𝐀𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐓 ⸻ but like i said , what’s god to a woman’s love anyway ? what has heaven got that i can’t find sitting next to you on a cool autumn morning ?
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@robsartd
𝐀𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐓 ⸻ but like i said , what’s god to a woman’s love anyway ? what has heaven got that i can’t find sitting next to you on a cool autumn morning ?
introduction ⸻ full statistics ⸻ pinterest ⸻ spotify ⸻ tag drop .
Jane had been absent from court simply due to her husband who had been away either with her own father, or to his own family. At any case, Jane had been secluded to Warwick Castle, where she doted upon her mother when she was not passed to her cousins’ countryside household to act as a companion to Kismet Dudley, or as a caregiver to her cousin’s wife’s children from a previous marriage. Her loneliness had, at least, emboldened her sense of self, her prayers leaving her devout to her moments alone. It had only been upon the pregnancy of Amy Robsart had she been asked to accompany her cousins to court again, more so as their guest than to her husband, who was still far from her side (not that she was against that, for to be without he was only a blessing).
She remained by Amy’s side then as they entertained the masses with the presence of the Dudley household, ritually checking on her cousins with tender touches or sweetened whispers, straying often to Amy Robsart side when Kismet was not in need of her attention. Passing a cup towards the Countess, Jane sat by her side, arranging her veil over her head to expose the smile towards her cousin-in-law. “How do you feel? Is there anything I may do? Perhaps another cushion, or something sweetened?” She asked, doting on Amy as if she herself felt the kicks of a new life inside of her — the rest of the room then fleeting, for even if the King himself approached, Jane would not overlook her duty. @robsartd
the dudley family of warwick castle had always been a little more than mere strangers to the countess of leicester, connected to her husband by nature of their shared blood and family name but little else. as a newlywed, she had been hesitant to reach out to the countess of warwick for guidance or sympathy, concerned that her humble birth would be reason enough to spurn the outstretched hand of friendship ─ instead, it had been easier to prompt kismet to invite her cousin over in a careful move that allowed her name to slip into idle conversations until it had not felt so foreboding to approach the elders of the family with the introductions to her person and her morals already being made by jane and kismet both. she had always enjoyed the company of lady warwick, who was of a similar age to herself, so when she had been given leave to invite a few others to accompany her and watch the children as her belly grew larger by the week, there had only been one name that came to mind. still believing herself undeserving of such attention, however, she endeavored to keep her requests simple, not wishing to tax poor jane or rob her of a chance to shine in court now that her aged husband ( older than her own father ! amy had dropped to her knees in prayer when the match had been made, thanking god in one breath for her good fortune in securing a dashing, virile husband and asking the almighty to be kind enough to give jane a reprieve from her marital duties in another ) was far from her side.
it was not difficult to be endeared by jane who, like kismet, still possessed the innocence and beauty of hopeful youth that amy had long since forsaken and she extended an arm to grasp jane by the hand as she neared, pressing a kiss to her cheek in thanks as she accepted the cup of mulled wine. ❝ better now that you have returned to my side ... sit a while, you have made yourself so busy that i cannot tell the difference between you and the bees that float from flower to flower. ❞ patting the space beside her, amy shifted over with one hand braced on her modest bump, hidden well enough beneath the layers of fabric for now. ❝ tell me, how is kismet ? has she set her eyes on a poor, unsuspecting gentleman for the evening ? and yourself, my darling ! what is your opinion of our great king and his court ? it has been a while since you last came to court, yes ? ❞
𝐀𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐔𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐘 as the goddess amphitrite.
depicting the goddess of the sea, loud - moaning amphitrite who was born a sea - nymph and rose to become consort of the sea god poseidon ( appropriately portrayed by her husband, robert dudley ), the countess of leicester seems plucked from the ocean waters itself and placed beside the dowager queen, her mistress during the beginning of the pageantry. though news of her expectant state have been circulating through court, kept in whispers owing to the early stages of the pregnancy, she conceals it well with her costume of pearls, shells and diamond - studded silks.
modestly covered in a pale beige fabric that had been dyed a powdery blue at the hem to give the illusion of her rising from the seas, the dress is structured according to her typical style of dress but the bodice is decorated heavily with an array of shells sewn into position to cup at her breasts and cinch at her waist. it tapers off by her hips into a diamond - studded skirt with larger gems of blues and greens ( along with more shells ) lining the hem and adding a pleasant tinkling sound when she walks. upon her neck are several strings of pearls that entangle in her shell - bodice by the end of the evening where she is found lounging on a chaise watching the last of the entertainment, gaze heavy - lidded with exhaustion.
a page delivered two letters to the chambers of the married dudleys, one addressed for robert and another addressed for his wife, amy. the writing is loopy, clearly written with a careful determination, as if the author had spent hours by candlelight composing these words. the letter is lengthy, taken up a full three pages of parchment, and is filled with minute details of kismet's life in her good sister's absence. below, one may find an excerpt from the letter. | @robsartd
....
i am writing to plead for your forgiveness, beloved sister of mine, and that you may use your tongue to persuade my brother to not be cross with me as well. i have devoted my time dutifully to the princess, as you instructed me to do so ... amy, i am uncertain the transgression that i dared to take against her. there is little rhyme or reason to her anger with me, yet i feel it as one does a heavy storm cloud! it is constantly haunting and pouring onto my being. every morning, i am sent away to attend to the most vile of tasks that one may think of. i swear, i do not raise objection, nor twist my tongue in complaint, though it weighs on me. every evening, i am called again, to help her undress and haunt the shadows of her chambers till i am sent away once more. the days are horribly, dreadfully long now - with little joy to seek in them. without your presence i cannot help but weep, praying for your swift return to hampton so that i may feel less of an outcast in turbulent waters. perhaps you may supply advice to how i may seek forgiveness from the princess and claim her good graces once more.
