To Crown A Rose

by Anne R Bailey

  If rumors were to be believed, he was some butcher’s son or the son of a blacksmith, something like that. But it was his job as a lawyer that inspired her.

  They had the option of taking his mother to court over the low allowance she was giving them. They could force her hand, and Henry had friends in the King’s council. Surely, they would take his side. They wouldn’t like to see a greedy woman stealing from her son and heir.

  Besides, Henry was distantly related to the King himself — should he not get what he was owed?

  That night Henry was pleased by her suggestion but apprehensive.

  “She’s my mother. How could I drag her name through the mud in public like that?”

  “You are the one who always complains about her,” she pointed out.

  “Yes… but this is altogether different.”

  Frances was getting exasperated. “She is leaving us destitute. If she was a loving mother she would give you what you deserve. You need to get justice. It would be nothing more than what you are entitled to as the Marquess of Dorset.”

  He faltered, running a hand through his hair. “Perhaps…”

  “It is the only way.”

  “I shall write to her again and use such language, she will know that she has to comply.”

  “Fine but I am going to see what you write.” Seeing his frown at her tone she added more sweetly, “If it would please you.”

  Frances was in her rooms reading over her husband’s letter when Katherine entered. She was unannounced and unaccompanied. She looked pale and Frances wondered if she was sick.

  They had not seen much of each other since her mother’s funeral. Truth be told, she had not inquired about where she would go or what would happen to her. It was with some shock that she appeared a week ago at court.

  “Katherine! What a pleasant surprise. I was just going over some papers. Are you unwell? I cannot take any risks.” A hand went to her belly.

  Katherine shook her head. “Can I sit?”

  Frances was confused but decided to amuse her friend and nodded.

  “You have something on your mind clearly. Well out with it.”

  “Now that I’ve come here I cannot say!” She groaned. “I don’t know how to begin.”

  “This is good news?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Then tell me. Has some young man written you a poem?” She teased, only to see her friend go whiter still.

  “Something like that. I am getting married.” Immediately after saying this, she started rambling and Frances had to stop her.

  “What?”

  “I’m getting married.”

  “But you are engaged to my brother. You cannot break the betrothal.”

  “It is already done.”

  “My father would never allo…” She paused. “Who are you marrying?”

  “Him.”

  “Who’s him?” Frances felt the growing apprehension rise in her belly. She knew who she was referring to, but she refused to believe it.

  “Your father, the Duke of Suffolk. The King gave his blessing. He told me this morning. We are to wed Sunday.”

  Frances was laughing so hard she thought her stomacher would burst open.

  “You cannot be serious. Why would he marry you? He wouldn’t marry you. My mother was just recently buried. This is a cruel joke.”

  Katherine shook her head. She had grown still and serious.

  “I am marrying him.”

  “He could never love you. He is old and you are too young. You must have misunderstood. I don’t want to discuss this any further.”

  “I am marrying him,” she repeated this time with more conviction.

  “You cannot…” Frances felt her face redden. “Have you no heart? Think of what it would do to my mother if she knew. How could you betray her like that? You could never take her place.”

  “This is a good marriage for me. I loved your mother but she is gone now. You are just unhappy that I will have a higher position than you. Don’t pretend like that is the only reason you don’t want me to marry him. You knew your father would have to marry again. You just don’t want to see me rise from my station,” she accused.

  “I—” The point hit home and made her stutter. Katherine kept on going.

  “You have always put me down. You were always so worried about yourself and what you could and couldn’t do. You hated anyone who might outshine you. You are petty and selfish. Don’t deny it!” Katherine’s chest was rising fast.

  Frances finally found her tongue, though the rest of her body had tensed.

  “He’s marrying you for your money. He will never care for you as he cared for my mother. You are nothing. You were lucky to be taken in by us. You were lucky I bothered to befriend you!”

  “It will still be a stronger foundation than what you have in your marriage. Before you point fingers at me, think of your own husband. Did he not marry you to get closer to the crown? He’s just as ambitious as any of us. Before you think I was lucky, know that I had to put up with you for years. You don’t have a kind bone in your body. You lost your mother, but I was taken away from mine. I have no control over where I go and who I marry. Can you think beyond yourself for a second?” Katherine was panting now. “I cannot wait to see you walk behind me as we go into dinner. You will have to call me mother. How do you feel about that?”

  Frances wanted to throw something but there was nothing on hand for her to do so. She suppressed her desire to leap at Katherine and begin tearing out her hair.

  Katherine had taken a deep breath and seemed to try to be collecting herself.

  “I apologize. I came here to tell you, not to ask for your permission. I thought perhaps as my friend you would be supportive or at least understanding. This is a good match for me, even if you think it is less than ideal. It is true he is much older than me, but I don’t have the luxury to choose exactly.”

  Her words might have made sense to her if she was of a different frame of mind, but all she was seeing was red. Was her mother watching them from heaven? What would she think of all of this? She had risked everything when she had married Charles Brandon. Now her love was forgotten and her memory insulted.

