Full Summary: Lady Laura Alcott of Westmore is suddenly widowed by the death of her husband, Sir William Alcott while among the French court. Laura returns to the court of King Henry the VIII after a three year absence from England. However, there is trouble with the queen. Queen Katherine grows old and time is running out for her to bear the king’s son and heir. Laura finds herself witnessing the fall of the kind Queen Katherine of Aragon to make way for Anne Boleyn, the whore who is making her way into the king’s heart as well as the throne of England. Laura hopes to remain on the sidelines during these tragic events, but when she catches the eye of Thomas Howard, her life goes spinning out of control in a tale of lust, betrayal, and lies.

A/N: First off, I know that Thomas Howard (uncle of Mary and Anne Boleyn) was not a real likable character. In fact, he was a real a-hole. There are a lot of unlikable characters in stories these days, but they have a story which still deserves to be told. I can’t really think of a better reason why I’m writing this, sorry.

A Howard Mistress follows the plot of Philippa Gregory’s book, The Other Boleyn Girl. However, I’ll be adding in Laura’s story (main character) and her connection to Thomas Howard, Duke of Surrey soon to be Duke of Norfolk. I also might be tweaking a few other things so don’t be too alarmed. In short, half the plot is Philippa Gregory’s and the other half is mine. There will be random disclaimers to remind everyone of this (Ah, the beauty of fan fiction). I’ve added a few original characters of my own – like Laura – completely from my own brain. You’ll recognize the others if you’ve read Philippa’s book and know who the historical characters are.

Thank you for reading!

Much love,

TheUnfoldingWarmth

Chapter One: Return to King Henry’s Court

Lady Laura Alcott of Westmore curtsied deeply before Her Majesty the queen upon her entrance into the queen’s privy chamber. All about Queen Katherine were her ladies in waiting busying themselves with sewing or reading. The queen herself sat in her tall-backed chair dressed in her Spanish fashions with her young daughter, Princess Mary, close by. She observed Laura in her deep, steady curtsy before telling her to rise.

“So, you are Lady Westmore?” the queen asked, her English heavy with a Spanish accent.

Lady Westmore simply bowed her head in the affirmative.

“Otherwise known as Laura Alcott?”

“That is correct, Your Majesty,” Laura replied.

Laura found that she was surprised at how calm she was, standing before the queen of England, wife of the handsome King Henry the VIII. There were no butterflies in her stomach as she observed the near ridiculous Spanish hood that resembled a roof upon the queen’s head. However, Her Majesty carried it with such a dignity and grace that it looked less like a ludicrous ornament and more like a crown.

“I am sorry for the death of your husband, Lady Westmore,” she said.

Laura curtsied again. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The queen went straight to the matter at hand. “With the recent death of Lady Arenberg, my ladies and maids-in-waiting need someone to keep order over them. My husband, the king, has requested that you take the position.”

Her Majesty so graciously did not use the word “ordered” in place of “requested”, even if it was exactly what the king had done in the situation. The queen, no matter how powerful over her subjects, had no power of her husband, King Henry.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Laura replied.

The queen continued, “You have not been at our court for nearly three or four years, correct?”

“Exactly three years and seven months, Your Majesty.”

“And how is the French court these days, Lady Westmore?”

“Nothing at all compared to the refined court of Your Majesty’s,” Laura said cunningly.

Queen Katherine raised her slender eyebrows at this, but she did not comment on the matter. “I hope that you find your chambers to your liking, Lady Westmore. It is a pleasure to have you here. Welcome back to court.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty,” Laura said, curtsying again before being escorted by the guards out of the chamber and back to her rooms.

As the head lady in waiting to the queen, Laura’s rooms were adjacent to the queen’s royal chambers. Dinner in the great hall was to be served in an hour or so and a maid appeared to help Laura dress for the evening.

While the maid assisted Laura in removing her traveling attire, Laura silently practiced what she should say during her meeting with the king at dinner. Of course, she would have to present herself to him immediately to thank him for his invitation back to court as well as her new position he had granted her. It was an honor to be recognized by the king of England himself for such a place at court.

The king had always favored her three years ago when she first came to court as a single young woman at the king’s request and at her grandmother, the Duchess of Newbury’s delight. Laura’s father had been a most respected advisor to King Henry the VII during his final years and to Henry the VIII until he himself died along with Laura’s mother in a shipwreck on their way to France. Laura was an only child and was sent away to live with her grandmother on her country estate until she was first invited to court.

While at court, she met Sir William Alcott. He took a particular interest in her and asked the Duchess of Newbury for Laura’s hand in marriage. Laura’s grandmother agreed and Laura was married quickly. Within a few months, King Henry sent William to France; Laura accompanied him. King Henry had given him the task of ambassador to Henry’s sister, the Queen of France, as well as spy on the King of France.

Although an English princess sat on the French throne, the kings of the two countries did not get along well and a war was underway. William did the king’s bidding until he tragically died of the sweat, and King Henry honored him for his loyal services.

