Chapter 25 – The Truth about Danielle

The long corridors of the second floor of the Château de Montpensier were busy with the coming and going of maids and servants carrying linens, trays of food, kettles of boiling water and medicinal infusions. At the end of the southern corridor, the two magnificent apartments occupied by the royal family were specially safeguarded. The King and Queen's apartment, right across the prince's, was guarded by both Royal and Ducal guards, and additional men were guarding the door of the prince's apartment day and night. Only the most trusted servants were allowed in the prince's suite, always supervised by the duke's chamberlain.

Henri was lying in a large canopied bed suited for a prince. He was in great pain, and even though he was drifting in and out of consciousness he was aware of the familiar faces surrounding him: the King, the Queen, Montmorency, Dr. Fernel, the Archbishop of Reims, and Captain Laurent; even Duke Philippe and Duchesse Eleonora were visiting him. However, these faces did not bring him the comfort he sought, for the one he really wanted to see, Danielle, was not present. He kept asking for Danielle, but all they said was, 'you will see her later.' He wasn't getting the answer he wanted. He wanted to know where she was. He knew she had been injured. How was she? Was she alive? Was everyone lying to him? He wanted Danielle here, by his side, now.

Though he regained consciousness, his life was still in danger. He had bled heavily and had now developed a fever, and the doctors were worried about he getting worse. His side wound had needed additional sutures, and every stitch had caused him excruciating pain. Dr. Fernel warned against having the prince sedated with a potent mix of medicinal herbs because it could also be poisonous. Instead, he placed a soporific sponge on Henri's face soaked in the juices of mulberry, flax, mandragora leaves and hemlock to provide him with some relief. But nothing seemed to ease the pain. The vapors from the sponge just made him lethargic, and he drifted in and out of an uncomfortable, sluggish sleep. Eventually, Dr. Fernel gave him tea with a bit of a diluted tincture of opium to relieve the pain, and Henri was able to fall asleep. Montmorency and Laurent then took turns to stay with him, giving the King and Queen the opportunity to rest.

A couple of hours later, however, Henri woke up feverish and shivering. He had fits of delirium and was in a general state of confusion. Dr. Fernel came back to the room, afraid that this relapse could be fatal. He applied cold compresses and asked his assistant to wash the prince with alcohol to lower the fever, then removed all of the prince's clothing and blankets to cool him down. With the help of his assistant, Dr. Fernel was then able to restrain the prince who was now convulsing, to prevent him from reopening his wounds and hurting himself. This time, the doctor ordered a strong camomile infusion laced with a potent opium sedative, and forced Henri to drink it. He hoped his remedies will calm the prince down. About fifteen minutes after taking the sedative, Henri felt calmer. His delirium had passed, and although the throbbing pain of his wounds made him uncomfortable, he was no longer agitated. The convulsing episode had left him exhausted, and he concentrated on breathing to manage the pain. Dr. Fernel was still worried though, as the fever was persistent.

The King and Queen were called back into the room, as the state of the prince had deteriorated. The Archbishop of Reims also came into the room with the sacred oils, and convinced the reluctant King to let him administer the last sacrament to the prince. The Queen was now sobbing in the arms of the King, who himself was struggling to remain calm. The archbishop then anointed the prince with the oils and said his prayers, and Henri asked to be left alone with his parents. When everyone left the room, he asked the King and Queen to come closer. The Queen sat on the bed and caressed her son's face. Henri stayed silent for a moment. He summoned the little strength he had left and spoke very softly.

"Mother, father, please don't cry. I know I may die, but I'll fight for my life. I want to live... I want to marry Danielle. I hope God will grant me this wish and the gift of life, because I promised him to be a good son, a good prince and a good husband."

"Oh Henri," the Queen kissed her son with tears in her eyes. "I pray God will hear us all!"

"Be strong son. If you fight really hard, if you decide to live, God will hear you," the King said, to convince himself.

