The Queen and the Courtesan (30 page)

‘Of course, my love,' Henriette agreed, even as she secretly hoped otherwise. In the past such dalliances had always provoked jealousy in Henry, and brought him to heel. Let him see how little I need him, she told herself. Let him writhe in agony to hear of me giving pleasure to another. She hoped and prayed the ploy would work again. Even if Henry tired of the empty-headed Jacqueline, there would surely be others eager to replace her. One way or another she had to secure her own future.

‘Are you spreading the whispers?' she asked of her sister, ever reliable in such matters.

‘Exactly as you instructed.'

‘Then why is the King not pounding on my door? Try harder, you stupid girl,' Henriette snapped, peevishly pinching Marie-Charlotte's arm. ‘And make sure you feed the gossip into the right ears.'

But still the King did not come, was in fact said to be chasing Madame de Nevers again. Henriette was therefore overjoyed when Guise asked for her hand in marriage, which she gladly accepted. Marriage into the House of Lorraine would be a most satisfying revenge upon the King for his rejection of her.

There were other, surer ways of settling the score, such as those instigated by her own father, which at times still occupied the recesses of her mind. Her father and brother had risked all and lost. How much was she prepared to gamble to see her son upon the throne? Would not such a triumph mean that she could then grant them their freedom herself, as regent? A heady prospect.

The King, of course, was still alive and well, and for now Henriette hoped he might come to realize how much he missed and needed her. She longed for Henry to be tormented by jealousy, as in the old days of their passion. Failing that he could at least give the permission she sought to create a new future for herself.

Time enough to contemplate other measures if he failed to oblige.

Using false names to disguise their intentions, Guise put up the banns. But when Henry finally got wind of the scheme, as nothing could ever remain secret for long in this court, he put a stop to the plan at once. He had no more wish now for La Marquise to come too close to the throne than he had the first time she had considered marriage with Joinville, or any of the other
chevaliers
who had fancied her charms and recklessly offered for her. Were that to happen, say by her marrying into the House of Lorraine, she would become an even greater threat to the Queen. He absolutely refused to grant his permission, coolly reminding the reckless young duke of the number of times he'd needed forgiveness in the past for his indiscretions and offences.

‘I forbid you to pursue a purpose so distasteful to all those who have your honour at heart.'

The King's refusal brought fresh hope to Henriette. ‘There you are, you see, he does still love me,' she cried in exultation to her ever-patient sister. ‘Henry will be here to see me within the week.'

But he wasn't. The King did not come running to her side as he might have done in days gone by. He was weary of her tricks and schemes, and no longer felt the same desire for her. Clever she may be, but perhaps, on this occasion, too cunning for her own good. Even Henriette could see that in desperately attempting to win back what she had lost, she had succeeded only in extinguishing the dying embers of his spent passion. Henry was done with her. He had quite a different quarry in his sights now.

Oh, but how her heart beat with the need for revenge.

Charlotte was beside herself with excitement. Everything was going right for her at last and she couldn't be more happy. She was even about to dance in a royal ballet organized by the Queen herself. Her life thus far had been spent quietly at Chantilly with her Aunt Diane, Duchesse d'Angoulême, who until now had resisted all efforts to allow her to come to court.

‘The French Court is a wicked place,' the old lady would say to her niece. ‘I should know, as I was raised there, largely by Diane de Poitiers, mistress to King Henri II. Not at all a place for innocent young girls.' But being now somewhat old and infirm, and Charlotte only months from her fifteenth birthday, she had finally relented.

The event which had persuaded the old lady to change her mind was that Charlotte had become engaged to be married.

Weary of the endless offers for her hand her father, Henri de Montmorency, one of a long line in the family to be Constable of France, had invited the young Ducs de Roquelaure, d'Epernon, Zamet and Bassompierre to his house in order to choose one as a husband for her. Charlotte had hoped it would be the latter, as she was already most attached to him. Bassompierre was so handsome, and a perfect dancer.

‘When Father has chosen, will I then be able to go to court?' she'd asked her aunt.

