Fanfic: An Endless Supply of Rubies Ch 4, Tudors | FanFiction
A/N: A History Lesson - The minimum age for marriage in Tudor times was twelve for girls and fourteen for boys, although by Henry's time, twelve was considered too young and most upper-class women were married in their mid-to-late teens.
8 June 1533
Amelia felt at ease when she was with Charles. He had been kind enough to show her around the palace, and even take her out riding in the forest. She supposed he felt sorry for her, since the only real friend she had made in the week she had been living in England was Constance. Amelia would admit that she had enjoyed the few conversations she had had with Mary Boleyn while waiting to have tea in the afternoons with the Queen, but the conversations she had with the Queen were much less enjoyable. It seemed as though Queen Anne despised her, even though Amelia had done nothing against her.
Charles found Amelia amusing, and found that he looked forward to the time that they would spend together. Without attention from the families she had lived with, she must have spent lots of time either outdoors, making her an excellent horseback rider, or in the libraries, making her one of the most intelligent girls that Charles had ever met. She spoke several languages fluently, and was able to hold a conversation with several of the ambassadors in their native languages when she met with them.
Since today was a rare, sunny summer day, Charles decided to take Amelia out to the gardens. They walked arm-and-arm in the shade of the tall hedges. Charles pointed out the most beautiful spots in the garden as they walked, and Amelia told him tales of the gardens she used to wander through as a child.
"Lady Amelia!" a voice rang out from behind. Amelia and Charles turned to see George Boleyn walking quickly towards them. "May I have a word with you?"
The smile that had been on Amelia's face fell. Charles could feel her grip on his arm tighten.
"Of course, my lord," Amelia replied quietly, a smile forcing itself onto her face.
"In private," George amended, glancing briefly at Charles, who still stood beside Amelia.
She looked up at Charles, then back to George. "I'm sorry, my lord," Charles apologized for her. "The Lady only has a quick moment to spare. His Grace is supposed to escort me to a meeting with my father soon."
George's glance shifted briefly to Charles, a flash of fear on his face. When his gaze returned to Amelia, his smirk returned as well. "I just wanted to congratulate you ahead of time on your betrothal. I am confident that His Majesty will approve of my proposal of marriage to you, and I hope that you will accept." He bowed. "My lady, Your Grace." And with that, he turned and strode in the opposite direction.
As soon as George was out of sight, Amelia let go of Charles's arm and, before he could react, quickly made her way over to one of the stone benches by the fountain. Charles followed and sat down next to her. A tear ran down her cheek.
"I do not wish to marry Lord Rochford," Amelia whispered low enough for only Charles to hear. "He relentlessly pursues me, and whispers lewd things in my ear if I stand too close to him."
Charles wanted nothing more than to wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her to his chest. Like most things, however, the gesture was considered inappropriate. Instead, he stood and offered his hand to her. "I'm sure that your father will make a wise decision when it comes to your marriage," he responded to her gently.
She nodded and wiped a few tears from her eyes before she took his hand and allowed him to lead her back to the palace. His words offered her some comfort. She knew that her father loved her, and that he would ensure that she was happy.
"Go through the proposals one more time, Cromwell," Henry said, pacing in front of his window. He could see his daughter and Charles making their way back to the castle.
Cromwell cleared his throat. "The first comes from Lord Latimer, who praises your daughter's beauty and writes of how the Yorkshire air will bring her happiness and good health," he said.
Henry thought for a moment. "No, I do not want my daughter to be so far from me. Not after she was kept for me from so long. Lord Latimer does not come to court often enough for me."
"The second," Cromwell read, "comes from Lord Rochford, who also writes of your daughter's beauty and that he hopes to have many sons by her."
"I do not think that they would be a good match," Henry replied. "Rochford is already contracted to marry Jane Parker. I fear Lord Morley would not be happy if their engagement was broken."
"The last proposal comes from His Grace the Duke of Suffolk," said Cromwell. "He writes of your daughter's beauty and innocence, as well as how he is impressed with her mind, poise, and grace."
Henry stood silent at the window, watching his daughter and Charles. She was smiling as he spoke, and laughing at his words. In his mind, they looked like they got along well. Charles was not married or contracted to be married, and he spent the majority of his time at court. Therefore, out of the candidates that he had, Henry decided that a marriage between his youngest daughter and the Duke of Suffolk would be best.
30 June 1533
"Are you nervous, Lady Amelia?" Mary Boleyn asked the younger girl as she helped her put on her wedding gown. With no ladies to help her get ready, Anne had begrudgingly allowed her sister to help Amelia dress.
"I suppose so, Lady Mary," Amelia responded. "But I'm marrying Charles! He's the kindest man that I have ever met. I do believe that he has been looking out for me since my arrival."
Constance, the only woman Amelia wholly trusted in England, was also helping her get ready. She nodded silently in agreement with Amelia's statements. Constance had observed the smile that appeared on Charles's face whenever he saw Amelia enter a room, and the smile that spread across Amelia's in return. Amelia had told her tales of the time that the pair had spent together, and it appeared to Constance that the Duke might have even fallen in love with her.
The trip from her chambers to the church went by in a blur. Many of the courtiers and all of the ambassadors that she had met were present. Amelia felt giddy inside, but managed to keep herself composed on the outside. She held her chin up, and carried herself as if she were the Queen. She took her father's arm with grace, and together they walked down the main aisle of the church.
Charles felt the breath knocked out of him when he first saw her. She looked almost ethereal in her dress, like an angel. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to be marrying her. As the archbishop read from the Bible, he hardly listened. He found himself lost in his bride's eyes, and almost missed his vows.
Unlike most of the members of court, the majority of the Boleyns were not pleased, with Mary being the exception. Instead of trying to influence the girl in one direction or another, Mary simply spoke with her, and grew to love her intelligence and charm. Thomas was not happy that his son, who only had one job, had failed. It should have been him standing in front of the church, holding the bastard daughter's hands. George was upset because he had somehow let a beautiful creature like her slip away from him, and, to an extent, had failed his father. Anne was furious that her husband had not taken her advice to marry George to Amelia. She was outside of the Boleyn family's control, and that was what upset them the most.
The vows and wedding bands were exchanged, and the whole church was off to the palace for a feast and celebration. The courtiers marveled at the newlywed couple as they danced, fawning over how they seemed to be completely in step with each other. Amelia thanked everyone who spoke to her warmly, and her genuine smile won over the hearts of all of those at court. By the end of the celebration, even Anne was questioning why she despised the girl.
The guests followed the couple to their chambers, as was tradition. Instead of allowing them inside, Amelia kissed her father on the cheek and waved to the people, before the two shut the doors for the night.