Bessie Blount & Henry FitzRoy may not be names as instantly recognizable as Anne Boleyn or Queen Elizabeth I, but their story holds a unique and revealing place in Tudor history. Long before Henry VIII’s famous six wives and his dramatic break from Rome, there was Bessie Blount—a royal mistress who bore the king his only acknowledged illegitimate child. Their son, Henry FitzRoy, was not just a symbol of Henry’s virility, but a potential heir to the throne at a time when the Tudor dynasty desperately needed one.
In this deep dive, we’ll explore who Bessie Blount really was, how her relationship with the king unfolded, and why the short life of Henry FitzRoy continues to intrigue historians and royal watchers alike.
Transcript of Bessie Blount & Henry FitzRoy: The Mistress Who Gave Henry VIII a Son
When we talk about the women in Henry VIII’s life, it’s usually the queens who dominate the conversation—Catherine, Anne, Jane, Anne, Catherine—all of the six. But before the annulments and the executions, before Henry broke with Rome and upended the religious landscape of England, there was another woman who played a quiet but significant role in his personal history. Her name was Bessie Blount.
She wasn’t a queen. She wasn’t even part of the powerful aristocracy. But she holds a unique place in Tudor history because she gave Henry something that none of his wives, up to that point, had managed to deliver: a healthy son.
Today, we’re going to look at the real story of Bessie Blount and her son, Henry FitzRoy—the king’s only acknowledged illegitimate child. No myths, no drama—just the facts about who she was, how she came to Henry’s attention, what happened after their affair, and why her son, though born out of wedlock, came closer than anyone else in Henry’s early reign to securing the Tudor line.
Bessie Blunt’s Early Life and Court Arrival
Elizabeth Blount, known familiarly as Bessie, was born around 1498 in Kinlet, Shropshire, to Sir John Blount and Katherine Peshall. The Blount family were part of the landed gentry—a class just below the nobility.
They were well established in their region and had strong Yorkist ties. Though they were not members of the high aristocracy, the Blounts were influential enough to position their children for advancement, especially with the rise of the Tudor dynasty.
As the eldest of several siblings, Bessie was raised with the kind of education expected of a gentry daughter with courtly ambitions. She would have been taught music, dancing, needlework, reading, and the basic etiquette of court life, alongside religious instruction.
Her mother, Katherine, came from the Peshall family—also of gentry rank—and likely ensured that Bessie was trained in the qualities most admired in Tudor women: especially piety, modesty, and grace. Though, as we will see, Bessie’s charm went far beyond the conventional.
By around 1513, she was likely in her mid-teens. Bessie arrived at court as a maid-of-honour to Queen Katherine of Aragon—a highly prestigious position. It placed her directly within the queen’s household and daily orbit: helping to dress her, attending prayers, and participating in court entertainments. It also would have placed her in close proximity to the king himself.
Court life under Henry VIII was glittering and energetic. This was still the early part of Henry’s reign, when he was the athletic, charismatic young prince. Bessie would have danced in masques, appeared at feasts, and moved through rooms filled with music, poetry, and courtly flirtation. For a young woman from rural gentry, this was a world of endless opportunity—but also great risk. It was here, in this swirl of ceremony and flirtation, that Bessie first caught the king’s eye.
Affair with Henry VIII and Birth of Henry Fitzroy
We don’t know the precise moment when Bessie became Henry’s mistress. Like many royal affairs, it wasn’t formally announced or recorded. Signs suggest that the relationship began around 1515 or 1516, during one of Queen Katherine’s pregnancies.
This was a period when Henry often took mistresses, following the custom of abstaining from marital relations during gestation. It was seen as bad luck—and even dangerous—for the king to have relations with the queen while she was pregnant.
Bessie’s role as a maid-of-honour gave her constant proximity to both the queen and the king. She would have participated in the elaborate entertainments that Henry so loved. These were spaces where flirtation flourished, and where a young, witty, musically gifted woman like Bessie could shine.
