1536
Henry Norris was hanging around again. He was always there, just... lingering. He'd told Anne that it was because he was after Madge Shelton, he'd said he planned on proposing marriage to her. Anne scoffed.
"Master Norris?" Anne called. He looked up from where he was leaning on the fireplace, adoration in his eyes. "Dance with me." She said, rising from her seat. With a single look to Mark Smeaton, he had picked up his lute and began to play. Norris hid his surprise well, and Anne wanted to throw her head back and laugh as they began the dance.
"Your majesty is a wonderful dancer." He remarked. Anne nodded with a smile as she twirled past him. His palm met hers in the air as they followed the steps. When their eyes met, she nodded to Madge in the corner.
"When are you going to ask her to be your wife?" She asked. Norris' smile dropped but a little; only the eagle-eyed would have noticed it. Anne noticed.
"I... the nerves have prevented it, your grace." He said. Anne scoffed again.
"Oh, I can assure you Madge would say yes. Someone's got to make an honest woman of her." She said in jest. Norris gave a laugh, and Anne shrugged as the music finished.
"Ask her soon." Anne said simply. Norris merely bowed low, and with a dozen excuses and a fleeting smile in Madge's direction, he left her chambers. Anne rolled her eyes and motioned for Mark to pick up the lute again.
It was raining when Anne next saw Henry Norris. He was hanging round Madge again, but with no indication of a proposal, Anne could tell her cousin was growing frustrated. Her chambers were fairly empty - she noticed absently that the Seymour girl was missing - and, feeling frustrated herself, she called Norris to her.
"Come now, Harry." She said, using a nickname usually reserved for the closest of associates. "Why haven't you asked my cousin to marry you yet?"
"I thought I would tarry a while, your majesty." He said with a slight bow. Anne glared. He had led on Madge for months, leaving her hanging on his every word and waiting for a proposal. Now he said he wanted to tarry? For what, Anne thought irritatedly.
What angered her most was his flippancy. Madge was getting older, she was anxious to be married before her best years were behind her and Norris had, seemingly, led her on a wild goose chase. Anne knew what it was like to be waiting for marriage. Her years waiting for the king's divorce felt like agony, each day waking up a day older and one more day past her prime. Norris could have children well into old age; Madge would expire in her thirties. Anne, propelled by her own lack of fertility and years of missed chances and missed babies, snapped.
"You look for dead men's shoes, I think." She said coldly. "If aught came to the king but good, you would look to have me."
There was an audible gasp from the ladies around them, and Anne had forgotten quite how loudly she had spoken. She breathed in shakily. Norris had gone pale. She had accused him of wanting her himself. She had spoken of ill coming to the king, and all present knew damn well that amounted to treason.
"If I had any such thought, I would that my head were off." Norris replied. He turned and left, leaving Anne reeling in anger and the courtiers around her in stunned silence. Anne glanced at Madge, whose mouth had fallen agape.785Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFfXumYsHCX
So much for trying to help, Anne thought bitterly.
"Smeaton confessed." Mary told her absently. She had come to visit her in her confinement, and as Mary spoke the words Anne wanted to laugh.
"Smeaton?" She asked. "Confessed to what? How can that ignorant little musician think I'd ever debase myself by lying with him!" She laughed, the high tinkling sound echoing in the bare chamber.
"Cromwell believed him. The king believes him." Mary said gravely. Anne rolled her eyes.
"Jesus, Mary. If that's all they're going off, a confession from a man who'd like to dream he can have me, I'll be released sooner than I thought. If I wouldn't let the king of England have me, why on Earth would I let Mark bloody Smeaton!" She laughed again, but Mary bit her lip.
"Take this seriously, please, Anne." Mary begged. Anne rolled her eyes. She reached behind her neck and untied the necklace hanging there. It was a string of pearls, with a golden 'A' attached.
"Here, take this." Anne said, holding it out to her sister. "Take it and give it me back when I am released." She said confidently. "If that day isn't someday within the next two weeks, sell it and make a tidy profit to prove me wrong."
Mary bit her lip again, but accepted the necklace in an outstretched palm.
"Lord knows, I hope you're right Anne." She said timidly. Anne rolled those dark eyes once more and rose.
"I am innocent. The king, and Cromwell, and all the king's council will see it." She said defiantly. It never occurred to her that they would find her guilty of actions she hadn't committed.
November 1541
Henry sat alone in his chamber. The fire was dying, and in his lap lay a letter from his wife. He had debated reading it, wishing for the moment to live in blissful ignorance. Cranmer had delivered it to him that morning, and Henry had nodded stiffly and said he would read it. As he cracked it open, he was sure he was going to regret it.
Master Culpeper,785Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBxqthr8pmT
I heartily recommend me unto you, praying you to send me word how that you do. It was showed to me that you was sick, the which thing troubled me very much for I never longed so much for a thing as I do to see you and to speak with you. When I think again that you shall depart from me it makes my heart to die to think what fortune I have that I cannot be always in your company. My trust is always in you that you will be as you have promised me, and in that hope I trust upon still, praying you that you will come when my Lady Rochford is here for then I shall be best at leisure to be at your commandment...785Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8JWpKodLTk
Yours as long as life endures,785Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTq2Ye8cEWC
Catherine.
