useful in all i do

          phillipa shielded her eyes against the light— both the sun and lady pembroke were bright and golden, near-blinding in the afternoon light. her other hand was perched on her waist, clutching at the plain practice sword. “lady pembroke!” phillipa exclaimed, more than happy to see a friendly face. “it is good to see you so well.”

          phillipa nudged thomas, urging him to greet her friend. his tiny bow was dear and charming, and though she thought he would be much more rambunctious at his age (as she was, as her husband was), she still felt her heart swell with pride. “a knight he shall be, and a lord besides—” she knelt down, pinched her son’s round cheeks with joy, “and he shall do us all proud.” she handed her wooden sword to her son, hilt-first, and nudged him towards his nursemaid and sisters. she sanded her hands together, considering. “i think i shall join you and yours for tea, my lady— but you must tell me of your youngest. henry, if i am not mistaken?”

“And you.” She felt she could breathe a small sigh of relief knowing that she was in friendly company - something that she felt sorely lacking in the face of her husband’s near consistent displeasure of late. “I wish I had the talent for exercise as you take it. I think the sword is not for me, though, if I am honest with you.”

Naturally she was charmed by the young boy’s bashful bow, offering him a curtsy in return. “Yes, I think you entirely right, Lady Dorset.” She straightened and watched the boy head off toward the others, her smile widening noticeably. “Wonderful. I have been starved for the company of proper women. My dear sister is entirely occupied of late.” She nodded, brushing back a loose bit of dark hair that was peeking out under her hood. “Henry, yes - though we call him Harry, between us. He is very well. Big and strong. The nurse wrote me just a few days ago, told me he is very well at home. Nathaniel too.” Her smile took on a sad tinge, but she tried not to linger on the ache in her chest from how she missed her boys. “They do a great justice to my family, just as your child do your own.” 

She smoothed her skirt, brushing away a small bit of dust as if the motion might quell her anxiety. “What news is there from your side of the world? Surely it is far more intriguing than my own.”

          “up, cross down— good, like that— parry, then thrust— no, keep your elbow in, you’re off balance like that,” phillipa coached. it was not an unusual sight to see phillipa grey practicing swordplay, but her partner was remarkable, different from all her usual companions. her young son, thomas, stood across from her, eyes wide and brow furrowed as phillipa taught him how to fence. her twins sat with their nurse, nibbling away at honeycakes, watching their brother. they’d learn too, someday, perhaps when they could stand still and stop wiggling around like worms. both mother and child held wooden practice swords with ease, a sight phillipa was quite proud of. thomas was certainly her son— the speed of his limbs and his learning certainly came from her.

          phillipa was fully grown, and quicker, though, and frequently underestimated her own strength. with another blow, thomas did block it, but sheer force knocked him back, stumbling back into someone’s legs. phillipa rushed foreward to catch him, scooping him up in one breath and an apology ready in the next. “it seems our lessons have been too enthusiastic— forgive us.”

“It was my own fault, Lady Dorset. There is nothing to forgive - I ought to have watched my step.” Despite the jostling interruption, Alexandra found she could not bring herself to even be annoyed with Phillipa or her son. She had come to know them well in the past years, and though she had seen Phillipa very little of late, hers was company Alexandra enjoyed. It seemed that she had a fondness for those who were outspoken, even if she herself was not - she could number many such women amongst those she might call friend, and of course her sister too.

“I should think this young man will be the brightest knight at court before any of us know it.” She offered the little boy a smile before turning again to his mother. “I actually wondered if you might want to take tea with me and my ladies, but I won’t impose myself upon you if you find yourself too busy with your pupil.”

Alexandra’s life hasn’t gone quite as she hoped it might in the past two years. Things had started going south during the King’s illness - her relationship with her husband William ( @williamherbie ) strained by his discovery of her religious ventures. What was once a relationship of warmth and genuine affection has felt the effects of more distance than before. 

Life continued on, though. They returned home in the summer months of 1536 and she was able to spend some time with their eldest, Nathaniel. Before long, despite the strained feeling, she conceived and bore another child - a second son, named Henry for their King (though he is affectionately called Harry by his parents.) Despite any difficulties in their marriage, she and William bond at least over their affection toward their children.

