Well, if Francis and Claude only have surviving daughters, Henry could try and have one betrothed to one of his sons to claim Brittany, especially as Francis's heir is already married to his sister.
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The Queen is Dead!: Katherine of Aragon dies in 1518
- Thread starter FalconHonour
- Start date
If Claude and François have only daughters, then the eldest will likely be married eventually to Antoine de Bourbon in order to keep Brittany under control of the French crown. Of course, this is also assuming that the same butterflies which resulted in Catalina of Aragon's death also didn't result in the birth of a surviving male child to the Duke of Bourbon or the Duke of Alençon.
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No Children to either Bourbon or Alencon, the latter of whom died several years early in a hunting accident - mentioned in Chapter 18, if I remember correctly. But Francois still has a son with Claude - the little Duke of Orleans, now Dauphin, whom Maria was betrothed to as part of the peace treaty...
Section CXLI - October 1523
Fontainebleu, October 1523
“Annabelle? This came off the boat for you.”Marguerite held out a slim packet of parchment to her young favourite. Anne curtsied and took it, turning it over and over in her hands. Suddenly, she stifled a gasp, successfully enough that none of Marguerite’s other ladies noticed, but not successfully enough for Marguerite not to raise her head curiously.
“What is it, cherie?”
“It’s from King Henry.”
“King Henry? What does he want now?” Marguerite raised her eyebrows and Anne shrugged, reaching for a letter opener and slitting open the packet. She spread the parchment wide and scanned it with her sparkling onyx eyes.
“He wants Harry and I to go back to England. He writes that my sister is once again with child and he wants Harry and I on hand to help her.”
“Annabelle...” Marguerite put out a hand to her, “If you would rather not go, you don’t have to. We can make up some excuse.”
“With all due respect, Madame, I think we do.”
“Annabelle, it could be a trap. Remember how angry he was when you fled? What if he’s just trying to get you back into England so that he can punish you?”
“I don’t think subtlety like that is Henry Tudor’s game, Madame. I doubt that he would write that this was the little Dauphine's idea unless it truly was. Besides, he writes also that my sister is having a very hard time of it with this pregnancy. If that’s true, then I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t go back to help her. Non, Madame. I thank you for your concern and your hospitality all these months; your willingness to be a sanctuary for my family for a long as we needed it, but I believe it is time we went home.”
“But little Margaret? Will she not suffer from the journey?”
Anne’s face clouded for an instant, but then she shook her head, “I don’t think so, Madame. Not if we’re careful. If we take the journey slowly. She’s four months old now, don’t forget. Your Grace’s nieces and nephews have been sent clear across France at a younger age than that. If we’re careful, Maggie should come to no harm.”
Marguerite sighed, “Your mind’s made up, isn’t it, ma petite Boleynette? Very well. I’d be lying if I said I was happy about letting you go, but nonetheless, you have my blessing.”
“Merci, Madame! Merci Beaucoup!” Anne gasped, kneeling by her mistress’s feet and bowing her lustrous ebony head in gratitude. Marguerite placed a hand on the raven curls where they peeped out from beneath the ruby-encrusted hood.
“May God bless you and keep you, ma petite,” she murmured, “May He keep you safe, now and forever.”
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I'm sure they'll be fine. As Anne points out, children were sent clear across countries at a younger age than Maggie.
It's a full eight months since they left, and I need Anne home. She needs to be there for her sister, because none of Marie's other ladies will be able to treat her with the same mixture of love and slight lack of adherence to protocol that Anne will be able to get away with in trying to distract Marie from herself... Yes, believe you me, Marie needs that right now...This went too smoothly.
I see your point. However, I don't know whether Dauphin in France is like the title Prince of Wales in England, where one has to be invested, or whether it's like Duke of Cornwall, and passed automatically to the monarch's eldest surviving son. If it's the latter, yes, she should be Dauphine, if not, she's still Duchess of Orleans - or Countess of Avranches, if you want to use the title Henry gave her.
