While the men were discussing who knows what, Mary sat with her friend. At first, she and Anne sat silent side-by-side. Sometimes it's nice not having to make conversation. Sitting quietly with friends is often better than words. Once the silence was enough, Anne offered tea and refreshment. Her Highness graciously accepted some of both. Over the tea, the two inquired after each other's children.
Edward and Anne have four children already and are expecting another. Their children range from ages seventeen to three. It's perfect because Charles and Mary's children can have companions to play with, regarding the youngest ones. The two ladies discussed getting together soon for playdates. They also talked about spending time in June at Cardigan. The pair didn't discuss the baby's death, and Mary was genuinely relieved. She doesn't want to cry today.
As the time of the day continued to pass by, Mary grew more anxious. Charles hasn't sent for her yet. It only makes her wonder that much more about what's going on. She can't help but think her father has received some terrible news about his health. That only made her worry mount as she waited. It seems the worst part of life is waiting.
Mary took another sugar biscuit. "I hate waiting," she told her friend before taking a bite.
Anne chuckled lightly. "I agree it's hard. I think keeping a good attitude while waiting for something is even more challenging." Then the Duchess shared with the Princess what's transpiring in the palace. "I know this is the last thing on your mind, but I heard earlier today that the Queen has been put under house arrest in her chambers along with Lady Rochford."
Mary's chin hit the ground in shock. She cannot believe the ridiculous child queen has been arrested. Her past must have finally caught up with her. Good because it's a disgrace. Anyone with a history like that should not be Queen of England. Then the reason she and Charles are here hit the Princess like paper hitting a fly. Her father called them here to ask for his son to be placed in their care. She just knows it. Oh my. Oh my!
"I cant' do it," Her Highness blurted out.
Turning to look at her friend, Anne asked, "What? What can't you do?"
Mary picked at her fingernails and told her, "I can't take my baby brother. I can't do it as I did for Elizabeth. It's too soon, too soon after everything. Maybe in a year, but I just can't. Not now." The thought stuck in her brain like a piece of rotting meat. It made her want to retch.
Anne stopped stirring her tea and wrapped her arms around her pained friend. Her voice was soft and full of comfort. "God doesn't allow hard things in your life to laugh at you or to sit back and watch you struggle. He gives you complicated stuff because he knows you can handle it. You were built tough and made tough in Ludlow. This whole season of hurt in your life will one day serve as a point that you can look back on and say, hey, I survived that. I can do difficult things."
Mary needed to hear that. She needed to listen to those words, which sank deep into her spirit. That's the mystery of grace. Grace comes softly and meets us where we're at, but it doesn't leave us the same. Grace gives the strength to carry on and persevere. So the only response the Princess can provide is a sincere "Thank you. Thank you for saying that."
As the two women returned to lighter talk, the Duke of Somerset burst into the room in a flurry of quiet commotion. Everything the man does is measured, even his excitement or unrest. "Anne, Your Highness. Mary, you're needed in your father's chambers. I've come to collect you," Edward declared.
The Duchess and the Princess rose together. Before Mary left, she gave her friend a final hug and told her, "Thank you again. I'll message you about Cardigan and look forward to seeing you there." Anne smiled and nodded.
Then the Princess strode quietly down the hall with the Duke. Her nerves started ratcheting up and threatened to overtake her the closer they got to the King's rooms. She clenched her right hand on the fabric of her dress as she often does when nervous.
Once they arrived, the guards allowed them entry. Immediately different pairs of eyes met the Princess. She stood looking at her husband and father. Both seem tense and upset. Mary came to stand behind a chair and held onto the back of it for support. She expressed great concern for her father when the chair's back felt secure in her hands. "Father, I heard about the Queen's detainment. I am sorry for this. I'm sorry you're hurt and must endure the shame of another Queen's wrongful behavior. I love you, and I'm praying for you."
Mary saw her father's face soften, and he wiped a few tears away. But she needs him to understand she cannot take on the responsibility of her baby brother. "At the same time, I'm unsure if I can do what you ask of Charles and me. I don't know if I have it in me to take my baby brother into our home. It's so soon after the loss of our own baby. Perhaps a few months down the road, we can revisit this conversation. I hope you'll understand and not assume that we don't care because we do. We care about you very much, as do the children. They ask about you all the time."
