Again, I have to apologise. I wish I could just move to some kind of writing convent. This semester has been the absolute worst (up until now, who knows what the future holds). I'm done now though and apart from work, I am free as a bee. I'll be as hard-working as a bee too and hopefully, I get another chapter out this month.
Sorry for the long wait. I promise, no matter how long it takes, I willl not abandon my stories :)
Château de Calais
Catherine
They were indeed late for the ball but that seemed to be the fashion in France. The huge ballroom was still half empty and neither the English nor the French king were anywhere to be found. Neither was Anne, but Catherine expected her to show up more than fashionably late in a breathtaking gown with a diamond mine in her hair and around her neck. She loved a dramatic entrance.
For now, Cat would have to find another companion though,for the Spanish ambassador had pulled Charles into a curtained nook and talked to him insistently. He would not let her husband go very soon, she thought, and Charles had thankfully developed a sense for politics in the recent years, so that he would not dare to affront the ambassador.
Still, waiting all alone in a ballroom was not what Cat had imagined for tonight. There was a group of well-dressed French courtiers to her left and a few middle-aged English ladies to her right. The latter stared at her openly, twisting their wedding bands around their fingers while shooting disapproving looks at the low neckline of Cat's dress, the frivolous French hood on her hair and the extravagant wedding ring on her finger. The French courtiers then.
"Madame la Duchesse!" A man in a fine blue velvet doublet raised his hand for an elegant wave.
"You 'ave no idea how 'appy we are to 'ave you back again – if only for a few weeks. The French court was lusterless without you."
It took her a moment to recognise the man – he had been slimmer back then, and had not sported such a neatly trimmed beard.
"Guillaume de Laval!" Guillaume had been no more than a lowly country gentleman when Cat had still served Queen Claude but he had always been ambitious – ambitious enough to flirt with the daughter of an English duke. Apparently, his endeavours had been fruitful. He looked like a prince himself.
"Not the man you once knew, Your Grace. A different man with the same respect for your person - and beauty - though." He kissed her hand.
"You must allow me to dance with you."
Cat did not like being told what to do but as she was friendless at the moment, any acquaintance from the past was welcome, and so she was perhaps a little too enthusiastic in her response – a response that prompted Guillaume to put a hand on her waist before the dance had even started.
Hopefully, Charles hadn't seen that.
The music was different in France as well, faster without being hasty, a melodious tune, seductive but airy.
Guillaume danced with all the grace of a Frenchman.
They exchanged the usual pleasantries until his tone suddenly changed, his voice was low as he brought his lips uncomfortably close to her ear:
"What would your lord 'usband say if I told 'im what 'appened between us?"
His breath was wet against her skin and she resisted the urge to wipe her cheek with her sleeve.
"Nothing happened, Monsieur de Laval. You know that as well as I do."
"Nothing? Vous-êtes sûre, madame la duchesse? Les parvenues are always so very suspicious…'e would be furious, don't you think?"
"I do not know what you are talking about, monsieur, but my patience is wearing thin."
The Frenchman raised a hand to touch her hair but she flinched away, disguised the movement as part of the dance and stepped away from him as far as courtesy and the steps of the dance allowed.
"What do you want?"
"You shouldn't 'ave settled for that man, ma jolie. All I want you to keep in mind is that I know things about you 'e would not like. You should be – comment-dit-on – courteous."
Catherine had no idea what he meant. She had been virtuous in France, no escapades, no flirt beyond the scope of the ordinary. A few stolen kisses here and there, that was it. Guillaume had received one, she remembered. She now regretted her former bad taste in men.
And yet...would she tell Charles? There was an indistinct, dull fear growing in her that perhaps, Charles would not consider her life at the French court so virtuous. That he would not consider her innocent. Nonsense. That is not the truth, you know it isn't. Why would he believe Guillaume more than you?
Because he was a jealous man. And Guillaume knew that.
She was glad when the dance was over and found some of her fellow ladies in waiting by the buffet.
Anne did make her grand entrance later, but although even her greatest enemies had to admit grudgingly that Lady Anne had indeed looked rather pretty and that she had borne herself with exceptional grace, Anne's only friend was absent-minded all night. Anne tried to ask her but as she was always surrounded by two crowned heads and all those who tried to get into her good books, Catherine only smiled convincingly and told her that it was nothing, only the late hour.
Charles escaped the clutches of politics only for one dance during which he barely noticed the change in his lady wife. She had to be tired, of course. And perhaps she felt neglected. He would make up for it, he decided. But then, an envoy from Padua came and he was again separated from Catherine.
