A SUDDEN ILLNESS
Claudine looked moodily out of the window onto the estate. She was in the turret room at the palace, sewing. Around her, she could hear the chatter and the laughter of the other young women who shared the space with her – all of them a friendly group now – but she couldn't share in their easy banter, their bright laughs.
None of this makes sense anymore.
Francis had left. He had taken a part of her with him. She knew it was a strange way to feel – he had been so briefly in her life – but he had brought such light and joy to it.
“Milady?”
Claudine looked up blankly to see Bernadette standing before her, a gentle frown on her brow.
“Yes?”
“Would you like to retire now?”
Claudine nodded. “Yes, Bernadette.”
She stretched, realizing that she had been sitting bent over her embroidery work for the entire afternoon. She hadn't moved for about three hours. Her neck and back pained her and her eyes were starting to squint.
“You're finished for the day?” Fabienne, one of the ladies, asked softly.
Claudine nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, I think I am almost done myself.” Fabienne stifled a yawn. “I've been looking down at threads for far too long. I'll take a walk.”
As the group all nodded their assent and stood, packing away their tapestry work in neat baskets, Claudine followed Bernadette out of the hall.
When they reached their rooms, Bernadette whispered to her. “Be not so sad.”
Claudine sighed and sat down on the bed. “I can't help it, Bernadette. It's all so...empty now. I don't know how to feel better.”
Bernadette sighed. “I'm so sorry, my dear. Mayhap a ride in the countryside would cheer you?”
Claudine frowned. It had been a while since she had attempted a ride – even walking down the stairs to the stables made her joints ache and her heart thump. “If you think I could?” she asked.
“I don't know, milady,” Bernadette said. “Only you could know. We could go and sit on the terrace awhile, if you prefer?”
Claudine nodded. “I would like that. The afternoon sun is so pleasant.”
“Mm.” Bernadette nodded. “We should make sure to wear hats.”
Claudine smiled. Trust Bernadette to think of something like that. She was always thinking ahead, considering what one would need to be comfortable. “Yes.”
They donned head-dresses – Claudine wore a flowing satin scarf over a starched frame that held it out like two shimmering wings on either side of her face. Bernadette wore a similar one, only more modest.
They headed out into the sunshine together.
“Out for sun gazing, eh?”
Claudine jumped. She hadn't expected to hear her uncle just then.
“Uh, yes, Uncle. A good afternoon for it, I think?”
“Mm,” he nodded. He pursed his lips, handsome face considering. “I am glad to see you looking so restored, my niece. It makes a change after the toll on your health of all that activity last week.”
“Activity?” Claudine frowned. Her heart thumped and she felt Bernadette tense beside her. How did he know? Had he seen Francis leave her rooms?
“I referred to the ball you attended,” he said smoothly. “And the number of times you watched the sword-skills practice in the yard.”
“Oh.” Claudine felt herself relax a little.
“You seemed intensely eager to follow the progress of our young nobles.” He raised a brow. “I was surprised.”
Claudine blushed. “Well, Uncle. It seems sensible to take an interest in the force that could preserve one's life one day.”
He huffed a sigh. “Well, your life is delicate, my dear. It takes much to preserve it. And I'm not sure involvement with a swordsman would match with that.”
Claudine bristled. Was he suggesting that she was looking for partners by watching the fighting? She colored at the thought that she had been doing just that. “No, Uncle,” she murmured softly.
“Exactly, my dear. I sometimes wonder if it would tax your health too much to marry at all.”
Claudine's brow shot up. Why was he saying this now? What had he discovered?”
Bernadette beside her went tense. “I think I trust the words of Father Jeremy in that respect,” she said quietly. “He made no such predictions.”
Claudine saw her uncle's eyes widen and then narrow. Was it her imagination or did he wish her not to believe the old physician?
“Your maid, it seems, interrupts us,” he said thinly.
Claudine stared at him as if he'd slapped her. “Uncle, I'm sure Bernadette didn't mean...”
