An Endless Supply Of Rubies

The Definition of Love II

Fanfic: An Endless Supply of Rubies Ch 11, Tudors | FanFiction

A/N: I only speak English, Spanish, and a little Dutch, German, and Irish. Therefore, google translate will be used for most of the foreign language. I apologize for all of the grammatical errors. The English translation, if not spoken, will follow in italics.

Amelia stood beside Charles, nervous on the inside, but collected on the outside. He had finally told her that they were supposed to entertain the Admiral of France. Amelia's eyes had widened, and she cursed under her breath in at least four languages. "Du troede ikke, at nævne dette før?" she had shouted at him before she realized she was not speaking English. "You did not think to mention this sooner?" she had amended.

Charles had been stunned, but quickly muttered an apology before giving his wife a kiss. She had only spoken in her native tongue when she was surprised or angry.

It was only about a week between the King informing them of his decision and the arrival of the Admiral, and Westhrope had been buzzing with activity. All the linens were replaced, the mattresses stuffed and turned, every nook and cranny cleaned, and the extravagant menu planned. Amelia stood at the helm of the whole operation, directing all of the servants. Charles had begged her to let the housekeeper take charge, but Amelia was determined to make everything perfect.

Constance became Amelia's second-in-command. She had never thought that she would leave the palace and the service of the King, but she was glad that she did. Amelia was incredibly kind and fair, especially given that Constance was no more than the bastard daughter of a minor noble. At least Amelia had been the illegitimate daughter of a king.

Now Charles and Amelia stood side-by-side. Constance stood behind Amelia and slightly to the right. She wore a dress that Amelia had helped her make, and felt like the luckiest girl in the whole world. It was the latest fashion as well, something that she never thought she would own.

As the Admiral and his party walked toward the family, the herald announced "His Excellency, Phillipe Chabot de Brion, Admiral of France."

Both parties bowed and issued their greeting.

"It is my privilege and pleasure to welcome you and your party to my home and to England," Charles said. "May I present my wife, the Duchess."

"Madame," Phillipe greeted warmly, turning his attention to Amelia. "Je suis ravi de vous rencontrer." I am delighted to meet you.

"Vous aussi, Votre Excellence," Amelia responded, impressing the Admiral with her near-flawless pronunciation. You as well, Your Excellency.

Phillipe smiled. "And, with your permission, may I present my secretary, Monsieur Alfonse Gontier, and my niece, Mademoiselle Germaine." Both of the parties mentioned greeted Charles and Amelia.

"Mademoiselle, vous êtes très jolie," Amelia complemented sincerely. Mademoiselle, you are very pretty. She simply adored the French fashions, especially the hat that Germaine wore. Her admiration for the French woman diminished as she observed the seductive expression that crossed her face while she greeted Charles. Amelia was delighted to see her husband not reciprocate.

"So, tell me, Your Grace, what are we to expect?" Phillipe asked.

"I am to entertain you and your staff here for a few days, then the King invites you to dine at court," Charles responded.

"Very good," the Admiral replied.

"There is one other thing," Charles continued. "I am told that Queen Anne has planned a banquet in your honor, and a tennis match." The Admiral made no response, as if the name held no meaning to him. "I believe you met Her Majesty once before in Calais when she accompanied his majesty before her coronation.

Phillipe appeared to think for a few seconds before he responded, saying "I may have, but I have no recollection of any such meeting, and, alas, I don't play tennis." He smiled.

Charles and Amelia both smiled. "Shall we?" Charles asked. The couple led the ambassador deeper into their home.

While Charles and the Admiral went out to ride, Amelia sat by one of the windows, stitching a new maternity dress. She and Charles had only been reunited for a few weeks, but she was confident that she would be with child soon, since the pair had spent a fair amount of time in their bedchamber together.

It was a beautiful summer morning in the country, and Amelia was enjoying the fresh air when someone cleared their throat. She turned away from the window quickly, startled by the sudden intrusion. "Vous me fait peur, Monsieur Alfonse. Comment allez-vous aujourd'hui?" she said. You startled me, Monsieur Alfonse. How are you today?

The secretary smiled and bowed. "Good afternoon, Madame. I was simply wandering through your lovely estate. May I join you?"

Amelia smiled cordially and gestured to the seat across from her. "How are you finding England so far, Mr. Secretary?" she asked.

"The country is très beau, Madame. I enjoy the fresh air. It is a welcome change from the smell of Paris," he responded. "Might I ask why you speak French so well?"

"I am the daughter of a King, at one point in my life poised to marry the heir to the throne of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. French is the language of diplomats, is it not?" she responded.

"Daughter of a king? King Henry of England?" Alfonse implored. He had not been informed that the King had three daughters.

Amelia nodded. "Daughter of Henry of England and Catherine, the Dowager Princess of Wales."

Alfonse allowed this to sink in. "Do you have children, Madame?" he asked. He was sure that King Francis would be delighted to hear that one of the Princesses of England had a child.

"I do, in fact, Mr. Secretary. His Grace and I have a little boy named John. He's a little over a year old." And with that, Amelia gushed about her son, telling the Monsieur stories with a proud gleam in her eye.

"Are you expecting?" Alfonse asked Amelia after she was done with her stories. He gestured to the partially-finished dress in her hands when she gave him a look of confusion.

"I do not know yet, Monsieur. The Duke and I were only recently reunited after an incident at court at the beginning of the year, but we are hopeful," she responded with a smile.

Alfonse simply nodded in understanding. He just hoped that the Admiral's idiotic niece didn't ruin things between the Duke and the Duchess. They seemed like a very lovely couple.

"Votre Excellence, je pense qu'il pourrait y avoir une autre solution à la proposition de notre roi," Alfonse said to Phillipe as soon as he had returned from his ride. Your Excellency, I think there might be another solution to the proposition of our king.

"Comment?" Phillipe replied. How?

"Saviez-vous que le roi Henry el la reine Catherine ont eu une seconde fille?" Alfonse asked. Did you know that King Henry and Queen Catherine had a second daughter?

Phillipe thought about this for a moment. He remembered that someone had mentioned it years ago when the two kings met at Calais. Mary had been contracted to marry the Dauphin, and Henry had bragged about his second daughter marrying someone else. "Je pensais qu'elle avait èspousè quelau'un d'autre," he stated, trying to remember who. I thought she had married someone else.

"Son fiancé est mort, et elle est maintnant marièe au duc de Suffolk!" Alfonse exclaimed. "Et elle a un fils!" Her betrothed died, and now she is married to the Duke of Suffolk! And she has a son!

Phillipe thought for a moment. This was great news. He believed Francis would be very pleased. There were now more alternatives to offer the King when it came to the marriage. He immediately started to dictate a letter to Francis.