The Reluctant Queen (20 page)

She did what came naturally to her. Gabrielle set out to seduce Bellegarde, and captivate him all over again. ‘It is worth suffering the King’s unwelcome attentions simply to be here at the camp near you, my love.’

The young courtier eyed her warily. ‘You’ve kept me dangling overlong.’

‘I have, and deeply regret it, but you know that I am entirely yours.’

‘And what of the Duc de Longueville?’

Ah, so rumour and malice had done its worst. Gabrielle gave a dismissive little laugh. ‘A mere flirtation. The fellow was besotted, but he means nothing to me. And what of Mademoiselle de Guise, do you truly favour her above me?’ Gabrielle pressed her luscious body against his, teased his mouth with the tip of her delicate pink tongue, parting it, invading it, making him want her. ‘I thought you were panting for love of me?’

He was, he ached for her, his loins bursting with need, but Bellegarde hesitated, fearing the wrath of his sovereign. Yet how could he resist her when she was so very desirable? Mademoiselle de Guise was forgotten and Gabrielle was soon triumphantly claiming that she regarded Bellegarde as her affianced husband-to-be, that she had given her permission for him to speak to her father.

Realizing there was no help for it, the Marquis finally agreed to his daughter’s betrothal. ‘So long as the King raises no objection,’ he wisely added.

Gabrielle went at once to Henry and begged the King to give his consent to her marriage with his Grand Equerry, believing that she had at last won her heart’s desire. ‘You will consider my future happiness in this request, Sire?’

‘I will consider your future with all seriousness,’ Henry agreed.

The moment she was gone, he summoned the equerry in question. ‘What is this I hear? Mademoiselle d’Estrées begs leave for permission to wed you. Did we not agree that you would cease to press your suit?’

Bellegarde cringed with embarrassment before his king. ‘Your Majesty, you have ever been aware of my admiration for the lady. Now I have spoken with her father he has accepted my suit and we are betrothed.’

Henry was in no mood to tolerate romantic pig-headedness. ‘And you are aware, sir, that I am minded to suffer no rival, neither in war, politics, nor in love. You would do well to heed my words. In fact, I recommend you leave Senlis without delay.’

Bellegarde had no alternative but to obey. Before the day was out he had left the camp. How could he argue with the King?

When Gabrielle learned of her lover’s departure she fell into a tantrum, falling on to her bed in tears. She had dallied too long with Bellegarde’s affections. She should have accepted him at the first. Now it was too late. ‘Am I to be ruined simply for inciting the passion of a king? It is so unfair, so unjust.’

Juliette ran to fetch their father and the Marquis sternly bid his daughter to view the situation more sensibly. ‘Many would welcome finding themselves so desired. You have won the love of your sovereign, what can be so wrong with that? Calm yourself, girl.’

Gabrielle was anything but calm. She did so hate to be bested. Like a spoiled child deprived of something upon which she’d set her heart, she acted without thought or reason, almost enjoyed wallowing in fury and outbursts of emotion, stamping her foot and sending her maids scurrying about in a panic.

‘Tell His esteemed Majesty he will not win me by force and malice. Dearest Papa, you must speak for me, or my reputation will never recover.’

Hesitantly, and riddled with nerves, the Marquis agreed to do his best. He politely requested an audience and begged the King to allow the marriage to go ahead. Unfortunately, Henry was obdurate.

‘Bellegarde has been banished. Perhaps I could speak with your daughter. I may be able to reassure her.’

‘By all means, Sire. She is in a dreadful dither, but then that is girls for you.’ The Marquis would do what he could for his child, save for offending his king.

That same afternoon Henry visited Gabrielle in her chamber, and reiterated his great love for her. ‘I have come to console you, my sweet. Do you not see how I love you so much that I can bear no other man to be near you?’

Gabrielle faced Henry red-eyed and furious. ‘Sire, it is useless. I will not listen to your pleas. You exercise a cruel tyranny and ruin my reputation and good fortune.’ Then falling to knees before him, she tried a softer approach, pleading with the King for his mercy. ‘Monsieur de Bellegarde offered for my hand in all honour. Let me accept, I beg of you. It is all I desire.’

