THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY.

❝ Catherine was an attractive and intelligent woman, who combined the intelligence and wit of Anne Boleyn with the prudence and diplomacy of Catherine of Aragon. ❞ —— CATHERINE PARR, MARCHIONESS OF NORTHAMPTON; AS WRITTEN BY CLAU.

[catherinepcrr]

* not rp related: the gifs on my characters’ blogs were made by me and aren’t for public use. i’ve made various gif hunts and i’m perfectly alright with people using those gifs, but until i decide to release them PLEASE do not snag gifs directly from my replies. this is a warning that goes for all my characters – i will not hesitate to contact people if this issue persists. 

[catherinepcrr]

alcxandraparr‌:

open

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?”

                          ––   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. ”

[catherinepcrr]

monsieurwyatt‌:

   “Kitty.” Her pet name felt as rousing on his tongue as her echoed call across the marbled corridor; both could only be placed second to the sensation of her lithe arm once more joining through his. The flaccid silence between them in the passing weeks had weighed on him more than he cared to utter into existence, but the relief she came to him in request (no matter the pending nature of the favor) subdued Wyatt’s anxieties. As of late, he had done too much to curry unfavorable relations with the women who owned his heart; Kitty’s request presented itself as an opportunity for redemption, in a pair of feline amber eyes. “Fate has turned her most favorable fortunes onto me in allowing us to be brought together; though her kindness is minimized by the notion you sought me out. I am more than delighted to aid an old friend, even if the conjecture I shall relish the act is a falsity. Now, pray tell me how my services may seek to aid your endeavours?”  

                                    ❛ Fate has done little in the favor of your deliverance, Wyatt, it was all of my own volition I assure you. I am an untangled woman, these days.  ❜  Catherine sent a smirk accompanied by a wink gayly in his direction, relishing in the blithe and untroubled atmosphere that painted the halls of court in a favourable light in the wake of such grand Valentine’s celebrations. Both tongue and grin were persuaded by the light-hearted nature of their meeting and little coaxing was necessary in divulging the marchioness’ request. ❛ It is your hand I desire, and the mind that wills it. My dear sister has recently returned to court – the Lady Pembroke, yes? I wish to commission a poem for the lady. ❜   She dipped her copper head into the crook of Thomas’ shoulder, whispering lowly to eschew the delight of eavesdroppers,  ❛ we were involved in a mêlée and I know no better way to make amends with one’s own sister short of deigning myself to apologize.  So, what do you say? ❜

[catherinepcrr]

@monsieurwyatt

                                     ❛ Monsieur Wyatt. ❜  The ring of the poet’s name and the melodic tune of heels clinking upon marble merged as one as the Marchioness hurried down the corridor to close the distance between herself and Thomas. Offering her arm in lieu of a proper hello, Catherine looped her nimble limb through his elbow and was quick to usher him into a different direction, one that led toward the courtyard rather than whatever destination he was en route toward before. ❛ How fortunate that we have happened upon each other when I was just this moment searching for you. I have a request – and one that I believe you shall relish to the hilt. Will you spare an old friend a sliver of your time? ❜

[catherinepcrr]

eleanorbrandon‌:

Eleanor had found it to be another beautiful day and so she had chosen to have the tea served as near to the window as possible, allowing her to also enjoy the good weather, yet avoid the cold wind, in case it should come. For a while, she had remained seated alone, reading as she drank her tea, before she approached by another whom were to join her. The words that was spoken, had her surprised and it was clear on her face, as she handed out the tea cup. “ That is the most unheard of.— not to mention very rude. ”  

                                    ❛ Your innocence astounds, Lady Brandon. I often forget you are new to court and therefor unaware of the many... unique methods men have devised to insult a lady. ❜ Graciously and with all the airs of a marchioness, Catherine rejected the offer of tea and instead hoisted a glass of scarlet wine to her lips. The brew was diluted and thus appropriate to take with the midday meal, and it proved beneficial in assisting the calming of Catherine’s nerves that had become frayed and abraded during her thorny run-in with Sir Middleton. ❛ Tell me, is such behaviour disparaged in Suffolk? I do pray the men there better bred than they are in Hampton – not to mention London; they are simply a different breed altogether there, and not one I care to entangle with. ❜

