I: York, July 1541
So: My creativity has hit rock bottom recently - I know *what* I want to write, but I haven't written a word for weeks. I'm hoping that, by posting the new TL I've promised you all, it might serve as a spur to get on and write again, either for this or for 'Titulus'.
As promised, therefore, have the first chapter of my 'Kitty Howard really was pregnant' TL!
“You’re sure?” Cranmer fixes Brandon with a searching look, “You know His Majesty is besotted with Queen Katherine. We cannot even dream of moving against her unless we are certain that there are serious questions to be answered about Her Majesty’s conduct. His Grace won’t listen to mere rumour, not with how infatuated he is.”
Brandon spreads his hands, “My most trusted man caught sight of the Queen taking her leave of Master Culpepper at the bottom of her Privy Stairs at two in the morning. He knows what he saw. Oh, Lady Rochford was with them, but we all know she’s in Norfolk’s pay. She has been since she gave evidence against her husband and his sister. Besides, even if that weren’t the case, what chaperone worth their salt would let the most important woman in England behave so improperly? You mark my words; the Howards are hiding something. Surely we owe it to the King, to England, to try and find out what it is?”
“Well, when you put it like that, Lord Suffolk…”
Cranmer gets no further, for Brandon’s second daughter, the Baroness Monteagle, suddenly pushes her way into the room, dark curls blown about haphazardly by the wind. The colour is high in her usually sallow cheeks, and her grey eyes are bright with urgency. She has clearly rushed here on a matter of some importance, a fact which is only highlighted when she starts speaking before she has even fully entered the room.
“Father -” She breaks off as her gaze lights upon Cranmer and offers him a swift curtsy, “My Lord Archbishop.”
“Lady Monteagle,” Cranmer returns the acknowledgement, and Brandon hurries over to his daughter, raising her to her feet and pushing a cup of watered wine into her hand.
“Mary! You know what the physicians said! You’re not as strong as you used to be, and besides, this heat is sapping everyone’s strength. You must take more care, my darling. Drink this and catch your breath. Whatever you have to tell us can’t be so important that it’s worth you passing out.”
Mary bears her father’s fussing with ill-concealed impatience. The wine he has pushed into her hand, however, truly is welcome, and she drinks deeply, before looking between her father and Cranmer.”
“I know that look, Father,” she says archly, raising an eyebrow in just the way her lady stepmother has taught her, “You’re plotting something. Well, I warn you. If your mischief concerns moving against the Queen, then give it up. Give it up now. His Majesty won’t hear a word against her. Not now she’s with child.”
Brandon’s mouth falls open, “Queen Catherine is with child? Mary, are you sure?”
Mary bobs her head in confirmation, “I heard it confirmed by Dr Butts not an hour ago. Not that there was really any doubt anyway. Her Grace’s breasts are tender and she’s been sick every morning for the past fortnight. Any woman who’s ever been a mother knows what that means.”
Mary lifts her cup to her lips once more, surprisingly calm now that her message has been delivered. The two men share a horrified look over her head.
This changes everything. No matter what questions there are over Queen Katherine’s conduct, she is all but invincible, so long as the King knows no different than that the child in her belly is his. He won’t hear word against her. Not when she could be carrying a Duke of York.
“As long as the King knows no different…” The faintest glimmer of an idea comes to Brandon and he glances at his daughter.
“Mary. Do you know whether the King has been told yet?”
Mary shrugs, “I would assume so. Queen Katherine had every intention of telling him as soon as they went into dine.”
No sooner have the words left her mouth than their conference is interrupted by a great wordless bellow of joy from several rooms away.
Brandon curses inwardly. That’s it then. The King knows. He’ll never believe a word against his darling Kitty now. The Howards have won, damn and blast them. Indeed, if the baby in Queen Katherine’s belly turns out to be a boy and, God forbid, anything happens to Prince Edward, then they will have won the war, never mind the battle.