‘It cannot be done. Bellegarde is banished.’

Gabrielle leaped to her feet and stormed out, caring nothing for the etiquette one should practice before one’s sovereign lord. Going straight to her chamber she ordered her maids to start packing at once. ‘We are going home to Coeuvres. I will not be dictated to, not even by a king.’

And before the day was out, she too had left Senlis.

Henry took out his disappointment on the battlefield, determined to bring that moment when he finally held the crown of France in his hands one step nearer. The blockade of Paris was not working, but in his favour was the fact that his enemy was divided, unable to agree on whom they would select to replace him, or how this could be achieved.

‘I am going to pursue the enemy, and in a week or two
ma belle
will hear what gallant exploits I have accomplished for love of her!’

As if the battle for a throne and the loss of his adored Gabrielle were not enough to contend with, the worrying situation of his sister, the Princess Catherine, had reached no resolution either.

The offer of marriage from James IV was making little progress and Henry thought he may well have to look elsewhere, both for a husband for his sister, and funds for his campaign. But he was increasingly determined not to let her have the Comte de Soissons, as the fellow was developing ambitions of his own to wear the crown. A staunch Catholic and a Prince of the Blood, since he too was a Bourbon, the people might easily accept him.

Henry knew Catherine to be stern, particularly with regard to religion, rather tending to take after her mother in that respect. So it did not surprise him when she wrote swearing a vow of chastity if she was not permitted to marry the man she loved, albeit if that man was a Catholic.

‘What can you expect?’ said the note from Corisande that accompanied this declaration. ‘She is not happy over your refusal to give consent to this love match.’

Women, they were the most delectable creatures, and the most infuriating.

Henry tossed Corisande’s letter aside without even troubling to read the rest of it, and, snatching up his quill, wrote again to Gabrielle, ordering her back to court, yet knowing she may not even read this missive. He had already sent several and so far had received not a single reply. Once written, and with all his heart poured into it, the King handed the letter to Juliette, urging the young woman to add her own pleas to his.

Juliette, fearing that her sister may indeed have gone too far by letting her temper get the better of her, attempted to make amends. ‘You must forgive my sister, Sire, for she lacks experience and courtly reverence. She has never been one for shy reserve, and dreads the anger of our father.’

If Henry thought this remark strange, since he’d never seen any evidence of violence in the placid, long-suffering Marquis who could not even control his own wife let alone his six daughters, he chose to say nothing. With his usual good will he simply accepted the apology at face value. Henry was miserable without Gabrielle, and would do anything to have her back at court. ‘I draw hope from your gentle assurance.’

‘There has been no blot upon my sister’s character until now, Sire,’ Juliette continued, stretching the truth somewhat. ‘She has always been just and considerate, accomplished and affectionate. I am certain all can be resolved, given the will.’

In the weeks following her departure from the camp at Senlis, several letters arrived at Coeuvres from Henry. Gabrielle ignored every one. They came too from her father, but she treated those with equal disdain.

Madame de Sourdis, who at great inconvenience to herself had given chase to her fleeing niece, did her utmost to bring the girl round. ‘You really must come out of this pet, child, or you risk offending the King,’ she chided, fanning her heated face with a fan as she sank on to the sofa beside her niece. She really couldn’t take these headlong dashes across country, nor these emotional tantrums. Far too exhausting. ‘Dear girl, you will be the death of me, and your dear papa too, I shouldn’t wonder. I am quite worn out with these shenanigans.’

Gabrielle lay back on the cushions, faint with misery. ‘Oh, I do wish I’d accepted Bellegarde long since. What a fool I have been! Now my reputation is ruined! Everyone believes I am Henry’s mistress already. No one will credit the fact that I would dare to refuse a king, and that I have sworn to choose my own lovers in future.’

Her aunt trilled with laughter. ‘I can see why that might well be the case. And mayhap the gossips have a point. You could hold the world in your pretty hands if you would but use your wit. Forget romance and handsome young courtiers, how will they serve you? Think of the money and the power.’

