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| War on Christmas; Tag: Katydid | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 15 2010, 09:52 PM (393 Views) | |
| John Dudley | Nov 15 2010, 09:52 PM Post #1 |
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A few days before Christmas 1511 The Privy Council meeting was anything but lightening to the spirit, especially so soon before Christmas. War was everything but a certainty now, and while John would have rejoiced in his bachelor days, now he worried. Before he was married, he would grasp the opportunity to serve his country and his King with both hands and wring it for all it was worth. Now that he was a married man with a wife that he loved, the possibility of going to war terrified him. John Dudley was no coward, oh no! He would gladly die for his country, and to protect Catherine and his family for foreign invasion. But that was just it. If he died, what would become of Catherine? Everything would fall to Andrew, and John knew his brother wasn't reliable. It wasn't just that -- What if, while at war, England was invaded and something happened to Catherine? John returned to his and Catherine's room in low spirits. He doffed his doublet, revealing his shirt underneath. Was it hot in their rooms, or was it just him? With a sigh, he sat behind his desk and raked his fingers through his hair. What would Catherine do if he died? What would he do if she died at the hands of perfidious French? And furthermore, just how many people would he have to kill to make sure he returned to his Catherine? Another sigh escaped the Earl of Warwick's lips and he stared at the wood grain of his desk. Why did the Privy Council have to dampen his mood so, and right before Christmas too? |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Nov 15 2010, 10:18 PM Post #2 |
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vérité sans peur
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A fit of inspiration brought Catherine back to their chambers, simply because it never seemed to go her way when she wished to interrupt John's business. Jokingly, she had said she would come entertain him when he was bored. Every time she had tried, it ended in disaster or something like that. At any rate, it was one reason why she made her way from the Queen's apartments, expecting some joyous reaction as she walked in the room, freeing him from the boredom she only imagined he must have been feeling dealing with never ending business. It just so happened she also had news to impart to him, news she knew would make him wildly happy just as it filled her with a sense of impending dread. The husband she saw sitting at his desk was not the man she expected to see, his face filled with something like despair. Not as dramatic, maybe, but enough to concern Catherine who hadn't seen him look so genuinely upset. She expected it one day, but they had only been married a little over three months and had only known each other for five. Hesitating, she paused at the door, her hand on the handle, lips pursed. "John?" she asked in a quiet voice of concern, brows furrowing in worry. Without thinking much at all she moved to the desk, her gown rustling on the clean wood floors. Catherine breached the distance between them in a few strides, wondering what on earth was going on. She had never seen him like this. Not being a woman known for compassion or sympathy, she felt it acutely in her chest, worried that something was terribly wrong to get him so distraught. "What is it?" All thoughts of anything entertaining had slipped away from her mind. She just wanted to know what was going on and if there was anything she could do to make him feel better, but she felt, most likely not... |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| John Dudley | Nov 15 2010, 10:30 PM Post #3 |
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That voice, that dear, sweet, melodious voice of his most beloved wife pulled John from his quagmire of thought. He looked up, his black hair ruffled and sticking up in odd places. A hand went up to his face to ensure that there was no stubble there (if the Privy Council had been called earlier in the morning, he might have forgotten to shave, and Catherine couldn't have that). "Hello, my dear." He said as warmly as possibly, but his voice still had an empty ring to it. As Catherine crossed to his desk in a rustle of her gown, he felt his stomach drop. He loved her so much. She was full of such life, such expression in a court where women were muted. What if the war did cause her distress? Whether he lived or no, he couldn't stand the thought. At his wife's question, John sat back in his chair, a hand raising to his mouth and he lightly bit his thumb. He would tell her, either now or later when they were settling down to sleep. He couldn't have her worry between now and then, so he sighed and his hand returned to his lap. "I just came from the Privy Council. War is almost a certainty." The Earl of Warwick swallowed and looked to his lap. He laughed lightly, suddenly wondering how much fun William would make of him if he were to hear the words coming out of his mouth. Blue eyes flicked up to the face of his wife. "I'm not shy about defending England, and protecting you. Not from anyone." He stated, his right forefinger reaching to touch the wedding ring upon his hand. "I'm worried, though. I'm worried about not coming back. Or coming back and it's too late... one way or another." John cleared his throat and he sighed. "I don't understand why this had to happen at Christmas..." |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Nov 15 2010, 10:58 PM Post #4 |