All Brandon will be able to do, in that scenario, will be to decide whether he wants Kate and the children to live in that England or not.
As promised, therefore, have the first chapter of my 'Kitty Howard really was pregnant' TL!
York, July 1541
“You’re sure?” Cranmer fixes Brandon with a searching look, “You know His Majesty is besotted with Queen Katherine. We cannot even dream of moving against her unless we are certain that there are serious questions to be answered about Her Majesty’s conduct. His Grace won’t listen to mere rumour, not with how infatuated he is.”
Brandon spreads his hands, “My most trusted man caught sight of the Queen taking her leave of Master Culpepper at the bottom of her Privy Stairs at two in the morning. He knows what he saw. Oh, Lady Rochford was with them, but we all know she’s in Norfolk’s pay. She has been since she gave evidence against her husband and his sister. Besides, even if that weren’t the case, what chaperone worth their salt would let the most important woman in England behave so improperly? You mark my words; the Howards are hiding something. Surely we owe it to the King, to England, to try and find out what it is?”
“Well, when you put it like that, Lord Suffolk…”
Cranmer gets no further, for Brandon’s second daughter, the Baroness Monteagle, suddenly pushes her way into the room, dark curls blown about haphazardly by the wind. The colour is high in her usually sallow cheeks, and her grey eyes are bright with urgency. She has clearly rushed here on a matter of some importance, a fact which is only highlighted when she starts speaking before she has even fully entered the room.
“Father -” She breaks off as her gaze lights upon Cranmer and offers him a swift curtsy, “My Lord Archbishop.”
“Lady Monteagle,” Cranmer returns the acknowledgement, and Brandon hurries over to his daughter, raising her to her feet and pushing a cup of watered wine into her hand.
“Mary! You know what the physicians said! You’re not as strong as you used to be, and besides, this heat is sapping everyone’s strength. You must take more care, my darling. Drink this and catch your breath. Whatever you have to tell us can’t be so important that it’s worth you passing out.”
Mary bears her father’s fussing with ill-concealed impatience. The wine he has pushed into her hand, however, truly is welcome, and she drinks deeply, before looking between her father and Cranmer.”
“I know that look, Father,” she says archly, raising an eyebrow in just the way her lady stepmother has taught her, “You’re plotting something. Well, I warn you. If your mischief concerns moving against the Queen, then give it up. Give it up now. His Majesty won’t hear a word against her. Not now she’s with child.”
Brandon’s mouth falls open, “Queen Catherine is with child? Mary, are you sure?”
Mary bobs her head in confirmation, “I heard it confirmed by Dr Butts not an hour ago. Not that there was really any doubt anyway. Her Grace’s breasts are tender and she’s been sick every morning for the past fortnight. Any woman who’s ever been a mother knows what that means.”
Mary lifts her cup to her lips once more, surprisingly calm now that her message has been delivered. The two men share a horrified look over her head.
This changes everything. No matter what questions there are over Queen Katherine’s conduct, she is all but invincible, so long as the King knows no different than that the child in her belly is his. He won’t hear word against her. Not when she could be carrying a Duke of York.
“As long as the King knows no different…” The faintest glimmer of an idea comes to Brandon and he glances at his daughter.
“Mary. Do you know whether the King has been told yet?”
Mary shrugs, “I would assume so. Queen Katherine had every intention of telling him as soon as they went into dine.”
No sooner have the words left her mouth than their conference is interrupted by a great wordless bellow of joy from several rooms away.
Brandon curses inwardly. That’s it then. The King knows. He’ll never believe a word against his darling Kitty now. The Howards have won, damn and blast them. Indeed, if the baby in Queen Katherine’s belly turns out to be a boy and, God forbid, anything happens to Prince Edward, then they will have won the war, never mind the battle.
All Brandon will be able to do, in that scenario, will be to decide whether he wants Kate and the children to live in that England or not.
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