—
In June, the King led an army into Italy, where he was to aid the state of Venice against an invading Spanish army. After he and his entourage had left, the Louvre became a peaceful place. Madame Louise was acting as regent, since Claude was pregnant, and she largely left the little Queen to her own devices, preferring the stimulating company of her daughter, Marguerite. Free to rest and indulge herself, Claude relaxed her vigilance and, since most temptations had been removed, allowed her maids more freedom. To Anne’s relief, they were at last permitted to wander the splendid apartments and galleries, to gaze at the wondrous paintings that were on display there, and to roam the delightful gardens.
They were still expected to be regular at their devotions, and to eschew the romances that Claude believed would lead to their downfall, in favor of the pious works she prescribed, but Anne soon learned the trick of concealing one volume within another, and was able to read books that were quite scandalous by Claude’s standards, which she had purloined from the royal library.
Give her some due, the Queen did appreciate that her maids needed to perfect the accomplishments that would enable them to shine at court when in attendance on her, and attract good marriages. She had them practice their deportment, and stressed the importance of being able to make conversation. Anne was quick to build on her natural inclinations and the training from which she had benefited at the Regent’s court. She tripped up and down with books balanced on her head, worked on perfecting her curtsey and on new dance steps, and learned how to glide gracefully along as if she had no feet.
It was disconcertingly clear to her that the expensive gowns her father had provided, which were in the English style, looked out of place in Paris, where square necklines were wider and edged in the front with embroidered and bejeweled biliments, and hoods were shaped like halos rather than the gabled style her mother wore. She had heard clucks of disapproval from older ladies, who held that it was indecent for married women to show their hair, the sight of which must be reserved for their husbands, but even the virtuous Claude loved the French hood, so its critics were silenced.
Anne had acquired two velvet beguine hoods in Burgundy, and now she applied her skills to converting them into French ones, which suited her so well. Her gowns she painstakingly adapted, over many hours, into the French mode, slashing the undersleeves so that she could pull puffs of her lawn chemise through them, and arranging the hanging oversleeves on top, making sure that she had made frills at the wrists long enough to cover that hated sixth fingernail. Always she added her own innovative details: interlacing ribbons and paste gems on her bodice, or repeating the biliment at the skirt hem, or wearing a bandeau of silver chain across her forehead, beneath her hood. The effects were striking. Her slender figure was maturing into the lines of womanhood, and so perfectly proportioned that the gowns looked wonderful. Others thought so too, for within a short while her small innovations were being copied, and after a time she realized that women, many even of high rank, were watching her to see what new fashions she was wearing. It was a heady feeling, setting trends in a court that led the world in style, and almost every day she devised some novel detail.
In the summer, as Paris grew hotter and more foul-smelling, Claude began to pine for her beloved chateau of Amboise, but she was nearing her time and dared not risk any form of travel. This was her first child, and she was praying daily that it would be a son, an heir to France, since the Salic Law did not permit the succession of a female to the French throne.
Anne saw the married women in her entourage shake their heads behind the Queen’s back, murmuring that being so delicate and crippled did not augur well for a happy confinement. But the birth—which Anne, by virtue of her maiden status, was not permitted to attend—was by all accounts uneventful. It was disappointing that Claude had borne a daughter, but God doubtless had His reasons for that.
The baby was a tiny thing, with the King’s Valois features instantly recognizable. She was baptized Louise, as a compliment to his mother and Claude’s father, King Louis. The maids of honor were entranced by her, and seized every opportunity to pick her up or rock her in her cradle. Anne remained aloof. Babies held little attraction for her, although she supposed it would be different when she had some of her own. But who knew when that would be? She still had no desire to marry—and as for what marriage entailed, she could not bear to think of it. Every time she did, the image of King Fran?ois forcing himself on Mary came to mind.
A letter had come from Mary, belatedly, as she had expected, knowing her sister. Anne thanked God that Mary was not pregnant. Father had not been pleased to see her, but was mollified when he read Queen Mary’s letter, in which she had explained, quite candidly, that his daughter’s virtue had nearly been compromised by the French King, but, by the grace of God, she was unscathed. He had swallowed the blatant lie. He’d even written to Anne, warning her to give the King a wide berth. But now poor Mary was condemned to rusticate at Hever until Father bestirred himself to find a husband for her.
—
The leaves were turning golden when the bells of Paris rang out in joyful cacophony. King Fran?ois had won a great victory at Marignano, and made himself King of Milan. In one swift swoop he had achieved what King Louis had fought and negotiated for over many years. The people were wild with joy. Everywhere they were singing the new song, “Victoire au noble roi Fran?ois!” Anne could not get it out of her head. Claude was on her knees in ecstasy, thanking God for His manifold blessings and for keeping her husband safe. Madame Louise ordered public celebrations.
“My son has vanquished those whom only Caesar vanquished!” she declared grandly, bursting with pride. “It was foretold to me that he would gain this victory.”