tell you!”
A knock at the door startles Marguerite out of her reverie. A young maid pokes her head round the frame.
“Your pardon, Madame. But Madame de Cröy is wondering if His Grace is ready to meet his sisters? Their Highnesses are outside and asking to see Your Imperial Majesty.”
Marguerite smiles gently at the young girl. The newer maids never can understand how she can tolerate Anne de Cröy’s self-appointed role as her Chief Lady of the Bedchamber. Perhaps if she were more in love with Charles, or had grown up somewhere other than the French Court, she’d hate it too. But as it is, it makes Charles happy to see the most important women in his life rubbing along together and it’s little enough bother for her. Besides, she and Anne came to an understanding years ago, once it became clear that Phillip was likely to survive infancy. Marguerite doesn’t question Anne’s occasional presumptuousness, and Anne never strays anywhere close to truly blatant disrespect.
“It’s all right, Marijolein, I’ll see them. Send them in.”
Marijolein curtsies and withdraws. Marguerite rearranges herself and little Juan against the pillows, groaning softly at the pull of exhausted muscles as she does so, then pastes a smile on her face for the sake of the girls. Cata and Isa deserve nothing less.
Coldharbour, August 1530
Diane closes the door of her solar, shutting out the children’s playful shrieks. She can’t afford to be disturbed. Not while she’s doing this.
She turns to her desk and stifles a groan.
It has been three months since she started letting the word that Henry was ready to wed again leak out to the rest of Christendom, and in that time, her lover has been inundated with offers, offers he has instructed his chief ministers, More and Cromwell, to pass directly to her on pain of death.
Diane sighs. She loves that Henry trusts her so implicitly, but sometimes she wishes he didn’t.
But she can’t put the choice off much longer, so she pulls the stack towards her and begins to peruse the suggested brides.
Eleanor of Navarre goes straight in the discard pile. Not because of her birth, or because of her age – at twenty, she’s more than old enough to be a wife and mother – but because it’s blatantly obvious that King Francis has only offered her hand to please the young Duchess of Valentinois. [1] Lady Isabella is more secure than ever in the French King’s affections, having given him a son, and clearly, she’s getting greedy, pushing her siblings forward for grander matches than they truly deserve, given her eldest brother’s terrible fortunes on the field of war.
But while King Francis might be willing to pander to her, Diane knows Henry will not. He has too great a sense of pride to be willing to accept his brother’s paramour’s sister as his wife. Not to mention that, if Lady Isabella, just seventeen, is willing to be so loose with her virtue and morals, then who’s to say that her older sister would be any better? How could Henry ever be sure that any Prince she gave him was truly his? No. If Henry wants a wife who is truly above suspicion, he’ll not find it in Lady Eleanor.
King Francis’s other suggestion, the Lady Marie of Guise, is more promising, except for the fact that she’s only a Duke’s daughter, and not even a sovereign Duke at that. Henry is going to want a Princess if he can get one.
Besides, he’s been grumbling for a while now that the French ought to have made more of an effort to compensate him for the loss of his Italian interests after the death of young Lord Orleans, rather than simply investing Lord Jean and betrothing him to Princess Isabella of Poland before Lord Orleans’s body was even cold.
Couple that with the humiliation that Henry’s sister faces every day, with Lady Isabella swanning about as King Francis’s acknowledged lady love and uncrowned Queen, and Henry is far from fond of anything French at the moment. Except for Diane herself, of course. But then, she hasn’t even been near France for nigh on eight years. She’s almost as English as she is French by this point, especially with her English lands.
Why, he was even muttering about joining forces with Emperor Charles to reclaim Milan and Charles’s lost ancestral lands, betrothing little Cecily to young Lord Burgundy, and pushing for the two children to inherit Milan as well as Burgundy.
Diane doesn’t think they’ll manage it. The French have put too much into holding Milan to lose it now. But that doesn’t mean Henry shouldn’t have an Italian foothold if he wants one. The Duke of Ferrara’s eldest daughter, Eleonora, is newly fifteen, after all. And with the ducal heir married to Catherine of Austria, it could even be argued that wedding Eleonora would provide Henry with a new accord with the Hapsburgs, if he wants to effect one.
The only question, Diane muses, is whether Eleonora d’Este could be brought to accept Diane’s own presence in Henry’s life. For, whomever Henry marries, she’ll have to be willing to look the other way, at least to a degree.
Oh, Diane knows Henry has to marry again, and she’d never try and stop him, but, God forgive her, she won’t give him up entirely. She can’t. She loves him too much for that.
Diane is pondering the charms of Eleonora d’Este when it hits her. The perfect candidate has been staring her in the face for ages. Indeed, they’ve been doing so from within the depths of her own family. Her great-aunt had had two daughters, Anne and Madeleine. Anne married the Duke of Albany and died childless back in 1524, but Madeleine, the Duchess of Urbino, left behind her a single daughter, Catherine, who is now not only the Duchess claimant to Urbino, but Countess of Auvergne and Boulogne to boot.
Catherine is awfully young, it’s true – she won’t even be of age to marry until April – which is an issue. Diane knows Henry has a horror of girls being made mothers too young after what happened to his lady grandmother, so he won’t be thrilled at taking a twelve-year-old as his bride. But she’s fairly sure he’ll swallow it for the sake of wedding a French Countess twice over. The County of Boulogne will enable him to secure his hold on the enlarged Pale of Calais he won back in 1521, and well, who could resist lush, fertile Auvergne? Henry will no doubt see himself as a new Plantagenet conqueror if he can seize and hold Auvergne in right of his wife. Moreover, Catherine’s claims to Urbino will give Henry the excuse he needs to do what he’s been itching to do for months and try to assert himself within the Italian peninsula.
From Diane’s own perspective, too, Catherine is an ideal Queen. She’s been raised in a series of convents for the past few years, if Diane’s memory serves her correctly, meaning she’s bound to be very sheltered as well as very young. She won’t know that it isn’t normal for a King to have an influential mistress alongside his actual Queen. No doubt she’ll look up to her sophisticated older cousin, who has honoured her by handpicking her as King Henry’s bride. Diane will be able to mould Catherine, to shape her into the kind of woman Henry likes, and, more importantly, into the kind of woman who would never dream of moving against her husband’s beloved children, no matter what the circumstances of their birth. And, of course, Henry will give Catherine her own children to worry about. There’s no doubt of that. He’s already fathered seven children, how could he fail to father more with a young, fertile girl in his bed?
Diane nods decidedly to herself and hums merrily as she draws a fresh sheet of parchment towards herself. Pope Clement is Catherine’s uncle and guardian. If Catherine is to be Henry’s wife and Queen, then he is the one Diane will have to persuade of the benefits of an English alliance.
[1] Eleanor of Navarre is TTL's Charles of Navarre, who has been genderbent as @Victoria suggested, to give our Duchess of Valentinois a sister three years older that she can push at Henry, a la Elizabeth Woodville, Anthony Woodville and Mary of Burgundy.
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