In French

Chapter Nine

        For the first month it was undoubtedly strange for both the Dauphin and myself. We were not used to sharing a bed nor each others company. From our brief conversation that night two years prior I knew that he was a fan of dogs and not my Madre and that was about it. Every night he’d give me a kiss on the forehead and wish me sweet dreams and then we’d stay on separate sides of the beds and sleep. It was bizarre enough living in a secretly unconsummated marriage but I found it even peculiar how I was constantly being followed around by an entourage. In fact, it was rather annoying.

    Twelve days into our sort of marriage I was sat out in the garden with just the Dauphin drinking tea imported from Portugal that I decided to talk to him. Thankfully there was no one around. Well, no one in earshot. “I was wondering,” I blew on the tea cooling it down. “When we are going to consummate our marriage…” I left it open ended deliberately.

    When it took Philip a while to reply I stared at him. “When I first saw you, you were barely thirteen.” He said instead. “Do you know how old I was?”

    “Seventeen.” I replied with a frown. “Pray tell me what this has to do with anything?”

    He shrugged, “nothing, I just pondered your view on it.” He took a sip of tea. “Do you think that you are ready?”

    I put my cup back on the saucer and placed my hands in my lap nervously. “Truth be told sir, I am anxious. It worries me that we are not fully wedded.”

    He chuckled to himself, “have you no faith in me wife? Do you expect me to demand an annulment?” Now that he had voiced my concerns it felt ludicrous but we still weren’t fully together. There was no denying it. “I was not just drunkenly pretending my feelings; I meant every word I said to you on our wedding night.” His voice had gone quiet and serious.

    I smiled timidly, “good, I am glad to hear it.” We went back to sipping at our teas. “Do you hunt?”

    He laughed, “poorly.”

    “Play an instrument?” I carried on.

    “I have been known on occasion to run my fingers along a harpsichord but I personally like the lute. I find the music I make and others make from that much more appeasing to the ear. And you?”

    I snorted, nearly spilling my tea everywhere. “I am not coordinated enough to play an instrument. I am much better at criticizing others.”

    Philip laughed, I liked his laugh for it made me laugh too. “I hope to change that.”

 ******

    Madame DuBois reminded me far too much of Senorita Dulcinia and therefore I disliked her a lot. In my nearly two month stay here in France I had not talked to the King’s mistress once. She wasn’t particularly liked throughout court and through the gossipers I had gathered that she drank too much and shouted too often. She was an angry soul that liked to refine herself to the King’s chambers at all hours of the day. I personally did not approve especially when she started acting inappropriate at meal times. Many a time they would abruptly leave leaving us sat there stunned.

    Senor Vargas had been encouraging me a lot to talk to her as because of status she was not permitted to speak to me first. I declined explaining that I would not bring myself to speak to a harlot.

    It was breakfast and Madame DuBois was dipping strawberries in cream and feeding them slowly to the King whilst draped all over him. She stopped, wiped her hands on a napkin and took several massive glugs of deep red wine while I tried to not draw attention to myself. I could feel her eyes on me, begging me to look up so that I wouldn’t have a choice but to address her. I turned sideways instead and still feeling her stare on my face I picked up a conversation with Philip. He sat three seats away from me; tradition claimed that at such a meal he was not permitted to sit beside me. He glanced from Madame DuBois to me and hid his expression well as he reciprocated in the conversation.