Royal Road to Fotheringhay - Plaidy Jean (хороший книги онлайн бесплатно .txt) 📗
“I … I had no idea that I should find you here, Madame,” said Mary. “I came to look for Fleming.”
“You are just in time to say good-bye to her.”
“Good-bye!”
Mary forgot ceremony. She ran to her aunt and threw her arms about her.
“Dearest Aunt Janet, what does this mean?”
“I… I … I am going away.”
“Oh, no, no!” cried Mary. “Is it… because of the King’s child?”
Catherine interrupted. “So the Queen of Scots shares the knowledge of your lechery?”
Mary said: “Madame, Lady Fleming is my governess.”
“No longer, my child.”
“No longer!”
“Lady Fleming is no longer considered a person fit to hold that position.”
“But who says so?”
“I say so.”
“Madame, Lady Fleming is my aunt.”
“We all have our disreputable relations. Pray do not apologize for her.”
“I … I wish to have her with me.”
“My dear Reinette, you are in the charge of the King and myself and we have decided otherwise.”
“I… I do not understand.”
“I am glad of that. I had feared that under the influence of your lecherous relative you might have become quite depraved.”
“Please, Madame, do not torment us.”
“I? I have nothing but your welfare at heart. Young girls can quickly fall into trouble, particularly if they are fairly handsome and have a good opinion of themselves. I have a new governess for you. She will come to you this day. You will be pleased to hear that Madame de Paroy is taking over those duties which Lady Fleming has proved unworthy to perform.” The Queen smiled and turned to Lady Fleming. “In an hour—do not forget.” And to Mary: “Madame de Paroy will be with you shortly.”
The Queen walked out of the room and Lady Fleming threw herself on to her bed and gave way to wild weeping.
Mary stood still, her face white and angry, staring at the door.
THE QUEEN OF FRANCE brought the woman into the apartment. Madame de Paroy could not hide her satisfaction, and the Queen was smiling blandly.
“Ah, Madame de Paroy, here are your charges.”
The four little girls had arranged themselves behind Mary.
“The Queen of Scots waits to welcome you,” said Catherine.
Mary’s eyes were sullen. She had seen the King. She had entreated him not to send Lady Fleming away and had begged him not to put Madame de Paroy in her place. The King was as kind as he always was; but he was ill at ease. He had said very kindly that such matters were the business of ladies. It was not his province to appoint a governess for his dear daughter of Scotland. He wished to please her, he wished to make her happy; but he was sure the Queen had the same intentions towards her. It had been necessary for her Scots governess to go away—there were matters beyond the understanding of little girls—and she must trust her guardians to do what was best for her.
In despair Mary had sought out Diane. Diane received her with the utmost affection.
“My dearest child,” said the King’s mistress, “there are matters which you are too young to understand. Lady Fleming has to leave Court, and Queen Catherine would deeply resent any interference in this matter of choosing your governess. She has your well-being at heart. You may trust her to do what is best for you.”
Mary sensed that neither the King nor Diane were really giving her their attention, and she realized suddenly how impotent she was. They had petted her because it had been easy to pet her, and she had acquired an opinion of herself which was too exalted. She was but a child here as she had been in Scotland; she was at the mercy of the grown-up world, and the love which these charming people had given her was only a minute part of their lives.
She was thinking of these things as she advanced to greet the Queen and Madame de Paroy.
“We wish you to smile for Madame de Paroy,” said Catherine.
But Mary would not or could not smile. Her lips froze; she could only glower at the ugly figure of the new governess. Catherine took Mary’s ear and pinched it hard. She smiled as she did so.
“The Queen of Scotland has much to learn, Madame de Paroy,” said the Queen.
Mary wanted to scream because of the pain in her ear. She felt all alone. The King and Diane were riding away from her. They were leaving her to the mercy of these women.
“I have found it necessary,” went on Catherine, “to chastise my own sons, knowing that one day they may be Kings of France. Kings… Queens … all have to learn their lessons, and when pride grows to abnormal proportions it can best be subdued with a stick. There is nothing like a stick applied to the body to drive away a false sense of superiority. Do you agree with me, Madame de Paroy?”
“I do indeed, Your Majesty.”
“Now,” said Catherine, “a smile of welcome for your new governess.”
Mary opened her lips showing her pretty teeth. She had to free her ear or cry out with the pain.
“Hmmm” said Catherine, “not a very bright smile. But it will suffice for the present.”
Mary was repeating under her breath: “Vulgar… beast… tradesman’s daughter … no true Queen … I hate you.”
She would say it aloud when she was alone with her Marys.
She was looking at the Queen and the new governess through a haze of tears. Catherine was well satisfied. The Queen of Scotland had just begun to learn what it meant to pit her puny strength against that of the Queen of France.
THREE
IN THE VAST ROOM AT SAINT-GERMAIN THE CHILDREN OF the royal household were assembled as was their custom at this hour.
In a window seat sat Mary—one of the eldest and certainly the most beautiful. She was holding court as she loved to do. Monsieur du Bellay was reading one of his poems, and those who gathered about her—among them Ronsard and Maison-Fleur, those great Court poets—knew that it had been written for her.
“Contentez vous, mes yeux,
Vous ne verrez jamais une chose pareille.”
Ronsard and du Bellay had been the leaders of that coterie which called itself the Pleiade after a group of seven ancient Greek poets, and had been chosen by Marguerite, the King’s sister, to be literary tutors of the royal children and those young people who shared the nursery. Their favorite pupil was Mary, not only on account of her beauty which inspired them to lyrical verse, but because of her response to their own work and of that literary talent which she herself possessed.
All eyes were on her now. Francois the Dauphin openly admired her, and he was anxious that all should remember she was to be his bride. His brother Charles, though only seven years old, was already one of Mary’s admirers. There was also Henri de Montmorency, the second son of Anne, the great Constable, and he could not take his eyes from her face.
Mary was content at such times. She needed such adulation. The last six years of her life had not been easy; Madame de Paroy was still with her and had turned out to be all that Mary feared. Mean-spirited, she lost no time in reporting the least misdemeanor, and she and the Queen never allowed the smallest error to go unpunished. Mary had been made to understand that she was as subject to discipline as any of the other children. She had been chastised as they had; but she had suffered far more from the loss of her dignity than from any physical pain.
In vain had she tried to rid herself of the woman. She had implored her mother to appoint a new governess; her uncle, the Cardinal, realizing the woman to be a spy of the Queen of France, had added his pleas to Mary’s, but in this matter Catherine stood firm, and neither the King nor Diane cared to interfere in a situation which had come about through the indiscretion of the King.