[catherinepcrr]

williamherbie‌:

   “I cannot accept the charge of romantic you lay before me; I believe you to be much for adept at the arts of love then I. Two husbands did not vie for the hand of a cold woman.” He did not wish to sour their relationship with the unhappy notion he did not care, or truly believe in love; his affections for Alex were too muddled, complex, for he to assign them a title. Instead, Herbie relished a chance to gleefully chaff his dear sister for her notoriety as a heart-breaker (widow-maker, if she herself was not then forced to adopt the mantle). “I always believed you to be susceptible to a beautiful gown, or a dog with an endearing set of eyes. Things all women seem helpless in the face of.” Herbie allowed himself a smug grin, caring little whether his banter would earn him a whack across the arm from Kitty; as so often they did. Jibes or small acts of violence aside - he was always pleased to earn the positive affections of Alex’s sister. “A stable boy? The former I can find amusing, but the latter is entirely insulting; that is of course, unless  the stable boy whose acquaintance I lack, posses qualities that attract noble women. Since we must rule out this Ciaran entirely, I do believe Nicholas may be the man who shall earn your hard sought token.”

                                    Catherine rose a brow in response to Herbert’s rather impertinent allusion, the action notifying him to err on the side of caution and tread gingerly in the mentions of her late spouses – such topics were reserved for intimate gatherings, and were not spoken of lightly by the marchioness. She bid that the Parr family and their various branches observe her request, and yet very little was ‘off-limits’ between William and herself, it seemed. ❛ To be sure, I delight in such things, but as my own sister would command us to remember gowns and jewels are worldly vices. I aim to relish them, not fan the flames of their notoriety. But then again, dear Alexandra cannot exist without a book to wedge her nose in – she is utterly dependent. ❜ A long withheld breath husked between Catherine’s lips, tinged with the slight presence of laughter that all but escaped her despite her best efforts to stifle it.  ❛ Oh, Herbie, he is only the king’s most loyal shadow. Henry is seldom seen without him, trailing him like a duckling or albatross. Nicholas it shall be, then. Has Alexandra made any mention of bestowing a favour unto you, or is it your son that she has gifted you with? I hear you are to joust against Edward Seymour; I should like to see him knocked onto his arse by the lance of a Pembroke. ❜

[catherinepcrr]

monsieurwyatt‌:

     Her features so easily became the perfect canvas to house a fierce display of venom and decidedly vexed indignation. Wyatt’s eyes could scarcely register the transition, and he blinked furiously as to render her face placid once more through the motion. Such casually cruelty fell from Kitty’s lips, in the form a shrill laugh, and careless claims of his lack of credentials to comment on her character - they were careless, for she had made her inner-world naked to him years prior, rendering him forever privy to her true countenance. Words would not do well to dispel his notions, nor would fierce displays of emotion or action. As quickly as she moved to discount his claims, bury his jibes in a layer of ice so thick a roaring fire would shrink out of fear. His verbal undressing resulted in a heightened color, which flooded his cheeks in a rose color, and left his eyes wide in a state of indecisiveness; whether to be upset or angry, he did not know. “I have every right to voice my opinions Madam - I more so then many who freely volunteer their thoughts to you. You wish not to, but it is a great lie to to include me in the party which knows you well; perhaps your iciness is tolerable when it is not inflicted onto ones self. I hardly consider myself intolerant - I have a great many character flaws, there is no reason to conjure falsities. I do not mark you as heartless, but I shall not allow you to escape the truth that you speak so unkindly to mask true emotion; as for the purpose of your allowing me into my bed, I shall hope that a mutual desire to assuage one another’s mutual lack of self-joy, perhaps resulting in acts of pity.” 

