The Queen and the Courtesan (9 page)

Marie was feeling equally shaky, but putting a gentle hand on her companion to calm her, urged her to stop. ‘You go and let in the King. I shall finish adjusting my dress.'

But it was too late. Henry had pushed open the door and was already striding into the room. Ignoring Leonora completely, he beamed down upon his new bride. ‘Madame, how delighted I am to see you at last.'

Marie was about to sink into a curtsey but instead found herself enveloped in a warm embrace. ‘And I you, Sire,' she gasped, rather breathlessly.

‘I regret that affairs of war kept me from meeting you at Marseilles, but I believe you were well received. Our meeting has been too long in coming, but here we are now, and I welcome you with all my heart.'

Marie looked up into the merriest dark eyes she'd ever seen, set beneath a high forehead, which must surely be indicative of a sharp and inquisitive mind. His hair was a tangle of thick black curls, the nose long and straight, the chin pointed. She had heard that Henry was an affable, good-natured fellow with a droll wit. Even-tempered and easy-going, yet a fine brave soldier who was fearless in battle. Yet he could take criticism and was said to be willing to listen patiently to advice, even if he did not necessarily take it. Marie speculated on how well he might welcome advice from a new wife. Not that she had any intention of offering any right now as he bowed over her hand, cradling and kissing it with great affection.

He was known as a gambler and a sportsman, an adventurer who laughed at life and went about his duties with a Gascon song upon his lips. But what none of her advisers had found the words to express was that indescribable something which made him irresistible to women. As Marie felt her heartbeat quicken she knew that she was no more immune to his charm than any other. But she also recognized in that shrewd gaze a sparkle of interest in herself, which was most flattering.

‘Madame,' he said. ‘I find myself embarrassed.'

‘How so?' He was still holding her hand, smoothing the back of it with his thumb, a sensation that was having a most disturbing effect upon her.

‘The fact of the matter is that so eager was I to come to you that I arrived earlier than expected, and no room has been prepared for me. I fear I am without a bed for the night.' He glanced meaningfully over her shoulder to the commodious bed where she had slept alone until now, waiting for him.

Marie's heart almost stopped beating. She understood well enough his meaning, and the kick of excitement that beat in her chest told its own tale. ‘I have room enough in mine for two,' she told him with a smile.

He returned the invitation with a kiss. ‘I rather hoped that may be the case.'

It was a night that Marie would never forget. She took him to her bed gladly, this stranger who was her husband. And virgin though she undoubtedly was, she knew instinctively there was nothing to fear from this man. With languid courtesy he made her ripe for love, kissing her mouth till it was rosy from his kisses. Her tongue moved shyly against his, uncertain how to please him, how to respond. Her mind was a torrent of emotion, cheeks flushing with hot desire when he touched places never before explored, which only made her want him all the more.

This was not just a man, this was a
king
, and her
husband
. And for all she might be an Italian princess of royal blood, she was but an untried girl of little beauty, with no experience of men. Why would he find anything the least attractive about her? Yet for some reason he did.

‘You have known no man before?' he softly enquired.

‘None,' she replied in a breathy whisper. ‘I am ignorant of what I . . .'

‘Hush,' he murmured against her soft lips. ‘I shall be your teacher.'

And he was. Taking his time he taught her the exquisite ecstasy of loving. He gentled and caressed her till she purred with pleasure. Marie had no recollection afterwards of how he had gone about removing her clothing, but somehow he had managed that seemingly impossible task with commendable skill in no time at all.

And lying naked beneath him she felt no shyness, only a delicious vulnerability.

He poised himself over her, holding back while he nibbled her ear, trailing yet more kisses along the sensitive skin of her throat. Then curling his hands beneath her buttocks he lifted her to him and took her, at first gently and then with more force as he sank deeper. Marie cried out, although not with pain. Never had she known such joy, such delight. Was this then how love felt? She saw now that all her life she had ached with loneliness, a hollow emptiness deep inside that only this one man could fill.

