18th of February, 1524.
Hever Castle, England. 18th of February, 1524.
“I’m so glad we could finally be together,” Isabella said in the chilly afternoon, sitting down before her stepdaughter with a large smile on her face. “It’s not every day a girl turns eight.”
Princess Mary, seated at a chair before her, didn’t say anything, hands on the arms of her chair, face twisted into a scowl. Isabella did not let her silence get to her and tried to smile even brighter, waving at the food before them, sprawling over the tables. There were cakes, candied jams, pies, sweetmeats and much more. The cooks had worked hard to prepare such a feast for the little girl and despite the longing in her face, Mary did nothing that could indicate she wanted to eat. She didn’t move at all, or open her mouth, refusing to show Isabella that she was willing to compromise.
The Queen tried not to let that get to her. She smiled even more and had one of her maids serve her a piece of cake and she ate it with brightness in her eyes, watching as Mary stared at the sweets before her with a hunger in her eyes. Such a stubborn child she was, Isabella thought, cleaning her face of crumbs. But she would find a way to coax her walls apart, to convince her to let Isabella into her life. She would find a way to make Mary love her.
She drank a sip of watered-down wine and said, “Do you know something, my dear?” Mary took a deep breath and said or did nothing to indicate she had heard. Isabella tried to smile even brighter and she could feel her ladies looking at them, observing the situation with slight grimaces. She would not let that deter her. “You were named after my most beloved mother, Queen Maria.”
Mary made a face but quickly smoothed down her expression, tilting her chin up. “Papa said I was named after my aunts, the Queen of France and the Queen of Portugal.”
Isabella smiled even brighter. “That’s right,” she said. “My mother was the Queen of Portugal until she died.”
“Your mother was my lady aunt?” Mary asked and Isabella felt a weight lift itself off her shoulders and chest, letting her breathe properly for the first time in many weeks. It was the first her stepdaughter spoke to her of her own volition.
“Oh yes,” she said. “My mother was Maria of Aragon.”
Mary’s expression smoothed down and a slight tingle lit up in her eyes. “My mother was from Aragon,” she said, slightly awed by the similarities in their stories. “Her father was King Ferdinand and her mother was Queen Isabella.”
“I know,” said Isabella. She smiled. “My mother’s mother was Queen Isabella too and her father was King Ferdinand. Our mothers were sisters and that makes us cousins.”
“Cousins?” Mary asked, slightly confused. “I didn’t know…”
“No one told you?” Isabella murmured and the princess shook her head. She let out a sigh and felt her eyes going to Lady Salisbury, who stood to the side as she watched her charge. The Countess averted her gaze, almost ashamed. She turned back to her stepdaughter.
“I knew I had cousins in Portugal,” admitted the princess, “And I also knew Your Majesty came from Portugal but I never…” Her cheeks flushed and she dropped her gaze. “I didn’t know those were related.”
Isabella smiled and stood up again, coming to stand behind Mary. She knelt slightly, hearing her ladies gasp as she did so, and put her face at eye level with her stepdaughter, her cousin. “Do you understand what that means, dear?”
“No, Your Majesty,” said Mary, frowning.
“It means that even if I was not married to your lord father, we’d still be family,” she said, slowly. This could go wrong very fast. “It means that even if you can’t love me like a mother, you can still love me as your cousin.”
“I… I…”
“It’s hard to lose a mother, especially when you are young,” said Isabella. “I know the pain well. When my mother died, I was only fourteen and I was heartbroken. I wondered what I had done to be punished in such a way.” She sighed, thinking about what to say. “I will never attempt to replace your mother,” she said. “I am only here to provide your brother and father with a measure of happiness and love, so that they may enjoy the same love Queen Catherine once gave them. John will never know your mother as you do, but that doesn’t mean he cannot have a mother in his life.”
Mary’s lower lip wobbled and she saw as her stepdaughter bit her inner cheek to stop herself from crying. “I asked the Lord for a brother in my prayers,” she admitted in a low voice. “I asked for it every day, but I never meant for… for mama to…”
“I understand how hard that must be,” said Isabella, cooing softly. “You mustn’t blame yourself, my dear.” She licked her lips, trying to think of something, anything. “It’s not your fault. It’s not John or Katherine’s fault.”
“I thought she would come back,” said Mary. “I thought that if I was very good and ate all my greens, she would come back, but you arrived and she would not like to be replaced. I know it so.”
“No one likes to be replaced,” Isabella agreed. “But she is not coming back. She is with the Lord now and we may only see her when we go meet our Maker as well.”
Mary pouted and looked away, tears flooding her blue eyes. “I know,” she said, “But I thought…” She doesn’t finish it.
Minutes pass where they don’t speak at all and then, an idea comes to Isabella. “How about this, Mary? We will have a new beginning. I understand it’s still hard to love me as your new mother, but we are cousins. We can love each other as cousins, can we not?”
Slowly, Mary nodded and a large smile cut the Queen’s lips.
“So, you do not need to call me Your Majesty anymore, or mother,” said the Queen. “You can call me by my name, or you may call me ‘cousin’. Does that feel like something you can do?”
“Yes,” Mary said. “Yes, cousin.”
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