The Other Henry VIII

A New Beginning

Hello everyone!
I am really REALLY sorry for the incredibly long wait. I have been writing this update really slowly and since it was the Holidays, I did need a break.
I have decided to add another part to this book, but after that I will really need to make my mind about how to divide the parts.
We will just have to see.
Sorry again,
RedPanda1203

Part Three

17th July 1522
"I am not going to marry again, Margaret. Not in a hurry, anyway,"said Henry VIII, King of England. He turned to his sister firmly. "I have no need for a wife. I shall simply take a few mistresses on the side and cruise along for a couple of years. It's none of your concern."

Margaret sighed. She took a seat in the armchair across from Henry, trying to catch his gaze.
The brother she knew was not like this. He always needed a wife; he needed a legitimate son. What had Diana's death truly done to him?
"It is my concern. I am your sister and frankly the only person who you can have a serious conversation with. Now you better start talking or you're never going to get over this."

The King, still avoiding eye-contact, rested his chin on his fist. "I don't want to get over this. I've never felt more free in my life."
"You were freed by Diana's death?"asked Margaret curiously, one eye-brow slightly raised. "You must have really hated her."

"No, I didn't!"roared the King suddenly, making Margaret jumped. "Why can't my sister tell when I hate someone?" He flung himself out of the armchair. "I regret it every day. I miss her every day. That is why I don't want to have to go through this ordeal again!"
His sister rose to face him, determined to uncover the truth.
"But what about the son you want so much? Isn't an heir all you ever wanted?"
"I have John, if he is mine. I have Clara, Elizabeth and Esther. Bearing in mind you have one of them in your care, what more do you think I want?"
Margaret thought. Really and truly thought. It seemed a simple answer—Henry wanted everything—but somehow she knew that wasn't it. It was almost as if he didn't know either, as if he was asking her.
"Leave us,"Margaret called out to the servants. They glanced at the King, and he waved his hand carelessly. Then, Margaret turned to her brother.
"I think you want love. True, proper, love and you want to wait for it before trapping yourself in a marriage again." Henry shook his head, sinking back down on his seat.
"No. You're wrong. I want freedom. And I will never marry for love again."

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"I want him to marry me for love,"said Verity heavily. She stared at her sister challengingly, waiting for an answer.
"Well, not that it matters,"replied Marianne carelessly, "since I'm going to marry him." Verity winced and quickly turned her head to the sky to avoid Marianne seeing. The garden was pretty, yes, and the weather was as agreeable as Winchester weather could hope to be. But not that the Westover sisters in their taffeta gowns could care less, they just needed somewhere out of eavesdrop to talk.

"There's no use pulling that face,"said Marianne sharply, "because you'll just make yourself even less pretty than you already are. God, it must be so clear who got the looks out of we two."
"Queen Sophia wasn't pretty," Verity retorted. "But he married her anyway."
"Look where that got everyone,"Marianne shot back instantly. "One silly little girl, three dead babies and a King's broken heart."
Verity took a step away from her sister. "If you speak like that, I won't walk with you anymore. We're supposed to help each other." Marianne laughed.
"Don't be ridiculous. As soon as we see who the King prefers, we will do everything to help them. And everyone thinks he will choose me. You're just there to help me."
Anger bubbled up inside Verity's throat, and she nearly flew at Marianne. Nearly. She wouldn't give up her chance that easily, but getting angry at her sister would not end very well.
"Don't jump to conclusions,"was all she said, turned, and marched back to the palace with her skirts trailing in the dirt.

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Clara leant forwards over Mercy's neck, her fingers gripping his withers. The shiny leather reins hung abandoned at the sides: the Princess had tired of their restraint and needed a little freedom from all this protective equipment her father seemed to have put in place.
The wind rushed past, harshly scalding her ears and cheeks, but the feeling of liberty in the gently undulating grounds was too appealing to stop now. Clara glanced fleetingly over her shoulder at her attendants, far behind her on their modest mares. They were probably calling her name, but that didn't matter.
Suddenly, a small figure came into view under a tree to Clara's left. There was a horse too, perhaps tied to the tree.
This piqued the Princess's interest immediately. It was most likely some stable-hand exercising a horse, nothing too special, but this seemed...intriguing.
"Whoa, Mercy,"whispered Clara, bringing her horse's speed down to a trot and steering him towards the two figures gently. "Let's go off on a little adventure."

When the Princess reached the tree, she dismounted and lead Mercy towards the boy.
He was probably a couple of years older than her; tall, lean—but not gangly—with a sloping brow and messy chestnut hair. Surprisingly, he didn't bow.
"Who are you?"asked Clara.
"Just a stablehand,"he replied shortly. The Princess didn't think it likely that he had not noticed her fine crimson riding habit, so he must have a lot of nerve.
"I think I...I think I recognise you from somewhere..."faltered Clara, recalling his face in her memories slowly. "What is your name?"
"James Goodwin,"was all the boy replied. He pointed to behind Clara, so she turned around to see her attendants still searching for her. "You wanted to avoid them, right?" The Princess nodded.
"I wanted to be free, I guess. I am—"
"Oh, I know who you are,"interjected James. "But I wanted to see how far into this conversation we could get before that came up. Princess."
Clara didn't reply immediately. She still couldn't quite remember where she had seen this face before. And James's accent wasn't as rugged as many stablehands; it was more clean cut—perhaps rough around the edges.
"Do you usually go quiet when you judge people?"James questioned, folding his arms. "Cause if you do, at least try to hide it. My appearance and voice don't match in that clever little mind, do they?"
Clara somehow didn't take offence. He was right, unfortunately.
"I should be getting back." James rolled his eyes.
"Some other time, Princess."
"Some other time,"agreed Clara. She mounted Mercy with ease and smiled at the boy. "I am sure I know your face, though."
"I'm sure you do," he chuckled, picking up the reins of the horse he was attending. Clara couldn't help laughing too, as she rode away swiftly from the oak tree. James seemed funny enough, even as a stable hand. She'd never much cared for being a princess anyway.
"There you are, Your Grace,"cried her attendant in relief. "We have been searching everywhere for you. Where have you been?"
"Oh, I probably just wondered off somewhere,"replied Clara dreamily. She glanced back to the oak tree as they trotted back to the building.
There was no-one there, and nothing to prove anyone ever had been there. It was as if she had imagined the entire thing.

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18th July 1522
Marianne marched into her and Verity's chamber, a grin on her face.
"I have received a letter from Sir Robert Westover. Maybe he has plans for us to get on the throne!"
Maybe not thought Verity hopefully. She sat down on the bed and watched as Marianne neatly tore the envelope open and unfolded the letter.
"What is it?"asked Verity curiously, standing up, but Marianne pushed her back down.
"It's... it's about Leia." Verity's eyes widened.
"Is she pregnant?"
"No." Marianne cursed under her breath and scowled at the paper in her hands with contempt. "The Duke of Exeter, Leia's husband, is dead. Her father says that it was never consummated and that Lei will be coming to court to live with us."
Verity snatched the letter from her sister's hands. Sure enough, it was all true.
"Isn't it—"
"Awful?"
"Great?" They spoke at the same time. Marianne grabbed the paper back again and crumpled it in her fist. "It is not great! We don't need another Westover, it's not part of the plan!" And with that, she threw the letter in the fire and left the room.
Verity lay back on the bed, smiling to herself. If she couldn't stop Marianne marrying the King, perhaps Leia could...