"Then I will live. I've just made my decision!" Henri half smiled, full of conviction. Then, when his parents left, he asked for a musician and the duke send him a lute player under his employ. Henri close his eyes and concentrated on listening, as the music distracted him from the pain.

Upstairs, the Duchesse Louise and her daughter Suzanne sat by Danielle's bed as Dr. Rossi cleaned her chest wound. She was weeping and Louise and Suzanne tried to offer solace, but she would take none. Dr. Rossi continued to treat her, noting that her wounds were healing rapidly. He again reminded Danielle to eat the puree prepared for her and drink plenty of broth. Duchesse Louise tried feeding her, to no avail, and Suzanne tried getting her to drink tea, but she rejected it as well. She was convinced that Henri was dying or had died, but no one wanted to tell her the truth. She was inconsolable. The doctor gave her a soothing potion and within minutes she calmed down and relaxed.

Dr. Fernel also came to visit her after tending to the prince. He had been fond of Danielle since the time he treated her in Hautefort. He tried to convince her to eat. Danielle was no longer crying; she was calm, but she felt no desire to eat. It is my fault, she kept saying to herself, and the guilt left her grief-stricken and unable to eat or drink anything.

Because she kept asking about Henri, Dr. Fernel and Duchesse Louise told her that the prince had been injured, but he was recovering nicely. It didn't seem to work. She wanted to see him; she needed to convince herself that they were not lying to her. Dr. Fernel promised her he would take her to him if she would agree to drink some warm broth, eat a little and sleep for at least an hour. After assurances from the doctor, Danielle ate a bit of the puree and drank the broth, to which the doctor added a sedative, and she finally fell asleep.

Giancarlo then came to relieve Duchesse Louise and watch over Danielle. He stayed with her the rest of the morning. Later in the afternoon, Danielle woke up feeling somewhat better. Dr. Fernel came to see her and as promised, he walked her downstairs to the prince's chamber.

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Duke Philippe de Bourbon-Montpensier was preoccupied. Sitting alone in a couch in his private library he pondered the situation, which was becoming rather complicated. Two days after the ordeal, thanks to the medical attention provided by the doctors, Danielle's wounds were healing well. She was better, but the prince was not, on the contrary, he seemed to be getting worse. He had lost too much blood and had become so weak that he could barely stay awake. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness, and Dr. Fernel was struggling to control his fever.

"It is imperative that the prince be provided with the best possible care and comfort," the duke said to his staff, distraught. "France cannot lose its prince, not under my roof."

The investigation had not revealed a culprit or a motive yet, and the duke was concerned not only about Prince Henri's life, but also about the King blaming Danielle for the prince's disastrous encounter with his assailants. The duke was also concerned about Danielle and Henri's expectations. He had promised the prince that he would give him permission to visit Danielle in Montpensier if he managed to obtain the consent of the King. That had been disingenuous, for deep inside, the duke didn't believe the King would ever give his approval. He had been greatly surprised when the King allowed the prince to come to Montpensier.

The debate in his head raged on between his doubts about the King's intentions and his artful promise to the prince and therefore, to Danielle, and also the imprudence of entertaining the idea of a marriage. 'Honestly, a mere visit doesn't mean that the King consented to a courtship,' he kept saying to himself.

If someone had been watching the duke's facial expressions they may have thought he was going mad; he wasn't being very discreet with his internal conversation: 'And even if the King would have, at any time, considered such an engagement, this attack would have definitely made him change his mind.'

Duke Philippe continued his internal deliberations. He had allowed this visit because he considered the chances of an engagement slim, but now that the Royal family was here, he had his doubts. He liked the prince, but he was uncertain what the King had in mind, or what was best for Danielle. He found himself at the crossroads as he considered the issues at stake.

'Assuming that the King allows his heir to pay court to Danielle, he still would not go as far as to allow a marriage,' Duke Philippe told himself. He knew that the King favored a marriage to a foreign princess. In fact, the King had been clear with him about his expectations for the prince to enter into a beneficial dynastic alliance, and that did not include an alliance between the House of Bourbon and the royal House of Valois, two houses with conflicting family history and ongoing rivalry.

