In this short sample, Henry VIII’s sister, Mary Tudor, has married old King Louis of France. Anne and her sister have the good fortune of serving her at the French court, however, it appears that the young Anne has not made a very good start. Will she stay or be sent away? And what is Louise of Savoy scheming? You’ll have to find out more when the book comes out in May!
‘In soft deluding lies let fools delight.’
Paris and Saint-Germain-en-Laye
Frozen with cold, I held a piece of linen soaked in lavender to my nose. The grande salle of the Hôtel des Tournelles stank, due to its proximity to one of the greatest sewers in Paris, and as I sat on the wooden bench, my fingers numb, I cursed a king too mean to light the fires. Rubbing my cold hands, I gazed around as people went about their business. Young pages, messengers, noblemen, and their ladies strolled past the magnificent tapestries, and I thought about the court at Mechelen and Margaret of Savoy. No doubt she and her ladies were returning from Mass now, for it was not long since dawn.
A young woman approached me and interrupted my daydreaming, her face unsmiling. ‘Madame will see you now if you would follow me.’
I rose from the bench just as I spied the queen at the far end of the gallery, tittering and laughing with my sister, her ladies, and a large entourage of gaily clad young gentlemen. The queen’s laughter rang out, and my sister gave me a playful wave before disappearing through the door. I walked on a little farther until the woman in front stopped at a large, oak door and knocked. The voice inside sounded muffled, but the woman opened the door, and as I entered, closed it behind me. Astrological charts and a myriad of documents lay scattered across the floor. On a table lay an unfurled scroll of handwritten dates, with drawings of the planets around the margins. In front of me stood Madame d’Aumont, dressed in her usual black damask, her face set cold and imperious, and not a look that boded well. I gave a deep reverence.
‘What in the name of Heaven do you think you were doing?’ she asked angrily, twisting the ring on her finger. I stared at the large, white opal – a magical stone that gives insight to the wearer – and my heart began to race. ‘Well? Get up and speak,’ she said, moving closer, ‘and do not play games with me, young lady. You are a bright girl, not a dolt.’
‘Madame, forgive me. Are you referring to the queen’s distress?’ I refused to be cowed.
‘You know very well what I refer to,’ she said. ‘I am the dame d’honneur here, and I will not have my authority undermined in this manner. What gave you the right – the right – to be alone with the queen thus? Anything might have occurred. She could have been in mortal danger.’
‘By your leave, Madame, the queen herself requested that all leave her presence and so I only did as I was instructed.’
She narrowed her angry eyes. ‘I instruct, mistress, I do the instructing!’ she screeched. ‘You have been here but five minutes and appear to feel it is your place to know what is best for the queen. Well?’
I felt my cheeks burn with indignation as I stood berated.
‘What you did was quite outside the order of how things are done at this court. Do you hear me?’
‘I do, Madame.’
‘Here, we have precedents. Was nothing taught you at the court of Savoy? Should the queen be distressed about anything, you must fetch me, regardless,’ she said, raising her voice as I opened my mouth to speak, ‘of the queen’s wishes. Although I stood outside the door, you rudely refused to let me in. Refused! How dare you behave in such a manner? I should have you whipped, sent from the court as quite unsuitable, and packed off back to England. It has been done before to other such busybodies.’
‘Oh, Madame!’ I decided that a defiant stance might not be the best approach after all. ‘Please, please forgive me. I did not mean to offend you. I beg you not to send me away, for I mean only to have you satisfied with my conduct.’
One of the dogs by the fire whined for the raised voices had unsettled him.
‘Madame d’Aumont, if you please,’ came a calm voice from behind the high-backed chair in the corner. ‘You are frightening the girl.’
With a heavy sigh, a woman rose up and turned to face me. She held an astrological chart, and I dropped a curtsey, not daring to look upon the dark, looming figure of Louise of Savoy.
‘Get up, dear, would you care for some cordial?’ she asked kindly, clicking her fingers to a page to hand me a glass from the table. She put the chart down. ‘Really, such a fine intellect should not be cowed with harsh words,’ she chided, glancing towards the duchess. ‘Now, drink and recover your composure.’
I did as she commanded, nervously eyeing Madame d’Aumont, who appeared fit to burst like an overblown bladder. Louise, meanwhile, watched me with unblinking eyes, the folds of her ruby red gown falling like rivulets of blood in the candlelight.
‘Are you happy here?’ she asked with mild concern, plucking a grape from a nearby bowl. ‘You should be.’
‘Oh, indeed, Madame, although I have been here but a short while, and – and some of your ways are new to me.’
‘But you would like to stay – yes?’
‘Indeed, my lady, very much so.’
Louise walked over to the window and gazed down towards the noise outside. I could hear the queen’s laughing voice and recognised my sister’s high-pitched squeals. Barking dogs added to the commotion, and obviously, some great amusement was taking place below.
‘Such a pretty girl,’ said Louise, as she gazed through the thick, green glass. To my dismay, I heard my sister shriek again. The unmistakable Boleyn laugh sounded most unbecoming. ‘Tut, tut – English girls, what am I to do with them?’ she continued.
My heart sank as I feared we were both about to be sent back home - Mary for laughing too loudly, and me for having offended the dame d’honneur. I thought of my father and how he would be outraged. We had been here in France but a few weeks and now we would return home in disgrace. How humiliating.
‘Our queen,’ said Louise, moving from the window, ‘is young and needs guidance, for she is apt to be wilful and domineers others to get her way. I cannot quite decide if she is a foolish girl – or rather cunning. Oh, I cannot fault her behaviour to our beloved king and the people adore her, but she is – headstrong. You understand me?’
I nodded, but, in truth, I did not. The queen had behaved impeccably at all the ceremonies and celebrations, impressing the ambassadors with her dignity and grace.
‘Yes, Madame,’ was all I could say.
‘My dear, when you get to my age you learn to read people, to understand their true motives, and I understand the new queen very well. I know that she adores the exalted position of Queen of France, with its gowns, gifts, jewels, and attention. But she is not wise and puts her own needs and desires before all else. A queen cannot do that, and it is to this last matter that I must express my concerns.’ She paused and studied my face as if expecting some response.
‘How much do you wish to remain here?’ She took another sip of wine.
My expression immediately brightened. ‘Oh, more than anything, Madame!’
She smiled graciously. ‘So you will help me?’
Hôtel des Tournelles, Paris.
Mary Tudor and King Louis of France