  Her character was unfolded once more through a recital of her chiding laughter; it did not stir disdain in his heart, but he did not relish the action, most certainly. Thomas was uneasy in such a situation where the actions of his verbal partner did not mirror exactly their physical movements. “Is my countenance so dark as to inspire such faithless comments? Do I appear the jealous type? I am happy for you, Kitty, of course; a delicate man may be the very partner you require to be truly content in this marriage, and it is a pity that you have been denied to lead him in holy matrimony. Your rendering of his character certainly inspired me to seek out his person; upon our meeting, I shall be the picture of civility.” He was far too jealous a man for his own deal; he felt envy at the knowledge his friends found solace in other forms of companionship, whether it be a spouse or another friend. As for his lovers, he never wished to dwell on their future exploits, should he tempt himself in an embarrassing display of furry and childish rage. She denied him the intimacy he craved by pressing the tips of her fingers to her own forehead; it was foolish for Wyatt to be envious of the affections she bestowed upon herself, such a simple self-gesture he wished to be bestowed upon his own person. “You thought of men, then? Cruel, intolerant, foolish Thomas Wyatt - the man not fit to conjecture upon your person? Tell me how you thought of me Kitty - how you relived our moments as I did, wish to renew our vows of devotion, with the painful notion that we could never truly recapture the twilight days of our romance.” Without a regard for the pain she would inflict in retaliation, he pulled her close to his chest, as to lay his forehead against her in a simple gesture of refined intimacy; he would be content if this were all she were to allow him. The greatest inspiration behind his movements lay in a wish to deny her steely gaze the pleasure of regarding his face, while professing words of love in praise of another man. “Indeed, I did not picture the topic of at hand when I was given the opportunity to retain a sense of privacy with you - to revolve around your new love. Nicholas- a ghastly name, the title of a brute; you deserve far better then such. Why must he be your gift and not - “ Wyatt retracted his person as to shake away the embarrassingly vulnerable profession of jealousy - “ If you were to ask of her, I would tell you all that I believed would not strike mortal wounds; but my heart is a complexity you already understand too well - I can love a thousand persons at once, or reserve true affection for a select woman. Kitty, as much as I may tease, or the courtiers whisper behind muted doors - you are not black widow, condemning those who walk down the aisle to receive your hand to death. And if it were so, I declare there was never a happier death for a man then to die by your side.”

                           Fervent condemnation of her person rendered the marchioness’ uneasy and uncommonly quiet. With whetted clarity were Catherine’s sentiments manifested upon her countenance,  rosebud lips twisting and becoming ensnared into a snarl as whiskey-tinted eyes flashed with contempt as thinly-veiled as an inbound storm; the source of her disdain no secret between the two. The presence of ‘truth’ was far from a commonplace at court, and even farther from the repertoire of a poet. So easily had it been skirted about in their liaison, sheathed in glacé euphemisms or stowed altogether by the glimmering lights of pageantry that gripped courtly processions. ‘Truth’ was a tedious thing, dull and uninspiring in juxtapose to a lurid fib,  and yet Cat would beg to differ. In this moment, it was akin to the sharpness of the blade;  it was the serrated edges of a stern, cutting through seas whisked up with vengeance,  as it sliced through skin and punctured at her heart.  For her part, she would scarcely wish to inflict jealousy upon her counterparts ( a roster of extinguished flames in which Wyatt stood out as being the most prominent )  but were it to conjure and clarify the love affair that once fostered between them from time to time, she would bear no qualms.  After all, in such a day and age women were scarcely more than the sum of that which they left behind and relinquished  –––  fortunes, reputations, lovers.  ❛  I fear you have little inkling as to the definition of ‘civility’ and though as a poet I ought to hold you to higher standard of comprehension,  I shall aid you this once. Please,  Tommy,  for my sake  –  Baron Sudeley is not to know what has transpired between us ; not this evening, nor any past. You must have consideration for my standing. I would not survive the publication of our affair, and I could not suffer it again.  ❜

