“Do you like him?”
I turned to see King Louis approaching and dipped in a low curtsy.
He lifted me by the elbow. “Do you like him?”
“Very much.”
“He is yours.”
“Oh, no, Your Majesty, I cannot accept such an expensive gift.”
“You cannot refuse a gift from me.”
I clung to the beads in my palm. “Gift or no, we must not continue in this way.”
“I agree, that is why I summoned you here. Look, there is more.” He pointed to a velvet box on the table.
Perhaps these gifts were his way of severing with me? “Your Majesty, this is not necessary.”
He opened the box to reveal a gold necklace with three tiered strands of rubies. It gleamed in the golden sun, reflecting little fiery dots on the king.
“This is far too valuable.”
“You underestimate your worth.” He lifted the necklace and stepped behind me.
“Your Majesty, may I ask, what is the purpose of these gifts?”
“To honor you,” he whispered behind my ear.
The necklace lowered before my eyes and rested on my chest. The beads in my palm felt damp.
“Move your hair.”
I lifted it carefully, holding my breath, refusing to feel his fingers on my skin or remember how they’d felt last night.
“There.” He stepped around, one hand on my arm, and swept an approving gaze across my chest and neck.
I felt myself flush.
“Beauty enhances beauty.”
“I do not require you to do this.”
“I hope to do it often. And if you will accept me, you may ask for a gallery full of jewels, if it will keep you happy.” King Louis released my arm and stepped back. The look in his eyes changed, softened. For a moment he appeared beseeching. Almost an average man. He smiled. A real smile.
It warmed me to my toes.
“Look about you.” He swept his arm up and across the length of the gallery, and my eye followed the path of carved frames and marble statues. “I own the finest collection of beauty captured in the magic of artistry. Yet none of it reflects even a shadow of your perfect face.”
I glanced at La Joconde and pictured myself trapped within the frame rather than the mysterious woman who smiled back. He wanted to own me like some gilded prize. The rubies at my neck glittered as I turned to look at him.
His gaze was pleading. “I want you. Please accept my heart. Be my love.”
My eyes burned. “Be … your mistress? I cannot.”
He stepped close and grasped my arms. “It is true we cannot marry. But you will have first place in my heart, first place in your own household. I only require you to love me in return and allow me to lavish you as I please.”
“It would be wrong in the eyes of God.” My tongue tripped over the real reasons.
He squeezed my arms. “I am God’s appointed king. My cardinal will dispense pardons and prayers for us every day.”
“Society would never forgive such adultery.”
“They will when I give you a title, land, riches. No one would dare judge you.” King Louis lowered himself before me to become just a man. “When I rebuild the Château de Versailles, it will be the grandest palace in Europe. You shall have your own apartments and rule my heart as I rule France.”
Such a betrayal would shatter Madame and sever our friendship forever. And the Queen Mother would surely dismiss my family and humiliate them. “You offer an illusion of security.” I looked away.
He gave my arms a sudden shake that startled my gaze back to his.
His face was panicked. “What is it? Do not think about Madame. She is my subject and must answer to me. I will set it right. You have nothing to fear from anyone.”
I shook my head. Even as I looked into his eyes, I could feel myself change. I closed my heart, like the window of diamond-shaped panes of glass. Separating my soul from his, shutting out his affection, and sealing my fate.
“No,” he whispered. “Please.”
I forced myself to be silent and stiffened my spine. I answered him with a gentle stare.
His eyes, so unabashed, expressed hurt. He released me and stepped back, averting his gaze to the safety of the floor.
I reached behind my neck to release the necklace.
King Louis raised his hand. “Keep the gifts as tokens of my lo—” His hand dropped. He took a deep breath, then straightened his shoulders. “They are yours. Please keep them.”
I left the necklace in place and dipped in a curtsy of thanks. When I rose again, he had changed.
Lips in a flat line and eyes narrowed slightly, he smiled the Sun King’s smile. “Part of me knew you would refuse. Loyalty is a trait I admire.”
I studied my white knuckles.
“Look up, Frances. If you are going to burden yourself thus, you may as well do it with pride.” His voice was soft. “You will have to grow strong, I think, to endure the path you’ve chosen.” A shadow of sorrow passed over his face. Or was it a look of pity? Whichever it was, the man who had offered me his heart retreated, while the monarch slowly slipped back into place. “Loyalty such as you exhibit is a rare, strange thing,” he said. “You cling to it without fear of offending me.”
I dipped again to curtsy. “I am not without reverence, Your Majesty.” I held my low pose.
He took his time. Finally, he spoke. “Rise.”
When I met his glare, no shred of the man who’d offered me his heart remained. Now the Sun King, known for his meticulous planning and lofty goals, stood proud before me in his brilliant gallery. “Tell me, have you any affection for me?”
Tears stung the back of my throat. I swallowed them. You woke my spirit, dominated my dreams. “You have my utmost respect and admiration.”
“You allow me to take liberties with you, inspire me to offer all I own at your feet. You made me think you loved me. You confuse me.”
