Since the last section was so short, I'm feeling generous. Have another chapter a day or two early
Henry was just coming out of Mass a couple of mornings later when Mistress Marie fell to her knees in front of him.
“Your Majesty, I humbly beg your pardon for having displeased you. I know now that I should never have presumed to do anything such as visit Her Highness at Eltham without Your Grace’s permission, especially not at a time when Your Majesty needed me so, but I beseech Your Majesty to remember that I never wanted to abuse the favour that you so graciously bestow upon me. I acted only out of the impulsive kindness of a young girl’s heart. Furthermore, I can only hope that Your Grace will realise that I only desired to see you reconciled with your daughter because I saw it as my Christian duty to reach out in kindness to a motherless child such as the Princess Mary, and smile upon me for it.”
Henry looked down upon her golden head as it was bent in supplication. He had meant to stay angry at her, but how could he when she begged so abjectly for his forgiveness? And she had been acting out of kindness, hadn’t she? She’d been thinking of others besides herself; of his little girl, his little pearl. It was more than Bessie had ever done. She’d even been jealous when he spent too much time with his own sister, for God’s sake! Marie, on the other hand, clearly wouldn’t mind that. She didn’t seek to rule him as Bessie had. Rather, she let him command her, as Cata had always done. It was obvious which of the two, Bessie or Marie, cared for him more. Which of them cared for him in the way that Cata had done.
“Marie, look at me.” He spoke gently, waving the others around them away. She raised her head a fraction, showing him the tears that were swimming in her eyes and threatening to spill over on to her dove-grey damask.
At the sight of them, a stab of guilt went through Henry. How could he ever have made this beauty cry? Hadn’t he promised to be her Knight Gallant until London melted into the Thames? Knights Gallant didn’t make their damsels cry.
He reached down to slide his palm under her chin.
“Did you truly do what you thought was best for me? On your own account? No one put you up to it?”
“No, Sire. I acted purely on my own foolish whim. Indeed, my brother George tried to stop me. He warned me that you would not like it.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“Yet you still did it?”
She bobbed her head, the tears on her lashes quivering dangerously.
“How can I argue with a sense of duty as keen as that?” Putting his hand under her shoulder blades, Henry helped Marie up, “You’re a blessing to my Court and to my life, Mistress Marie. What boon would you ask of me? Ask, and, if it is within my power to do so, I shall grant it. A heart as innocent and caring as yours cannot go unrewarded.”
“Anything, Sire?” Her voice was quiet, as though it were seeking reassurance. Henry nodded encouragingly.
"Anything. You have my word."
“Grant me permission to visit the Princess Mary at Eltham whenever I so desire.”
“Granted,” Henry laughed in surprise. He’d been expecting her to ask for a new dress or some jewels, like Bessie would have done. After all, wasn’t that what all women liked?
“And say you’ll come with me. Mary would love to see her Papa again.”
Henry hesitated. The last time he’d seen Mary, she’d only been two, but already blossoming into a little copy of her mother. Katherine. Could he put himself through that pain?
“Please, Sire,” Marie’s voice was desperate. She slid her arms about his waist and peeped up at him, pleading.
Oh, how could he ever resist those eyes? And he’d promised her anything he could grant.
“Tell me when you want to go,” he sighed, bending his head to find her lips with his.