By all accounts, Bessie was attractive and well-mannered, with the kind of graceful presence that stood out at court. We don’t have any surviving portraits of her. The only confirmed likeness is a stylized brass on the tomb monument of her parents. Contemporary descriptions suggest she conformed to the Tudor standard of beauty: she was fair and poised.
Henry was in his mid-twenties at this point. He was still the athletic, charismatic king of legend—muscular, handsome, and charming. Their relationship likely followed the typical form of Tudor courtship: gifts, compliments, and private encounters facilitated by trusted courtiers.
William Compton, one of the king’s close companions, is often suggested as the go-between. Discretion would have been essential. Unlike later affairs that stirred controversy—most famously with Anne Boleyn—this liaison was quiet and even understated. There’s little indication that Bessie received lavish gifts or titles during the affair itself. Her family did benefit, particularly her father, who received various grants and appointments around this time.
But Bessie herself remained largely in the background. It’s a reminder that royal mistresses in England didn’t have the formal status they might have enjoyed at, say, the French court. They were tolerated, not celebrated.
And yet, in 1519, this private relationship suddenly became very, very public. Bessie was pregnant, and this time, the king would not deny paternity. The child born of this relationship would go on to become one of the most significant figures of Henry’s early reign—not just a symbol of Henry’s virility, but a potential dynastic solution.
It’s through the birth of that child—a son, Henry FitzRoy—that we know for certain the affair took place. In an age obsessed with bloodlines, the existence of a living, healthy son changed everything for Henry.
On June 15, 1519, Bessie Blount gave birth to a healthy baby boy. The child was named Henry after his father and given the surname FitzRoy, which literally means “son of the king.” It was an unmistakable public statement. While Henry VIII had likely fathered other illegitimate children—we’ve talked about Catherine Carey, for example—this was the only one he formally acknowledged.
In the context of the Tudor court, this was extraordinary. English kings rarely admitted to their illegitimate offspring, let alone celebrated them. FitzRoy’s birth, however, came at a critical moment. Queen Katherine had given birth to multiple children, but only one—Princess Mary—had survived.
Henry was growing increasingly anxious about the future of his dynasty. A living, healthy boy—even one born outside of marriage—was proof that the fault did not lie with him. Bessie, now the mother of a royal son, disappeared quietly from court. It was expected that women in her position would retreat from public life after bearing a child for the king.
Henry FitzRoy’s Upbringing and Titles
She likely gave birth at the Augustinian Priory of St. Lawrence at Blackmore in Essex, a quiet religious house far from the scrutiny of London and one that had connections to Cardinal Wolsey, who may have helped manage the arrangements.
After the birth, Henry was removed from Bessie’s care and placed into a noble household with wet nurses, tutors, and attendants to raise him. This was standard practice for elite children in Tudor England, especially those with political value. While Bessie had brought the child into the world, she wouldn’t be a central figure in his upbringing.
Henry’s reaction to the birth was measured but still significant. He didn’t legitimize the boy—doing so would have complicated his marriage and the succession—but he made sure that FitzRoy was cared for, respected, and kept close. It’s likely that he visited the child during progresses and received updates on his health and education.
As for Bessie, there was no dramatic scandal, no royal disgrace. Her withdrawal from court life was handled with discretion. She wouldn’t become another royal mistress lingering in the shadows. Instead, her story took a new turn—one that led to a respectable marriage, a quiet country life, and, surprisingly, continued royal favor. But we’ll come to that.
First, let’s talk about the boy she bore, and the possibility—however brief—that he might one day have worn the crown. From the moment he was acknowledged by his father, Henry FitzRoy’s life was shaped not just as the son of a courtier or a mistress, but as the only male child that Henry VIII could call his own.
Though illegitimate, he was raised with the deference and ceremony of a prince, and his upbringing was carefully managed—likely under the oversight of Cardinal Wolsey. He was surrounded by handpicked tutors, servants, and companions.