The one who enjoyed the ball the most was the king. Francis behaved like a gentleman and all the French courtiers treated Anne like the queen Henry had decided she would be.
It was the perfect beginning of a trip that, Henry hoped, would finally settle everything. And the little secret that was hidden in the casket under his desk would decide the rest….
~o~
Cat did not tell Charles that night. But she lay away all night thinking about it and when dawn came, she had made her decision.
"Good morning, little wildcat." Charles kissed her shoulder.
"I have to tell you something." She bursted out.
After a quick look at her face he judged that it was not the time for a good morning kiss and leant back against the headboard.
"Then tell."
"Yesterday evening, you remember the man that talked to me?"
"The one with the strange beard?"
"Yes. Well, he was trying – I'm not sure what exactly he wants."
And as Cat told him what Guillaume had said, his expression changed from cheerful to grim.
"I swear, nothing ever happened – "
"I don't doubt you, Cat." Now he smiled. "I trust you entirely, surely you know that." Charles kissed her.
"But about him….I know men like him. He has risen but not as high as he wanted. Bored and discontented, he is hungry for power, even in this pathetic form of blackmail. There is no reason, no greater cause, he does it because he thinks he can. You are beautiful, rich and have more power in your pinky than he he could ever hope to have. Of course he would like having you at his mercy." Charles clenched his jaws.
"He will soon be at my mercy, I swear, he'll wish –"
That did not sound promising. A sword or a fist fight would even benefit Guillaume.
"Shall we not be a bit more discreet? Let Anne have her state visit, we may not ruin it. But there's nothing wrong with a little game…" she smiled.
Charles raised a brow. "I am rather fond of games ever since they got me a very fine wife."
"You have always liked games."
"Yes, but I like them more since I'm playing with you."
"Good, you'll be playing with me this time – Keep your hands to yourself for a moment, would you?"
"Am I distracting you?" He grinned.
"Oh, not at all." She had to smile. "So, Laval." Cat knew better than calling him Guillaume in Charles' hearing.
"Yes."
"I think we should make him believe he has won."
"That doesn't sound good."
"And then, when he thinks he has won whatever it is he wants, we show him that we played him. And perhaps tell Anne."
"I'm all for it."
"You would say that even if I suggested setting the Vatican on fire."
"Maybe." Charles kissed her neck. "Probably. Depends on when you're asking."
"You are truly incorrigib- Ah."
~o~
They were late for breakfast that morning but Cat took her seat next to Anne without a hint of red on her cheeks.
"You had a good night then, I take it?" asked Nan Savage, one of Anne's new ladies-in-waiting.
"Shush, Nan." Anne raised a hand, every inch the virtuous and dignified future queen of England. "I do hope you are not suggesting what I fear you are suggesting."
"No, Madame la Marquise – le Marquis. I beg your pardon." Nan turned an ugly shade of red and busied herself with the pastry on her plate while a few of the less virtuous maids of honour hid their giggles behind their napkins.
"You do look as if you had a very good night though," Anne whispered into Cat's ear with a small, devilish grin. "And your husband looks as if he was introduced to the finer arts of France last night."
Now it was Cat's turn to blush.
"I am a married woman, dear marquess. I like to think I have done nothing more than my duty."
"I know how very seriously you take your duties. Especially those as a lady in waiting. That must be why you have waited on me this morning – Oh, pardon me, no, not at all indeed. I spent my morning with a few silly geese, my darling sister included, and some dried up women, my dear sister-in-law amongst them, while you were nowhere to be found."
"Well, there was a little … issue."
"That small, truly?" Anne gave Cat a wicked grin. "I wouldn't have thought the duke –"
"I fear France is bad for you, dear marquess. You used to be such a virtuous lady but now you talk like a swineherd. I'll tell you later. You will like it very much."
"I hope so. Otherwise I fear I have to force you to spend the evening with Lady Rochford and my sister, as punishment."
"And who would you spend the evening with?"
Anne's gaze went to the king, bold in blue and gold next to the French king. Henry looked back at her with unconcealed hunger.
"I think I might find myself a willing companion…"
"I fear your morals are deteriorating rather quickly, dearest Anne."
"Not quickly enough I fear." Anne took a sip of the light French wine. Henry had still not taken his eyes off her although he was engaged in a conversation with Charles and King Francis. Charles winked at Cat, then a grim expression replaced the smirk.
