5th February 1520
Since the peace in 1514 between England and France, there had been on-off plans for my brother and husband to meet. An arrangement last year had been arranged, like others before it had fallen through, so to express his disappointment Henry started to grow a beard.
"like it darling," he said couching a little, stroking the stubble under his chin and I shook my head
"no henry, just meet Francis I can't bear it," I said as I was handed a letter from a messenger.
"you've never complained about Charles Brandon's but mine" henry started. my mind began to drift to thoughts of Edmund, consumed my mind. I snapped back to reality and opened the letter. it was Claude, updating me about Fredrick and herself. she also was complaining about how my husband had inspired Francis to grow out his beard and he won't cut until he meets henry. she also wrote about all the good things in her life and how much she missed seeing my bright smile and hearing my beautiful laugh. in all fairness I missed her too, I never really got to know her well as we grew up but now we wrote letters at least twice a month.
"uhh, men" I groaned fling the letter onto the desk, looking at henry who was having a coughing fit. I then backed up slightly
"Henry, are you okay cause you don't look fine," I said looking at his rashy skin. he then coughed a few more times gripping onto his chest.
"I'm fine, I don't get sick, I can't, I just can't," he said sounding quite irritated and annoyed. he had his face scrunched up trying his best to pretend everything was okay but was he really okay.
"it's not my time to die, I have so much more to do" he cried and I shook my head once I processed the nonsense which he had just uttered out.
"you're not going to die, calm down you just need a little lie-down love" I cried before I walked over to the door.
"you'll be fine love," I said trying to treasure him and myself a little. I left the room, heading outside to think and write to Edmund Howard. I didn't know what to write but I really felt that I should just check upon him. I twiddled with my quill for a bit longer as I tried to write the opening, middle and ending. in the end, I decided to give up and go over to my ladies who have gathered around in my quarter as usual.
16th February 1520
"is he any better," I asked the physician who just left henry room
"he is much better but will need bed rest for a few more days," he said and I nodded heading to Thomas Wosley.
"your grace," I said bowing as he turned around to face me,
"king henry is still not well enough to meet the king of France yet so can we push the date," I said
"Follow me, your majesty," he said and I did. he lead me to his office where he sat down and I paced behind him. Wosley then began to scribble to Francis while I gave suggestions on what he should add.
"Are you done yet," I said standing behind his chair and he handed me the letter? I read it through then hand it back to him, with a smile
"perfect," I said as he got up, then we headed to the door.
"We make a good team your majesty, we must work again some time," he said shaking my hand. he then walked off and I walked in the other direction being handed a letter from a messenger who I thanked. I then headed outside with it bumping into some man who looked as if he was in a hurry.
"I'm so sorry lord ... umm" I started placing my hand out to help him up
"Thomas Cromwell, but I'm no lord, your majesty," he said bowing before taking my hand.
YOU ARE READING
His French Rose~ Henry VIII
Historical Fiction(If you like this story, read my other story Bad Habits which is based on His French Rose but in my opinion, Bad Habits is much more well written then this story) What if Henry viii didn't marry Catherine of Aragon? what if he met someone just for l...