...
your troubled sister,
kismet.
as devoted as any sister, the countess of leicester responds to each line written by the hand of her good sister, well aware of the care that kismet had placed in each word. the contents of her responding letter is as tediously detailed as the one before though historians will fixate on the excerpt below when investigating the life and death of robert dudley's first wife, amy robsart.
[ ... ] and if you would be so kind as to kiss robin and nan for me as thanks for their concern towards their unborn sibling, i would be most appreciative, enough that i might barter for a roll of spanish silk for the design of your next hood.
my sweet sister, allow me to reassure you that the sudden change in your standing before the princess is no reflecting of failure on your part and if your brother finds cause to express disappointment in this revelation, you will write to me at once so that i might straighten his head on the matter. you are an innocent in the crossfires of a conflict that has been ongoing since before you were taken under her plummy wings and all i can advise you to do is remain silent and pray that this storm passes quickly. remind the princess of your devotion to her happiness and your discretion to her secrets should she share such matters with you once again but do not be afraid to remind the vultures that surround her, eager to place themselves in your former seat within her favored ladies, that you are a dudley of kenilworth and that your brother is robert dudley, the fearsome earl of leicester, who still holds the ear of the royal family. oh kismet, my dearest heart, how i wish i was by your side to aid you through such struggles and dry your tears so that you are not alone in the tumultuous waves of the princess' tempers ─ again, i must ask you to cast away all thoughts of self - blame. you are not at fault here.
if it would not get you into further trouble, i would bid you to tell the princess that he suffers as greatly as she does, bringing torment to me and to the babe with his unhappiness in the hopes that the news would bring her wretched self some great delight in the knowledge that while we are happy, we are still unhappy. burn this letter, kismet.
we will speak more of this when i return. forgive me, sister, for all that has happened.
[ ... ]
your contrite sister, amy dudley.
Potted, cragged, swollen with insistent rain: the ancient Roman roads stretching from London to Dover made intolerable the hard ride from Hampton Court. The furrowed brows, wan faces, and occasional red-rimmed iris among the King’s entourage suggested it was not just the Dudleys who suffered from the biting, incense-thickened air, the relentless humming of the clergymen limping about, swinging their heady censers and crosses like weapons, warding away sickness, staving off the encroaching fog, the rain like whetted arrows pouring from the skies. Miserable, Leicester spat, this overwhelmingly frivolous display, as he looked about and found William’s entourage riding by like a guild of pilgrims, rather than a royal court – so habitually famed for its luster, horns blasting, stags bounding majestic, all eyes ablaze with happy furor and cheeks reddened by whipping wind, pomp and circumstance and gold banners brandishing about.
Now, the troupe trailed limply, colorlessly, all the way to Dover – like unwilling sacrifices – the news of Seymour’s rebirth dampening the spirits of the court.
Not even the King’s people, usually so eager to line up in the towns which the court passed unblinkingly, straggled to catch a glimpse of him, red-gold hair piercing through the mist, a gaggle of delighted gasps following, blackened fingertips jutted out to grab hold of an inch of his majesty, a vanished mystique. And, of course, not a one stuck their necks out to see if Elizabeth and her decorated ladies trailed behind, for they hadn’t. She hadn’t. And, as rain hung like blood to Dudley’s feathered cap, he knew that there would be no more of her entirely: Elizabeth Tudor was dead to him, a red-gold wraith of the past, bobbing at the tail of his eyes. Why, then, as he flayed open his doublet and tossed it to the window bench, rain-soaked fabrics usurped with fire-warmed furs, did the thought clout him with a sort of murderous rage? This searing agony? Was this Divine?
Wordlessly Robert Dudley undressed and re-dressed, for there was nothing left to speak: not to himself, nor anyone else. As he wrested the gold chain from his neck and the locket from his wrists, he thought of the Irish triad that haunted his early expeditions to that emerald isle, and grimaced, the lines of his face crowded with ghosts. ‘Three things that are worse than sorrow: to wait to die, and to die not; to try to please, and to please not; to wait for someone who comes not.’
Dudley’s gaze snapped to Amy, lingering in the doorway, as she spoke. She looked herself, today, standing by the sleek, gilded archway: a newcomer to noble ranks. Out of place. The woman who for nearly half a decade his kisses had rained like Manna upon – her face, the hair that streamed over her shoulders, neck, breasts, thighs. He’d felt her tremble against him. Dug into the blades of his shoulders as he heaped her up against the mattress of their marital bed, driven into her with an intense and intoxicating desire, filled with his seed, for Amy Robsart at once his and something else entirely. Passive, yet not passive; a yielding presence. The dutiful wife; the loving mother; Helen before the war. Why, then, he again asked, did God now see fit to bless them with a child? His smile toward hers was surprisingly gentle, concealing the conundrum of emotions closing ranks behind his poker face. ‘Shh. Say naught.’ The last gilded clasp on his wrist unbroken, Dudley said, ‘the bear does not like to be disturbed.’
