Tampered Beauty

Reconstruction

For the next few days, Mary avoided Francis like the plague, conflicted beyond belief. What they did on the night of the ball couldn't be perceived as wrong, both were man and wife, after all. It wasn't adultery, nor was it betrayal or treason. But, it did seem wrong, in Mary's mind. The physical action was simply too quick in their relationship, they had only just began to even think of repairing their relationship. At this point, it was still far too soon to even think of giving their bodies to each other, the first time in over three years.

In the early days of the abandonment, when Mary had only just began to suspect that Francis had left more than one person behind, she had imagined what it would be like to be with him again when he returned. After all, it had only been a few days since he left, maybe a week or two, and the young Queen was still that idealistic, naive little thing, no matter how much she had darkened over the last year at French Court. She believed Francis was alive, wouldn't be too far behind Louis of Conde, who had just came to court.

But, now that it was done, it felt wrong. Although it wasn't cheating or adultery, it still felt like it. Her skin crawled with sin, an invisible thick, vulgar oil rolling around her soft porcelain casing. Mary had always thought that the first time after he -would ever?, at points- returned was supposed to be a special, sensual and beautiful night, not a drunken night of not thinking and only feeling. The physical act meant nothing now, the only thing it achieved was temporarily relief and a great deal of confusion and confliction now that it was done. Stupid, stupid girl. 

"Mary," a voice said. Turning and halting her pacing, she saw Kenna walk towards her. The pretty Baroness wore a gold lace and white gown, the same one she wore whilst they left for Scotland after the impromptu Coronation in France. 

"Kenna, what is it?" she asked, taking the piece of folded parchment from her Lady's hand.

"It's from Francis," Kenna clarified, picking a piece of loose thread from Mary's cream gown with purple lace and an overlay of purple and black organza. 

"He says he wishes to see me. After the privy council dinner later tonight."

"Why do you think that is?" Kenna asked, brushing her fingers over Mary's bare forearms, threading their fingers together.

"He's trying, Kenna. I know that. He wants us to go back to how we were. I just don't know if I'm ready." Mary sighed.

"You still resent him?"

"I do. He knows that. I just think I've given him false hope, instead of a true insight into how I'm feeling." Mary sighed.

"And how are you feeling?" Kenna asked. "After what happened on the night of the ball." she asked. Mary had called for an early morning tea after waking up in bed with Francis, immediately telling Kenna and Greer what had happened.

"You and Francis? I-I. Wow." Greer said, surprised. Her eyes were closed, eyebrows high.

"I know, I'm so stupid." Mary breathed.

"I just don't understand." Kenna finally said. "Two days ago you were irritated at the mere prospect of him coming to Scotland. I told you what Bash said in his letter, you were angry. But, he comes back for less than a day and the two of you-" Kenna trailed off.

"Yes, yes. I was drunk, I wasn't thinking. I'm such a fool." Mary groaned.

"I don't know," Mary sighed. "Conflicted, I suppose. It was amazing, being held and embraced in a way I haven't been in around eight months. Even with Henry, it was never the same as how it was before Francis left. Being physically loved, adored almost worshipped, it's changed my mentally. I'm still furious and resentful, but last night and his appearance yesterday, it's reminded me of how married life can be, and I miss it. More than I thought I would. More than I realised. It was never like this with Darnley. It started to be, yes, but it never got there before Francis returned. You remember how it was before and immediately after our marriage." Kenna nodded sympathetically. "Part of me still hates him, part of me wishes him to be burned at the stake. But, another is different. The other wants to forgive him and jump into his arms, to accept what he did and move on, to be a disgustingly happy family with James. The other part still loves him and would do anything to make it work, to give James a proper, legitimate family and childhood. I just," Mary sighed. "Oh, I don't know. I want to make it work, I don't want to live like Catherine did, nor do I want to end up repeating Henry and Catherine's mistakes, nor their lives. I want to forgive him. But, I don't know how to forgive him."