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vérité sans peur
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As soon as he mentioned what it was burdening him--the prospect of war on the horizon--Catherine let out a little humming noise of irritation, her shoulders slumping for a moment before she straightened herself, frowning thoughtfully, wishing something would come to her head. Something to say. Anything to say. But she realized there really was nothing she could say or do to fix this, or to at least comfort him. It bothered her. For once in her life, she found herself in a position of truly worrying about someone else's well-being, and helpless at that: unable to do anything. That, she thought, was surely an example of love, for someone who worried a bit too much that his affections for her were not returned in kind. Perhaps they were, but differently; for she truly was worried for him, upset she could do nothing for him. "With France?" she asked, lips pursing, having heard of such things. But why would the Privy Council be speaking of this now? Was this war going to happen soon, is that why the men were speaking of it? Glad she was no man, for Catherine would not relish going to war, even if it were against England's oldest enemy. "Too late...for what? Do you think they shall invade?" Knowing little of such things, she was just guessing at his concerns, wondering why he would think that. To her, England was all that was good. The French were horrid louts who had constantly been a thorn in the side of England. It was all very black and white in her world. Again there was hesitation in her gait. Catherine wanted to get closer, but she wasn't sure how. There was no other chair for her to sit to talk to him, but she didn't want to stand here like a child being lectured in front of his desk. "You don't need to protect me," she said lightly, humor in her voice, though she knew as soon as it was out it would fall flat. "The French couldn't get to London. Could they? I think not." English soldiers were surely braver than French soldiers. "But it is your duty, if it does happen..." For someone so stuck on doing one's duty, Catherine didn't like the idea of seeing him off to war whenever it would happen. Not if, but when, it seemed. The expression on his face anguished her, it was enough to bring her to kneel down beside him, hands on his arms, looking down at them, a frown on her lips. "You shouldn't worry so much about this now," Catherine said, trying to encourage him, having a feeling it wouldn't work at all. Perhaps her news would make things better. She was not sure how to bring that in, not when he was in such a mood. "If war does happen surely it will not be soon." She paused, looking up into his face, her own expression somber. "Don't dwell on it. It will only make things worse." |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| John Dudley | Nov 15 2010, 11:23 PM Post #5 |
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The sound Catherine made caused John to wonder for a moment if he upset her -- But then he looked into her beautiful face and could not see anything other concern there (Or at least he thought it was concern). He offered a weak smile to his wife -- She was so lovely, so precious. A lump began to formed in his throat and he tried to swallow it down. Months ago, if William or his mother or anyone had told him that he would be resolved to a quivering mess of a man over a woman, he would have laughed. And here he was, terrified by things that could happen because of Catherine. "With France." John confirmed, nodding his head. "It is ample time they were put in their place. With the death of His Grace the Duke of Norfolk's brother, and countless others... I agree that we cannot stand idly by as Englishmen are killed." The French were lower than the scum of the Earth for the way they had defiled English ships and good English men. Whatever the war brought to them was overdue. "I do need to protect you." John insisted, his wandering eyes focusing back onto Catherine. "I need to protect you and others so that the French can never touch you. And they are brazen, I -- I..." John sighed, placing his hands together and resting them upon his lips. His eyes squeezed shut and he breathed in deeply. "Part of me doubts that the French would ever taint our soil, but I know that I have a responsibility to make sure that doesn't happen. But part of me is also terrified that they shall sneak in behind us, take London, and I'll return to find --" His voice snapped and broke and he swallowed