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for this is gonna hurt like hell; tag: JDuds, Judith, Liz, Renna (?)
Topic Started: Jan 10 2011, 01:26 AM (183 Views)
Catherine Willoughby
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vérité sans peur
January 15, 1512

Making their way back to court from the horrific example Anne Askew had been, burning for heresy, Catherine had realized that something was wrong. Her back ached. Was it for standing, holding back tears that made her head pound, or was it something else? She did not think much on it, vision blurred from the tears that gathered as she watched her friend go up in flames, the smoke and smell of burned flesh stinging her eyes even though they were closed tight against the horrific vision that traumatized her mind. When it was all over, she wanted nothing to do but go back to her apartments at court, curl up in bed, and cry. She had cried more in these last few days than she probably ever had in her life. The only thing she didn't know was that later, there would be more to weep about.

When the barge that took them from Smithfield to Hampton Court arrived, Catherine was silent. She was quiet all the way to court, looking down in her lap, wrapped in her heavy cloak to ward off the cold on the river. She did not want to say anything, her mind so taken with the horrors she had just witnessed, realizing that now she would never be able to speak to Anne again. Never would they sit together with Anne laughingly trying to teach her German, or simply being there to give advice about a number of things. Memories flooded her mind, when Madge was alive, how the three of them would talk, Anne acting like a mother to both of them.

She was so lost in thought that when the barge arrived at Hampton Court, Catherine didn't notice. Clinging onto John's arm, walking unaware of much of anything including the presence of her cousin Judith and friend Elizabeth Grey who always seemed to cheer her with morbid humor, she allowed herself to be led to their apartments, still not speaking a word, not even seeing what was before her. Her mind's eye was occupied with memories.

The moment she stepped into the main chamber of their apartments, Catherine felt ill. All she wanted to do was crawl in bed, sleep, cry, whatever it was she could do to get rid of these sorrowful feelings weighing down her heart. She vaguely noticed the pain she felt before, something stronger, but again she disregarded it. Without a word to her husband, or her cousin who had followed, she went into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

The gown she wore would be burned. Forever it would be tainted with memories of this horrific morning. The cloak was thrown on a chair, forgotten. In a frenzy Catherine pulled at the ties at the back of her bodice, throwing the garments one by one on the floor, never again wanting to see the plain gown of crimson velvet. In her struggle to remove her clothing without the help of a maid, she realized finally something was very wrong. Not only was there pain in her back, but in her belly. Her immediate thought was, It's the baby.

Only wearing her white linen chemise, Catherine settled down on the bed, staring at the wall before her, a hand settling on her belly as if she could find out what was going on inside her simply by touch. Dropping her head, listening to the low murmur outside the silence of her bedchamber, she saw something that terrified her. "Oh, God," she whispered as her eyes settled on the bright red that stained the crisp linen.

Yes, something was very wrong.

"Jo--" She almost said her husband's name, but no, he could not see her like this. Not at all. "Judith!" Calling for her cousin seemed a sensible thing to do, the more panic set in and logical thinking went out the window. Catherine did not want to call for John. She did not want to worry him, and besides, if this was something as bad as she was thinking... She tried to keep the dread from her voice, falling silent for a few moments when the door creaked open. "Please get the midwife." Her gaze was pleading as she looked at her cousin standing in the doorway. "Please! Now! Go!"

(So, whoever wants to react to this, go ahead; then I can post after all the horrible stuff happens...)
[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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Judith Willoughby
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The events of the day were certainly weighing heavily on Judith's mind as they made their way back to court. Judith could only imagine how everything had effected Catherine this day. Judith had never been close to Anne. She hadn't known her well at all. But Catherine had. Catherine had spent a lot of time talking and knowing the woman as far as Judith knew. She would never question her cousin on it. She would never again ask her about Anne for she knew that the memories surrounding her were too painful. Asking would simply be cruel of her.

But Judith's concern for Catherine was nearly tangible. Her cousin did not speak. She did not truly look at anyone. All she seemed to do was cling to her husband. Judith was quite proud of John Dudley in the days that had followed their approach to the Tower of London where she herself had brought him in to see Catherine. He seemed to understand now that Catherine needed him to be strong throughout the duration of these trying times. She was, most certainly, a strong woman. But in moments like these when the very friends she knew and trusted were slipping from her grasp, she needed him.

As the barge stopped at Hampton Court and Catherine stepped off of it as if she were some sort of mechanical device, Judith exchanged a worried glance with Elizabeth Grey. Truthfully, Judith was concerned about both women to some extent, though Elizabeth had seemed resigned to Anne's fate and even now exuded only strength and determination. She was glad to have her there. Though Judith wasn't extremely well acquainted with Elizabeth at this point, she knew her well enough thanks to her cousin's closeness with her.

Catherine made her way to her rooms with her entourage of concerned souls. Judith hung back in the main chambers with Elizabeth as Catherine locked herself in her bed chambers. She sighed and turned towards the fire in the main room, stoking it up and poking at it to warm the room further. There was a chill that sat heavily on her shoulders that she was fairly certain the rest of her company could surly feel.

