I am the diamond you left in the dust
I am the future you lost in the past
Seems like I never compared
Wouldn't notice if I disappeared
Cecily Howard, once King Francis's sweetheart, his Queen, but now a Duchess, entered the room on her husband's arm. Despite themselves, the other courtiers in the room all turned to look as the herald announced, "The Duke and Duchess of Burgundy!"
Cecily stumbled, caught at Bash's's arm.
"Head up. I've got you. Head up. Everyone wants to know how you'll react to his new Queen. You can't give them the satisfaction of seeing you weak. You can't."
Cecily nodded; schooled her face to remain unreadable. Years at Court, first at England, then at France, had made her into an experienced courtier. She had an unpenetrable poker face. But she couldn't help the pain that flashed in her eyes as the herald announced, "Their Majesties King Francis, Queen Lola and His Highness the Dauphin Jean-Phillipe"
You stole the love that I saved for myself
And I watched you give it to somebody else
But these scars no longer I hide
I found the light you shut inside
Couldn't love me if you tried
Her former lover, her sovereign Lord walked past her, dandling his new heir in his arms. The child was strong and lusty. Francis's eyes, once so blue and sorrowful, were laughing as they watched the child before flicking up to scan the room. They were shining with pride. With love.
Cecily wanted to smile at the obvious love in his eyes, but one thing stopped her. It wasn't directed at her. The child in His Majesty's arms wasn't Cecily's son. Though it could have been, it wasn't. Instead, Lola walked at Francis de Valois's side and it was her son, Jean Phillipe De Valois, in his strong, protective hold.
Cecily curtsied silently as the Royal Family passed her, but as she rose, she found her eyes catching the King's. Unable to stop herself, she let her thoughts, "That could be me. It could be our son in your arms, Francis," flood on to her face.
He hesitated, froze there with the child in his arms. Scarcely daring to breathe, Cecily took a single step forward.
It seemed to her that time was standing still, that everyone was watching her with bated breath as they used to, waiting for her to do something. And so she stepped forward, stretching out a hand to the King.
But she'd done the wrong thing. As soon as she moved, the King shook himself. He glanced from Cecily to his son and back again. He tightened one arm around the child and then slipped his free hand around the Queen's waist. He drew her close and whispered something into her ear; something that made her laugh. He squeezed her gently and led her up to the thrones on the dais. He could not have turned his back on Cecily any more clearly.
Am I still not good enough?
Am I still not worth that much?
I'm sorry for the way my life turned out
Sorry for the smile I'm wearing now
Guess I'm still not good enough
Cecily stood there, cheeks flushing scarlet. How could she have been such a fool? How could she have let him bewitch her again? She knew his heart lay with Lola now. She knew. Yet she'd still let him win her; let herself betray Bash with a single look.
Bash. Bash who even now was coming up behind her. Bash, who was wrapping an arm around her, was trying his hardest to comfort her. Squeezing her eyes shut against the tears, she let him hold her; soothe her with his touch. He was so good to her. So very very good. Why couldn't she love him the way she loved the King? Why?
"Lady Burgundy? Your Grace?"
Oh God. The Queen was calling her. Pasting a shaky smile on her face, Cecily approached the dais on wobbly legs.
"Your Majesty?"
"Let's not beat about the bush. I know this must be difficult for you; seeing me at the King's side like this."
The Queen's voice was little more than a whisper. However, Cecily didn't trust hers at all. Nor did she know what to say. Thus, staying silent seemed to be the best course.
After a few moments, the Queen went on, "He does care for you, you know. His Majesty. More than anything, he cares for your children. His children. He knows how hard it is on a child to lose their mother at far too young an age. He would not make your children go through that pain. Not for the world. So he has asked me to offer your husband to host their household at one of his country houses. Do you accept, Lady Burgundy?"
Ceccily hesitated, struggling to contain the resentment that was flaring in her heart. None of this was truly Lola's fault, she reminded herself. Lola had just been a pawn in her family's dynastic games. A pawn who'd fallen hopelessly head over heels in love with the King.
Just as Cecily herself had been.
It wasn't Lola's fault. Nor was it Lola's fault that she'd been lucky enough to have the King offer her marriage and then stand by her. Given how capricious the King could be, that was nothing more than sheer good fortune. Cecily couldn't begrudge her good fortune.
Does it burn
Knowing I used all the pain?
Does it hurt
Knowing you're fuel to my flame?
Don't look back
Don't need your regrets
Thank God you left my love behind
Couldn't change me if you tried
But given how capricious the King was, it could have so easily been Cecily in her place. Cecily could have stayed Cecily, Queen of France. Her children had been princes and princesses. She could have been supervising her children's household as Queen of France, not merely as Duchess of Burgundy. And after everything; everything she'd done for Francis De Valois of France, that was what stung most of all.
After all, hadn't she been the one to pull him out of his gloom? Hadn't she been the one who'd persuaded him to truly throw off the shackles of mourning for his late wife, Queen Mary? Hadn't she been the one who'd persuaded him that life was worth living again?