In reality, Philippe was trying to convince himself that this marriage Danielle was dreaming about was totally impossible. For if the King had entertained the possibility of a marriage, the duke would be forced to reveal Danielle's true lineage, as he could not implicitly lie to the King of France in a marriage contract.

The duke was anxious; he worried about how his family might respond. What would Eleonora do? If I said no, well, she will object, for sure. She would do anything to see Danielle happy. She is a true romantic and believes in the prince's love. Louise, on the other hand, has always been suspicious of the Royals, she thinks the prince is not good enough for Danielle, so in her I'd have a supporter.

Either way, the situation was delicate; he would have to have an audience with the King. But before that, he needed to have a conversation with Danielle—the time had come to speak with Danielle about her Bourbon lineage.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Enter." The duke answered, knowing it would probably be his sister Louise.

Duchesse Louise entered the library and sat next to Philippe.

"Brother, we need to talk to Danielle, and soon."

"Yes, I was just thinking about that. I'll do it today. I do fear her reaction, though."

"Why? Danielle is a very smart and sensible young woman. She will understand that we needed to protect her, and revealing her true heritage earlier may have put her life in danger." Duchesse Louise spoke with conviction.

"Louise, sister, she adored Auguste. He was all she knew as a father, and she lost him so young," he sighed. "But I hope you are right." The duke felt suddenly tired. He was weary of keeping secrets. "We also need to speak with the King. Grand Master Montmorency seems to know quite a lot about Danielle's background. He is the King's Constable, so it did not surprise me that he is the one who has put effort into finding out details about our family and Danielle. He spoke to me this morning. He has not told the King yet, but he said he cannot keep secrets from His Majesty any longer."

"That is understandable."

"He asked me to speak with the King as soon as possible, so that the future of Henri and Danielle, and of France for that matter, could be decided." He paused, pensive. "How mistaken I was thinking she would marry Giancarlo!"

"You perfectly know that Danielle's destiny is to marry a prince. I would have preferred an Italian or German prince, but it seems that our Dauphin snatched her."

"Yes. They love each other. But I know the King will not take well the fact that Danielle is Charles' daughter."

"That is right, but the King must know that if not for our families disagreements, Danielle's lineage makes her not only a suitable bride, but the ideal dynastic liaison. Our two noble houses will become one to protect France from future succession challenges," Duchesse Louise strongly asserted.

"Who would have thought this was how we revealed Danielle's birth?"

"Let us do this together, brother. Should we call Eleonora to join us as well?"

"Of course. She would not forgive me if I do not include her in this important conversation. She understands Danielle better than we do, and she will be her best support."

"Very well then. We should meet in Danielle's apartment. I'll go first to see if she is awake. She was already feeling better when I visited her earlier this morning."

Louise got up and walked to the door. "I'll wait for you there," she said without turning as she exited the library.

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The apartment occupied by Henri was properly secluded at the end of the second floor southern corridor. This was a very large state apartment that, as the one occupied by the King and Queen, was only used for royalty, or important foreign dignitaries and the high nobility. In fact, Gilbert de Bourbon, the duke's father, had once hosted King Louis XII of France and Anne de Bretagne in these rooms. The apartment had a vestibule, a drawing room and a formal sitting room with high windows overlooking the southern gardens, a small library, an intimate dining room and a small curved gallery that led into a large bedchamber suite to the right, complete with a sitting area, dressing rooms and private room with a tub; and a second, smaller bedchamber to the left, intended for a close family member or a special valet or attendant. Each bedchamber had a small antechamber where servants lined up in the morning and where special visitors waited to be admitted.

