The king takes her hand and leads her to one of the salons. Anne takes in the palace like it's her first time there, even though it's been only a few days. Compared to the modesty of the convent, the grandness strikes her.
The king, if he notices, doesn't comment on it. He speaks earnestly and smiles often. Anne replies as best she can without seeming distracted. Louis takes it as shock. She remembers, though, to make a point of asking the king to grant the convent at which she stayed a sum of money that will cover the cost of damages. He is more than willing to oblige.
The cardinal enters presently to pull Louis away, for he must attend to matters of the state as of now. He appears apologetic. Louis is annoyed, but turns a gentler face to Anne, whose hand he kisses. He promises to see her again at the dinner hour, and husband and wife take their leave of each other, Louis with the cardinal and Anne with her ladies.
She spends the rest of her day in her apartments. Her ladies are wonderfully chatty, saving her from having to make much conversation herself. She doesn't mean to be so reticent, but the escapade has sobered her, in some ways. It has made her wary. Best not to show it more than she must, though, and Anne forces herself into the talk when she can.
Towards evening, she rises with her ladies to be dressed for dinner. The heavy cloths are pulled over her head until she stands in her chemise and corset only. Another, more formal gown is draped on her in its layers, and Anne stands with her arms outstretched so her ladies and make all the ties and cinchings. They brush out her hair and re-coil it on her head.
The food is rich, the wine fine. King and queen's attendants stand by, along with other members of court, always attentive but saying nothing. In the presence of so many more, Anne makes more an effort to appear happy, instead of sober. Louis is blissfully ignorant of her morose attitude; she has become skilled at disguising her emotions when at court. But she has been not as successful with herself. The thought of Aramis the musketeers lingers in her mind, and she cannot help the sense of betrayal that rises in her heart. She has been lucky to never hear of any mistresses of the king's; indeed, she believes he has been faithful to her in that regard. That alone, she should be thankful for. Few queens in history have been able to trust their husbands. When she married, her mother warned her of such dalliances, and to have none of them come to fruition was more than Anne ever had expected. To be the guilty one...it is not a comfortable realization.
Before long, Anne is rising from her seat, and once again she and Louis take to their different paths. He does not ask her if he might visit her that night, which Anne takes into stride. She is not so daft to think that he is not interested or has forgotten, though. Perhaps he thinks he will give her a night to come to terms with being back home, after her ordeal. Whatever the reason, Anne prepares herself for the request that she is sure would be coming.
And come it does, the next day. He is discreet about it, as is his usual manner, pulling her aside to make his request. Anne nods, and he smiles, not quite his usual grin. They retire to their apartments to ready themselves. The ladies unpin her hair, letting it fall lightly down the back of her neck. Anne welcomes the feel her nightgown, floaty and light compared to her normal dresses. The covers of the bed are folded back to the end, and Anne settles herself in the middle to wait.
The doors of the chamber burst open with a loud start. An attendant holding a candelabra enters first, then the king, and lastly one more attendant. Louis stops about halfway in the room and scans the others standing by. "That'll be all," he says, his voice carrying in the large room. His attendants put his things down and bow; the ladies-in-waiting curtsy as well and exit. He waits until the doors have been secured again and then reaches for the candelabra. Anne sees the wisps of smoke before she closed her eyes.
The night is successful, or at least Louis seems to believe so. Anne is less sure and still goes to church to pray for a son. She does not wish to fail at her role one more time, not when Louis's affections have seemed to turn towards her favor. When she misses her bleeding, she nearly faints, and her ladies have to catch her. A child, she thinks. But whose?
Even Anne herself cannot be certain one way or another. But for it to be Louis's, after ten years, it would quite for sure be a miracle. He would never be the wiser, though.
She chooses her moment to reveal it to her husband well, when it is late at night and no on else is near to be privy to the news. In the dimness of corridor that separates their apartments, she sees his face break into genuine joy in the candlelight. He clasps her hands and kisses them a thousand times, and then praises God profusely for blessing them.
Like her, though, he bides his time. He waits to make the announcement to court. No one else knows, except Anne's ladies-in-waiting, without all of whom she could not get along, having to manage her symptoms as best she can while also going about her usual duties. In their private hours, the king is exceedingly fond and tender towards her. He relieves her from some of her burdens and is anxious to know whether he is wearing her out by his near-constant presence, and if she is he would be eager to accommodate her needs. In public, however, he is just as professional as before. She wonders how long he will continue on like this before he decides it's time.
Standing where Richelieu cannot see her, she hears his confession. He is in a position of pure deference when she comes out from the wall, crouched on the ground and head low. Anne warns him with her steeliest tones and takes great delight, in particular, of informing the cardinal of her own influence in court.
Immediately after, she seeks out her husband and tells him to pardon Mellendorf, whom she realizes now was framed by the cardinal's hand. Louis is perplexed as to why she would request such a matter, but she insists. Louis looks at her for a moment and then laughs and covers her hands with his.
"Of course," he says, "for my wife."
Richelieu is genuinely taken aback when Louis declares Anne to be with child. Anne smiles at him with laced satisfaction, and again after she speaks briefly with Aramis. She is no longer worried: the cardinal will not dare to speak up against her now, not when they both know what offense it would cause the king, and that she has spared him the imaginable. Nor will Aramis ever say the truth.
The mood of the palace is jubilant everyday now, wherever the king and queen are especially. Louis loves to indulge in gifts of all sorts of splendor for Anne. She is in sudden possession of jewels and gowns and horses. No one could be happier than he; this much is obvious to all at court. For this, Anne is grateful.