Of course she had.
"Come on, Francis! Come in with me!" she begged him, flashing him his favourite half-smile as she waded into the shallows of the lake, lifting her skirts high to try to keep them somewhat dry.
"Mary wouldn't like it. She'd say it was beneath me as a King and a widower." Stifling a sigh, Cecily splashed out of the water and went around behind him, knowing he needed careful handling when he got melancholy like this.
"Mary loved you, Francis. And you loved her. I'm not denying that. But that doesn't mean you have to give up all fun forever. Part of loving someone is wanting them to be happy. Mary would want you to be happy. So come on. Don't just be a King, be a man too. Be a man and play with your sweetheart. Please?"
"Are you my sweetheart, Cecily?" His voice sounded worryingly insecure. Cecily chuckled lowly and ruffled his hair.
"You know I am, Francis. You know I am. Now catch me."
Yes, Cecily told herself, she had most definitely brought the King back to life in a way that not even his siblings — legitimate and illegitimate —had been able to do. In doing so, she had given France back her King.
And how had she been repaid?
By being treated as only a mistress. She gave him children, and, yet, she was only a Duchess. She should've been Queen. Her children should have been the princes and princesses of France instead of just bastards.
She'd been repaid by having every ambitious family in France flaunt their daughters, their sisters, under his nose. She'd been repaid by having every noble man in France flaunt their female relatives in front of him. By having one of them, Lola, ordinary Lola, push her aside and mount the vacant throne in her place.
Am I still not good enough?
Am I still not worth that much?
I'm sorry for the way my life turned out
Sorry for the smile I'm wearing now
Guess I'm still not good enough
The trouble was, Cecily mused, Lola was so innocent that one couldn't even hate her for it. Especially not when one saw how happy she'd made the King. But it wasn't just the King on her mind.
While King Francis had been mourning for his wife, Cecily had been queen in all but name. She'd brought Princesse Marie back into the fold of the Royal Family. Suddenly, memories of then came to her mind.
How ecstatic Francis had been following the birth of their first child. His delight when each of their children was born. For years she'd been de facto Queen. Now, she was a Duchess. She was content with her life, most times, she was content with her husband and children. But having to take the privilege of raising her children as a gift from her one-time rival still rankled. Couldn't the King at least have had the grace to tell her of the present himself? Surely, after everything she'd done – both for him and the country – he owed her that much? Surely?
"Lady Burgundy?"
To her horror, Cecily suddenly realised that the Queen was still waiting for her answer. Flushing an even deeper shade of red than before, she stuttered out, "I – I – Thank – Thank You, Your Majesty. I am most – most grateful."
Thankfully, at that moment, the herald cried "Her Highness the Princess Marie!"
She knew she shouldn't; knew it would be painful, but she still couldn't stop herself. She watched the twelve year old Princess Marie trott happily towards her father. The little girl dropped into a curtsy as she reached the thrones, but, with her brother now safely ensconced on his stepmother's lap, she was soon swept up into her father's arms.
"Marie, my ruby."
"Papa!" Princess Marie wrapped her arms briefly around her father's neck, but was soon stretching for the woman she called her mother. But this time, it wasn't the Queen who was called.
It was her.
"Mama!"
Cecily couldn't take any more. With a strangled cry, she turned and forced her way out of the room. The tears started falling and nothing she did could hold them back.
Release your curse
'Cause I know my worth
Those wounds you made are gone
You ain't seen nothing yet
Your love wore thin
And I never win
You want the best
So sorry that's clearly not me
This is all I can be
"I brought Marie back to Court. I insisted he visited her and my niece. I brought them back together, he shouldn't have abandoned me! He couldn't have! I should have realised that he wasn't just joking when he first started talking of marriage. If I had, maybe I'd be Queen now! Maybe my children would be his Princes and Princesses! Maybe…If…"
"You couldn't have known. He was so mixed-up in himself. No one knew what he was going to do. You can't blame yourself."
Bash had come after her. He'd pulled her into his arms and was letting her sob into his shoulder. He was soothing her the way she had once soothed the King.
"Yes I can! Yes I can! I didn't fight for him! I was caught up in my children, yet I still did what my cousin didn't; I brought Mary back. I should be Queen!"
"Aye, maybe. But then we'd never have met and that would be a real shame, because I love you, Cecily Howard. You're beautiful and kind and everything a man could want. I love you."
"You're so sweet, Bash," Cecily sniffed. She leaned back and caressed his cheek. She couldn't quite bring herself to return the sentiment, but at least touching his cheek, intimate gesture though it was, didn't feel unnatural. At least she could lean in and return his tender kiss without having to close her eyes and pretend he was the King.
It wasn't perfect. It was far from perfect.
But it was a start.
Am I still not good enough?
Am I still not worth that much?
I'm sorry for the way my life turned out
Sorry for the smile I'm wearing now
Guess I'm still not good enough