In 1525, when he was only six years old, he was granted the titles Duke of Richmond and Somerset—an unprecedented move for an illegitimate royal child. These were not honorary appointments; they came with real land, real income, and real political visibility. He was also made Lord Admiral of England and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. These were roles traditionally held by the heir to the throne.
At the time, Princess Mary was the only legitimate child that Henry VIII had—but she was a girl, and in the Tudor world, that mattered deeply. Henry had no son to carry the dynasty forward. In FitzRoy, he saw proof that he could father a healthy male heir—just not, it seemed, with Queen Katherine.
The fact that FitzRoy was illegitimate didn’t remove him from Henry’s consideration as a potential solution. FitzRoy’s elevation caused a stir. Foreign ambassadors took note, speculating that Henry might legitimize the boy and name him heir. And indeed, there were precedents for doing just that. For example, the Beaufort family—from whom both Henry and the Tudors descended—had been legitimized bastards.
FitzRoy was given a household of his own, modeled on the structure of the royal household. He spent time at court, accompanied his father on progresses, and was widely treated as a royal prince in everything but name.
In 1533, he was married to Mary Howard, the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk. It was a high-status match, unconsummated due to his youth, but one that cemented his role in court politics.
Though Bessie Blount had given birth to him, she did not raise him. There’s little indication that she played any role in his day-to-day life. FitzRoy was a ward of the state—groomed, educated, and moved like a chess piece within Henry’s dynastic strategy. For a time, it seemed that he might be next in line to rule England.
In 1525, when he was made Duke of Richmond, ambassadors speculated that Henry was preparing to go even further—to legitimize him and declare him his heir. This wasn’t an outlandish idea. The Tudors themselves owed their claim to a line of legitimized bastards.
The Beaufort family descended from John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford. Henry VII, who valued precedent when it suited him, would have known this history well. But he never took that step. FitzRoy remained illegitimate, however princely his treatment.
There are a few likely reasons. First, declaring a bastard his heir would have required a significant break with both tradition and Parliament. Second, as long as Henry believed he might still father a legitimate son—first with Katherine, and later with Anne—he may have viewed FitzRoy as a backup rather than the solution.
Henry’s actions showed clear intention: by marrying FitzRoy into the Howard family, bringing him to court, and assigning him ceremonial authority over Ireland and the Navy, he kept the boy in public view.
Then, in 1536—just weeks after Anne’s execution and the death of Katherine of Aragon—FitzRoy fell ill, and he died that July, likely of tuberculosis. He was only 17 years old. With him, one of Henry’s most promising dynastic alternatives vanished.
After the birth of Henry FitzRoy, Bessie Blount left court entirely. This wasn’t a punishment or disgrace—it was protocol. A mistress who bore the king a child had fulfilled her role; she wasn’t expected to linger. Instead, arrangements were made to secure her future with dignity and distance.
Bessie Blunt’s Later Life and Legacy
So in 1522, three years after FitzRoy’s birth, Bessie married Gilbert Tailboys, a landowner of noble lineage. The marriage was advantageous for both parties: Gilbert gained a well-connected wife with royal associations, and Bessie gained a respectable husband, a new household, and a safe exit from court. There’s no evidence that the match was anything but amicable, and it may well have even been affectionate. The couple had at least three children together, including a son, George, who later inherited the title of Baron.
Henry VIII helped facilitate the marriage, ensuring that Bessie and Gilbert were granted lands and manors through a special act of Parliament. These grants ensured that Bessie would be financially secure for the rest of her life.
Even after the affair ended, the relationship between Bessie and the king seems to have remained cordial. She continued to receive generous New Year’s gifts from Henry—more lavish than one might expect for a former mistress who had moved on from court life. These small details suggest that Henry regarded her with some measure of respect and care—perhaps more so than many of his later partners.
