𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑 || 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑉𝐼𝐼

~Lady Bergavenny~

Dressed in a nightgown of primrose silk, Catherine held up her hand before her, looking at the golden wedding band that shone on her ring finger. It was a strange sight to her, this single circle of precious metal, so different from the other extravagant rings she had worn yet this held so much more value....

In legal terms at least.

This was the only visible proof of her marriage, the one thing that bound her to the man who was soon to join her. She rested her hand upon her knees which were drawn up to her chest, hidden by the crimson covers that laid across the vast bed she had been placed in. A wooden canopy laid over it, carved images of the virgin and her child surrounded by the garden of Eden.

If only the Holy Mary could help her now, she thought, looking at the velvet curtains, drawn shut, that shielded her from the rest of her husband's luxurious chamber. A small sigh left her lips. Before the servants had placed her this little retreat, she had glimpsed books upon a shelf, her books, she had realised.

It has given her a thrill to know that she would not be returning to the far Tower, that place where her greatest fears and worst realities had bundled into one atmosphere of despondent darkness. More than once it had threatened to consume her and she was glad to leave but now she wondered if she was to stay here?

Would she now be expected to sleep by a man she did not know apart from their shared glances in the chapel?

'Lady Bergavenny' She thought as her head rested against the propped up pillows. That was who she was now. She was no longer Lady Catherine Percy, daughter to the Earl of Northumberland and favourite of the Queen.....she was Baroness Bergavenny, Lady Catherine Neville.

Oh she hated the name, more than she ever had before! While she had been raised to despise this family of power hungry wolves she had never been given true cause to hate them. Now she had ample cause, more than most ever would! Although, there was one Neville, just one, that she felt she did not have an ounce of hatred for. Her husband.

'Yet' She reminded herself sternly and it was with that thought she heard her husband enter the room, his chamber door closing behind him with a heavy thud.

Leather boots landed heavily on the wooden floorboards, stopping at the end of the bed where she heard him undress, removing the heavy doublet he wore and his rings which clanged together as he placed them down. A moment later, the bed curtains were drawn aside and George Neville was revealed to her, dressed in his shirt and breeches. Just like he had done in the chapel, he smiled at her, a warm smile that told her she had nothing to fear before he joined her.