The Queen and the Courtesan (2 page)

But on this occasion, perhaps weary of lonely days of mourning, and recent trying visits from various ambassadors, Henry responded with a smile. The entire court applauded, so relieved were the noble lords to see their king begin to recover his usual good spirits.

It was this wish to cheer him that his courtiers suggested a hunting trip to Blois. When he agreed, Auvergne quickly dispatched a secret message to his mother, urging her to invite the King to call at the estate of Bois-Malesherbes, the residence of the Entragues family, to rest from the fatigue of the chase. The message was received as the party rode back towards Fontainebleau and Paris.

‘Now you can judge for yourself, Sire,' Auvergne told him, ‘whether I do not speak true.'

Surrounded by a hundred hectares of parkland, the stately chateau with its tithe barn, chapel and huge
pigeonnier
, overlooked the beautiful valley of the River Essonne, situated in the department of the Loiret. Henry was impressed. Balzac had clearly done well for himself. The fellow had a beautiful wife in Marie Touchet, who had presented him with a son and two daughters, plus he also had a son and daughter from a previous marriage. A fortunate man indeed.

Henry could not help but experience a burst of envy, thinking of his own ill fortune.

Why was he, of all men, denied happiness? Even now his advisers were making plans to marry him off to some dull royal princess, constantly reminding him that Queen Margot would only agree to a divorce if her replacement was considered worthy. He'd battled against this unreasonable stricture, deliberately keeping his wife short of funds in order to force her to bend to his will. But the years were slipping by, he was no longer young, and, if he was to produce the legitimate heir France needed, Henry knew he could hold out no longer.

Not now that he had lost Gabrielle.

He'd had word that Margot had already sent a personal requisition to Rome, in which she'd declared that their marriage had been in opposition to her own free will, and entirely at the instigation of her brother, King Charles IX, and Queen Catherine, her mother. She claimed that she had not even spoken during the ceremony, her agreement invoked when her brother the King had forcibly inclined her head. The letter had concluded, ‘And with the King my husband and myself being related in the third degree, I beseech His Holiness to declare the nullity of the said marriage.'

Henry was relieved the battle between them was finally over, that perhaps they might even be friends again, in time. But it would not be long before Rosny would be naming a new royal bride. His heart sank to his boots at the thought.

The bedroom he was given at Malesherbes was most commodious and magnificently appointed, decorated with a series of tapestries depicting biblical scenes. Oh, but it felt so empty, the bed lonely without his angel beside him. At least it was not one they had ever shared. Henry was so determined to avoid the memories of their blissful nights together that he slept in his own bed as little as possible, constantly visiting the homes of friends and courtiers, and refusing to retire until he was dropping with fatigue.

But it was almost the end of May, the trees were fragrant with blossom, the sun warm on his skin, and he was happy to see Marie Touchet again. He remembered her as a sweet girl who, along with Elizabeth of Austria, had done much to calm the madness of Charles IX when he was out for Henry's blood.

Now Marie presented the two daughters of her marriage with François de Balzac, and the moment he set eyes on the elder, he remembered that dance. He recalled the way she had moved with a sensuous grace, scandalously flirting with him even as his would-be Queen had looked on. She was the most bewitching girl he had ever seen. For the first time in weeks he felt that familiar spark of interest that brought him instantly alive again. He was utterly captivated by her youthful exuberance, so like that which had once attracted him to his lovely Gabrielle. That, of course, had been before several pregnancies had plumped her figure. This girl made him feel young again, charming him with her wit and clever conversation, by the way she laughed and teased him as if he were simply an attractive man, and not a king. She did not appear in the least overawed at being in the presence of her monarch, which Henry found exciting.

‘Why do you surround yourself with these buffoons?' she chided him, indicating Bellegarde, Montglat, Frontenac and others, including her own brother. ‘Do you not realize it is their own vanity they wish to flatter by being in Your Majesty's presence.'

He smiled into her green eyes. ‘You wish them to flatter me?'