Gilbert died in 1530, leaving Bessie a wealthy widow in her early thirties. She remarried not long after, this time to Edward Clinton, a rising figure at court who would later become the Earl of Lincoln. The second marriage also appears to have been stable and well-matched, producing three daughters.
Bessie died in 1539, likely in her early forties. The cause of death is not recorded, but it may have been related to childbirth. No grave survives, and she left no personal correspondence—but through her children, and especially through her royal son, she left a lasting, if quiet, mark on Tudor England.
So what happened with her other children, then, we might wonder? Well, she had a son, George, born around 1523, and he sadly died in 1540—the same year that Bessie died. Then she had another son, Robert, who became the third Baron. He also died young, around age 14, only two years after his brother. The two of them didn’t have any children—obviously, they both died very young.
Then she had a daughter, Elizabeth, who became a baroness. She inherited the barony in her own right and married twice. And there’s actually an interesting connection that comes from that. Her second marriage was to Ambrose Dudley, who was the brother of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, and Queen Elizabeth I’s favorite.
So that’s an interesting connection, because Elizabeth I was in love with Robert Dudley—and Robert Dudley was Elizabeth Tailboys’ brother-in-law. Elizabeth Tailboys was the daughter of Elizabeth Blount, who had been Elizabeth I’s father’s mistress. Everything comes full circle. Everybody’s related, everybody’s mixed together—you really do need charts to figure it all out.
She had a complex relationship with her first husband, Thomas Wymbish. There are actually records of a court case in which she successfully argued for her own title and rights independently of him. So she was an interesting one as well.
With Bessie Blount’s second marriage to Edward Clinton, she had three daughters: Bridget, Katherine, and Margaret. Bridget and Katherine both got married. Katherine actually rose into the English nobility.
Less is known about Margaret—some records suggest that she probably died young or may have remained unmarried, as there don’t seem to be any known descendants. The line seems to dry up at that point. That’s a little bit about Bessie Blount’s legitimate children.
Now, Bessie Blount’s story is quiet—but it’s not insignificant. She occupied a space that few others did: the king’s mistress, the mother of a publicly acknowledged son, and briefly, the woman who gave Henry VIII a glimpse of the male heir he so desperately wanted.
She didn’t seem to seek power. She didn’t make a dramatic exit. She never wore a crown, and her son never ruled. But for a few short years, Bessie Blount held something rarer than either: the king’s open acknowledgment. So there you go, my friend—a little bit about Bessie Blount and Henry FitzRoy.
I sometimes think about that summer of 1536 for Henry VIII and how horrible that must have been for him—especially if you can have a little bit of empathy and consider that there was part of him that had actually convinced himself that Anne Boleyn was a threat to both him and Henry FitzRoy. There are stories of him saying how lucky it was that FitzRoy had survived while being around “this witch,” who could have potentially cast spells on him and things like that.
So to lose FitzRoy just two months after executing Anne… the whole thing is just very, very sad on so many levels. And it makes you feel sorry for Henry—for like a teeny, tiny little bit of time. You just kind of think: how very sad that must have been for him, to lose the one son who had meant so much to him.
Related link:
Medieval and Tudor Mistresses: Power, Scandal, and Survival
Heather Teysko is the creator, writer, and producer of The Renaissance English History Podcast, the original Tudor history podcast, started in 2009. She's been writing about history online for over 25 years, since her first site on Colonial American history became number one in history on Yahoo in 1998. In 2019 she created Tudorcon, which is now a yearly event, in addition to writing books, and running TudorFair.com - a whimsical Tudor Merch shop.
She has been passionate about Tudor England since she first read Alison Weir's The Six Wives of Henry VIII 30 years ago, and subsequently moved to London after college to spend her time immersed in Tudor history (how exciting when she got to interview Alison for the first time!). In addition to history, she is passionate about travel, and has lived in 3 countries and 4 states (not counting her perpetual state of confusion), and her family (who help her host her YouTube channel occasionally).