hard, that lump thick in his throat. John had to swallow several times to rid himself of it. "And I don't want to leave you a widow.." His hands lowered and eyes opened as he looked to Catherine. "I don't want to leave you period, but I know I must to do my duty as a husband and an Englishman." Her words were soothing, even though John's stomach still broiled with turmoil and worry. He wondered if he should divulge as many details as he was going to with Catherine, but his wife was no spy! She was his wife -- she would find out one way or another. "The word is that war would start in the Spring." He sighed. "While it is months away, it seems only days." Husband reached up to grasp his wife's hands upon his arm. Her touch was comforting, if only John could forever be touched by his wife. "You are right, I shouldn't dwell on it -- But leaving you, not knowing if I shall come back -- It is too heavy a burden upon my mind to not be given its due attention." His fingers clutched at his wife's hands and another great sigh escaped John's mouth. A great burning was within his breast and his mind, and neither sensation was pleasant. |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Nov 16 2010, 12:04 AM Post #6 |
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vérité sans peur
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"Don't worry yourself so much." Catherine felt that it was the only thing that bore repeating. It was the only thing she could say as he went on and on about his fears--quite unfounded and ridiculous, in her mind, but for once she wouldn't actually say it. "It is a long way away, yet, nothing to worry about, especially so much..." She trailed off, not knowing what to really say to him. Spring, hm. Catherine nodded solemnly when he told her when this supposed war would happen. "Your responsibility is to England first, not me," she continued, knowing he probably wouldn't agree, but it was how she saw things. One's duty was firstly to one's country. "Though when you do go to France, you must come back safely to me." Thinking of him having to leave, maybe never to see him again, was firmly pushed out of her mind. If she thought about it then she too would be worried to death and that would do neither of them any good. She had to be the level-headed one here. At least she fancied herself rather good at it. She opened her mouth to add something else, wanting to tell him, but Catherine found she had no words to actually say it. Telling him meant, well, what she really did not want was true. But it would make him happy, wouldn't it? Especially when he was so worried. Absently she caressed his arm, looking down at the lap of her dark gown, considering the many ways she could tell him she was fairly sure--horror of horrors, in her eyes--she would be languishing in childbed in seven or so months. "I do have...news for you..." She stumbled over the words, wondering how on earth she would actually get this news of hers out if she could barely speak of it. "I am sure it will make you happy," she added, awkwardly. Exhaling a breath, she thought maybe it would be best to just blurt it out, if she could with the anxious hesitation written all over her face. "I think--" Oh, why can't you just say it? It took her long enough to realize it, too long, but she had little education in these things. Embarrassment did her no good, no good at all. "I think I am with child." |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| John Dudley | Nov 16 2010, 12:18 AM Post #7 |
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His blue eyes flickered back to her face as she impressed upon him not to worry so. It was easier said than done. And while it may seem like a long way to others, John knew it wasn't. It was at the very least three months. Three months! That had been the entire time in which he and Catherine had been man and wife! The months had flown by for John, and he was enjoying him. He could only think of dreading something and the time flying by. He wished he could just bury his head into her arms. "It is to you, it has become to you." He murmured. John was quite earnest; he felt that Catherine came first, then England and His Majesty. She was the only one who made him feel whole, nothing had ever done so. Grasping her hands tighter with his lone hand, he looked up at her and sincerely intoned, "I will do everything I can to ensure that I do, Catherine." He did not want to leave her a widow. If anything, years from now he wished that she would be the first to depart this mortal realm so that she needn't suffer loneliness or sadness on his part. Another sigh was heaved, and John's eyes stared at the sleeve of Catherine's right arm. At her informing him that she had news, his head jerked back up with interest. If it weren't for her saying that she thought it would make him happy, John would have thought Andrew did something dastardly by the way she halted and hesitated in speaking. But then finally, finally she said it, and John's lips parted and his eyes opened wide. With child? With child? He felt his heart thunder against his sternum and he grew short