Royal Road to Fotheringhay - Plaidy Jean (хороший книги онлайн бесплатно .txt) 📗

“It is very soon after…,” murmured Livy.

“She’s inhuman!” cried Mary.

One of her pages announced that the Cardinal was come to see her. The ladies left her.

As he kissed her hand, the Cardinal’s eyes gleamed. “Most beautiful!” he declared. “Everyone who sees you must fall in love with you!”

Mary smiled. Her image looked back at her from the Venetian mirror. There was an unusual flush in her cheeks and her eyes still sparkled from the anger Catherine had aroused. She enjoyed being beautiful; she reveled in the flattery and compliments which came her way. Tonight she would dance more gaily than she ever had before, and so banish from her mind the unpleasantness engendered by the Queen-Mother. Francois had been advised to rest in his bed. It was wrong of her to feel relieved because of this; but nevertheless it was comforting to remember she need not be anxious because he might be getting tired. Tonight she could be young and carefree. She was, after all, only seventeen; and she was born to be gay.

“Those who have always been in love with you,” went on the Cardinal, “find themselves deeper and deeper under your spell. But tell me, is there any news?”

She frowned slightly. “News? What news?”

“The news which all those who love you anxiously wait to hear. Is there any sign of a child?”

Now she was reminded of that which she preferred to forget—Francois, the lover who could not inspire her with any passion, Francois, who apologized and explained that it was but their duty. She saw the pictures in her mind reflected in the Cardinal’s eyes. She saw the faint sneer on his lips, which was for Francois.

“There is no sign of a child,” she said coolly.

“Mary, there must be; there must be soon.”

She looked at the sparkling rings on her delicate fingers and said: “How can you speak to me thus? If God does not wish to bless our union, what can I do about it?”

“You were made to be fruitful,” he said passionately. “Francois, never!”

“Then how could we get a child?”

His eyes had narrowed. He was trying to make her understand thoughts which were too dangerous to be put into words.

“There must be a child,” he repeated fiercely. “If the King dies, what will your position be?”

“The King is not dead, and if he does die, I shall be his sorrowing widow who was always his faithful wife.”

The Cardinal said no more; he turned away and began to pace the room.

“I am a very happy wife,” said Mary softly. “I have a devoted husband whom I love with all my heart.”

“You will hold Court alone tonight?” said the Cardinal, stopping in his walk to look at her. “You will dance. The most handsome men in the Court will compete for the honor of dancing with you. I’ll warrant Henri de Montmorency will be victorious. Such a gallant young man! I fear his marriage is not a very happy one. Yet doubtless he will find many to comfort him, if comfort he needs.”

He looked into his niece’s eyes and watched the slow flush rise from her neck to her brow. She would not look at the pictures which he was holding before her; she would not let him have possession of her mind. She feared him, almost as much as Francois feared him, and she was longing now to break away from him.

“Let us go now,” she said. “I will call my women.”

There was a satisfied smile about his lips as he left her. But she would not think of him. She was determined to enjoy the evening. She went to see Francois before going down to the banqueting hall. He lay on his bed, his eyes adoring her, telling her that she looked more beautiful than ever. He was glad that he could rest quietly in his bed, yet he wished that she could be with him.

She kissed him tenderly and left him.

Down to the great hall she went with her ladies about her.

“The Queen!”

All the great company parted for her and fell to their knees as she passed them.

The Cardinal watched her speculatively. If she were in love, he thought, she would know no restraint; then she would turn from a husband who, if not impotent, was next door to it. Then there would be a child. It would be almost certain with one as passionate as Mary would become. It would not be the first time that a King believed the child of another man to be his.

His eyes met those of the Queen-Mother. She composed her features. Ah, thought the Cardinal, you were a little too late that time, Madame le Serpent. You are desperately afraid that she is already with child. That would spoil your plans, Madame. We know that you are waiting for your son Francois to die, so that your little puppet Charles, his Mothers boy, shall take the throne, and you, Madame, shall enjoy that position behind it which is now mine and my brothers. But he must not die yet. Everything must be done to prevent such a calamity. He must not die until he has fathered Mary’s child.

Mary sat at the head of the banqueting table and her eyes glistened as she surveyed the delicacies set before her. The Queen-Mother, in her place at the great table, for the moment forgot her anxiety as to the condition of her daughter-in-law. She relished her food even more than did the little Queen. Fish delicacies, meat delicacies, all the arts known to the masters of cookery were there to be enjoyed. They both ate as though ravenous, and the company about them did likewise.

But when the meal was over and Mary rose, she was beset by such pains that she was forced to grip the table for support; the lovely face beneath the headdress of pearls was waxy pale. Mary Beaton ran to her side to catch her before she fell fainting to the floor.

There was consternation, although all were aware of the attacks which now and then overcame the Queen.

The Cardinal was alert. He had never seen Mary swoon before, although he knew that the pains she suffered, particularly after a meal, were often acute. Could it be that she was mistaken when she had said there was not to be a child? He saw the color deepen in his brothers face and the eye above the scar begin to water excessively. Could Mary be unaware of her state? Was it the quickening of the child which had made her faint?

In such a moment the brothers could not hide their elation. The Queen-Mother intercepted their triumphant glances. She also was too moved to mask her feelings. This could be as much her tragedy as the Guise brothers’ triumph.

She quickly pushed her way to the fainting girl.

Mary Beaton said: “I will get Her Majesty’s aqua composite at once, Madame. It never fails to revive her.”

The Queen-Mother knelt down by the Queen and looked searchingly into her face. Mary, slowly opening her eyes, gave a little cry of horror at finding the face of Catherine de Medicis so close to her own.

“All is well, all is well,” said Catherine. “Your Majesty fainted. Have you the aqua? It is the best thing.”

The Queen-Mother herself held the cup to the Queens lips.

“I am better now,” declared Mary. “The pain was so sharp. I … I am afraid it was too much for me.”

They helped her to her feet and she groped for the arm of Mary Beaton.

“I will retire to my apartments,” she said. “I beg of you all, continue with your dancing and games. I shall feel happier if you do.”

The Cardinal stepped forward, but Mary said firmly: “No, my dear Cardinal. I command you to remain. You too, Madame. Come, Beaton, give me your arm. My Marys will conduct me to my chamber and help me to bed.”

They who had crowded all about her drew back and dropped to their knees as, with her four faithful women, she went from the banqueting chamber.

She lay on the oaken bedstead, the scarlet damask curtains drawn about it. The pain had subsided but it had left her exhausted. She would sleep until morning and then rise refreshed from her bed.

She was awakened by a movement at her bedside. She knew that it was not late for she could hear the music from the ballroom. She opened her eyes and, turning, saw the Queen-Mother standing by her bed.