“If I have such feelings, I cannot allow them to develop. My obligations to—”
“If you have such feelings? I risked angering the crown behind the most fearsome naval power at sea for the sake of your love. Madame will tell her brother, the King of England, that I humiliated her. Do you know how many battleships I have? Not one! I didn’t do this for respect and admiration, damn it.” His voice cut through the shining room and echoed off the walls. “I risked war to have your love!”
My whole body trembled. I clung to the rosary beads in my palm.
“Tell me I was not wrong. Tell me.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks because … I could never tell him now.
He walked away a few paces, then back again with calculation in his eyes. “Your tears are proof enough that I was not wrong.” He paced away. “You put me at a disadvantage with England.”
“I beg pardon.” The ruby necklace seemed a heavy weight on my chest. My fingers stiffened over the rosary.
“Pardon she who shows loyalty to everyone but me? I have harbored your exiled family in France your entire life. Now you ask for more.” He stopped pacing and stood directly before me. “Swear fealty to me.”
“Pledge devotion to a French king?” I stammered. “Is that acceptable for an English subject to do?”
A bitter laugh escaped him, and he stepped close, his nose nearly touching mine. “That depends on who you ask, so be cautious who you tell. Because if you want my forgiveness today, I will at least acquire your precious loyalty to my crown. Now kneel.”
“Sire, I am of Stuart blood.”
“You’ll need that connection to repair the damage you’ve done between Charles and me.”
“Do you mean—I really have to go to England?”
His upper lip curled. “To England and to the English king’s bed.”
“You wouldn’t!”
He put his hands on my shoulders. “You’re more than just a Stuart. Your mother is a bastard. If I make that fact known, no husband will ever accept you.”
My mouth gaped wide. Mother.
“I know everything about the powerful men I allow into my country. And your grandfather would be none too pleased if you exposed him.” He pushed down on my shoulders. “Kneel. Or shall I call my guards?”
I slowly descended the length of his body until I was on my knees, my face before his groin. Still he didn’t budge. The English king’s bed. What grandfather? Mother is the bastard, not me.
“Repeat: I, Frances Stuart, once a subject of England, do hereby swear fealty to Louis the Fourteenth of France. I subject myself to his will and pledge to serve him faithfully in any capacity he requires for the duration of my life.”
When I’d spoken the words, he released my shoulders but did not back away. Nor did he command me to stand. Refusing to crawl away on my knees, I rose back up the length of his body on shaky legs. I had to turn my face to avoid brushing his erection. Sparks of heat flashed between us like the fiery little beams from the necklace.
When I finally faced him, the arousal flaring in his eyes told me I should have crawled. I turned to the parrot.
He grabbed my arm and yanked me back. He pointed in my face with his other hand. “Do not test me again.” He thrust my arm away and turned, walking to the exit.
I took a deep, shaky breath.
He called from the doors. “My first command is that you name the bird.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I muttered.
“You will call him Serment.” He chuckled, a sound more sinister than merry. “To remind you.” Musketeers pulled the doors closed behind him.
Serment. The French word for “oath.” I felt a desperate need to say a prayer. I looked down at my hands as I opened them, stretching my tingling fingers. But as I pulled the rosary beads from the deep indents they’d pressed into my palm, I couldn’t remember a single prayer.
* * *
I sat dazed in my chamber for the next hours, staring at the rubies. I’d gone in to apologize, been offered the world on a string, and emerged the daughter of a bastard, indebted to a king. Now I would have to go to England, and I couldn’t stop thinking of Buckingham and his wretched words; “when disaster befalls you, you will come to me to introduce you to King Charles.” I could never allow anyone to discover my mother’s illegitimacy. My fate was uncertain, but my sister might yet make an honorable marriage … No one can learn what has happened. My new pet bobbed his head up and down and stared at me. Perhaps Serment could be taken for Sir Ment in English.
A scratch from the door to Madame’s room startled me, and I scrambled to get up. I smoothed the front of my skirt and stepped through the door into the brightness of the larger chamber. My breath caught at the sight of the Queen Mother’s footman. He stepped aside. The Queen Mother herself sat on a red velvet chair, with my mother standing behind her, both their faces as smooth as marble. My cousin reclined on the bed.
“Frances. Come in.” The Queen Mother gestured servants away.
I dipped to a deep curtsy, as if into icy water. “Your Majesty, Mother, how pleasant. I didn’t know you were here.”
“It is not pleasant at all,” she said calmly. “Anne of Austria demanded I come hedge my child’s behavior. Imagine my humiliation.” She bent knuckles around her prayer book and pursed her lips. “Tell me exactly what King Louis and my daughter share.”
“Share?” I took a slow breath and thought carefully. “Well, they share a love for the Ballet des Saisons…”
The Queen Mother thudded her knee with her little prayer book. “Foolish girl. I know not whether to pity your simple mind or teach you the ways of this malicious world. I mean what sort of feelings do they share for each other? How can you live here at Fontainebleau and not have heard gossip about their love affair?”
I glanced at my mother and feigned a shocked expression. “Gossip? Oh, no, Your Majesty. I have heeded your instruction in this and avoided it. As you taught us.”
“You are either a great simpleton or a great schemer. You risk sacrificing my good favor to protect her reputation.”
My mother frowned.