‘You are their king, more worthy of accolades than they. Do not allow them to rule you, or dictate their own wishes as if they were your own.'

Henry sketched a teasing bow. ‘I thank you for those kind words of wisdom. But it was their suggestion that I call here at Malesherbes. Was that a mistake, think you?'

Henriette allowed herself to appear slightly flustered as she cast him a sidelong glance from beneath her long dark lashes. She was certainly well versed in the art of flattery, and knew how to fascinate a man, even a king.

‘How do you know the invitation came from them? I doubt these so-called nobles are capable of such a very
noble
thought. Do they possess any sensitivity or consideration for others? I very much doubt it. Perhaps the idea for this visit was born of quite a different source, inspired by your good self at some point in the not-too-distant past.' She arched one finely plucked brow and he laughed out loud.

‘I think you are cleverer than I gave you credit for, mademoiselle.'

The small pert mouth curved upwards into a bewitching smile. ‘I dare say that is something you might discover for yourself, given time.'

‘And will you allow me the necessary time to make such fascinating discoveries?'

Henriette sank into a deep curtsey, head bowed for a moment before raising it to look directly into his eyes. ‘I would never presume to deny a king, unless he were to ask me to relinquish my good character.'

It was a challenge Henry could not resist. He stayed at the château several days longer than intended, enchanted by the young beauty. He found her to be both vivacious and intelligent, entranced by the secret smile that played about her lips whenever she looked in his direction. Henry was never allowed to be alone with her, as her protective mother assured him she was still a virgin and had no wish for her daughter's virtue to be compromised. Yet unlike his sweet Gabrielle, she did not act like one. There was a promise of passion in those catlike eyes that were as deep and unfathomable as the ocean. Henriette made it very plain that she would not succumb easily, but it came to him with a delicious shock that he wanted her, very badly.

Gabrielle had been dead for just five weeks.

Henriette was jubilant. ‘Did I not tell you,
Maman
, that I could charm the King? He could not take his eyes from me.'

Balzac, well pleased with the royal attention to his beautiful daughter, was already weighing up possible advantages for his own future. ‘You must not surrender to the royal suit unless it includes the crown matrimonial.'

‘Indeed, I will not,' Henriette agreed with a knowing smile.

Marie sighed, wishing to caution both husband and daughter yet knowing they would not listen. She had wanted a respectable life for her girls, but how could she, as a one-time royal mistress herself, deny Henriette such an opportunity? ‘Remember that the King is in mourning. Had Gabrielle d'Estrées lived, she would have been our queen by now.'

‘But she is dead, and
I
am very much alive. I am young, and if not quite such a beauty, I am as well born and possess a spark-ling wit, or so the King thinks.' Henriette laughed. ‘I certainly know how to play him.'

‘Flattering the vanity of a king is not difficult but can easily lead to disappointment, particularly with this one. Henry has a fickle nature when it comes to women, so do not set your heart on having him. You will have many rivals for his affection. I loved Charles. He loved his beloved Elizabeth, but also adored me. I was fortunate in that I was his one and only mistress. You could never be sure of such constancy from Henry of Navarre.'

‘Tch, you can be happy without becoming encumbered by love. Power is far more important.'

‘If that is what you seek then you play a dangerous game, child.'

‘Any game with a prize worth capturing involves danger,' retorted her husband.

‘That is true, but does she not also deserve a good husband? Would love without marriage be enough for you, my sweet?'

‘There you go again,
Maman
, judging me by your own standards. You were not ambitious, were content to be a mistress, but that was
your
choice. It would not be mine.' The green eyes glittered with a new determination. ‘Why could I not have both the King's love
and
marriage? What think you, Papa?'

Balzac smirked with pleasure that this clever daughter's thoughts so matched his own. ‘I see no reason at all, dearest child, why you should not succeed where the unfortunate Gabrielle d'Estrées failed. If you can but win the King's heart, you could indeed win a crown.'