  “You are no friend of mine. I never want to see you again!”

  Katherine left and Frances remained in her seat for quite some time, unable to process what had happened. It felt as though someone had knocked the air out of her lungs. Her head was swimming with thoughts. This wedding could not happen. Her father would never go through with it.

  She remembered how everyone said that her parents were a love match, but if this was what love was then she did not want it. She had no need for such a fickle thing.

  Henry found her pacing the length of the room, her face twisted in contempt. She could articulate what happened as she couldn’t even believe it herself.

  “At least he will be able to draw from her inheritance now.”

  She didn’t appreciate the silver-lining.

  “I must leave court. I cannot stay here. Your mother has to leave Bradgate.”

  “Don’t be rash.”

  “I’m not. I am thinking of the health of our child and staying here would only aggravate me.”

  He held her in his arms, the tight grip comforting her as she began sobbing into his shoulder.

  On the day of her father’s wedding, the Queen had also gone into labor. Frances could not leave now. While the Queen toiled in her chambers, her father was saying his vows with Katherine. Frances had refused to attend and refused to accept any of her father’s letters and messages, though she suspected Henry took them on her behalf so they wouldn’t have a falling out with him.

  Everyone was waiting on tenterhooks to see if Anne’s child would be a boy or a girl.

  Frances found herself in her uncle’s chamber, watching from the sidelines as he ate and drank while playing cards. Her husband was playing too and was trying his best not to appear as though he cared about every lost coin. It was
obvious he was losing money rather than gaining it.

  They were prepared to play well into the night. No one would sleep until the baby was born. Luckily, they did not have to wait long. In the afternoon, Mary Boleyn came to the King’s rooms.

  She looked exhausted but everyone immediately saw that she did not look triumphant either.

  “The Queen has been delivered of a healthy baby girl, your grace,” she said, curtseying to him. “You have a daughter.”

  His disappointment was clear to everyone, but he wasn’t so ungracious that he said anything now in public.

  “And the Queen is well?”

  “Yes, she is well and resting now, sire.” Mary curtseyed again, but her eyes wandered to her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk.

  Frances followed her gaze and saw that he too was trying his best to hide his disappointment.

  The Boleyns were quick to rally and everyone congratulated the King. Many claimed that since they were so fertile, a brother would follow shortly. But Frances wondered if the calculating Duke was already making a contingency plan. It was no secret that he had a falling out with Anne.

  Anne was still confined to her rooms waiting until she could be churched and re-enter court life. Frances saw an opportunity now to approach her uncle, the King, for help with her mother-in-law. She convinced Henry to walk with her, and she led him down to the archery butts, knowing the King was shooting today with some of his friends.

  Upon seeing the Yeomen of the Guard, Henry looked down at her with a quizzical look. She merely smiled up at him and lead him closer to the gathered nobles.

  They did not make their presence known as the King was pulling back the string of his bow. His eyes fixed on the target ahead.

  He breathed in, and then released the arrow. It flew true and sunk into the center of the target.

  “Bravo!” Frances shouted louder than the others and applauded.

  When the King turned around to see who had shouted, she curtseyed low, her hand to her mouth as though she was embarrassed she had shouted so loudly.

  “Ah, Lady Grey, have you come to join our little celebration?”

  She rose from her curtsey. Seeing he was in a jovial mood today, she approached.

  “My husband and I were just taking a stroll for some fresh air.”

  “Would he care to join me at a little friendly competition?”

  Frances interrupted before her husband could agree. “I fear he doesn’t shoot half as well as you do, your grace. It would be a poor competition. He was just telling me about his wonderful family home of Bradgate. How I dearly wish I could see it.”

  “Why should you not see it?” The King handed his bow to one of his companions and asked for his crossbow to be brought to him.

  “I would rather not say.” Frances looked abashed.

  “Speak up.”

  “His mother holds control of the house and refuses to allow us to live in it properly as man and wife. I am ashamed to admit this…”

  “Has your father not spoken to her?”

  “She is a headstrong woman. Thinking she knows best—”

  “Would she dare refuse the command of the King?” The King, likely thinking of Anne Boleyn’s tempers, was incensed.

  “I daresay she would not.” Frances beamed at her uncle.

  “Cromwell, make sure you make my displeasure known to—” He looked down at Frances who named her mother-in-law.

  “Margaret Wotton, your majesty.”

  The darkly clad man nodded. “I shall see it is done.”

  She kissed her uncle’s hand in thanks and retreated back to her husband’s side.

  Henry was incredulous.

  “You have succeeded?”

  “At the very least, Bradgate shall be ours. You must continue to press your case with the King’s council.”

  “I shall, I promise.”

  The new Princess was to be christened in a grand ceremony at the Church of the Observant Friars.

  Pleading ill health, Frances retired to Bradgate a day later. There was no need to stay behind for the baby’s christening. She also knew that her mother-in-law had been named as a Godmother to the baby, so she would be leaving Bradgate.

