Page 113 of The Favourite

The Queen sighed at her vehemence. “Perhaps you are right. I am not remotely sentimental. It seems an odd thing to me, that a man capable of waging a brutal war, tearing his whole kingdom apart, resulting in the death of hundreds upon hundreds, could snivel into his supper for days over a very old woman passing.”

Jane pressed her lips together very tightly. “Doubtless we all have our foibles,” she said colorlessly.

“And frankly,” Armenal continued with a shrug, “I cannot see how adopting such a stratagem could have secured Lord Bardulf’s affections. He, like myself, is not remotely maudlin or prone to sentimentalize his childhood.”

Jane felt a spark of irritation flash through her. “Perhaps not, but he does not really have much to sentimentalize, does he? Considering the horrible events of his childhood.”

The Queen looked startled, her eyes opening very wide. “He told you of that?” she said in patent astonishment.

“But of course, he did, Your Majesty,” Jane answered with more than a hint of impatience. “I am his wife.”

“Well, yes, but …” The Queen hesitated. “One would naturally hesitate to speak of such disgrace in one’s family history, would one not? Especially,” she said, gesturing to Jane, “to one you highly esteem. Lord Bardulf serves the Western Isles most diligently—one assumes in the hope of assuaging his ignominious family history.”

Jane regarded her in stunned silence a moment. Clearly, the Queen regarded what happened in a different light than she did. “My understanding is that the crops failed that year, and his older brother was unable to pay the necessary tithe without his people suffering.”

The Queen nodded. “It was a sad business to be sure,” she said quietly, “but a nobleman’s first duty is to his liege, Jane, no one else. My brother, and all the Lasconian court, admired Henri de Balon. He was a perfect flower of youth. When he was cut down in his prime, it was a dreadful thing. My brother’s agent in that matter acted swiftly and harshly, but Wilhelm appreciated that if he had not, then he could have had a wide-scale revolt on his hands. This is the ultimate responsibility of kings. It can be a merciless task at times and run contrary to one’s own private feeling.”

“I understand,” replied Jane silkily, “though it must seem unfathomable to outsiders. Such as King Wymer holding Bathilde in such high affection whilst simultaneously having torn his country asunder in a civil war.”

The Queen gave a start. “You are right, Jane,” she said, nodding her head slowly and transferring her gaze to the fire once again. “I do not extend my husband the same courtesy of understanding that I do my brother.” She was silent for a long moment. “So,” she said at last, “it was your compassionate nature that earned Lord Bardulf’s love?”

Jane struggled with this a moment but could make no answer. Fortunately, the Queen was speaking again, so she did not have to. “I will admit that Lord Bardulf never seemed to me a man who would be susceptible to such things, but there you have it … the inner workings of a man’s heart must be a peculiar thing indeed.”

“Doubtless,” Jane said flatly.

“And now you are cross with me, Jane,” the Queen said regretfully. “You think I do not deserve the benefit of your advice and, perhaps, after all, I do not. I am ungrateful.” She held out a hand. “Come and tell me you forgive me.”

Jane flushed and made haste to clasp the Queen’s hand. “Your Majesty, I would never—”

“I have decided,” the Queen interrupted her with sudden decision, “that I will adopt your strategy.” She declared it graciously, though Jane could tell she was both disappointed and skeptical about everything she had urged. Perhaps, the Queen supposed she had the ingredients for some obscure love philter, she thought wryly.

It was a miracle that the Queen was ready when the royal ushers arrived shortly after to escort her to the King’s apartments. “I will see you on the morrow, Jane,” the Queen said by way of farewell. “You must come to me early,” she added impulsively, “as you used to.”

Jane’s heart sank, though she could not have said precisely why. “Yes, Your Majesty.” She dipped a curtsey and beat a hasty retreat.

25

Alisander turned his head sharply, hearing a door open and close. He folded his note and concealed it in his pocket before turning to face the door. To his annoyance, he heard another open and then Jane’s unmistakable tones lifted in speech with another. Had she gone to check on Celestia before coming to find him? He stood up and crossed the room to go in search of her.

Sure enough, he found Jane crouched down beside the tub, where Anne was employed in bathing both children. Celestia was gazing up at her, a puzzled expression of concentration on her face while Bertrand splashed about beside her.

“She looks as though she is struggling to make out my face, Anne,” Jane said with a trace of anxiety. “I do hope her sight is not failing her.”

Anne guffawed. “Lord bless you, milady; they’re all like that at first. I used to think Bertrand was practically cross-eyed the way he would squint at me, but he don’t do it no more.”

Jane nodded, looking relieved. “She is kicking her legs a little too, so that is a good sign, is it not?”

Alisander leaned against the door, his eyes on Jane. She clearly knew he was there but was pretending she had not noticed him. After a few moments, she went to inspect the cloths laid out in front of the fire. “They’re nice and warm,” she commented, gathering them up and returning to the bath.

Anne looked up. “I’ll lift them out, milady. You’ll get marks on your silk dress.”

Jane glanced down, as if only just remembering her finery. She passed the cloths to Anne before turning impulsively toward Alisander. “Do you suppose they will feel some sort of bond when they are older?” she asked in a low voice. “Sort of like … mock siblings?”

Her question startled him. “Why should they?”

“Well …” She glanced around to watch as Anne lifted Celestia out of the water. “They sleep in the same crib, bathe together in the same tub, and nurse at the same breast,” she pointed out, matter-of-factly. “Would it be so very surprising if they did?”

“You refer to milk-kinship?” he asked. “I have heard of such a concept, but I don’t know that it is one acknowledged in our part of the world.”