An Unlikely Heir

As Mary had predicted, the delay in their union, and the idea of such, had caused much conflict among the people of France, the Catholics and Huguenots restless and craving blood shed. Although the country remained mostly at peace, it was still the duty of the Valois to maintain control, using military action as needed. Her fiance had been chosen to lead an army, Mary herself though foolish with how young he was, hardly even a man. And yet, she felt twinges of sympathy, only able to imagine how crushing the idea of suiting up in full armor on horseback to mayhaps die could be, sensing hesitation as the Prince road off. She had promised she would remain loyal to the man she was to wed, penning letters ever single week to him in hopes of keeping his spirits alive, as well the alliance that kept England from fully mobilising their own troops to defend there protestant brothers. 

The woman stood with the members of the royal family, her crimson frock draped in furs to keep to cold off her small frame. Her red hair remained neatly dressed, the white veil of her chiffon hood blowing gently into the wind. Her cheeks flushed brighter when her betrothed approached her, shocked at his sudden change in nature, and touched he would chose her after his mother to greet.

“My Prince. I am glad to see you so well. I feared your injury to be more grave than it is,” She started, stopping when he offered his apologies. Did her letters actually have a purpose, softening him slightly to the idea of him being her wife. 

Henri would never admit that his pride was injured by her apparent displeasure with this match. While he had every reason to complain, this Englishwoman found herself in a most coveted position and had the gall to be disappointed. 

Turning from his betrothed, the Dauphin brushed away her words with a careless gesture. “You do not understand the dynamics of French court. My brother may indeed wear the crown, but the power resides with my mother. As she desires only the best for me, she will see to it that you return from whence you came. Or perhaps she’ll arrange for you to marry the youngest Valois. You two would be far better suited.”

Mary’s mouth began to grow dry as each sentence she spoke worsened the situation at had. She was a disappointment to her betrothed in all aspects it seemed. In other cases, the woman would have accepted her defeat, but there was no losing this battle. Her life depended on it, know her Cousin would find a way to punish her for losing this much needed alliance. She had been more than happy this handsome Prince when she first set eyes on him, but each moment she spent with him made her feel nothing but disgust and displeasure over this arrangement. 

Butterflies churned in her stomach as Mary walked into the throne room, waiting to be greeted by her future husband and the Queen Regent, the formidable Catherine de Medici. It was said even her cousin, the famous Mary Stuart would be present. The girl could her the whispers of those in attendance for the momentous occasion, staring at her as she ascending the staircase, the train of her teal silk gown floating against the smooth stone like an ocean hitting the shore. She may have looked the part of a possible future monarch, her beautiful tudor red curls scenting with lavender, flowing down her back under her scarlet french hood. Even her skin, untouched porcelain, was tinted with the signature rose hue that was notable in the English court. And yet she felt like a liar, the furthest example of what the Tudors stood. While her ancestors were all giants, Mary at nearly seventeen was nothing but a child, the size of one of twelve years, her clothing the likening that the fools wore to be miniatures to their monarchs. Her steps, heavy as she main her final progress, drowned out the harsh criticism. She may have looked like a perfect doll, but little did they know what hid under her corsets.

“Our revels now are ended...”

I present to you the photos of me as Mary Grey from the 2018 season of the New York Renaissance Faire

Elizabeth smiled a little bit at her cousin seeing her so excited. It was true, she would not have Mary fall behind in learning. She was cousin to the queen and her education would be tended to as such. And when the time came if…she shook off the thought and held her hand out for Kat to take and leaned close to make sure the woman was warm enough and up to the jaunt. When she was reassured she squeezed her hand and even kissed her cheek before releasing her. 

Slowing just slightly to let Kat move more comfortably she chuckled softly. “I felt the same about Aesop, and Aristotle. I translated them until my eyes burned into the late hours of the night. They were my constant companions when I was in Hatfield.”

“You will not just be learning literature though. I will also ensure that you are taught maths, history, languages, all of the same that a cousin to the queen should know. Take it as…a way to start over. After everything. You are young and we need to keep you on the right path so that you do not go down a treacherous or worse one filled with only empty gossip.”

The girl had worked hard to prove she was hardly a threat to anything, and really her sister was too flighty for her to worry about too terribly much. Though she kept close eyes on them. The tutor would not interrogate Mary, she would not allow that, but it was a way for her to keep an eye on her, keep her hand on her, and keep her from being swayed by others. 

