Chapter Four: No Sleep
Danielle knew the last few days had been too good to be true. As she stumbled towards the ruins, she tried desperately to wipe away the tears. There was no world in which she and Henry could marry. A girl of cinders could never become something more.
Her back stung, the laces of the corset in the dress digging into her poorly fastened bandages. She took another shaky step before nearly collapsing on the ground. She wanted nothing more than to just let the earth swallow her whole. She could disappear and never have to think about anyone or anything again. Yet… she moved forward.
The least she could do for Henry's sake was to let him down gently. He deserved a proper noble lady. Someone graceful and with tact. Heaven knows she had not the forethought to hold her tongue in certain situations. He deserved someone with political skills who could help him rule properly. The last thing he needed was some poor servant girl who couldn't even protect her father's last gift.
With this in mind, she continued towards the ruins. Her feet started to walk against rubble; broken pillars stood by cracking walls of stone. Light fell through the trees and the Ruins of Amboise were bathed in beautiful light, but once Danielle witnessed Henry, she was no longer focused on her surroundings.
He was sitting on a windowsill with a book in hand, idly flipping through it. His hair was being lightly tousled by the wind and he was… stunning. He hadn't noticed her yet. Danielle wondered if it was too late to return to the house now. Perhaps if she left and never saw him again, she could keep the memories they shared as the most wonderful time in her life and that would be enough.
But in a moment, he turned his head. There was a light that flashed in his eyes as soon as his gazed upon Danielle. With a spring in his step, he quickly closed the book before taking a few strides towards her. There was no backing out now.
With an ease and confidence that only Henry could attain, he gave her a breathtaking smile and spoke, "Hello."
"…Hello," Danielle replied.
Apparently, Danielle had still not done a very good job of erasing the tear marks on her face because the next words out of Henry's mouth were, "Are you well?"
He deserved honesty, so Danielle answered, "I fear I am not myself today."
Thankfully, Henry was distracted by something else and took her answer at face value. He nodded and walked close to her with an excited spring in his step.
"I feel as if my skin is the only thing keeping me from going everywhere at once! There is something I must tell you!"
"And I, you," Danielle managed to say.
Catching her off guard, Henry handed the book he had been perusing to her. "Oh, here. Your book, you left it in the carriage yesterday."
With a slight tremor in her hands, she accepted the book. "Your highness—"
"Henry," He interrupted.
Danielle almost groaned in frustration. He wasn't giving her a chance to speak. "I cannot stay long," She tried again, "But I had to see you. There is much to say."
"Come," He held out his arm to escort her further into the ruins.
Danielle didn't know whether to laugh or cry. At this point, she felt as though speaking to Henry was speaking to a stone wall. He was so excited that Danielle was afraid of the reason he called her to the ruins. Still, she let him guide her under the stone passageways and listened to him for she knew it would certainly be the last time.
"I want to show you something," He began. "I used to play here as a boy. It was my father's most cherished retreat before the war." He explained as they continued to survey the hauntingly magnificent ruins.
He gently pulled her along and Danielle murmured, "It's beautiful."
"I've measured my life by these trees," He announced. "Starting here," he gestured to the smaller saplings, "all the way up there," he pointed to the tips of the tallest trees. "And still, they grow. So much life to live. But I no longer imagine it alone."
Danielle felt her heart rate speed up. She knew where this was going. On one hand, she hoped and prayed that she was wrong, but in her inner-most heart, she longed for herself to be right. Yet despite what she so desperately desired, she still, could not, in good conscience, let this continue. She wished he would stop talking… or go on forever.
"You're not making this easy," She managed to say.
But it was as if he didn't hear her. "I have not slept for fear I would wake up to find all this a dream. Oh, last night, I had a revelation." He continued. "I used to think, if I cared about anything, I would have to care about everything. And I'd go stark raving mad."
Danielle let out a strangled laugh.
"But now, I've found my purpose. It's a project actually inspired by you; I feel the most wonderful… freedom."
She shook her head, feeling the tears build up in her eyes. She prayed that he didn't notice them. "It wasn't me."
He laughed, completely oblivious to her obvious distress. "Danielle."
She hated it. She hated how sweet and caring he was. She despised his admirableness. If only he was a horse-stealing brute that she could throw apples at! Then everything would be so much easier and saying goodbye would feel so terrible.
He continued, "You are unlike any courtier I have ever met. Tomorrow, at the masque, I shall make it known to the world."
Danielle felt her throat constrict with a lump as a few more tears dripped from her eyes. He wanted to marry her. He loved her.
"Why did you have to be so wonderful?" It was a strangled cry for help.
She wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and embrace him. She wanted to kiss him and accept his proposal immediately and leave her old life behind. But it was the old life that haunted her. Her house was a house of cards that would fall apart at the smallest breeze.
She could never have him.
"Now then, what was it you wanted to tell me?" He finally met her gaze.
This was the moment. The moment she had been waiting for ever since she had stepped foot into the ruins. Her mouth opened but for a second, she couldn't speak. Looking into his brilliant, love-filled eyes, it made it impossible to utter a single word. She sobbed before trying to find anywhere else to look but at him.
Henry tilted his head as if he were just starting to catch on that Danielle was nowhere as happy as he was.
"Simply that," She paused. "Last night was the happiest night of my life."
She turned her gaze to the forest floor before finally finding resolve… to break his heart.
"But..." She continued.
"But?" Henry inquired, now seeming much less sure of himself as he had been a moment ago.
"Your highness"
"Henry."
"Your highness," Danielle stated, taking a step back. "I am a servant. I have nothing to offer France other than the ashes on my fingers."
"Danielle—"
"Please listen to me Henry!" She raised her voice for the first time. She didn't dare look him in the eye now. "I am poor, ill-mannered, and ill kept. I cannot be the queen that you need." Her voice was now, barely above a whisper.
The silence was unbearable. She stood across from him, shoulders drooped and eyes on the ground. She feared the pain on his face would weaken her resolve.
"Danielle…" Henry spoke softly. "I love you."
Those words should have brought her joy and elation. Instead, all she could feel was despair. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly.
"You have… been born to privilege and with that come specific obligations…"
She turned and began to walk away. Every step felt heavier than the last.
"Danielle!" Henry called from behind her.
She didn't answer and kept taking one step after another.
"Danielle!"
Another step.
"Danielle!"
Once she felt herself far enough away, her legs dropped from beneath her. Her body crumpled to the forest floor and Danielle heard the most heart-wrenching sobs echo in the forest. The cries sounded as if someone was having their heart ripped from their chest.
It took her a moment to realize they were coming from her.
Rodmilla approved of Marguerite's excellent tale about saving a baby from a horse. The queen seemed completely taken with it too as they sat around the table drinking tea.
"It was a maternal instinct, your majesty." Marguerite finished.
"I am so sorry my son can't join us." The queen lamented. "He seems to have disappeared again."
"Again?" Rodmilla found herself asking.
"Yes," The queen answered. "He was gone all day yesterday and did not return until dawn."
"Well!" Rodmilla exclaimed, her mind going back to another person who had not returned until dawn… surely it had to be a coincidence.
"It must be marvelous to have that kind of stamina," The queen said wistfully before her eyes sparked with an idea. "Perhaps you can solve a mystery for me. Do you know of a Nicole de Lancret? My son was asking for information regarding her and her husband. I remember you are Auguste's widow, so I was wondering if you had any information regarding her?"
Rodmilla felt her breath catch. "Nicole de Lancret?" She repeated.
"Yes," The queen nodded.
Rodmilla needed to lie and lie quickly. "I'm afraid I don't know much about her. Auguste never really spoke of her."
In the corner of her eye, Rodmilla watched as Marguerite grew confused. She only hoped that her daughter had enough sense in her to keep silent and behave.
"That is a pity," The queen sighed. "Do you know if they had a child?"
"No," Rodmilla said slowly, "Why do you ask?"
"Well, Henry has been frequenting some place lately and asking questions about Auguste and Nicole, so I wonder if he's taken interest in a lady. It's just a motherly hunch you know."
Rodmilla felt her teeth clench and she tried to maintain her smile. "No, I'm afraid they didn't have a child. With Auguste constantly making trips back and forth between here and Belgium, I think he was too busy before she passed."
"Mother—" Marguerite tried to interject but was quickly shut down.
"That is all the information I have, your majesty." Rodmilla finished.
If she had been a bit more observant, Rodmilla would have seen a flash of suspicion cross the queen's eyes. But between being so desperate to change the subject and thinking of what she was going to do to Danielle when she returned, she completely missed it.
She was sure of one thing though, Danielle had to be taken out of the picture entirely.
If anyone asked, Henry was not sulking. He was not nursing his wounds with wine he had taken from the kitchens. He was not sitting on the floor of his room in a drunken stupor.
He kept reminiscing about what he had said, mere hours earlier, wondering if there was something different, he could have done. Maybe he should have chased after her as she walked away. Yet, as she did, his feet seemed to be rooted in the ground. Perhaps, if he had let her speak first, he would have had time to gather his thoughts and convince Danielle otherwise. With all of these thoughts running around in his head, he didn't even hear the door to his room open.
"When you left this morning in such great hurry, I was almost certain you would be coming back with a certain servant girl I met a few days ago." Da Vinci said entering the room, avoiding the bottles on the floor.
