“M’lady, Lord Condé requested your presence in his chamber.” The page looked at me waiting, but I was in no mood to see anyone. The last chance I had at freedom and regaining my position had fallen through, and all I wanted was to sit in my chambers, alone and sulk. All I could think of was that smug look that the Lord had given me before turning his eye to another, as if I were nothing.  I turned to the waiting page,

“Tell him I am busy this evening, if you will be so kind.” Then a small smile crossed the page’s face, as if he were realizing something, only he was looking at my empty hearth when he did this, rather than at me. He had to tear his gaze away from the cold ashy pit before speaking to me.

“He thought you would say so, and suggested that I entice you by mentioning he has a fire already going in his hearth. I had presumed he meant heart but now I see my error.” I was sure, by the look that crossed the Paige’s face that news of my empty hearth would quickly become castle gossip as soon as he was dismissed, but that was not my biggest concern at the moment. I moved slightly to pull my wrap closer to my shoulders, a gesture I was hoping the page didn’t see. I said in an even voice,

“Very well, inform Lord Condé that I will be visiting him, in order only to save the servants from the trivial task of filling my own hearth.” I watched as he turned on his heel, a smug smile crossing his face and made his way out of my chamber. It was one of the barest chambers in the castle, small, with nothing more than the basic necessities. I had no riches that required hiding places or precious stones that needed safekeeping, nor dresses that needed hanging.

I sighed, combing my rambunctious hair into submission behind my head, and smoothing down my worn dress, before jutting out my chin and entering the hall; I was still a Lady after all.

As I made my way toward Condé’s chambers, over the sweep of my tattering skirts, I could hear as a ball transpired downstairs, the lively music and chatter floating through the halls for the less fortunate to hear. I could almost picture the sweep of elegant dresses twirling around queen Mary and King Francis down below. The thought alone was enough to nearly bring tears to my tired eyes. I began to think of my own misfortune and misery, which had me here, off to meet a foreign prince, rather than dancing at the ball myself like every other young woman my age.

I had been married to a Lord when I was just fifteen, but I was lucky. The Lord I was married to was only a few years older than myself, and did his best to make me comfortable. We had riches and land enough to live out happy lives. He had lands in the country, so we were never cold in the winter, like it always seemed to be here in this castle, as well as lands in the north, to keep us out of the heat of summer. We traveled with servants and met with other royals and went to balls at this very castle. But we had also done normal things for young people; we raced around the estates, chased after one another in the woods, went sailing in the summers. Life was bliss.

But of course, nothing perfect can remain in this harsh life. Of course we were at the castle when King Francis was crowned, but that was the last time either of us was truly free. Just after that, the protestant movement grew, rebellions happening everywhere. My husband, Charles, helped one of his friends from boyhood hide from prosecution in our summer estate, allowing him to live there to avoid an unjust death. But this friend stole our money to pay for an execution on the king and of course the money lead back to us. When the crown found news of this, they stripped my husband of all his lands and possessions, and William fled for his life. I did not blame him for his actions, but I was left alone, and a woman without any assets is as good as dead.

Currently I was residing at the royal court on behalf of the only family that would see me, my aunt, one of Queen Catherine’s ladies. I, of course, had never had the pleasure of meeting the infamous queen, because now I was nothing more than a peasant living off crumbs of the wealthy.

Sending the page away, surely to gossip about my ‘romantic’ encounters and lack of a hearth, I entered Condé’s room with a soft knock on the door.

“You called, your Majesty.” I stated, still standing in the doorway. I saw his shoulder’s shake with a chuckle, but he did not turn his eyes from the fire. Behind me, I heard the light footsteps of the Page begin to disappear down the dimly lit hall, becoming faint, and then nonexistent.

“I see absolutely no reason for you to keep calling me that.” I couldn’t help but chuckle also, it was so wonderful to find someone at court who didn’t care about titles or land or who was married to whom.

“Why, are you not really a prince?” I asked, feigning innocence. This did get him to turn around, and he did so with a knowing smirk.

“And if I am not mistaken you are a Lady.” This only caused my smile to grow, and I crossed the room as he rose from his place by the fire.

“Then I suppose this is quite a scandal, a married Lady and a foreign Prince alone in his chambers, just think of what the servants are saying.” I stated in mock horror, trying to hide my growing smile, but Condé only smirked.