Francis hasn’t been told yet and Anne hasn’t spoken bluntly in front of Henry either.This went too smoothly.
Anne's in Marguerite's household. It's her permission she needs to leave. But I agree with the latter point.
Oh boy, hopefully, Anne doesn't receive a cool or rude welcome back to England. I fear some may snub her in order to attempt to curry favor with the king. Great chapter as usual!
She's the pregnant Queen's younger sister. No one's going to piss her off too much, if only for Marie's sake. Thanks, glad you enjoyed it!
I can see the courtiers being polite but a bit more distant than you would expect for the sister of the Queen, mostly because things with Anne's return will be seen as 'touch-and-go' when it comes to the King and his attitude towards her.
But if Henry welcomes Anne and her husband back with open arms then the ass-kissing will begin very quickly.
Section CXLII - November 1523
Richmond, November 1523
The slow water of the Thames drifted beneath the barge as it was rowed upstream to Richmond. Anne stood by the prow, her hands clenched around the golden rail. She stared into the early November fog, thanking God that the journey had been relatively smooth thus far, given the time of year and trying not to admit how scared she was.
What on Earth had she been thinking, insisting on coming back? And bringing Harry and Maggie with her? She had no idea what she was walking into. Why hadn’t she followed King François’s advice and left them in France, where King Henry wouldn’t be able to get to them if he was still angry at what she and Harry had done?
“Annabelle? Are you all right, love?”
Harry’s murmur broke into her reverie and she turned, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she saw her husband approaching her across the deck, their almost five-month-old daughter wriggling in the crook of his arm. Momentarily, she debated pretending she was fine, but she could never lie to Harry. He knew her too well.
“I’m just scared,” she admitted, “I just don’t know how King Henry’s going to react to having us back. I know he invited us, but he’s so unpredictable. Who knows if he’s changed his mind? And we’ve Maggie to fear for now. It’s not just us anymore.”
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, we are here to help your sister. Let’s not forget that.”
“Hmm,” Anne murmured, resting her dark head on his shoulder as he slipped his free arm around her waist.
Yet, when they arrived at the Palace steps, their fears were dispelled in an instant.
King Henry met them straight off the boat, waving away their obeisance with a jovial hand.
“Rise, Harry. Annie. All is forgiven now. Indeed, I apologise for making you wait so long to be wed. Your impatience was understandable and I plead forgiveness for my harsh reaction. Please, accept a gift in recompense.”
“Sire?”
“I’m going to name you Marquis of Lancaster to show that all is truly forgiven between us,” Henry clapped Harry on the shoulder, and the younger man gaped.
Anne gasped, falling to her knees in gratitude, “Thank you, Sire!”
King Henry laughed, “You have nothing to thank me for, Annie dearest. And how many times must I remind you? I would not have you be so formal with your older brother.”
Helping her up, he kissed her, glanced quickly at Maggie and patted her downy head, “She’s a charming little thing. You’ve done well, little sister. Now, run along and find Marie while I talk to Lord Lancaster here. She’s dying of boredom and she’ll be very glad to see you.”
“Majesty,” Anne curtsied again, took Maggie out of Harry’s arms and hurried out of the courtyard, knowing better than to protest at being dismissed as easily as a child. King Henry couldn’t stop thinking of her as a child. In a way, she could almost understand it. She was a full generation younger than him, after all. And he was the King. Hate it though she did, there was nothing she could do.
She hurried through the palace to her sister’s rooms, shifting Maggie in her arms to make it easier to knock.
Sarah, her sister’s other favourite, opened the door.
“Anne, thank goodness! You’re all right!” she pulled the younger woman into her embrace, then fussed briefly over little Maggie before letting Anne step into the room.
“Are we glad to see you! You might be able to ease your sister’s heart a little.”
“Is it a difficult pregnancy?”
“Marie’s trying to be as patient as possible, but it’s not easy for her. This pregnancy is a lot harder than either of the other two.”