of breath. He and Catherine, they would be father and mother? He was going to be a father? John stood up so suddenly that his chair pitched backward behind him, but he didn't care. "I -- We -- Oh, Catherine!" John exclaimed, his eyes suddenly becoming wet. He flung his arms around his wife and buried his face in her neck. Oh, his dear precious wife, and now carrying their own precious child. Oh, and John had thought she had completed her before! His previous thoughts were dashed to pieces and blown to the wind as he rocked her slightly in his arms. John Dudley was going to be a father. "Oh you blessed wonderful woman!" John exclaimed, pulling away from his wife and looking down at her stomach. "How long will we have to wait? Do you know? Oh!" He fell to his knees before his wife, his arms sliding down to wrap around her waist. John pressed an ear to her stomach, though he didn't know if anything would come from it. "Oh, my dear Catherine!" He looked back up to her, the widest of grins upon his face. "I am so happy, I do not think the word does it justice! We're going to be a mother and father!" |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Nov 16 2010, 10:12 PM Post #8 |
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vérité sans peur
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If Catherine had to be truthful, she was not surprised in any way, shape, or form by John's reaction. On the other hand, it shocked her just a little, that he would be that happy. From what she understood, men took little interest in such things, except their minor part. It was the woman who carried the child, who dealt with the horrors of confinement and childbed, and the aftermath that could and often did end in death--of the mother, of the child, of both. The reasoning for her rather dour view of such things was seeing the sorrow her mother went through after losing her son, born still a few years after Catherine's birth, and then the miscarriages she suffered... No, being with child was not a happy event in her mind. It was a frightening one. She had to remind herself that giving out the news had done what she hoped: it cheered him up from looking so sad, so grieved about what was to come, making him fairly ecstatic instead. No, certainly ecstatic, to the point of maybe madness, Catherine considered. It was sweet he was so concerned for her, and so happy about it, but-- Oh, don't scold him for being so happy! she told herself. Patience was no particular virtue she had, especially with what she considered foolish behavior, but she had to remind herself how lucky she was that she had a husband concerned for her and happy for her condition when most men probably wouldn't even bat an eyelash or care very much. Looking down at him as if he perhaps grew another head, Catherine forced herself to smile at his exuberance. The smile itself was genuine yet not reaching her eyes, her gaze hinting at the worries eating away at her, having told him this news that made him happy yet made her simply afraid. "Oh, stop," she chastised gently, touching his hair fondly. "I-- I don't know when." Biting her lower lip, she tried not to let out a giggle of embarrassment. She knew so little of such things. Not having such basic knowledge it seemed she should have had was worrisome. "I am glad I can make you so happy..." Reaching behind her, she tried to peel his hands away from her so he did not have to grovel before her, though Catherine knew he probably wanted to anyhow. "If you remember to always call me blessed and wonderful," she said with a short laugh, "then I will be happy." Only a woman could give a man his children; better that he thanks her and is happy about it rather than ignores her. She was not going to share her fears with him, not when he had been so disturbed by news of war, not when she had freed him of it by telling him her news. |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| John Dudley | Nov 18 2010, 08:19 AM Post #9 |
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There had been so many days before this one that John thought there was no way he could be happier or love Catherine anymore. It seemed an insurmountable feat. Catherine did that to him -- she filled his heart and soul with so much love and happiness that he felt prone to burst. But now, now that she was carrying his child, their child, he found himself quite overwhelmed with so much happiness and love that his eyes did not dry. He leaned forward and planted a kiss upon her stomach, and would have done so even if they were in public. He and Catherine were going to have a family of their own! "How can I stop?" John asked, peering up at his wife. "Oh, you have! You have... Oh my dear..." He slumped against her stomach again, burying his face into it. Inside there was a baby... Perhaps a teeny tiny one that would grow and... Oh John couldn't wait! He was going to be a father! John let his wife take his hands from her, but he clutched her own with his, and rose. "You have always and will always be blessed and wonderful." He said with a smile. He drew their hands to his breast and leaned in to