Montmorency and Captain Laurent had come to the apartment to stay with Henri for the rest of the afternoon. They cringed with horror as they watched the doctor's assistant clean the prince's wounds. Henri stoically endured the pain without complaining. He had finally fallen asleep when a guard announced the visit: Doctor Fernel and Mademoiselle Danielle were at the door of the sitting room seeking permission to see the prince. Montmorency hesitated, but then he remembered they were in the duke's home, and it would not be appropriate to deny access to a member of the duke's family. He nodded his consent and went to receive them.

The two guardsmen cast open the heavily carved doors of the prince's bedchamber and Montmorency walked out into the antechamber. He crossed the small gallery and went into the sitting room to greet Dr. Fernel and Danielle, who was being held by the doctor by one arm. Young Duke Giancarlo escorted them.

Danielle and Montmorency greeted each other with a formal nod, and Danielle realized that they have never been formally introduced. She felt a little intimidated by the Grand Master, whom she thought treated her with a certain coldness. After exchanging formalities, Danielle and the doctor followed Montmorency into the bedchamber and to the prince's bedside. Giancarlo stayed in the sitting room. He had never been formally introduced to the prince and felt uncomfortable visiting him in his bedchamber.

Inside the bedchamber, a bright yellow fire blazed in the stone hearth. The massive stone mantel above was magnificently decorated with the crest of the Bourbons and there were numerous objets d'art among which were elaborately carved wooden boxes, polished silver candle holders and miniature paintings. Expensive hand-woven Persian rugs covered the tile floor and sumptuous tapestries adorned the walls. At the center of the room was the large canopied mahogany bed where Henri lied shivering beneath the thick, fluffy down blankets and embroidered silk duvets. Two servants stood at the foot of the bed.

Held by Dr. Fernel, Danielle walked slowly, carefully avoiding any strenuous or sudden movement that could harm or reopen her wounds. When they reached the bed, Danielle cautiously opened the curtains. She could not contain her tears seeing Henri as he lied still, his face colorless and a grimace of pain twisting his mouth. She leant over to kiss Henri's face, stroking his hair. He did not know she was there. Seeing that Danielle and the doctor were somewhat settled, Montmorency and Laurent left the room and went to wait in the antechamber, trusting that the doctor would call them if the prince needed help.

"Henri, I was afraid you have died," she said as she stroke his face. She stood by the bed and the doctor rushed to get a chair for her, but Danielle seated on the bed instead. She carefully leaned forward to kiss Henri's face. "Oh Henri, I am so sorry, I am so sorry, my love. I'll be here for you," she whispered in his ear so that the doctor could not hear her. "Please, you need to recover, for me, for us." Danielle was weeping, and taking one of Henri's hands, she held it to her face, resting her forehead in the back of his hand. She began to sob.

Henri's eyes half opened. He tried to smile, but could not disguise his agony as the pain returned. He managed to speak in a whisper. "Danielle, you are here. I am sorry, my love…I am sorry I didn't protect you. I am not worthy of you."

Danielle's sobbing in despair turned into sobs of joy. "Oh, Henri, don't say that, you must know you are my world. I am here, I am well. I'll always be with you."

"What happened, Danielle?" He began to drift off. "You saved me. It was you...you saved me again." He spoke with difficulty, as the throbbing pain from his side wound was intense. "Why were you there?"

"That's not important now. What matters is that you are alive. You are here, and you'll be well."

"I am not well, Danielle. I may not recover." He was not wavering on his conviction to live, to fight for his life, but didn't want to give Danielle false hopes. He closed his eyes so Danielle would not see his tears. He tried to touch her face, but he was so weak that he could barely lift his hands.

"You will, Henri. You must. I can't go on without you."

"You can, and you must. Listen, please," he spoke very softly. "I have a gift that I commissioned for you. Laurent... he has it. He'll give it to you. I want you to wear it, and think of me." He continued to struggle to speak.

"Shush. Don't talk like this. The only gift I want is you, Henri. You will get better. Please promise me you will fight to get better. I'll do anything. Please Henri!" Danielle tried to control her tears.

