The Wild Queen by Carolyn Meyer Page B

spirits so long as Madame de Parois was my governess.
    In the end I did recover, and Parois remained stubbornly in place. But I could not tolerate the miserable situation much longer.

Chapter 14
A Miserable Situation

    F OR THE NEXT TWO YEARS Madame de Parois clung to her position as my governess and continued to find ways to make trouble—some minor and some quite serious.
    Queen Catherine, my kind friend and companion during hours spent together over our needlework, suddenly turned cold. I was no longer invited to her apartments. She ignored me. I had no idea why. Had I done something to offend her? I could not imagine what.
    Court gossip made its way down to the servants’ dining hall, where my faithful Sinclair learned the actual facts and related them to me. Madame de Parois had been spreading a false rumor about me. She claimed I was overheard speaking ill of Queen Catherine to her rival Diane de Poitiers. The rumor reached the queen, who believed what she was told about my behavior.
    It was true that I had become fond of Madame de Poitiers, especially after her kindness to me when my mother left for Scotland at the end of her yearlong visit. To take my mind off my sadness, the duchess had several times invited me to Château d’Anet.
    The old square towers of the château had been torn down and replaced by dramatic black and white columns. The intertwined initials
H,
for Henri, and
D,
for Diane, and her cipher, three interlaced crescent moons, were to be found everywhere. At the entrance to the château an enormous clock with a hunting scene stood atop the massive gate. Every time the minute hand reached the twelve, a pack of bronze hounds holding a large bronze stag at bay leaped toward the quarry; the stag turned to flee, stopping first to strike the hour with its raised hoof before bounding away from the dogs. I never tired of that marvelous clock and begged to be present as each hour approached.
    Anet became a place of enchantment for me, and I was delighted that Madame de Poitiers welcomed me as her guest. But I should have known that Queen Catherine would not be pleased when her young companion of the needle and embroidery silk deserted her for her rival’s magnificent retreat, especially when I learned that Anet had been a gift to the duchess from the king. Naturally, Madame de Parois knew of my excursions from Saint-Germain to Anet—I could go nowhere without her knowledge—and on one of her frequent trips to Paris, my governess launched the rumor that “the little Scottish queen” had become an intimate friend of the king’s mistress. To add spice to her story, Parois claimed that Madame de Poitiers and I passed our time remarking on the queen’s shortcomings—her aging looks, her dreary gowns, even the way she spoke French with an Italian accent. Worst of all, Madame de Parois went about saying that I often referred to Queen Catherine as “the merchant’s daughter,” which I had not, though I had overheard courtiers who disdained the queen speak of her in that way.
    â€œThat’s the talk among the servants, my lady,” said Sinclair. “They hear their mistresses gossiping about the gossipers and add a bit to it. You are paying the price for your governess’s wicked tongue, you who have never said an unkind word about Queen Catherine. Sadly, the queen believes what she has been told.”
    Sinclair was not fond of Madame de Poitiers, but she heartily disliked Parois. “A person cannot help but feel an ache in her heart for Queen Catherine at having the king’s haughty mistress parade in front of her every hour of the day and night. But Madame de Parois is a shrew and a mischief-maker, and I have long wished her gone.”
    The situation caused me great distress, but there was little I could do to mend it. I did complain to my uncles and to my grandmother about my governess’s behavior. But it was not easy to remove such