Oh, just throw me under the bus, why don't you!
No, no, it's fine. I did suggest it. We subsequently realised in discussions that, given the situation, it's probably the most likely outcome...
A Queen Twice Over: Mary Tudor the Elder Marries Francis I of France
- Thread starter FalconHonour
- Start date
No, no, it's fine. I did suggest it. We subsequently realised in discussions that, given the situation, it's probably the most likely outcome...
You've already admitted you're the devil on my shoulder!! I may as well take advantage occasionally.
I'll see what I can do.
Section CXIX - July 1534
Holyrood, July 1534
“You love Sawney, don’t you?”
Mary’s words fall like stones into the silent nursery. Nora, who has been rocking the placid Lady Margaret to sleep, starts and twists to look at her.
“Mary…”
Before the older blonde can get any further, Mary holds up a hand to silence her.
“Don’t, Nora. Just don’t. I defended you to your father, for heavens’ sake. Don’t even think of lying to me.”
Nora winces, but nods in agreement, “I owe you that much.”
She drops her eyes, and in that moment, Mary knows her horrible suspicions are true.
“You do, don’t you? And he loves you.”
Despite the fact that Mary has already guessed, Nora still has difficulty admitting it. After four years of doing everything she can to hide her feelings, the words stick in her craw. Eventually, she sucks in a reluctant breath, screws her courage to the sticking place and nods, so quickly Mary would miss it if she wasn’t looking for it.
“I always have. Right from the very first time he came to England and you sent me out to the gardens.”
Nora doesn’t want to cry in front of Mary. She knows she doesn’t deserve to. But she can’t quite keep her emotions in check, either. Her voice trembles as she speaks, and the hand she still has on Margaret’s cradle is white around the knuckles. She flashes her eyes up to meet Mary’s and then immediately averts her gaze, knowing her sister will be able to see the tears she is fighting to keep from spilling over.
Watching Nora struggle, Mary’s heart is in her boots. She doesn’t know what to do. Were this anyone but Nora, she’d rip the woman’s head off for daring to lay claim to her husband.
But it is Nora. They’ve been like sisters since they could walk. And it’s not exactly as though the older girl has been blatant about her affection for Sawney.
Quite the opposite, in fact. She’s served as Mary’s Chief Lady of the Bedchamber for over four years without letting on even once. Indeed, had Thomas Boleyn not come to Dingwall and let the cat out of the bag, Mary doubts she’d ever have guessed that Nora was carrying a torch for Sawney. And that’s saying something, given how much she, Mary, has thrown the two of them together over the years. The amount of time Nora has had to spend with Sawney, on her own… It must have been torture for her.
Christ, Nora even nursed her through her lingering weakness after the twins were born, faithful and stalwart as always. She never gave even the slightest hint that she might have wanted anything other than for Mary to get better and resume her lawful place at Sawney’s side.
And of course, there is Sawney himself to consider.
“He loves you too.” Mary forces herself to repeat the awful words. They come out in a heavy whisper, and she has to sink into the rocking chair by Robert’s cradle before the horror makes her legs go from under her.
Nora starts to splutter a denial, but Mary shakes her head, “Don’t, Nora. Please. I saw the way he looked at you when you were dancing with Lord Albany last night. He’s never looked at me like that, not even when we’re making love. “
The despairing resignation in Mary’s tone wrenches at Nora’s heart. Despite everything, she can’t stop herself from reaching out for the younger blonde.
“Mary… You have to believe me. Neither of us either wanted to hurt you. I promise. It’s just… You can’t help where Cupid’s arrow lands.”
“Did yours have to land on my husband?”
Mary flings the retort back, lashing out instinctively, but even as she speaks, she feels some of her fury ebbing away. Nora looks so devastated that Mary is sure, that whatever else happened, she is telling the truth when she pleads that she never intended to fall for Sawney.
“This is why you wouldn’t marry anyone I offered you, isn’t it? You didn’t want to leave Sawney.”
The gentleness in her words startles Nora, Mary can tell. The older girl’s blonde curls bob sharply as her head jerks upwards and she stares at Mary.
She doesn’t speak, but Mary knows Nora inside out, so the look in her eyes is honesty enough. The young Duchess can read the yes from across the room.
A beat of silence passes.
Two.
“What are we going to do?”
“I could go back to England, or go to Anne in France,” Nora offers, but Mary shakes her head.
