In French

Chapter Thirteen

    The next day I managed five strawberries and two slices of bread layered with cheese. When Philip came to see me he looked weary and aged. He didn’t touch me or offer any support, in fact when I looked into his eyes they seemed oddly closed off. “I wish to send for my sister, Josepha.” I said to him.

    He nodded once, “as you wish.”

    I was silently infuriated that he would not question why or ask me how I was. I just sat in my window seat looking up at Philip. “How-How are you?”

    “I am fine.” He answered smoothly like a well rehearsed lie. I found it insulting that he thought that he had to lie to me and keep up the appearance of being a strong man. I needed him to show me that he hurt like I did to tell me that I was at least feeling human emotions. “And you?” He added a few moments later.

    I stared up at him wondering if perhaps I should lie too. “My soul is wounded.” I admitted to him.

    He came over and kissed my cheek, “I know.” He said and then he left me again. I closed my eyes as tears spilled onto my cheeks.

 ******

    When Josepha arrived a few weeks had passed and I still wasn’t out of the worst of it yet. I had almost forgotten the slightly behind fashion that we wore back in Andorra and knew that she would be the pinnacle for gossip at the moment. She came into my chamber and saw me in my shift and dressing gown and ratty unkempt hair and she sighed and ran up to me throwing her arms around me. I burst into tears. Josepha stroked the back of my head as she swayed us from side to side and hummed under her breath, “oh my dear little sister.” She mumbled into my ear. “How things have turned sour.”

    Over the next few days she convinced me to resume wearing clothes and five days later I looked like an extremely thinner version of my former self but back in my lavish gowns with my hair twisted onto my head. Another few days passed and I was wearing makeup and although I still ate breakfast in my chamber I went outside and sat in the long flower speckled grass absorbing the sun rays and feeling air like life being breathed onto my skin. I went to mass and so long as I had Josepha beside me picking up the pieces and molding me back into shape then I was alright.

    “My dear, you have the grandest palaces of all time.” She commented as we lay back in the grass and gazed at the wispy clouds slowly wafting by.

    “Yet it is lonely.” I told her. “Well, not when Agate or you are here.”

    Later that day I introduced Josepha to Agate and they instantly got along, finding a mutual ground that they wanted me to recover. That night I even went and had dinner with the royal family and close friends including Agate and her husband and of course my dearest sister Josepha. “My,” the Queen commented across the table. “You are awfully thin, child.”

    I didn’t know what to say, my mouth twitched and I looked around the room in search of an answer. “She is recovering well.” Josepha smiled.

    The King nodded, “yes, I am pleased that we can put this setback behind us all and move forward into the future.” I knew what he was implying straight away and it filled me with dread. They wanted an heir to the throne.

    “Yes,” a drunken Madame DuBois spoke with one arm sloped around the King’s shoulders. I had told Josepha all about her. “You mustn’t let these things get in the way of producing an heir,” she had to go ahead and get it straight out there didn’t she? “You must rekindle that spark you and the Dauphin share before it goes out because either way, love involved or not an heir must be produced.”

    Everyone stopped talking and gaped aghast at Madame DuBois apart from me. I stared down at my plate of pork and beautifully chopped vegetables.

    “What?” She shook her head exasperatedly. “Is it against the law to speak the truth?”

    “No, no,” the King cooed and I glanced up to see him stroke her cheek adoringly.

    “Have no fear, Madame,” the Dauphin spoke dully, “our marriage is still strong.”

    The King nodded and said something in agreement and I felt so many people stare at me before the Queen took pity and changed the subject to something other than me or my marriage.

    After dinner when Josepha and I retired to her quarters with exceedingly full stomachs we both flopped into opposing lavender and mint coloured armchairs. I flicked out my fuchsia fan and wafted it docilely in front of my face. “I see what you mean about Madame DuBois.” She said after a moment of quiet contemplation. I widened my eyes and she laughed softly. “She is truly awful, rather like Senorita Dulcinia, whom, may I add, appears to be gathering more and more power over us and the Kingdom!”

    I gasped, lowering my fan, “no!”

    She nodded, “it is true. Apparently you could not have escaped at a more fortunate time! And from what I have been hearing the people of Andorra are not taking too kindly to padre having an ever powerful consort. It goes against our nature.”

    “It stands against our tradition.” I agreed with a curt nod returning to waft my fan about. “On this occasion I agree with the people, it is terribly wrong for this to be carrying on.”

    “Although I see that the King of France is quite evidently besotted by Madame DuBois I cannot say he is taking the situation as lightly as padre. He is not parading her about like a prized trophy or the biggest stag after a hunt.” She said to me quietly. “I have to admit, although I would never be one to question either King that I believe this is wrong.”

    I flicked my wrist, closing my fan and then just as abruptly opening it. “You understand my views at last.”

    “I always understood you, Anna, I just didn’t approve of that mouth on a stick you own!” She patted her armchair and shook her head, laughing. I took her in, her slender figure, rosy cheeks, soft powdered hair piled plainly on top of her head. It was strange to think that less people cared or spent as much time on her hair as they did mine. I always considered us equals or her superior to me as she was the older sibling yet she was in my palace with me clearly the superior one. It was at times like this that my mind became baffled by the logistics of everything.