“No matter,” he said, smiling gently. He was suddenly the sweet, protective uncle she had always known. “I should hurry along. I have an audience to attend at four of the clock. Enjoy the sunshine, Claudine.”
Claudine swallowed. She suddenly felt very disloyal for her stab of resentment toward her uncle. What was she thinking? He cared for her when no one else did.
“Thank you, Uncle,” she said.
He smiled fondly and carried on down the hallway.
When he had gone, Claudine and Bernadette looked at each other.
“Well. I didn't like that talk much,” Bernadette said. Her gentle face wore a puzzled frown, mouth turned down in worry.
Claudine shook her head. “Oh, Bernadette. Uncle meant no harm by what he said. He cares for me.”
“Be that as it may,” Bernadette said ominously.
Claudine looked out over the edge of the terrace, looking down into the courtyard where, only a few days prior, Francis was. She felt wistful and sad, but at the same time she felt a gentle pleasure in the memory.
I so enjoyed watching him. The way he moved so gracefully, almost like a dancer, but savage. With that fast strike and lively motion and those big shoulders rippling under his tight linen tunic.
She felt herself blush as she thought that. What had possessed her lately? She couldn't help noticing things about him: the strong muscles of his back, his well-developed calves, the way he tensed and flexed when he made his strikes with the sword. Those long arms, supple and heavy with muscle. That narrow waist.
What am I thinking? Why is my poor body tingling all over at these thoughts?
It was the strangest thing. Claudine frowned.
“Thinking about something?” Bernadette asked gently.
Claudine smiled. “Oh, nothing, Bernadette.” Then she paused. “Well, actually...”
“Mm?” Bernadette frowned. “What is it, milady?”
Claudine saw Bernadette's brown eyes instantly focus; always tender and mindful of her. She smiled.
“Well, I feel a bit silly asking you this, but...” she trailed off, cheeks burning.
“No, milady,” Bernadette protested gently. “No need to feel silly to ask me. Tell me anything.”
Claudine felt bolder and licked her lips, framing the question that had been on her mind for the last days.
“What is...what does it mean, when men and women wed? I understand the spiritual aspect, at least as much as anyone does. But the physical implications...” she blushed, throat closing with extreme embarrassment.
Bernadette raised a brow. Then she smiled. “Well! I'm right glad you asked that, milady. It's all well and good to take an interest in such things. It means you're healthy.”
Claudine felt her cheeks flame, but she smiled. “Oh, Bernadette! Really!” she chided her, face hot with embarrassment.
Bernadette nodded firmly. “I mean it, milady. All young people wish to know these things. There's no shame in it. When it's between two as wish it, I believe it's a glorious thing.”
Claudine felt her heart thump faster. It was such a shocking thing to discuss! Her father, she was sure, would never approve. Nor Lady Cornelia – named her guardian when she was born. They would all frown on this conversation.
“Really?” she asked softly.
Bernadette nodded. “Indeed, milady. A fine thing. A healthy thing. What I know of it is garnered second-hand, of course...” she looked down at her hands, the first show of shyness she'd made all afternoon so far. “But I am told by my acquaintances that it is worthy of all the minstrels' singing.”
Claudine smiled. She let her heart expand with the pleasurable thought of that. The minstrels didn't say much about it, other than that such an experience was glorious and not exceeded by anything else in life. It sounded good.
And to do such things with Francis...
She blushed. Her body pulsed with longing. Her heart skipped. She didn't know what these things were, but somehow her body knew. She felt the longing in the strangest parts of her and she colored with wonderment thinking of that.
“Well, milady,” Bernadette sighed. “I suppose we can't know much about it until we're wed.” She sounded wistful about it.
Claudine nodded, wanting to laugh at her friend's longing. Then she felt sad. “Bernadette?”
“Yes, my dear?”