She was just turning away from the fire when her cousin's call for her sounded. Judith twisted her hands in her skirts a moment, a determined look on her face, though she was deathly frightened of her cousin's tone. She crossed the room hurriedly and opened the door. The sight that greeted her instantly brought tears to her eyes. The baby... Catherine's child. Without even thinking about it, Judith crossed herself. Catherine told her to fetch the midwife and before she even managed to tell her to hurry, Judith was running.

Propriety did not matter. She could not trust this to a serving girl who would doddle along. Judith Willoughby full on ran from the room in search of the midwife but all in the room would surely know.
Lady Catherine Dudley had lost the child.
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Elizabeth Grey
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Elizabeth Grey knew that she wasn’t an emotional person, but it had surprised even her just how unemotional she had been about Anne Askew’s execution by fire. It hadn’t been pleasant by any means and she would prefer not to have to witness such a thing ever again, but she hardly felt what her closest friend felt. It solaced her in the fact that Anne and Catherine were very close, whereas she tended to see Anne as a risk taking woman who could bring them all down if she was not careful. And she almost did. Still, she did feel pity for the woman, God rest her soul. No person alive deserved such a fate when it came to religion. To Elizabeth, it seemed the opposite of what Christ had preached. That, however, did not mattered. Religion was intertwined so fully with politics that it could never be undone. Which is why she had sat in the tower with her friends that had turned against the Duke of Norfolk. Religion had nothing to do with it. Her new alliance, however, did weigh on her. What would Catherine think? Would William approve? It all nearly consumed her thoughts as the barge traveled back to their home.

Elizabeth really had no one she’d rather spend these moments with than Catherine and Judith, however. She did not wish to go to her rooms and sit there alone, not at a time like this. Catherine understood. Judith understood more than most. And really, she just wanted to be around them so as not to be alone. Upon arriving in the Dudley’s rooms, Catherine had seemed to want to be alone. For this, she could not blame the woman. So Judith and Elizabeth sat conversing with each other… right up until they heard Catherine call out to Judith. Immediately, Elizabeth’s heart started to race. It was rare to hear Catherine in such a panic. So very rare. The concern she felt in those moments was very much echoed in Judith’s face and they both raced to the woman’s bedchambers.

The sight that befell them was one that instantly made Elizabeth heart nearly rise up out of her chest. “Oh my god. Catherine…” Seeing such a woman in such a state brought instant fear to her. She told Judith to find the midwife. Her role, she knew, was at her friend’s side. Instantly, she was there. Elizabeth hadn’t even felt herself get there. ”Lie back, Catherine. Judith will get the midwife,” she said calmly, adjusting her so that she would lay back into the bed. Truthfully, she had no idea what to do. This was so beyond her realm of understanding and yet, she had to remain calm. Her hand moved up and brushed the hair away from her forehead tenderly. “And she will know what to do.” Oh her dearest Catherine, she thought to herself as she looked upon the pained woman’s face. Elizabeth was not one to touch, but she took her hand in hers and kissed it lightly… then placed it gently onto the bed, smoothing her hand over it once. She took a breath, which shook in her lungs, and she tried to recall a prayer. A prayer she would say in English. ” O Almighty God, Divine Healer, grant us peace of mind and perfect trust in You in our hour of distress. Give us control over our fears, for you are with us… “

It was strange, how she fell into such tradition when in such times. But it was all she knew and her upbringing simply could not be undone. She paused mid-prayer though. “Catherine. I’m here. And I will not leave your side. Not for anything in this world.” She made sure she had caught Catherine’s gaze as she spoke, for what she said was more true than she could say. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Could their lives truly have tumbled into chaos so quickly? It was one thing, right after another. And she would be the strong one, as she always was.
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John Dudley
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The smell of burning flesh was still in John's nostrils. It hung around his clothes, his hair. The charred and bitter smell would stay in John's mind forever, as would this day. The only thing that made this day redeemable at all was that Catherine was going to get to come home. Besides that, this was a cursed and wretched day if John ever saw one. And yet he did his best to bear the brunt of it with a stoic face. He was there for Catherine and to be strong when she could be weak. He could not let anything slip to show weakness, for if he did so, that would betray Catherine and show the entire world just how poor a husband he was.

Catherine leaned heavily upon John's arm once they stepped off the barge, delivering them and Judith and Lady Grey home to Hampton Court once more. John reached over to put a hand upon those circled around his arm, and he squeezed. Other than that show of affection, John stared straight ahead as he and the three ladies wound back to his and Catherine's apartments. His eyes were cased forward, his mouth closed sternly so no one would think to question him or the ladies he was with. The entire court knew what happened, no gossiping tongue need to lick at their boots for more.

