She Who Laughs Last
She sat by her window, her book in her hand. Her eyes glazed over the words, and she let her focus shift beyond them to the window. She felt tense and melancholy today, a strange mixture that weighed heavy on her. It was a familiar feeling to Catherine, and she had learned long ago that it would come and go. She was tired of her position. Not as Queen of France, but in terms of her husband. Sick to death of Henry and his whores. She did her best to let his choices wash off her, but try as she might, it would keep coming back to hurt her again and again. She could not escape the predicament she was in, constantly seeing and experiencing her husband choosing – and publicly preferring – other women over her. Even now, Diane, who had been at the country house for a while, was on her way back to the castle. Henry had visited Catherine's chambers a few times while she had been gone, and each time Catherine would savour every moment she had with her husband in her bed. She tried not to let Henry see how needy she felt towards him, and how much she wanted him. She acted calm and collected, and tried to seem as though she was always available, willing to be a good wife to him when he needed her. Showing him her vulnerability would hurt her more the next time he betrayed her, which he most certainly would do. She knew that he also visited another woman besides her, while Diane was away. But Diane – she shuddered hatefully – that parasite! She was the one who had stolen her husband's heart. Catherine knew she could never compare to Diane. Years upon years of heartache, jealousy and bitterness had caused scars that would always ache, like old wounds that hurt when the weather changed. She would always have to carry that pain with her, because she loved her husband so fiercely, so deeply. The fact that he betrayed her and angered her didn't seem to make any difference. She could not control her heart.
The door opened with a sudden clatter as her lady Charlotte burst in, and Catherine jumped, dropping her book and clutching her hand to her chest in shock.
"What on earth are you doing, bursting in so clumsily like that?!" she chastised her, as Charlotte closed the door behind her hastily.
"I'm so sorry, your Grace, I didn't mean to startle you," she apologised breathlessly, and hurried to Catherine's side. "I bring news!"
Catherine lifted her chin, looking down her nose a little at the girl. She steadied herself with a deep breath, and gave her a nod to continue, before bending to pick up her book.
"There's been an accident! Lady Diane has been killed!"
Catherine, bent double to the floor as she reached for her book, lost her footing and stumbled backwards into the chair. Charlotte stepped forward quickly to help her, and Catherine thrust her head directly into Charlotte's knee. After a brief scuffle, Charlotte managed to right her Queen and the two stood there, Charlotte limping slightly and Catherine with her palm pressed to her forehead, but both with wide eyes.
"WHAT?!" Catherine uttered in astonishment. "H-How?! Is it – can you be sure that it's true?"
Charlotte was nodding furiously. "Her carriage ran too close to the edge of the path near the ravine. The carriage turned and the door opened, apparently. Lady Diane fell to her death."
Catherine stared at her, breathless, one hand splayed over her stomach, the other at her throat. "And – and her death was… confirmed?"
"Yes, your Majesty." The girl nodded again. "I heard the scene was… not pretty. The King has already set off with guards to retrieve her body for burial."
The Queen turned slowly towards the window in disbelief. She had no words, nothing that could express her feelings right at this moment. She didn't even know how to respond to Charlotte, but she didn't want to dismiss her, not yet. There would be more questions for her once she found her voice again.
But of course, this was a terrible tragedy, she tried to convince herself, to counter the guilty conscience over her rising elation. Poor Bash, his mother gone. Poor Henry. She shook her head, trying again with her herself. Poor Henry… It was no good. As much as she loved the man, she could not feel sorry for him. Her feelings grew so uncontainable that she hadn't noticed she was gasping, panting almost, leaning her hand onto the cold stone wall beside the window.
"Your Grace?" Charlotte took a step towards her, concerned.
"No, it's fine Charlotte, really." Catherine closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, attempting to look troubled by the news. Her hands shook, which helped her impression. Perhaps if she could just go through the details of the accident, it would shock her more?
"So, tell me again, Charlotte. The carriage was en route to the castle? And the path? It was unstable?"
"Not from what they have reported, your Majesty. There was a witness who said that the carriage was driving steadily, but that it was rather bad luck."
"Bad luck?"
"Yes. A stone in the path caught the edge of the wheel and jolted the carriage to the side. And then the horses were startled and veered too close to the edge." Catherine's hand flew to cover her mouth as Charlotte continued. "The back wheel slipped over the edge and the carriage tipped. The witness said that the door opened suddenly, and he saw a woman fall out down the ravine."
