Festina Lente

Chapter Eighty: A King's Heart

19th of May 1535 - Hampton Court Palace

Hurrying down the corridors towards the chambers that she shared with the other ladies that served the Queen, Jane Seymour did her best to remain composed while her hand clutched at the letter that had been handed to her. 

It had been discretely handed to her when the messenger had arrived with a letter for Queen Anne, a great show had been made when the Queen's letter had been delivered especially since it was from the King. 

Jane had only been able to sit there and watch as Anne's face had glowed with delight at receiving news from the King, it even appeared that he had forgiven her for giving him a second daughter. 

From what Anne had said, the King had enthused at the knowledge that she had given him a third healthy marriage and had promised to find a grand match for Princess Beatrice considering the matches made for her older siblings. 

Prince Alexander was engaged to marry Anne of Denmark who was a similar age as him, while Princess Elizabeth was engaged to marry Prince Eric of Sweden; both matches cementing England's fall away from the See of Rome. 

While Jane might not have been able to point out where either countries were on a map, she was certain that these matches would cause further religious discord in England. 

Entering her chambers, Jane quickly closed the door behind her before she dared allow herself to look down at the letter that had been handed to her; her heart pounding in her chest at the sight of the King's seal. 

This was certainly not what she had imagined when she had done as Katherine had instructed her and put herself in the King's way, he wrote to her when he did Anne. 

He made such sweet promises to her and Jane knew his words were spoken from the heart, he sent her such beautiful poems that she had never thought that one such as she would ever deserve. 

Breaking the seal on her letter, Jane felt her hands tremble as she carefully opened the parchment out so that she might read his words; she did not wish to tear the parchment and damage anything that the King had to say to her.

Moving towards her bed, Jane sat down to read the King's letter allowing his written word to flow over her; his words flooded her senses, they made her feel so special and she could not imagine that he wrote such things to Anne. 

No, she did not believe that for a moment not when he swore that his heart beat for her; that she was the one that he longed for while he was away fighting to defeat the Emperor. 

Jane allowed her fingers to trace the words that he wrote to her, his writing flowed so smoothly leaving her defenceless in the wake of his professions of love for her.

He could build her palaces out of the paragraphs that he wrote to her, perhaps even cathedrals that could rival anything that Jane had ever seen. 

He wrote to her of the beauty of Italy, made promises of such splendid gifts that he would bring back to her when he returned and how he would ride to her at Wolf Hall when he returned. 

Jane blushed at his words of how he would worship her when he had the chance, how he would ensure that no other would hold his love for she had it all. 

A part of her felt triumphant at the idea that he wrote such things to her, that it was the thought of her that he longed for, that he kept with him on the cold nights spent in tents or the halls of Milan before they had marched towards Florence. 

Jane only wished that she could write back to him, express her own feelings for him despite what she had been told by Katherine and Sir Nicholas Carew.