Mercy

Distressed and silent, her grief so deep that it renders her incapable of speech. Her emotional state is one of quiet devastation, her silence a form of solidarity with Johane and a reflection of her own helplessness in the face of loss.

Distressed and empathetic. Her voice carries the weight of having been present for Liz’s suffering, unable to ease her thirst or her fear. There is a quiet despair in her words, a recognition that some losses cannot be undone.

Overwhelmed by grief and guilt, Mercy’s actions are those of someone who has exhausted every option but cannot accept the outcome. Her tears are not just for the girls but for her own powerlessness in the face of their suffering. Turning away is an admission of defeat, a moment where she can no longer bear witness to the tragedy unfolding.

Genuinely pleased by Gregory’s return, contributing to the overall warmth of the scene, though her focus remains on the practical and emotional needs of the household.

Attentive and reserved, with a sense of loyalty to the household’s stability. Her emotional state reflects her role as a steady presence amid the political and social maneuvering.

Neutral and attentive, absorbing the household’s interactions without judgment or participation

Touched and playful—her reaction to Henry’s acknowledgment of her grief is genuine, but her playful teasing of the king later in the scene reflects her ability to navigate the tension with humor and grace.

Emotional and observant, her grief over her sister’s loss surfacing as Henry acknowledges it. She is the most honest voice in the room, calling attention to the disconnect between Holbein’s portrait and Cromwell’s true self.

Emotionally moved by the mention of her sister’s death but quickly shifts to playful banter to ease the tension. Her tears and laughter reveal the household’s ability to balance grief and resilience in the face of Henry’s visit.