Catherine knew she shouldn't, but it was too much to hold in. She began to laugh. The kind of laughter that begins under your ribcage and shakes your shoulders and won't stop to allow you to breathe. She leaned again on the wall for support.
"Your Grace!" Charlotte looked astonished and, though Catherine would never hold it against her, a little disapproving. Straightening a little, Catherine waved at her dismissively and tried to pull herself together.
"So – to clarify," Catherine's voice wavered dangerously as she tried her best to control it. "The carriage rolled along bearing my husband's whore to him, and suddenly," she began to chuckle, "the wheel hit a s-stone…." She clutched the wall with her fingers, her ribs squeezing all the air out of her with a wheezing laugh that wouldn't stop. Gasping, she straightened and tried again. "Hit a stone, and the horses - " the word reared much as the actual horses must have done, into a high pitched wail of a laugh, as Catherine slumped helplessly into her chair, completely giving herself over to waves of laughter that hurt and set her free all at once. When she could breathe again for a moment, she waved her hand at the stunned girl in front of her, and rasped, "My handkerchief, Charlotte, please!"
After she had blown her nose and wiped her eyes, she sat back a moment. "Oh my Lord," she gasped, "Oh my Lord! What a - " she cleared her throat, trying a deeper and more sombre tone of voice. "What a terrible thing to happen." There was a slightly awkward pause, Charlotte staying silent, and Catherine knowing she needed to speak again or at least make eye contact, but knowing that if she spoke she would be overtaken with another wave of hysterics. She lifted her eyes slowly, and when they met Charlotte's wide brown eyes, she gave a snort that surprised even herself and dissolved into giggles again.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she chuckled as her shoulders shook. "I know it's dreadful of me because the old shrew has fallen down a cliff - " she broke off to laugh spasmodically, "but – oh Lord! – the stone and the horses – oh Charlotte, horses are my favourite animals, did I ever tell you how much I love horses? Yes, they are…" She leaned back in her chair pressing her hand to her chest to try and control her laughter, as Charlotte nodded rather blankly in response. "And then the blessed carriage tipping ov- " - a very undignified snort of hysteria - "tip- tipping o- ov- "
Charlotte began to worry that her Queen might require a change of outfit or the chamber pot at this rate, as she watched her bend double so that her head was almost between her knees as she laughed until there was no air left in her lungs, gasping and hiccupping for air. She slapped at her knee and tried to sit up.
"Oh how I wish I had been there!" she wept with mirth, wiping her face with her handkerchief. "To see the door swing open and the whore fall out!" She slapped both her knees now, tears coursing down her face. "Oh, but my dear!" Catherine suddenly recovered herself, sniffling and gasping, serious all of a sudden. "What of the driver?! Did he survive?"
"Yes, he managed to jump down and haul the horses so that they dragged the carriage away from the edge."
"Henry – Henry will kill him for this!" Now Catherine really did look shocked.
"The witness said that the driver did everything he could," Charlotte reassured her. "The King seemed glad to hear that, at least. I think he knows that nobody was at fault."
Catherine reached out and clutched at the girl's sleeve. Her eyes were slightly swollen, and shiny from laughing, and Charlotte thought she may have gone quite mad. "You must see that he is brought to me at once!" she urged. "I shall grant him an enormous estate, and a ridiculous amount of gold – he shall live a life of luxury!" And she began laugh again, clutching herself across the middle as though her muscles were tiring.
"Your Grace, I - " Charlotte began doubtfully, but Catherine stood tall again, wiping her face once more and taking a steadying breath, before putting a calm hand on the girl's shoulder.
"Charlotte, it goes without saying that this… conversation, or its tone, is to be shared with no-one. Is that clear?"
"Yes, your Majesty, of course." Charlotte was relieved to see the Queen returning to her normal self.
"I'm not heartless. Of course this is a tragic event. But it means something very different to me. After all this time…" she trailed off, her eyes shining with another type of emotion.
"I understand completely," whispered her lady. "You can be assured of my discretion."
Catherine nodded gratefully. "Thank you. Please keep me informed of the King's return. I want to know before he arrives, so that I may be ready for him."
As Charlotte left the room, Catherine turned back to the window, trying to process what she had heard. It was too much, too much to believe it could possibly have happened. Diane, gone. For good! Yes, laughter had been the way to express her feelings – her joy and her elation at having a chance for her husband to see her again, without his favourite in the way. The possibility swelled in her mind, forcing an unexpected wave of emotion against her already battered ribs, and as she thought of the prospect of life without Diane always overshadowing her marriage, she leaned against the window casing, sobbing with the relief that washed over her.