The maid-in-waiting tugged at the strings of Laura’s corset, causing Laura to gasp. The maid hesitated. Laura ordered her to pull until her waist was nearly pencil-thin and her breasts were pressed into swollen half-moons peeking out along the bodice. The maid then helped her step into a dress of red satin with gold trim along the bodice and gold thread stitched up and down the sleeves.

When the maid reached for a matching hood, Laura shook her head. “I will not wear a hood tonight.”

The maid looked quite taken aback, but she nodded mutely and put the hood away. She helped Laura fasten a gold necklace with rubies around her neck and inserted ruby earrings into her earlobes.

“That will be all,” Laura said firmly.

The maid curtsied (not very well) before leaving the room. Laura went through the door that adjoined her rooms with the queen’s and joined the queen and her ladies until dinner was announced.

She arranged herself close to the fire like many of the ladies since it was still early spring and the castle was often drafty. One of the women addressed herself as Pippa Morris, a maid-in-waiting. She was a pretty girl of fourteen or fifteen with shining golden hair and brilliant blue eyes. Laura immediately thought of her as a maid who was not a favorite of the queen since everything she wore was a French fashion item. Laura herself had the decency to wear a few things of the Spanish fashion in order to impress the queen.

“Was your journey dreadfully long, Lady Westmore?” Pippa Morris asked. Her stitching lay quite forgotten.

Laura replied with a soft smile. “By no means, the scenery was so diverting.”

“Oh, I so love that necklace, Lady Westmore,” Mistress Morris exclaimed. “And those lovely earrings, too. You certainly are a lady with means.”

Laura stared at this bold, naïve girl. Yes, it was true that she had a great deal of fortune; her parent’s entire treasury was left to her when they died along with her husband’s possessions and fortune when he passed since they had no children together.

“And, if I may say so myself,” Mistress Morris said, leaning forward to whisper, “your choice to not wear a hood is very unique.” She then giggled as though it was all very scandalous.

Laura rolled her eyes. This girl was forgetting to whom she was speaking. “You forget that with one word I can send you to your room without dinner. Do not think for a moment that I do not have that power,” Laura said firmly.

Pippa blinked and stopped her childish giggling immediately. “Yes, of course, Lady Westmore.”

The girl returned to her pathetic stitching just as the queen rose to her feet. “Ladies,” she said, “let us go to dinner.”

The women rose and formed a line behind their queen in order of rank and age. The eldest ladies took their places behind Her Majesty followed by the younger ladies. Then, the maids oldest to youngest took their places at the end of the line. Her Highness then led the way out of her chambers and into the corridor. Two guards appeared and escorted their party down to the great hall.

Laura was positioned directly behind the queen on their way down to dinner. She found that she had missed the grand tapestries that hung on the walls and the royal portraits along with the atmosphere. She was back at the English court, and though she had long outgrown the gossip which circulated like vultures over them, she had missed the court life of England.

The descended a grand staircase down to the main floor of the castle and the doors to the great hall were pulled open to admit them. The sight of the long, high-ceiling room was familiar to Laura. It was brightly lit with candles and torches everywhere and the fireplaces filled with a blazing fire in each. There were long tables arranged on one end of the room with an open space at the other for dancing. A platform with two large chairs was at the head of the room for the king and queen to sit after they had eaten to watch the dancing.

Men and women of the court bowed as their queen passed. She ascended the platform and sat in the chair that was to the right of the king’s throne to await her husband’s appearance. Courtiers were standing about the room huddled in groups of conversation.

Lady Westmore stood along in the hall. Three years had changed the court so much that she was sure that no one remembered her.

“Laura Alcott?” a male voice asked.

Laura turned to face Peter Roberts, a cousin on her mother’s side of the family. She smiled pleasurably and curtsied to her relative. “Peter.”

“Or shall I say Lady Westmore?” he teased.

“You are only jealous, cousin,” Laura replied with a twinkle in her eye.

Peter gave her a sad smile. “Mourning for your husband, then?”

“I cried until there were no more tears to shed, if that is what you mean.”

“There is something different about you. I thought that may be it,” he said, pausing to observe her. “Three and a half years, dear cousin, since we’ve seen each other last.”

“I might have never returned were it not for the king,” Laura admitted.

Roberts grinned. “Yes. Tell me, what is it like controlling a castle full of giggling, unruly maids-in-waiting?”

“I do not know yet. I have only just arrived.”

“And you have yet to meet the king?”

Laura nodded.

“Not to worry, then, for you were his favorite when you were last here, and it is obvious that he still does like you, judging by the honor he has bestowed upon you.”

“Oh, really, Peter. I am a widow now, hardly an object of pleasure for His Highness.”

“I’ll bet on it that he still favors your pretty face. However, you’ll find that court itself has much changed, cousin,” Roberts warned.

Laura’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He leaned in and said in a low voice, “You do remember that the king and queen were a happy married couple once?”