                          ––   Lady Pembroke might have elected to turn a blind eye to the hearsay rampaging through court, but one could not deny that it was the lifeblood of society. All those gathered at court, for the distinct purpose of paying homage to the king, would at some point speculate on his well-being, virility, or wisdom. Catherine herself was not exempt from partaking interest, although she had come to realize that one ought to heed such information with a grain of salt. After all, the rumours spread on her behalf, in the wake of her husbands’ deaths, respectively, had been naught but poppycock and fabrication. The marchioness glanced sympathetically toward her dearest Alexandra and elegantly motioned away from the all-too-willing gaggle of ladies they’d been listening to. “ The hand of God may do well to see Lady Howard’s mouth clamped shut. I have seldom heard so much nonsense from one individual. He cannot truly be struck down by plague; what idiocy! The king is young and virile besides, there is no thing to fear but his rage once he returns to court. ”

It was so very Catherine that Alexandra could not help but smile, however briefly the expression might have flitted across her face. “I should think that you would see Lady Howard’s mouth clamped shut for less,” she pointed out in a lowered tone - near enough a whisper so she could be heard by her sister and no other. “And at any rate, surely if plague were among us, it would strike more of us than that, and we would all have even greater cause for worry. Thank God that it must surely be no such thing.” Alexandra sighed, sipping her wine and looking to Catherine for a moment of thought. “I never thought him one to be so inflamed. if anything, I have always imagined the opposite, but I have scarcely had enough contact with his person. I simply think that knowing the late King’s temperament, his son seems - well. Mild, in comparison, is that fair to say?”

          phillipa laced her fingers together behind her back, planted her feet at shoulder width. she paused, thinking, unsure of her answer. phillipa’s theological education had mostly been limited to nuns attempting to press upon her the importance of things like virtues and memorizing passages. most of it had been promptly forgotten, and phillipa was no real debater, no true rhetorician. she had always been quicker to react with her body than her mind or soul.

          but she did, eventually, settle on an answer. “i would think…” she said slowly, well aware that she was espousing common german ideals more than english catholic values, “…that the word of god in scripture and in the holy ghost would be enough to lead people to the almighty.” she cast her eyes back towards the direction of the ornate chapel. “perhaps all this gold and gemstones are for our own vanity— but who am i to question the holy mother church’s institution?”

Alexandra found the woman almost curious, the longer they spoke to one another. She was clearly outspoken, in a way Alex could only envy, were it not on such dangerous topics as these. It was no easy thing, to speak the way Phillipa did, and so she admired her, quietly thoughtful herself.

“They say such things are surely heresy.” She commented, though her tone gave away, surely, that she disagreed. “Followers of Luther or Tyndale might share such leanings.” She paused again, trying to think of the best way that she might approach the woman’s words without speaking out of turn. “Is scripture not meant for the pulpit, as it has been for centuries?”

“I cherish no unhappiness towards you with delight - though there is no use in my further denying the truth in your statement.” His behavior had led them both to be arrested by hostility, yet a vague sense of defensiveness arose in his voice. Alexandra was the soul of benevolence; having strong a brain and sound a judgement as ever furnished a head; that she should be so moved by his mood, was most unpleasant. 

   He had reason to fear her confidence, which he guessed to be clouded with pain, and perhaps mild disgust. She had done no viable wrong against him, nor to their family name; but the viper of jealousy coiled further around William’s heart, blackening all other senses. “Your movements - political natures on the crusade of religion.” In melancholy moods he sought the instinct of attack, as a method to expel all excessive emotion - but in his state, a rift between them was only deepened. “And these other women of the court, whose company you entertain? What of them?” William knew not what end his sought, whether it be a confession or a denial - but he pressed her further, demanding all transparency. That she should develop a piece of her life entirely her own, haunted him.  “Many have made note of your activities around the court, and alliances made with figures I lack intimacy with. It perhaps is not the nature of your actions, but that you commit them at all. Is our marriage not sustenance enough? Has the court begun to be dull, even in the wake of such turmoil?”

Alexandra was quiet again, observing, as she did best - taking in the tightness of his features, the furrow of his brow which betrayed his unhappiness. Even if she knew his concerns to be unfounded, for the most part,or at least exaggerated, it troubled her to have his mood targeted at her so squarely.

It took her a few moments to gather her thoughts to coherency, and Alexandra sighed, her fingertips toying with the edge of her napkin on the table, expression furrowed into a mix of anxiety and mild frustration. “The crusade of religion? I do not understand where you have come by such a notion, unless perhaps someone in court seeks to cause trouble between us.” She knew not why she lied - for security perhaps, or for fear of what he might say. She had never known him to be moved either way by religion, but it seemed better to  avoid divulging her secrets, even to someone she trusted with her life. “The women whose company I keep are all women who you know. None who would ever cause harm in even the slightest regard.” She swallowed, fighting to keep her head high, to avoid becoming a wilting flower under his darkened gaze. “I am not - I do not act out of boredom or to cause strife between us, but merely in accordance to my own wishes. is your trust in me so little that you think I would intentionally act to trouble you or bring harm upon our name and family? You must know that you shall always be the highest in my regard.”

