Montmorency frowned. Name of God, he thought. Was the Italian woman going to pretend she was surprised by that? The woman was a fool. Look at her meekness! She sat and smiled, and bore no malice towards a woman who was as much her enemy as Spain was to France. What milk-and-water creature was this? Still, even such a one must have a spark of jealousy.
‘I am pleased indeed, Madame,’ he said gruffly. ‘The lady has become overbearing of late.’
Catherine was delighted. It was pleasant to have the Constable of France on her side. But she must go carefully, and remember not to disclose her true feelings, even to those who be her friends.
‘Did it seem so to you?’ she asked.
‘It seems so to many, Madame. May I speak frankly to you?’
‘I beg that you will.’
‘Well then, the King has been much enamoured of this lady, but the King is human. Madame la Duchesse de Valentinois is indisposed and cannot amuse the King. Why should there not be others to do so?’
Why not indeed! she thought. Why not his desirous and most jealous Queen!
She said coolly: ‘That seems sound sense, Constable.’
‘The King is not one to move towards pleasure unless assisted, Madame.’
‘Unless assisted,’ repeated Catherine, with that sudden loud laughter which she usually managed to suppress because it belonged to the hidden Catherine rather than to the one she wished everyone to know.
‘I repeated― unless assisted, Madame. There is a woman who attracts the King, and one I think who, were she given opportunities, might take the place of the absent Duchess.’
‘Oh?’ It was difficult now to hide her feelings; all the jealousy, all the bitterness was rising to the surface of her emotions. She said to herself: This man must not guess. No one must guess.
Montmorency was impatient. Enough of this side-stepping! he thought. If we decide to speak with bluntness, then let us speak with bluntness. ‘I refer to the Scots woman Lady Fleming. The King has a fancy for her.’
‘Lady Fleming! But― she is an old woman―’
‘The King fancies old women. In any case, she is not as old as the Duchess.’
Catherine closed her eyes and looked away from the Constable. He must not see that she was almost in tears. She said uncertainly: ‘The King has noticed her, I grant you. I thought it was because he interests himself in the education of the little Scot. It seems to me that if he has been seen talking to her, that is the reason.’
‘Lady Fleming is an attractive woman, Madame. She is― different from our women because she is a foreigner. The King is human. Everyone at court is enamoured of the little Scots Queen. Why? She is pretty as a picture; she’s full of witchery. But that is not all. She is― different. Half-French; half-Scot. It is the strangeness that attracts. His Gracious Majesty, with a little direction, could become enamoured of the Lady Fleming. It is to your own advantage as well as mine to unite him with a silly woman and separate him from the wily one of Anet.’
Catherine’s eyes were shining now. A brief affair with the silly Scots widow― a break with Diane― and then? Waiting for him would be his true and loyal and most forgiving wife, who was, after all, the mother of his children.
Here was a way to work a miracle which a silly ring could not give her.
She said, almost choking with the loud laughter, ‘We could arrange a masque. The King could partner with the widow. The wine― the music― and the absence of the Duchess―’
Montmorency nodded. ‘The Fleming will do the rest. She only awaits the opportunity. The King may have been thinking of young Mary’s education when he chatted in such friendly fashion with the governess, but the governess was thinking of the King.’
‘I shall consider this, Monsieur de Montmorency,’ said Catherine. ‘And now, I beg of you, lead me back to my apartments.’
The court was amused. The Constable had suggested a masque. What next?
The grim old soldier planning gaiety! What could be behind that.
The Queen was taking upon herself the management of this affair― usurping the place of the absent Duchess of Valentinois. What sort of entertainment would harsh Montmorency and Catherine contrive between them?
Everyone had to admit that the idea was a novel one. The Queen would decide which characters were to be represented and, in secret, she would tell each person which of these characters had been allotted to him or her. Therefore the Queen alone would know, as she mingled with the guests, who it was beneath the masque and the elaborate costume. The Queen was to attend as herself; and she would give a jewel as a prize for what she considered the best costume. Each guest was in honour bound to keep his or her identity secret. It was a masque with a difference; there must be real surprise when masques were removed at midnight.
The Queen summoned the Lady Fleming to her presence.
The woman curtsied, while Catherine’s keen eyes noticed that she was a little uneasy. Could it be that Henry had been a little more than friendly already?
It seemed incredible.
Catherine dismissed her attendants.
She made the woman stand while she talked to her. Catherine’s glittering eyes took in each detail of her appearance. The woman was pretty in a conventional way― red hair, widely parted lips that gave to the face a vacant air. She was plump; she was weak and helpless, appealing, Catherine supposed, in what Henry would see as her womanliness. Catherine could imagine her coquettish, eager, a partner in a romantic intrigue.
Imagine it, or was there now something insolent about the woman? She was older than Catherine. It was incredible and maddening. What had these women that the Queen had not?
‘Your Majesty wished to see me?’
Catherine said: ‘It concerns your costume for the ball. You know my plan.’
‘Yes, Madame.’
‘You are to come as Andromeda. You know the story of Andromeda? She was chained to a rock and given up to a monster. Perseus came to the rescue with the Medusa’s head, the sight of which turned the dragon to stone. He freed Andromeda and married her.’
‘Yes, Madame.’
‘If you are in any doubt as to your costume you may consult me.’
‘I am deeply grateful, Madame.’
‘There is one other matter. For the purpose of the masque, you will need to be at the side of Perseus for the evening. You understand that. I wish to tell you this: who is who at the masque is to be a great secret, but in your case I am going to let you into the secret. You will understand the reason when I explain it to you. The part of Perseus is to be played by a very exalted person indeed; I would not wish you, Lady Fleming, to commit an indiscretion by― shall we say an over-familiarity.’
How the wanton creature’s eyes sparkled! She knew what this meant. She was delighted. She was longing for the King even as the Queen longed.
Catherine could have slapped her silly face.
‘Your Most Gracious Majesty, you may rely upon me.’
Gracious, I am indeed, thought Catherine grimly, to hand my husband over to such a ready wanton! And I know, Madame Fleming, that I may rely upon you to play the part Monsieur the Constable has chosen for you. ‘You may go, Lady Fleming. Do not forget if there is any matter on which you wish to consult me concerning your costume. I shall be ready.’
‘Your Gracious Majesty is very good to me.’
Catherine stared after the woman as she bowed herself out. One could not hate such a simpering fool. She was all eagerness now, preparing herself to seduce the King.
Why should I let her do this? Catherine demanded of herself.
Why should I myself not wear the costume of Andromeda? Why should it not be the Queen who must lure the King from his sick Duchess? Because the Queen could never do it. He knows her too well. No costume, no mask, could disguise the Queen in the King’s eyes. Moreover, as Montmorency knows, as Lady Fleming herself knows, the King is attracted by the fool, and only needs the stimulation of wine, sensuous music, the inevitable romance of a lady in disguise― together with the prolonged absence of his mistress― to be tempted into committing an indiscretion.