Anne Boleyn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
happyfalcon) wrote2014-09-16 08:45 pm
happyfalcon) wrote2014-09-16 08:45 pm
[For Thomas] Changing Seasons
There was no doubt, it had been hard. In the weeks that followed, Anne only got a few fleeting looks at Thomas Wyatt. Every once in a while they were able to steal fleeting kisses of the briefest touch of fingers at banquets. The letters they wrote were far more significant. Poetic verses, promises, sweet words - both were exchanged in equal passion.
But recently, Anne's happiness had taken a drastic drop. Henry had been pressuring her lately, wanting to make his relationship with Anne more public. She had refused, coyly at first, then logically. Her argument had been that, while he was married, it wouldn't do to have them both seen in public together. Henry had agreed at first without question. Recently though, he had started to grow annoyed. This would have been fine, except that Thomas Boleyn was beginning to feel the pressure as well, and was pressuring Anne to accept the king's public advances.
What else could she do? As the days grew darker, Anne turned to the only person she could trust without question: Thomas.
Anne wrote a letter, quickly and carefully when she finally had a free moment:
Dearest Poet:
Would that I could write of my fondness for you now; to tell you, as I often have these past days, that it is you that I love more than any. Alas, today I write to you with the gravest matter - The Lion seeks to show off his prize to the jackals that surround him. To show that the falcon is his, and belongs to no other.
What shall the falcon do, dear heart? You know well of the others that surround it, and the dangers the falcon faces should it refuse The Lion - though it wants nothing more than to do so.
I hope, dearest love, that you and your most brilliant mind are able to manifest some solution.
Until then, Poet, as always you have my heart, and my happiness lies with you alone.
Sincerest love,
~Brunet
Hopefully, Thomas's crafty mind would identify the new characters she developed to avoid dropping names. The Falcon, herself; The Lion, the king. What could she do? What should she do?
Slipping out of her chamber, folded letter in hand, Anne stepped down to their designated spot. No guards, no prying eyes in sight. Still, Anne kept the letter in her sleeve until she reached the left urn. Pretending to drop a bracelet, Anne dipped down to retrieve it, slipping the letter into the urn swiftly in the time it took to grab the bracelet and stand up. She continued on without a word.
Hopefully, Thomas could reply to her soon.
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There were days that the urn was empty and there were days that his own letter was still right where he had left it, waiting for Anne to have the opportunity to come and find it. It was unavoidable but all the same disheartening. Wyatt knew it was the same for her and he so wished she would not worry if there was no sign of him for a few days.
The short piece of a woven cord that Wyatt had rescued from the scribes' office weeks ago had been acting as his "ribbon on the door", though each night he had to resign to the fact that Anne did not come. He didn't blame her. She would come if she could, surely.
During the days it was his mind that missed her, during the lonely nights it was his body. Unless he decided to drink himself to sleep, there was no escape from the ache.
Taking in a deep breath, to brace himself for a possible disappointment, Wyatt approached the old fountain. He opened his palm and looked at the ring in his little finger. So far nobody had asked about it. He ran his thumb over it.
Making sure no one else was nearby, he slowed down and as quickly as possible, reached down inside the urn- a letter! Wyatt snatched it and kept walking, making a bit of a loop around this part of the garden.
He found a secluded spot under a tree and read the note, sadness filling his heart. How in the world could he help her?
It was only later in the afternoon that he was able to write in turn.
Dearest Brunet
I must write hastily for I am to meet my father who has come to town. I pray and hope our good Lord would show how to ease the falcon's blight. It pains to know someone most dearest to our hearts in such a situation.
Dare I suggest the falcon makes an offering to honor the Lion in the form of entertainment during the festival season that is soon upon us? Planning and rehearshing with others ought to cut the time the Lion demands for himself lest they want the surprise spoiled.
I fear this is only a temporary solution but as of now I do not know how else to help.
I so long to hold you again, Brunet. My life is not complete without you. I hope to catch the sight of you for even the briefest of moments.
Your Poet.
Wyatt read the letter through and frowned. He was disappointed that he could not offer anything more tangible and permanent.