Culpepper had been ill - the king had allowed him a time away from court - and until now Henry had suspected nothing between his groom of the stool and his queen. Henry imagined Catherine writing the letter, only just falling short of declaring her love for the bastard Culpepper in the pages, and he grew angry. How many times must his wives betray him? How many times, he mused, must he be disappointed in matrimony?
It was at that moment, as he read the line 'yours as long as life endures', that rage swelled within him and he decided that in the morning Catherine was to be placed under house arrest. She, he thought, had betrayed him more than any of the others.
4th November
She heard them before they arrived. The heavy footfalls of heavy boots on the wooden floors, and the banging on the door to her chambers. Immediately, Catherine Howard glanced at Lady Rochford. Jane looked like a deer before it is shot down; and Catherine couldn't help but feel a fear spread through her veins.
Armed guards pushed their way into her chambers. Standing before them, one addressed her:
"By order of the king, Queen Catherine, you are placed under house arrest. You are not permitted to leave without consent from the king. You will receive no visitors and you will contact nobody outside of your chambers."
Leaving her stunned, all but two left. The doors were slammed shut as they retreated, but the two guards posted themselves on either side. Catherine was sure there would be more guards waiting outside.
"Please," She asked. "On what charge?"
The guards ignored her, and as she fell to her knees her ladies were left confused. Only Jane Rochford understood her terror, and she too sank to the floor next to her queen. Her arms shook as she took the queen's hands in her own. As she looked her in the eye, Catherine's slender frame shook beneath her heavy dress.
In a piercing and petrified gaze, Catherine seemed to ask Jane one thing:
What are we going to do?
Days passed, and with each morning more of Catherine's ladies were stripped from her chambers. By the third day, Jane Rochford had gone mad.
Catherine saw Jane with her wide eyes, rocking backwards on the window seat, constantly mumbling about her cousin and her dead husband. She had started to pull at her hair, and it was clear that it was the confinement that was driving her, quite literally, insane. Catherine had noticed the guards, when they switched over, share a worrying look and one of them gave a small nod. After that, the king's own physician came. He declared her brain affected by madness and she was removed for the Tower.
Catherine wept, for she was still in the dark. She had had no word from the king, and with each passing day the worry in her heart grew.
On the 22nd November a messenger came from the king. He stood blankly before her as he unfolded a roll of parchment, and even as Catherine begged him for news of the king, he refrained. When he did speak, his words sent her crashing to her knees and tears running freely from her eyes.
“By declaration of his majesty king Henry, the eighth of that name, the Queen has forfeited her honour and should be proceeded against by law. She will henceforth be named no longer Queen, but only Catherine Howard.”
"Only Catherine Howard?" Catherine repeated, the words stinging her like brambles.
"Only Catherine Howard." The messenger confirmed. He left, leaving Catherine alone to mourn the loss of her crown.
Mary watched events unfold from the king's side. He did not seem to want her in his bed, but instead he wanted her companionship.
She had watched as Jane had been dragged from the queen's quarters, her hair dishevelled and her ramblings growing louder with each footstep. She had truly gone insane, and as Mary wrote the tale down in a letter to Anne, she knew her sister would love it. Anne had never liked Jane much.
"Henry," She asked one night when the pair were playing cards. He was calm, and though he was wounded she felt now was the best time to get what she wanted.
"Mary?" He asked, glancing up from his cards.
"With Catherine... no longer fit to be queen..." She began. Henry bristled, but she continued. "Well, I rather wonder if you'd consider putting your daughter back into the line of succession?" She asked timidly. She tried her hardest to look demure, to cast her eyes downward, to make her request seem as much for Henry's benefit as for her own.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Mary?" He asked. For half a moment she thought he were repeating her name, but then she clicked. She shook her head.
"Elizabeth." She said simply. Henry sighed heavily, and put his cards down on the table.
"I have long intended to restore Mary to the line. Elizabeth... she is different. You understand, don't you, why her case is particularly tricky?" He asked. The pleading in his eyes led her to sympathy. Anne was still alive, and whilst Anne was alive it was dangerous to restore Elizabeth for fear of implying that Anne was still a queen.
"I understand." Mary said, placing a gentle hand on top of his. He looked relieved at her understanding, and Mary thought it wise not to push the issue. Besides, she thought, she had planted the seed. All it needed now was a little cultivation.
"And, if you'll permit me to ask, what of the queen?" She asked. Henry's expression turned dark.
"She is no longer queen." He said simply, picking up his cards once more. "The law will deal with her now." He said coldly.
Mary looked at the chair arms, where carved into the woodwork was a H intertwined with a C. She idly wondered when it would be chiseled away, and she felt a pity for poor Catherine Howard, because surely she was about to lose her head. She doubted Henry would afford her the same clemency he gave Anne.
A/N: Catherine Howard's letter to Culpepper is the actual letter written by Catherine (with a sentance or two taken out), hence the discrepancies in spelling and the wrong grammar. Not only was it an age when grammar and spelling wasn't standardised, Catherine hadn't received the best education. The errors in the text and hers and are contemporary to her; the words here are the words she wrote nearly 500 years ago.
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