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Charles leaned close to Anne and murmured, “Wife, it is time for the dancing to begin. Since you are the bride, today I invite you to signal our intention to rise.”
Anne was so accustomed to being the one who decided and signalled her intention to act that it took her a moment to understand the implication, that Charles now had the right to decide because he held a higher rank than she, that because he was her husband, she must obey him. In her confusion, she would have risen, but her husband held her back and half-whispered, “Signal my Grand Maître d'hôtel.” Flushing, she obeyed.
The musicians blew a fanfare and the Grand Maître d'hôtel called, “All rise for the King and Queen of France, the Duke and Duchess of Brittany.”
Anne fisted her hands. The most hateful clause in her marriage contract had been the one that gave her new husband the power to rule Brittany in her name. The sudden use of Charles’s new ducal title sent a stab of pain through Anne’s heart. Her father was the last man she had heard addressed as Duke of Brittany. The memory unleashed a wash of grief at his unexpected loss four years previously. Anne blamed Madame la Grande for the deliberate choice of this moment to use the title to underscore her defeat.
As Anne and Charles descended from the raised dais, she turned her back to the room to hide her rush of tears, adding this insult to the tally of injuries done to her by the second lady in France. Beneath her pleasant smile she seethed as she walked arm in arm with her new husband accepting the congratulations of the wedding guests while they waited for the room to be cleared for dancing.
When they approached Duke Louis, he bowed. “M. le Roi,” he said to the king, “will you release Madame la Reine to me so I may have the pleasure of introducing my new sister to my cousin, Count Charles?”
“Do you wish to make me jealous, Brother Louis? You have already accompanied her for two weeks!” King Charles laughed heartily, gave his cousin’s arm a friendly squeeze to make it clear he was jesting, turned away, and was swallowed by the courtiers who surrounded them.
It sounded odd to hear herself addressed by her new title, as if it should belong to someone else, Anne thought, placing her arm along the top of Duke Louis’s, keeping a wide distance between them. Her husband’s comment might have been a quip, but there were several here who would not forget that Louis had once tried to annul his marriage to marry her. As he led her towards a window embrasure, she resisted for a moment, but gave way, for she longed for time to recover her equanimity. Louis pushed the heavy curtains aside, and they were half-hidden. She gazed out to the inky courtyard. Pinpricks of light reflecting from the torches glittered here and there in the barren gravelled square, hinting that treacherous ice lay beneath the surface.
“That announcement must have come as an unwelcome surprise,” Duke Louis said. “I know it did to me.”
“It stated the simple facts.” Anne struggled and kept her voice steady. She was not willing to trust him with her pain. His had been the principal hand that had negotiated the agreement that had brought her to this place.
Instead, she said, “I had expected to meet Duchess Jeanne tonight. Did not the king and Madame la Grande want their sister here for the wedding?”
“The king invited her, but I sent her a messenger suggesting that to travel from Orléans during winter when the weather was uncertain would be dangerous for her health and she would please me best by remaining at home.” The smile he gave her was impish.
Anne raised her eyebrows. “You did not fear irritating them so soon after Charles released you from Madame la Grande’s prison?” The new queen kept her voice low, trusting the melody played by the musicians in the gallery to mask their conversation.
He gave a small smile. “Not after I had been so helpful in negotiating the treaty that brought him your exquisite self as his bride.”
She crumpled a handful of her cloth of gold wedding gown and said, “Yes, when I sold myself for thirty pieces of silver.”
“Madame la Reine, you judge yourself by a hard measure. You signed to bring peace to your duchy and to allow it to prosper again.”
She wondered whether he was trying to convince himself or her. It was too late to repine, so she said, “It was better than to permit more war and destruction. But it still was losing.”
“Madame la Reine, I say you made the right choice for Brittany. Its people can expect a lasting peace, a prosperous future and a queen of France who will protect their rights. For the rest, the future can alter its face as swiftly as the flip of a coin, as any man who has led a battle can attest. Only the Lord knows our fate.”
She looked up at him and said, “Only if the Lord allows my duchy to recover its independence will I believe I did not fail my ancestors and my people.” She turned away. “Let us meet this cousin of yours.”
Anne guessed who he was before they were introduced, recognizing him from his long, hooked nose and fleshy lips, marks of the Valois family. He looked much older than the tall, slender girl with wide grey eyes who stood beside him.
“My cousin, Count Charles d’Angoulême, and his wife, Countess Louise.” He kissed Louise’s hand and clapped his cousin on the back. “How do you go on, Cousin Carlo?”
Anne gave her hand to the count. “I understand you were well known to my father. If you are cousin to Brother Louis, we must share family ties?” They began the obligatory tracing of their ancestry, searching for common threads. As they spoke, Anne became aware of a certain antagonism emanating from the unblinking eyes and unsmiling lips of the count’s wife.
Turning to the countess, whom she guessed was little older than herself, she said, “Which part of the country are you from, Countess Louise?”
“My father, Count Philippe de Bresse, is uncle to Madame la Grande, so when my mother died when I was seven, he made me her ward. I grew up at Amboise with King Charles.” Louise thrust her chin forward and added, “and Queen Marguerite. She is my cousin, for her mother and mine were sisters.” Although the countess spoke as if simply conveying family information, she did not hide the barb in her voice when she mentioned the divorced queen.
During the three years Anne had ruled Brittany, many had sought to discountenance her. She had learned to display an unruffled demeanour. Often, a direct response was the most unexpected. “You must dislike this marriage then, for it injures your cousin. I regret it. It was not my desire to displace her.”
The countess reddened and dropped her eyes. “I did not mean to imply you did, Madame la Reine. As women, we must marry where our duty lies.” Realizing that this response slighted her husband, who stood beside her, her colour deepened.
Anne nodded, satisfied that the countess would be more careful with her words in future. She and Duke Louis walked on.
“She is another who holds a grudge against our sister-in-law,” Duke Louis kept his voice so low only Anne could hear him. “Louise is not only beautiful, but very able. When her mother died, her feckless father sent her to Madame la Grande’s opulent court almost penniless and without a dower. It wounded her pride. Then the regent married Louise to my cousin, who may be Second Prince of the Blood but is as poor as the fifth son of a country squire.”
“You are exaggerating, Brother.”
“Yes, but not by much.”
The introductory music for the dancing struck up, and the lines began to form. As Louis walked Anne back toward her husband, with whom she would open the wedding ball, she continued to puzzle over the countess’s enmity.
“Why should that make her want to offend me? I am the new queen. I could improve her position if I chose.” Anne shook her head. It seemed foolish to her to affront the person in the best position to assist one.
“If I had to guess, I would say it is envy, Madame la Reine. You have everything she wants. Position, wealth, and power.” Louis sounded as dispassionate as a general assessing the disposition of enemy lines.
Anne gave a bitter laugh. “I have lost the position I want; my duchy is drowning in debt; and Charles wields the power that should be mine. She resents someone who does not exist.”