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So when she found the letter that afternoon it was all she could do to find a private spot between two flower bushes and read his response. Of course Anne would have wanted something better, but she couldn't blame Thomas, both their hands were tied in this situation. This was as good a suggestion as any.
In the back of her mind, Anne wished he had been a bit more expressive of his love for her, as she had in her note. But as he said, the letter had been written hastily. She just needed something to hold onto - but she did still have the last poem he wrote her. That had been integral in providing her comfort in times such as this.
Once she gathered herself, Anne returned to her chamber and composed her response.
Dearest Poet,
It is my prayer that our Lord in Heaven do more than simply show us a solution. Fear grips me as of late that it is only His divine intervention that may solve the problem altogether. In such a case, we have only faith.
Forgive your Brunet Lady her foolishness, for her mind is not its sharpest as of late, but do you mean a play of some sort or other? Such things are indeed typical of such seasons.
Temporary solution or not, it may pacify the Lion until such a time as a more desired solution makes itself known.
Dearest love, even Virgil himself could not form the words to express the depth of longing I have for you. Paradise would it be, to have your arms around me, if only for a moment - to hear your voice in the dark.
I shall come to you again, as soon as I am able. I shall always come back to you.
Your Brunet.
Anne had paused frequently as she composed her response. Recalling the last time they'd been together, images and sounds flashing in her mind - giving her comfort and tormenting her at the same time.
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He still didn't have much in the way of proper solutions, a thing which gave him scruples, but at least a piece of happy news could be shared now. Cromwell had finally granted him a moment of his precious time and Wyatt had humbly expressed his hope to find help in getting a divorce. It was only the very beginning but it was better than nothing.
Dearest Brunet
Please accept my deepest apology for the brevity of my previous letter. I have been pulled in all directions as of late though not all unpleasant. It should please you to know I have been conversing briefly with C regarding the great matter that both you, My Love, and I shall benefit from should it come to reality. I cannot lie and say they happily heard my case but so far they did not refuse support completely.
I have not mentioned the matter to my good father yet for I know they are against it. This I know from earlier times. Success for me will not win father's approval. We must keep faith that he will come to see how much more joy it brings me to be united with my Brunet. That will be worth any temporary discomfort now.
Indeed, the Falcon and others near her are encouraged to put up a play, musical entertainment or dancing for everyone's enjoyment for the Christmas season. Better yet if such gaiety is dedicated to the Lioness. This will give the Falcon a way to show they are a loyal subject and not one to step outside morality.
Similar entertainment is also being planned by others, by the hounds of the castle, and to my knowledge the Lion will be asked to take part as well. All of this should bring some relief and lessen the time the Falcon must face the hunter.
My personal advice is for the Falcon to try to seek sanctuary in their own nest in the countryside as soon as the celebrations are over. Mayhaps more favourable guests shall find their way to pay a visit.
I seal this letter with kisses to my beautiful Brunet.
Her most faithful and loving Poet.
It was quite a blancing act to choose the words so that some secrecy remained while not making his letters so vague and strange that Anne wouldn't understand them. She had used the word 'jackals', Wyatt used the word 'hounds' to describe the average, well-meaning courtiers who always did what they were asked and ran around the palace to do the King's bidding. Naturally he included himself in that group, just like he included his friends.
He folded the letter, ready to go, but could not move from his desk. Something was missing from the letter. Something was missing from his life if he could not talk and touch her.
With tiny, unpolished letters Wyatt wrote at the very bottom of the paper:
May I please see you? I shall wait near the bell tower of the cathedral after Mass. Come Saturday or Sunday.
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She then went about her business, performing tasks around the castle before she was able to retrieve Thomas's letter. It brought a smile to her face and a light swelling in her heart to read it. For Cromwell to not refuse to support him in his divorce outright was a good sign. But it was the words at the bottom of the page that brought her the most happiness.
He wanted to see her. And she desperately wanted to see him. He was expecting her Saturday or Sunday after Mass - naturally she would try to be there as soon as she was able.