In her distress she did not hear Captain Laurent and Montmorency reentering the room. They said something in a low voice to the doctor. Doctor Fernel put a hand on Danielle's shoulder and then gently tried to pull her from Henri's side. Danielle resisted.

"Just leave me, please."

"My lady, your uncle has sent for you. He is in urgent need to speak with you."

"Now? I need to be here with Henri. He needs me! Can't my uncle wait?"

"I am afraid he can't, my lady. It seems to be rather important, he needs to speak with you now. In fact, he has called a meeting of the family, in your chambers. Your cousin is waiting in the sitting room to accompany you. I will escort you back to your chambers."

As Danielle didn't move, the doctor continued. "You can come back here afterwards. I give you my word."

"Do you mean it, Dr. Fernel?

"I would not lie to you, madam. It is a promise," he said with overstated solemnity, placing his hand over his heart.

Danielle dried her tears and composed herself. "Very well then. I know I can trust you."

Dr. Fernel helped her stand and wrapped his arm around her to hold her as she walked out the room. They crossed the antechamber and joined Giancarlo in the sitting room, and with a slight nod to Montmorency and Laurent, they parted towards Danielle apartments.

When they arrived, Duke Philippe and the Duchesses Eleonora and Louise were waiting in her sitting room. By the grave expression on their faces Danielle could tell that an important conversation was about to take place. The duke thanked Dr. Fernel for accompanying Danielle and politely dismissed him. He then asked Giancarlo to take a seat. First, Giancarlo helped Danielle to the seat reserved for her.

"Whatever is the matter? Is it about Henri?" Danielle looked at her uncle and then at her aunts. She became apprehensive.

Philippe spoke calmly.

"Danielle, please be comfortable. We need to have a long conversation."

"What about? What has happened?"

"About you, Danielle. The time has come for us to tell you your real name and lineage."

"Whatever do you mean?"

The duke stood up and walked slowly to Danielle. He took her hands in his.

Danielle sat quietly and became still, her questioning eyes wide open.

"Danielle, I want you to know that we love you very much. What we did... well... it was all to protect you. Auguste, the family... all we wanted was to protect you."

"You are scaring me, Zio," Danielle said in a barely audible voice, eyes locked on the duke.

"You should know, ma mignonne, that your real name is Danielle de Bourbon, Comtesse de Clermont. You are also the real Duchesse de Bourbon, provided the King chooses to grant us the return of what is rightfully yours."

The news startled her like a sudden stroke of lightning had hit her. 'Comtesse? A noblewoman? I am not hearing this right.' She could not utter a word.

"I...Zio... I don't understand."

"Danielle, Auguste de Barbarac, who raised you, was not your blood father. He was our half brother and thus your uncle, and also your godfather. Your real father was our brother, Charles de Bourbon-Montpensier. He was the head of our family and carried many titles. He was Duc de Bourbon and Auvergne, Comte de Clermont-en-Beauvaisis, Forez and La Marche, and Lord of Beaujeu. For six years he was also the Constable of France and a close friend of King Francis, until their disagreements caused treason and betrayal and the near destruction of our family."

The duke paused to give Danielle time to process the information and its implications. A feeling of immense loss overwhelmed Danielle. Her whole world came crashing down and she felt as if the floor was being removed from under her feet. Her beloved father no longer hers; the ideal mother who died at her birth, a pure fantasy; her whole identity changed in one instant with each word spoken by her uncle. She felt lost.

The duke was disturbed by her silence. He did not let go of her hands but turned to his wife, his eyes imploring, she nodded and gestured for him to go on.

Danielle saw her aunt's gesture and shook herself out of her shock. "Please go on, uncle." It was clear she was very sad and shaken.

