Tampered Beauty

Indulgence

"Love, we have to talk." Francis said, strolling into Mary's study. Steven had told him the Empress' had finished her meetings with nobility and a quick privy council meeting, upon his insistence a few hours previously. It was before the evening meal, an intermission in the day where Mary took tea and snacks with James, a quick break from ruling. The sun had set earlier than expected, the clouds dark and the air sweet, just before a storm was to hit.

Mary sat on the head of the table, one not long but not short. Her light blue-grey ball gown sparkled slightly in the candlelight, her diadem glowing. The pregnant beauty slowly turned to him, taking a break from pouring tea from the silver tea pot.

"My love." Mary smiled softly.

James sat half way down the table, his chair on higher legs than the other two. He wore a new jacket, a little red velvet ensemble with gold embroidery, hair pulled up in a red satin ribbon. His face was slightly hidden from an impressive bouquet laying in the middle of the table, as well as a seven tiered stand covered in small cakes and biscuits, tarts and pastries. Small tea plates lay in front of them, as well as thick goblets.

"Papa!" James beamed, throwing himself to one side to catch eyes with his father. Francis grinned at him.

"Hey, you." he smiled, walking over to his mother. Francis placed a kiss to Mary's hair, a hand going to her growing stomach, visible and large underneath the soft fabric.

"What did you want to talk of?" Mary asked, ever the diplomat.

"My mother." he answered. Mary's eyebrows furrowed.

"What of her? What has she done now?" Mary asked.

"I do believe that this is a conversation for another time." Francis nodded to the boy. He walked over and picked him up from the tall chair. "Come on, mon petite prince. Go to Tante and your cousins." he said, walking with James on his hip. James wined, always having enjoyed the time he had with his mother, not liking to be away from her whenever it was not necessary.

His pleas fell on def ears as he was passed over to Simon. Francis closed the door and turned to his wife. Mary frowned a little.

"You're scaring me." she admitted. "What on earth could be so wrong that James would have to leave?" Mary asked. He took one of her small hands -a little swollen from pregnancy, not that he would have noticed- and lead her to one of the chaises near the fire. Francis didn't speak, just sat down next to her, taking that hand in his own once more.

"I've heard news from my cousin, Piero." Francis began. Mary frowned. His maternal Medici cousin was a dangerously ambitious man, much like Duke Claude de Guise, her own maternal uncle. What on earth could he be doing corresponding with Francis about Catherine? The only time the Medici family corresponded with the house of Valois-Angoulême was when they wanted something, something Mary knew first hand in her brief regency.

"About?" Mary pushed. What was this?

"My mother." Francis sighed. "He says he received word from a Monestry outside northern Milan. My mother took a lover there, and said lover was found dead after a rather ambitious rendezvous. And, stricken with guilt and grief, she was found dead at a noose."

Mary laughed aloud. "Catherine de Medici, guilt stricken? Does she think we're stupid?" Mary asked.

He chuckled. "I suppose she does. She has a rather high view of her own viewpoint, a rather low of ours. But, that is not what we should focus on."

"No, it isn't." Mary agreed, swallowing down laughter at the audacity of the Medici woman attempting espionage. "That is not the woman we know, it cannot be."