Page 12 of The Favourite

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The door was flung open and Alisander heard the Queen’s voice sailing through long before her footsteps.

“You had no right to make such a promise, Jane! How can you take the child? It must go to a foster family. This is absurd!”

Alisander’s ears pricked up, but he could not make out Jane’s subdued reply. Again, the Queen’s plaintive tones. “She surely meant for you to take an interest as its aunt. A kindly, benevolent, yet removed interest,” the Queen insisted. Then, in a more conciliatory tone. “Only consider Jane …”

He could not make out the words, but their intonation was cajoling. Jane’s voice again. Her words were not distinct, but he could hear the note of stubbornness, loud and clear.

“This is intolerable!” the Queen burst forth and footsteps heralded the arrival of three pairs of feet into the Queen’s Privy Chamber. “It is an insult to me! Can you not see that, Jane?”

“I can,” Jane sobbed. “I do and I can only beg that you show me clemency, my Queen.”

Armenal let out an explosive noise of disagreement. “If you do this thing,” she said warningly, “if you commit to this cause, you will have to leave court. To live in seclusion with no company to speak of, just a handful of stupid yokel servants. No one will see you.” Her words were brittle and cold. “You will have no society, no intelligent conversation. You will be all alone, with naught but a mewling babe for company.”

“I cannot break my word.” Jane was openly weeping now.

“I gave you too much credit it seems,” the Queen concluded dispassionately. “I thought you were more sensible than this. I thought you were like me. One who does not allow emotion to rule you.”

Bardulf swung his legs over the side of the window seat and swept the curtain aside. He affected to yawn and stretch. Three surprised faces turned in his direction. “Dear me,” he murmured, letting his eyes travel over the tableau they presented. Jane had sunk to the floor and looked a pitiable sight in her position as supplicant. After a moment, his eye dismissed the Queen and Mistress Bartree altogether.

To his surprise, he found he was not repulsed one bit by this glimpse of Jane’s heightened emotion. Her trembling mouth looked swollen and kissable. He rather liked how abandoned she was to grief. Would she be abandoned in other places? he found himself wondering. Like his bed.

When the Queen spoke, he had to tear his gaze away from Jane’s kneeling figure. “We had no idea you were there, Bardulf.” She was clearly displeased.

Alisander shrugged and stifled another yawn. “As you see, Your Majesty.”

“Shall I show the viscount out, Your Highness?” the Bartree fright suggested. Alisander inspected his nails but did not fail to see the speculative gleam in the Queen’s eye. She knew full well how much Jane would dislike him seeing her in such a state.

“We are all old friends here,” the Queen answered after a heartbeat, “and need not stand on ceremony. Magnetrude,” she said warmly, “perhaps you could have refreshment sent for?”

“Certainly, my Queen.” The older lady-in-waiting hurried away, leaving the three of them listening to her hasty footsteps fading into the corridor outside.

“Tell me, have you heard the misfortune that has befallen the Cecil family?” the Queen asked without more ado. “Answering truthfully will spare Jane the necessity of hearing me tell the dismal tale.”

“I have,” Alisander admitted lightly.

The Queen gave a hollow laugh. “Of course, you have,” she muttered. “Jane, you will do me the courtesy of rising now from your heap.”

Jane rose unsteadily to her feet and Alisander could not help but shoot out a hand to catch her elbow when she stumbled. Seeing the Queen’s eyes narrow with displeasure, he retracted it as soon as she was steadied.

“You are clumsy today Jane and most unlike yourself,” the Queen said with an edge to her voice.

Jane made no answer, just looked tired and resigned. Alisander did not think she even cared by this point that he was witnessing her at her lowest ebb. She had not flinched at his touch, and had barely seemed to register it. This would never do.

“If you ask my opinion,” he drawled, “there is no need for all these theatrics.” He turned to the Queen. “You must simply find her a husband who will not keep her from court.”

The Queen uttered a short laugh. “Does such a husband exist? Not in my experience,” she added bitterly.

“Is it such an impossible task?” He allowed a note of faint incredulity to enter his voice.

“You know nothing of such matters, my dear Bardulf. Only consider, I scarcely see my dearest Eden nowadays. The King’s Champion, that boorish Sir Roland keeps her buried in darkest Vawdreyshire, producing his heirs.”

“No one would ever claim the Vawdreys made reasonable husbands,” he pointed out.

“Given a choice, I would not have picked one for her,” Armenal admitted discontentedly. “The matter was taken entirely out of my hands.”

“That is too bad, but Lady Jane has not committed herself so rashly. She will put herself wholly in your hands, I am sure.” Armenal shrugged pettishly. “I suggest you choose for her more wisely than your previous favorite did for herself.” They both turned to look at Jane’s unhappy face.