The Reluctant Queen (17 page)

There was nothing Henry liked better than a blue-eyed blond. ‘I must see this paragon. Does she live far?’

‘The
Château
Coeuvres is situated quite close to Compiègne where we are currently stationed, I will take you to meet her one day, Sire.’

‘Why not now?’

Bellegarde hesitated, suddenly seeing the folly of mentioning a beautiful woman to this king. ‘It would perhaps be more considerate to warn the family first.’

‘Nonsense,’ Henry countered. ‘Who would not welcome a visit from the King? Come, lead the way, I am eager to view this beauty,’ and as he put his horse to the canter, Bellegarde could do nothing but obey.

Gabrielle d’Estrées cried out with pleasure when she heard the clatter of hooves in the courtyard and saw that it was her lover. She sprang up from the window seat where she and her sister Diane had been engaged in needlework, delighted to have a reason to abandon it as she loathed sewing.

‘Oh, it is Bellegarde. He sent no message that he was coming today, and he has brought company with him. Quick, Diane, go and offer the gentlemen refreshments while I change. I wish to look my best. He is constantly begging me to marry him, and this may well be the day that I accept.’ She giggled. ‘Or it may not, who knows?’

Diane smiled, giving her sister a quick hug. ‘Don’t tease him too much, precious. You would hate to lose him. Wear the blue, it matches your eyes. I’ll take the gentlemen out into the garden, then later I’ll keep his companion occupied while you and Bellegarde slip away for a private little tête a tête.’

Left alone, Gabrielle yanked on the bell pull to summon her maid, deeply regretting the lack of notice. She would like to have bathed and scented herself properly. As it was, she must simply do the best she could in the time available.

‘Fetch the blue gown,’ she cried, the moment the hapless girl appeared. ‘Quick, we must hurry.’ Papa might accuse her of being light-minded, but she was much sharper than people gave her credit for. Diane was right. She couldn’t keep Bellegarde, or Longueville of whom she was also fond, dallying indefinitely. It was vitally important that she capture a rich, elegant and handsome husband. But it was such fun choosing she was really in no hurry.

Ten minutes later, with her golden hair brushed till it shone and left to hang loose, falling in rippling waves to her waist, Gabrielle walked gracefully down the stairs and out into the garden where her father and sisters were already in conversation with their guests. Her mother was not at home, so Diane was acting as hostess.

Inside her cool exterior Gabrielle was excited and happy that her lover had come to see her unannounced, seeming to indicate that he could hardly bear to be apart from her. As she approached the little party she caught her sister Juliette’s eye, realized she was trying to tell her something but couldn’t think what it might be. Gabrielle dropped a flirtatious curtsey to Bellegarde, casting a sideways glance up at him through her lashes. ‘What a delightful surprise, my lord. I bid you welcome.’

‘You must first welcome the King. We were out riding and His Majesty was in need of refreshment.’

Gabrielle started. They had all been aware that the King was in the vicinity engaged in sporadic fighting, but never for a moment had Gabrielle expected him to call upon them. ‘I beg pardon, Your Majesty. Pray forgive my rudeness.’

She sank into a deep curtsey, kissed the hand that was held out to her, realizing as she did so what Juliette had been trying to impart to her by that warning glance. So this was the new king? Gabrielle was not particularly impressed. He seemed old, his late thirties she believed, and did not possess one iota of Bellegarde’s elegance and style. His linen was soiled, and, as he stepped forward to raise her from the deep curtsey, she had great difficulty in not screwing up her nose against the stink of horse sweat that emanated from his person. Clearly the King did not believe in bathing or scenting himself, as did her handsome lover. Her pretty shoulders shuddered at the lot of any woman obliged to sleep with this king.

Two maids hurried forward at that moment with trays of refreshment: wine and wafers, coffee and cakes. Gabrielle welcomed the interruption, which gave her a moment to collect herself and distance herself from the King. ‘Which would you prefer, Sire, coffee or wine?’ she asked, giving him one of her enchanting smiles.

