An Endless Supply Of Rubies

Lady in Waiting II

Fanfic: An Endless Supply of Rubies Ch 15, Tudors | FanFiction

A/N: Frances Anne Hastings (b. 1533) was the daughter of Catherine Pole and Frances Hastings, 2nd Earl of Huntingdon, who was the son of George Hastings, 1st Earl of Huntingdon and Anne Stafford. Shortly before Anne's marriage to George, she was rumored to be found in her room by her brother, Edward Stafford, 3rd Duke of Buckingham, with Sir William Compton. In the show, Anne is depicted as Edward's daughter, caught with Charles Brandon, and then married to Sir William Compton. We'll follow history on this one to make it a little less awkward all around.

25 January 1536

An alliance between the King of England and the Holy Roman Emperor would not be easy, Cromwell decided. They both had very different ideas when it came to how the alliance should go. The King was stubborn when it came to the Act of Succession, but there was no way the Emperor would accept that Elizabeth should ascend to the throne over Mary or Amelia.

"His Excellency, the Imperial Ambassador," Cromwell's herald announced as Cromwell was going over some of the letters he had received from various ambassadors.

Cromwell looked up, a slight look of surprise on his face. Eustace's visit was entirely unexpected. "Excellency," he greeted as Eustace entered and took the seat across his desk.

"I wondered if you had put the Emperor's proposals to the King," Eustace said, not bothering with pleasantries and getting right to business.

Cromwell smiled uncomfortably as he folded his hands. "Not exactly," he replied. He leaned forward and paused for a moment, trying to put his thoughts into words. "I wish with all my heart that we could reach a speedy accommodation, however, in the question of legitimizing the Lady Mary and the Lady Amelia, there remains one great obstacle."

"You mean the Queen," Eustace interjected. When Cromwell didn't respond, Eustace took it as a cue to continue. "I know she hates the Emperor as Catherine's nephew. They say that when she was told of his victory over the Turks, she looked like a dog being thrown out of a window. But what can we do?"

"If there is an obstacle in our path, Excellency," Cromwell responded, "we must find a way around it."

It was a few more moments before Eustace left. Cromwell went back to his thoughts. It would be in England's best interest to have an alliance with the Emperor. Getting the King to agree to a change in the line of succession, as long as Anne was still around, would nearly be impossible. There would be a better chance of at least convincing him to put Amelia and her son into the line of succession is Anne didn't stand in his way.

29 January 1536

"It's true, what they have whispered," Henry muttered, partly to himself and partly to Cromwell. His wife had just lost his son, his only son. "I shut my ears to them, but now I know it to be true. I made this marriage seduced by witchcraft, and for that reason consider it to be null and void, and the evidence is that God will not permit us male issue. So now I believe with all my heart, that I will take another wife."

Amelia and John had been enjoying a long morning stroll in the gardens with Lady Catherine Pole when Charles found her. Though it was quite chilly outside, Amelia enjoyed the feeling of the fresh winter air against her skin. It was calming and refreshing. She was very glad to find a friend in Catherine Pole. Catherine was pregnant as well, and had brought her daughter Frances along for the walk as well.

"I think John is quite taken with Frances," Amelia said with a laugh, watching the two run through the snow.

"I agree," said Catherine. "Perhaps there is a marriage in their future."

The two women laughed. It would be a good match, of course, the future Duke of Suffolk and the eldest daughter of the Earl of Huntingdon.

Charles approached the women with a solemn look on his face. Amelia's smile slowly faded into a frown. "What is it? What's wrong?" Amelia asked, her voice laced with concern. "Has something happened to my father?"

Charles opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it, turning his head away. "The Queen has miscarried her son," he said quietly. Both Amelia and Catherine gasped. "There are rumors going around court that the Queen might be losing favor with the King, and if those are true, then I don't know what lengths Thomas Boleyn will go to in order to keep his power. I want you to go back to Westhorpe with John."

"No, I can't go to Suffolk, not now, not if there is change on the horizon," Amelia responded. "Put as many guards as you need to place on me to feel safe. But I need to be here, Charles, because if I go home, then you will remain here for God knows how long." She took his hand and placed it softly against her stomach. "Besides, I would not want you, nor my father, to miss the birth of our second child."

It seemed like a long time before Charles nodded. "At the first sign of danger, I beg you to listen to me and pack your bags," he told her quietly before kissing her cheek.

"Papa!" a small voice called. John ran over to his father, followed closely by Francis.

Charles laughed when he saw his son and scooped him up, lifting him high above his head before placing him on the ground and kneeling down. "John, my boy, who is this lovely young lady behind you?" he asked.

"This is Frances," John told his father. "Lady Frances Hastings. I'm going to marry her one day."

"You are, are you?" Charles asked. John nodded, and Charles smiled. "Well, then it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Frances," Charles said with a bow.

The small girl giggled and curtsied in response before running off once more with John chasing her. Even though Charles had business he was supposed to attend to at court, he decided that he deserved a short break, and took his wife's hand, lacing his fingers with hers. Charles, Amelia, and Catherine continued to walk through the gardens, speaking of familiar things and watching the children play ahead of them, their energies a welcome distraction from the stress and tensions at court.