Taking his words to heart, Anne made the suggestion more fervently for the ladies to put on a play for the holidays in the name of the Queen. This was more whole-heartedly supported when Margaret, The King's sister, expressed interest in the idea. So when the King sent for Anne, she was able to politely refuse, for she had a play to help plan. It was still early before the holiday, but as it was for the Queen, it would have to be perfect.
The King didn't seem terribly angry, though Anne kept herself in his good graces by meeting him for a brief lunch to discuss holiday plans, in which Henry revealed exactly what Thomas had said, that he was to be part of some of the festivities planned for the Christmas season. Anne smiled, pretended to be pleased, impressed.
It was only a day or two before Saturday finally came. Anne went about her business again, having a little more free time than usual. She spent much of her time in the falconry, avoiding Henry's messenger should he come prowling.
Until finally the time for Mass came, which was torment to wait through. But she spent the time praying for a divorce for Thomas, and escape from the King - even for him to be reunited with his wife, somehow.
When Mass dismissed, Anne slipped away from the other ladies, unnoticed, thank the Lord. She waited for everyone to leave, and still waited a few minutes more before she made her way to the cathedral bell tower. Anne's heart pounded in her chest, anxious to see him, desperate for his touch, no matter how fleeting.
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Wyatt made sure his friends were all taking part and that both Tallis and Mark Smeaton were willing to come to the ladies' aid should they need more musicians for their plays. As for what he wanted to do himself wasn't fully formed in his mind yet. A new poem was always expected but he was so consumed by his desire to be with Anne that anything he tried to write seemed to scream her name. He simply couldn't present anything that obvious.
There were no new messages from Anne but since his own note had disappeared from the urn, Wyatt felt secure enough that she would do her best to meet him on Sunday the latest, if not on Saturday.
He had spend the morning pouring over boring bookkeeping documents that his father, being the Treasurer of the Chamber, wanted him to get acquainted with. Minding the time Wyatt then made some poorly-formed excuse of why he had to leave suddenly to do something else, something of equal importance, he claimed. More than equal in his opinion.
Winter was approaching surely and steadily. The air was cool even in mid-day though the morning frost was gone. He liked this weather. He felt alive and hopeful.
He arrived well in advance and while waiting, kept himself occupied by imagining hundred different ways of kissing Anne as soon as he'd had her in his arms again.
"Patience, though I have not
The thing that I require:
I must of force, god wot,
Forbear my most desire."
He recited that verse a few times, aloud but quietly as he drew circles on the bell tower's stony frame.
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"Gone so mad from not seeing me in so long that you've taken to talking to yourself, have you Sir Thomas?" Anne grinned as she teased him.
But she didn't stay apart from him for much longer than that. In a flash she was before him, arms thrown around his neck as she leaned up to kiss him hard and deep. To Anne's mind, she had weeks to make up for. She didn't care if someone were lurking about - though she'd seen no one. Let someone see.
Though after a moment she realized that this might cause more trouble for him than necessary, so Anne leaned back a little, face flushed from embarrassment as well as the cold air.
"Forgive me, I...I just missed you so..." Anne whispered.
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And... hmm, that was one of the ways to kiss her. He was all too ready to offer his mouth to her. And lean back a little was probably all Anne could do afterwards, considering Wyatt had his hands tightly around her the moment she flew herself against him.
He had missed her, too, but there was no time to say it. Tipping his head down, Wyatt captured her lips with his again. She tasted like crisp autumn days and sacred prayers.
"Patience, I had not." His hand came up to hold her head, to press is gently to his shoulder. "You feel so good." He closed his eyes and rocked their bodies together, his long cape surrounding them both. The tension he'd felt all morning was fading away.
"I am glad you were able to make it here. How are you holding on?"
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"The Devil himself could not have detained me," she replied softly, nuzzling more against him, letting the heat melt between them. "I'm holding on as well as I can, and you, love?"
Anne tilted her head a bit, her lips moving to brush against his neck, craving the contact with his skin they had been so denied.
"I took your advice - the ladies are preparing a play for Her Majesty, and the King seemed satisfied with that when I gave it as a reason that I could not see him," Anne told him. "He seemed busy enough anyway, preparing for all the festivities."