“You can’t go back to England, or France. Your reputation’s in tatters as it is, and if I send you away, then we’re only going to be adding fuel to the fire. I hate to say it, given the circumstances, but you need my protection. I need to keep you close, so that we don’t give the scandalmongers even more reason to talk. Besides, I need you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. You saw how frosty Louise was towards me. And Jamie clearly adores her, so long do you think it’ll be before the rest of Court decides it’s in their better interests to turn against me too, even if I have secured the House of Stewart with Robert and Maggie? I need you, you and Susan both. You’re mine, not Scotland’s.”
A thought strikes Mary then, and she cuts Nora a searching glance.
“You are mine, I suppose? You haven’t transferred your loyalties to Sawney or some other Scottish paymaster?”
“Of course not!” Nora cries. “I love Sawney, but you’re my sister! That’s an entirely different kettle of fish!”
Her exclamation startles the babies, who both begin to fuss in their dozing sleep. Flushing, she bends over the cribs hastily, patting Maggie until she subsides back into slumber and then crooning to the more awake Robert until, snuggled deep beneath his lambswool blanket, he too realises there is nothing to cry about, and goes properly back to sleep.
Mary watches Nora mollify the babies without a word. Only when they have both quietened does she speak again.
“Strangely, I find I believe you, Nora. Despite everything, I don’t think you’d lie to me about something like this. Which means we are going to have to come to some sort of arrangement.”
She pauses, eyes on her infant son. When she speaks again, her voice is no more than a whisper.
“We have to. I saw what it did to Lillibet, watching Papa and Queen Mary fight all the time. I won’t have that happening to my children. I won’t.”
Soft though her words are, her determination echoes around the room. Nora hears it and feels it swell in her own breast.
“We will,” she promises, just as quietly.
Mary nods. Any other woman, any other courtier, she’d be far less sure of, but Nora she trusts. With her life, with her children’s lives.
Speaking of which… She reaches across Maggie’s cradle, sliding her hand into Nora’s, so that the other woman looks up at her.
“If anything ever happens to me, I want you to take him. I want you to be Bobby and Maggie’s mother.”
“Mary!” Nora only just manages to stifle her cry of horror enough not to wake the babies a second time. She says no more, but her waxen cheeks tell their own story.
Mary knows she is terrifying Nora, but she also knows she has no choice but to persist. She’ll never rest easy if she doesn’t.
“You heard what the doctors said. If I ever fall pregnant again, I’ll not survive. And I can’t see Sawney and I abstaining from sex forever, not with the House of Stewart so fragile.”
“Yes, you can! I’ll share Sawney’s bed. If it keeps you alive, I’ll gladly have your children for you!”
Nora pleads with Mary, but the other girl is adamant, “Jamie won’t be able to consummate his marriage with Louise for at least another couple of years, not if he wants to keep her safe. The House of Stewart needs legitimate heirs, not bastards. But another child will most likely kill me, so…” Mary spreads her hands and shrugs, determined to be nonchalant, or at least, as nonchalant as any eighteen-year-old discussing her own mortality can be, “I’m not saying it will happen. Goodness knows it took me three years to conceive, so I may not fall with child again before Louise is old enough to bear Jamie’s children. But if it does, I want you to marry Sawney. I’d rather it was you than anyone. You’ll make each other happy and I trust you to raise Bobby and Maggie as your own. Please, say you will.”
Nora doesn’t know what to say. Despite everything she and Mary have shared over the years, she doesn’t think there are any words good enough for this particular moment.
In the end, she simply jumps to her feet, circles the cradles and flings herself to her knees in front of Mary.
Still on her knees, she throws her arms around Mary’s waist and holds her, breathing in the other woman’s scent. She tries to put everything she can’t find the words to say into the firm, desperate embrace.
She can only hope it will be enough.
Last edited:
Aww so sweet, I just hope Nora won't have to take Mary's place one day, even if she has her blessing.
This is one of those conversations that you have at this age, never dreaming you might actually need them...
Well, we'll see, won't we? The next chapter is the last of the royal births to take place in 1534, I do know that much.
I knew you'd like this chapter. You were right, the conversation had to happen some day.
She's her mother's daughter as much as she is her father's, luckily for Nora.
Mary herself said who she is worried to die because the doctors told her who another pregnancy and childbirth would most likely kill her as she was Lucky to have survived to this one. Explain me how people could say who Alexander or Eleanor are responsible for that…