The Other Henry VIII

Verity

Thanks so much to Elisabethreign for the amazing edit for the first part of this book. Please go and check it out on her Instagram account, @bbaldorf !
~ RedPanda1203

5th January 1524
"And what will you do now, then?" asked Verity, trying her best not to sound as skeptical as she felt. Richard shook his head carelessly, flicking his hand as if her question were not worth answering. At least he seemed in higher spirits, she consoled herself; his formerly tortured, restless frown had disappeared like the shadow of a nightmare.

They sat together in the reception room of the Queen's apartments, surrounded by brimming bookshelves and paintings. Above the fireplace, the bare wall still mourned the portrait of Queen Diana, which had been removed almost as soon as she was imprisoned.
"Tell Father," he exclaimed breathlessly with the energy of a young child, "Tell Mother. Tell anyone who will listen. Show them what I have discovered!" "And I could not have done it without you, Verity, truly."

The use of her first name drew the intrigued eyes of Catherine Starling to their conversation. After serving three of the King's wives, she had learnt how to discreetly overhear any information that might be of use to her family and slink away once it was all over. The Westover girl had provided no explanation at all to why she had invited the Cavill heir here, so naturally Catherine was forced to find out for herself. She regarded the pair's close proximity with narrowed eyes, and the way they appeared to gravitate towards each other like flowers craning towards the sun.

"Nonsense, I did nothing," chuckled Verity, her bright smile mirroring her companion's. "It was all you, of course. But how shall you persuade your family? Surely they are not so desperate as to believe you blindly?"
"They cannot doubt the evidence of something they have seen with their own eyes," was the nonchalant response. Richard rose to his feet, breathless, eyes bright with frenzy "Come, let us walk a while!"

"Mistress Westover," interrupted Catherine, picking up a small envelope from the silver platter. "There is a letter for you. It is in your sister's hand." Verity frowned. She crossed the room, swiped the envelope from the other woman's grasp, and examined the writing meticulously.
"I thank you, Mistress Starling," she replied coldly, already making to follow Richard out of the door. "Though I am certain that my eyes are not the first to read it."

Once Verity had rejoined Richard in the hallway, she impatiently tore open the seal and scanned the contents. "What is it?" he inquired, concerned by her astonished expression.
"I don't understand... Marianne never writes to me. Not once, these past seven months." Verity drank in the entire letter with a greediness that she had never exhibited before. "Oh my God."
"What is it?" he repeated. She was murmuring in a low voice now, her confusion spilling into reality like an over-filled goblet of wine. "Verity?" It was clear that he would receive no coherent reply, for she was behaving as if his words did not reach her ears. "Never mind. Verity, I have something to ask of you. Frankly, I have meaning to say it for a while."

She gazed up at him with a helpless glint in her wide eyes. "I do not think now is a suitable time." Her fingers were trembling as they struggled to keep hold of the letter.
Richard waved her away in his impatience, taking a sprightly step sideways to position himself opposite her. "Verity, I care nothing for suitability!"
"Marianne has delivered a boy." A pause. "She has named it Henry." Another pause. "She wishes me to visit her."
Panting as though he had just sprinted the lengthways of the palace, Richard shook away her words.
"Oh, Verity. I would take you to the gardens but it is far too cold outside and I shouldn't like you to catch a chill." He took hold of one of her hands and squeezed it. "I think we should marry."

A long and suspenseful silence passed. Then: "Do I get a say in this, then?" she asked with a smile. Marianne's news paled in comparison to the earnest expression of the man whom she knew herself to be half in love with.
Richard seemed crestfallen. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to say it like that. Verity, ma—"
"Yes, of course I'll marry you," she laughed, embracing him tightly. It may have been unexpected but it was so very welcome amongst the doom and gloom of court. "If Edmund can marry a Cavill, why can't I?"