Raising an eyebrow at the other woman’s open way of speaking, Elizabeth found herself respecting the countess more. She hated the formalities that came with court positions, and though she abided by them as was her duty and due to her upbringing, she much preferred to speak plainly and get straight to the point in conversations, just as Alexandra Parr seemed to opt to do in their introductions. “You speak as if I have been a difficult person to track down.. I hope you have not been seeking me out for too long.” Elizabeth stated, more than asked, as she sat opposite her guest. “Thomas Wyatt is a man who cannot be discussed in a single conversation over the idleness of tea. Suggesting that I could discuss the complexities of his brilliant mind in one sitting would be an insult to the kind of man that he is… but perhaps if you have specific questions, I will attempt to satisfy your curiosity.” Elizabeth said, sitting formally as her fingers laced together on her lap. “What is it that you would like to know about him?” 

“Of - no, of course. It has been my own idleness I fear. I had only returned to court several weeks ago, and naturally it was - quite a complex transition, in these busy times.” That was not entirely true - indeed, she had delayed the meeting somewhat on purpose, unsure of what to make of such a woman as Elizabeth Darrell. Her questions left her pondering what exactly it was that she wanted to know - her curiosities were hard to explain, and it was clear Mistress Darrell had her biases, but she was also one of the only people to whom Alexandra could properly turn. “He is indeed a man of brilliance - at least in the short times I have met him, he has struck me with eloquence.” She sighed, picking up her teacup carefully. “I only wish to know more about his character, from your perspective. He has grown close, I think, to people that I care for, and I wish to know that his nature would imply that they are in safe hands for having his friendship.” Again she paused, tacking the next words on more like an afterthought. “I confess I would also like to get to know you more properly as well. I think we ladies must all come together, yes? To properly guide the men in our lives. I do not want to give you the impression I am simply using you as an avenue to come closer to Sir Thomas.”

    Audrey had to fight to keep the exhale of relief from being audible. She hadn’t wanted to find herself caught up in the riptide as it were. She had always been rather cautious at court–but with a child to think about, and her husband’s position, she knew well enough to continue said caution now. Especially when it came to the king, and what could amount to treason. She dipped her head in respect toward her conversation partner, not wishing to be rude as she left, and followed after Alexandra. 

      “It is disgraceful, I do agree. I am regretful for permitting such discussion to continue as long as it did. You are far more courageous than I.” She complimented, hoping it would come across as such. To soothe her worry, she idly played with a strand of dark brown hair, soft and curled slightly from escaping her plaits. “Yes, I am Lady Weston.” She reassured, knowing she should perhaps find offense with her uncertainty, but she didn’t. “I am very well, thank you. I am recovered now from my condition, and am once more truly rejoining court.” She hummed softly, features brightening. “I trust you are also very well?”

“I am certain it was your not fault. There are simply some who are careless, loose of tongue and slow of thought.” She had a gentleness about her as if she were speaking to a child - not patronizingly so, only adding a tone which hastened to soothe, as she could still sense Audrey’s worry. “I do not know that it is courage. Only that I would hasten to help any woman in need.”

The lady was soft-spoken and Alexandra immediately found a sense of empathy with that as they walked together, watching as her companion toyed with a loose bit of hair. “I am quite well, thank you. Only nervous for the King’s welfare, as assuredly everyone is. And my son’s too. If there is illness around, I only hope for his health. He is but a babe in arms, still, and it is hard to be away from him with such uncertain feeling.” She surprised even herself with the words that tumbled from her mouth, face going slightly pink. “Forgive my candidness. It has simply been some time since I have known anyone who might empathize.” She paused, quiet. “I wondered if you might know of my sister - the Marchioness of Northampton? I... understand she is a friend to your husband and his circle.”

It would be a simpler task, operating as a irate brute, if Alexandra did not inspire sentiments entirely opposite of deserving his snide behavior. His ways would be supported greatly by a vain or vapid wife, whose person would suite his designs of brooding. William could not be a great judge of the expression which crossed his face, but her reaction had prompted the unique - and so he could know it only as an escalation of his behavior that day. A vague sound grumbled between William’s teeth - whether it was a humph or cry of defeat, remained unclear. “You think me to be cherishing ill will against you?” 