kiss her with as much feeling as he could muster. His eyes closed, and the Earl of Warwick's mind buzzed with happiness. Catherine was going to be a mother, he was going to be a father, and he was so happy! He was certain his mother would be overjoyed, and his sister -- He didn't much care for letting Andrew know, and he would let Catherine decide when to tell them all! In his excitement, he did not notice any reluctance or sadness or anything else from his wife. "Should we pick names? Should we celebrate? Should we have my mother come? Oh, I am so excited -- I am so very happy!" John was practically shouting in his ecstatic furor. "Catherine -- Catherine, we -- Oh dear me, I AM SO EXCITED!" John bounced up and down, a large smile plastered on his face and his eyes rolling into the back of his head in ecstasy. John leaned forward and kissed his wife again, releasing her hands to cup her face. |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Nov 18 2010, 11:32 PM Post #10 |
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vérité sans peur
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Funny that he was so overjoyed while she was not exactly looking forward to the time ahead. Typical, considering it was not man who carried the child and had to worry about childbirth and all the problems therein: all the things Catherine was deathly afraid of, rightly so. She could understand his happiness, but she could not reflect it. Maybe at some point she would be able to smile about it and be happy, but the only thing she could think of were all her worries, and the fact that her position in life left her nothing more than a vessel to have children; she could not even be a mother, as a mother ought to be, thinking on how she would surely have to send the child away to be raised by other people. The thought made her want to cry. She had to ignore it. If she started crying (and not out of happiness), he would wonder what was wrong. He had enough worries on his heart, she made him happy, she didn't think she should speak of her own qualms regarding such a blessed event. "I... can see that," managed to come from Catherine's lips as she blinked at his reaction, wondering why he was acting like a happy child who had gotten just what he wanted. Well, maybe a pregnant wife was what he wanted, but she'd hoped it would have taken much longer than this. Finding oneself in such a condition only months after one's wedding, well, that wasn't what she had expected. The idea of having a child seemed so frightening, after watching Queen Margaret die of childbed fever... Would the same happen to her? No. God would watch over her and take care of her. Wouldn't He? She couldn't keep the distress from his face, such a contrast to the joy in his. Shaking her head, as if to dissolve all those memories, Catherine forced a weak smile. "I don't see why your mother ought to come. For what? Unless it was for Christmas. And--" She paused. "I do not want to tell anyone else. Not just yet. Though Her Majesty knows and is not best pleased..." Trailing off, she decided to say nothing more than that. It was far more important for Francesca to provide the country with a Prince of Wales than it was for a mere countess to provide an heir for her husband's--and her own--titles. When he kissed her, that shut her up, but only for a few moments. Catherine wasn't even thinking about it, nor did she kiss him back. She just stood there, still shellshocked and stunned from his behavior as well as just knowing how everything was going to change. She had only realized her condition a few days earlier, sitting on the precious news until she knew how to best approach it with the two people in the world who did need to know. No other busybodies at court needed to be aware of it. "I am not happy," she blurted out, looking up at him, trying not to frown. "I am afraid." |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| John Dudley | Nov 22 2010, 11:23 AM Post #11 |
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John couldn't help but laugh even more at Catherine's reaction to his exuberance. How could he be anything but exuberant? He and the woman he loved were going to start a family; he was going to be a father! And he would make sure that he was a better father than his own had ever been. His children would be happy, their father would play with them, and they would know him more than just by his title of 'father.' And without John's dearest, sweetest Catherine, none of this would have been possible. Indeed, if he had never met her those many months ago, he would still be dismally complacent and think himself happy. "I -- Well, I don't rightly know." John responded with a laugh about the question of his mother coming. "She's been pregnant, I suppose she could... give advice or something. I don't know!" He laughed again, filled with such joy. His eyes widened slightly learning that the Queen knew before he, and another laugh escaped his lips. "She's surely just worried that her Lady of the Privy Chamber will be meanwhile tending to other, more important responsibilities." He put his arms around his