A thrilling warmth spread through her, and as his mouth grazed her breasts she arched her back, wanting more, needing to be a part of him.

He had not come to her powdered and scented, as the fops and dandies seen about court. He had come to her as an ordinary man, a soldier, one seemingly impatient to bed her.

He had wanted to stay with her this night, therefore he must like what he saw.

He desired her.

He might even love her, as she already loved him.

They were married the next day in a ceremony officiated by the Cardinal Legate who had conducted the proxy wedding in Florence, although the royal couple had arrived two hours late for the High Mass beforehand. Henry had insisted on making love to her all over again at first light, as if he couldn't get enough of her.

‘I much prefer to make love than war,' he told her with a teasing smile.

Now, as Marie knelt beside her new husband, she felt deeply content. Dressed in a gown of crimson, blue and gold, fashioned in the Italian style and glittering with jewels that represented a goodly portion of her dowry, she looked a queen in every respect, even one not yet crowned. About her neck she wore the valuable pearl necklace, given to her by the King, but the most magnificent ornament consisted of an octagonal diamond brooch. Worn on her stomacher it was framed by several smaller stones, each enclosing a portrait in enamel of one of the princes of her house, beneath which hung three large teardrop pearls. It became known as the Queen's Brilliant.

Henry, too, looked magnificent in
haut-de-chausses
of white satin, elaborately embroidered with silk and gold, a black velvet cape draped from one shoulder. Upon his head he wore a velvet toque, rather in the fashion of that once worn at the French Court by Henri III. It bore a string of costly pearls and a regal star of diamonds. Throughout the ceremony he would constantly smile at her, or secretly give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Had a royal bride ever been more fortunate, she wondered.

The ladies and gentlemen of the court attempted to outdo each other by their own grandeur, looking very like strutting peacocks with their feathers, satins and silks in brilliant colours, their ermine and lace, powder and paint. Even the high altar likewise blazed with gold and precious stones, the scarlet robes of the prelates and priests no less glorious.

At the end of the ceremony, gold and silver coins were thrown to the crowd, and the court processed in stately fashion to the palace, to begin the celebrations.

The son of Gabrielle d'Estrées, the little Duke of Vendôme, was also allowed to join in the festivities and Marie took quite a delight in him. ‘He is a charming child, Henry, and must feel free to visit me at any time.'

The King, who was deeply fond of all his children, even though none of them were legitimate, smiled his approval. ‘I am glad to see you so happy.'

How could she not be happy with a bridegroom so attentive? Marie was caught up in a whirl of enchantment. She fell more in love with her husband with each passing day.

The honeymoon lasted for more than a month, and despite being obliged to deal with some matters of State, not least the dispute over Saluzzo, Henry was most diligent in pleasing his new wife. He was indeed well satisfied with her. ‘Is she not an elegant, charming and handsome woman? She has quite captivated me,' he would say to his friends and courtiers.

They would nod and smile then whisper behind their hands, knowing that the King wrote every day to the Marquise, and that all too soon the honeymoon would be over.

The disputes between the French and Italian nobles did not ease and one morning Rosny, convinced he was losing influence, came to see the King. ‘May I recommend, Sire, that you arrange an early departure for the Queen's half-brother, Don Antonio, and her cousin, the Duke of Bracciano. They have served their purpose, and the presence of so many Italians in the Queen's household is creating discord.'

Henry frowned, giving serious consideration to the suggestion. ‘I confess I have been irritated by their condescending manner, but I have no wish to offend the Queen. Of course, she would still have her favourite, Donna Leonora, with her.'

Rosny cleared his throat. ‘I beg you, Sire, to dismiss La Galigai also, together with her lover, Concini. He is profligate and self-seeking. The woman may appear quiet and timid, but she is neither ineffectual nor lacking in ambition, although I suspect she's gullible to the fellow's charms.'

Henry laughed. ‘She is a mouse, and the Queen loves her.'

‘I fear the pair intend to establish themselves at any cost in order to make their fortunes in our land, not necessarily in the Queen's, or Your Majesty's, interest.'