Henry was entranced, struck speechless like a gawky schoolboy. Bellegarde had been absolutely correct. Never had he seen such a vision of loveliness. Her luxuriant fair hair, those dazzling blue eyes, and a complexion of lilies and roses. Her nose was divine, her lips moist and full, and when they parted slightly to smile at him, revealed perfect white teeth. He was surely in heaven and this was an angel.

‘Either, or both, I care not so long as I may sit by you. I think you must have already sipped nectar from the gods. You are a fortunate man, Monsieur le Marquis, to have such beautiful daughters,’ the King told his host.

‘I am indeed, Your Majesty,’ her father quickly answered, pride swelling out his chest to have Gabrielle complimented by the King.

Gabrielle entertained their guests by chatting merrily throughout the afternoon, aided and abetted by both Juliette and Diane, although it was plain to the worried Bellegarde that it was Gabrielle who fascinated Henry most. His monarch had clearly fallen deeply under her spell.

‘May I call again, Monsieur, to talk with your pretty daughters?’ Henry asked as he took his leave.

‘You are ever welcome at my home any time, Your Majesty,’ that ambitious man assured his monarch.

Gabrielle cast a languishing glance across to her lover, attempting to silently assure him of her devotion, and her sorrow that they’d had no opportunity to be alone.

Bellegarde was burning with hot jealousy. He felt as if he were leaving behind his beloved damsel in distress in her fairy tale
château
with its crenellated turrets and drawbridge. But he calmly mounted his horse and rode away, somewhat mollified by this demonstration of her affection. Gabrielle had as good as promised to be his. He must remember they were all but betrothed.

Henry said little on the way back, seeming to be engrossed in his own thoughts. Bellegarde knew that the King was concerned with finding a suitable queen, the need to produce heirs becoming ever more pressing. Although Henry might admire her beauty, he was hardly likely to be interested in his darling Gabrielle for such a role, was he?

Gabrielle had seen the misery in her lover’s eyes, and gloried in it. Moments before she’d thought how very vexing it was that Bellegarde should have brought the King here today, but mayhap a little jealousy would only strengthen his great love for her. She had every intention of accepting his suit, or possibly Longueville, who was also dying for love of her. Gabrielle couldn’t quite make up her mind which of her suitors she loved best. She was almost certain that she loved Bellegarde above all others, but the Duc de Longueville had fallen in love with her more than a year ago and he was so very handsome. Fortunately, each was unaware of her duplicity, but then Gabrielle had learned long since to be discreet.

She was the fifth child of eight, six of them girls and all beautiful, in a family with a reputation for scandal and licentiousness. It was well known that several of her forebears laid claim to being royal mistresses. One to Francis I, another to the Emperor Charles V and Pope Clement VII. It was no surprise then that her own mother possessed an insatiable appetite for sex and frequently took lovers, much to her long-suffering husband’s chagrin. Gabrielle’s father, the Marquis, seemed to have little control over the antics of his wife.

As well as enjoying a somewhat audacious life style herself, Madame d'Estrées seemed equally determined to take full of advantage of her daughters’ beauty.

Gabrielle’s elder sister Diane had been bathed in milk and ‘sold’ to the Duc d’Epernon, a favourite of Henry Trois, for a considerable sum. She had gone off happily enough to live a life of luxury at court, claiming that when Epernon tired of her, he would be sure to help secure her a rich husband.

Gabrielle had likewise lost her virginity at an early age, thanks to the machinations of their ambitious mother. She well remembered the day when the bargain was struck. She’d been thirteen.

She stood with her ear pressed to the salon door, anxious to hear the conversation taking place within between her mother and a gentleman by the name of Monsieur de Montigny. She was nervously wondering if he were handsome, and what he would think of her when she was paraded before him as her sister Diane had been before Epernon.

‘I couldn’t possibly let her go,’ she heard her mother say, playing the concerned maternal role to perfection. ‘She is but a child, an innocent virgin.’

‘My master prefers them young,’ came the reply.