Moving to draw her hand to the little hollow at the base of her throat, she absentmindedly fidgeted with the gilt chain that rested upon her skin. Concealed within the dip of Catherine’s décolletage, the silver-band suspended from her necklace was the only surviving evidence of her union to Nicholas Seymour – a bond standing at the crossroads of devotion and duty, a coupling that had suffered a martyrs’ death in the crosshairs of fire and brimstone. She gave forth a shake of her cuprous head in response to Wyatt’s remark and the ring was elbowed away from the forefront of her thoughts.  ❛  Believe me,  no one was more bewildered than I. Indeed, that a cruel, intolerant, foolish man would be the subject of such fanciful recollections.  But,  you forget Wyatt,  that at the time whatever cruelty,  intolerance,  or foolishness you displayed – I cherished it all.  That man,  who I believe to be a foreigner now,  was at the very least mine.  Silly girl.  ❜  She did not hinder the sudden embrace between them.  Her chin quickly found sanctuary upon his chest and her arms enveloped his sturdy ribcage,  as if no time had passed between their last true encounter and this  –  a stark contrast from the acidic words they hurled back and forth with the sheer intent of burning the other.  Thomas’ words reverberated stridently within his chest and she nodded to them in understanding,  allowing her hands to grip at the rich linen of his attire and her fingertips to bury within his skin,  seemingly fearful of his departure.   ❛  I thought you would return to me after Neville died  –  after his funeral, when the initial shock and melancholy wore off. I thought that you knew that whatever I said.... now and then...  had been in anger and were not reflections of the earnest, most earnest love I bore you.  I do not wish to hear of Elena –  the research I have conducted since my return to court is sufficient enough. I am grateful to her that you are happy, but you must know that I shall never be amicable to her.   ❜   Doe-eyes glanced upward,  and though they were misted,  true to her character Catherine would not permit a tear to shed.  ❛  Tell me what you thought our reunion would be like.  A better reunion than this,  that is.  ❜

[catherinepcrr]

scymours‌:

        No matter what intricacies and challenges had stood in the way of Catherine Parr joining her family, Jane had always thought her to be an enigmatic and beguiling woman. She had liked her well enough and found it to be a terrible shame that they should not be sisters. The little dove wondered who would receive the lady’s favour, or if it had been purposely sewn for one gentleman in particular. Her own silken handkerchief in a pale blue had been slipped up her velvet sleeve, a trinket to go unused. A careless laugh spilt from Jane’s lips as she watched Catherine jostle the fabric in the air, which further emphasised the dramatic proclamations that the Marchioness was making.  ❛  With such efforts, Lady Parr, I hope that any gentleman will appreciate the linen which you bequeath to them.  ❜

                            Amber hued eyes slid slyly toward the fair-headed Seymour woman, a faint grin accompanying the action as Catherine tucked her favour into the ornate reticule slung from her wrist – giving forth a shake of her head as she did so. Hearsay revolving the marchioness’ sentiments toward the Seymour clan were little more than a latticework of malicious untruth that furthered the Duke of Somerset’s aversion toward her, and yet for all intents and purposes Catherine had become appreciative of Jane. Baron Sudeley referenced to her in the highest of esteem and her mild character spoke for itself. ❛ Indeed, one may hope so but men are a law unto themselves, are they not ? Unpredictable or nay, is there someone you have set your heart on to gift with a favour ? ❜

[catherinepcrr]

williamherbie‌:

“If you do take offense to my correction of the sentiment, I have found in my experiences that such a trinket is a precursor to affections surely worth dying for.” He eyed Catherine’s with the same uneasy gaze he often bestowed upon his flamboyant sister in law; a dark brow arched in indignation and amusement as she prattled on, pleased as she often was, with her own sentiments. William remained unclear on whether he detested the woman vehemently, or lauded, even invited, her vibrant spirit. “Pray tell Kitty, what would you demand from your suitors in lieu of a handkerchief? It seems that time and blood have increased the value of your favor. My dear wife has happily toiled over my favor, which I look forward to greatly when the time arises for it to be bestowed onto me. But who, shall earn yours?” 