“I could only imagine.” Now his smirk morphed into a full on smile, one of true happiness. He gestured for me to come to him and I crossed the room quickly, thankful for his company but also for his warmth. He drew up my hand, I suppose it was to kiss it, a true gentleman, but he stopped, his previous smile turning into a concerned frown, as he rose up to his full height, standing before me, but also between my near shivering body and the glowing fire. I fought a tremble but Conde seemed to noticed, pulling me close to him, breathing out a sigh of what I assumed was disappointment. He held on for a mere moment before gently releasing me from his grasp, and drawing a chair beside the fire, beckoning me to sit, before lying on the sheepskin rug himself.  

“Isn’t it rather unbecoming for one to lie across the floor?” I asked, bathing in the warmth given off by the fire, unabashedly extending my hands to warm them. This comment only earned me a quirked eyebrow.

“Isn’t it rather unbecoming for a Lady to sit in such a way that a man might see up her skirts?” He asked cheekily.

“So that’s why you’ve chosen to sit in such an uncomfortable position, a chance to glimpse up my skirts.” I said this in mock offense, sending us both into fits of laughter. After a moment there was a pause, each of us contemplating our station, and I know what I’d said was unfair, as there were thousands of Frenchmen and women who were starving in the streets while I was in the royal court with a foreign prince for heaven’s sake.

“I take you’re frozen hands and willingness to meet me at such an hour to mean that castle life hasn’t been treating either of us properly.” This caused me to snort, a rather unattractive quality for a lady, but I felt free from restrictions here, without the glaring eyes or the gossiping whispers.

“Oh you poor thing, what’s been troubling you your majesty.” I asked sarcastically.  With a wry smile, Conde starred into the fire

“Well, queen Catherine, or Lady Catherine, thinks that I’m trying to steal the crown for myself, she’s tried to have me killed on more than one occasion, and King Francis thinks that I’m in love with Mary, as do half the people at court, who see it as a scandal when I enter the same room as her.” I couldn’t realize how selfish I’d been, I knew attempted assassinations were common amongst royals but I hadn’t realized how unwelcome he was at this court, how isolated people chose to make him.  Slowly, I slid off the chair and onto the rug, trying to remain graceful, while also being a friend.

“But, don’t you love Mary?” I asked quietly, placing my hand on his shoulder. He sighed again, though this time is was as though he was tired, tired of putting up a façade, tired of pretending, tired of hiding what he truly felt. Silently, he laid his hand over my own, and hung his head.

“I suppose I am,” he began quietly, “But I shouldn’t be, I can’t be. She’s a married queen, and I’m just a passing nobleman, it could never be.” His voice rose violently, but at the end of his outburst he simply sounded defeated. I couldn’t help it, something about the way he was hanging his head, the way his defeated voice resonated off the chamber walls, the way he closed his eyes as if he were willing it all to disappear, for him to disappear.

I reached out to place my palms on either of his cheeks, his eyes fluttering open in confusion.

“Mary is a beautiful woman, who is smart and strong and brilliant; she is an excellent queen, but one with a fickle heart. There have been rumors, about how she is no longer living in the same chambers as the king, and she may need someone to comfort her, and you may wish to do so, but what kind of life would that be for you? A lifetime of secrets and hidden escapes and whispered declarations of love, all under her husband’s roof? All until she is needed once more at the kings side to rule France and produce heirs. And where would that leave you? You deserve so much more than that. You deserve to be happy, a life without secrets.” I waited for his to say something but the look in his glassy eyes said more than word ever could. He noiselessly slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me into his chest, tucking my head just under his chin.

“What are we to do?” He mumble into my hair, “Two outcasts like us.”  We laid like that for some time, friends in need of comfort, outcasts from everyone but each other, the only noise being the continuous crackle from the fireplace.

About two weeks after our encounter, I was reading a new book by the faint light of the small window in my room, when there was a rapping at the door. Assuming it was a servant, whose only purpose was to supply the castle with gossip, I didn’t bother to turn as I called

“Come in.” There was a fumbling noise, and then the heavy door being opened.

“A package for you M’Lady.” Curious as to what they could possibly mean, I marked my page and turned to see a large box in the arms of a stout woman who looked entirely out of breath.

“Just place it on the bed.” As she did so, she kept glancing at me, as if to see if I would open it and reveal its contents. I would give her no such satisfaction.

“If that’s all…” She curtseyed and left the room in a hurry, bustling off to someone more exciting. Making sure I was alone, I lifted the lid of the large box, to be met with the most exquisite blue dress I’d ever seen. On top was a small note reading

I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for two outcasts to be seen together, I expect to see you at the winter feast tonight, and I hope you’ll do me the honor of saving me a dance.