The Boleyn Prince

Chapter 24

Mary awoke to the tranquil sound of chirping birds and the warming shine of the sun lit up her room.
It was not her old bedchamber, the best in the house, the one she had used when she had last lived in Beaulieu. That was reserved for the man who was now her husband. The man for whom she had been evicted so that he could move in.
It did however boast a good view over the gardens and surrounding woodland. But above all it was peaceful.
The sun was high, and Mary realised she had slept late into the morning. She was struggling to shake the fatigue that had settled on her on their first day of traveling from London.
Their return to Beaulieu had been delayed by two weeks due to a strange ague that had left her unable to leave her bed.
They had only been in residence for two days, yet Mary still felt strangely glad to be back. To be amongst the familiarity of her favourite residence afforded her a semblance of comfort in the strange new role she now found herself in. 
She rose from her bed and splashed some cold water on her flushed face. The gardens at Beaulieu were her favourite of all the royal residences and she finally felt well enough to go out and take solace in them.
She called for her new maids and instructed them to dress her.

"Good morning," George called to her as she passed the great hall where he was seated pouring over copious parchments.

She did not go in. A part of her suspected that George had had a hand in her illness. He had been courteousness itself outwardly, of course. summoning multiple physicians to attend her and insisting on breaking their journey in Winchester to enable her to recover quicker. But he had forbidden he the services of her late mothers' own physician.

"Good morning." Her reply was formal and cool.

"I am glad to see you up," he said, rising from the chair and approaching her in the doorway. "You must be feeling better."

"I am, thank you." She could not wait to get away from him. "I thought I would take the air in the gardens."

"As you wish. Should you not put a cloak on? You do not want to fall ill again. Fetch your mistress a warm cloak," he instructed her ladies, who hurriedly rushed off to obey their master's instructions.

"Thank you, but I do not feel I need one. I will be glad to feel the sun on my neck. If you will excuse me."

"Now that you are better, I should tell you that I must return to court within the week."

She was grateful her back was facing him so that he could not see the smile of relief stretch across her face.

"Of course," instantly wondering how long she would have to wait until he was gone, and she could be left in peace. "When will you leave?"

"The day after next."

"As you wish," she murmured softly, feeling more rejuvenated than she had in months.

He had not commanded her to come to London with thanks be to God. She would be left behind to live quietly away from Court as she pleased, just as other ladies did. She would be able to fill her days with devotions and good works.
Her hand found its way to the smooth silk of her stomacher. Would she be left alone for long, she wondered. Did a child already grow in her belly?
A wedding night child was the greatest blessing God could bestow on newlyweds; her chaplain had taught her when she was young.
Was their union blessed by God. Mary could not see how.
Her stomach bound itself in nervous knots at the conflicting feelings she harboured in bearing a Boleyn child. For as long as she had dreamed of her wedding day, so too had she dreamt of the children she would one day have.
When she was betrothed to the Emperor, she had dreamt of the honourable, brave sons that would follow their noble father in championing Catholicism throughout Europe.
When she was promised to the Duke of Orleans, she envisioned princes and Princess's leading the way in renaissance diplomacy.
Never in her worst nightmares did she think she would bear a Boleyn child. She was not even sure whether she wished for children from this union. She doubted the love she could give a child born of such a travesty.
The child would be innocent, she told herself. but it would have Boleyn blood in its veins. Would she even be able to love a Boleyn child when all she felt for the whole family was resentment and hatred?

She was still pondering the subject when she came upon Beaulieu's head gardener, Jasper tending the Rose Bushes in the south garden.

"Good day to you, Jasper." She greeted him warmly for he had always been loyal to her.

A tall thin man, nearing his forties, Jasper hastily removed his hat from his head and offered her a bow. "Good day, Your Grace. Welcome back."

She tried to feign joviality. "Thank you, Jasper".

"And not alone," he remarked boldly, his eyes falling to her ornate wedding ring.

Instinctively her right hand moved to cover the thick gold band, the cause of her unhappiness. Her fingers grazed over the raised edges of the gems studded on her nuptial ring. The memories of the trauma of the past few days pricked at her emotions and she felt the familiar feeling of tears threaten to show themselves.

"No," she confirmed quietly, her voice breaking with emotion.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace. It was not my place to say that."

"It's alright Jasper." She smiled kindly. She decided to take him into her confidence. "Jasper, you were here when the Duke lived here before, with his first wife."

"I was, Your Grace."

"What was said about him? His character I mean."

"His character, Your Grace?"

"What kind of man is he? I have heard so many conflicting reports of him and I find I must know the truth of him for my own peace of mind."

"It would not be for me to say, Your Grace. I mean, His Grace is a nobleman. If he found out I had spoken out of turn he would have me whipped."

"So, he can be cruel?" she thought to herself anxiously.
She despised the practice of brutalizing servants. Her father thought it right to rule by fear, but she trusted in the virtue of forgiveness as the Lord preached.
If there was on thing she had learnt in the past few years, it was that loyalty was not guaranteed in a servant.

"Jasper, how long have we known each other? If I cannot trust you to tell me the truth, then who can I trust? I would never betray any words spoken to me in confidence, including yours. I value the service of those loyal to me. Please, I have to know."

"I don't know much, Your Grace. My Lord hardly ever came here and when he did, he wouldn't talk to the likes of me. The Viscountess, God rest her, came to stay about three years ago. Rumours were the King himself banished her from the court. Scheming with the Queen!"

At this revelation, Mary's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Really?"

"Mighty grand lady though," Jasper confided mischievously. "Spoke to her just the once. She wanted some new flower beds putting in the south garden. Strange eyes though. Very cold."

"Thank you, Jasper," she said, almost absent-mindedly. Her fatigue had returned and what little positivity she had felt was extinguished.
"Just who have I been forced to marry?" she thought to herself as her maids helped her back inside.