A Queen Twice Over: Mary Tudor the Elder Marries Francis I of France
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Section CLXII: September 1541
With thanks to @Awkwardvulture for inspiring this chapter!
Louise is exercising her favourite horse in the yard, when, all of a sudden, she becomes aware of someone’s eyes on her.
Bending Artemis around her inside leg, she trots back to the fence in a tight circle.
Lord Lennox leans against the top rail, his thick blonde hair gleaming in the autumn sunshine. He bows as Louise draws rein beside him, and she nods in acknowledgement.
“Your steward said I might find you out here, Your Grace. Are you enjoying your ride?”
Louise shrugs, “Artemis is more of a hunter than a palfrey, so she’s crying out for a few good miles, but you can hardly get those on this island. Still, she’s willing enough, and it’s not raining, so one must be thankful for small mercies.”
“Indeed,” Lord Lennox scrambles the fence and comes to stand at Artemis’s head. He pats the bright bay neck a couple of times, and then looks up to Louise.
“May I, Your Grace?” he asks, reaching up to help her down, his strong hands hovering an inch or so from her waist.
Despite herself, Louise shivers. She was and always will be devoted to Jamie, of course, but there’s something about Lord Lennox’s rugged strength and leonine green eyes that she has always found attractive. It’s as though his very gaze has a pull that draws her in.
Putting that thought firmly to the back of her mind – Jamie hasn’t even been dead a year, for goodness’ sake – she places her hands on Lord Lennox’s shoulders and lets him lift her down.
“I must say, I’m surprised to see you here, Lord Lennox,” she murmurs, as her feet hit the ground, “I would have thought a seasoned courtier like yourself would be at Court right now, finding your feet with the new regime.”
“Not nearly as surprised as I am to find a sparkling diamond like yourself rusticating in the countryside, Your Grace. Lochleven may be your dower property, but it is far too quiet for a jewel like Your Grace.”
Lord Lennox kisses Louise’s hand and then, without having to be asked, loops Artemis’s reins into one hand. He offers Louise his other arm, and she lays her hand on his sleeve, all too conscious of the handsome Earl’s warmth beneath her hand.
She hates herself for her loss of composure, but even so, she can’t stop her cheeks from pinkening slightly as she answers Lord Lennox’s unspoken question, “I should think a man with a mind as swift as yours should be able to work out why I’ve made such a choice, Lord Lennox. But if you really need me to spell it out, then, by all means, stay for supper. It would be a delight to have such a noble guest for once. Far too few people beat a path to my door these days.”
The fire crackles, the conversation flows. Though there are four years between them, Louise and Matthew Lennox are both lively, bold and witty. Something in their natures calls to each other, and, by the time the last course has been served and cleared away, the wine has lowered their inhibitions enough for them to be most candid with one another.
Hand shaking ever so slightly, Louise pours her guest another goblet of malmsey and gestures him to a padded stool by the fire.
“You never did tell me what brought you here, Lord Lennox,” she smiles, the merest hint of a slur in her voice, “I thought you were great friends with King Alexander. Isn’t everyone expecting you to be named godfather to the next royal child when they arrive around All Souls?”
“For my sins, yes,” Matthew rolls his eyes, “I’ll stand up for the child if I’m asked, of course, because His Grace and I have been friends since boyhood, but honestly, I half hope His Grace doesn’t ask me. The less time I have to spend at Court, the better. The way King Alexander fawns over that minx of his makes me sick. She may be well-connected, all things considered, but still, she has no true royal blood in her. I know you didn’t get on all that well with your cousin, but even Your Grace must admit she would have made a better Queen than Mistress Eleanor.”
Louise narrows her eyes at Matthew, “You say that now, Lord Lennox, but I remember a time when you were more than happy to play court to Mistress Eleanor.”
“Aye,” Matthew holds up a hand in surrender, “I admit it, I had my head turned by her fair hair and flashing blue eyes, to say nothing of how close she was to Lady Ross. Your Grace must admit that beauty and influence can make for a heady, potent elixir. But when I saw Mistress Eleanor force Your Grace to curtsy to her in June, and slight you by having a mere Viscount escort you into dinner, why, then, the scales fell from my eyes. I assure you, no wife of mine would ever be so petty as to flaunt her power so. Not over a Princess of the Blood.”
“Well then, we are in agreement. You see why I can’t go back to Court? Not even for the sake of my daughters. How could I bear having to follow the hem of that hussy’s gown?”
Louise tries for nonchalance, shrugging as though her demotion to mere ‘Queen Louise’ doesn’t sting, but her voice is thick with scorn and her dark eyes flash dangerously as she continues, “Lochleven might be quiet, but at least here, my servants have the grace to treat me like the Princess I was born.”
