A girl she did indeed have. The Duchess of Devonshire rejoiced at the news, and whispered spiteful things to her sister about Anne here and there. Kitty observed her mother in her natural habitat. She was a gossiping queen, a nasty one at that. But still, she could not help but smile as her mother went on, saying this ill thing and that. There was a certain radiant glow to her mother that Kitty had never seen before. 

That glow only increased when Charles wrote to Kitty about Anne's recent downfall.

"Two miscarriages," Kitty reported. "No wonder. I am surprised she is in good health at all. The King clearly gave her no time to recuperate. I may not like Anne as I once did, but I do pity her."

Even her mother nodded sympathetically. As a woman who suffered many miscarriages herself, she felt sorry for Anne.

"It is worse for her, she is a queen and expected to provide his majesty with a son. He believed her capable of doing so."

Kitty stared, "Has father written to you?"

Dark eyes fixed steadily on her weaving needle, her mother remained silent. Kitty watched, knowing her mother's silence was an answer in itself.

"What has he said that Charles has not?"

"Nothing that is of your concern," she replied, her tone sharp and with warning. Her mother often got like this when there was something more, something she wished not to discuss with her daughter just yet.

But with serving a queen, you heard it all. And as days passed and Kitty merged into her duties serving The Holy Roman Emperor's wife, Kitty quickly learned what her mother was hiding.

"It was likely by his orders," whispered a maid. She was quite known for gabbing. Which is why many of the other maid of honors flocked to her and why Kitty chose to sit next to her that morning while they all worked on their needlework. "He wanted his first queen gone to marry this one and now he has gone and framed her for the murder of her husband before him just because she could not give him a child."

Kitty thought it unlikely that Henry would ever frame his wives, though it would not be unlikely if another whispered in his ear. He was so easy to deceive and manipulate, and many at his side did. But those were all supporters of his current queen, the one falling so quickly from her high horse. Who was close to the King now that was whispering things against the queen?

Of course, there was her father. But he was such a devout man, whether he liked another or not, he would never speak against them, especially to his sovereign.

She did not doubt Charles, he was quite open when it came to his feelings toward others. But would he be so braised to speak against his King's wife? Perhaps... Kitty wondered.

Charles admitted his feelings toward her and again he had wrote to her confessing and expressing how deeply grieved he was without her. She would never admit it, but she had been a wreck without his guidance. His letters had been a source of comfort when they arrived. She would kiss them and hold them to her chest before reading them, never quite sure why she did it or why it made her feel they way she did.

But even if Charles had done so in her favor, would he truly wish to see her with another man? His own friend, one who never seemed content with his wives? As much as she wanted to doubt it, having her close was better than having her across the sea in a foreign country.

That night Kitty laid in bed, wide awake, her thoughts across the waters in England. Word had reached them at last about Anne's trial. She had been found guilty of murdering her husband and innocent of the Queen. That had been her brother's doing.

Henry had the marriage annulled and his infant daughter by Anne, declared a bastard. Anne was to be executed within the week and her brother was to die a traitors death. Highly placed or not, he had killed a Queen.

Kitty wondered truly if Anne had done it. She may have boasted often when she was first in favor, but she did not seem the kind to remove her enemies so easily. And her husband was not as great of an obstacle as the Queen was, so why kill her husband and not Katherine? This, Kitty had been confused about. And what evidence had been found? They could find no trace of poison when he first passed, how were they able to now?

Was it true? Did Henry really tire of her when she failed to provide an heir? Was this really over a son?

Kitty sat up, her sheets cascading down to her lap, rippling around her like a pool of satin. She stared aimlessly in the dark, knees pressed to her chest while she nestled her chin on them.

Henry had wanted her once before. Before the Boleyns sought drastic measures and exiled her from England. Had they not, would this be her? Would she be sent to the tower to await her fate over some false accusations created to rid the King of her and make way for a newer, quite younger and more fertile bride?

She had warned Henry she may not conceive, and he had assured her it did not matter, but now she knew. She knew well enough that it did matter and she prayed to God that night that the King would not turn his eye back in her direction.

She dreaded the day a letter would arrive announcing Anne's death. She feared for the letters from Charles and her father, pleading to her mother that they both return home.

Kitty did not want to go home, even if it meant seeing Charles again. For all the love she may have once had for him, it was now overcome with fear.