Dudley followed Amy blindly, mere inches of space wedged between husband and wife as his chest cocooned the arch of her spine, his large hand shifting her river of hair from one shoulder to the other, allowing him access to Amy’s soft neck. Peering down the bridge of his nose at the swell of her belly, he took note of the loosened stays laced up her back to accommodate for her burgeoning midsection. He wondered what she might look like when her belly was puffed up in four month’s time, a king’s ransom worth of fabric draped from her swollen body. He bit back the urge to reach for it, keeping his hands at the ridge of her shoulders, softly kneading the tension coiled in the twists of her muscles. ‘Or yours.’ He murmured, adrift in reflection. Dropping his mouth to her throat, Leicester kissed her not; but left his lips pursed there, breathing deeply of her powdery scent. ‘Forgive me. The trip taunted me; I am no use for the sparring of words. Do you feel quite well, despite my intolerableness, wife? Have I displeased you, Amy? Tell me, and I shall spend my life begging your humble forgiveness.’ For what else but forgiveness could she ever grant to him?
the inhabitants of dover castle bemoaned the bad weather and the more irrational of the king's courtiers marked the dampened beginnings as an ill - omen for their conversations with the entreating spaniards ─ while she was inclined to voice her agreement to such peasant superstitions, what use did she have for the sun when robert dudley was near ? pinned into place by the weight of his gaze, so dark beneath the dampened strands of his hair, she was but a rabbit now ensnared in the trap that he had so expertly laid out, her throat bared for his teeth, her skin flushed with an onslaught of sudden warmth that coiled deliciously in her belly and around her heart at the sight of his smile and how it softened the shadowed contours of his features. the sight evoked a bashfulness in the countess, her pleasure at his return hidden as she tucked the expression ( and her chin ) against her neck, watching as his fingers made quick work of his chains and clasps before turning to her own feigned unfolding of their belongings if only to conceal how, even after nearly a decade of marriage, the faintest hint of teeth behind his lips was enough to widen her own smile to points of absurdity. surely it was not commonplace for a wife to feel such joy at inspiring gentleness, happiness and comfort in her husband as though they were newlyweds and the burdens of wifedom had not yet crushed the first blazes of love ─ what sorcery did he practice to hold her captive in his arms after all this time, after such hurt ?
discomfort faded into a dulled ache in his presence, as though her affection for him was too great to allow anything else to disrupt the peace between them, a soft laugh escaping her chest at his words. ❝ my bear. ❞ it lacked any sense of possessiveness and carried the weight of her adoration, her regard for him as husband, father and lord, the length of her torso melting against his front as she attempted, poorly, to fold one of his shirts away. like a puppet in the hands of a puppeteer, she moved in accordance to his slightest touch ─ her head tilted in the opposite direction of his to allow him space to rest his chin, her back arched forward at the gentle press of his thumbs to the center of her shoulders and she sighed through her nose, the sound a near - purr of a satisfied feline.
an indignant noise was hummed into the air, brows furrowing briefly at the words that followed. ❝ oh, my sweet husband ... beloved ... my poor, poor robert ... ❞ still, she teased through her concern, unable to stifle the delight at the opportunity that dover castle and their growing child had offered her to monopolize his time and his attention for her own. amy had not been told in so many words of the sacrifice that he had made following the revelation of her expectant state, but had come to a sensible conclusion after studying his foul moods and reading through the barrage of letters from his sister that had followed them from hampton to dover, conveying her confusion at the sudden change of heart in the princess. a part of her, however miniscule, felt ashamed for the sorry state that she had dragged both robert and kismet into with the news of her pregnancy ─ it would only grow larger by the day as they continued, threatening to consume her with a guilt that she had no reason to carry, but it was the size of a mustard seed now, wedged between her chest and her womb, easy to ignore with more pressing concerns at hand. ❝ fortunately for you, i am as easily pleased as i am displeased. now, it pleases me to merely look at you ! i would find myself content to spend the rest of my days gazing at my ridiculously fierce and handsome husband, no matter his faults. ❞ of which there were many, though she did not speak the words so much as imply them with her punctured silence, amusement at his expense tapering off as she turned to face him, taking in the exhausted lines of his face, first with her eyes and then following the path with her fingers, ghosting her touch across his cheeks before pressing a quick, sweet kiss to one.
❝ there is nothing to forgive, darling, or did you imagine me unfamiliar with your moods and how best to navigate them ? it was a frightful journey and already i am dreading the return back to court ... ❞ for more reasons than just the roads and the weather, though her soft gaze did not betray such thoughts. ❝ the maids prepared a hot bath before they left ... i had the intention to take a soak to soothe my poor legs but i find myself persuaded to relinquish the tub to you first, husband. as forgiving as i am, i fear you smell too much like horse for my delicate belly. ❞
@robsartd
locations: an afternoon garden delight
The greenery became the scene of clamorous voices, arraying of persons curiously elaborate. Courtiers descended in great gowns and silks; they took pleasure in indulging that forenoon a luxury of slovenliness - the Spanish serving as aldermen in this endeavour. In beholding this diaphanous mass, she felt herself to be a mere shadow in a field of white - in this same gown of shadow, Anne felt at ease. She took pleasure in betaking herself to the enemy - an advantage she should not have enjoyed being anything less brilliant or striking. Groups of ladies and gentlemen stood and walked amongst the flowers; the long line of courtiers presented a throning, murmuring multitude - but it was one one fine head, which bade Anne to cease her removed demonstrations. Amy did not know Anne well; but Anne knew her, and honoured her nature, with all its plain sincerity, its warm affection and enthusiasm. There was behind Anne a throng, the Spanish a hundred ranks deep - there were many to meet her eyes and divide their scrutiny - she concentrated all on Amy, oppressing, perhaps, with the whole force of her full, dark eyes. One glance did not satisfy her - she studied Amy leisurely. Anne contrived to approach; all that was grand or good in her kept her quite tame, as she sought to receive Dudley's bride. Forbearing as she was won to be, proximity for Amy was no dangerous place - she took the others arm, and entreated her in low tones.