Madame tittered. ‘I dare say he does. Do not all men if they can get them? But the younger the girl, the higher the price. My own sweet one is the beauty of the family. I doubt you could afford her.’

‘My master is rich beyond measure. What price did you have in mind?’

There was a long silence in which Gabrielle, listening avidly behind the door, almost despaired of an answer coming. Eventually, her mother responded in the kind of tone she might use when discussing the sale of a gown she was bored with. ‘I couldn’t take less than six thousand crowns. A loving mother requires suitable compensation for the loss of such a precious daughter.’

A mocking laugh followed this remark. ‘Is that what you claim to be, a loving mother? Pardon me for seeing you rather in the light of procuress. Mayhap you should show your gratitude for the honour done to your daughter by my master the King, and be willing to pay for the privilege.’

Gabrielle felt her heart start to thud loudly in her breast. This messenger then was from the King of France! No lover could be higher placed than Henri Trois. She had heard strange reports of this effeminate King who scented himself with violet powder, treated his wife like a doll, and taxed the people of Paris to pay for his extravagances. His mother, Catherine de Medici, was in constant battle with his
mignons
to control him. It was said that he had once apparently been hopelessly in love with the Princess Condé but had never bedded her. Gabrielle did not think she would have anything to fear from such a king, odd though he may be.

‘You wish
me
to pay
you
? Very droll,’ her mother was saying, seemingly unruffled by the threats. ‘I know the value of my daughter and will not let her go cheaply. Why have you come? Who told you of her beauty?’

‘His Majesty learned of the girl from his favourite, Epernon, who is the lover of her elder sister, I believe?’

‘And is well pleased.’

‘If you would allow me to see the girl, I’m sure we could come to terms.’

‘But of course, you won’t fail to be enchanted.’

Gabrielle fled as she heard footsteps approach the door. She managed to reach the stairs before her mother summoned her, and, spinning on her heel, put on an innocent smile as she pretended to have just walked down them.

 
‘Ah, dearest, there you are, how propitious,’ As if her mother hadn’t guessed that Gabrielle had been eavesdropping. ‘Come with me, child, there is someone I would like you to meet.’

Gabrielle would never forget being looked over as if she were a piece of meat on a butcher’s hook, turned about, and asked to raise the hem of her skirt to show off her ankles. It had been most humiliating. And then, after an achingly long silence, the visitor had smiled. ‘The girl certainly shows promise.’

‘Promise? She is the most beautiful of all my daughters, in all of France, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘His Majesty has decreed that I may offer three thousand crowns for her.’

‘I have already said that I couldn’t take less than six.’

The bargaining was so unseemly, so deeply embarrassing that Gabrielle slipped from the room. Yet she couldn’t help but be excited. What would it feel like to be the darling of a king, to be bedded by Henri Trois? Would he shower her with jewels and new gowns? Gabrielle began to daydream of the sort of trinkets she would most enjoy. Not pearls, they were surely for dowagers. Sapphires, perhaps, to set off her eyes. Diamonds, to draw attention to the perfection of her complexion. And nothing but the finest silk for her gowns.

In the end a price of four thousand was agreed and Gabrielle was duly packed off to court to meet the King.

Henri Trois was not a man given to much cavorting between the bed sheets, not with women at least. He loved to have beauty about him, but he found physical love making and emotion of any kind so very exhausting that he would need two or three days in bed to recover after such an encounter. He far preferred his pretty boys, his monkeys and his little dogs, and brushing the hair of his plain but submissive wife, Queen Louise. Gabrielle found that her duties with the King were not onerous, that he troubled her very little.

Oh, but she adored court life, enjoyed playing with the monkeys and little dogs, dressing in pretty gowns and watching Henri decide which colours and trinkets suited her best. The King could happily spend hours discussing such trifles, playing with her hair, or applying rouge to her pretty cheeks and lips. Unfortunately, as with everything, he soon tired of her once the novelty had worn off. He told Epernon that the chit bored him. ‘She is charming enough, milk-pale skin, luscious lips, but vacuous. A silly, spoiled miss.’