‘But I am in love!’

‘Tch! What does love signify?’ Madame de Sourdis fluffed out her skirts, recalling her own rapacious youth with fond nostalgia. Fortunately she’d managed to enjoy both fortune and pleasure, if not necessarily from the same source. And continued to do so. ‘Love will soon fly out the window when poverty strikes. Did you not enjoy the last time you were at court? All the pretty gowns and fine jewels, the junketing and dancing and such?’

Gabrielle sat up, dabbing at her eyes with a lace kerchief, beginning to wonder if her temper had perhaps led her along a path to obscurity. She did indeed enjoy new gowns and fine jewels, and all the accoutrements of court life. She enjoyed having men grovel at her feet, had already benefited from the favour of a king, and a cardinal, and found it really quite exciting and not at all onerous. In fact, she’d relished the power she’d held over them, however transient. That was the problem, of course. What would happen to her when the King tired of her?

‘I would far better be settled in a respectable marriage with a man that I love, and be a duchess no less.’

Madame de Sourdis was pensive for a while as she considered the pros and cons. ‘The status of a duchess is a fine and noble one, and I applaud your loyalty to your lover, despite his having been banished from court. But I fear you do not consider the precariousness of the situation. Kings are accustomed to having their own way, even this one who, good hearted though he may be, is as obstinate as any once he has set his mind to something.’

She reached for a brush and began to smooth her niece’s hair, knowing that it always calmed her. ‘Yet you, my dear, are in a position to advance your family, and yourself in the process. Would you not wish to see a place at court for your own darling papa, for my dear husband your uncle? For myself?’ And my lover too, Madame de Sourdis thought.

Gabrielle was growing confused, not knowing what to do for the best. The strokes of the brush soothed her and she wondered if she had been wise to indulge in such a tantrum before the King. She had indeed enjoyed court life, and she dearly loved her father who was far more agreeable and patient with her than her mother had ever been. Yet the image of her darling Bellegarde would not leave her.

‘But Papa already has a title, and is a member of the Royal Council. Must I relinquish the prospect of marriage simply for more honours?’

‘Whyever not, when there is so much more to be achieved? It will not be so unpleasant in the King’s bed. No one has complained thus far.’

Gabrielle’s expression remained mulish. ‘No one would dare.’

Madame put down the brush and gathered Gabrielle’s hands in her own. ‘Kings do not generally like to be crossed, and despite his equable temper Henry IV will lose patience in the end. What then will happen to your poor dear father? The Marquis might suffer worse than Bellegarde. He could not only be banished from court, but lose his titles, even his lands and income – or worse.’ Madame de Sourdis met her niece’s shocked expression with a steady gaze.

‘Oh, my goodness, you are surely not suggesting that he would throw Papa into the Bastille?’

‘Kings have done worse. It is time to set aside this silly selfishness and think of your family and the future. Now I will hear no more on the subject. You may safely leave this matter in my hands.’

When Gabrielle’s father again asked for an audience, Henry was more than ready to oblige, hopeful that at last she may have succumbed.

Gabrielle was being prepared as if she were a bride, her silken skin bathed in milk and smoothed with scented oil. A deal had been struck, gaining favours and positions at court for her father, her uncle, and her aunt’s lover. Madame de Sourdis had organized the preparation of a sumptuous feast as if this were indeed a wedding, and was even now issuing orders left, right and centre, revelling in the excitement.

‘He will be kind,’ she assured her niece, ‘and you are not unfamiliar with this situation.’

Indeed she was not. Having been bargained for so many times before, Gabrielle had foolishly believed she would be left alone to choose her own lover in future, and a husband. Now she’d been sold again, to the new King. No doubt at the highest price yet. Henry was certainly not her choice. He was thirty-eight years old, almost twenty years older than herself, fairly tall and broad shouldered as you would expect in a soldier. He had a long face with a square chin and beard, and hair that was turning grey. In his favour, his eyes were bright and merry, really quite mesmeric.