Unable to wander the grounds freely now that he was under the guise of Princess Elizabeth, Neville sat at a small writing desk engrossed in the ageless love letters Henry had sent to his late wife, Anne Boleyn. A few weeks after the king had departed, a bundle of the correspondence, marked with the royal seal, had mysteriously arrived at the Manor.

"Why did he send these letters to me, Lady Ashley?"

The governess's smile became reflective. "Perhaps his majesty didn't want you to believe he was a heartless monster. He was hoping to show you he once loved your mother."

"Did he love Elizabeth's mother?" Neville automatically corrected her. He refused to stay in the dead Princess's character in his private chambers. If he didn't have quiet moments where he could keep his own identity intact, he felt he would lose his sanity.

Lady Ashley put down her embroidery. "If you take the King's words at face value, it's hard to believe he didn't love her. His Majesty's always been reluctant to write anything by his own hand. The fact he wrote so effusively to Anne during their courtship reveals he had a great passion for her."

Neville sighed. "I'll never understand romance." He shrugged. "Or being in love with a girl." He shifted in his wooden chair, discreetly adjusting his crotch. The under garments he'd asked Sarah to fashion for him had allowed quick accessibility for immediate relief, but the stays never felt totally comfortable. "I wish I didn't have to dress like this."

"You don't have a choice in the matter. You're the Princess now. Eventually, you'll get used to your wardrobe."

"By God, I hope not." Neville turned his attention back to the intriguing love letters. From what he could surmise, Henry's pattern of thinking was terribly black-and-white. "Did he always expect Anne to be perfect? It's almost as if he was raised to believe women were goddesses."

"Henry was raised in the same house as his mother and sisters. They had a great influence on him, but Anne was the perfect match for him intellectually. She had ambition. Her thirst for knowledge and power was incredible. She was also cunning and fearlessness. The day of her execution, I saw her true nature. She didn't cry or beg for mercy. She wore her beautiful gray dress like she was still his Queen, hoping he would pardon her to the last minute. Personally, I don't believe Henry would have faced his own death so bravely."

Neville stroked the letters, flattening the creased papers. "Eventually, the King will realize I'm far from perfect."

"It's a good sign the king sent you these letters, Neville. You've touched a part of his heart he hasn't felt in years. Emotions he's kept locked away like a forgotten beast in a cage."

"Do you think he suffers over what he did to Princess Elizabeth's mother?" Neville was skeptical he'd touched Henry's heart. He knew the Royal King's jovial nature and gluttonous appetites made him appear uncomplicated. He was sure no one, not even Anne Boleyn, had ever known the King's true inner psyche. Henry's larger than life persona was a deceptive front meant to put those around him at ease. He charmed, then crushed those in his path who opposed him, long before they understood what was happening to them.

Lady Ashley resumed her embroidery. She was surprised she found being honest about Anne so cathartic. "No, I don't believe he regrets what he did. I suspect he's worried about his own absolution. Especially now that he ages."

"He told me Anne wasn't a witch. Why didn't he pardon her if he loved her?"

Lady Ashley paused recalling the doomed Queen's earlier years of the marriage. "Anne was driven by ambition. The King offered her to be his mistress, but she declined. You see, it was always all or nothing with Anne. He made her his equal, but she couldn't produce a male heir. That was what sealed her fate. If she'd been a real witch, don't you think she would have made a pact with the devil to spawn a son?"

Neville shuddered. "It's hard for me to believe only her own ambitions killed her. What about her family's part in encouraging the marriage? Anyway, there's no such thing as the devil."

Lady Ashley leveled her gaze on Neville. "Do you really think Satan's not real?"

Neville straightened. "That's exactly what I believe. The men who govern us do horrible things to one another in the name of God. You might as well give these men who rule the world their due. Not some imaginary devil."

Lady Ashley smiled. "You are a smart boy, Neville."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, Physician Ingle joined Neville in the study. When the Lady Ashley excused herself for her daily walk in the garden, Neville showed the King's letters to Ingle. "He sent you his love letters on a whim?" Ingle regarded the correspondence with interest. "Those letters reveal a lot about the King's character-his emotional vulnerabilities as well as his temperament. They're good intelligence."

Neville looked up at him. "What do you mean, intelligence?"

Ingle pulled the cipher book from his satchel.
"Here, I'll show you."