The Duchess smiled, and kissed her cheek. ‘Charlotte, dearest, you are young, with all your life before you. I know you are eager to taste whatever excitements the court can offer, but proper arrangements need to be made. I will agree so long as you are first betrothed to be married. You will then be permitted to accompany your affianced to court, accompanied by myself as chaperone of course. But you must guard your chattering tongue, child, and mark well my warnings. Keep yourself chaste and pure until you are safely wed.'

‘Oh, I will, Aunt.' Excitement had bubbled up in her, and her hopes were high. Her father had always favoured Bassompierre, thinking him more worthy than most of the nobles who'd come panting at his door for love of her. But would he agree? ‘What if Bassompierre should say no?' she'd asked, her lovely elfin face suddenly pale with concern. The
chevalier
was so deliciously handsome that Charlotte could hardly bear the thought.

‘Why would he do such a foolish thing when you come with a substantial dowry of one hundred thousand
livres
?' her aunt had replied, giving one of her barking laughs.

Charlotte hadn't wanted to think too deeply about such practical concerns. She thought only of love and the gallant charms of her chosen
chevalier
. Seeing her niece's quick frown, the old lady softened a little to give her an affectionate hug, stroking back the fair curls that sprang with a life of their own above the high forehead.

‘How could he resist your fragile beauty, my sweet one? He will feel as if he has been granted possession of the crown jewels.'

The Duchess was proved to be entirely correct. At the end of the banquet, her father had brought the eager new suitor to meet her. ‘I have always loved you as a son,' he told Bassompierre. ‘Now I give my daughter to you in the full assurance that the marriage will be a happy one.
Mon fils
, behold the wife I have in store for you – embrace her.'

Bassompierre looked as if he was quite unable to believe his good fortune in securing such a prize, and far better than continuing to tangle himself with Marie-Charlotte. The deal, it seemed, was agreed.

‘Accept him, my dear, and you will make me the happiest of fathers.'

Charlotte was more than happy to do so. Blushing with delight she dipped a curtsey and readily gave him her hand to kiss. In truth she had no real choice in the matter, yet as well as being anxious to please her stern father, she was half in love with him already.

Instructions were immediately given to draw up the marriage contract without delay, but then Roquelaure and the other nobles advised caution. ‘If, Monsieur Constable, you have affianced your daughter without previously informing the King, it would be deemed an act of contempt which His Majesty never would pardon.'

Montmorency was obliged to accept the justification of this. He already had one son-in-law in the Bastille, Auvergne being the husband of his elder daughter. He certainly had no wish for another. ‘I see the sense in what you say. Unfortunately, His Majesty and I are not on the best of terms at the present time. We recently disagreed over a proposed alliance between my son and his daughter, the little Mademoiselle de Vendôme.' Clapping Bassompierre on the shoulder in a friendly manner, he continued, ‘Why do not you inform the King yourself, and seek his blessing?'

The young man looked stricken. ‘His Majesty will say that I have nothing to offer, and it is true. I am neither of princely birth, nor have a fortune to bestow on my intended bride.'

Charlotte listened to all of this with deepening fear and trepidation. Nothing must be allowed to go wrong. She desperately wanted to go to court, and to marry her
chevalier
.

‘You have honesty and good taste, sir. Charm and breeding, and I have long been fond of you. I see no reason why the King would not grant it.'

Roquelaure stepped quickly forward. ‘Perhaps we might be of assistance in this delicate matter by informing His Majesty of your intentions, perhaps tomorrow night at the
coucher
.'

Montmorency sighed with relief. ‘Thank you, good sir, that would serve well. Let it be known to His Majesty that I am ever mindful of my daughter's honour. I want only the best for her.'

So here she now was at the Louvre, dressed in a faintly ridiculous costume of green and yellow gauze, about to appear in the royal ballet as one of seven nymphs to Queen Marie's Diana.

‘It is all so thrilling,' she giggled to one of her fellow performers. A harp was playing and the girls were practising their steps and pirouettes with much laughter and teasing.