"My lady, I am gladdened to see your face, amongst a bevy of those who would find delight, in mine being split beneath a blade. Shall we walk and find solace in each others company? You may inform me of all I have missed in your affairs - and those of your gallant husband." She esteemed Robert a pungent and austere little man; he seemed a harsh apparition, with his thin cheeks and long, quivering nostrils. He apostrophised with vehemence - Amy in turn, had an art of pleasing. "Let us enjoy the last of autumn's bloom, before winter's ruinous affects take hold; though I was born beneath scorpio skies, I find the skies to be bland and balmy. . Perhaps we may persuade the King to liven the winter months with a masquerade? My hopes of a winter wedding have long been forgotten."
there was no small honor in being approached by the dowager queen of england when she was surrounded and followed by others of higher ranking and purpose than the undecorated countess of leicester whose only accomplishments were marrying well and maintaining the favor of the esteemed woman that approached with steady steps and a weighted gaze. undoubtedly, she believed that there must have been tens upon hundreds of sonnets written on the depths of anne boleyn's gaze alone for her mistress' dark eyes pinned her into place amongst the flowers, stripping her bare of any pretense, so piercing that amy could not help but worry that the secrets that she kept would be unveiled with just an uttered command. what hold did the vows of loyalty to her husband have over her heart when it came against the unexpected kindness, the ready acceptance that she had received from the queen ? if there was a way to assure that amy and the children would not suffer for his indiscretion, her mistress would be the first to learn of the sorrow that weighed on her heart like an anchor on the seabed and the shame that would go onto staining her name long after she had departed from this world. readily, she went, the softness of her figure melting into place beside anne with a delight that illuminated her features and imbued a rosy glow to her waned cheeks.
❝ your grace ... i am honored by your attention in the midst of far more interesting guests and i shall willingly serve as your defense against all that would dare cast an unkind gaze upon your distinguished beauty. ❞ while some might speak honeyed words with the intention to endear themselves to the queen, amy spoke from the heart, admiration glistening in her attentive gaze even as a knowing smile betrayed her concealed amusement at the attempt to shed interest upon robert when she had deduced that anne held him at a very low opinion indeed. ❝ if it pleases your grace, i am certain that the king, in his devoted adoration of his mother, would not dare repudiate the request, especially since we cannot conspire to plan a winter wedding. a masquerade would be ingenious, especially if it were themed ! ❞ excitement bubbled in the throat as the fingers of her freed hand danced atop the colored petals, blooming through the first frosts of winter ─ demure, her eyes studied anne through the curtain of her fair lashes, the pink of her tongue poking out to wet her lips in an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty. ❝ though my involvement in such celebrations may be hindered by ... growing matters between myself and the earl. ❞ a disappointed hum followed the words, cleverness faltering in the presence of her mistress.
❝ might i trouble you with my worries, my lady ? i find myself all at sea with the recent developments with my robert and i do not know who else to turn to for advice. ❞
the robsart family tree ─ c. 1460s to 1560s.
arthur robsart is the illegitimate son of sir john robsart and half brother to amy robsart, countess of leicester.
robert gamage, son of amy robsart and sir christopher gamage of wales, will inherit syderstone hall at the age of sixteen, after the death of his mother in 1565. robert gamage will go onto marry elizabeth kett, niece of the rebel robert kett, in 1572 and they will have two children.
anne gamage, daughter of amy robsart and sir christopher gamage of wales, will marry gideon de vere, son of the earl of oxford, in 1568 after a two year courtship. the marriage was arranged between the countess of leicester and the earl of oxford prior to her passing in 1565.
arthur dudley, 2nd earl of leicester, will be born in 1560. he will quickly be followed by a sister, jane dudley, born in 1561.
𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 . . . robert dudley ( @leiccsters ) 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 . . . dover .
the road from london to dover had been made even more difficult by the weather, evening downpours softening the ground beneath their feet in the morning until not even the relentless pace maintained by the front of the entourage could compel the stragglers to move any quicker in pursuit ─ by the time they had reached the encampments around dover castle, the countess of leicester had to be helped out of the litter, fingers pressed against her mouth as a maid guided her from the courtyard to the prepared rooms close to where her mistress was positioned. she would have preferred to make the journey on horseback as the fresh air would have helped to soothe her unsettled belly but amy would not risk the health of the babe with such a harsh pace and an unfamiliar mount, confining herself to the swaying litter even if it had made her feel wretched beyond belief. the only other person who seemed to be as miserable as she felt was, coincidentally, the earl of leicester, whose ill - temper had seen their shared rooms emptied of servants that morning which suited her well as she unpacked their belongings slowly, laying out one of his doublets on the bed so that she could find a gown that closely mirrored the colors of his velvet.