“I’d treat you like a Queen!” Wine loosens Matthew’s tongue and he speaks without meaning to, but once the words are out, he quickly becomes enraptured with the idea blossoming in his head.
“I have an estate in England, one I bought off the Countess of Surrey a few years ago. It’s called Temple Newsham. If we went there, we’d be out of King Alexander’s reach. He wouldn’t be able to stop me honouring you as you deserve!” Leaping to his feet, Matthew throws himself to his knees in front of Louise. He snatches up her hand, covering it in fervent, enthusiastic kisses.
“What do you say, My Lady Queen? Will you let me take you to England and let me make you my Queen?”
Louise ought to say no. She ought to say no, even if for no other reason than that Lord Lennox is more than half drunk and there is no guaranteeing that he’ll even remember this promise in the morning.
However, she is more than slightly tipsy herself, and besides, she’s tired of being no more than a foreign Princess, only tolerated in Scotland because she’s the mother of two of King Alexander’s nieces. The idea of Queening it at Temple Newsham is more than tempting, to say the least. Besides, while she knows, logically, that Frances is her daughter, she has never yet felt more than a dutiful concern towards the child. She’ll take Isobel with her to Temple Newsham, and if this stunt means she is no longer allowed to see her younger daughter, then so be it. Frances will be better off in Lady Fleming’s care anyway. At least the older woman can rustle up a modicum of warmth for the child.
Mind made up, Louise leaps to seize Lord Lennox’s gleaming offer before it can be retracted or even lose its lustre. She nods frantically, “Take me away. Take me away, Matthew.”
Matthew bows again, so low that he almost overbalances in his inebriated state.
“Your wish is my command! Tell your women to start packing. We ride at dawn!”
Lochleven, September 1541
Louise is exercising her favourite horse in the yard, when, all of a sudden, she becomes aware of someone’s eyes on her.
Bending Artemis around her inside leg, she trots back to the fence in a tight circle.
Lord Lennox leans against the top rail, his thick blonde hair gleaming in the autumn sunshine. He bows as Louise draws rein beside him, and she nods in acknowledgement.
“Your steward said I might find you out here, Your Grace. Are you enjoying your ride?”
Louise shrugs, “Artemis is more of a hunter than a palfrey, so she’s crying out for a few good miles, but you can hardly get those on this island. Still, she’s willing enough, and it’s not raining, so one must be thankful for small mercies.”
“Indeed,” Lord Lennox scrambles the fence and comes to stand at Artemis’s head. He pats the bright bay neck a couple of times, and then looks up to Louise.
“May I, Your Grace?” he asks, reaching up to help her down, his strong hands hovering an inch or so from her waist.
Despite herself, Louise shivers. She was and always will be devoted to Jamie, of course, but there’s something about Lord Lennox’s rugged strength and leonine green eyes that she has always found attractive. It’s as though his very gaze has a pull that draws her in.
Putting that thought firmly to the back of her mind – Jamie hasn’t even been dead a year, for goodness’ sake – she places her hands on Lord Lennox’s shoulders and lets him lift her down.
“I must say, I’m surprised to see you here, Lord Lennox,” she murmurs, as her feet hit the ground, “I would have thought a seasoned courtier like yourself would be at Court right now, finding your feet with the new regime.”
“Not nearly as surprised as I am to find a sparkling diamond like yourself rusticating in the countryside, Your Grace. Lochleven may be your dower property, but it is far too quiet for a jewel like Your Grace.”
Lord Lennox kisses Louise’s hand and then, without having to be asked, loops Artemis’s reins into one hand. He offers Louise his other arm, and she lays her hand on his sleeve, all too conscious of the handsome Earl’s warmth beneath her hand.
She hates herself for her loss of composure, but even so, she can’t stop her cheeks from pinkening slightly as she answers Lord Lennox’s unspoken question, “I should think a man with a mind as swift as yours should be able to work out why I’ve made such a choice, Lord Lennox. But if you really need me to spell it out, then, by all means, stay for supper. It would be a delight to have such a noble guest for once. Far too few people beat a path to my door these days.”
The fire crackles, the conversation flows. Though there are four years between them, Louise and Matthew Lennox are both lively, bold and witty. Something in their natures calls to each other, and, by the time the last course has been served and cleared away, the wine has lowered their inhibitions enough for them to be most candid with one another.
Hand shaking ever so slightly, Louise pours her guest another goblet of malmsey and gestures him to a padded stool by the fire.
“You never did tell me what brought you here, Lord Lennox,” she smiles, the merest hint of a slur in her voice, “I thought you were great friends with King Alexander. Isn’t everyone expecting you to be named godfather to the next royal child when they arrive around All Souls?”
