Chapter 135, July 1524
Richmond Palace, Kingdom of England, July 1524

The Duke of Norfolk was dead, but that wasn’t that which caused the Queen and her household to feel mournful. In fact, she didn’t care. The Howard family were too close to the Boleyns for her taste, and the fact that they were enemies of Wolsey meant that Queen Eleanor wasn’t displeased to see fortune turn against them. Instead, what had saddened them all was the tragedy that Doortje had just suffered. Her second son with the Baron Pole, Richard, had only lived a short few hours after his birth in April, a crushing loss, even worse because the young woman had not lost a child before. That was without even mentioning the fact that the Queen’s stillbirth was still very much raw, but the woman herself tried to put up a strong front to support her lady. Martijna wasn’t there to comfort either woman, having entered confinement as she herself was with child for the third time, so Johanne, her younger daughters, as well as the other ladies tried their best to help Eleanor and poor Doortje.

“Here Majesty.” Helga, her German lady, brought Eleanor a bowl of strawberries and cream, one of her favorite treats.

The Queen of England took the bowl and a small smile came across her lips,“Thank you Helga, you have always been so devoted in your service to me.”

Plopping one of the berries into her mouth, she chewed it daintily as she tasted the tart juices contrast with the sweet cream. After finishing the first berry, she asked,”Why haven’t you found a husband here yet Helga? You’re getting on in years, but any man would be happy to marry someone who served the Queen of England.”

The woman simply shrugged,”I do not wish to. I am happy serving you, and you, alone. I have seen the dangers of childbirth and want no part of it. Besides, my brothers back in Bremen have had plenty of children of their own to continue the family line, so I have no need to marry.

Eleanor shrugged,”If that is what you wish Helga I shall not stop you. We all know how some men are, perhaps you are better off without a husband..."

The end of the sentence had a deliberate edge to it, for the Queen was displeased that her husband had made his little bastard Jasper a Duke. Some had thought it nothing. Hell, even Wolsey took little issue with it, telling her that she was looking too much into the matter, for she was fine with John Fitzroy being Duke of Richmond. Of course, he did not see Eleanor’s distinction, John was born before she had even arrived in England, while Jasper was the fruit of Henry’s affair with that whore Bessie Blount during the early years of their marriage. He heaps more and more honors on the bastard than he deserves. He insults and humiliates me. The woman simply shook her head as she leaned back, she was not the same as she was when she was younger, Eleanor would no longer vocally show her anger. No, she would endure this with quiet dignity, secure in the knowledge that it would be one of her sons who would succeed Henry as King, not anyone else’s.
Last edited:
Poor Doortje, hope she will be alright.

Helga might have the right of it.

Hope Eleanor is planning much more strategically than at other times.
Poor Doortje, hope she will be alright.

Helga might have the right of it.

Hope Eleanor is planning much more strategically than at other times.
Doortje should be ok in the end, but this is a very tough loss for her to take. Haha you might be right about Helga, she has a good source of employment and doesn't have to answer to anyone but Queen Eleanor, who has calmed down a bit since her teen years. Thank you so much for your input!
I think Eleanor has really matured, hopefully she does not grow bitter.
It's a bit too late for her not to grow bitter sadly... However, her growing maturity means that at least she won't be causing any needless. drama for herself, she knows that regardless of her husband's dalliances that she is the Queen and is the mother of his heir and a Duke of York, and mostly has his heart too.
Chapter 136, August 1524
Hatfield House, Kingdom of England, August 1524
Anne looked up at Charles, her lips parted wide with disbelief,”What did you just say Charles?”

The two were alone in his rooms, just the two of them. Now that the Duke of Somerset had reached his majority and had a household separate from his mother, he had been staying at Hatfield for the past month. Anne had made an excuse as to why she couldn’t go to court with Joanna and Giovanna, that the ship taking her back from her sister’s wedding to James Butler in Ireland had to be delayed. The Duke of Somerset had sent her a letter, asking her to come and see him at Hatfield, that it was urgent, and so she was there. The fifteen-year-old flushed, and mumbled sheepishly,”I said that I cannot marry Anne Brandon, that there is another that I will marry…”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and trying to maintain her composure, Anne Boleyn folded her hands together at the front of her waist,”Who is it that you would rather marry Charles?”
Charles breathed heavily for a moment and sighed,”You.”

“You do? Truly?”
“Yes I do.” Charles answered, gently taking her hands into his own, their brown eyes meeting in a gaze that could only be described as love,”I love you Anne, I have felt this way for… a long time, and there is no other woman that I could marry, no other woman that I could love.”

“Oh Charles.” Anne gasped, her eyes wet with tears.

“So, what do you say Anne, will you marry me and make me the happiest man in England? Or will you make me a bachelor for the rest of my days?”

The young woman smiled wide, her perfect white teeth all but gleaming in the candlelight,”Of course I’ll marry you Charles, I have come to love you too, and I am so happy that we feel the same.”

Charles grinned and leaned in, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek,”Then let us go to the chapel Annie, the priest and the others are waiting...”

Finally believing that this was really happening, she held his hand and they walked out of the room together, not caring for what anyone else would think of their union.
Last edited: