Chapter 9: Sisterly Affection

Peanut dust. Edward died from an allergic reaction to peanut dust. Elizabeth can't stop thinking about it as she tosses and turns. Unable to sleep, she gets out of bed and sits on the ground to sort out her thoughts.

Somebody must have snitched. Nobody knew Edward was allergic to peanuts. Their father, in his paranoia, had made everyone swear to keep Edward's allergy a secret. It was in the contract of every bodyguard, nanny, tutor, chef, and assistant who worked for the Tudors. Even the gardeners had the clause of secrecy in their contracts. Henry had gone so far as to make secret deals with every restaurant the Tudors ate at to ensure Edward could eat there without having to make his allergy public. Elizabeth once thought that her father's actions bordered on lunacy. Now, she's not so sure.

Racking her brain, Elizabeth tries to figure out who betrayed her brother. Certainly none of the people who worked with him would. Would Mary's people have tried to off him? Was it an associate of John Hardwick?

Suddenly, she remembers sitting in Bess Raleigh's living room. With her heart pounding, her words that afternoon echo in her mind.

"I can't believe he's already an adult. It seems like yesterday Mary and I were reading the back of his granola bars to make sure there weren't any peanuts in them."

She is the traitor. She had betrayed her brother's secret.

But I only told Margaret, she tells herself. Margaret works at the science center. She has no connection to Edward. That's why I came to Sunset Valley. I didn't want any connections to my old life. 

But Bess does, a little voice in the back of her head whispers. Bess was in the kitchen when she told Margaret. She could have easily overheard. 

Elizabeth begins to wail hysterically as the realization the she inadvertantly killed Edward hits her. Her cries rouse her husband. 

"Elizabeth? What's wrong?" he asks sleepily.

 "I killed him!"

"What? No, honey, you didn't kill anybody. It was just a nightmare."

"I killed him! Bess knows about peanuts and I killed him! It's all my fault!"

Robert frowns, struggling to understand. Getting out of bed, he walks over to his wife and pulls her to her feet. He decides tries a new approach. "Darling, who did you kill?"

"EDWARD!"

"Okay. What does Bess know about peanuts?"

"That Edward can't have them!"

"I see. How does Bess know this?"

"Because I told her! I told her about the peanuts! Now Edward is dead and it's my fault!"

As Elizabeth sobs, Robert manages to put the pieces of her train of thought together. His attempts to soothe and reassure her fail, so in the end, he just takes her in his arms, carries her to bed, and holds her, letting her weep until she falls asleep.

When morning comes, her tears are spent. Elizabeth knows what she has to do. Somebody has to tell the police who let Edward's secret allergy slip. The thought of setting foot in her old neighborhood is revolting, but she has to do it. It will be her last act of sisterly affection towards her brother. Resigned, Elizabeth packs a suitcase and bids her family goodbye.

"Mind your father while I'm gone," she tells the children. "I'll call every night. Keep up with your schoolwork and behave. I'll be home as soon as I can."

The children nod. After kissing each one on the head, she kisses her husband.

"You're doing the right thing," he tells her softly. "Do what you have to do, then come home. We'll be right here when you get back."

Elizabeth smiles sadly. "I wish you could come with me," she admits. "I'm not sure I can do this without you, Robert."

"I wish I could go with you, too, dear. But somebody has to hold down the fort." He lovingly kisses her forehead. "You are a strong woman, love. Go show them how strong you are."

"For Edward?" she whispers.

"Yes, for Edward. But also for yourself." Robert hugs her one last time. "Go, darling. We'll be here."

Elizabeth gets into the waiting taxi and waves to her family. Robert, Catherine, Jane and James wave until the taxi disappears from view.

While Elizabeth is gone, life carries on as normally as it can. At first, Robert feels a little overwhelmed running the household by himself, but he gets used to it as the days pass.

He's particularly grateful for Catherine's help looking after Philippa.

Between Catherine and the peg box, Robert is usually able to get a few hours of writing done a day. The Enchanted Orchestra is progressing nicely.

Sometimes the muse speaks to Robert so clearly that he can't tear himself away to cook dinner. When that happens, Catherine is also responsible for feeding the twins. Unlike Philippa, the twins aren't particularly enthusiastic about her cooking.

"Cereal? Again? Couldn't you fix us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? Or a salad? It doesn't have to be gourmet, you know. Just something besides cereal. Anything but cereal!"

When he does cook, Robert enforces Elizabeth's cherished family mealtime ritual, feeling that maintaining normalcy is the best route to go. Elizabeth often times her phone calls to coincide with dinner; Robert puts her on speakerphone so that she can participate in the mealtime conversation. She says very little about what is happening where she is, and is far more interested in hearing what happened in school that day and how Robert's work is progressing. 

Her late-night calls are slightly more enlightening. These calls are for Robert's ears only. Elizabeth doesn't want to burden the children with information about the murder of their uncle, whom they never knew. She also doesn't want them to know about her frustration and anxiety. 

"I've told the police here everything I know," she grumbles one night, "but they still want me to stay in town for a few more days. I'm stuck here at Walsingham's. I feel like a prisoner."

"Love, there's no need to be a hermit. Go out on the town. See a play or attend a concert. Go to a poetry reading. Doesn't he have a daughter? Ask her to show you what's happening. I know you loathe being back there, but nobody said it had to be total drudgery." 

"I don't want to be photographed for the tabloids. If I don't go out, they can't take my picture and speculate why I'm at the symphony and why I'm with Frances Walsingham and Robert Devereux. The best thing to do is lay low."

"I didn't say go out with Francis and his friends. That would be drudgery, listening to all those conspiracy theories! Go out with his daughter and hers."

"His daughter is Frances. Devereux is her fiance."

"Francis named his daughter Frances?"

"Yes."

"How...original. Anyway, dear, the tabloids all know you're back in town, yes?"

"Unfortunately."

"Well, don't forget they can also speculate about why you are holed up in the Walsingham fortress." Robert hears her grumbling. "Have a little fun, love. Please. Don't make your stay worse than it has to be."

"Fine..."

Free from his mother's watchful eyes, James ignores his homework and heads to the park to spend his afternoons fishing. 

That is, until his academically-minded, honor-roll sisters catch him at the park.

"I hate geography. I hate you both, too."

"Stop whining James, it's not that hard. I'll even help you."

"Shut up, Jane. I don't need your help, you nerd."

"Fine! You just go ahead and be stupid!"

"Fine! I will!"

"If the two of you don't shut up, I'll knock your heads together and feed you cereal for supper," Catherine grumbles. They work in silence in the hope that they might get a real meal for supper. When Catherine leaves to tend the garden, James looks over guiltily at his twin.

"I'm sorry I called you a nerdy genius. Will you still help me?"

Jane sighs. "Sure. Where are you stuck?"

James isn't the only one who finds reasons to neglect homework. 

Unaware of the coldness between her parents and his, Catherine finally works up the nerve to ask Carmen Raleigh if he will be her boyfriend. 

She almost faints with joy when he says yes. 

"When is Mom coming home? It's been two weeks." 

Robert sighs. "I don't know, sweetheart. The last time I spoke to her, she was hoping to be home next week, but she isn't sure."

"Why doesn't she just leave?"

"Because she isn't finished helping her family yet."

"Catherine says it's really stupid that Mom has to help them. She doesn't talk to them, they don't talk to us. Why doesn't Mom talk to them? Does she not care about them? I mean, they're her family like we are, but she cares about us. Why?"

"It's very complicated sweetheart," Robert says slowly. "You're right, your mom doesn't really talk to her family much. When she was your age, her family wasn't close like ours is. She didn't have the kind of relationship with her siblings that you have with yours. Not all families are as close as we are. That's why she doesn't talk to them very often."

"Okay. So why is she helping them?"

"She feels it's her responsibility to help them because they're her family. She thinks that she knows something that will help them with their problem."

"Why should she feel responsible?"

"Emotions aren't always logical, sweetheart. She just does."

"Hmph." Jane stares at the board. "Well if James and Catherine didn't talk to me, I wouldn't help them. They could solve their own problems."

Robert chuckles. "Have you ever helped your brother with homework when you were upset with him?"

"Well...yeah."

"Why?"

"Because...he's my brother. It was the nice thing to do."

"That's how your mother feels right now. She's upset with her family, but it was important to her that she helped them right now. But I promise you, if I thought your mother was getting herself into trouble, I would have done my best to convince her that she shouldn't go. Does that make you feel better?"

"I guess." Jane thinks for a minute. "I guess Mom's family is lucky that she's so nice."

"They are very lucky." Robert smiles at his daughter. "You know, you're brother's pretty lucky that you're so nice, too. I don't think he'd have gotten a B on that last test if you hadn't helped him study."

They remain silent as Jane roundly defeats her father. Robert never cared for chess much, but he's taken it up as a way to enjoy time with Jane.

"I hope Catherine, James, Philippa and I never stop talking," Jane says quietly as she stands up.

Robert kisses her on the top of her head. "I hope so, too," he answers. 

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We're getting close to the climax of this story. Thank goodness. I'm trying to sketch out a plot for the next generation that is more organized and less melodramatic. I'm surprised I've made it this far in this plot. I tend to lose interest in writing a story after about the halfway point, so this is impressive for me.

Speaking of writing, I have a feeling that I don't write children very well, so if anybody has tips, suggestions or critiques on writing children, feel free to let me know.

I hope I'm handling Elizabeth's family struggles in a fairly realistic fashion and that the last scene was decent. I'm not a parent, so I have absolutely no idea how I would handle questions of that nature from a child. I just kind of rolled with it what came to my mind.

Yes, the real Francis Walsingham named his daughter Frances Walsingham. Hurr. Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex was her second husband. He was the stepson of the real Robert Dudley, who married his mother Lettice Knollys. While he was the favorite of Elizabeth in her later years, Essex led a coup against the government in 1601 and was summarily executed. He was in charge of English troops in Ireland and had left Ireland without the Queen's permission and was deprived of public office after being convicted of deserting his office. He was remorseful until the Queen refused to renew his right to collect the taxes on the sweet wine monopoly, which was his main income. Then he kind of lost it, fortified his house and attempted to march on London. Needless to say, it did not end well.

So, I'm not planning on using poses very often because I've  found they sometimes cause issues in my houses from time to time (the 2-story houses, that is) and they are a lot of work to get the Sims in the right places and such. I decided to use them for this chapter.  A few might be sprinkled around through my legacy, but I'd like to keep them to a minimum for my own sanity.

In that vein, ignore the discrepancies on which side of the bed Robert is sleeping on. I had to shoot these poses over the course of two Sim nights. The second night, Robert stubbornly refused to sleep on the right side of the bed. Let's just pretend he rolls around a lot. *glares at Robert*

Argh, the more I look at my pictures, the more I feel the need to upgrade my laptop. I hope they don't detract from the story. 

Chapter 8: The Reunion of Spirit and Temperance

"Spirit...it's been so long..." Elizabeth throws herself into his arms. She can't explain how much she's missed him these past years, how his presence fills a space that had been vacant in her life. 

"It has, hasn't it? I would have sought you out earlier, but I was afraid if we socialized, it would give the Hardwicks reason to suspect you were actively involved with the company. I'm sorry we haven't met up sooner." 

"All is forgiven, Spirit."

Of all the people she had left behind, William Cecil was the one she missed the most. He had been one of her few truly close friends at school besides Robert, sharing her bookish nature and genius. Cecil was her intellectual equivalent, someone she could always count on to be able to discuss the latest ideas in philosophy with or from whom she could get an opinion on the latest book. Most importantly, Cecil was honest with her: brutally honest. Cecil was the one friend she had who told her what she needed to hear, not what she wanted to hear. Such friends are rare when one is an heiress. Elizabeth had missed having someone she could go to for a completely honest opinion.

"Spirit, what happened to Edward? Why wouldn't you tell me on the phone?"

Cecil sighs. "It was a necessary precaution. Your phone may be tapped.  Besides, I felt it would be better to discuss this in person."

"Did Walsingham tap my phone?"

"No. He's actually the source of most of my information."

Elizabeth chuckles. Not even the police could keep Francis Walsingham from information he wanted.

"Well, we're here now. Tell me what happened to Edward."

Cecil takes a deep breath. "He died from an allergic reaction to peanuts."

Elizabeth stares at him. "Excuse me?"

"Technically he died from anaphylaxis shock, but it resulted from an allergic reaction caused by ingesting peanuts."

"Spirit, Edward has been allergic to peanuts his entire life. He knew full well not to eat anything that had peanuts or had been in contact with peanuts. His chefs knew, too. That can't be the cause of his death."

"The forensics team examined the remains of Edward's meal," Cecil says gently. "They found a light sprinkling of peanut dust on every dish. The chefs were questioned, but all swear that they did nothing. No peanuts were found in the kitchen or in the garbage. Technicians are viewing the tapes from the surveillance cameras. They've pretty much ruled out an accidental death, as his chefs all knew about the allergy. "

"So if it wasn't an accident," Elizabeth says slowly, "then it was intentional. "You're telling me somebody murdered my brother?"

Cecil nods grimly. "It's looking that way."

"But why?" Elizabeth asks. Her hands have started to shake. "Why would anybody hurt Edward? He just finished school..." She trails off as she tries to come up with a motive for killing her brother.

Cecil takes her hand. "You need something to eat. Let's order something."

The friends change out of their work attire and order food. They eat in silence for awhile, until Cecil finally speaks.

"I can hear the cogs turning in your head, Elizabeth. What are you thinking?"

"I think that the murder scenario doesn't add up, Spirit," she says thoughtfully. "Nobody knew about Edward's allergy except our inner circle. Father made sure of that. Yet, the police don't believe that anybody in that circle is the culprit. How can you murder somebody with peanuts if you don't know about the allergy?"

"Somebody must have found out," Cecil replies.

"But how? Who would have betrayed us?" Elizabeth demands. "Who could have betrayed Edward? He was the kindest, sweetest boy..." She bites her lip, thinking about the pale, skinny boy she said goodbye to years ago.

"They're sweeping his home and office for bugs," Cecil says comfortingly. "Believe me, his case is high-profile, given who he was. No stone will go unturned."

"Which means I can expect the police on my doorstep any day now," Elizabeth says bitterly, stabbing at her cobbler. "The press, too. Invading my privacy."

Cecil pats her hand sympathetically. "You could go back you know," he says quietly. "Go back for a few days, attend the funeral, talk to the police, and then come home. That way the public doesn't have to know where you live."

"The police will want me to stay until the investigation is over. I'm not leaving my family for six weeks to appease the police when I have nothing to do with this."

"Edward was your brother," Cecil says. "Don't you want to find out what happened?"

"Half-brother," Elizabeth snaps. Cecil frowns at the bite in her voice, and she feels guilty. "I'm sorry, Spirit, you know I cared about Edward. Of course I want to find out what happened, and I will cooperate. But I came to Sunset Valley to escape this life. I don't want a life of intrigue, scheming and plots. I want to go to work and not worry that my coworkers are slipping poison in my lunch. I want to come home each night, kiss my husband, snuggle my baby and play with my children. I want to work in my overgrown garden and go on dates with Robert without being photographed. I just know that if I go back I will get sucked into that world again."

"You can run, my friend, but you'll never escape being a Tudor," Cecil replies.

"I may be a Tudor, but I won't play their game. I've played by my own rules my entire life and I won't stop now. This Tudor lives her life on her own terms," she retorts.

"Aye, she does." Cecil smiles at his friend. "I daresay John Hardwick envies you that. You have more freedom and thus more power."

"The only power I want is the power to live the way I choose without interference," she says. "No more and no less."

They sit in silence for awhile, sipping after dinner coffee.

"Spirit, you never answered my question," Elizabeth says suddenly. "Why would somebody kill Edward?"

Cecil shifts in his chair. "Elizabeth, they don't have any suspects yet, let alone motives. I mean, it was premeditated, so motives could include anything fr-."

"Cut the crap, Spirit," Elizabeth interrupts. "Tell me what you think the motive is. Your speculation is as valuable to me as any cop's."

"Be that as it may, it still remains speculation."

"Tell me, Spirit." She stares at her friend, unwavering. "Tell me what you think."

Cecil sighs. "I suspect that someone is targeting the primary Tudor shareholders. Walsingham told me that there was a sit-down recently to discuss a possible merge between the Tudors and the Hardwicks. If Walsingham has his facts straight, then Edward and Mary were opposed, but Edward's objections were more vehement. Mind you that this is all speculation, but I suspect that Edward was targeted in hopes that Mary would be more amenable to the merge. It gets Edward out of the way and shows Mary what lengths the John Hardwick is willing to go to in order to get what he wants."

There is a long pause. "I see," Elizabeth says finally. "Well, I guess I feel safer being in Sunset Valley and out of reach."

"Elizabeth, I don't think you understand," Cecil says urgently. " If someone is targeting the main shareholders of the company, you are in danger, too."

"I'm not a shareholder, remember? I sold my shares back to my siblings. I have no vested interest in the company."

"That doesn't mean anything to these people. You're still a Tudor. It doesn't matter that you don't have a vested interest now. All that matters is that you are the daughter of old Harry and the sister of Edward and Mary. You are a Tudor and you might have a vested interest at some point in the future. You have the potential to have a vested interest, and that potential means that in their eyes, you are still a player in the game."

"Spirit, I just told you. I don't want that life."

Cecil smiles sadly at her. "I know that. But do you think that your father's rivals believe that for a minute? They can't imagine themselves enjoying that kind of life, so they don't believe that you do. They think you were bullied out of the company by your siblings. They're expecting you to make a grab for power."

Elizabeth laughs mirthlessly. "Then they are fools. Pray tell, Spirit , what happens when I don't make my bid for power? What happens when I let Mary run the company as she pleases?"

"They will suspect that Mary was the one who wanted to keep you out of the business and that she bullied Edward into going along with her schemes."

"All right. Let's hypothesize for a moment. Say Mary dies. When I let the Board of Directors choose another CEO, what happens then?"

"They assume that the Board of Directors is keeping you out. They'll keep their eye on you."

"So, what you're telling me is that I'll always be a target," Elizabeth says quietly.

"Not necessarily a target," Cecil says quickly, hoping to reassure her. "They'll always have an interest in you, but as time goes on, it will be apparent to them that the one they need to be concerned with is Mary. It would be a waste of time to concern themselves with you."

"But they'll still keep an eye on me," she says bitterly. "The one thing I wanted was to get away from that life. Spirit, I've done everything I can to get out short of changing my name! What am I supposed to do?"

Her friend just shakes his head. For the first time in his life, Cecil has no answers for her.

Elizabeth arrives home to find her children and husband asleep. She looks at this garden that she worked so hard to cultivate. She still feels pride at all she accomplished with Robert, but she no longer feels as safe behind these walls as she once did. She quietly presses a kiss on each child's forehead, and heads to bed.

Elizabeth feels a little better lying in bed with Robert curled up beside her. He may not have the insider connections that Cecil has, but she knows her husband would do anything to protect her and the life they created in Sunset Valley. His face may have some wrinkles now, but she'll always see him as her Sweet Robin, the only boy who had an inkling how lonely she was, the teenager who showed her she was loveable, and the young man who dropped everything to run away with her.
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THE BIG REVEAL! Our mystery man is the Right Honorable Sir William Cecil, Lord Burghley, Secretary of State, Lord High Treasurer, Lord Privy Seal, Chancellor of Cambridge University, member of both the Order of the Garter and the Privy Council, and Political Genius Extraordinaire. Basically, he was Elizabeth's right-hand man. Robert Dudley was her emotional rock, but Cecil was her political rock. There is, however, no Cecil-Elizabeth-Robert love triangle. I hope that was clear.

So, I'm trying to liken business relations to court politics, but I'm afraid the plot is sort of becoming too convoluted and is beginning to not make sense. I mean, it makes sense to me, but that isn't any guarantee it makes sense to anybody else. If there's confusion, I apologize.

So, peanut allergy death...totally corny, right? I didn't want it to be straight-up poison, guns or anything, so we went with death by peanuts. My reasons for choosing peanuts as the murder weapon will become clearer   in the next chapter or so. There is a method to my madness...I think.

The title comes from nicknames for Elizabeth and Cecil. I've mentioned that Elizabeth often referred to Cecil as her "Spirit." Cecil, of course, had no nicknames for her (unless you count "Madam," which I don't), but her brother, Edward did. He referred to her as his "Sweet Sister Temperance." I almost called it "The Reunion of Spirit and Faerie," in reference to Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene, a long poem which can be read as praise for Elizabeth. Spenser was Poet Laureate of England during her reign, and was favored by her. I decided to go with Temperance because it sort of hearkens back to Edward, the unfortunate murder victim in my story. His death turned from death by illness (people still aren't sure what exactly killed him - tuberculosis, also known as consumption, is often cited) into murder for the plot.

Chapter 7: Temporary Idyll

Learning to talk in the Tudor household can be a traumatizing experience. 

"Guess what, James?  Daddy is getting a new cell phone! Not only will I have better service, but I can use the camera to take photos of you to put online. I can use them as blackmail when you become a teenager! Doesn't that sound great, James?"

"I've heard lots of stories about my mother's ghost, but I never got to see her. I don't know if I'd like to meet her now or not. I did meet my stepmother's ghost. Her name was Catherine Howard. Unlike most ghosts, she doesn't talk. She just runs up and down this hallway in one of your grandfather's houses, screaming bloody murder. I tell you, sweetie, the night I met her was the WORST slumber party I ever had..."

Right. That's the last time Elizabeth tells a ghost story to a toddler.

Luckily, Daddy knows how to make Jane forget all about screaming ghosts.

Jane loves to play with the peg box, but James takes after his mother. He loves the xylophone.

Like her older sister, Jane enjoys playing inside the toy box with the horse.

James prefers chewing the heads off of the dolls from the doll house.

Robert cuddles his children as often as he can. He knows that they won't stay this small and cuddly forever.

The more he grows, the more James resembles his father. The only exception is his nose; his nose is all Elizabeth, passed on through generations of Tudor children.

Jane has the same nose. She also has Elizabeth's lips and the trademark Tudor red hair.

James and Jane are very close and do lots of activities together, despite having very different personalities.

James is laid back, artsy and outdoorsy. He loves to go fishing and to paint.

Jane is, for lack of a better word, serious. She always does her homework on time and prefers to spend her free time reading or playing chess.

Despite having different ideas of what is fun, James and Jane agree that it's always better to do it together. Their favorite place to go is the park, because there are both chess tables and plenty of places to fish. They spend hours at the park, happily bickering the entire time.

"So, James...is this supposed to be fun?"

"Um, yeah."

"Care to explain how?"

"Just shut up, will you? I'm trying to focus."

"Focus on what? There's nothing to focus on! You don't need to use your brain at all!"

"JANE!"

"Jane, this is so boring."

"Is not! It's all about strategy. Chess requires brainpower, unlike fishing. Fishing is more boring than chess."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"You don't like fishing because you can't catch anything."

"Yeah, well, you don't like chess because you always lose. Checkmate, loser!"

Not long after the twins grow up, Philippa grows into a toddler. She, too, has the Tudor red locks.

She is a very mannerly child, always tasting her food delicately. Robert swore he saw her sticking out her little pinkie once while eating.

Like her siblings before her, Phillipa goes with Daddy to the library. Robert has started a fantasy novel, The Enchanted Orchestra, and he finds it much easier to work in the library.

Philippa loves the xylophone. Elizabeth is thrilled that so many of her children love music as much as she does.

Playing with the doll house is the only thing that James refuses to do with his twin sister. While he globs paint on a canvas, Jane plays with Philippa, who enjoys the doll house as much as Jane does.

Elizabeth really couldn't ask for much more in life. Her children are happy and healthy, her marriage is solid, and while her career is stagnant, it's stable. Life is good for Elizabeth Tudor.

Too good to last.

It is a quiet afternoon when the call comes. She is excited when she sees who it is. The only old friend that she was pleased to find had come to Sunset Valley.

"It's about time you called, S-"

"Elizabeth...Edward is dead."

Elizabeth is dumbfounded. "I - I don't understand," she stammers. "What happened?"

"I can't explain on the phone. Meet me at the bistro? We need to talk."
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Adding drama into the story has been difficult. I don't want it to be cheesy, I don't want to accidentally rip off of anybody else's stories, and most of all I just want my Sims to be happy. Sadly, endless updates about how happy everybody is are not interesting. Therefore, there must be drama. The big reveal of our mystery caller is coming up in the next chapter.

As mentioned last chapter, Elizabeth is still lingering on level four of journalism. I'm totally failing the job hopper part of this roll. I may start looking into mods regarding maternity leave so the next rolls go more smoothly. As for Robert, his sci-fi trilogy didn't go so well, so I'm hoping the fantasy novel he is working on goes over better. He doesn't have much time to write, but the finances are okay. Elizabeth's check is decent and they have a garden for food. The only bad thing is the three older children all share a bedroom. Poor kids. Privacy? What's that?

Sorry for the poor picture of Jane when she aged up. She's the heir, but I'm really having a crisis about that, as her brother, James, is one fine specimen of a Sim. They are teens in the game, and DANG, he's a good-looking Sim. Jane is pretty, but James...I love him. If only I had rolled single with help. *sighs wistfully*

The real Elizabeth's brother, Edward VI, did die young. He was always sickly and died at the age of sixteen after a six year reign. Catherine Howard, Henry VIII's fifth wife is supposed to haunt the Long Gallery at Hampton Court Palace. She had been placed under house arrest once her infidelity had been discovered, and when she found out Henry was attending services in his chapel, she broke free from her guards and ran screaming through the Long Gallery towards the chapel to beg forgiveness. He never heard her, as the guards caught up with her. I can never decide whether or not I pity Catherine; she was only twenty-one when she was beheaded, so her youth makes her pitiable, as well as the fact that I'm sure she wasn't thrilled about having a now aging and corpulent Henry for a husband (He was actually very athletic and good-looking in his youth, but after Jane Seymour, he kind of went to seed), but on the other hand, she was a dolt to think she could get away with infidelity. Anne Boleyn was Catherine's cousin, and had been executed six years prior on similar, trumped up charges (the scholars I've read generally assert Anne was innocent - she had worked too hard to get her place as queen to risk it by having an affair). So, she was stupid to assume she could get away with it. Henry was a jealous man and the law decreed infidelity against the king as being a form of treason. Anyway, she was executed in 1542 at Tower Green in the Tower of London, as was her lover, Thomas Culpepper. Her ghost is also supposed to haunt the Tower, where she is buried along with Anne in the chapel on the grounds, St. Peter ad-Vincula (St. Peter in Chains).

...I get the feeling my notes are as long as the actual story. Sorry about that. Feel free to skim. I just ramble. I've spent four years writing history papers and old habits die really hard...