holding a sleeve up to the window, her head turned instinctively towards the sound of his approaching footsteps, lumbering with a heaviness that foretold his prickly exteriors ─ the thought brought a secretive smile to her face as she pressed the rich fabric of his doublet to her lips, turning on her heel to greet him as he entered the room. ❝ you are still in a mood. ❞ a fair brow raised in teasing mockery even as her stomach sank. amy could play the fool quite well but even a fool could not ignore the obvious reasoning behind his change in temperament, his impatience with everyone but a select few. the pleasure of possessing his undivided attention was still fresh but how long could she feign blindness to his unhappiness ? as she held one hand out to beckon him closer, the countess of leicester decided that she deserved to be selfish for a moment longer though she would also attempt to appease and distract him when possible, if only to spare the servants from rotating duties to avoid their corner of the castle. ❝ i have sent the servants away so i fear you will have to terrorize me instead. come here, my bear, and change out of that. i've found a gown that better suits this doublet to let me lay claim on my husband through his clothing, if nothing else. ❞ the babe was still a poorly kept secret, at least until she could tell her mistress anne and receive her blessings and permission to retire to kenilworth once the period of laying in arrived, but already amy had to take out a few inches from her waist to make space for the swell of her belly, the ribbons of her bodice loosened even now to allow her more room to breathe freely.
❝ you are not cross with me, are you ? you cannot be, not after your child has left me feeling bereft of strength. if anything, i should exile you from my bed after this ... already he has inherited your ornery demeanor. ❞ turning back to the bed, she pulled the curled length of her fiery mane to one side, exposing the pale stretch of neck and shoulder with the impishness of a wife, demanding for her husband to slide around the softness of her body kept solely for his delight.
Lucrezia Ardinghelli is very beautiful.
A sheepish smile was not easily hidden; how strange to be complimented for enduring the viewing of such gruesome death as they had, but those were the times they lived in. It did please Meg that though her courage had been tested, another lady could acknowledge her resolve. She had learned from a young age that weakness was something to be spotted in others and used to one's advantage, not shown as one's own vices...yet there were lessons more easily taught than practiced. Meg's childhood could have easily been more akin to Amy's than the princess' and though Meg was grateful for the opportunities she had been given, she could not help but wonder if the former's might have been easier.
Despite the easy look on Amy's face, she did not seem altogether quiet comfortable. Of course, neither was Meg, but Lady Dudley seemed to unconsciously clutch at her midsection as if trying to hold inside any bit of the morning meal she had managed to enjoy. The open air from the window had since calmed Meg's churning stomach, and she hoped it would do the same for her companion. Meg's glance turned softer at the tension she felt in the woman beside her; whether it was her own presence or Amy's general discomfort she did not know, and she would not wish either upon her...though for her own sake and the sake of her conscience, Meg hoped that in the present moment, she was not causing the other woman any harm. For in their positions, what could either of them be expected to do?
She was relieved to find that the mention of her children softened Amy a bit, as she was sure it did for any mother. "I cannot say I blame her," Meg admitted with a light laugh, happy to be thinking on more pleasant things. "Though my mother was French I have never had the pleasure of traveling there myself...perhaps we shall adapt some of their fashions as our own. I must admit, every French woman I have seen has been dressed in the most glorious fabrics." If the English were to borrow from any other country, it might as well be France. It certainly was not going to be Spain. "It is a wonderful opportunity for us all to have foreigners visit. Surely such knowledge and alliances can only make England stronger."
there was something innately irreproachable about the lady welles that inspired a sense of commiseration between two women in a court that would pick them apart like vultures upon carrion should one foot be found out of place ─ though they had come from vastly different backgrounds, both seemed to be aware of where they stood and the silent stretch of unspoken secrets that they had to maintain for their own reasons. while the countess of leicester did not stand for being made to seem like a fool that inspired pity from others, she was appreciative that the younger woman did not poke at the slumbering beast between them and instead diverted the conversation to much safer waters, undoubtedly learning the skills of navigating an unpleasant conversation from her years at court. it was something that amy still needed to perfect, no matter how enjoyable her simplicity was to some, for though she knew what needed to be said and done and gave advice on how best to ride through courtly conversations, she did not always take her own word to heart, prone to wearing her emotions on her face even as she bit down on her tongue.
unaware that her discomfort was evident on her features, she rubbed absentmindedly at the barely noticeable swell of her stomach, forcing her breathing to mellow out so that the crisp air could chase aware the worst of her mother's stomach before she upended what little food she had ingested prior to the executions. the thought of the bodies and the heads rolling sent another wave of nausea through her frame, however, and she swallowed audibly, casting her gaze away from the window to glance at the other woman as she spoke. ❝ neither have i ... though i was hoping to monopolize the time of some of the french seamstresses that catherine de medici has brought with her. ❞ everyone had a price, no matter their loyalty to their country, and the dudley family was hardly known for ruffling any feathers overseas though she was well aware of her husband's disdain for their foreign guests ─ perhaps an artfully crafted dress might dissuade his opinions of the french. ❝ it truly is a privilege, is it not ? i was glad to be able to bring the children so that they might be involved in such a historical moment. they will, one day, inherit our titles and responsibilities so it is good for them to learn now who england's allies are. ❞
raising a fair brow at meg, her smile turned teasing. ❝ though perhaps we needn't only look to alliances for england. have none of the gentlemen caught your eye, lady welles ? i am quite lonely with only my children for company so it has become my mission to convince the ladies of court of the benefits of marriage, chief among that being motherhood. ❞
closed starter for @robsartd !
