The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [31]
This made it clear that Thibault had ranged himself on the side of de la Chtre against the King.
Louis was deeply distressed. His prayers were intensified; he was nervous. I was constantly in fear that he would commit some weak action which would make the whole world despise him.
Then another matter drove all those from my mind.
I had been so concerned about Louis and this unfortunate trouble over the Archbishop that I had not seen as much of Petronilla as I usually did. Normally she was constantly in my company. We liked to be together and although we did not discuss affairs of state, we shared memories of the past and had always been the best of friends.
I noticed now that she looked a little pale, and there was a secretive expression on her face. A suspicion came into my mind which I immediately dismissed. Of course it could not be!
Something had happened and I decided to tackle her, but I had to wait until we were quite alone; this was a subject entirely between us two.
I made the opportunity and I said: “Petronilla, you had better tell me.”
The color rushed into her face. I began to think: It is so. Oh no! Impossible!
“Come on,” I said firmly. “It would seem that you are keeping me in the dark.”
She said almost defiantly: “I am . . . so happy.”
“Well then, let me share that happiness. Are you with child?”
She did not answer. I was dumbfounded for, although the idea had occurred to me, it seemed so incredible that I could not seriously believe it. Petronilla pregnant . . . the sister of the Queen in such a condition . . . like some serving wench!
“We can be married,” she said.
“I should hope so. Who is this man?”
She was silent for a few seconds. I took her by the shoulders and shook her.
“Tell me,” I cried. “Tell me.”
“It is Raoul of Vermandois.”
I could find no words. I had expected it to be some humble squire . . . some msalliance. This was far worse.
At last I said: “But . . . he already has a wife.”
“There is going to be a divorce.”
“A divorce? On what grounds?”
“Consanguinity.”
“And who do you think will grant that?”
“Raoul’s brother is the Bishop of Noyon. He can get two other priests to support him.”
“So you have arranged all this?”
“When I became . . .”
“Petronilla, you fool! I could have arranged the grandest marriage for you.”
“Raoul is one of the most important men in France.”
“And already a husband.”
“I have told you that can be overcome.”
“And then you will marry. Oh, how could you? How could he?”
“I have always loved him . . . from the time I first saw him. Do you remember? He came with Thibault of Champagne before you were married.”
“Thibault of Champagne! Holy Mother of God, Vermandois’s wife is his niece.”
“What of it?”
“What of it? Do you realize that we are on the worst possible terms with Champagne? Do you think he will meekly stand by and let his niece be cast aside?”
“Raoul says it will come out right in the end.”
“He is a philanderer . . . so to take advantage of an innocent girl.”
“He didn’t have much chance, poor man. I forced him.”
Petronilla laughed suddenly and I laughed with her. “You are an idiot,” I said.
“I know, but a very happy idiot. I shall have the best man in the world for a husband.”
“Not yet and I would challenge that statement.”
“And I have the dearest sister in the world. None could challenge that, Eleanor. You’ll help, won’t you?”
“I am most displeased.”
“I know. But you do like him, don’t you? You do agree that he is the most fascinating man at Court?”
“At least that is one matter on which you and he will agree. He is conceited and arrogant.”
“And so very attractive. Admit it, Eleanor.”
“I suppose he would appeal to some.”
She looked at me archly. She would have heard those honeyed compliments which had come my way. She knew that I liked the man myself. I could not hide such things from Petronilla.
She cried: “I am so glad that you know. I wanted to tell you before. We always shared things, didn’t we? But Raoul thought