‘And I think you make too much of this, although I agree that I too am weary of the petty squabbling between these two factions. But surely we can find a less radical solution.'

Rosny was disappointed, but did his best not to show it. ‘Perhaps, if Your Majesty were to draw up a list of appointments for the Queen's household, the woman could at least be deprived of some of her power.'

Henry agreed, and granted the post of household superintendent to the Duchesse de Nemours. Madame de Guercheville was made
première femme de chambre
. But the coveted title of
dame d'atours
that Donna Leonora had expected for herself was given to Madame de Richelieu.

When the King presented her with the list, Marie was disturbed to find there wasn't a single Italian name on it. Wisely she chose not to comment on this fact, as she was equally tired of the quarrels and silly arguments. But she did make a stand on behalf of her favourite. ‘I cannot agree to this last appointment,' she protested. ‘I wish for Donna Leonora to remain in the position of mistress of the robes that she has been so ably fulfilling these last months, albeit in an unofficial capacity.'

Surely, even her uncle would consider she'd waited long enough before making this request? But, motivated by fondness for her old friend, and a generous heart, she did not stop there. ‘I would also ask Your Majesty's consent for Donna Leonora's immediate marriage with Concini, whom I intend to make my chief equerry.'

Henry was instantly irritated, and bluntly refused. ‘I believe I have made my wishes quite clear, Madame.'

‘And do I have no say in my own household?' Marie was distraught, her dark brown eyes instantly filling with unshed tears. ‘I see no reason why Donna Leonora cannot be allowed this small happiness.'

The King was at once discomforted by the sight of his wife's distress, and attempted to mollify his decision with a compromise. ‘If the pair are determined to marry, then they must return forthwith to Florence.'

The prospect of losing Leonora was too much for her to bear and Marie burst into tears. ‘How can you be so cruel as to deny me my only friend and companion?' She felt deeply hurt and angry by the King's lack of sensitivity for her feelings.

Henry, however, alert to Rosny's warning, stood firm, which only brought out the worst of Marie's own stubbornness. She did her utmost to persuade him, hoping he would soften, or grow weary of the argument, but to no avail. In the furore, Madame de Richelieu resigned, but the office of
dame d'atours
was given to the widow of a brave soldier and not to her beloved Leonora. It appeared to be a stand-off between the royal couple.

News of this argument somehow reached the ears of the Grand Duke and Marie's uncle wrote of his disappointment that she should so soon fall into a quarrel with her husband.

‘I could have disposed of your hand to the Duke of Braganza, or the Duke of Parma, and thus doomed you to a career of comparative obscurity.' He wrote at length, upbraiding her for her folly. ‘You have alienated your royal husband by paying heed to these audacious intriguers.'

Feeling herself even more neglected and ignored, Marie miserably replied, ‘I am without influence. The King is governed by La Marquise, therefore I intend to retain the friends of my youth.'

Perhaps moved to pity by her distress, Henry relented his stance a little. He would not sanction an appointment in the Queen's household for La Galigai, but she could remain in France.

‘So long as she seeks neither office nor precedence.'

It had been an unfortunate incident, and although Marie felt her stubbornness had won her some sort of victory, she hated the fact that this had been their first matrimonial dispute. And the first seeds of discontent had been sown.

The day came when the court set out on its regal progress towards Paris. But after only a few miles, anxious to escape the petty bickering of courtiers and find some release in the arms of his mistress, the King came to the Queen with an apology. ‘My love, though it breaks my heart to leave you, I must make haste to the capital. I need to conclude the treaty with Savoy as I have neglected state affairs too long.'

‘Oh, but can I not ride with you?' The thought of yet more official functions, without her husband at her side, filled Marie with dread.

‘There is no need of that. Our parting is but temporary. You shall take your time and enjoy the sights of your new kingdom.'

Marie was disappointed, but dutifully expressed her understanding. ‘If I have offended you then you must tell me, so that I can put the matter right.'