Beginning in 1528

She realized that he was serious when she first heard of the upcoming trial. Henry, the love of her life, was planning to set her aside for that Boleyn girl, Anne. She could hardly believe it. Henry, who’d rescued her when she was planning to return to Spain in defeat, been her knight in shining armor and been with her throughout all the trials of their marriage: the numerous children God chose not to give them, their daughter Mary – her jewel – his elevation of his bastard son Henry FitzRoy; how could he ask this of her?


But Chupuys assured her that he was, indeed, petitioning the pope for the annulment of their marriage because of her prior wedding to Prince Arthur. She didn’t understand, although she and Arthur had tried, they had never consummated their union and Henry knew she had been a virgin when she came to his bed as bride.


She had choices, of course. But she doubted that her nephew would invade England to ensure Mary’s succession, no matter what. He’d already abandoned Mary once – when he voided the betrothal with her and now was taken up with struggles in the Holy Roman Empire he ruled. So, what to do? She would not admit to being the whore of Henry VIII. Her personal knowledge of the facts, duty to God and England, and last of all, pride, would not allow her to confirm such a lie; not in private nor in public.


Cardinal Compaggio arrived in England on the 8th of October, 1528 and first attempted to induce to act against her own and Mary’s interests by asked her to withdraw to a nunnery, allowing Henry to re-wed with honor. She had refused and countered by offering to comply if Henry entered orders as well; this she knew well her carnally-minded husband would refuse.


But then, a piece of news that changed everything: Mary Boleyn Carey, while married to her husband, had engaged in an affair with Henry. Confronted alone and without warning, she admitted to Compeggio that it was true: she had carnally known the King and even that it was possible he, not her husband, was the father of Catherine, her oldest child. The Cardinal informed the King of the news, and he (at first) denied it, but when two letters from him to her were revealed, he was forced to admit the truth of it. But, he maintained, that the true matter remained: he had married his brother’s wife and had been cursed because of it. He would be quit of Katherine of Aragon, the Dowager Princess of Wales. And he was still set on wedding Lady Anne Boleyn, claiming that it was adultery, not the incestuous situation he was caught up within. (He claimed that Mary’s confession to her priest and her penance to erased his adultery with her.)


Henry made a solemn vow in the presence of the Queen, Cardinals Campeggio and Wolsey, Thomas More and Bishop Fisher that he would never again sleep in the Queen’s rooms nor enjoy the use of her body. He then re-iterated that his marriage was cursed and childless, despite Mary’s birth; that a son was needed for England. News from the Pope arrived: with the information on the King’s adultery with Mary Boleyn Carey, no annulment on the basis given could be pronounced, as the new marriage would put the King in the same position. Henry swore to break with the church and, taking the reins of the church in England, pronounce his own annulment and wed Anne Boleyn, cutting off all ties with Spain and the Spanish Princess and her bastard offspring. It was that which started Katherine of Aragon thinking: how to keep her daughter from losing her inheritance completely.


As June began in 1529, Katherine knew he was serious, there was a spark in his eyes she recognized and, after consulting with Compeggio (she trusted not Wolsey), she made a counter-offer to her husband: She would withdraw to a convent under the following conditions: that Mary would remain legitimate and titled Princess as she was conceived in good faith (as both her parents believed the marriage to be valid at the time they wed); that Mary would wed as a Princess of the blood and remain ahead of any daughters born of any marriage Henry undertook after Katherine’s withdrawal, but any son would – per custom – precede her in succession. Katherine would not mention Mary Boleyn Carey and her perfidy publicly and not comment on any of the King’s subsequent marriages but would not be required to take oaths as a nun.


Henry balked, as Henry was wont. But Anne recognized the deal for what it was: a chance to change England from within and without the strife that further argument would cause. She urged him to accept the terms: she would present him with a son and Mary would wed abroad. Meanwhile, Princess Mary could keep her own house away from court. It would also prevent her sister’s indiscretion from being used against Anne should Henry change his mind after a few years of marriage.
 
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wrote this one after a back-and-forth on Katherine of Aragon's health, when I asked myself: under what circumstances might Katherine 'retire' from queenship. This the answer the voices gave.:winkytongue:
 
The sticking point proved to be the wording of the annulment. Henry was insistent that it be in recognition that he had incestuously married his brother’s wife, but Katherine insisted on two points: one, that the scripture applied to living brothers and not to brother’s widows and two, that since she and Arthur had not consummated the marriage – and she cited Henry VII’s failure to provide her with the widow’s jointure as proof – it did not apply in the first place. Pope Clement, after reviewing the case in its entirety, sent the annulment worded “in the King’s personal belief and conviction that” – which angered Henry as it made it seem (to him) that the Pope did not agree with him – but Anne urged him to accept it as the it was the best representation of his beliefs and showed that he had a tender and sensitive conscious, as befit a King and demonstrate the Katherine of Aragon, for all her piety, could not see the truth when it was presented to her.


