else?”
“Tantrums, furies, not allowing her to go to Versailles when all the court is there, when he himself is there. He tried to prevent this visit.”
“A husband’s prerogative.”
“He told her a soothsayer had read his fortune and prophesied that he was to have two wives. He wondered, as if he were musing on a horse race, when she might die. Her little daughter now tells anyone who asks that her mother loves her not. How would a child of those young years say such a thing, unless someone fed it to her with her broth at night?”
“The governess?”
“Who else? And there’s someone new in the household who arrived a few weeks before we left. I’m told by one I trust that he comes from Italy, from the chevalier.” There it is, thought Alice, that’s when the mood in the household changed, became frightening, with the arrival of this man.
“Is he handsome?”
“Of course.”
“A pretty boy sent to solace Monsieur.”
“Or torment Madame.”
“Torment is a strong word, Mistress Verney.”
Alice hugged herself inside her cloak, lifted her chin, met his eyes. She was not going to take the word back. Why didn’t he offer a chair? She was trembling with fatigue.
“Go and wait by the door, girl.”
Her father and Buckingham kept their voices low so that she couldn’t hear them. She felt as foolish, as bothersome, as one of the princess’s little spaniels, while Buckingham and her father seemed great, powerful, hunting mastiffs. One bite, and the neck of anything they wished to kill was broken. Her father left Buckingham, took her hands.
“Poppy will see you back.”
He opened the door for her, and there was Poppy again, in the hallway, his face never showing that this wasn’t the first time he’d been up with her this night.
“This way, miss, you’re about to drop. Take my arm,” Poppy said to her.
I sounded the fool, she thought. Had she sounded hysterical? Was she hysterical? Husbands were the law over their wives. Not all husbands were kind. Did she imagine too much? Make things worse than they already were for the princess?
“Here you are, miss.”
Exhausted, ready to faint, Alice opened the door of the bedchamber. Dawn was just swimming upward over the horizon so that light began to break the darkness outside the high windows cut into the stone like an afterthought. She dropped her cloak, kicked off her shoes, dropped into the bed beside Renée.
So that was the great and noble George Villars, Duke of Buckingham, he whose father had been best friend to the king’s father, he who was reared in the nursery of the royals, he whose brother had died a boy on the battlefields for the king’s cause, old to her eyes, blurry eyed from his night of drinking, wearing ridiculous blue velvet slippers with silver fringe on their upper edge, the requisite red heels at their back, his mistress, a notorious countess, sleeping in his bed. He had killed her husband in a duel three years ago. Rumor said she’d held the horses and laughed when her husband fell. Rogues of court, wild animals like d’Effiat and his friends. Even being a princess did not protect, just as being a queen did not protect Queen Catherine. Marry well and wisely. It was the vow she and Caro and Ra had taken. A man who would not beat you. A man whose position would sustain you, even though he wandered. Caro had done it, even if it was over Alice’s own bones, and she was going to do it, by heaven, climb so high that she’d be at no one’s mercy, ever, and break Cole’s heart in the bargain.
She crashed head over heels into sleep.
C HAPTER 5
T he next day, news of the black mass and exile to the ships was the talk of court: Who was the woman, had she been ravished, what was a black mass? But those involved shook their heads, gave no gossip to feed the curiosity. Richard was summoned to Princesse Henriette’s chamber in the afternoon. He smiled down at Renée, who’d been sent to keep him company in the hall
“Tantrums, furies, not allowing her to go to Versailles when all the court is there, when he himself is there. He tried to prevent this visit.”
“A husband’s prerogative.”
“He told her a soothsayer had read his fortune and prophesied that he was to have two wives. He wondered, as if he were musing on a horse race, when she might die. Her little daughter now tells anyone who asks that her mother loves her not. How would a child of those young years say such a thing, unless someone fed it to her with her broth at night?”
“The governess?”
“Who else? And there’s someone new in the household who arrived a few weeks before we left. I’m told by one I trust that he comes from Italy, from the chevalier.” There it is, thought Alice, that’s when the mood in the household changed, became frightening, with the arrival of this man.
“Is he handsome?”
“Of course.”
“A pretty boy sent to solace Monsieur.”
“Or torment Madame.”
“Torment is a strong word, Mistress Verney.”
Alice hugged herself inside her cloak, lifted her chin, met his eyes. She was not going to take the word back. Why didn’t he offer a chair? She was trembling with fatigue.
“Go and wait by the door, girl.”
Her father and Buckingham kept their voices low so that she couldn’t hear them. She felt as foolish, as bothersome, as one of the princess’s little spaniels, while Buckingham and her father seemed great, powerful, hunting mastiffs. One bite, and the neck of anything they wished to kill was broken. Her father left Buckingham, took her hands.
“Poppy will see you back.”
He opened the door for her, and there was Poppy again, in the hallway, his face never showing that this wasn’t the first time he’d been up with her this night.
“This way, miss, you’re about to drop. Take my arm,” Poppy said to her.
I sounded the fool, she thought. Had she sounded hysterical? Was she hysterical? Husbands were the law over their wives. Not all husbands were kind. Did she imagine too much? Make things worse than they already were for the princess?
“Here you are, miss.”
Exhausted, ready to faint, Alice opened the door of the bedchamber. Dawn was just swimming upward over the horizon so that light began to break the darkness outside the high windows cut into the stone like an afterthought. She dropped her cloak, kicked off her shoes, dropped into the bed beside Renée.
So that was the great and noble George Villars, Duke of Buckingham, he whose father had been best friend to the king’s father, he who was reared in the nursery of the royals, he whose brother had died a boy on the battlefields for the king’s cause, old to her eyes, blurry eyed from his night of drinking, wearing ridiculous blue velvet slippers with silver fringe on their upper edge, the requisite red heels at their back, his mistress, a notorious countess, sleeping in his bed. He had killed her husband in a duel three years ago. Rumor said she’d held the horses and laughed when her husband fell. Rogues of court, wild animals like d’Effiat and his friends. Even being a princess did not protect, just as being a queen did not protect Queen Catherine. Marry well and wisely. It was the vow she and Caro and Ra had taken. A man who would not beat you. A man whose position would sustain you, even though he wandered. Caro had done it, even if it was over Alice’s own bones, and she was going to do it, by heaven, climb so high that she’d be at no one’s mercy, ever, and break Cole’s heart in the bargain.
She crashed head over heels into sleep.
C HAPTER 5
T he next day, news of the black mass and exile to the ships was the talk of court: Who was the woman, had she been ravished, what was a black mass? But those involved shook their heads, gave no gossip to feed the curiosity. Richard was summoned to Princesse Henriette’s chamber in the afternoon. He smiled down at Renée, who’d been sent to keep him company in the hall
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