fiery crimson, sun kissed ringlets caught penelope's attention from the corner of her eye, head swiveling to smile warmly at the sight of amy with her children, the other woman calling after her son with a tone in her voice that made penelope chuckle softly. cecily turned her face up to look at her mother, large brown eyes pleading for her to allow the little girl to go chasing after her companions. " go on, little one. do not soil your dress, or i shall contemplate sending you to the country to live with your grandmother." it is a meaningless threat, cushioned by the tender way that penelope brushed her daughter's hair from her face before sending her off to follow gaily after amy's pair. penelope approached amy at a slower pace, tilting her head downward to grin softly at the far shorter woman, motioning with her hand towards where their children played together. " it feels as if though anne has grown quite taller since the last time we spoke, it is truly a wonder that she may rise so quickly in merely a few days. do you not fret that she may one day sprout endlessly till she towers over you, amy?" with a laugh, penelope intertwined their arms, hand resting on her forearm, an intimate embrace that spoke of coy friendship and warm sentiments. " your robin strikes a fearsome vision of lord dudley, he has stolen any hope of him sharing your features - an unfortunate, but foreseen consequence of such a man as he."
as much as she wished for the children to take to their books and to their tutors like ducks took to water, both robin and anne emulated her vivaciousness in youth in their own ways and when the two children stopped arguing long enough to conspire against their poor mother, she was helpless to their manipulations and childlike logic ─ it was why they were exploring the gardens, anne running ahead with the sun in her hair while robin attempted maturity by explaining the odd flower or two that they came across in their walk, his hand tugging her forward with an impatience that she found amusing. ( it was sweet how he refused to leave her side even if he longed to chase after her sister and, as another child joined anne in her games, amy gave her son a little nudge towards cecily, silently assuring her young knight that she would be safe in the company of mistress walsingham. ) ❝ i have had to unpick and fix the hems of her dresses thrice since we've journeyed to hampton. it seems as though both my children have inherited their father's height but not much else. ❞ her longsuffering tone was emphasized by a girlish shriek, undoubtedly from the little hellion that had inherited her hair along with her worst qualities as a child. ❝ you jest but if she does grow taller, i may have to leave the disciplining to robert and we both know he is soft for her. ❞ punctured with a gentle roll of the eye, she leaned slightly against penelope's side in an unspoken greeting between friends, gaze wandering until she caught sight of where their young had paused, both girls captivated by robin's lecture on a flower and the worm that sat upon it.
❝ ah, pen ... it is something that i mourn daily. ❞ her voice lightened with a tease, laughter bubbling in the throat. ❝ between anne growing like a weed and robin insisting on having similar clothing to his father, i fear i will be outmatched soon ... a house full of towering, lumbering dudleys. god forbid they adopt his table manners at breakfast. ❞ her shoulders trembled with poorly restrained amusement, head lifted up so that the two women might conspire and gossip on their husbands ─ all in good faith, of course. ❝ cecily looks more and more like you by the day, i cannot help but feel envious, dear friend. what would you suggest i do since anne and robin are lost to the dudley influence ? ❞
Alphonse Eugène Félix Lecadre (French, 1842-1875)
The Sleep, 1872
the loss of mary still weighed heavily on julien's soul, it mattered little that years had passed when he was haunted by her features often in their two children - in the way that katherine cried at night for her, or how gideon grew each day into his mother's sharp cheekbones. at times, he was envious of others who moved on so gracefully, who allowed themselves to find love in the comfort of another when julian struggled to not find guilt in entertaining other women now that she was passed. perhaps, that is why julian continued to entertain the friendship that had been fostered with amy dudley before mary had left, in hopes that he may steal some of the strength she possessed to marry robert , or to keep close one of the few that recalled his once love so vividly. another voice to pass stories with on the nights when her light seemed to grow dim.
though at times, julian could not help but selfishly wonder if he adored amy still for the comfort that she graced him with, the soft touches and knowing looks - for the way that katherine sat perfectly on her hip, as if in another life they may have shared a hearth and home together. bound by loves long past, and love that was forged anew.
yet, amy dudley was not his wife nor would she ever be, julian reminded himself sharply as he gazed upon the sight of her dozing comfortably with his daughter. with a faint smile, julian moved forward to help amy lift herself from her seat, the hand not grasping hers was placed on katherine's dark curls, keeping her steady till amy was righted again. " yes, i fear if i spend another meal with cecil and walsingham that i may pluck a knife from the table and place it within my own ear," he jested, voice low and quiet as to not wake the sleeping child. it was a playful lie, julian reveled in the attention that the older men offered him for he had never been blessed to have older brothers, and at times they felt dangerously close to what he had dreamt of for it.
julian's hand remained in hers for a breath longer than appropriate before he pulled back, a step away from her so that he may drift towards something - anything - that was safer than the siren pull of another man's wife. her voice rang out with the same moniker that mary had once used on him, her tongue teasing him with it often in the company of others, till he was grinning and begging her for a kiss. it makes his entire body ache to hear it once more, another hint of a smile on his lips. " i would be honored to join you, i am certain that gideon will be beside himself with stories already." at her question, julian swallowed deeply, staring at her in a silence. " will robert be joining us?" he finally asked, a cruel weapon but the one best suited to remind them both of the duty that bound them to a certain level of familiarity.