Upon arrival at the safe haven that was their apartments, Catherine released John's arm and walked silently to their bedroom, closing the door behind her. John stared after her, the silence that surrounded him ringing in his ears. He could not imagine what was going through Catherine's head. To see one's friend burned alive was a horror beyond measure, and she had obviously been close to Anne Askew. Another waft of charred flesh filled John's nostrils, and a hand reached up to rub at the corner of his eyes. Was this day ever going to end?

Lady Grey and Catherine chatted lightly, while John stood there like a lump. He would not intrude upon Catherine if she wished to be alone -- but perhaps he should. He couldn't just leave Judith and Lady Grey out here, though. And so he stood, staring at one of their rugs. John couldn't but think that it was quite ugly.

And then, the voice of his wife called out from their rooms, and John's head snapped up so quickly it cracked. Ignoring the discomfort, he hovered near the door, for Judith was the one called for, not he. Did he hear Catherine say something about a midwife? It felt like a chunk of ice had suddenly dropped in his stomach, and as fast as Judith had entered, she left, running as if the world was ending. Lady Grey then went in after Judith, and John continued to hover at the door.

Oh, to Hell with this! John followed Lady Grey in, and at the sight of blood upon Catherine's chemise, John couldn't breathe. He thought for a moment that he shouldn't be in here, this was woman's work, but the midwife could throw him out when she came! John crossed to Catherine in three brisk strides, Lady Grey was already comforting her, and all John could think was to drop to his knees next to the bed, his hand grasping for hers. "It will be alright." John murmured. With a squeeze of her hand, John said nothing more, for he was trying to swallow the panic rising in his throat. Despite how terrified he was, he had to continue to be strong for Catherine, right until the moment he was booted from his wife's side by the midwife.
[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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Catherine Willoughby
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vérité sans peur
Thank God Judith rushed into action, for Catherine had no capacity to do anything but sit in dumb horror. She couldn't even think. She couldn't pray. She couldn't do much of anything except follow directions from Elizabeth, noting somewhere her friend's sweet tenderness, wondering where it came from. Truth be told she wanted everyone to leave her alone, so she could face the pain alone; but she knew, somewhere in her mind, that she needed them there. She could not be alone.

The pain was excruciating, worse than anything she had ever felt in her life before. Elizabeth's confident murmur of prayer did not comfort her. John's presence made her feel worse, even guilty; she couldn't look at him, she had failed him so completely, she just couldn't. Everything was a blur of noise and faces once the midwife arrived at a run, following Judith. She did not know what was going on, except the dread truth that she would have to go through the pain of labor without reward. The baby was gone; there was no use in praying for God to spare the innocent child. He was punishing the mother for some sin, that much was certain, but as her friends gathered around her to support her through this horrific ordeal, she could not think of what it was. All she could realize was pain.

[align=center]****[/align]

After what seemed like a lifetime, though it had been merely hours, Catherine lay curled up in the big bed, tears settling in her eyes yet not falling as she stared at the wall like a woman blind. Why did God punish her so? What had she done that was so sinful that He took her baby away? She had never known such pain, clenching her teeth hard to prevent any cry of anguish escaping her lips, though she knew she had. A knife in the belly, twisted round and round: that's what it felt like and it had gone on for hours. Now that it was all over, her stained chemise burning to ash in the fireplace, she was left to wonder why it had happened. Was it Him punishing her for what she had done that led her to the Tower? Her mind roiled with these questions, trying to grapple with the enormity of what had happened this day: not only the death of Anne, but the death of her baby, too.

She spoke no words to those crowded about the bed, ignoring them completely in favor of staying well within her head, not voicing these questions in fear she would completely break down. They had, God bless them, stayed with her the whole time; Catherine felt they did not need more trauma to their day. She would only inconvenience them further. A few tears dribbled down past her nose. Valiantly she tried to stop it, but gave up. Crying had become a hobby these last few days. She didn't even know what she was crying for. Anne? Herself? Her poor baby, who John had wanted so badly? Oh, God, she couldn't even think about her husband. Surely, he would hate her. Surely, he would blame her. She was a horrible wife, not able to do the one thing she had to. Her only duty was to give him his children. She had failed in that, because God wanted to teach her a lesson about His power. How surely He had abandoned her just as she had thought He had made her strong. This day, she was quite sure she lost her faith, the one thing that she had always held onto, the one thing she had been so confident in.

Trembling breaths escaped her lips as she cried silently, throat raw from the cries of pain even self-contained Catherine could not have stopped. There was only thing she could keep thinking of: the poor baby, born still, nothing she wanted to see for she feared if she did she would lose all control she had over herself. She wanted so desperately to cling at the pillow, to cling at someone, to sob without ceasing and ask why it had happened thus, what had she done, to tell John she was so sorry this had happened, so sorry she was such a poor wife who could not do her duty to him, to ask why it seemed everything was unraveling around her and there was no way to capture it and put everything back to rights.

When these questions all settled in her mind, she pressed her face into the pillow, her heart-breaking sobs muffled. Catherine could not keep it to herself anymore.
[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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