"Madame la Marquise. No star shines brighter than you." It was Guillaume de Laval. He knew Anne from her days in France, though not as well as Catherine, fortunately. Henry might have reacted differently to his story than Charles.
"Monsieur de Laval! Enchantée." Anne did not get up to greet him but her smile was genuine.
"And the beautiful Duchess. A good morning to you, madame."
"Thank you, monsieur."
"Will I meet the ladies in the gardens later? Ice sculptors from Italy have made their way to Paris to be received by the King of England and his future queen."
Anne was pleased. "You may meet us there if you think of some more original compliments until then, monsieur." She waved him away with a smile, then she saw Cat's face.
"You look like an ice sculpture yourself. What has he done to receive such a cool greeting?"
Lady Rochford tried hard to look occupied but Cat saw that she strained her ears in order to catch this part of their conversation.
"Oh, nothing. I just never liked his empty flattery, 'tis all."
Of course Anne understood.
Later, when they dressed for the gardens, Anne asked Cat to help her with the heavy fur cloak while the other ladies were waiting in the audience chamber.
"So, what is the matter with Laval?"
"He talked to me yesterday night during the reception ball. He mentioned his brief courtship and other things, hinted at more – I don't know at what exactly. He said he would tell Charles about everything that happened in France if I wasn't courteous to him."
"So you told Charles before he could, your loving husband forgave you and you thanked him for his loyalty the French way?"
One day Cat would stop blushing and that would be a very fine day.
"I do not know what Guillaume wants. There is nothing I could give him – "
"Have you considered that he just likes the power he holds over you? He was in love with you once, perhaps this is his way of getting revenge?"
That did make sense. Men and their hurt pride often went to great lengths to take vengeance.
"Well, Charles and I will not let him."
"The Duke and Duchess of Suffolk join forces. Monsieur de Laval, brace yourself for thunder and lighting." Anne laughed. "Oh, I will enjoy this."
She pulled the cloak over her velvet skirt and Cat helped her smooth it over the fabric.
"Lovely."
"Well, I hope so. The king's sister and his cousin will pay us a visit here tonight and I will have to look exquisite."
After the Queen of France had refused to receive her, Anne had been furious but Queen Eleanor, a Habsburgian who had succeeded sweet Queen Claude upon the latter's death, was a niece of Katherine of Aragon and therefore naturally opposed Henry's remarriage. King Francis didn't pay her much heed and had advised Anne and Henry, both furious, to do the same.
Today for the ice sculpture competition the King of France would come to see them with his mistress once again, the Duchesse d'Étampes.
Anne had vowed to treat the royal mistress with all due respect this time and she would now have a chance to prove her sincerity, even twice.
Francis had planned for their little party to go to a royal lodge just outside Calais in painted barges and dance in a hastily planned masque that very night. Afterwards they would reward the best ice sculptors and dance and feast until the small hours of the morning.
Anne and her ladies had left the warmth of the castle to admire the sculpturers' work. They were indeed beautiful. There were sweet maidens, Greek goddesses, oversized flowers and graceful animals. The ice glittered like crystal in the soft winter sun.
Anne was chatting to the Duchesse d'Étampes and Catherine had seized the opportunity to be alone with her thoughts for a moment. Not that a certain person would respect her apparent wish for privacy.
"They remind me so much of you, Your Grace." Guillaume had stepped beside her, soft-footed and silent as always. "So beautiful...but so cold."
Catherine gave him a smile that could have frozen the channel. "Careful you don't get frostbite then, Monsieur."
He had the audacity to laugh, a little jolly chuckle. He was completely undisturbed by her threat. He still thought he held power over her.
"I do not believe you would bite me, my lady."
"'Your Grace' for you."
"You are not foolish enough to bite the hand that holds compromising information. You are all bark and no bite, like a good lady should be."
He took her gloved hand. "You must be cold, certainly? Let me warm your hands."
"If you allow, Mr Laval, that is my duty." Charles had nonchalantly pushed him aside, put an arm round Catherine's waist and turned his back on Laval. "Forgive me, love, the king wished to see me." Charles ignored Guillaume completely and Cat was certain only she could see the shimmer of malicious glee in her husband's eyes.
"How cruel of him to deprive your wife of your company," Catherine chirped.
"I will refuse him next time. No ruler could ask of a man to leave a wife like you alone. The sharks will think it weakness and attack." Charles kissed her forehead, then her cheek.
Catherine wiggled her fingers. "I might not have fangs but I have a cat's claws."
Charles kissed her temple. "Oh, as if I didn't know." He was the only one who could give this sentence such a saucy double entendre that Cat blushed.