‘Look,' her companion whispered in sudden urgency. ‘See that man by the door watching us. It is the King himself.'

Charlotte laughed. ‘Are you sure? He looks so old.'

‘He
is
old, past fifty. You can see that by his grey hair and beard. But it is His Majesty, I am certain of it.'

‘Then let him see us dance.'

On impulse, Charlotte tossed back her blonde tresses and pirouetted gracefully across the room, then lifting her bow aimed the arrow at the King's breast. Laughing, he put up his hands in mock surrender, and with a teasing glance she sank into a swift curtsey before running giggling back to her comrades.

Henry remained where he was for some moments, watching the girl dance, admiring her lithesome figure, recalling her angelic little face, an innocent coquette smiling up at him. He had been informed by Roquelaure of the coming nuptials between this lovely creature and Bassompierre. Now, having remembered the first time he saw her at his children's baptism, he decided to investigate the matter more closely before granting his permission.

Following the ballet, Henry paid several more visits to the Queen's apartments, and on occasions spoke privately to the girl. He would flatter and tease her, could see that she was warming to him, no doubt thinking him a rather nice old man. He offered her gifts, not too many, as he had no wish to overwhelm her. She was such a gentle creature, a dear little angel who reminded him so much of his beloved Gabrielle. Henry tried to tell himself that not for a moment did he expect to become her lover, while he knew all along that was exactly what he longed for. He merely demonstrated kindness and affection, as a father might, although she appeared not to mind the difference in their years. And if at fifteen she was old enough to marry, she was surely of an age to know her own mind on how, and to whom, she granted her favours. He asked for her views on her coming marriage.

‘As my father has commanded me so to do, I am well content to accept the suit of Monsieur de Bassompierre.' Charlotte smiled, thinking the King sweet and caring. But Henry saw that she was head-over-heels in love with the scamp already, which was troubling.

The courtiers were up in arms over the alliance, which they thought entirely inappropriate. Other family members of the Montmorency House considered Bassompierre quite beneath them. Henriette had also heard the rumours and was furiously demanding that the King refuse to give his permission.

‘The scoundrel has been dallying with my sister for years. She even had a child by him. He has injured her greatly, has betrayed her under a promise of marriage, and should not be rewarded with so fair a prize.'

But the more Henry learned about the girl, the more time he spent in her company, the more Henry wanted her for himself. He did not see any problem with their age difference. He had never failed to win a woman; still thought of himself as reasonably good looking and a vigorous lover. And he was the King after all. The very idea of seeing her with Bassompierre was keeping him awake at nights, tormented with jealousy.

‘Mayhap the new husband and I could come to an agreement,' the King mused.

Roquelaure issued a warning, which Henry knew in his heart to be true. ‘Sire, if you marry her to Bassompierre he would quickly gain her affection, and she is so fond of him that she would likely remain a faithful wife. Your Majesty needs to consign her a husband who would be less demanding, and more agreeable to Your Majesty's terms.'

Henry leaned forward in his chair, taut with interest. ‘I am listening. Who do you suggest?'

‘The young Prince de Condé. As he is a Bourbon, a member of your own family, he is regularly at court, so you would daily meet her on intimate terms.'

‘Ah, that is true.' Henry was thoughtful. ‘But why would he agree? He is a Prince of the Blood and could marry whom he pleases.'

Roquelaure shrugged. ‘I'm not so sure that he could. Suspicion still lingers over his mother's possible involvement in the poisoning of his own father, your beloved cousin and comrade-in-arms, Henri, Prince de Condé.'

A shadow crossed the King's face. ‘That is true. He was not an easy man, being austere and filled with fervour for the reformed religion, but he was my very dear friend and cousin. His wife may well have been innocent, but it could never be proved.'

‘Furthermore,' Roquelaure continued, ‘his son is more interested in the chase, and in military matters, than feminine charms. I dare say he would be willing to allow Your Majesty precedence, so long as it was made worth his while.'

Henry beamed his pleasure. ‘I will speak to Bassompierre forthwith.'