But she didn't want to talk much more of the King now. It was bad enough she had to spend endless hours with her father and brother discussing matters of the King. She was only given little time with Thomas, surely there were better topics of discussion.
"God, help me, but I have missed you so sorely..." Anne sighed, nuzzling against the crook of his neck.
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"Good. A play should keep your mind occupied. I can't wait to see how it turns out." He kissed Anne's forehead. "I think my sister Margaret might like to join your play. Would you ask her?" She was a few years younger than Anne and spent time at court on and off. Wyatt was almost certain his sister would accept Anne as her friend if she so wanted.
A couple of young choir boys came running around the corner, laughing, chasing each other. They might have been momentarily startled to come across a cuddling couple but being of age when such a sight could only evoke a wrinkled nose and a gagging reflex, they had no interest in looking closely enough to recognize Wyatt, let alone Anne whose face was hidden against his neck.
Chuckling, Wyatt took Anne's hand and lead them to a slightly more secluded corner. He held her face between his hands as if to memorize her features.
"My father is keeping me busy. I shouldn't tell you but I'm to deliver a sum of money to-," he stopped in time. "Well, it's best you don't know the details. In any case, if you don't see me around or find any letters, you'll know I'm running errands on father's behalf."
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"Of course, Thomas," Anne nodded and smiled softly. She had no quarrel with Margaret, she seemed a sweet enough girl. Anne could use more friends than the nervous and nibbly Jane Parker anyway. "I shall invite her to join when next I see her."
Anne paused a moment, quietly contemplating. "Do you suppose...do you suppose she might help us?" Her hesitation did not convey much hope in the suggestion - but then again, her own siblings had proven themselves to be perfectly useless in that regard. But not everyone was a Boleyn, thank God. A part of Anne's mind, unhelpfully, suggested that perhaps Margaret might find some kindness in her, some way to help them.
But it wasn't something she put all her hope behind.
Anne could barely see the choir boys as they played, but anyone's voice would have made her tense as she did then. She kept her face buried against his neck, waiting until Wyatt took her hand and led her away. As he took her face in his hands, Anne smiled, reveling in the warmth of his hands against her face. She couldn't help but close her eyes for a moment.
"So you're still a rising star then, my beloved Poet, to be given such responsibility," Anne chuckled. "I suppose I shall have to keep busier than I already intended, if you will be leaving me for a time."
She paused, tipping her head a bit to brush her lips against his palm, along the tips of his fingers.
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"I doubt it's a good idea to let her on in our secret but she is unassuming, usually believing the best of others. I don't think she'd be the first to disapprove our friendship."
Wyatt pressed their foreheads together and smiled at her words though he was sad as well. "I would much rather be the shooting star that granted all your wishes." He was grateful to be given more responsibility but it just felt like the absolute wrong time for that to happen. "I will miss my brave falcon when I'm away."
Thinking of his sister some more, he didn't fancy the idea of using her trusting personality but, "As long as we act respectfully, seeking Margaret's help is a possibility. She can't end up feeling betrayed or tricked into doing something that's against her conscience." Wyatt sighed. "I would loathe to ask her to testify against Elizabeth but I suppose we shouldn't leave any stones unturned. At the last resort."
That felt like enough of talking. Wyatt backed himself against the cathedral, pulling Anne to stand between his legs and lost himself in a passionate kiss.
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"It was only a suggestion - something to consider, I suppose," Anne shrugged.
Her fingers came up, brushing against his lips as he pressed his forehead to hers. A smile stretched across her face. "Would that you could, my first wish would be to always be in your embrace."
But yes, enough talk. They could talk anytime, even with others around - though with the latter their topics were admittedly limited. But they were still able. They had so little time to hold each other and kiss and touch.
Hence why she was so happy when he pulled her up to him. Only too eager did she take up that position between his legs, rolling her body into his, her hips flush against his own. Her lips parted to return that kiss, too passionate and tipping her head to deepen it still. Both hands came up to rest against his chest as Anne ran her tongue slowly along the ridge of his lower lip. Asking entrance, desperate to reunite with his and explore the wet heat of his mouth.