On 18 February 1530, the effective date of the annulment, Katherine of Aragon ‘retired’ to a convent near the estates Henry had awarded his ‘most entirely beloved first-born daughter, Princess Mary’ – at present the heiress apparent to the kingdom. Anne and Henry began planning Anne’s marriage to Henry, which they envisioned as a monumental event to share with the country. Anne asked about her coronation, and was told that it could take place at the end of the ceremony (against her personal wish for it to be a separate event). The marriage/coronation was set for the 6th of June.


Henry pressed for a sooner consummation, but Anne was adamant: she would surrender her virginity to her husband after a lawful wedding and not before. She would not become what many already suspected her to be: a whore.


The partial report of the French Ambassador went as following: Despite the monies spent on the event, the response of the people was reserved. Even the coronation provoked only a small response from the crowd. We would have blamed the Spanish, but we are informed that the Holy Roman Emperor is wholly engrossed in the matter of the Pope.


Anne was furious and blamed the Spanish Ambassador for the small and quiet attendance on what should have been the most glorious day of her life. The King, however, blamed the unusually rainy weather (he had the same reports on Charles V that Francis I did) and massive thunderstorms that gathered all that day – erupting as he and Anne retired for the night. Henry was unable to perform, Anne barely noticed, she was in such a rage; he blamed the stress and excitement of the day in his apology to her.


Later in the month, Anne was dismayed by reports that there were many ‘visitors’ to the convent where Katherine had retired, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman many still called Queen. She insisted that Henry restrict access to the convent, but he was reluctant to do so until the Mother Superior also complained of those visiting for secular reasons. Then he declared the convent only available for pilgrims.


Anne was concerned about Mary. Specifically, she wanted Mary to wed outside England and for Henry to have Parliament restrict the monarchy to those born in England. Henry was bemused; he chided Anne that if he were to do that, the Courtenays or de la Poles could be the next royal family and asked if she wanted that. Anne decided to wait until after the birth of her son to approach her husband again on the subject.
 
Great start but Mary wouldn't be a Princess If I remember right the daughter of the king of England were Lady the Princess came with the Stuart so Mary would be called Lady Mary and not Princess Mary.
 
Nope, she was a Princess until her father had Cranmer pronounce the annulment. then she was Lady Mary. Same thing happened to Elizabeth in 1536. She asked something along the lines of "Yesterday it was princess and today lady, why?" (Smart little girl, lizzie) The daughter of the king is a princess.
 
Princess wasn't an official title in England until the Stuart.
By that I mean there was no official and fixed practice on who had the title of Princess it was used in Treaty but wasn't an official rank more a distinction given to individual by the king will.
 
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Until the Annulment, Mary was recognized as Princess, ditto Elizabeth. Henry recognized them as such. It might not have been "Official" - but with Henry's ego, would you expect less from him?
 
Nope, she was a Princess until her father had Cranmer pronounce the annulment. then she was Lady Mary. Same thing happened to Elizabeth in 1536. She asked something along the lines of "Yesterday it was princess and today lady, why?" (Smart little girl, lizzie) The daughter of the king is a princess.


I think it was Kat Ashley who asked "how haps it yesterday my Lady Princess, but today my Lady Elizabeth". Elizabeth was smart, but lets not forget she was not even three when her parents marriage was annulled, and she never spoke of those circumstances again (mom, bastardization) that I know of
 
I suspect (taking nothing from Elizabeth's intelligence) that being called something different was what triggered the question, not the motivation of wondering about her status. Given that "My Lady Princess" was how she was addressed, it was like her name, so Monday she's Fred and Tuesday she's now Gladys. I'm not surprised she didn't speak of it at that point, and by the time she as old enough to process, understand and decide what she thought of it, she was also astute enough to keep it to herself.
 
July 1530
Anne was still trying to bring Henry around to the evils of the Papacy. It wasn’t that the church itself was evil, it just needed to be trimmed, like a tree, so it would grow straight and true. And the first trim needed to be that there shouldn’t be (as she had come to see it during the struggle to wed Henry) two masters over England: Henry VIII and Clement VII, only Henry VIII, the man God had placed in power to shepherd the country for Him. But, it was early times yet for that. It had taken centuries for the current system to develop and it would not change overnight.


The first fight of their marriage – the first real fight, not some petty squabble over trivia – occurred after her courses in late July. Anne had been indoors with the ladies attended her, working on altar clothes and walked the room to work out a cramp in the calf of her leg. As she passed the window, she saw Elizabeth Browne (one of her single women) and Henry standing close together in the garden, Henry standing in a familiar pose and Liz responding in kind. Anne remained furious for the rest of the morning; when Liz joined the ladies in the afternoon, Anne found fault with everything she did. When the puzzled woman asked what she’d done to deserve such, Anne revealed what she saw. In her defense, Liz asked Anne, with her personal experience before marriage with the King, what she (Liz) could have done differently that would not have offended the king. Anne’s anger refocused and she and the King had a screaming row over dinner, which ended with Henry stalking out. They made up, though, Henry visited her rooms that night and they thoroughly resolved the matter.