Again the King thanked the Lord that words were spoken to give the awkward conversations a good entry. Henry walked over to his daughter and took her by the hand. He stated softly, "Mary, my dear Mary. You have no idea how much your words of concern mean to me. But you're mistaken. Here have a seat in my chair." He directed her to sit in his plush red velvet armchair.
As she sat down, Her Highness eyed the man with uncertainty. He never lets anyone sit in his chair. Then she scanned the faces of the other men in the room. They're all the same, basically tense and on edge.
Henry knelt on the ground beside the chair. He placed an arm around his daughter's shoulders, and he spoke. "Mary, you've been through a tough time. I would not ask it of you to take in your baby brother. That would be heartless and cruel." His voice started to waver and catch in his throat. "However, I do ask that you take in your son instead." Even as he said the words, they felt strange on his lips. The lump in his throat grew, and his eyes became moist.
Mary grew silent. She couldn't believe her ears, and a few tears began prickling her eyes. Her face changed into a horrified expression, along with her voice. "I can't believe you would say such a thing! You know I lost the baby! Why would you say that?" Her fingers began wiping tears away.
In a flash, Charles rushed to his wife's side. He knelt in front of her and took her hands into his own. His heart is heavy, his forehead is deeply furrowed, and his eyes are red from crying earlier. But still, he croaked out the words, "Darling. What he said is true."
Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Mary admonished her husband. "Charles! Stop saying such a thing! Our baby is dead. Paisley and Anne saw it. I don't want to hear these lies anymore."
The Archbishop stepped in and addressed the Princess. "Your Highness, if I may, I would like to elucidate this matter. Since you are aware, the Queen is detained in her rooms under guard. Then I'm sure you have a reasonable guess as to why. We don't need to rehash that at this moment, but the woman needed to be pregnant in order to retain her title. She needed your father---"
Henry interrupted the older man by saying, "Hoodwinked. She deceived me in the worst ways possible. It's because of this great bamboozlement you're here, Mary. Please continue, Cranmer." He motioned with his hand to go on while his other one rubbed his daughter's back.
As the Archbishop spoke, Charles kept his eyes locked with his wife's and his hands on hers. Cranmer continued the tale. "Yes. Except, you see, she wasn't pregnant. Catherine faked her pregnancy. She had Lady Rochford purchase baby bellies from a seamstress in Norfolk. One for each of the changing expectant mother's body." He paused when he saw the Princess start to say something.
Through her tears, Mary restated the words, "Fake baby bellies. That's outrageous! How can a person do such a thing without any sense of remorse or regret?"
The white-haired Archbishop let her know, "If you've lived long enough on this earth, Princess, you will come to find that people will do anything for power and fortune. It's pure evil and wickedness. But I'm afraid there's more to this tale."
Mary sat there listening and had gotten her tears under control. At this point, Charles pulled her up and had her sit on his lap. He kept his arms around her, not caring who was in the room with them. She's his wife, and he's going to comfort her. The worst of the story has yet to be told.
So Henry took over explaining the sordid details. He needs to be the one to tell his daughter these hard things. He stood up and began pacing and wiping a few stray tears away. "Mary, you and I have finally come to a place where we're good. Our relationship is good. I know I'm not an ordinary father. I've done many things that I have regretted on your behalf. I don't want to cause you intentional pain, nor do I want that for Elizabeth. I've been a blind damn fool at times in your treatment. I'm just beside myself about this situation." He stopped and cried.
Her father's crying left Mary a little shaken. Shrugging Charles off, she got up and went to her dad. The two embraced. With a shaky voice of her own, she told him, "Father, I love you. I always have, even in Ludlow. I know you better now. I know you love me and don't want harm to come to me. Whatever is troubling you, you can say it out loud. As Charles is fond of saying, we'll get through this together. We will."