The idea of having such a highly education, on usually reserved for the son’s of the elite, made the girl’s heart burst with bliss. She remained collected, but it was easy to see just how much joy the thought of such gave, her small face usually plastered with a neutral, almost sullen, expression, changed to a permanent smile. Next to her sister, the picture of beauty, it was clear that they were sisters. Katherine always smiled, her white glimmering teeth known to light up the darkest of rooms, and now Mary’s own grin did the same. 

“We should compare Translations one day, Your Majesty. I have a few commonplace books filled with such.” Growing up with ailments lead to her staying inside while everyone else traced the country side, hunting the stag, and with no one to keep her company, her books had become her friends, her writings like letters to a friend in another country, and she saved everyone of them to show herself how much she had improved over the years.

“I am truly not worthy of this reward, Your Majesty. I shall work hard in all subjects to prove myself.” She beamed. She knew she would be tormented by the maids for this gift. Laetitia had never been offer such educations, and she was known as being the queens favorite. Katherine, Mary’s own dear sister Kitty, would need to know much of the subjects the youngest Grey would be studying if she were to be Queen someday, as King Henry and King Edward’s wishes outlined. 

“It’s not about how it will make the other feel or say, what matters is how it would make you feel. A gown can make or break a queen’s address, can boost one’s morale or play up a different feature. It is up to you Mary. I am not forcing it on you, but she would help you if you allowed it.” Kat could well remember the time that Elizabeth had played the morose Protestant garb to her favor. After that Seymour fiend. Trying to convince the others nothing had happened, God would she not give to have separate the man’s head from his shoulders herself but for now that memory would need to be pushed down lest she take her walking stick to some innocent vase.

“Your sister, Jane of course, and Elizabeth used to be up to late hours comparing their translations. Eliza….her majesty has always been fond of Aesop. Anything she could get her hands on. When she was young she actually heard Blanche singing in her native Welsh and demanded she teach her right then and there.” She chuckled softly at the memory. Elizabeth, her little lovey at the time, had been so forwarded and demanded it of the woman. And the poor woman had been terrified. Fearing repercussions or something. It was a bonding moment for the two, one she was glad for as she continued to age.

Adjusting the blanket over her lap she smiled softly. The business with Jane had been unfortunate. The damned Dudley man, it was why she whispered and pleaded Elizabeth keep as far away from Robert Dudley as possible. He would turn on her the moment he had power, just like his father mark her words. And she would fight him, fight to protect Elizabeth with her very dying breath. Shaking her head she nodded. “Keep it close to you, it is a treasure. One always needs little trinkets from those they love. To keep them close, to keep their memory alive.” Kat had a couple of frocks, some dried flowers, her first translations, Lord she must have the first time she wrote her name by herself. All the jewels, all the expensive things Elizabeth gave her now they were nice but nothing would compare to those that she kept hidden in a chest.

Mary was never one to argue, seeing first hand what disagreements lead to. Jane was frequent to disagree on the teachings of the bible, refusing to accept any teachings the Catholic church tried to force on her. She argued with father about her marriage to Guilford. Her pious personality stuck with her until the end, unbending scruples being her death clothes. It had become Mary’s own credo to not follow in either of her sister’s foot steps, to stay silent, obedient and allow other’s to bend her whatever way they want. Those who seemed meek were least likely to be suspected of treason. She silently nodded to Kat Ashley’s advice, knowing well her words were true, but still unable to convince herself it was not all in good faith. 

“I shall consult with Mistress Parry in the morning. Luckily my measurements remain status quo.” Shouldn’t she have had a bust line by now, a widening of the hip. She hoped such would come, the changes of a blossoming woman. Mayhaps, she thought, she was a late bloomer. Wasn’t it said by someone the last flower to open was always the most beautiful. She huffed internally at that, wanting whoever thought such words to take a look at her.

“I adore Aesop’s Fables....It’s been years since I’ve held a copy.” Mary felt the tension of their previous conversation float away at the change to books and genuine memories, glad to have the attention focused on the queen and not herself. “It’s always interesting to see just how much Her Majesty and I have in common.” the girl mused. And yet there were not entirely close, their conversations always pleasant and civil, but not of the nature that came with being a favorite, laughter filled and deeply personal. To be honest, Mary enjoyed things how there were, suddenly regretting her lapse in the moment, knowing Mistress Ashley would mention such to the Queen. 

Silently she nodded again, her fingers leafing through her book mindlessly. She would never let go of anything in that box, all carefully selected over the years. Mary had even kept the rosary Queen Mary had given her when she had been selected as a Maid of Honor, the ornate coral bead and gold chain buried at the bottom, never to see the light of day again. It may have been frowned upon to hold such, but she could not ride herself of memories that held much significance.