Henry struggled to stand up but stumbled and fell nearly flat on his face.
"No, no, my boy, stay on the ground. You can barely sit straight. What makes you think you can walk?" Da Vinci frowned.
"Frankly Signor," Henry managed to say, "I'm not in the mood."
"Good God man, where is your spirit!" Da Vinci shook his head. "Here you were, not hours earlier, on the cusp of singing sonnets about the keep and now you can barely hold your head straight. Was it truly that bad?"
"Signor!" Henry groaned. "I do not wish to discuss the particulars. Please just leave me be."
"Like you just left her?" Da Vinci probed.
"What else could I have done?" Henry began to raise his voice. "She is the stubbornest mule I've ever met! I couldn't have dragged her kicking and screaming back to the castle, now, could I?"
Da Vinci looked at him. "So, you just let her go like an idiot?"
"I couldn't—Gah! What would you know! You build flying machines and walk on water, yet you know nothing about life!" Henry spat.
Da Vinci straightened. "I know that life without love, is not life at all."
"But love unrequited?" Henry challenged. "What of that?"
"She is your match Henry, even if she herself doesn't see it yet. Although I have only witnessed you two once, I would have had to have been blind and deaf not to understand the special bond you two share."
Henry picked up another bottle only for Da Vinci to snatch it out of his hands. Yet he couldn't find it within himself to fight anymore. The older man sat beside him and popped open the drink, before taking a long swig of it.
"What happened Henry?" Da Vinci asked after putting the bottle down.
Henry took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I don't know… I poured out my heart to her. Told her my plans for the future and she… she refused it. I told her I loved her, and she responded by saying I am held to certain obligations because of the crown."
"Ah," Da Vinci thought over Henry's words. "Did you ever stop to consider her position in all of this?"
"What do you mean?" Henry fixed Da Vinci with a questioning look.
"Perhaps," Da Vinci began, "Your love is not so one sided as you would believe."
"I don't understand," Henry admitted.
"Consider her side to all of this. She is a commoner who has been asked to become queen. That means politics, court, positions, and duties. Naturally, if she is as humble a woman as she lead me to believe when I made her acquaintance, she would feel woefully unprepared for such things."
"But I know Danielle," Henry interrupted. "She would take to it as a duck to water."
"You know this," Da Vinci stated. "But does she? You will come to find that most people are not half as confident as they present. It is likely, that feeling unprepared to be queen of France, she thought the best thing she could do, for you, was to refuse you. It was probably out of only the deepest love; did she reject your proposal."
"Do you… do you really think that?" Henry allowed himself to regain some semblance of hope.
"It is just a theory," Da Vinci explained.
"Then how?" Henry murmured. "How can I make her see her worth?"
"Perhaps," Da Vinci flicked Henry on the forehead, "By going after her as you should have done the moment, she rejected you."
"You're right!" Henry stood up quickly only to immediately fall flat on his face again.
"Maybe, when you are less inebriated my friend." Da Vinci smiled.
Danielle's back continued to sting as she laid with it against the cellar wall. Still the pain from the lashings, and her stepmother's beating was nowhere near close to the pain that was in her heart. There was a raw, numbness spreading like cracks from the center of her chest, absorbing any sort of fleeting happiness left.
Poor Paulette and Louise had tried there best in getting her out of the cellar, if only to treat her wounds which seemed to grow hotter by the second. Yet, despite all their efforts, the cellar door remained lock tightly.
In a sense, Danielle had accepted her fate with a grace she didn't know she had. The Baroness would keep her locked in here until the ball, so she would provide no further distractions. It did bring a small sense of triumph to know that had Danielle accepted Henry's proposal, all the scheming of the Baroness would have been for naught.
For a moment, Danielle let herself dwell on what might have been. If she had only accepted his proposal, Danielle could be at the palace at this very moment, preparing for the ball. She would be laughing—either with or at Henry. He would inevitably say something to incite her ire just so they could verbally spar back and forth. Then, she would defeat him, and he would be amazed at her. He would step towards her, their faces merely inches apart and he would say something sweet and kind before kissing her.
Danielle felt another tear trickle down her face.
"I have it on good authority," The baroness suddenly exclaimed from the opposite side of the cellar door, startling Danielle. "That the prince is going to choose Marguerite to be his bride. Men are so fickle, aren't they. One minute they're spouting sonnets, and the next, you're abandoned."
Danielle closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall.
"I must say, I've never seen you this quiet and domesticated. It would suit you to behave like this more often." The baroness continued.
Breathing in and out, Danielle bit her tongue to keep herself from rising to the baroness' words. She knew it was exactly what the bitter old woman wanted.
