As Cromwell made his way toward the King's chamber, he encountered the Queen's brother, Edward, standing guard before the door.

"Let me through," Cromwell stated calmly. "I have news for the King's Majesty."

Edward leaned against the door and smirked. "The Queen's news, I'm sure, is more welcome, Master Cromwell."

No doubt, Cromwell thought wryly. Then, aloud, "I am the King's minister, Viscount Beauchamp, and I must insist."

"Master Cromwell, the Queen is telling the King that he will be the father of a son come Twelfth Night." He leaned forward and sneered, "And when my nephew is Prince of Wales, you can be sure your head will not rest so comfortably on those smith-boy shoulders."

Cromwell never faltered. "Your faith in your influence is interesting, sir." Despite Edward's gloating, he would not respond further.

~*~

"Your Majesty, I believe I am with child."

He stared at her prim face, her folded hands. She did not seem either happy or sad—she was oddly expressionless, waiting for his reaction.

"Pregnant?" Henry whispered. "You are certain?"

"I have missed my courses, and the symptoms are there. Until the babe moves, we cannot be sure, but I have good reason to assume."

He pasted a smile on his face. "If it is so, my Jane, then I am the happiest man on Earth! Of course, we must keep this between ourselves until the quickening…"

"Oh, my family already knows," she said glibly.

"You told your family before your husband?" he demanded, rising to his feet in his ire.

"I—" For the first time, Henry saw an emotion cross her face: fear. Instead of giving her a way out of her explanation by yelling at her, he stood with his arms crossed and waited.

"I only wanted to get advice on how long to wait to be sure!" she finally cried, unable to take the silence anymore.

Henry leaned forward and grabbed the necklace around her neck, pulling her forward until she stumbled against his chest, staring up into his red face. "If you loved me, Jane, you would have been here moments after you had your suspicions, telling me that we hoped to have our child! You don't love me—did you ever?" He thrust her away from him and headed for the door, exploding out of it.

"Congratulations, Your—" Edward began, a smile on his face that faltered as he took in the scene.

"Crum, to me!" Henry barked, pushing back against Edward and heading for Cromwell's chambers.

He collapsed into a chair and stared into the fire. "Crum, was I wrong to take Jane as my wife?"

Cromwell stood for a moment, weighing the most politic response. "I cannot say you were wrong, Your Majesty… perhaps merely misled?"

"Yes! Misled! I thought she was being virtuous before our marriage, but she did not… does not… desire me! Of the faults Anne had, lack of desire was far from one of them!"

Cromwell cleared his throat. "Speaking of the Marquess of Pembroke, Your Majesty, I have had a letter from her just today. I would like to show it to you."

He handed the expensive parchment to Henry and backed away a respectful distance, watching his expressions to mark his progress through the letter. When Henry swore an oath and leapt to his feet, it took all of Cromwell's considerable willpower to stand his ground.

"Damn her!"

He kicked a chair over in his anger, sending it skittering across the room on its unsteady legs to tip over next to the fireplace.

"How could she do this to me?!"

"Your Majesty, I give my rooms to you freely—take all the time you need. Call for me when you wish me to respond." With that, Cromwell left the room, closing the room fast behind him.

From famine to feast! Two women were pregnant with Henry's children—he had no doubt Anne's was his, although plenty of people had tried to convince him of her infidelity.

Now what?

~*~

"A marriage of good faith?" Henry repeated dubiously, tapping on Cromwell's desk with a ring from his finger.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"I seem to remember Wolsey attempting to get me to declare that situation with the Dowager Princess of Wales."

"Yes, Your Majesty, but at that time it would have required the blessing of the Bishop of Rome. Since you are Supreme Head of the English church, it is a way to hedge your bets. In this way, the Lady Elizabeth and the Marquess' new child would be legitimized, as would the child of the Queen. It is especially appropriate in this case, since the first investigation into the Marquess' precontract with Percy of Northumberland yielded the result that the precontract was nonexistent. At the time of the conception of the children, you and Her Grace had no reason to suspect that your marriage was not a true one."

"Thus doubling my chances for a boy," Henry mused, his face pensive. Cromwell held his breath. Anne being back in Henry's good graces could only improve Cromwell's position, and lessen the Seymours.

"Write up a draft of a decree for Parliament, Crum," Henry said finally. "I am off to see the Lady Elizabeth. I will return when I return."

"Shall I tell the Queen, Your Majesty?"

"Do as you will. She is of no concern to me at the moment."

~*~

"Where is the King?" Edward Seymour demanded of a sobbing Jane, attempting to get a straight word out of her.

"To see…Anne…" she hiccoughed, eyes streaming. Without warning, Edward's hand flashed out and slapped her across the face, startling her out of her tears.

"You IDIOT. You are his rightful wife and pregnant with his babe, and yet you cannot keep him from the putain noir and her changeling?"

"He does not listen to me, Edward! I have prayed and done as I did before…"

"A wife and a lover are two different things, you stupid whore! You must change with him, keep him interested! If he wanted a pious wife, he would have kept Katherine of Aragon." Edward turned on his heel. "I am disgusted with your entire sex. You had better include in your prayers a plea for Henry to return to you, or there will be hell to pay." He pointed at her stomach. "That better be a boy!"

~*~

As Henry's horse galloped into the yard of Anne's home, he immediately saw his daughter with a lady-in waiting out in the side yard, plucking roses and studiously avoiding the thorns.

At the sound of the horse, the pair looked up. The lady-in-waiting frowned, attempting to puzzle out the new arrival, but Elizabeth had no doubts. "PAPA!" she shouted, and began to run full tilt toward him as he swung down from the saddle. She ran so fast that her slim legs were completely entangled in the gown she wore and she fell to her knees, but was back on her feet in a flash to continue her sprint. Henry's heart swelled at the sight of her slim, well-formed body and sprightly movement. He and Anne were good stock—the proof was mere paces from him and closing in rapidly.

Suddenly, a few feet from him, Elizabeth stopped dead. Henry frowned, confused, and was about to open his arms to her when she dropped to her knees again, deliberately this time.

"You honor us, Your Majesty," her young voice piped as she studied his boots.

"Oh, Bess," he said softly, reaching down and rising her up. "Papa. Always Papa to you."

The young girl's eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled. She threw herself at his waist, hugging him to her. Henry looked over his daughter's head to see Anne standing in the doorway, her own eyes full of tears.

"Elizabeth," Anne began, but Henry put his hand up and silenced her. He bent and picked Elizabeth up, putting her to his hip and making his way back to his former wife.

"My lady."

"Your Majesty… you are always welcome here."

"Thank you. Bess, would you like to show me your room?" he asked the quiet girl, who nodded frantically, her tears dried.

"Oh yes! I have a tutor, Papa, one of my own! I'm learning French!"

"Ah, ma petite fille cultivée!" he smiled. He glanced over at Anne. "And when we're done, my own sweetheart, your mother and I must talk alone."

"Yes, we must," Anne answered, and her eyes were warm.