his touch was warm and weighed with a reassurance that he would not allow her to stumble nor would he release her grasp too early, the strength in his forearm pulling him up from where she had been nestled against the pillows by the fireplace, cheeks reddened from the heat and nothing else. ( nothing else, her conscience warned though the countess of leicester could feel her heartbeat in her throat, beating against the slender column of her neck like a hummingbird demanding freedom. ) his other hand rested against the curly - headed child in her arms ─ katherine snuffled and blinked back sleepiness, long lashes brushing against her cheeks as the movement, however slow, enticed her away from the call of hypnos and back to the present. absentmindedly, amy bustled a kiss against her forehead to soothe the child awake even as her gaze remained affixed on the man that stood opposite her. the countess had never been one to fixate on religion outside of the usual observances but even she knew that there was a place in hell for women who coveted the widows of their deceased friends, doubly so if the said woman was married as well. still, she was a glutton for affection wherever she could receive it, delighting in the intensity of his eyes upon her freckled features as he spoke in a low tone that warmed her as keenly as the hearth had. it made her feel desirable and she saw nothing wrong with enjoying his company for it ─ after all, did she not also deserve to feel cherished unconditionally ?
❝ i cannot promise you that the feeling will not return after a meal with our combined young ... between your gideon and my anne, our ears will be deafened by the end of the day. ❞ amy would take the endless chatter of her children over conversation with anyone else in court, however, appreciative of the simple fascinations of her young that allowed her to wield her knowledge to enlighten them rather than to nod at the right pauses as she was wont to do in the company of more finely educated persons. as he retreated to a safe distance, her body swayed forward as though pulled by an invisible force that compelled her to follow him but her feet remained rooted in the spot, a shiver running down her spine as the ghost of a smile played on his mouth. against her shoulder, katherine grumbled out a sentence and she shifted the child slightly so that her face was turned towards her father when she first peeked one eye open. ❝ i will tell the servants to prepare another plate for you. look, kitty ... your father is here. ❞
bouncing the child awake, amy waited until she began to wiggle in her arms before she set katherine down, watching with an idle smile as she ran to julian with the evidence of a good sleep on her cheek ─ this allowed her face to fracture into uncertainty at the mention of her husband with the hopes that the distracting child would hide her change in expression from julian. he was cruel to remind her of robert, of her marriage and the secrets that she kept to keep the family together, guilt churning at her belly. some might argue that robert did not deserve her goodness, her loyalty, but undeserving or not, he was the sole recipient of her devotion ─ would that she could dig out her foolish heart and give it to another if only so she could feel less like a pawn and more like a player. ❝ i cannot say ... he has many duties to attend to for the king and the princess, i can only hope that he remembers to eat in between that. and ... your avoidance of the question has been noted. ❞ even if she was the fool, she could play a man like julian de vere, leading him back to the conversation and steering it away from her husband's whereabouts.
❝ are you well ? the session, did it ... you cannot tell me, of course, but will a decision be made soon ? ❞
‘ i would never kiss anyone who doesn’t burn me like the sun . ’ / kismet
pale lashes dusted the freckled tops of her cheeks as the countess of leicester blinked in rapid succession ( once, twice, thrice ) to keep amusement at bay even as her good sister played the act of an affronted maiden, hand pressed against her collarbone for good measure. the question had been an innocuous one, borne out of gentle teasing for kismet had not yet quenched the dark curiosity in her gaze from that evening when amy had been pulled from the comforting arms of hypnos to answer her questions and to bear witness to her confessions of interest in the lord privy seal ─ it had taken great reserve not to leap out of bed and pursue the gentleman with a vengeance so that she might demand to know of his intentions with her impressionable young sister but amy knew that if she had overreacted, kismet would simply keep such desires to herself until the damage to her reputation was done. no, it was better that she kept calm for now though the passionate declaration evoked by her teasing was rather concerning, marring her humor with hints of nostalgia.
had she ever described robin thus ? perhaps once, when he was still far from her grasp and the mere thought of his eyes upon her was enough to send a heat through her limbs, her body naturally turning to wherever he was. now, the only burning was the flood of embarrassment that would come after he would depart from their sacred bubble of domesticity, reminding her sharply of her choices to remain by his side as the humiliated wife.
❝ for my sanity, sister, try not to kiss him just yet. ❞ she would have to find james cecil before that, the old lecher, and twist some good sense into his ear. ❝ if you imagine that he burns like the sun, i fear the both of you might come to light too quickly, too passionately to see sense. ❞
Favorite Outfits → The Living and the Dead [10/?]
With a slight nod, Meg moved aside a bit to allow the Countess of Leicester equal access to the outside world. It did not bring Meg pleasure to see the other woman unsettled, of course, but Amy's admission did provide her a bit of comfort. A lady's sensitivity was not to be mocked and was rather expected in gruesome situations, but Meg did not wish to draw too much attention to her discomfort lest someone form incorrect conclusions regarding her judgement of the day's events. "I'm afraid it was," she confirmed quietly, her gaze directed out over the gardens before them. "Measures must be taken to ensure the safety of His Majesty and our country, of course. I only wish there was no need for them all at." It was easier, she supposed, to blame the misdeeds of the condemned for such circumstances rather than those who ordered the actions. Had she not just expressed her believe in the king's judgement to the man himself?
Now, standing next to Amy Dudley, Meg's mind turned toward other matters. Meg never quite knew how to behave around Amy, the neglected wife of her dear friend's lover. Guilt rushed through her body at the sight of Lady Leicester, the knowledge of the affair and her own hand in keeping it alive eating at her in the presence of the wronged party. Still, her unwavering support of Elizabeth would not allow her to address such things, lest she wished her own head separated from her body.
