“T-thank you, Your Highness.” I attempted a curtsy, but Francis kept my hands held fast in his.
“Jacques,” he barked.
The plumed courtier appeared beside of us, but I dared not draw my gaze from Francis’s. “Majesty?”
“Show our guests to their room. They are on their honeymoon, no? Give them the Ambassador Suite.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Slowly, Francis raised my hands to his lips and brushed a kiss across each before allowing them to sink back to my sides. Jean rose from his seat and took his place beside me. I was careful not to look at him, for fear my puzzlement at Francis’s display would be met with anger.
“Jacques, these are our most treasured guests. They must be treated as such.” Francis bowed deeply as Jacques ushered us toward the door. “You are both welcome in my country for as long as it pleases you to stay.”
“Merci beaucoup,” Jean managed.
As we stepped out into the stone hallway, I exhaled a sharp breath. “Praise God, Jean—”
The King’s voice interrupted my quiet prayer. “Monsieur, mendicité votre pardo. Might I have just a little word with you? Alone?”
Francis’s smiling face glowered from inside his study. The cloudiness had returned to his eyes, and a strange smile tilted his lips.
“Trust I will not keep you long from your most beautiful bride.”
An overwhelming sense of dread gripped my stomach as my husband stepped back into the King’s study. As Jacques pushed the heavy doors closed, I stared at Jean, and he stared back, unable and unsure of what to say. The emotion behind Jean’s piercing eyes mirrored mine. Fear.
The doors severed our eye contact as they closed with a sense of finality.
Click.
“Come, Miss.” Jacques’s words were heavily-accented English. “It was said by our most sovereign prince that you require the ambassador chambers. I trust you shall be quite pleased with the most exquisite accommodations in all of France.”
I willed the tears not to fall as I sat on the empty canopy bed that dominated the Ambassador Suite. I’d donned the fresh nightclothes that had been laid out for me, alongside a complementary pair for Jean, and watched from my westerly window as the sun sank until it disappeared over the horizon. As darkness descended outside, I turned toward the crackling fire that illuminated the inside of the sumptuous room. The orange glow was warm, comforting. Still, I was alone.
Jacques had been correct in his assumption—I was quite pleased with the Ambassador Suite. Deep blue curtains were held back from the window by velvet bonds that matched the trim of the bedspread.
A chess table, bathed in moonlight and set for two, waited patiently for the next players, while a writing desk, complete with its own candle sconce and footrest, sat near the fireplace. An ancient trunk stood watch at the foot of the oversized bed, while the portrait of a stranger petting his dog stared down at me from the far wall. Not too large and not too small, this room proved to be most cozy. At least, it would be cozy if Jean was here to share in the candlelit space with me.
Should he come back at all.
I glanced around and noticed for the first time a handful of recessed bricks at the head of the bed. “What’s this?”
Pins and needles pricked my legs when I stood, and it took a moment until I could walk. When the feeling returned to my feet, I climbed up to examine my discovery. “Well now,” I mused.
I jumped at the sound of my own voice echoing off the stones. Tucked against the back wall of the recessed bricks, stood a modest wooden cross. “Why, it’s some sort of a little shrine.”
Though the cross was just that, a simple cross and not a holy crucifix, and there were no statues keeping it company, I knelt to my knees before it. Perfect height.
I did the sign of the cross.
In nominae Patris, et Fili, et Spiritus Sancti.
A fervent prayer muddled my mind as Hail Marys escaped my lips.
Father, please watch over my husband.
An out-of-place creak pulled me from my prayerful trance. Slowly, I turned to discover a figure illuminated by the low glow from the fire. I gasped.
“I didn’t want to disturb you while you talked to the Almighty.” Jean’s voice was a cool splash of water on a hot summer’s day. “You are even more beautiful when you pray.”
I flew into his arms. “Oh, thank God. You came back to me.”
“Of course I did. Had it been up to me, I would have been here much earlier.” He stroked my hair. “Tell me, did they leave some of those fancy sleeping clothes for me, too?”
Ever polite and even more nervous, I pointed to where his sleeping clothes lay. “I’ll turn my back,” I mumbled.
Jean didn’t answer, so I averted my eyes and continued. “What did the King have to speak to you about that was so important that it lasted half the night?”
Jean stepped around and joined me on my perch on the side of the bed. Our bed. He covered my hand with his. “King Francis had lots to say. He most enjoyed telling me, in great detail, how Henry came to choose you as his next Queen. And why he went through the trouble of hosting all the Ladies-of-Choice in such a lavish and drawn-out display.”
I shifted my weight but was careful not to move my hand from under the warmth of his. “I have been curious about that myself.”
“It seems Lady Denny made it known at Court that she had two relations of marrying age living in her home. She also made it known that she would stop at nothing to see one of you—either her daughter or her niece—wed the King. He apparently had chosen you instead of Elizabeth before you ever knew what was at stake.”
Something soured in my stomach as I remembered the day Lady Denny dressed Elizabeth and me in our finest dresses for a party at court. “Someone was being knighted, she said, and we were to attend with her. I didn’t bother asking why she wasn’t there to attend the Queen, as it was her job as her Lady-in-Waiting. I just did as I was told.”
Jean rubbed his thumb across the top of my hand. “Did you meet King Henry then?”
I shook my head. “No. Not that I knew of, anyway. We stayed at Court only for a moment. We didn’t even get to watch the knighting ceremony. We were ushered in and ushered out just as quickly. A few weeks later, the courtiers sent word that they would be coming to dine at Throckmorton Priory, my home.”