“‘Were’?” Laura said with a raised eyebrow. She had heard things whilst she was in the French court, but she could hardly believe such rumors.

Peter when on to explain. “The queen may have given birth to a daughter, but she has yet to have a son.”

Laura shook her head, looking at queen sitting on her throne with such dignity and poise. “There is still time,” she whispered. “She is only seven and thirty years.”

Her cousin shook his head in the negative. “The time of her monthly courses runs short. She might not bear a son at all and it would be the end of our king’s royal line as we know it.”

“It will be the death of England if she does not bear a son,” Laura breathed.

Peter snorted. “It may very well be the death of her.”

The doors to the great hall opened again and the king himself strolled in. He was followed by his advisors in a line behind him. Laura had to keep herself from gawking and force herself to curtsy deeply as he entered just as everyone else either bowed or curtsied. He was just as handsome as she remembered, a man in his prime, a king of England.

He greeted his wife, the queen, before he sat down on his throne. While he relaxed, the queen looked directly at Laura and gestured that she come forward. Laura moved across the room with as much grace as she could.

Thomas Howard stood beside the king’s throne as a woman of about twenty years stepped forward at the silent command of the queen. She was dressed in scarlet colors trimmed in gold and looked every bit the woman with wealth.

“Your Majesty,” the queen said to her husband, “Lady Westmore.”

This Lady Westmore bent her beautiful face and curtsied deeply. Thomas’s dark eyes flicked down to her bodice before forcing his eyes back to the top of her head so no one would notice his attraction.

“Lady Westmore,” the king said, delighted. “Welcome to court.”

At his words, Lady Westmore rose without a single quiver or stumble. Her smile was soft upon her full lips as she looked up at the handsome king. “Thank you, sire. I am so grateful for the honor that you have bestowed upon me. If my husband were still living, he would be greatly honored.”

Just then, the food was being brought in. Lady Westmore waited to be dismissed. The king stood and beckoned a servant to him. He spoke to the servant in a low voice, but loud enough for Lady Westmore to hear. “Make a place for Lady Westmore next to mine. We have much to discuss.”

Lady Westmore flashed the king another one of her handsome smiles before she dipped into a final curtsy. Thomas Howard began to wonder if that smile was how she managed to get her place at court.

The entire court sat down to dinner and Thomas found himself sitting across from Lady Westmore as she sat next to the king. Throughout dinner she charmed the king with her cunning smile and her adoring eyes.

“I was deeply sorry to hear the news of your husband’s death, Lady Westmore,” the king spoke.

She replied with simply, “He served His Majesty until the end, sire.”

“You must miss him terribly.”

“William was always a loving and kind man. A woman could not ask for a better husband, Your Majesty.”

“And how is the French court of late? Are the fashions every changing as well as the gossip?” the king asked with a smile.

Lady Westmore smiled in return. “The French court is a delight for a woman’s need to chatter and flutter about. I find that I have tired to such silly pastimes.”

“Did your husband provide a much more amiable activity for you?”

Her green eyes widened with surprise and a charming blush crept up into her cheeks. “Your Majesty, please….”

“I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you, Lady Westmore,” the king apologized.

“No need to be sorry, sire. I’m just a little warm.” She sipped her wine while the king observed her.

“Are you enjoying the quail, Lady Westmore?” the king asked, watching her gently stab a piece of the meat with her fork and bring it to her lips. She tortured the king by delaying her reply to chew the quail slowly before swallowing. Her throat contracted pleasingly in the act and she turned to smile at His Majesty.

“It is positively delectable, Your Majesty,” she breathed.

This woman knew how to play the game, Thomas Howard observed. She had the king wrapped around her finger at first sight. Bessie Blount would be ancient history before the night was out.

However, Thomas could not deny that he was surprised by the fact that the king was paying attention to this woman when there were plenty of younger and just as pretty girls in the room. This woman was twenty years old and a widow. The king chose this woman over the pretty little virgins sitting around him, just begging for a glance from him.

“Your grandmother, the Duchess of Newbury, is well, I trust, Lady Westmore?” Thomas asked.

“She is very well, thank you, Your Grace,” she said coolly.

She knew his title, too. This woman truly knew the ways of the court: flirt with the king and know everyone. She was off to a good start this evening.

“You know the Duke of Surrey?” the king asked her lightly.

She bowed her head towards the king in the affirmative. “Indeed. His father and my grandmother are first cousins. But who isn’t connected to the Howard family these days?”

The king chuckled and Thomas Howard frowned before returning to his dinner.

When dinner was finished, there was to be dancing and music. The king had definitely not tired of Lady Westmore as he clapped his hands for music and took her hand for the first dance of the evening. She spun and clapped and dipped for the king with her head up and smiling. The king never took his eyes off her.

Thomas Howard never took his eyes off her either. He found himself drawn to this woman in a way that he could not explain to himself. As the king swept her across the floor in a quick-stepping dance, Thomas realized that this woman was no ordinary lady of the court.