Richmond Palace, England. 2nd of November, 1523.
The King was nervous.
Isabella could see it in his eyes, the way he stood, checking the door every few minutes. He was nervous about what was to happen. He was very nervous.
The idea of it made her almost smile. From the stories told by her brother’s English ambassador, the King of England seemed a strong and confident man who ruled his lands with an iron fist. Certainly, he tried to convey that image, though she had quickly learned that the person underneath him was still very much the little boy hiding under his father’s large shadow, too scared to speak something wrong lest he be punished. This endeared him to her, made her feel more at ease.
A month before, she had met him in secret as Sir Hal Fitzroy, who came to look at her without the constraints of an official meeting. A week after that, they were married in Westminster Abbey, with a long and rather pleasurable consummation afterwards. Though the King has yet to come out of his shell near her, Isabella liked to think he liked her already. She was his Queen, the new mother of his children, and they were a family.
As her husband paced and walked the length of her chambers, nervous, she stood up and came up to his side. Boldly, Isabella laced their fingers together, smiling. “I’m so nervous,” she murmured, though she wasn’t. She thought it would help him calm down if he thought she was as anxious about the matter as he was. If he could comfort her before she could comfort him.
King Henry let out a visible breath, his shoulders relaxing. “Don’t be,” he said, “You have nothing to worry about.”
“What if they don’t like me?” she whispers.
He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. “There is not a bone in you worthy of dislike, my dear.” Her cheeks flushed and she smiled.
The doors to her room opened and one of her English ladies stepped in, curtsying when she saw the royal couple. It was Maud Parr, who had once served as one of her aunt’s ladies, and who Isabella had insisted on serving her as well.
“They have arrived, Your Majesties,” said Maud and Henry nodded, waving to send them in.
Minutes passed where they did nothing, only staring at each other and Isabella smiling. He was so shy, so withdrawn. It made her want to coax him out with kisses and embraces, though they couldn’t do such a thing then, considering who they were soon to meet.
Then, when the wait almost became too much, the doors opened again and three women came in inside. The first held the hand of a very small little girl, while the door two held two babies in their arms, bouncing their little bodies to keep them quiet.
Henry took her hand and led her to them, smiling wide. “Dear Isabella, may I introduce you to those whom you will have to share my heart with: my children,” he said, happiness clear in his voice. “Princesses Mary and Katherine and my pride and joy, Prince John."
Isabella’s eyes naturally went to the eldest. Princess Mary made a curtsy for her father, though her face kept its seriousness. She was wearing a green dress with white ribbons, the Tudor colours, and a red French hood over her auburn hair. Her eyes were of a deep blue and she had ruddy cheeks, a trait inherited from her father.
Then she looked at the babies, the twins, John and Katherine. Though they were born at the same time, John was significantly larger than Katherine, whom everyone said was rather sickly. Whereas John was chubby and healthy around the cheeks and belly, Katherine seemed awfully small, with blue shadows around her eyes, as if she had not slept well. The Queen’s heart broke at the sight.
The twins both had their father’s and sister’s red hair, though Katherine’s fell in pretty ringlets around her face whereas her brother’s had rather straight locks, falling into his eyes. John’s eyes were lively sky blue, while his sister’s were significantly darker, giving her a more interesting look, in Isabella’s opinion. They gurgled when they saw her, being too young to speak or do much, but a smile cut Katherine’s pink lips and she extended her hands forward, wanting to grab something of Isabella.
It was with much reluctance that she did not pick up the little girl and instead, turned her eyes to her oldest stepdaughter, who was still in a curtsy to the King. Isabella smiled and said, “Oh, aren’t you beautiful, Your Highness? And your dress is so well-made. I must have something done in its likeness, so we may match.” Though her English was not as it could be, Isabella was rather proud of not fumbling over her words and looked at Mary with eager anticipation.
But when she looked at her new stepmother, Mary did not share any of her enthusiasm. Her face was completely blank, serious. It made her pause.
“Mary,” Henry said. “Your mother has said something to you. Answer her.”
Princess Mary crossed her arms and tilted her chin up. The lady by her side, whom Isabella noticed to be her governess, Lady Salisbury, pulled her hand. “Princess Mary, answer the Queen!”
“She is not the Queen!” Mary responded in a shriek, crossing her arms again. “And she is not my mother!”
Henry’s face flushed red and Isabella put a hand to her mouth, shocked. She looked at her ladies, Maud in particular, hoping to have misunderstood the English. But the expression on Lady Parr’s face tells her what she needs to know.
“Mary,” the King said again, careful. “Apologize to your mother in this instant or I swear…”
Mary did not allow him to continue, interrupting him with a shout, “She is not my mother! I want my real mother! I want Queen Catherine!” Lady Salisbury pulled her hand again, but Mary, with red cheeks, stomped on her foot. Though the princess was rather small, Lady Salisbury gasped as did Isabella, shocked at what was happening, though the Lady Salisbury did nothing to nurse her certainly aching foot, mindful of the King’s presence.
“Mary!” Henry admonished and his daughter didn’t even look at him as she turned to run away. Before she could, however, Henry let go of Isabella’s hand and picked her up easily, hands on her arms. He set her on the ground and picked up her hand, shaking it slightly. “Apologize to Lady Salisbury and your mother, now!”
“No!” Mary repeated. The twins, scared at their sister’s antics, widened their eyes and began to cry.
Henry’s face flushed, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Lady Salisbury stepped in and picked up Mary’s other hand, “Your Majesty, I beg for forgiveness for the Princess’ behaviour. Please, she is nothing like this.”
“No, she isn’t,” Henry agreed, looking up at Isabella for barely a second before returning his eyes to his daughter. “Remove her from my sight immediately. I find myself unable to look at someone who has so offended me.” He let go of his daughter’s hand and stepped back next to Isabella, breathing harshly.
“No!” Mary cried, as Lady Salisbury began to pull her away. “No! I hate her! I will not apologize! I hate her!”
Unless he lost/was forced to give it to Henry after Anne’s marriage to Charles