As if on cue, an anguished groan came from her sister’s privy chamber, “Ugh! I need another pillow! My back aches as though I’ve got a poker rammed up it!”
Sarah glanced at Anne, “Go on. You take it in. She’ll be delighted to see you.”
Anne nodded, snatched up the nearest silken pillow and balanced Maggie in her other arm before ducking through the door into the next room. Marie didn’t see her at first, so she had a chance to pause and observe her older sister. Marie sat on a large velvet divan, propped up by at least a score of feather pillows, a deep scowl of discomfort marring her usually pretty features. Anne almost had to bite back a laugh. She’d never seen her sister look so spoilt in her life. Then she caught sight of just how huge Marie’s belly actually was.
“Good God, Marie, how far along are you?!” she exclaimed, hurrying forward to tuck another pillow into the small of her sister’s back.
“Annie!” Marie gasped, pleasure lighting up her beautiful blue eyes, “You’re back! And this must be little Margaret. Oh, she’s gorgeous!”
Anne laughed, leaning over to give her sister a one-armed hug, “I’m Lady Lancaster now. Henry bestowed Harry with the title of Marquis of Lancaster the moment we stepped off the boat.”
Marie made to gasp with pleasure, but Anne held up a hand, “It’s not official yet! Your husband has to dissolve the Duchy first! But that shouldn't take too long, it's not as if he can't afford it, with Normandy firmly in his clutches. I'd say everything will be in place by Christmas. Until then, I’d rather talk about you. Are you really only three months along? You look like you could be six or seven at least.”
“No, just three. Dr Linacre has predicted a multiple birth, though until the babies quicken, there’s no way to be sure. But anyway, can I hold my niece, please?”
“Of course!" Anne arranged Maggie in her sister’s arms and perched on the other end of the divan.
Maggie, however, was nowhere near as content with the new state of affairs as her mother and aunt were. Never one to lie completely still anyway, she began to squirm ferociously in Marie’s arms before setting up a raucous wail of protest. Marie tried bouncing her and shushing her, but she was having none of it.
Anne watched, knowing precisely what was wrong with her little girl and smirking as she watched her older sister struggle to figure it out. Eventually, she took pity on them both – and on her own eardrums – and took Maggie back into her own arms.
“Have you forgotten everything Mother ever taught you about babies, sister?” she chuckled, “Maggie’s just windy, that’s all. It always happens, because she never stays still long enough to eat, do you, precious? You need to learn to be more patient.”
So saying, she patted her little girl’s back firmly, eliciting a huge burp from her.
“You vixen! You were enjoying watching me struggle with her, weren’t you?” Marie cried, blushing furiously.
Anne shrugged, “You needed something to distract you from yourself.”
Marie moved to swat her, then sighed, “You’re lucky. I can’t be bothered. Now give me my niece back. I need to get used to having a baby in my arms again.”
Anne laughed and tapped Maggie’s nose, “You be good for your aunt now, you hear? She’s the Queen of England so we have to keep her happy.”
As the last word left her mouth, she deposited a much more content Maggie into Marie’s arms.
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Marquis of Lancaster ? Think that's very wrong, its far to near the Wars of the Roses to give that title out, its royal and then some. Even today the Duke of Lancaster is Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth ( its one of the few titles that is the same regardless of gender )
I know. I studied at Lancaster - I sang long live our noble Duke at my graduation. But I always break that rule in my stories. It is my little nod to my beloved university town, always sneaking a Lancaster title in there somewhere. Let's just say that Edward IV never created the Duchy ITTL. I wanted a northern title for Harry, to go with his Earldom of Northumberland, and Richmond and York are both out. Hal Fitzroy has one and Henry's saving the other for Marie's unborn child, if it's a boy. I suppose I could have used Carlisle, but that would have been treading on Clifford toes.... Besides, Henry Percy, Marquis of Lancaster has a ring to it
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