                           ❛ But then you are a romantic by nature, Herbie, and I am most certainly not; along with the rest of the world. ❜   Catherine gritted her teeth into a most ebullient grin – the transition from casting acidic aspersions to demonstrating playful affections hardly a seamless one, but one that her brother-in-law would know well and frequently mirrored in return, for though his nature was amiable it was abundantly clear that William was ever ambivalent as to his sentiments toward Cat. For her part, she thoroughly relished teasing dearest Herbie, and had taken to such since he first received her sister in the parlor-room of the Parrs’ Blackfriars home. ❛ Undying loyalty. For their heart to be ripped from their chest. The tongue of their gifted steed. What do you think I would require – something less than unattainable ? ❜ The marchioness chuckled and did little to curb the amusement that crossed her unusually flippant features. ❛ You are kind not to heed the gossip shared on my behalf. Half of London seems to think I shall grant mine to Nicholas Seymour; the other half, that stableboy... Ciaran Darcy, I believe. ❜

[catherinepcrr]

cfboleyn‌:

    -    “ You desire an unassuming man? Then you will certainly not find such a man amongst those competing, to do so surely requires firm belief in one’s self and a large sense of self worth; there are very few men at court that could be described as unassuming. ” The life of a widow was by no means desirable and Catherine certainly aided Anne in her disliking of the future ahead of her, though she could not say she was unaware of the facts. Nothing that a woman did was ever truly covert in the court of England, that much she was certain of, so she found it hard to believe that it could become even more apparent for a widow when it was already an established practice; the gossiping was always at it’s hights during such festivities. “ My brother will surely be claiming his wife’s favour to protect him against the king’s lance amongst others, I think it wise that none shall hold my favour but myself. As you say, dearest Cat, nothing we do is discreet and I do so hate when the sport is interrupted by the whispers of gossiping maids. Now tell me, what other qualities are desirable for the man fortunate enough to claim your favour other than being unassuming?  ”

                              The marchioness reveled in such environments – the opportunity to spar with a woman who’s tongue was as swift and sharp as her observations was a gift indeed and one, despite the faux enlightenment making rounds within court, that was often hard to come by amidst a sea of rosy, albeit pastry-faces of court. How she navigated the insipid intrigues of her companions’ lives before Anne stepped into hers was entirely lost on Cat, but she would not stand to quibble with the circumstances. ❛  I suppose you are right – but I do think you underestimate how willing many gentlemen are to please their fathers or wives, hence their names appear on the rosters quite surprisingly. Nonetheless, I needn’t entertain thoughts of granting my favor to one shackled to a parent or spouse. Naturally. ❜ Coppery head canted as she listened to Anne’s commentary, she nodded most intently before swiping her tongue in delivering a pithy response. ❛ It seems, dear Anne, that such a man must also be fictional – for apparently I forgot that all good men were. I do not suppose we could entreat Chaucer to invent a pair of decently wealthy, adequately handsome and reasonably witty courtiers for us to take a shine to.  ❜

[midsommars-deactivated20201109]

Billionaire Boys Club (2018) Directed by James Cox

[nicholaseymour]

@catherinepcrr

[catherinepcrr]

cfboleyn‌:

     -    “ What could possibly be more valuable than the fruit of your labours, Cat? ” Anne mused with clear interest in the handkerchief which dangled before her. There was almost a pang of envy that she had not the time to produce something so delicate and enticing but circumstance, of course, would never allow such a thing when one was in mourning for all to see and remained marred by black damask. Thin fingers quickly reached up to obtain the favour from her recently acquired friend, holding it into the sunlight so that she might inspect the stitching and aforementioned marking with approval painted upon strong features. “ An unaccomplished seamstress could never achieve such detail. I find that a man’s desire for admiration is greatest during times of sport, they long for affirmation more than ever when in a state of competition, so I am certain your lace will be most sought after this day. Thinking of it…I cannot imagine a man deserving of your favour. Tell me, have you chosen the fortunate recipient? ”