 He could not deny such an assessment if she had offered it before him; though rather, she had asked him for reason out of kindness, rather then accusation. “Our home is a happy one, and I do not wish to tarnish it with discourse of any kind. My, antics are one matter, but I am concerned by your activism as of late.” When had he ever partaken in matters of layer and delicacy, like she? Only a fraction of her activities had been known to him, and for good measure; if jealousy of two breeds had been born now, it would frighten them both to see the caustic creature he could become. “A new mother should rest -and inform her husband of all her actions. Who have you been keeping company with as of late, Alex?”

“I think you to be cherishing some unhappiness, though whether it is toward me or otherwise I am not sure. I can only guess the former by your silence.” Her husband had a penchant for brooding behaviour, and she knew this well, but she knew also that his quiet and the stiffness of his temperament was out of the ordinary, particularly when they were alone together.

Alexandra set her fork and knife down on the table, quiet as she surveyed him. His words were not as brusque as they might have been, and yet Alexandra still found herself swallowing, shifting to pick up her wine glass for a drink if only to wet her mouth and busy her hands. “My activism?” It made her wonder what he believed of her, or else what he had heard - wondering if perhaps something had been seen or found out. She attempted to school her expression to betray nothing as she returned her cup to its spot on the table. “Only my ladies, and other women of the court. Catherine, of course, has asked for my company.” She paused a moment, uncertain. “I have had some encounters with friends of Catherine’s, in order to determine their closeness to her, but nothing beyond propriety.” She swallowed again, looking at him evenly. “Why? Have I given you cause for suspicion that I have kept inappropriate company?”

          timid was the voice that came from behind her, small and softly-spoken. phillipa turned to face the woman. small as she was, a name soon clicked into place. lady alexandra parr, a dull voice in her head reminded her. countess of pembroke. she’d never met the woman in person, had no opinions on her one way or another. phillipa wasn’t sure what was coming next, but lady parr didn’t seem too keen on scolding phillipa for any perceived insolence. 

            rather, her blue eyes were bright with curiosity, and even though instinct was telling her to back away from a conflict that she couldn’t solve with a blade, she decided after a pause to answer. still careful, one hand planted on her hip, she said, “i am sure the artisans would disagree with me, disparaging their fine craftsmanship so—” a brief smirk at that “— but i would imagine that the almighty is far more concerned with one’s work on one’s soul, rather than any work one might do on a chapel.” 

The words were so freely spoken that they surprised her. Alexandra had always been the most timid of her siblings - William and Catherine had never let anything stand in their way, and had largely worn their metaphorical hearts on their sleeves. It had never been so for Alex, who kept her feelings held close to her breast on nearly all matters. The young woman before her reminded her of them, and thus caused a smile rather than any discomfort.

“Yes. I think perhaps you must be right.” She paused then, wondering if perhaps she was setting foot in some trap. She was certain her inclinations on religion were scarcely known, but years of court life had taught her it was never wrong to be careful. “But if you have the skills, should you not use them to God’s glory, to inspire work of the soul in others?” It was spoken carefully again - softly, so as to catch no outward attention as the two danced around the topic.

Alexandra knew full well what sort of man she had married, as she had always known it from the start. William was always the kind of man who was built of rougher stock. While her family was not highly ranked, she had still been raised in a refined manner beside her siblings, certain expectations laid before her. The same did not seem to be the case for her husband, but that idea scarcely bothered her. If anything, she loved him more for it - no pretensions in his manners.

It didn’t always seem to be easy, though, with a husband whose passions ran deep, practically in his blood. His mood as of late had been prickly, and it seemed nothing she could do would entirely soothe him. Matters at court were tense, to be sure, and the religious season was nothing short of stifling, but still, it baffled her. It seemed better to try and get at the heart of the matter, Alexandra piping up after some long moments of silence as they sat to eat together, her eyes fixed on his expression. “Have I done something to cause you offense, husband? You have scarcely spoken to me all evening. If I have caused some trouble, will you not tell me so I might correct it?”

 Elizabeth hadn’t had many interactions with Alexandra, but she recognized her face almost as soon as it came to view. She stood and placed her hands in front of her waist as she looked at the woman who had just entered. “No, I do not believe I have had the pleasure,” she said, gesturing towards the table in her chambers so that they could both take a seat. “Please. Make yourself comfortable.” 

