An Endless Supply Of Rubies

His Majesty's Pleasure

Fanfic: An Endless Supply of Rubies Ch 8, Tudors | FanFiction

A/N: Salmonellosis is a disease contracted from the Salmonella bacteria. It causes intestinal inflammation, which leads to diarrhea, fever, vomitin, and abdominal cramps. Symptoms appear 12 to 72 hours after infection and last four to seven days. Most people recover without issue.

17 January 1535

While Charles was away one morning, Amelia decided that she wanted nothing more than to stay in her chambers with John. She only had a few dresses that she wore when she had been pregnant with her son, and most of them were plain shifts. At Westhrope Hall, she rarely had guests to entertain. Therefore, she never had much of a need for fancy, fashionable dresses. Her dresses had started to feel a tad tight, so it was time to start working on some new ones.

Constance sat by her side, helping her to stitch and measure. They chatted amicably, with Amelia telling rumors she had heard about the courtiers and Constance replying with what she had heard from other servants.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted them, and Constance rose to answer it. It was not unusual for Amelia to have visitors when she decided to stay in. She had made several friends at court, and some had even promised to help her with her dresses if they found the time.

Constance spoke briefly to who was at the door before turning back to Amelia. "It is a groom, my lady. Someone from court has heard of your morning sickness and has sent you something that she swears will help."

It was true. Amelia had been dealing with some morning sickness, much to her annoyance. "Thank you, Constance," she replied. "Let them in. I am feeling curious."

The groom entered. He was little more than one of the younger lads, perhaps no older than she. "My Lady," the groom said with a bow, expertly maneuvering the cloth-covered plate in his hand so that its contents didn't fall to the ground.

Amelia nodded. "I am curious, sir, as to what you have brought to me," Amelia stated, putting her sewing aside.

"Mama!" John cried, walking over to his mother on his wobbly legs. "Me up!"

Amelia laughed, her heart flooding with happiness. John had started talking not long ago, and now was able to communicate with her with little to no problems. She lifted the boy into her lap and bounced him on her knee.

The groom felt guilty watching the scene. He had never approached Amelia before, but had heard rumors of her kindness. It was apparent that she was a good mother, even though they were about the same age. Yet he had to do what he was hired to.

"I brought you a slice of salmon and fig fish pie. It comes highly recommended as a cure for morning sickness, my lady," he said. He knew this wasn't the truth. Well, it might have been, but not to his knowledge. The man who had hired him had been counting on the fact that Amelia had been new to the country and mostly away from court during her first pregnancy.

"Tell your mistress that I thank her, sir, and I wish to one day repay the favor. Tell me, whom do you serve?" Amelia asked, taking the plate from him.

"My mistress wishes to remain anonymous," the groom replied with a bow. "She states that she simply wishes to thank you for all of the kindness that you have shown her." With a bow, he bid her farewell and left.

Amelia ate a few bites of the pie before setting it aside. It might have worked for the anonymous lady, but the taste wasn't her favorite. Setting John back on the ground and sending Constance to dispose of the rest of the pie, perhaps by handing it to one of the homeless in the city, Amelia resumed her stitching.

18 January 1535

Amelia awoke from her sleep with chills. Naturally, she began to snuggle closer to her husband, trying to get warmth from him. He stirred in his sleep, but didn't wake. Her stomach cramped, sending a shooting pain through her abdomen. Amelia curled into a ball as much as she possibly could with her slightly rounded stomach.

Then, a wave of nausea hit her. It wasn't morning sickness, but something much stronger, that caused her to leap out of bed to vomit in a bucket. Her stomach churned angrily as she collapsed to the floor, resting her back against the cool wall. Now, she felt hot, like she was standing in a fire. The pain was awful and disorienting.

Charles awoke when he no longer felt Amelia's body against his own. In the crackling fire, he could see her outline slumped against the wall, and he quickly rose from his bed.

"Amelia?" he called out. "Are you alright, love?"

The only sound she could seem to make was a moan of pain. As he moved closer to her, he could see the sheen of sweat on her face, he knew that there was something wrong. Charles knelt in front of her and placed the back of his hand on her forehead. She was warm, very warm. Wordlessly, he picked her up off the ground and cradled her in his arms. For a girl who had been through a lot in her life, she was strong. But now she seemed weak.

He lay his wife down on the bed carefully before pulling a robe over his nightshirt and pounding on Constance's door.

"How can I help you, Your Grace?" she asked sleepily, rubbing one of her eyes and yawning.

"Amelia is ill," he responded. That seemed to wake Constance up. "I need you to look after her while I go fetch the physician and the King."

There was nothing more that Charles could do. Dr. Linacre was examining Amelia now. He tried to keep his mind off of it, instead opting to play with his son, who had no idea what had happened to his mother.

Henry could barely keep his composure. First, Mary had fallen ill to the point where her physicians were concerned. Then, Amelia. Would Elizabeth, the heir to his throne, be next? He hoped that Anne would deliver him a son, a boy who would one day become King.

Dr. Linacre then emerged from the chambers. Both Charles and Henry stood, fearing the worst.

"The Duchess appears to have food poisoning, Your Grace," stated Dr. Linacre, his gaze focused on the Duke. "According to your maidservant, a groom presented your wife with a fig and fish pie, claiming that it would help with her morning sickness."

"Did she mention who it was from?" Charles asked.

Dr. Linacre shook his head sadly. "No, Your Grace," he replied. "I have bled her, and, if she is similar to the cases I have seen in the past, then she should make a full recovery. Unfortunatley, however, I was not able to save her child."

Charles felt his heart shatter. "Were you able to determine the sex?" he asked. He knew that it would be one of the first things that Amelia asked after he told her.

"I am deeply sorry for your loss, Your Grace," the doctor replied. "It appeared that your wife was carrying a healthy male child." With that, he bowed and promised to return in a few hours.

Charles sank back down onto the bench he had been sitting on, a stunned expression on his face. He would have had another son? He would have loved the child no matter its sex, but there was something about having lost a son that seemed to really hurt him.

The King, meanwhile, was enraged. Someone had decided to send his daughter poisoned food through one of his own grooms. How dare someone attack his daughter in his own palace, in her own chambers, and kill his second grandson?

"An investigation will be launched immediately," Henry stated to no one in particular. He turned to Charles. "I think it would be best if Amelia returned to Westhorpe as soon as she is able, and John as well. They will be much safer there."

Charles looked down at his son. "Mama sick?" the tiny boy asked.

His father nodded. "Yes, Mama is sick," he responded. "But she will be better soon, and then you will go back to Westhorpe, where you were born."

John seemed to think about this for a moment. "Okay!" he responded, a big smile on his face. Charles couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. He was going to miss his son. As much as he wanted to go back home and never leave his wife's side again, he was needed in London.

Rumors of Amelia's illness spread quickly, much to Thomas's delight. He had been successful. The bastard had lost her baby, and now she was said to be returning to Suffolk without her husband. That meant no more little children ruining Anne's children's chances of becoming heirs. The last step that stood between his grandchildren becoming kings and queens and Amelia becoming an heir was that annoying brat John. Eventually, he would find a way to fix it, hopefully by law or act, but until Anne delivered the child she was carrying, he would let the little family mourn. Oh, what an evil man he truly was.