                           ❛ I might have shed blood over its creation but do not allow my folly to lead you to believe that I lost sleep over this dastardly kerchief –––– I have no doubts that it will soon be tarnished with sweat and, unless my horse is gifted, further bloodshed.  ❜  With a grin, the marchioness’ fingertips willingly relinquished the trinket, pleased to be free of it for a moment. She glanced to Anne, noting the presence of black damask clinging to her as though a cloak would, or secondary skin.  In the wake of losing two husbands to the grave, there was no one who could sympathize more with a closet fit to burst with dark apparel ––– and yet she pitied Anne’s continued observance of mourning in the midst of such festivities. ❛ I have yet to choose, for I was hoping that you would assist me. I am rather ill at ease with the male gaze at the moment, and I shall require an unbiased source to direct me to the most unassuming man you can find. You will learn in time that anything we widows do shall be scrutinized to no end, so even our most discreet of movements will become overt. And you ? Will your brother, the Lord Rochford, be claiming your favor this morn ? I hear he competes against the king at noon. ❜

[catherinepcrr]

OPEN STARTER / CAT PURR.

                            ❛ Is it not a shame that such an asinine trinket may cause a man willing to lose his life upon a horse to lose all confidence in himself ? ❜  Catherine hoisted the linen handkerchief to eye-level and toyed with it between her thumb and forefinger. As the sun beat down upon her forehead, she longed to daub it across her skin but as she had not yet bequeathed it to the gentleman for whom it was made, she so refrained ––– instead, she admired it : lauding herself for the simplicity of the design, and the nondescript embroidery of her initials ‘CP’. ❛ If women could joust, which of course we cannot, I would desire something far more valuable from those rooting me on. Have you any idea how long this took me – an unaccomplished seamstress – to sew ? I even pricked my finger in the process, getting blood on the lace. What a farce ! ❜

[catherinepcrr]

nicholaseymour‌:

      A renowned vigor set itself deep into Nicholas’ bones, renewing his spirit, giving his limbs new purpose. Was this the man he was, just months before? Before his brother had pulled him into his study? When he was bathed in the swathes of new love, and his fingers had rarely grasped the enameled sides of a chalice? Was this Nicholas Seymour, boots in stirrups, gleam in his smile? It surely felt like it.

     Wired up, and sober, he led his horse along the snow clumped ground, hooves cutting a path through cobblestone and mud alike, cold air flush against his face, until he reached the window of one Catherine Parr. How lucky was she, he thought, to have such a nice window in her chambers, so that sunlight and fresh air might stream through. How lucky was he, he thought, that the latch was always loose.

     In the Valentine’s spirit, he threw a few pebbles against the glass, knowing she was there, trying to garner her attention. The latch opened, and he grinned, broadly, at the chestnut head that poked out.

     “Catherine, my dear! Your noble steed has arrived!”

@catherinepcrr

                          Blood.  Indeed it was thicker than water,  but it was ghastly sight to witness as it pearled from the tip of her index-finger.  The marchioness released an oath under her breath, a loutish curse hardly fit to grace the tongue of the Groom of the Stool much less an esteemed noblewoman, as she resolved herself to set aside both needle and the accompanying handkerchief she had been fastidiously stitching for the joust later in the afternoon. The delicate lace bordering the cloth was now ruined by a trickle of pink, quite accurately bleeding into the thread of the linen. Catherine was no indiscriminate seamstress – she had but once mended her husband’s shirts and in fact detested that convention should compel her to do so, but a marriage of expectation and guilt had inspired her to utilize the wealth of knowledge her mother had imparted unto her in fashioning a tiny, yet exquisite patch of cloth that was now hideous on account of her own folly.

