“He has made up his mind.”
“But we have been together since …”
“Since you were a baby, yes. But you are in no need of a governess now. You are a queen and a wife.”
“I won’t have it, Guildford. I tell you I won’t.”
Mary hurried to the door.
“Where are you going?” Lady Guildford cried in alarm.
Mary turned, her eyes blazing. “I am going to tell the King that I shall choose my own attendants.”
“Dearest, I beg of you, have a care. You will do no good to either of us.”
Mary ignored her and, with blazing eyes and flaming cheeks, ran from the room.
It seemed accidental, but it might not have been, that Marguerite, Duchesse d’Alencon, was in the anteroom through which Mary had to pass on her way to the King’s apartments.
“Madame,” cried Marguerite in alarm, “something is amiss?”
“My attendants are being dismissed,” cried Mary. “Lady Guildford, who has been with me all my life, is being sent back to England.”
“I am so sorry.”
Mary would have passed on, but Marguerite said: “Madame, I should like to help you if you would allow me.”
“Help me?”
“Yes. You are going to the King, are you not?”
“Certainly I am going to the King.”
“I beg of you, do not act rashly. The King appears to be mild but, when he has made up his mind, is very determined.”
“If he has made up his mind on this matter he must unmake it.”
“Madame, forgive me, but you have little experience of our Court. The King has already given orders that your retinue is to be reduced. If you asked him to allow your attendants to remain, he could not grant your wishes because he has already given this order. It would grieve all your friends that your first request to the King should be refused—but refused it would be.”
“I have found the King kind,” retorted Mary; and she went on her way.
The Dauphin and the Duc d’Alencon were with the King when Mary burst in on them. The three men looked surprised, for it seemed that the Queen was ignorant of French etiquette, since she came in thus, unannounced.
Francois was secretly amused and delighted to see her, as he told himself he always would be. She would have to learn the importance of etiquette at the French Court; doubtless in her brother’s, gracious manners were not of such importance as they were here.
Louis came to her and gently took her hand.
“I want Lady Guildford to remain with me,” she said.
“Lady Guildford?” Louis repeated gently.
“She has been my governess since I was a child. And now she is being sent away, and she tells me that others are going back to England with her.”
“Ah, yes,” said Louis quietly. “I live simply here, and you must perforce do the same. You will not need all the attendants and servants whom you have brought with you. So they must go back to their native land.”
“But …”
She looked from Louis to Francois, who had raised his eyebrows and was shaking his head almost imperceptibly.
She wanted to tell them that she cared nothing for their French manners. She was angry; she was desolate and she would let them know it.
“The arrangements have been made,” went on Louis, and although he smiled and spoke with the utmost gentleness she saw the purpose in his eyes.
“I was not consulted,” Mary complained.
“My dear little Queen, we did not wish to disturb you with such matters, and it is my custom to decide who shall remain at my Court.”
“Lady Guildford …”
The King said to Francois, “Have my daughter and your sister brought here. They will look after the Queen and show her that she has new friends to replace those who are going.”
“But I want …”
“You want these ladies to be brought to you? It shall be done.”
Mary suddenly felt gauche, young and helpless. She saw that Marguerite d’Alencon was right. She had been foolish to rush in in this way. She should have waited until she was alone with the King and then tried to persuade him. Now she had spoiled everything.