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His hands fell down to her waist, finding the narrow strip of her skin between the bodice and skirt. It wasn't much but having gone these weeks without touching her, it was enough to get his blood rushing. Wyatt dug his fingers into her, a little rough but not hurting her. He was fairly certain she wouldn't mind it.
Obediently his tongue came out to meet hers, causing another rush of excitement that forced his eyes shut. He couldn't help his body shuddering for the longing to feel her properly. But his urge to tip her down on the ground had to be fought against. This wasn't the place. He sucked her upper lip and her bottom lip, hungry and beside his mind.
Trailing his hands up her sides, Wyatt encouraged Anne to wrap her hands around his neck. He bent down a little to ran his tongue along the side of her throat. Then he reached under her backside. Her heavy dress didn't make it particularly easy but if she held onto him, he could lift her up for a moment.
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Her tongue anxiously slid into his mouth, around his own tongue when offered. His taste was always so sweet and musky and warm. It was easy to see why Anne was so addicted.
God, if only he could take her properly, as they both so longed. This was too long to endure without feeling him again, skin against skin in low candlelight. As his tongue ran down her neck Anne's breath hitched, a low moan escaping her. She tipped her head and offered more of her skin. At the same time, her hands slid up to wrap her arms around his neck. His grip at her rear made her chuckle low. She was only too ready to let him lift her after she was properly positioned.
"Thomas..." his name was a soft sigh on her lips, wanting more of his touch, as always.
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He loved her. Even if he had to see her with other people - with Henry even - it was better than not seeing her at all. While it didn't always feel that way, it was the truth.
Wyatt got a good hold of Anne and lifted her up so that her head was at a higher lever than his. Taking a few steps away from the wall of the church he spinned around, childlike and happy. Though then he had to bounce her up a smidge to be able to carry her better.
"Do you suppose you'll be able to spend some time at Hever before New Year's? Without your whole family around, that is. I should love to make a visit. Or... I could visit to make love." He grinned, almost (just almost) ashamed of his words.
"To kiss under the mistletoe, if it pleases the lady." He wouldn't mind a kiss here and now, either.
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"I love you," she replied.
Anne paused, considering his question.
"I know that father is planning festivities at Hever. I could indeed be there for a time, if it meant that I could see you," Anne smiled at the possibility, though she did take the opportunity to gently sway his shoulder at the mention of visiting to make love. "Assuming I let you, Sir Thomas!"
So it was a dare.
Though at the mention of mistletoe, Anne couldn't help letting her fingers run through his hair.
"A kiss under the mistletoe, a kiss upon New Year's Eve - for it is indeed frightfully bad luck to start a new year without a kiss from one's love."
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"I would never do a thing that wouldn't have your full approval, Mistress Boleyn. May I," he frowned, partly for show, as he searched for the right words, "express my heartfelt desire that your good lady would offer this poor servant... a warm spot beside the fireplace in her chamber? Winter nights can be so cold. And lonely."
It would be difficult to sneak into her chamber if there were guests aplenty at Hever, and even if he were successful in that, it would be near impossible to have quality time with her, but like so many things with Anne, it was better than nothing.
"As a close family friend, mayhaps I can stay longer than the ordinary guest?" He might have been pushing it ever so slightly.
He bounced her up again, and walked a few steps to be under the colorful stained-glass windows of the church.
"I feel we should practise kissing, so that we're not making fools of ourselves when the New Year is upon us. Don't you agree?"
Unless he put her back down, he was more or less at her mercy on this matter because he couldn't reach her mouth if she didn't tip her head down.
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"You may, Thomas - if you can seduce me. Though our time may be limited, I think a little challenge might be fun. But I'm sure convincing a lady to allow you into her bed, atop her on the floor or in her family's gardens, would hardly be a challenge for you," he'd already accomplished one such task, Anne figured he'd get the hint.
She brushed a light kiss against his lips, brief and fleeting as he spoke again.
"I see no reason why you couldn't stay longer than the other guests. Though I'm certain George would try to hog all the time with you to himself," Anne pouted a little at that notion. She would likely have to endure George's pressing of Thomas to reveal his phantom maid.