"You brought this on yourself."
Danielle's eyes snapped open. "Don't you understand?" she retorted. "You've won! Go and move into your palace and leave me be!"
"You're not my problem anymore." The baroness stated snidely.
Danielle rose from her seat and walked towards the door. "Is that what I am? Your problem?" She couldn't stop the shakiness in her voice. "I have done everything you've ever asked me to do and still you've denied me the only thing I ever wanted."
"And what was that?" The baroness glared at her.
Danielle almost rolled her eyes. "What do you think? You are the only mother I have ever known. Was there ever a time… even in its smallest measurement… that you loved me at all?"
She despised how desperate and weak she sounded. But she wanted to—no, she needed to know the answer to her question.
"How can anyone love a pebble in their shoe."
It stung… immensely. Yet the baroness' admission did not hurt as much as Danielle feared it would have. At one point, the words would have cut Danielle much deeper than they did now. Danielle concluded that at some point, the little girl who desperately longed for maternal love withered away a long time ago.
Distracting them both, Paulette was heard shouting. She barreled down the small hallway, being careful to avoid the Baroness.
"Danielle," She exclaimed before giving a small bow to the Baroness. "My lady, come and see! It's back, all of it!"
"What's back?" Danielle found herself asking, missing the slow and deceptive grin on the baroness' face.
"All of it! The candlesticks, the drapes, and tapestries! Monsieur Le Pieu is returning all of it!" Paulette explained.
Danielle felt fury expand in her chest as she fixed a cold glare on her stepmother. "Father's books? His paintings? You sold them to him?!"
"Yes," The baroness answered as nonchalantly as possible. "And now they're back. I can't have us looking like paupers when the king and prince arrive for Marguerite."
"But why…" The gears started turning in Danielle's head. "Why would he be giving them back?"
The baroness grinned. "I can't have you around distracting the prince now, can I? Monsieur Le Pieu and I have come to an arrangement. You, for everything. Although I do think I'm getting the better end of the deal."
Horror dawned on Danielle's face. Suddenly, Paulette was being pushed away as large strangers came down the hallway. The baroness took a step back and before Danielle could even comprehend what was going on, the cellar door was opened, and she was being forcefully dragged out of the house.
"No!" Danielle screamed. "No!"
"Danielle!" Paulette yelled after her.
Danielle was kicking and struggling as hard as she could. But between the bruises, lashes, and lack of sleep, there just wasn't a lot left in her to really fight back. Tossed into the back of a cart, Danielle felt her head hit the hard wood and she blacked out.
Jaqueline watched from the window with horror as Danielle was carted away like some sort of animal. It was a surreal experience.
Jaqueline had never really liked how her mother and Marguerite had treated Danielle. But she was also aware that if Danielle wasn't there to receive the brunt of their anger, their ire would be turned onto her. So, she kept quiet. But now, she was beginning to regret that decision. She couldn't in good conscience, let something so horrible be done to Danielle and she didn't even know what is was for.
She figured, after the whole spat with Marguerite regarding the shoes and the dress, the lashings were punishment enough. Because Paulette and Louise had been tending to the farm, Jaqueline had offered to help Danielle dress her wounds, even though she knew she wouldn't be very good at it. Still, it was the least she could do.
Turning away from the window, Jaqueline sat her bed. What could she do? Who should she go to in order to receive help? She knew Danielle had at least one friend, by the name of Gustave. Perhaps he would know what to do.
Downstairs, she heard the clomping of feet as her mother and Marguerite entered the room adjacent to hers that had the dress and shoes… or at least, they thought it had the dress and shoes.
Honestly, Jaqueline didn't know what posessed her to help Paulette and Louise hide the gown and shoes. When she caught them taking it, her first reaction should have been to call her mother. Instead, she offered to help them hide the articles of clothing in her room.
Jaqueline heard the grunts of rage emanate from the bedroom as Marguerite and her mother soon found that the gown and shoes were not where they ought to be.
"Damn that wench!" Marguerite swore using language unbecoming of a lady. But of course, she wasn't lectured by mother, she was Marguerite.
"Damn her for hiding that dress! Damn her for punching me in the face! Damn her for having the gall to even speak with the prince! Damn her, damn her, damn her!"
Jaqueline frowned. Speaking with the prince? Was that where Danielle had disappeared to? Perhaps, not all hope was lost after all. The unfortunate thing was that Jaqueline didn't even really know where to begin with contacting the prince. It had always been her mother or Marguerite speaking to him. Still, at least she had an inkling of an idea of what do.
Laying down on the bed, Jaqueline thought she could try and sleep on it. After being under the covers for less than a minute however, Jaqueline knew she wasn't going to get any sleep that night at all.