She licked her lips nervously. “Uncle thinks I can't marry, does he not? That I can't...do the acts that make a child, or bear one.” She looked at her hands, voice trembling. She felt quite bold, quite shocked, at having to ask such a thing. However, she had to know.
Bernadette frowned. “It's nonsense,” she assured her. “Absolutely nonsense. I have it on good authority from your physician that you would be capable of such a thing. Truly.”
“Really?” Claudine felt her heart lift with hope. “Did he say that?” She stared at Bernadette, eyes wide.
Bernadette nodded. “Yes, he did. He said you were frail but strong. And he saw no reason why you should not one day bear a child of your own. You would have to be more careful, of course...regard your health more closely than other women of your age might find necessary. But you would realize that.”
Claudine stared at her friend. Her heart was thumping. Her uncle's dire predictions and threats – for that was what they seemed to her, threats – relaxed their hold on her heart somewhat.
“You have no need to doubt yourself,” Bernadette continued gently. “You're a bright, beautiful young lady with so many capabilities. Don't let anyone say different.”
Claudine felt her heart fill with appreciation for her friend. Impulsively, she reached across to her. Their hands clasped firmly.
“Oh, Bernadette,” she sighed. “I'm so grateful for you.”
Bernadette gripped her hand firmly in return.
“As I am for you,” she said. “You're the only person I can talk to as we do. I'm blessed to have been taken into your household.”
Claudine felt a little indignant. “You're my friend, Bernadette. My best friend. Don't think of yourself as anything less.”
Bernadette smiled. “Thank you, milady. I think I should watch myself around your uncle, mind. Whatever he thinks, he doesn't share your fond views.”
Claudine blew her cheeks out in a sigh. “You're right, I think,” she said. She frowned. “I'm sure he would do nothing to change us. You're my companion and I'll not brook any alterations of that fact.”
Bernadette smiled fondly. “Thank you, milady.”
They sat out in the sun contentedly a while. Claudine felt more at peace than she had earlier – with Bernadette's gentle but firm assurance that she could expect similar things in her future to any other woman, she felt hopeful.
Maybe Francis and I could be wed one day. It is not impossible. As the daughter of a duke, I am above him, but why should there not be some exception made?
She smiled. Stretching languidly, she turned to Bernadette.
“All this sunshine's making me sleepy. Shall we go indoors?”
Bernadette nodded. “Me too. Yes. We should retire – it is likely time for a drink of cordial and a rest. What say you, milady?”
Claudine nodded. “I say yes to that, Bernadette.”
Her companion smiled and stood and Claudine joined her. They went to her chambers.
In the room, Claudine sat down on the bed. They followed the same routine most days. Bernadette would pour a goblet of berry cordial for each of them and they would sit and talk about peaceable, pleasant things. Then Claudine would take a nap until an hour before dinner. It was a pleasant time. It was also the best way to take the powder the physician had given to her to take – it was ground up and dissolved in her cordial. That made it tasteless and easy to take.
“Right, milady,” Bernadette said, passing her the silver drinking cup and sitting down facing her, smilingly. “I don't know about you, but that sunshine restored me greatly.”
“Me too,” Claudine agreed contentedly. It was true, now that she thought about it. She felt better than she had for weeks.
“Yes, it is,” Claudine agreed. She took a big sip, tasting it appreciatively. It had a rich, complex taste – the sweetness of the berries offset by a wild, forest taste; slightly musky and very appealing. “Uncle had it brought specially from the estate. I'm glad.”
“Mm. Me too,” Bernadette agreed.
As she finished the cordial, Claudine felt her head start to thump. Her heart skipped a beat and the horribly weak, lethargic feeling washed through her. She managed to pass the goblet to Bernadette just before she collapsed, moaning, back onto the bed.
“Oh, my lady,” Bernadette said, replacing the goblet on the tray. “Rest. Let me cover you with something...best if you stay warm.”
“I'm fine,” Claudine murmured hazily.
Then the world went dark and she collapsed, as she often did, into a deep, exhausted sleep.