But the smile returned to her lips as he suggested practicing. She leaned in a bit, her lips just barely an inch from his.
"You do have a point. Can't be kissing sloppily at such events, now can we?" Anne whispered.
She closed the gap between their lips, kissing him softly at first, his lower lip gently wedged between both of hers.
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"Ah... you leave me with little choice but to try to seduce you then, my dear. I see I must put my faith on words again. And should I fail-," he shook his head, "I refuse to fail. I cannot."
She was being cruel again, teasing him with almost-kisses. The pouting usually worked on her favour, however. "George is our cover, the reason I can visit. I will give him my time to gain a bit of yours."
A quiet whimper left his throat when she finally kissed him. Wyatt's hands released the grip of Anne, easing her down to stand on her own two feet again. Yet he held her close and kept their lips connected. The kiss turned from sweet to fiery and back again, his tongue echoing the changes.
"Mm-mh. We should make this a weekly thing," he whispered in her ear.
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As he set her down, Anne moved her body as best she could. Sliding down his form to stand before him. His kiss was all heat that called out to and stoked her own. Again her tongue eagerly partook of the taste of sugared almonds that she so loved.
"We should," she agreed, breathless as he whispered to her. Anne tipped her head down, brushing her lips against his neck, his ear. She flicked her tongue against the shell of his ear, and even let out a soft moan at the press of his body against hers. "This long without you has been far too long."
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His ears were far more sensitive than he cared to admit; anytime Anne's mouth went anywhere near them, Wyatt's mind shut down momentarily. His shoulders twitched and head dipped.
"Ah-h. You are making the wait very difficult for me." Bringing his gaze up, he nudged Anne's nose with his, willing her to look at him again.
"Should I let you to your duties now? And us, back to letters and quick glances over the room."
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On some level Anne knew about Wyatt's sensitive ears. It's probably what fueled the instinct to attend them so carefully as she did. A gentle lick and stroke of her tongue here, a slight nibble of her teeth there.
But then he's nudging her face from his ear, calling her attention back.
"The wait is always difficult on me, Thomas," she countered. But she was only too happy to press her forehead to his and look affectionately up to him.
But the meeting was nearly done.
"I suppose, if we must," Anne sighed. "And eagerly shall I await your visit to Hever."
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"I know. Be brave. I think of you every day. First thing when I wake up and the last thing before I fall asleep." It was true, for the most part. He chose to omit the times he drank too much and not remembered her before passing out. Not that those times couldn't have been included because pining for her was the reason for his inebriation. He wasn't particularly proud of doing that, but it was what it was.
"Hmh. Christmas seems so far away but I am sure it'll be all the sweeter to hold you then. But I wouldn't be sorry if I caught you for even the briefest of moments before that. A warm embrace from you would fuel many a day for me."
He pulled Anne into one more hug and kissed her softly one more time. Then he waited for her to go, feeling like he'd just been given the moon and the stars yet still going without them.
The next day, it being the Advent Sunday and hence an important day, Wyatt attended Mass with family members. He observed Anne throughout the ceremony, paying little heed to the priest and his sermon. He doubted she'd try to see him afterwards so he didn't stay behind.
Early on Monday he left on his mission towards Kent but not without dropping a note to Anne. It was a rather sappy letter, full of flowery descriptions of his feelings and longings, with the reminder that he'd be gone for several days. Since he was carrying a considerable sum of money, he couldn't really tell anyone of his route or even that he was going. However, a more valuable cargo for him was one of Anne's earlier letters that he brought along so he could read her loving words while journeying.
Seeing that his travels took him near Allington, Wyatt paid a visit to his mother and accompanied her to London for the rest of the holiday season. Upon arrival he noted that the planning for the Christmas festivities was well under way. Even Margaret had got a small role to play.
He made himself as easily approachable as possible, taking part in card games and lingering about whenever something interesting was happening. If there was a chance to see and talk to Anne, he would take it.
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"Worry not, dearest heart; for it is in a falcon's very nature to be brave," her eyes flickered to his lips, then back to his eyes again. "My thoughts often linger on you - as you said, first thing in the morning, and especially in the dark before I fall asleep." For had not some of their greatest exploits been completed in the shadows?
