15th of March 1533 - Palace of Beaulieu

"The Queen has announced that she is with child again," George mused reading the letter that had arrived that morning, he had to admit that he had suspected as much when he had last seen his sister but the news was most welcome. 

There was no denying that Anne's pregnancy would bring much needed good news to the Royal family after the betrayal of the former Dowager Princess of Wales. 

The woman now secure in a nunnery and George had no doubts that the place had left Katherine would no doubts that this was a punishment; she would never be disturbed nor would they allow her to act out while there. 

It was most relieving to know that there were no further plots against his sister, he was sure that with a second child on the way that she was hopeful that things would remain peaceful for as long as possible. 

"I am sure the King is most pleased," Clarice replied knowing that after the birth of the healthy Prince of Wales had been a blessing and now the news that Anne was with child again would be most welcome. 

A little Duke of York that would secure the line of succession and Anne would never have to worry about her position; she had already proven that she could do it once and she could do it again. 

George hummed in response glad that he had been able to retire to his own estates for a time, his eyes moving from the letter from his father to Contessina. 

His little girl was already toddling around and he could not believe how fast the first year of her life had gone; it seemed like only yesterday that he was holding her in his arms for the very first time. 

"Papa," Contessina squealed being lifted from the floor, a smile on her face when she gazed up at her father who had moved away from his desk and was now focusing all his attention on her. 

There was no denying that George doted upon his daughter and that her gender was in no way a disappointment to him; he had loved her from the moment that she had come into this world and he would do so until he left it many years for now. 

Contessina laughed as George fussed over her, her green eyes reminding George of her mother; she would be a beauty just like Clarice of that George was certain when she was older.

Clarice watched George with Contessina, a fond smile on her lips as she thought about how different her life would have been should she had married another; she found herself content with her life for the first time in a long time. 

With each passing day, Clarice noticed that her feelings for her husband continued to grow and she cared for him; she was sure she could even say that she loved him. 

"I suppose that the Queen isn't the only one with good news," Clarice stated carefully, she had wished to wait awhile but she was certain now and she hoped that her husband would be pleased. 

Her hands moving down the front of her dress to rest on her still flat stomach, she doubted that her babe would be born long after the birth of Anne's child; their situations reversed this time it seemed. 

George looked up from Contessina, his dark eyes searching Clarice's face for any hint of a lie that might be there; however, he could find none and a smile formed on his face. 

The very idea that they should be blessed with another child was thrilling and he made his way across the room to Clarice and kissed her; he was certain that with news of Anne's newest pregnancy that his father would start seeking more Boleyn heirs. 

George pulled back slightly from Clarice, he could not imagine feeling this way about anyone else nor did he feel trapped like he had done with his marriage to Jane Parker. 

It gave him hope that perhaps he would have a marriage like his parents had, one that would grow with them and they would not just tolerate one another. 

"You are certain?" George asked shifting his hold on Contessina, he was thrilled with the very idea that they would have another when he adored their daughter; he cared not if this one was a boy nor another girl. 

Any child that she gave him was a blessing from God and he would love them all the same. 

***

The letter from her father announcing that the Queen was expecting another child lay beside her as she clasped her hands in prayer, she did not understand why the Lord would seek to punish her when she had been a good and loving daughter to her King and Father. 

It had been many months since her marriage to Ippolito and still there was no sign of a pregnancy, she had prayed each day that she might bless her husband with a healthy child. 

And while Ippolito assured her that they were in no such hurry for a child, Mary could not shake the pressure that she felt to give her husband an heir that he would need. 

With Alessandro now ruling Florence, it was imperative that Ippolito had an heir to succeed him and when they moved to Florence then everyone would at least know the succession was secure. 

However, none of that could happen if she proved to be barren and no better than her own mother; she clenched her hands tighter knowing that she could not be like her mother. 

The tears burned her eyes but she refused to let herself cry, maybe this was a test before God to prove that she and her husband were worthy enough to rule Florence. 

She fasted regularly just as her mother had done and instructed her to do; she refused all food except for the holy Eucharist, signifying not only her devotion to God and Jesus, but also demonstrating, to them, the separation of body and spirit. 

Mary could not understand why she was unable to do this one thing, surely God would want to reward her for not going against an anointed King and Queen. 

She had ensured that her brother would be King and she would not rally should anyone ask her to against Alexander; he would be a fine King of that she was already sure. 

The Countess of Salisbury had instructed her in her own family history, not just what her mother had deemed for her to know but about the war which had put her Grandfather on the throne. 

Those lessons had stuck with her, her love for the people of her country would not allow her to act against her brother especially after it was proven that her mother was a traitor. 

In no way did she want to bring about a war that many would still recall, a war that had ripped apart her country for years and had only ended when her Grandfather had invaded and upon taking the throne had married her Grandmother, a York clamant.

"Maria?" Ippolito called making Mary stop what she was doing, a small fond smile coming to her face at her husband's name for her; she had grown rather fond of Ippolito, who was kind to her and treated her with such respect. 

It reminded her at times of how her father had treated her mother while they had thought their marriage was a true one and before her mother's treason was revealed. 

Crossing herself, Mary moved to her feet offering one final look at the cross before she moved to leave the chapel; she would pray every day for a healthy child for her husband, one that he could pass everything onto when the time was right. 

She wanted to give him as many healthy children as possible, there was a lot to divide and one child would have to return to England in time to inherit the titles that she and Ippolito would leave behind in England. 

The Dukedom and her Marquessate would need inheriting and she wanted nothing more than to make sure that they would stay within her and Ippolito's bloodline. 

"There you are, I hear there is news from your father. The Queen is with child again?" Ippolito asked, he had been overseeing the estate when he had been informed of the news and he was surprised that he had not been told by his Maria. 

In the time since their marriage, he had noticed that slowly his wife had become quieter and there were days when he was sure that she did not dine properly; her meals restricted and he worried for her. 

Having been forced to serve the Church when he had been removed from his position in Florence, Ippolito knew how easily it was for people to try and prove their piety. 

He had noticed that Katherine's own behaviour was rather concerning, he had heard often while she was in the Tower that she had refused meals and spent hours praying; even to the point when they started to waste away and made themselves ill. 

Kissing his wife hands, Ippolito refused to allow such a thing to happen to his Maria; he would keep a close eye on her and if things did not improve then he would speak with her on this matter.