“For my sins, yes,” Matthew rolls his eyes, “I’ll stand up for the child if I’m asked, of course, because His Grace and I have been friends since boyhood, but honestly, I half hope His Grace doesn’t ask me. The less time I have to spend at Court, the better. The way King Alexander fawns over that minx of his makes me sick. She may be well-connected, all things considered, but still, she has no true royal blood in her. I know you didn’t get on all that well with your cousin, but even Your Grace must admit she would have made a better Queen than Mistress Eleanor.”
Louise narrows her eyes at Matthew, “You say that now, Lord Lennox, but I remember a time when you were more than happy to play court to Mistress Eleanor.”
“Aye,” Matthew holds up a hand in surrender, “I admit it, I had my head turned by her fair hair and flashing blue eyes, to say nothing of how close she was to Lady Ross. Your Grace must admit that beauty and influence can make for a heady, potent elixir. But when I saw Mistress Eleanor force Your Grace to curtsy to her in June, and slight you by having a mere Viscount escort you into dinner, why, then, the scales fell from my eyes. I assure you, no wife of mine would ever be so petty as to flaunt her power so. Not over a Princess of the Blood.”
“Well then, we are in agreement. You see why I can’t go back to Court? Not even for the sake of my daughters. How could I bear having to follow the hem of that hussy’s gown?”
Louise tries for nonchalance, shrugging as though her demotion to mere ‘Queen Louise’ doesn’t sting, but her voice is thick with scorn and her dark eyes flash dangerously as she continues, “Lochleven might be quiet, but at least here, my servants have the grace to treat me like the Princess I was born.”
“I’d treat you like a Queen!” Wine loosens Matthew’s tongue and he speaks without meaning to, but once the words are out, he quickly becomes enraptured with the idea blossoming in his head.
“I have an estate in England, one I bought off the Countess of Surrey a few years ago. It’s called Temple Newsham. If we went there, we’d be out of King Alexander’s reach. He wouldn’t be able to stop me honouring you as you deserve!” Leaping to his feet, Matthew throws himself to his knees in front of Louise. He snatches up her hand, covering it in fervent, enthusiastic kisses.
“What do you say, My Lady Queen? Will you let me take you to England and let me make you my Queen?”
Louise ought to say no. She ought to say no, even if for no other reason than that Lord Lennox is more than half drunk and there is no guaranteeing that he’ll even remember this promise in the morning.
However, she is more than slightly tipsy herself, and besides, she’s tired of being no more than a foreign Princess, only tolerated in Scotland because she’s the mother of two of King Alexander’s nieces. The idea of Queening it at Temple Newsham is more than tempting, to say the least. Besides, while she knows, logically, that Frances is her daughter, she has never yet felt more than a dutiful concern towards the child. She’ll take Isobel with her to Temple Newsham, and if this stunt means she is no longer allowed to see her younger daughter, then so be it. Frances will be better off in Lady Fleming’s care anyway. At least the older woman can rustle up a modicum of warmth for the child.
Mind made up, Louise leaps to seize Lord Lennox’s gleaming offer before it can be retracted or even lose its lustre. She nods frantically, “Take me away. Take me away, Matthew.”
Matthew bows again, so low that he almost overbalances in his inebriated state.
“Your wish is my command! Tell your women to start packing. We ride at dawn!”
I told you she was her mother's daughter. And yes, she will. I promise you that.
Oh yes, what a lovely chapter. How romantic to see Louise and Matthew run off together, I hope that they will be happy in England! Louise is the daughter of King Henry's favorite sister, after all...
If she takes Isobel without asking permission… Diane will be more than able to convince Henry not to separate his niece from her daughter (and with Marie so recently dead, I doubt he would be cruel to his niece). If Henry doesn’t force her to go back to Scotland, I doubt Alexander will start a war over it
I guess living in England is the lesser evil compared to staying in Scotland and having to bend the knee to Eleanor
I hope Henry finds out she called him a murderer to his late daughter's face and sends her back to Scotland
Indeed. And she can stay in the North, keep away from Court.
A part of me was rooting for Louise to get a second chance of happiness (despite this being very scandalous and ill-thought-out) but this I cannot condone. I know that this is a different time and all, but to so blatantly pick one child over the other without even a care for the other child... That is repulsive in my eyes
Louise turned out to be more her mother's daughter then thought in this scenario.
Over Louise? I’m sure he’ll be glad to have her out of his hair. The problem lies in her feeling she had the liberty to take a Lady of Scotland out of Scotland.
And Louise is eloping after marrying where duty commanded her to… which shouldn’t be a foreign concept to Alexander.
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