She nodded in agreement and did just that, coming to settle herself at the table Elizabeth had gestured to. The golden-haired woman was, at the very least, friendly upon their first meeting. “I have heard very much about you, if you don’t mind my saying so. It is wonderful to finally get to meet you at last. I am Alexandra Parr - the countess of Pembroke.” She paused, trying to see if the name might cause any reaction, but then continued. “It was mentioned to me that you know Sir Thomas Wyatt well. I had hoped you might tell me something about the man.”

@alcxandraparr

          phillipa did not often meditate on her surroundings; often a brief canvass was enough. but churches, chapels, cathedrals— those would make her pause. take it all in. so gilt in gold and spangled in gems were they that the buildings sparkled. especially on the sundays drenched in sunlight, making everything so much brighter than need be. it was not time for mass, nor a holy day, but hovering at the doors of the chapel still felt awkward.           “i’ll go blind one day, looking at all this frippery,” she grumbled at the threshold of the chapel. tapping her foot, frowning, she shook her head and snapped “i’ve seen prince’s churches more humble than this.”

Alexandra was not much inclined toward public prayer. It seemed something which was better served in private, where she might be genuine in her thoughts and actions. But with recent events at court, it was almost expected that one might go directly to the source, pray for the King’s welfare and the kingdom’s visibly. She didn’t know what purpose it might serve, truly, but it was what was done, and as a countess, it was expected.

It was mere coincidence that she overheard Phillipa’s comment, pausing behind her and speaking up softly - her fear of being overheard practically palpable. “You do not find the ornamentation to the glory of God?” She asked, curious about how the young woman might reply. “Is that not why everything is so fine? To be found acceptable in His sight?”

   She should have found way to politely excuse herself from the unwanted correspondence happening around her. It was treasonous to speak of the King in such a manner, and Audrey did not seek to align herself with those who would be so foolhardy. She had intended to spend the day with her sweet little Henry, the babe the source of her greatest joy, but she had not felt well all morn and she did not wish to see him until she felt a bit better. When the time came that she did, he was fast asleep and she did not wish to disturb his gentle slumber. She’d been coaxed into attending to other matters, but had not anticipated such conversation to take place. 

     Audrey turned to the newcomer to the conversation, thankful that someone had the courage to speak up where she’d been uncomfortably silent. “I do agree, Countess.” Audrey murmured, “Do you desire to go and pray for his Majesty?” She asked, eyes silently wondering if this would be the opportunity to escape the conversation. 

She was aware of the woman only tangentially, but between growing up with a sister and a newfound mother’s instinct, she had known implicitly how badly the lady had wanted to escape the discussion that was being had. She was relieved by the soft offering of words, bowing her head in agreement. “Yes, my Lady. I think perhaps that would be the wisest use of the time.” 

Alexandra led the way, waiting until there was a comfortable distance from Audrey’s conversation partner before she spoke again, soft. “It is quite disgraceful to speak thus about the King’s own health.” She murmured softly, as if to reinforce her disapproval. “Are you very well, Lady Weston?” She paused, mentally kicking herself. “....It is Lady Weston?”

        The countenance of a royal in the wake of such suspition was one of stoic hardiness, but while their expressions mirrored those of their equals, they were not in solidarity. One person’s despair was a victors conquest. No one dared to voice a fear, let alone think it, not so long as a good Catholic king sat upon the English throne. God’s will, they called it.  If her cousin were to fall, it would be the final stone before the avalanche, utter chaos and destruction would grip the kingdom while brother fought brother for a gilded crown. Arabella enjoyed chaos of her own making, but when she had no horses in the race, well it hardly seemed like something she wished to entertain.  

She dipped a head of sable in agreement of the countess’s words, the embellishments of her own diadem jostling from the movement. “ My dear cousin, King Henry, shall have many well-received prayers. I do not believe he will keep the people waiting long before he once again joins the royal court, ” she offered, saying nothing of her doubts over his welfare. She was not foolish enough to think that her station offered her protection from the branding of treason. 

“I sincerely hope you speak the truth. His return will be much necessary. And come, I think, with much rejoicing and yet much clamoring.” Alexandra tended to avoid the political sphere of court as best she could, but she had learned enough from those in her life that were not so inclined to ignore that world. The King’s welfare was priority now, but once that was assured, a whole new issue would become relevant - that of the King’s heir. His own father’s life had shown how fragile such a thing could be, that much was certain.

She took in the princess quietly for a few moments, fingers clasped tightly together to keep her from fidgeting too much - even though her anxieties must have been very plain on her face. “....Are you very close to him? The King, I mean. With the blood you share, I cannot imagine it is very easy not knowing. I would dread such a thing befalling any of my family.”