Yes, the daughters of Francis (and Mary Tudor the younger) were all too young for him, but they were also available for him and engaged to him. Here he MUST demonstrate who HE is NOT interested anymore in a French or English match (as both girls are engaged to men lower than him) so he must marry Isabella of Portugal quickly for saving his face and pride (you know: I choose to marry Isabella because I was tired to wait for a bride so Francis and Henry were forced to accept lesser matches for their daughters).
A Queen Twice Over: Mary Tudor the Elder Marries Francis I of France
- Thread starter FalconHonour
- Start date
One other thing that I've thought of: however Henry's 'Great Matter' is resolved ITTL, Mary will have to remain legitimate so that she can marry Orléans. There's no way Henry would break his alliance with François while Marie is alive.
Oh yeah, little Mary is definitely staying legitimate. Whether she ends up as Duchess of Milan and Orleans in the long term is still a matter for debate, but she is definitely staying legitimate.
If Charles marries Isabella before 1526 then they have more fertile years together and can perhaps have more infantes and infantas than otl.
Section XXV - December 1520
St-Germain-En-Laye, December 1520
The frost lies thick on the ground and sparkles on the windows of Francis’s favourite palace – well, his favourite apart from Fontainebleau, which is currently covered in scaffolding as he turns it into a grand Renaissance spectacle. Inside St-Germain, however, it is a beehive, buzzing warmly with frenetic activity. The King’s new daughter, Mademoiselle Louise, is to be baptised on the morrow, and all must be absolutely perfect.
Skidding around the corner with a pile of linen in her arms, Duchess Marguerite’s thirteen-year-old favourite, Anne Boleyn, crashes straight into the Count of St Pol, rebounding off his chest and clattering to the floor with a groan.
“Oof! Sorry, My Lord,” she exclaims breathlessly, looking up at him with embarrassment staining her cheeks.
“No harm done, Mademoiselle Boleyn,” St Pol assures her, bending to help her to her feet. Once she is standing again, he bows over her hand, “I should have been the one to watch where I was going, rather than bowl over such a beautiful young lady.”
“Beautiful?” Anne scoffs, “I fear your Lordship might have me confused with another girl. I’m too dark and sallow by any yardstick.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to put yourself down,” St Pol retorts, “After all, Madame Alençon has long had a reputation as a collector of rare treasures, and are you not her Petite Boleynette?”
Before Anne can respond to that, St Pol piles the linens she was carrying back into her arms.
“Now, I hear we are both taking part in the celebrations tomorrow?”
“Yes. You will be godfather, of course, and I am to carry Madame de Savoy’s train as she bears Mademoiselle Louise to the font,” Anne smiles, pride lacing her voice. To be allowed to carry the train of the newest royal child’s godmother is a great honour for a girl barely in her teens, even if she is close to both the Duchess of Alençon and the Dauphine, and she knows it.
St Pol chuckles, “Indeed. And Madame Alençon has already asked me to escort you to the feast afterwards.”
Anne blinks. What is Madame Marguerite playing at? The Count of St Pol shouldn’t be escorting her, he should be escorting Madame de Savoy, or else the other godmother, the Duchess of Vendôme. But Lord St Pol is looking at her with so little guile in his face, it must be true.
Blushing, she curtsies, “I thank you, My Lord.”
St Pol nods, then looks at her calculatingly, “First Balinghem, now the christening of Mademoiselle Louise. We’re being thrown together rather a lot, it seems to me.”
“Would you have a problem with it if we were?” Anne takes the leading note in his voice and runs with it, tossing her dark hair back as she speaks. Instantly, the prideful girl is gone and in her place is a practised flirt.
St Pol shrugs, “None at all. The real question, Mademoiselle, is, would you?”
Anne flushes an even deeper shade of scarlet and changes the subject, “Would you like to meet your goddaughter, My Lord?”
“It would be an honour, Mademoiselle. Would you introduce us?”
“It would be a pleasure, My Lord. I’m on my way to the nursery as we speak,” Anne dips slightly and takes St Pol’s arm as he offers it to her. They stride down the corridor together, chatting lightly about this and that.
Anne draws several envious looks as they go, for, as an unmarried Prince of the Blood in his late twenties, with a mane of chestnut hair, a shapely turned calf and piercing grey eyes, St Pol is the object of many a maid-of-honour’s dreams. To see him walking and talking merrily with an English nobody rankles, even if said nobody is Madame Alençon’s little pet. Monsieur d’ St Pol is even letting her brace the linens she carries on his arm, for God’s sake!
The two companions, however, pay no heed to the whispers they leave in their wake. They stroll together amiably, only pausing outside the nursery wing when they hear the screams emanating from inside.
Anne rolls her eyes.
“Lord Orleans. He hasn’t taken well to his new role of big brother.”
She doesn’t quite know why she says it. After all, she scarcely knows Lord St Pol. But something about him makes her comfortable, brings out her more natural, sarcastic side.
St Pol smirks, “So I hear. Shall we see whether a visit from a real knight can remind the young Duke of his manners?”
Anne laughs, “If you’ve time after you’ve paid your respects to your goddaughter, then I’m sure Lady Parr would much appreciate your help, Lord St Pol.”
“Fran,” St Pol corrects, lifting her hand to his lips and holding the door for her to enter the nursery wing, “I would be remiss, Mademoiselle Boleyn, if I didn’t allow a beautiful young lady such as yourself to call me Fran.”
I did say Anne wasn't going home, did I not? You can thank @The_Most_Happy for urging me toward this couple...
Also, if anyone's wondering, I was picturing a young James McAvoy as St Pol when I wrote that description of him...
I'd like to think it's cute, but...
That's a bit too nope for me.
Precisely, yes. Not that I have seen it, but having looked up some photos, that's what I was going for.
Whatever gave you that idea? 😉😉😉
So do I!!
St Pol? https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francis_de_Bourbon,_Count_of_St._Pol
I see your point, but that's modern sensibilities talking. 13 years old then was a woman, not a child. As long as St Pol doesn't bed Anne too soon, no one will bat an eyelid. Which he won't. Marguerite would kill him, and besides, the Italian Wars are about to get in the way...
glad you liked it!