  She had told Margaret to move to the second-best rooms, but she doubted she had listened. She wasn’t above strong-arming her to get what she wanted.

  Frances arrived at Bradgate to see that her mother-in-law had indeed vacated the best rooms for her. Her own steward and chamberlain saw that the keys of the house and the account books were transferred to her. She showed no weakness and merely demanded what she wanted, rather than asking.

  She found the linen in the rooms were not to her liking and sent for the yeoman of her chamber to order new ones. She picked hues of blues to adorn her rooms and even ordered new furniture.

  Margaret’s seething disapproval was felt each and every day, but Frances strove to ignore her. Margaret had no power to stop her. The King had agreed her husband should have Bradgate back in his keeping. Henry’s mother could not argue with the King and found she no longer held tight control of the purse strings. She relinquished control begrudgingly, and it was often reported to Frances that Margaret had instructed the servants to withhold information.

  Having enough, Frances marched down the halls to the east wing, followed by two of her ladies. She found Margaret writing at her desk.

  “Will you please tell me why you have refused to give my usher the inventory of the household goods?”

  “I have misplaced the papers. There was no reason for you to barge in here like this.”

  “This is my house and you stay here at my pleasure.” Frances put a hand to her belly.

  “It was once mine. If you are so determined to take control of the reins and manage this household then I suggest you tell your people to make an inventory themselves. Since I am to be retired, I shall enjoy myself.”

  Frances regarded her coolly. “Of course, I would not wish to trouble you. It might be better for you to retire to one of Henry’s country houses. Perhaps in Lincolnshire.”

  “This is my home.” Margaret was on her feet, faster than it seemed possible.

  “I do hope we can work together and come to an accord. I am mistress here now. Bradgate is mine whether you like it or not. You may consider it your home, but it is not yours any longer. Perhaps if you had been kinder…” She left the end of the sentence hanging in the air.

  Margaret’s chest was visibly rising in and out with each breath she took as she fought to restrain herself.

  The inventory appeared miraculously the next day in the hands of her usher. Frances was pleased with herself. She shouldn’t let herself be bullied by those of lesser birth.

  By the time she was six months along, her mother-in-law had packed up her things and moved to her house in Croydon. Now the uncontested mistress of Bradgate, she relished the power of her authority.

  Often, she wished she was able to ride into the town Leicester. Like her mother before her, she too enjoyed performing ceremonial tasks such as awarding prizes at the fair. But due to her condition, she was confined to a litter, making such journeys tiresome.

  Then a happy surprise greeted her one morning.

  A messenger from her husband sent news that he was to arrive at Bradgate with a retinue of friends. He also sent a gift. Frances threw back the cloth covering her gift to reveal a cage. Inside was a little fledgling bird.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed as she put her fingers through the grate. The little creature was not fully formed but still had tufts of white fluff on its body.

  “It is a peregrine falcon purchased for you by your husband.” The messenger handed her a sealed note.

  She ripped the seal and read.

  He wrote that he knew how she must be missing going out hunting every day and hoped that the distraction of training her own bird from such a young age would prove a suitable replacement. He wished her well and told her to ask the falconer for anything she might need.

&nb
sp; She looked at the little creature again. Its dark eyes fixed on her. She felt a blooming appreciation for her husband. He had never been so thoughtful before. It nearly made her want to cry.

  “Take the bird to the mews. I shall come down shortly after I have changed.”

  Her husband arrived with a troupe of fifty men accompanying them. It would have been hard for Frances to miss his encroaching arrival as all the horses were kicking up dust on the road. She had arranged for rooms to be prepared with her chamberlain and had the kitchens working around the clock to ensure she had enough food to feed them all.

  Frances was surprised by the number of friends her husband seemed to have. She had always looked down on him and teased him about his lack of position, but it was evident she had been mistaken.

  Dressed in a new gown of red velvet, she greeted her husband as he jumped from his horse in the stable yard.

  “You look well, Lady Grey.” He placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Her growing belly between them. “And how is my son doing in there?” He whispered this last part so only she could hear.

  “He is growing strong. I feel him moving sometimes.” She returned his smile, happy to see his joy at seeing her again.

  They enjoyed three days of feasting. Frances could not even imagine the drain on their estate but she did not care. She enjoyed sitting beside Henry in the great hall. Each dish was brought in to a flourish of trumpets. Mutton in gravy, swans, roasted pheasant filled their bellies until they felt they were going to burst.

  During the day, the men rode out hunting the rich forests surrounding Bradgate. When they returned they would play cards and place bets on the winners. On the second day, they arranged for a cock fight in the courtyard outside. Frances found her stomach go queasy at the sight of blood, and she had to look away.

  She found herself laughing and enjoying herself more than ever. Her eyes constantly searched for her husband, and she found that she was beginning to miss him when he was not by her side. As any decent husband, he did not lie with her at night, but he still brought her a warm jug of spiced wine and they drank it together and spoke of their plans for the day ahead.