Dear Mother,

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?”

    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?”

     “Where is he?”  Margaret didn’t waste any time being the first to say it aloud.  She tried to keep her voice steady, a simple inquiry, but there was no masking the worry hidden among her tone and her eyes.  “Where is Henry?  It’s nearly noon.”  Her nephew was missing once again and it wasn’t a good sign.  She already heard rumors that he’d retired somewhere with the pressure getting to him, or worse, disappeared by no choice of his own.  Poison speculations, kidnapping by one of the other countries who lingered here, or some torture keeping him away.  She prayed it was by his own choice.  The last time a King disappeared…she didn’t want to think about it.  “He should be here by now or have appointed someone in his place,” she turned to the courtier next to her with some hope, but made no effort to lower her voice.  “What news have you heard about the King?”

      Audrey had not intended to venture far, the weight of Henry easy in her arms though they were already growing tired with the effort. Her recovery had taken considerable time, but she did not wish to be subjected to confinement once more. She knew as well as any woman that it was of the utmost necessity, that it was for her good and for her child’s, but she had not been unhappy to see the sunlight properly again, especially with the season of Lent upon them and the budding of springtide. She had continued to walk to soothe her child, gentle movements urging him to settle. Once he had, she wished to savor the moment. He was warm, and the little tufts of hair tickled her chin as she leaned in to press her lips to the top of his head. 

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Alexandra was not, by nature, the sort of person who paid much heed to gossip. She found it tedious, at best, and at worst, it could be dangerous. Court was a world in which you never knew who was listening to what you said, and so you always had to be on guard.

But even she was nervous about the events of the previous today. The sudden disappearance of the King from court life was a troubling sign, particularly when nothing had seemed amiss and when there was no news. The rampant speculation troubled her - rumors of plague, of poison, of paranoia. The court was teeming with people, meaning of whom would benefit from the loss of the King, and she found herself on edge, cutting into a conversation she had overheard, as adeptly as she could. “I think that we had best pray for the King.” She stressed, hands clasped together. “If, heaven forbid, it is as you say, it is the hand of God that must bring healing - do you not agree?”

   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.