"For the king's sake and our own, I do hope there are brighter days ahead," she continued instead, turning back towards the other woman with a soft gaze, turning her mind to more pleasant thoughts. "Your children, are they well?" Meg asked, a genuine smile gracing her lips at the thought of Amy's offspring. She did envy Amy that, the comfort of the family she had created. "It is so wonderful to see them about."
navigating so many individuals, most of whom were intricately tied to each other by blood or by marriage, was not unlike learning the steps to an especially complicated country dance and fortunately for the countess of leicester, her ambitious mother had insisted on lessons every wednesday before her chores, already envisioning a life for her daughter that took her away from the quaint countryside and their large stretch of farmland. yet, in comparison to some others, marguerite welles was without complications insofar as relatives were concerned though her loyalty to the princess elizabeth often placed them at odds with each other, especially if amy was seeking out her absent husband and the other woman was complicit in the concealment of his whereabouts. thankfully, she had yet to be subjected to such levels of humiliation though she was certain that with all of them gathered beneath one roof, it would only be a matter of time before she would receive a boldfaced lie and be forced to make the walk back to the dudley apartments in shame ─ she had been preparing her heart for that very moment for years though the mere thought of such blatant, collaborating disrespect was enough to make her sick. a hand pressed urgently against her belly, patting the stiffened stomacher as though to soothe a distressed creature as she glided forward to take a space beside the younger woman, keeping her gaze on lady welles rather than the appealing horizon.
❝ you are doing admiringly well for your first time, my lady. ❞ there was no need for her to be unnecessarily kind to the other but it was not in her nature to be wicked to those who did her no harm ─ she would not blame a child for the sins of a father and she would not blame the girl for the sins of her mistress. ❝ death is unpleasant, no matter how deserving or undeserving a person may be, and that was certainly ... the most distressing of executions i had seen. ❞ it was in the nature of kings to be threatened by traitors at all corners though amy was surprised that it had taken so long for one to be unearthed, and she could not help but worry if this was an omen of more plots arising against the king. ❝ god willing, all those who wish ill upon his majesty have been uncovered in this plot. this will not taint the true purpose of our gathering. ❞
she could not bear the thought of england plunging into uncertainty or worst, war ─ not with a babe growing in her belly and a husband to reclaim as her own. she had yet to tell him but she would, soon, and then she would make her demands of him, damn his happiness and his elizabeth. the hand that was on her stomacher formed into a fist, nails biting into the fleshiness of her palms for a brief moment before she relaxed, smoothing out the furrow in her brow at the mention of her children. ❝ they are, thank you for inquiring on them ... my son is as obliging as he always is but i fear my daughter may find it in her to sneak into the french entourage one day, she is so enthralled by their accents and their fashions. ❞
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 : open starter 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : chapel within hampton court 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐏 : september 1559
lady margery holland was not the most pious of women unlike most ladies at hampton court. she prayed when she could or when felt like it, attended mass when needed, but mainly they were all for appearances. as blasphemous as it sounded, margery was no longer sure that God was true or if, by any chance there was a high being, he cared little of her seeing all the difficulties he threw her way; obviously, she wasn't favored. nobody need know of her unbelief, too tired to cause a scandal at court as if her name was not dragged in the mud already. margery knew that the only reason nobody has done anything to her was that she was the dowager queen's lady. but were she not? what would her fate be like? she could only wonder.
blue hues remained glued to the gilded altar adorned with saints and a crucifix hanging above. quiet enveloped her that margery had forgotten where she was. in truth, she was here for the quiet, something one does not get very often outside the four walls of the chapel, especially for someone like margery. she shut her eyes, hoping to escape reality even just for a moment. "are you here for the solitude or do you seek sanctuary?" margery quietly hummed, sensing someone approach, slowly peeling her eyes back open. "you may speak freely, i certainly would not judge you if you seek one or both."
divinity had always been a distant aspiration for most of her childhood and early adulthood. by the age of six, amy had learned to cease her fidgeting during service so that she could concentrate all of her energy into the small list of intentions that her father had made her recite every day with her morning prayers ─ first, she gave thanks to god for allowing her to see another morning and then she would pray for the health of her parents and her elder brothers ( both the bastard and the heir at her father's insistence ), for a bountiful crop at harvest time and for continued peace throughout the countryside. when she had married sir christopher, the list had expanded to include his success in the welsh marches and the healths of their two children but as her position in life elevated from gentlewoman to noblewoman, so did the reach of her prayers grow. as she genuflected before the altar, however, there was only one thought in her mind ─ that the babe within her would finally settle and that her mother's belly would cease troubling her in the mornings. such an uncomplicated prayer called back to the days when her greatest concern was what to serve on the table for their evening meal, though the circumstances and secrets surrounding the unborn child were far from simple.
yet amy was not without her comforts or her support even in the chapel, demure figure dropping into the seat beside lady holland with a soft glide of her skirts. ❝ marg. ❞ the older woman had become something of an unexpected help from the moment she had entered into the service of the dowager queen and continued to be a valuable friend during her difficult mornings, taking on the duties when amy was otherwise stuck with her head over a basin. ❝ do you think there could ever be sanctuary for me here ? no ... no, it would be easier for me to find solitude though it needn't be spent alone if you are not opposed to my company. ❞ an arm extended so that she might intertwine their fingers together upon her lap, a small smile warming her otherwise exhausted features. ❝ thank you for covering for my absence this morning. i fear our mistress has grown most cross with me ... perhaps i should tell her of my affliction ? ❞