wife once again and squeezed. "Oh, my wife!" But then, like a silent thunderclap, there was a change in Catherine's countenance. John's brow furrowed and his hands sought her own out to cradle them as she admitted that she was afraid. The laughter and the smile was gone -- And John felt like a fool for being so happy. His immediate thoughts as to why his wife was afraid were to the Late Queen Margaret, dead from childbirth. John's mother was one of the lucky few who had not only had survived, but her children did so as well. He swallowed hard and squeezed her hands. "I want to say that you shouldn't be afraid Catherine." He said, but now that she spoke her own fear, he couldn't help but feel his own stomach quiver. "But you and I know well enough that we must leave this in God's able hands. Surely he will know what to do, and surely we will have our child, and child and mother surely should be healthy and happy. Do you not think so?" He wanted to be supportive without coming off as foolish (as he was sure he often did), but Catherine's fear certainly had merit to it. |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Nov 22 2010, 06:34 PM Post #12 |
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vérité sans peur
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Catherine wanted to say something about Her Majesty being upset simply because it was not Her Majesty in the same position she was in, but she managed to bite her tongue, too worried what he would say about her fears. When he embraced her again she just stood there as if she were carved of stone, her head drooping slightly as her eyes examined the hem of her gown and the floor. "I am not very good at leaving things for God to take care of," she admitted with a brittle laugh. Catherine often wondered if God even cared much about His children stumbling about in the darkness of sin. It seemed He just left them there, unable to fend for themselves, hoping for His intercession one of these days. She found herself often thinking she was better left on her own, anyway. She liked to control her own life; giving everything up to God was surrendering control. Waiting for things to happen because it was God's time was not her way of doing things, though sometimes God pleasantly surprised her. "But-- I don't think He cares much. Not this. If He did, then, no women would die, would they? But we women suffer because of our sin." She could not keep thinking and worrying that one day she would end up like poor Madge, and then, the guilt started to sink in. She was ruining this for him, wasn't she? What a horrid wife she was. "I will just pray and pray and pray," Catherine said with a hint of finality to her voice, feeling horrible she surely was making her poor husband worry too. If God surely loved her as He supposedly cared for all His children, then, He would listen to her prayers. "It is all I can do. Pray I shall be rid of this worry, that He will take care of me." Shaking her head, she mumbled, "I'm sorry, I know I have ruined your happiness thanks to my fears..." Trailing off, Catherine had nothing more to say on the matter, forcing herself to shut her mouth about that topic now and forever. The way his face had fallen when she started speaking of it, it was enough guilt to deal with at one moment. "Were I not here with the queen I would like to go home." Home certainly was not Hampton Court. She laughed again, shaking her head, emotions she hadn't really ever felt before welling up inside her. She felt her eyes water. "I wish my mother was here to comfort and help me." Confessing a weakness to John was strange to her, as she tried to seem so tough and unbending to everyone; but she was human just like everyone else. |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| John Dudley | Nov 22 2010, 08:52 PM Post #13 |
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John wished he could comfort his wife, but he didn't know how. Though they had only been married a number of months, he was sure that he could say whatever he wished, but none of it would stick unless Catherine wanted it to. His brow wrinkled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corner in concern. What could he do but love her and be there to support her? Fear was the responsibility of the bearer, he could only be there. His lips parted in a look of disbelief as Catherine spoke of such things. An uncaring God! Certainly not! "Everyone has their time, Catherine. Some people are too good for this world, they must be. That includes the dear mothers who do not stay, I suppose." John Dudley was not a religious man, but he thought he knew some things. And just like that, she seemed to pull away. John wasn't convinced. He placed his hands upon the sides of her shoulders -- not stopping her, not pulling her, just placing his hands there so she knew that her husband was there. "No, no." He replied to her apologies. "Catherine, we must know each others fears. I would be a bad husband if you did not tell me, and if I did not partake of your fears as well." John leaned forward and kissed her upon the head gently. "Is there no way Her Majesty would let you go to Warwickshire? With me, until... whatever happens happens?" John pulled away to look at her, his eyes sad. How he wished that her mother could be here as well (though part of him regarded his mother-in-law with great fear and trepidation). Anything to make his Catherine feel better. He wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her forehead again. "Is there anything I could do, my dear? I know I shan't replace your mother, I never could, but I so fervently wish I could do something, anything for you." |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Nov 23 2010, 02:35 PM Post #14 |