Surely the branches scratching at the window beside her were mocking her. She sheathed her injured finger in a dampened cloth as she rose and promptly waltzed toward the source of the noise, expecting to see children running amok in the courtyard as they often did when the weather was clement. Yet, what Catherine witnessed when she drew aback the velveteen curtains and pried open the window was far from anything she could have imagined ––– she was certain that if she had bided a moment longer to satisfy her curiosity Nicholas might have taken the opportunity to scale the vines winding into her chamber room. ❛ Nicholas ! What on earth are you doing ? My brothers have gone out hunting today –––– you’ll get yourself shot should anyone see you. ❜ She pressed her palms into the ledge of the wall as she leant over its terracotta shingles, ❛ you have come a moment too late. I have ruined the favor I made you and we are fresh out of tea. Come here, so that I may at least offer a kiss instead. ❜

[catherinepcrr]

CATHERINE PARR, MARCHIONESS OF NORTHAMPTON * /  Catherine’s striking attire consists of an emerald green ball-gown, accompanied by black and gold trim and embellishments, velveteen bell sleeves and a damask underdress that is visible within the triangular parting at her waist. Apt for an occasion of such sumptuousness, glimmering jewels rest upon the prominent hollow at the base of her throat, and diamond studs spangle within her dark, unswept mane, highlighting the svelteness of her neck and the sharpness of her jaw. The marchioness’ eyes are painted with an avant-garde dusting of kohl – a contrast that intensifies the sherry-tinted irises peering from beneath a hand-held, silver mask; employed to convey humour and distaste. 

[catherinepcrr]

On 5 September 1548, Catherine Parr, the last wife of Henry VIII, died aged 35, a year after the death of the King.

Historic Royal Palaces

[catherinepcrr]

alcxandraparr‌:

“You are hardly alone in that. Though I think God is not so cruel as to deliver us so harsh a jest, even if the revelation of the falsehood would make the court jump for joy. I regret not being here to honor her properly, even if it was a rather inescapable situation on my part.” There was a mixture of regret that Alexandra found she bore - though of course the birth of her son had been a glorious occasion, she genuinely wished she had been at court more often, had the opportunity to serve out her time with Katherine to its conclusion.

The amusement in Catherine’s voice and expression brought a smile to Alexandra’s own lips, though it was wry. “So I see your mood is not so improved from the last time we spoke.” She murmured, more a simple observation than a hint of disapproval. “I think I have frequently escaped the thorniness that seems to wind its way through your life, dear sister. You were always quick to find the fight.” Her words were not harsh - never harsh with Catherine, turning her head to look out over the blinding white snow. “Your godson is not yet weaned from the breast. I’m afraid I have no way to compare and say if he is advance or not, but praise God, he is healthy and happy, I think.” She turned away from the bright light of the window, keeping her head held as high as he could. “I do miss him. It is a feeling quite unlike any other, cradling your own child.”

                    Pride. Down to the whittled root of the word, it was inescapable when describing Catherine’s feelings toward her sister – though it was often coupled amongst less savory selections, as was true of all siblings. Such was a rarity, nonetheless, that two women should be so close in both age and acclaim, and still entertain feelings of fondness for one another. In truth, there had never been any true vying between the two sisters which perhaps limited the amount of bitterness between them – Catherine’s exuberance saw an end to that, and Alexandra’s marriage to William lowered the stakes. The marchioness had and always would be immensely proud of her Alex ; her discreetness in grace and intellect, the motherly intuition that poured from her like waves of steam. “This is a fight I am quick to end, sister. Mark my words, the whole ordeal shall be drawn to a close within a fortnight and I will be able to resume my usual tomfoolery in no time.” She smiled rigidly toward her sister, hardly considering the remark to be a slight against her person. “Well, I shall soon be able to at least partake in the blessing and cradle yours. I hope he will soon receive the trinkets and gloves I sent him this past week by way of envoy – I specifically requested that whomever is to receive the gift, should tell the young master of his godmother’s unrelenting adoration for him. How does Herbie cope with the separation? I cannot imagine he enjoys it at all.”