"For you, I'll be a lap cat," she smiled the same sickeningly sweet way as Nan Savage when she looked at the Baron Berkeley. Charles covered a fit of laughter with a cough.
"You know," he whispered into her ear and his hot breath made her skin tingle, "I ought to thank your friend Laval. I don't think you have ever been that nice to me, little lap cat – ouch."
Cat had proven the effect of her claws.
She gave her husband a dazzling smile. Laval, who stood behind Charles smiled as well, in a way that promised he would continue to cause trouble.
"Your Grace," he approached Charles. "I do not think we have been formally introduced, although of course your lovely wife has told me all about you. Guillaume de Laval." He offered Charles a respectful bow. Charles did not bow back and raised an eyebrow.
"Strange, I never even heard a word about you." He smiled jovially. "So you know Cathy from her days in France?"
Cathy. Charles had far too much fun with this.
Guillaume smiled pleasantly. "Yes, I have known Cathy for many years now." His use of Charles's nickname for her was plump and too familiar but Charles pretended not to notice.
"Wonderful. So you must know each other well. Why did you never tell me about your French friends, my darling?" he turned to Cat who pretended to be lost for words.
"I never found the right moment, I guess."
"Yes, I would say I got to know her very well indeed." Guillaume flashed Catherine a quick warning look. "Perhaps we find the time for a chat sometime,Your Grace. His Majesty the King encourages his courtiers to get well acquainted with our English friends. The competition is over soon, I think, I have to return to my duty."
"Oh, we have to! There's no drinking companion like a Frenchman, I always say. Especially if you choose the wine." Charles laughed again, absolutely guilelessly.
"And no one who drinks like an Englishman," Guillaume replied. "À bientôt, Your Grace, then. Cathy."
Guillaume didn't bother to hide his smugness when he kissed Catherine's hand. His lips left a wet stain on the dark leather.
When he was gone, Charles grinned. "And, how was I?"
"It is the theatre's loss you have opted for court life. What an actor you would have become, celebrated by the masses and loved by the women."
"I see no difference to my current state."
"Ignorance is bliss." Cat kissed him. "I have to give him the chance to blackmail. Later perhaps, during the dance."
"Do it on the barge. I won't let that squid dance with you and his grease fingers would stain your dress."
"And I thought you didn't care about fashion."
"I know, I just like to surprise you from time to time. You know of course that you have to dance with me all night to make up for this?"
He lifted his left hand on which her nails had left pink traces.
"I better fetch a priest, you won't survive that wound."
"I would rather confess to you."
"What do you wish to confess, my child?"
Charles pulled her close. "Carnal thoughts."
His warm breath on her neck sent shivers down her spine but Catherine had to laugh.
"Of course. There are puddles deeper than you."
"In your sonnet you wrote that you could drown in the blue gulfs of my eyes."
Catherine raised an eyebrow.
"Not your sonnet? Well, it is hard to keep track, all the poems I receive every day." Charles carefully evade her nails by closing his own fingers around hers.
"Do you write them all yourself or why are they so poorly written?"
"Yes, continue, hurt my pride. It takes away the pain from my hand."
Cat had to laugh out loud. "You are a fool."
"I confess, I think I would look dashing in motley."
"You think you look dashing in everything."
"You think so too."
"Why have I married you again?"
"Now it's too late for reason, my lady." He kissed her cold fingers. "Will you dance with me tonight?"
"I might, my lord." Catherine turned away from him with a smile.
"How can I sway you, sweet Catherine?"
"Don't sway all that much tonight."
He laughed. "I vow that I will be a perfect gentleman."
"You should not make promises you cannot keep."
"I will woo you and I will win you." He grinned. Truly, he loved playing games so much, she thought she was married to a child.
There was applause at the other end of the sculpture lined path. Cat recognised Anne in her blue and golden cloak and the French king's mistress who wore her golden hair loose under a milan bonnet.
"Anne looks happy."
Charles smiled but Cat saw the strain. These two would perhaps never be friends and that was the only thorn in her side.
"I know she is looking forward to seeing the Queen of Navarre again."
Marguerite of Navarre was the French king's sister and the person Catherine had always admired most. When she had come to France as a little girl, she had been frightened of her, the most learned woman of Christendom. But the Queen of Navarre, who had been Duchesse d'Alençon back then, had not been proud and haughty and stiff at all. Catherine had been allowed to read to her and she had told her all about her books and her correspondence with Erasmus. Now, so many years later, she was still nervous to see her again.