Henry kissed his daughter's forehead and wiped more tears with his hands. He pulled a forgotten handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to Mary. Then the King held her by the arms. Looking into her unconditional loving eyes, the eyes only his child could have, he revealed the final part of the story. "The Queen had a fake pregnancy. She needed a baby. So she took one, stole one that didn't belong to her. Catherine hired a midwife. The same one who delivered you of your babe. Your child isn't dead, my daughter. He's alive and was passed off and proclaimed as my son."
Mary's knees gave out at his words, but she didn't faint. Her father caught her in his arms and sank to the ground with her. It's there they clung to each other and wept. Then she looked for Charles and stretched out a shaky hand to him. He came and collected her taking her to a vacated brown leather armchair, leaving the King's open for Henry. Husband and wife sat sobbing together.
The Archbishop and the Duke cried for the second time that day. The magnitude of hurt from this wicked scheme is unbearable. And when the cries grew soft, and the room fell hushed, Cranmer said, "Grace falls down on quiet hearts. Grace gives kindness to ourselves and others even when it's difficult. Then there is grit. Grit is that firmness of character, a tough, unyielding of courage in hardship. When you marry the two, you go forth in grit and are anchored by grace. A strong woman is often made of both. I would wager that you, Princess, are both of those things. Don't let them fail you now."
That is the second time she's heard something similar today. With grit and grace, she can do challenging things. It gave her the courage to say, "My baby was stolen and not dead. Are we certain it's mine?"
Edward Seymour responded, "Yes. He's yours." He went on to explain the midwife's confession and the doctor's conclusions about the birth markings.
So holding tight to her husband, Mary looked around the room at the men. She asked, "Where is the baby now?"
Wiping his eyes with a fresh handkerchief, her father explained, "He's in my bedroom. I had him moved as I don't want Catherine's people near him. There's no telling what they may have done when word got out she has been detained in her quarters."
Charles brought his nose to his wife's neck and inhaled. Roses, vanilla, and sweetness, same as it's always been. He knows what she wants, and he wants it too. After placing a tender kiss on her cheek, he whispered, "Ask."
Gripping the back of his shirt tightly, Mary sniffled out, "Can we see him?"
Henry gave a slight nod and got up to get the babe. While the King left, Charles's throat grew dry, and his heart raced. He held onto Mary as she began to tremble and whispered, "You can do this. It's almost over, just a little longer, My Love." They held each other and waited.
The soft cries of a baby filled the space from the door leading into the King's bedroom. As the seconds seemed to stretch on, a huge lump formed in Mary's throat, and her stomach mingled with knots. Her eyes sparkled with tears. Then her father drew close and held the baby where his parents could see him. But the little one did not like that and cried aloud. Holding out her arms, Henry placed the babe in them.
At that moment, Heaven and earth collided. Mary knew this is her child. When a mom and her baby meet for the first time, it's like eyes looking in a mirror at each other. It's a bond defined by love. No one else could ever know the strength of that love except the one who knows what his mother's heart sounds like from the inside. This child is hers, the one she grew under her heart for nine months. Mary knows this because of that bond with her baby. Also, the babe is almost the spitting image of his father. His eyes, eyebrows, nose, and hair coloring are all Charles. Holding the baby close, she tucked him under her chin and sniffed his clean baby scent. There's nothing quite like the smell of a baby; it's pure grace. The babe calmed and grew quiet in her arms. It's like he knows he's home. Charles and Mary had lost everything, but now it's found again--- lost and found.
The Princess kissed her baby's head and turned him in her arms so her husband could see. But she patted the babe and gently swayed him. Charles leaned down and kissed his son's forehead, as he's done with all of their children. Looking at the little boy, he too knew this was their son. His fingers glided over the child's silky head with fine brown hair. He touched the boy's little fingers. The thought occurred to him that a man is more of a man when he's the father of a newborn. They're helpless, innocent, and in need of protection. It's a lasting joy, being a dad. It brought tears to his eyes that he wiped away. Turning to all the men in the room, the Prince sincerely said, "Thank you." A few more tears fell because he's truly humbled by the lengths these men would go to for the truth. At the end of the day, the truth will always prevail.