Read Online Reluctant Queen: Tudor Historical Novel About Mary Rose Tudor, the Defiant Little Sister of King Henry VIII by Geraldine Evans - Free Book Online Page B

damp country, Claude,’ Francis instructed, mock-sternly. ‘I will consider it my duty to help you achieve the necessary amnesia, Mary, if thoughts of England make you sad. France is your home now,’ he reminded her, ‘and we your family.’ He drew her to him and kissed both her cheeks, then insisted his young wife do the same. ‘Now it is my turn to look sad,’ he said, ‘for I must leave you to rest. Till this evening, my Mother. Claude.’ Francis swept low and backed out of the room.
    Mary, not sure whether to be pleased or sorry at his departure, smiled at her daughter-in-law in and said, ‘Come along, Claude, ladies. Let us relax for a while. I shall want plenty of energy for the ball tonight.’
    Once in the bedchamber, Claude, Mary and their ladies quickly undressed one another and spread themselves around the room to rest. The streets were still noisy from the shouts of the excited populace, however, and sleep was impossible. They chatted desultorily, Mary taking the time to learn more of her new family. The young Madame Claude was rather shy and Mary worked at drawing her out. Claude still looked far from well and Mary asked her, ‘What ails you, Madame?’
    ‘I get pains in my stomach and legs that make me feel sick, Your Grace,’ Claude explained. ‘The physicians are reluctant to put a name to this illness.’
    Lady Guildford snorted at this. ‘They usually are,’ she commented dryly. ‘When I was last ill, they clucked around me like a bunch of old hens. They bled me here and bled me there, till they thought me sufficiently weakened to put up with more of their torture. But I rallied despite them and cleared them all out and cured myself with herbal concoctions. I’ve not been ill since,’ she added with satisfaction.
    ‘Tis a pity we do not all have your constitution, Mother,’ said Mary, with a wry smile at Claude. ‘Perhaps you could make up a potion to help Madame Claude.’
    Lady Guildford glanced at this young lady’s overweight body and pale face and said forthrightly, ‘What Madame Claude needs is fresh air, exercise and some good, plain food. Rich cooking is not good for young people.’ Having given her opinion, Lady Guildford leaned complacently back against her pillows.
    ‘Take no notice, Claude, ‘Mary whispered to the embarrassed-looking Claude. ‘My Mother Guildford is not nearly as fierce as she sounds.’
    Claude smiled uncertainly at this and ventured a comment. ‘My father must be very happy in his choice of bride, Your Grace. You’re very beautiful.’
    Mary was touched. She felt honour-bound to find a compliment in return. ‘You’re very kind. The King, your father, was most gracious when we met on the road and gave me a hearty greeting.’ Mary’s lips curled at the memory, but she forced herself on. ‘You give me courage for all the ceremonies that lie ahead. I fear they will be an ordeal, especially as my French is not as practised as I could wish.’
    ‘You shouldn’t worry, Your Grace,’ Claude told her. ‘You can’t fail to please the court and the people. I’m sure you already please my father. You will find him a kind and generous husband, I’m sure. He and my mother were very happy together.’ Claude’s voice trembled, though whether this was caused by the loss of her mother or her anxieties about her own marriage, Mary couldn’t tell.
    She assumed the former and tried to comfort her. ‘I, too, lost my mother young. I wasn’t quite seven, but I can still just remember her gentleness. We can be as sisters,’ Mary told her. ‘There are only a few years between us, after all.’ Mary’s curiosity got the better of her and she tried to draw Claude out further. ‘Have you been married long, Claude? You are still very young.’
    ‘Oh, no, Madame. Francis and I were married in May, though we were betrothed at my father’s wish, long ago, when I was seven and he twelve.’
    ‘Don’t you think it strange, Claude—here we are, both new