Free Reluctant Queen: Tudor Historical Novel About Mary Rose Tudor, the Defiant Little Sister of King Henry VIII by Geraldine Evans

brides, made kin by my marriage to your father, and yet we were both, in turn, promised to the young Prince of Castile? Indeed, I was to have been finally married to him this year.’
    ‘Yes, Madame. It was my mother’s desire that I should marry Castile’s prince, but as my parents had no son the people were against it. They didn’t wish their princess to be married out of the realm. So when my mother died, my father pushed through the marriage to Francis.’
    Their dishabille and enforced intimacy had loosened the bounds of formality and Mary found herself asking, ‘Are you happy with Francis? Is he a kind husband?’
    Claude’s reply was sadly revealing and uncharacteristically worldly. ‘He is as kind as most husbands, Madame. I’ve become very fond of him, though with his charm he could have married any. I was fortunate he wasn’t a stranger. If God had granted my father sons, I would have been married far from my home.’
    ‘Like me.’ Mary wasn’t aware she had uttered her sad thought aloud, till Claude moved closer, took her hand and smiled sympathetically. ‘Don’t be sad, Your Grace. I know my father is very aged, but I promise you he will love you. Indeed, I’m sure he must be delighted with you and eager for the nuptials.’
    Mary wished she were half as eager as her bridegroom. But she forced the thought down and said with as much cheerfulness as she could muster, ‘I’m sure we can get to love one another as husband and wife should.’ She told Claude about the cumbersome gown etiquette demanded and how sympathetic Louis had been. ‘I was grateful for his kindness. It is a marvellous thing in a husband.’
    Claude nodded as though Mary had revealed a great truth. They fell silent after that. Outside, the noise seemed to have dimmed. Perhaps the citizens had shouted themselves hoarse. Now Lady Guildford’s gentle snores could be heard. The two girls looked at one another and giggled.
    After a while, Claude excused herself. She was the hostess, as she explained, and had to go and oversee the preparations for the ball.
    A little later, Mary and her ladies bestirred themselves in turn. After being served a light meal, they called for water and scented linen and started to prepare themselves for the evening’s festivities. The indefatigable Lady Guildford bustled about in her usual efficient manner, chastising the servants and bossing the Maids of Honour, until all was done to her satisfaction. Mary knew she was determined to ensure her entrance to the ball gave the French nothing to criticise.
    Although her mirror told her she was still a little pale, Mary felt more relaxed than she had for days and bore her ladies’ ministrations with patience. At last, dressed in a magnificent gown of white cloth of gold with matching head-dress, she slipped a simple necklet of beaten gold about her throat and gazed in the glass at Lady Guildford. ‘Will I please the King and his court, think you, Mother?’ she asked, anxious now that the moment of her presentation was at hand.
    ‘The more fool them if you don’t,’ Mother Guildford retorted. ‘Though your jewellery is too plain. We would not wish the French to think us paupers.’ She picked up a magnificent diamond and emerald necklace from the jewel casket and replaced the simple necklet. ‘Your flaxen beauty will outshine all the cloth of gold in the place, child.’ Lady Guildford’s face shone with proprietary pride as she studied Mary. ‘Are you ready, Your Grace?’
    Mary straightened. She held her head high and nodded.
     
     
    The ball was a glittering affair. The nobles of France had turned out in force to see her. And as Francis escorted her up and down the lines of nobles waiting to greet her, she was vain enough to be pleased at their response. Each glance told Mary she looked beautiful. The knowledge put a becoming colour in her cheeks and a new-found confidence in her step.
    The courtiers, elegant in their brocades, silks and cloth of