The château of Malesherbes was convenient enough to Paris for Balzac to take a full part in court life, but as this new plan took shape he removed his family to their house in the city so that his daughter would be better placed to pursue her dream. Henriette preened and prettied herself while she waited in breathless anticipation for the King to come. She was not disappointed. The moment Henry heard, he abandoned the hunt and hastened to Paris after her.

To Henriette's complete delight the King was even more attentive, making a point of visiting her daily. One day he brought her a gift, a rope of pearls, which she cleverly refused to accept, not wishing to appear too grasping, or compromise her reputation.

‘My lord, do you think you can buy my favours with such riches?' she chided him, allowing soft tears to form in her beautiful eyes. ‘You know how I value your friendship, but you are a king, and I but a humble maiden. Would you dishonour me?'

To her surprise and disappointment Henry did not press her, but put the valuable necklace back in its casket and returned to the Louvre.

‘You have played it too cool. You've lost him,' Marie-Charlotte whispered as he strode away.

Henriette slapped her sister across the face. ‘Never dare to say such things to me. I
will
have him! He will come again, do not doubt it.'

The next day she was proved entirely right as Henry again presented her with a mysterious box. Fully expecting to find the magnificent pearls still inside, Henriette discovered instead that he had brought her a dish of a hundred apricots. She gazed upon them, stunned and dismayed.

‘You know that I seek only to honour you. Where is the harm in a dish of fruit?'

Quickly recovering her composure she laughed out loud. ‘You are an incorrigible prince.'

No one had ever called him such a thing before, and, enchanted by her audacity, Henry fell still further beneath her spell.

Casting her sister a triumphant, warning glare, so that Marie-Charlotte quickly scurried from the room, Henriette sank to the floor in a charming puff of skirts, putting her hands to her warm cheeks. ‘My head is spinning, my emotions in turmoil. You have touched my heart, Your Majesty, I do not deny it, but how can our destinies ever be joined? I constantly bewail the twist of fate that has placed you upon a throne, and thus beyond the reach of my affection.'

‘How can I be beyond your reach when I am your prisoner?' Henry murmured, gently raising her and leading her by the hand to a quiet arbour in the garden where, unobserved, he might succeed in stealing a kiss. ‘I am your captive. How can I resist your charms?'

‘Or I yours,' she told him, her soft white hands stroking his. ‘I am ready to make any sacrifice rather than resign my claim upon your love, save only that which cannot be returned to me intact.'

She referred, of course, to her maidenhead, in fact long since surrendered, although Henriette had no intention of allowing the King to know that.

He grasped her hand and kissed it. ‘Some sacrifices are worth making, for the benefits they gain. Say the word and you could enjoy the place and state that my beloved duchess enjoyed. You will be my
maîtresse-en-titre
.'

Henriette rewarded his passionate plea with a furious frown. ‘Sire, I am not Gabrielle. I am not your insipid little angel wishing always to please you and do as you say.' Only that morning her sister had brought to her attention some verses called the
Complaint of the Shade of the Duchesse de Beaufort to the King
. She had ripped the paper to shreds. Henriette had no intention of being bound by the ghost of a former mistress less clever than herself. ‘I am my own person. I will not be bullied or controlled, even by a king. If I come to you, it will be of my own free will, not because you demand it.'

Excitement pounded in him, the blood roared in his head, the ache in his loins was almost unbearable. So much so that he made no attempt to chide her over the criticism of his former favourite. This one would be very different. Henry could sense the latent passion in her. He could smell it, taste it. It burned like a fever in her eyes, in her teasing little touches on his person. She would be like a tiger in his bed, not the sweet willing participant he'd grown used to in Gabrielle. Henry recognized this aura of sensuality in her and welcomed it. He needed a woman in his bed who knew how to give him pleasure, particularly if the rest of the time that same bed would be occupied by a fat Italian princess. Rosny was constantly impressing upon him the benefits of marrying Marie de Medici, not least for the sake of the treasury. The net was closing in, no doubt about it. He met the girl's furious glare, all jesting gone. ‘I would have you come to me for no other reason, but come you must.'