"You are a true Bourbon, as you carry the line on both sides. Your father and your mother were second cousins. As I said, your father was the head of our family, the Bourbon-Montpensier, a cadet branch of the Bourbons, and your mother, Suzanne de Bourbon, was heiress general and duchesse regnant of the senior Bourbon line. Your mother was the daughter of Princess Anne de France and of Peter II, the senior Duc de Bourbon. You have royal blood, Danielle, because your maternal grandmother, Anne de France, was the eldest daughter of King Louis XI and the sister of King Charles VIII, for whom she acted as regent. Your grandmother Anne was very powerful and was known as Madame la Grande. Thanks to Anne's service to France, her only child, your mother Suzanne, was recognized by King Louis XII as Peter's and Anne's sole heiress to the Bourbon lands and titles despite the Salic law.

When our brother Charles and your mother Suzanne married, the Bourbon-Montpensier branch and the senior Bourbon line became one –the most powerful Ducal house in the country, one with direct claims to the throne for being descendants of kings. Your mother unfortunately died shortly after you were born." The duke took a deep breath. "Danielle, you are the true heiress of all the Bourbon lands and titles. You are the granddaughter of Peter II, the senior Duc de Bourbon and his wife, the beloved Princess Anne de France. You are the great-granddaughter of a King, Louis XI, and the grand-niece of King Charles VIII."

Danielle was shaking her head. "This cannot be possible." She was stunned.

She let go of the duke's hands. She sat staring at nothing special. It was as if she had left this room and only her physical body was sitting there. She still could not believe she was this heiress her uncle was talking about, but if this was true, then there were new implications. On the one hand, she understood she was a noblewoman, which would make it easier for the King to accept her as Henri's bride. The Court would have to accept her as well. But on the other hand, the King could not accept her as the daughter of the late treasonous Constable, the enemy of France. A traitor! She vaguely remembered Henri mentioning the conflict.

She heard the duke say, 'if the King would return what is rightfully yours…' but the King would never forgive the offense of treason. He would never...Her world was collapsing. Why did they lie to me? More lies. And my papa Auguste, did he lie too? This cannot be. She was Danielle de Barbarac. Auguste had loved her, had called her his daughter, his child, his angel.

"I am Danielle de Barbarac!" She affirmed. She was afraid that Henri would never understand this deceit. More lies! Oh, Henri would think I lied to him again!

"There is more, Danielle. We can explain it all."

"Oh God! No… no! Why?" She cried, shaking her head in disbelief. "Please, stop! Leave me alone. I need to go back to Henri!" She said suddenly standing up, wanting to run away.

But she overestimated her strength. With the sudden movement came instability and a pain from her chest wound and she was overcome by a wave of dizziness. The tears began to spill as if to flood the room. She felt her knees going weak and she stumbled down, overwhelmed. The duke caught her before she hit the floor and gently placed her on the plush rug and knelt next to her. He embraced her and cradled her head to his chest. Danielle was sobbing uncontrollably; her pain was both physical and emotional. Her breath shortened as she gasped for air.

Duchesse Eleonora was alarmed. "Call the doctor, Giancarlo," she demanded of her son. "We must not lose her."

"Philippe, her wound!" Duchesse Louise warned.

The duke looked at her wound and saw no blood. She did not collapse because of her wounds; it was because of the news.

The Duchesse Eleonora went to Danielle's side. "Danielle, darling, please understand. Auguste loved you. You were his dearest gift, his joy. There is much you need to learn and overcome. And we must fill you in now. We know you are strong. Call on that strength now and accept your position. Please, do it for the prince. For Auguste, for your love of him."

Danielle continued to sob, she grasped her aunt's hand in hers, holding tight. She did not move but wept madly into the duke's chest. In between sobs, they heard, "More lies, how can he ever trust me again."

The duke spoke quietly, but loud enough to be heard above the din. "She will rise above it all, Eleonora. She has to. She had a life that unexpectedly has prepared her for this moment. She is a child of the people, with the blood of nobles and royals. I was wrong to think we could keep her from her destiny. She is a real princess, and she must be the wife of a prince. Prince Henri will recover, and we must support his endeavors, not only because she will make the strong wife and partner the prince needs, but because she is what France needs and deserves."

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