“I would sacrifice much in my loyalty to Madame.” Madame glanced at me, a fraction of a moment.
The Queen Mother narrowed her eyes. “I wonder, then, why she is so displeased with you.”
“Let her be.” Madame sat up and made to reposition herself on the bolsters. I moved to assist her, and she let me. “Frances still has my favor.” She studied me briefly, with blank eyes, then looked away. “Such favor, in fact, I am recommending her for a coveted position.” Madame went on. “Charles will prepare a household for his new queen soon. Frances should be offered as a maid of honor for the English court.”
My mother stepped forward. “With respect, Madame, I do not—”
The Queen Mother held up her hand, silencing my mother. “He knows I will make the recommendations. He would ravage her, prey on her innocence.”
“He would adore her innocence.” Madame shrugged. “And he quite trusts my judgment, as his letters prove.” The hauteur in her tone shocked me. “She is the prettiest girl in all the world, the most fit to adorn his court.”
Mother and I studied each other. She looked helpless. I had to look away.
“Well, I am pleased to see you gain influence with Charles.” The Queen Mother seemed genuinely satisfied. “If you continue thus, he will come to rely on you in political matters as well. Remember, in everything, you must encourage him toward the Catholic faith. Confer with me whenever he confides in you.”
Madame frowned. “Charles hates your meddling. Perhaps I best deal with him on my own.” She waved her hand dismissively as she often did to servants.
The Queen Mother blanched. “Daughter, you know as well as I of the mistress who grips Charles’s heart. That crafty jezebel draws him dry as she wields his hand. Just how do you plan to become a greater force in his life?”
“Put your worries to rest.” Madame’s lips curled. “I learned how to control others from the world’s most ruthless mother.”
My eyes widened, but I dared not move lest they turn their venom on me. My mother lowered her gaze and the Queen Mother’s neck turned red. She stood, stepped toward the bed, and raised one bony finger just as a herald cried outside the main door. “The king! The king! Make way for the king!” The door opened and King Louis filled the space.
“Dear aunt, forgive my not receiving you earlier.” He put his hand out to the Queen Mother. “I knew nothing of your plans to visit.”
“Beloved Majesty and favorite nephew.” She gushed and bowed to kiss his ring. “Anne of Austria summoned me with urgent haste.”
“Ah, yes. Philippe has been bawling at Mother’s feet about my relationship with Madame again. He is jealous that his charming wife and not he holds my favor.” He stepped to Madame and presented his hand.
She hesitated to kiss his ring. Glimmers of gladness, hurt, then desperation played upon her features as she searched his face. I realized this was the first time she had seen him since last night; she probably had no notion of his offer to make me his mistress. Praise the saints. She slowly lifted her hand and laid it on his, as if she were the ranking royal.
He paused, then brought her hand to his own lips and kissed it. “I suppose he has a right to be jealous. Madame certainly has my heart.” He turned to the Queen Mother. “You need not get into such a fuss on Philippe’s account. Though I love her as a cousin and a sister, the rumors are baseless. We are not lovers.”
The Queen Mother studied the pair. They waited with pleasant, stone faces for her to accept their word.
After a long moment, she pretended to. “Of course not. Did you think I would heed malicious gossip? It is only born of envy, after all. But do use discretion, dears, when you are together. Give no one cause to criticize you.”
Madame waved away her advice. “We have devised a way to deal with it already. Isn’t that so, Louis?”
He smiled at her. “I just sent Louise de La Vallière a little gif
t before coming here.” Then King Louis turned to me. “We made additional plans, Madame, did we not?”
She followed his gaze to me. “Oh?” Her tone was grim.
King Louis clasped his hands behind his back and began a slow walk around the bed. I tried to back away but found I was already against the wall. “Are you sure you do not mind losing the fair and loyal Frances Stuart?”
Madame snorted. “I am willing to sacrifice for my brother’s sake.” Then, as if she sensed she were missing something, she leaned forward. My mother, too, took several steps toward us.
“I have considered this since we spoke last night,” he said. He was closer to me now. “And I find the idea appeals to me. Frances, would it please you to do my bidding?” He held out his hand for me to kiss.
Madame nearly sprang out of bed.
The hair at my nape rose. “Yes, Your Majesty.” I put my lips to his ring.
He let his hand linger, took it back slowly, then turned to Madame. “Any king would find her fascinating.”
Madame could not hide her pique and fell against the bolsters. “What made you change your mind?”
“She has proven herself most loyal.”
She shot me a curious glance. “Has she, now?”
King Louis looked Madame in the eyes. “She will befriend Charles, be my liaison to him, and use his ear on my behalf.” He turned and spoke to me. “You will convince Charles that I am his friend in everything.”
After a pause he turned to leave.
The shock in my mother’s expression was more than I could bear.
The Queen Mother jumped to the king’s side. “Your Majesty, surely you realize that my services are at your disposal. If you must convince my son of anything, please rely on me.”
“You? Didn’t you threaten never to speak to your youngest son Henry, if he didn’t convert to Rome? You turned him out when he refused. He had to beg just to pay his way to King Charles’s court.”
Girl on the Golden Coin: A Novel of Frances Stuart Page 6