"She originally refused to come. Francis then ordered the Duchess of Vendôme to welcome Lady Anne and tried to persuade his sister to receive the future Queen of England. Apparently, it worked, but do not expect her to be very welcoming. She does not approve of the king's fiancée, I fear."
Well, Charles didn't either. Marguerite had always liked Anne and Anne had admired and emulated her as a young girl. She would be hurt if the Queen of Navarre treated her unkindly.
"If she has decided to receive her, she will not be unkind. We were at her court at girls whenever Claude was pregnant and needed no assistance from two maids of honour. Anne has been so looking forward to seeing her."
"And so have you," he smiled.
"Of course. You have met her. She is so charismatic and impressive."
"She is impressive...but Francis finds her very changed. Her only son died a year ago, still a babe, on Christmas Day."
Catherine had heard that sorry tale. The Queen was over fourty, she could not hope for a son. She had only a daughter, a clever, spirited young girl. Of course she felt with Katherine of Aragon.
The guilt came without a warning. They were here and they were merry while the Queen was at home in some cold castle without anyone to distract her from her troubles. Cat had been her Jude. She had betrayed her Queen and here she stood and celebrated her illoyalty.
Anne waved, said something to the two kings at her sides, and together, they walked over to them, followed by a train of courtiers.
"And, which one do you find most impressive?" She was in a great mood, her cheeks flushed and her dark eyes sparkling with amusement. "This king," she touched Henry's arm, "singled a beautiful siren out as his favourite, while this king," she touched Francis' arm, "was fondest of an excellent likeness of the goddess Aphrodite. I cannot decide."
Catherine agreed. It was almost impossible to decide. Almost. Her favourite was a swan, not portrayed swimming, with its wings neatly folded and its long neck elegantly bowed. It had its wings half spread out, ready for flight, and the long neck was straight as a lance, the head raised high and the eyes focused on the far horizon.
"It is difficult indeed," Charles smiled, then turned to the statues. "But that swan has conquered my heart."
Catherine took his hand. "You have stolen my favourite," she accused him.
"And I thought I was your favourite, madame," he quipped and the French king laughed. "Mademoiselle Cathérine has always been fond of swans. I remember you used to wear one on a chain, made from mother of pearl and sapphires."
"I did." She was surprised he remembered.
"That sounds so very beautiful." The Duchesse d'Étampes seemed intrigued. "Swans are so elegant and strong. I like to watch them on the Seine or in the ponds in the gardens. Perhaps we will see some tonight in the barges. I am looking forward to the masque, it will be truly magnificent." She had a pretty smile and a soft voice.
"Oh, so am I. But we may not give away too much." Anne wore her usual smile, the one that spoke of secrets and gave promises. The masque was very… French. The costumes were light and airy and Cat imagined the whores of Ancient Rome had worn something similar. But this was France and Anne was about to be queen and there was nothing or no one who could stop her.
Henry looked at Anne with dark eyes. "Oh, I am certain tonight will be magical." He glanced sideways at his friend. "Don't you think so, Charles?"
Charles put a hand on Cat's shoulder, smiled and glanced into the distance where Laval was ordering about a few sculptors.
"Oh, yes. This night will hold a few surprises for some of us."
His gaze dropped to Anne and he smiled at her before winking at Henry.
Something was going on here and a quick look at Anne told Cat that she didn't know either. And the king smiled in a way that told them both he enjoyed his secret too much to give it away.
"I love surprises."
Bjosefine: Thanks for your review! That one really made me kick my behind and finish this chapter!
Unique16: Yes, children and heirs were such a big topic for the aristocracy and that really put pressure on women (yep, looking at you, Henry) and I just wanted to include that, too. :) Thank you for commenting!
ShinyRedPenny: Thank you so much for your sweet words of encouragement, I will look at your review whenever I feel that my English language skills are inadequate :D
Yes, Henry I'm-gonna-divorce-you-cause-you-don't-have-a-son Tudor is totally in the position to tell Charles not to pressure her ;) I have that part planned ut and it's going to be fun and drama and fluff. I'm not sure about the relation yet, maybe 15-70-15^^
I'll start my prayers tonight then! I also have to catch up with your stories actually, I had this pang of guilt everytime I was on ff. net so I never really read my faves. Also means I have something to look forward to!
Guest: I feel you! Perhaps it's because there was so much real life angst for Anne, we just want her to have the perfect happy ending in fiction at least.
Xenocanaan: I thank you for your review! Well there's more now and there will be more in the future. Pinky promise.
