His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Chapter 51: The King’s Son Is Dead

"The king’s son is dead."

Livia stared at her. "What? The one that was just baptised a few weeks ago?"

Jane nodded.

"How?"

"No news yet," Jane said. "But the Lord Chancellor is expected to make an announcement later today."

A child. Dead.

"Oh," Livia murmured, her mind struggling to settle on the image of it. "His poor mother. The pain she must be feeling."

Jane sighed, her face tightening with sympathy. "I cannot imagine it. To carry a child, nurse him, watch him breathe, and then..." She stopped herself, shaking her head. "God have mercy. I hear the king was distraught too," Jane said.

At that, Livia raised a brow.

"Shouldn’t he be used to the deaths of family members by now?" she asked. "I mean the man killed seven of his brothers. He should be able to handle one more."

"This one is different, Livia," Jane said softly. "This is his son."

"Jane, anyone capable of unjust murder should be given no pity."

"Anyways..." Jane said, drawing the word out. "How was your night?"

"Oh... my... God..." Livia squealed, clasping both hands over her mouth as though the memory might spill out before she had properly arranged it. Her eyes brightened. Her cheeks warmed.

Jane’s brows shot up. "That good?"

"It was amazing."

Jane sat quickly, because this clearly required full attention. She pulled her dressing gown tighter, crossed one leg over the other, and prepared herself. "Start from the beginning," she said. "And do not insult me by being vague."

Livia laughed, dropping onto the bed beside her. Then she began. She told Jane everything.

Enough to make Jane’s eyes widen in places, enough to make her grin knowingly in others. Some parts left Jane impressed. Some made her laugh outright. Some made her reach over and squeeze Livia’s hand, quietly proud that her friend had not folded under uncertainty.

"So," Jane said at last, leaning back with satisfaction, "you gave it your best."

"I did more than my best."

"I can see that. You are glowing. So... what did he say about getting you out of here?"

"He plans on paying Beaumont whatever price he asks for."

Jane’s whole face lit up. "Oh my God, it’s really happening!"

"Yes." Livia pressed her lips together, trying not to look as hopeful as she felt. Still, she could not keep it from her voice. "I’m hoping it’s soon though, before the month ends."

Jane frowned. "Why?"

"I don’t know what Beaumont is going to do," Livia said, the brightness fading slightly. "He collected money from Henry and that other weird man that talks too much."

"For the same month?" Jane asked, eyes widening.

"Yes!" Livia threw up her hands. "I don’t understand how one man can carry the greed of ten men."

Jane made a thoughtful sound, Nicholas Beaumont’s greed was a medical curiosity. She reached for Livia’s hand and squeezed it. "Just stay calm. Pretend not to know anything, and you will be fine. If Beaumont thinks you know too much, he will start asking questions. And if he starts asking questions, he will somehow find a way to make you pay for the answers."

"That man would charge a corpse rent for the coffin."

"I’m so happy for you, Livia. Truly. You are the lucky one. Never before happened in Beaumont’s establishment that one who brings him so much fortune will get to leave so soon without being ruined first."

Livia knew what she meant. Girls came in through Beaumont’s doors one way and usually left another. The pretty ones were used for longer and the not so pretty ones continued as maids or married off to an older man.

"Thank you," Livia said.

Jane smiled, then pulled her into another hug.

*****

The Lord Chancellor sat in the investigation room, questioning everyone one after the other.

The chamber had dark panelled walls, narrow windows, a long table and chairs that punished the spine after only a few minutes. A crucifix hung on one wall, while two clerks sat nearby with ink and parchment.

Outside the room, the palace mourned. The Lord Chancellor had begun with Lady Bella, though she was still in the early throes of loss. It seemed cruel, but delay was a luxury no one wished to risk. In a royal household, truth spoiled quickly. Servants forgot. Courtiers invented. Fear rearranged memory. Better to take accounts while tears were still wet and lies had not yet been properly dressed.

Bella had cried through nearly all of it. She sat wrapped in mourning black, her face pale and swollen, a handkerchief crushed between trembling fingers. Once, one of the clerks had to pause because her sobbing made it impossible to hear the answer.

"Lady Bella," The Lord Chancellor said gently, "I must ask again. Begin from the morning."

"It was simple," she whispered. "It was all simple. Normal court duties." She had taken Thomas to visit the king that morning. The child had been well then—sleepy, warm, breathing. Henry had held him briefly. Bella remembered that clearly.

Afterward, she had returned to her chamber. Then she had gone to the library for a short while. She could not recall how long.

Later, she had gone to spend time with the Queen Mother and stayed to dine with her. The baby was left with the nurse.

Next was the nurse. She entered with a face so pale it seemed the mourning black had drained the colour out of her entirely. Her cap sat slightly crooked, and her hands worried at one another until the Lord Chancellor quietly told her to sit.

"Your name," the Lord Chancellor said.

"Agnes, my lord."

"And you were the child’s nurse?"

At that, her eyes filled at once. "Yes, my lord."

A clerk dipped his quill and began to write.

"Tell me what happened from the moment Lady Bella left the child in your care."

Agnes swallowed. "His Grace did not leave my side, my lord. Not once. He was fed, changed, and settled in his cradle. He slept most of the afternoon."