Summer began to turn to fall and Anne’s August courses failed to arrive. Since they had never varied save by a day or two since they’d begun, she was pleased: she was doing just what she needed to do to help not only her marriage, but hers and her husband’s families and for England and God. The only blights for her were Princess Mary, situated away from the king, but commended in every dispatch by Ambassadors and still being inquired about; and Katherine, Retired Queen of England, who wrote her former husband two or three times a month on various matters – usually on the subject of who her daughter would wed. (To be fair, Katherine refused to use any title, and the ‘Retired Queen of England’ was the term used by all the people in the realm – outside the court – and in dispatches of other countries.) The exception to this ‘insult’ as Henry saw it was, of course, Francis I, who referred her to as the “Youngest Daughter of the Catholics Kings”; this pleased both Anne and Henry (who admired the wittiness of a reference that could not be refuted by anyone).
 
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October 1530

Her sister Mary had breezed through her pregnancies, no morning sickness, no swollen feet, no food fancies; not Anne, who could barely keep down ale, let alone food. She was, according to the midwife, pregnant and probably due mid-May of the next year. Henry wasted no time in writing Katherine with the news, only to have his letter telling her of the pregnancy cross with her letter congratulating him on the same. Katherine included some advice on dealing with morning sickness, which Henry passed to Anne. Originally intending to throw the letter and its advice out, Mary Carey advised her sister to try it first, as nothing the midwife had suggested had worked. Infuriatingly, Katherine’s remedies worked and Anne could eat without fear of losing the meal later. To show that she could be as gracious as the ‘retired’ Queen, Anne sent her a haunch of venison along with a letter of thanks.


Christmas 1530 – January 1531

Francis I was suggesting husbands for Princess Mary Tudor and Anne wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. Every man he’d suggested thus far was heir to a kingdom, he’d even suggested one of his sons. Anne had expected better of him and was furious at his suggestions. Henry, more used to Francis, laughed them all off, telling the French monarch that Mary’s betrothal would wait until Anne had given birth to their son, sure that once he had a son, Francis would become serious about offers. If, for some reason, Anne gave birth to a daughter first, Henry knew Anne would want to wed her to an heir and not Mary. But Anne was not being realistic, Henry knew. Mary was 14, and, while still petite, had her way of women and was no longer the child-like figure she’d been at 12. She was bridal material right now, whereas it would be nearly 13 years before any daughter of Anne’s could wed.


The New Year brought a present from Charles V in the form of a betrothal offer from the Portuguese: Luis, Duke of Beja, was in need of a bride. He was the second son of Manuel I and the brother of the Portuguese King John III (who had a son living). He was respectable and the marriage in no way could be construed as an insult, not coming from Charles V himself. Anne urged Henry to accept, but Henry hesitated, until Luis himself arrived, unannounced, on the Feast of the Epiphany to plead his own case. Henry was won over and gave his word that Mary would wed this Portuguese Infante – but after the birth of her half-sibling. Luis and Mary would be godparents to this child, to show that the English court was not divided.
 
February – March 1531

Luis was willing to stay in England and wait for the birth, christening and marriage (in that order); but his King (John III of Portugal, his elder brother) was not and requested that Luis and his bride return home at once. Luis deputized the Duke of Suffolk and his wife (Henry’s sister) to act as proxy for him and Mary at the christening and requested a suitable ceremony for the marriage. Henry understood, but Anne wanted him to insist that at least Mary remain to pay homage in person to her son. At the end of February, the couple wed with all the pomp and circumstance King Henry VIII could muster on such short notice, then feted and celebrated until they left for Portugal on the Ides of March.


May 1531

Anne had entered her confinement on the 12th of April, but it was mid-morning on the 19th of May before she went into labor: a hard, grueling series of waves of pain. Her sister assured her it was normal, but Anne felt she would be ripped apart before the child arrived and die in the process. The labor lasted until the early morning hours of the 20th when, the baby finally arrived: she had white-blonde hair and was red and wrinkly and ugly. Anne was furious. Not that the baby looked as she did: Mary said all babes looked much the same, but for their hair, but that it was a girl. She was supposed to have a son!


The second major argument was over the baby’s name. Anne wanted Elizabeth, but Henry was furious that it was a girl and not the promised son and, despite that it was the name of his mother and Anne’s, wanted to name the girl Margaret for his sister (whom he claimed he dearly loved and missed). Anne then asked to name the girl Anne, but Henry announced to the court that his most beloved wife had given him Margaret, and that boys would follow, he was sure. Anne sent out the official announcement (with the corrected gender) to foreign governments.
 
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