“I hear that the King of France is tall.”
“Very tall, but lean, Henry.”
“I like not lean men.”
“And ’tis not to be wondered at. I have been longing to see my brother.”
He was softening visibly.
“You have behaved in a manner which I find truly shocking.”
“Dearest Henry, how can you, who have never had to leave your home, your country, your beloved brother, understand the desire to return to all that you love!”
“So you preferred the King of England to the King of France?”
“There can be no comparison.”
“I have heard he is a clever fellow, this Francois.”
“Not clever enough to see through my little joke. Oh, Henry, I must tell you how I duped them all. As soon as possible let us be alone, you, Charles and I … and perhaps Katharine. I could tell this only then, and you will laugh so much. You will tell me I am
“Now you are in England we shall expect you to speak in English.”
“A little wicked then, Henry.”
His mouth was already beginning to turn up at the corners. How good it was to have her home! How lovely she was—even more so than when she went away—with her French clothes and her way of wearing them. She made poor Katharine look a little dull. It was to be expected, he supposed. This was a Tudor girl, his own sister. They were so alike. It was small wonder that she glowed and sparkled as none other could.
She was looking at him slyly. “Henry, confess something.”
“You forget to whom you speak.”
“Forget I am speaking to my dearest brother, when I have thought of doing little else for so many months!”
“Well, what is it?”
“You are as glad to have me with you as I am to be here.”
“I am displeased …,” began Henry; but his eyes were shining. “Well,” he said, “I’ll not deny it. It pleases me to see you back here at Court.”
She was smiling.
Charles dearest, she was thinking, it is easy, as I knew it would be.
Henry had laughed uproariously at the farce of keeping the royal family of France guessing. The tears were on his cheeks. He had not laughed so much since Mary had gone to France.
“How I should have liked to see you prancing about with your skirts padded. I’ll warrant that long-nosed Frenchman was beside himself with anxiety.”
Henry slapped his thigh and rolled on his chair. Katharine looked on a little primly; she did not entirely approve of such ribald clowning. Poor Kate! thought Mary fleetingly. She does not amuse him as she should.
“I would I had been there,” declared Henry.
“Oh that you had!” sighed his sister. “But now we are home and all is well.”
“Is all well?” Henry scowled at Charles. “You should not think, Brandon … nor you, Mary, that you can flout my wishes and not suffer for it.”
Mary went behind her brother’s chair and wound her arms about his neck.
“Suffer for it?” she said. “You would not hurt your little sister, Henry?”
“Now, sister,” said Henry. “Do not think to cajole me.”
“You promised me that if I married Louis I myself should choose my next husband.”
“And would have kept that promise had you trusted me. I meant you to have him, but you should have asked my consent. And to marry as quickly as you did was unseemly.”
“’Twas not Charles’s fault. ’Twas mine. I insisted, Henry.”
“Then Charles is a bigger fool than I thought him, if he allows himself to be forced into marriage.”
“There are ways of forcing, Henry. We loved so much. But he did not want to offend you. The fault was mine. I was so much afraid of losing him. Katharine is shocked, because I tell the truth, but it is something I am not ashamed of.”
Henry scowled at his wife. “You should not be shocked because a woman loves her husband, Kate,” he said.
“Not that a woman should love her husband, Henry, but that before they were married … it is not usual for a woman to insist on marriage.”
Henry laughed suddenly. He pointed at Mary. “That girl’s a Tudor. She knows what she wants, and she makes certain she gets it.”
