War of Hearts || Reign || REWRITE

Chapter 4

May 7th 1562, Château de Louvre, Paris

The next morning, I allowed my maids to dress me. I had chosen a deep burgundy gown of heavy velvet, lined with golden-yellow silk that showed at the neckline and sleeves. The bodice was fitted with a modest square cut, while the long sleeves narrowed at the wrists, ending in delicate embroidery worked with tiny seed pearls. The skirt fell in graceful folds to the floor, cinched neatly at the waist by a slender golden girdle.

My dark hair was drawn back into a smooth, braided bun at the nape of my neck, covered partly by a fine golden hairnet threaded with pearls. A pair of pearl drop earrings framed my face, and around my neck lay a fine gold chain holding a small locket. A single ring with a garnet on my right hand gave the final note of quiet refinement.
Once dressed, I made my way to Mary's chambers. Her four ladies were already gathered outside, clad in dark blue gowns in the English style. On their heads sat French hoods of the same shade of blue.

God, were these Scottish women truly so far removed from the fashions of France? I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing at the thought.

"Is the queen in her bedchamber?" I asked the nearest lady.
She nodded curtly. "The queen is being dressed." Then, with a sharp tone, she added: "And she does not wish to be disturbed."

I ignored her and knocked on the door. "Good morning, Your Majesty. It is Bianca. May I come in?"

For a moment there was no reply, and heat rushed to my cheeks—I feared I had embarrassed myself before everyone. But then the door opened, and I stepped inside with a small smile of relief.

Mary sat before her mirror, already dressed in a gown of deep emerald velvet. A string of pearls adorned her neck, and jeweled rings glittered on her fingers. Behind her, a maid brushed out her dark hair, and on the table beside them lay a French hood, waiting to be placed upon her head.

Through the mirror, Mary smiled at me. "Good morning, Bianca."

I dipped into a reverence. She let her gaze drift over me, slowly from head to toe. "You look lovely," she said warmly.

"Thank you, Majesty. As do you," I replied, then hesitated before adding, "though may I offer a suggestion?"

Her brows rose, but she inclined her head. "Go on."

"French hoods are no longer the fashion among women of our age. I would recommend something more current."

Mary turned slightly, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "And what would you suggest instead?"

I smiled faintly. "Your hair is long and fine. If it were half-pinned, with loose curls falling over your shoulders, it would seem softer and more in keeping with French taste. A simple circlet or a strand of pearls would suit you far better than that hood."

Mary's fingers toyed with the pearls at her throat as she considered my words. Then she gave a small, uncertain laugh. "Last night at dinner, I noticed so many women dressed in such different ways. Some wore their hair high, others loose, some with caps, some without. I am not used to so much variety. At my grandmothers court, everyone looked the same. Here, I hardly know what is expected of me."

Her words reminded me of the evening before, when the court had gathered to dine in the great hall. King Henri and King Philip had sat side by side at the royal table. Catherine sat at Henri's right, with Mary next to her and Francis at Mary's side. Elisabeth had been placed beside her future husband, King Philip.

Though I had not been seated at their table, I had watched them closely. Elisabeth and her betrothed had exchanged polite words now and then. Francis, too, had answered Mary's questions with courtesy, though never with enthusiasm. Mary, however, had glowed beside him, her face alight whenever he spoke.