Christmas was indeed far off. But it would likely not occur to her just how long it would be - there was plenty to do before she could return to Hever, so Anne would have little idle time to sigh and lament over time not spent with Thomas.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or so they say," Anne smiled. "Not that I do not treasure the little time we do get to ourselves as it is now. But a lengthier absence like that may indeed make the heat between us burn hotter and stronger than it already burns."
She was on fire already, and they had been this far apart for a few weeks now. Add on another few weeks, and Anne was likely to pin him to the nearest hard surface she could find and tear his clothes right off - to hell with being ladylike!
"We shall go on as we have been, then: If we can steal a brief moment for even a most fleeting kiss, we shall. Otherwise," Anne leaned up as Thomas pulled her into his arms and kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him to embrace him. "I must bid you farewell for now, my love."
And so she did leave, slowly, reluctantly. If she could only have stayed bit longer, but then she would likely have never left his embrace.
Keeping her flawless act intact, Anne went about her duties as a lady-in-waiting to the Queen. She kept her promise to Thomas, and when next she saw Margaret, she invited her to join the play she and the ladies had planned for the Queen, and to her delight Margaret had eagerly accepted. Anne convinced Mark Smeaton - though admittedly it was hardly 'convincing', she'd asked him once and he'd accepted - to compose the music for the play. She wanted it to be light and frivolous, despite the fact that the Queen herself was anything but.
Anne had not expected a letter before Thomas left, but out of force of habit she checked the urn and found one. His words warmed her heart and brought tears to her eyes. Quickly she penned a response, detailing her own depth of feelings for him; her devotion, even in his absence; how the King could try all he liked to win her heart but it already belonged and would always belong to Thomas.
The ladies used all their spare time planning and practicing the play. Nothing but perfection would be acceptable for her majesty. As expected, the weeks had gone by quickly enough - it was Thursday, and Anne was planning to return to Hever on Monday. The production was scheduled for the next evening, to kick off the weekend events. There were feasts and other small plays planned.
With Thomas so near, Anne tried not to let her gaze linger on him too long to give them away. But it was so difficult. Overwhelmed with the joy of the season, Anne wanted only to share in that joy with Thomas. And only Thomas. As the games ended, Anne couldn't help but dare to approach Thomas - just for the briefest word.
"Sir Thomas, I hope to see you at the ladies' production for her majesty tomorrow night - Master Smeaton has composed a most jovial score for the play and your sister has indeed worked very hard at her role."
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For every now and then on his travels, if he wasn't able to stay overnight at any of his friends' homes, he found himself on a narrow and uncomfortable bunk in a monastery. Or worse yet, on a church bench, if no other option was available and the weather was too foul to stay outdoors. Though all things considered, he was grateful for any place that had a roof over it. Besides, fond memories of Anne often lulled him to sleep after a long journey. He wasn't prone to insomnia.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder. He had to wonder about that. He certainly wished that for Henry, the absence from Anne's company wasn't working like that. Far better it would be if Henry directed his attentions to some other lady, barring Wyatt's own sister, of course. Out of sight, out of mind? Unfortunately, according to Anne, Thomas Boleyn was far too eager to make sure her daughter was in the King's vicinity as much as possible.
But now Wyatt himself was back at court. Wearing his black velvet and polished boots, he felt pretty winsome. A pleasant expression pasted on his face, he engaged in discussions with just about everyone, and whenever he noticed Anne looking at his direction, Wyatt smiled and placed his right hand over his heart.
Then she approached him on her own. Wyatt bowed down deep. "Mistress Anne. Thank you for asking, I wouldn't want to miss your play for the world. You can count on me being there, giving the loudest cheer."
He nodded toward Margaret who was shyly standing near a table with refreshments. "I wish to thank you on behalf of my sister, too. She tells me of your kindness. And Mark... He has been most secretive about the music. That must be a good sign."
It was a pain for him to keep up formalities when all he really wanted was to touch her.
"Is your family still planning to return to Hever for the end of the holiday season?"
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