Chapter Thirteen #3
“Wait for the child to be born. If Guildford is lucky, it will be a girl, and if he is wise, he will accept an annulment of the marriage, humble himself to the dust, and vow never to lay eyes on Margaret Clifford again.”
“And if he is neither lucky nor wise?”
“Then we shall see.” He gave her a look that spoke of confidences kept, of so many things he knew and never told.
It made her feel less guilty about keeping her own counsel. Two could play this game, and no one better than Henry’s children.
The nearer they drew to Nonsuch, the more Dominic felt Minuette closing herself off.
He couldn’t fault her, for he was withdrawing, too.
Their honest—if angry—passion at his mother’s house could not last, and already they were barricaded behind their secrets.
How can it be otherwise? he thought miserably.
As long as we are lying, we will never have peace.
But he did not regret what he had said to her.
Between breaking his heart and breaking his loyalty, it would have to be his heart that suffered.
He realized wretchedly that part of him was already preparing to say goodbye to Minuette.
That resignation strengthened when they reached the court.
The royal banners streamed from the walls and towers of Nonsuch Palace, and William himself stood waiting in the courtyard.
He greeted Dominic first, warmly, but with all his being yearning for Minuette.
It was obvious to Dominic—he worried how obvious it might be to the others.
Elizabeth was quick to take possession of her lady, but not before William had swept Minuette into an embrace that lasted too long to be merely friendly.
Dominic saw Rochford watching them and almost rejoiced.
From his expression, the Lord Chancellor clearly knew about William’s intentions, and just as clearly was dead set against it.
Good—Rochford had long practice in enforcing his will on a kingdom.
William would be hard pressed to oppose his uncle.
And though it stung Dominic to speak about Minuette at all with William, he knew he would have to begin persuading him.
Put aside his own reticence and argue for England’s sake. Right before he asked to leave court.
He began as soon as he was alone with William. When the women withdrew from the courtyard, he and the king walked in Nonsuch Great Park with only four guards ahead and behind for privacy.
“Tell me about Simon Renard,” William said.
“Like all ambassadors,” Dominic answered. “He speaks in maybes and perhapses and what-ifs.”
“Must have driven you crazy.”
Dominic shrugged. “Only when I have to play the same game. I didn’t bother with Renard. When I told him you wished to approach Prince Philip, he grasped at once that you intend to set aside the French.”
“Did he grasp why?”
“I don’t think so. He didn’t mention any particular woman, at least. I would say that he suspects you of wishing to solidify your position with a Protestant marriage. Jane Grey, probably.” Dominic slid lightly over her name, hoping William would not renew their earlier conversation about her.
“Good.” William sounded satisfied. “What will Renard do next?”
“He promised to approach his prince, and intimated he would prefer to return you an answer in person.”
“If he brings me the right answer, he is welcome at my court as long as he wishes. Did he seem amenable?”
“He didn’t seem displeased. But when it comes to a decision—I don’t know. Elizabeth is a prize, no doubt of it, but an alliance means more than just a marriage. Will it be to Spain’s benefit to ally themselves militarily with us? That likely depends on circumstances at the time of any alliance.”
“And you think we cannot compete with France.”
“I think that we have to try harder to prove our strength, seeing as France shares the Continent with Spain and we do not. Your victory last year has helped tremendously. But we must hold what we took and, maybe, fight once more. Which no doubt we will have to do when you discard Elisabeth de France.”
“Why Dominic, you do not sound as though you like that plan. Aren’t you the soldier? I expect a bit more enthusiasm for battle from you.”
He thought of Renaud LeClerc and of Nicole, who was so glad to have her husband home.
He thought of the little princess in France who yearned desperately to know how to please her betrothed.
And he thought of William, moving them all around as though they were chess pieces to be picked up and cast aside at his whim.
“As a soldier, I anticipate necessary battles, not those fought for sport. We have bought peace, Your Majesty, at a dear price. Why be in a rush to throw that away?”
Dominic knew it was his use of William’s title, as much as his tone, that narrowed the king’s eyes as he answered. “If I were in a rush to throw away peace, then Minuette would already be carrying my son. Don’t lecture me about patience.”
“I only meant that, more than any other man, your decisions cannot be based solely on your own preferences.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” William’s shout carried, and Dominic knew he had gone too far.
“Everyone is so keen to remind me that my choices matter to England. What everyone seems to forget is this: I am England. I have been from the moment my father drew his last breath. And as I would do nothing to injure myself, I am incapable of injuring England.”
“It’s only that … with Minuette—” Fortunately, he didn’t have to think how to continue, because William cut in.
“England needs me as king, and I need Minuette as my queen. She will be good for England because she is good for me. Don’t argue my uncle’s side for him, Dom. He does it quite thoroughly on his own.”
“What if I am arguing my own side?”
William’s brow furrowed. “I would expect you, of all people, to approve of Minuette. Others may look only at her birth, or her less than wealthy circumstances, or her youth. But you know better. You know her goodness, her generosity, her kindness to all, her understanding of human nature, her charm and poise and diplomatic skill … you know my people will love her. Look me in the eyes and tell me that Minuette will not make a glorious queen.”
It had been months since Dominic had been able to look his friend in the eyes. “Not everyone sees her as you do.”
“They will. And on the day she gives me a royal son and England falls at her feet, I will remind you that I was right and you were wrong.”
“Until that day,” Dominic warned, “tread carefully. The French are wary.”
“You just keep me apprised of your friend’s thoughts. I expect if French wariness turns into French aggression, Renaud LeClerc will know of it first.”
Wonderful, Dominic thought. Not only have I failed to persuade William to reconsider Minuette, now he intends to use my friendships against me. “Yes, Your Majesty.”