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vérité sans peur
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Folded in his arms, Catherine hadn't realized how much she needed some simple affection, words that meant nothing but still meant the world for they at least comforted her when she was in such an unfamiliar state. He had held her plenty of times, but never when she was near to crying, for she had never indulged in that before. Tears were a luxury, something not to be shown to anyone at court, for what would they say if they saw her crying? When her mother died, she had wept, broken-hearted, crying on her bed for what seemed like hours. Now, she was trying to make sure John didn't truly see how upset she was, pressing her face into his warm doublet, a few sniffles coming out here and there, hiding the tears that came unchecked. "I'm sorry," she murmured, not entirely sure for what: for worrying him, for worrying herself, for crying for absolutely no reason. Catherine knew there was a reason--her fear--and she hated crying because of stupid things like that, when she fancied herself so strong, so unafraid, but no, she was just like anyone else. It was the first thing she said after moments of silence as he spoke, not responding much to his comforting words. She pulled away, turning her face from him so he wouldn't see her tears, wiping her hands at her eyes desperately. Clearing her throat, failing in the endeavor to stop crying because she just couldn't, Catherine mumbled, "I cannot leave. I have a duty to Her Majesty to be here." His dreary whatever happens, happens struck her as rather morbid, but her thoughts were already thus. It just made them worse. What if she was among the many women taken during the travails of childbirth? The mere thought of it made her shudder visibly. "I shall have to stop thinking of it," she finished, turning to him with red eyes, finally having conquered the tears, "lest I walk about crying all the time." |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| John Dudley | Nov 23 2010, 04:16 PM Post #15 |
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How John's heart wrenched to hold Catherine in his arms as she was so upset. He made sure his arms were tight and supporting her, but not with a smothering tightness that would allow her discomfort. He hadn't even thought of the fears she had when she told him the happiest of new -- How could he immediately think that he would lose his most beloved wife in childbirth? Or the child? Yes, it did happen, but John wouldn't have thought of such a thing. Now his stomach clenched in fear. If such a thing happened, he may go mad with grief. Any future without Catherine would not be a future -- it was be a dismal fate not worth going through. "Do not be sorry, no, no..." John whispered, rocking her slightly side to side. "I'm sure I don't understand entirely, but I think I can think how it must feel. My precious Catherine." He rested his chin upon her head and sighed softly. What would he do without her? He couldn't live without her, he couldn't! As she turned away from him, her hands wiping at her face, John wanted to do it for her. He raised a trembling hand and caught a tear with his thumb before it ran down her cheek. "Do you think that not even a beseeching husband could change Her Majesty?" He asked gently. If John and Catherine only had a set amount of time together, he didn't want the trifles of court interfering with it. Part of the Earl of Warwick told the man he was being paranoid, but fear was an overwhelming force. He almost felt sick. John was lost for words. He didn't know what to say. "I feel so useless to you. I may say that it won't happen, that it could never happen, but that is purely me being someone inexperienced in such things, and I -- I never would want to lose you, Catherine. I only want you to be happy, and I don't know how I can make you happy when such a thing could happen." He was not complaining; he wanted Catherine to know he wished to do so many things that he simply could not. "Whatever happens, we'll go through it together." He reached for her hand and kissed it before cupping it between both his hands. "Even though I will be a poor companion in doing so." |
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[align=center]John is currently in 6 threads! He can have 1-2 more! App! | Plot![/align]John Dudley: Minor League Whore *BEARDY BEARDS* | |
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6:36 AM Jul 11