The sea breeze jostled my beaded hem and sent a shiver up my spine. It was a crisp morning and the ship was due a while ago. Our entourage was small and composed entirely of adults except for my six year old son. The wait and lack of amusement made him antsy. His father's mistress had suggested we bring the king's bastard as company, my glare sent the intended message and the bastard stayed at home. But Francis was getting fidgety…
"Darling, where is your cloak? For heaven's sake put on your boots on and get away from the water!"
My sweet boy shot me a devious grin, but obeyed. His smile was quickly replaced with a furrowed brow as he nervously glanced out to sea. I placed my hand on his tensed shoulder.
"Did you think you would swim out to meet her ship or were you planning on joining up with pirates?" I asked him, tickling his neck with my fingertips.
His voice burst forth with that elusive childhood giggle that vanishes all at once and far too quickly. I knelt and pulled him in for a hug. Of late he had begun to fight hugs, but just now his mind was preoccupied. I whispered as I placed a kiss on his temple that all would be well and felt him respond by bouncing one of my windblown ringlets.
The ship seemed to materialize before our eyes, looming through the wall of mist into view.
As Mary stepped forward, surrounded by her guards and lady's maids, she smiled revealing a missing front tooth. Francis seemed to hesitate for a moment and then smiled and squeezed his eyes closed tightly. He later confessed that Bash had advised him on how to make his bride-to-be swoon by winking at her, which, in his nervousness, he failed to master. Mary glanced around; she was as nervous and confused as Francis. I stepped forward and knelt before the Scottish queen.
"Hello, Mary, I'm Catherine. I know you have had a very long journey, but you're safe now and you are very welcome here." At this she stepped forward and hugged my neck impulsively.
On the ride home, Mary tried various subjects in her attempt to strike up a conversation with my son. He just stared at his feet with his mouth hanging open.
"What is your favourite colour? Mine is purple."
*crickets*
"I like your boots! Do you ride?"
Still nothing
"I heard you have a sister named Elisabeth, I can't wait to meet her."
When he failed again to respond, I had to step in, "I fear my son is a bit shy today, but I am sure he will regain his powers of speech soon. Yes, my daughter Elisabeth is near your age and she has been talking of your arrival for months."
Mary beamed up at me and gave up on coaxing Francis into speaking. After a few minutes she yawned and her head started to bob. I offered my lap for her to lay her head upon and she gratefully consented. Within minutes the smooth movements of the carriage lulled her into a sound sleep. Francis removed his cloak and tucked it gently over her. I smiled as he gazed at her sleeping face.
That evening as Mary emerged at the top of the staircase, bathed and dressed for dinner in a pale blue gown, I heard my son inhale sharply.
She gracefully descended and as we turned to go into the hall I heard Francis whisper, "Blue."
Mary looked up, shocked that he could actually speak. "Wha…?"
"Blue is my very favourite colour," he said, stealing a shy glance at his betrothed.
Her smile was radiant, missing tooth or not. That was when I knew that they were good match, that they could be happy together.