Morning Glory-Francis (Reign)

Chapter Ninety-Seven

My days fell into a bit of a pattern. Sleeping in, spending time with Mary-sometimes we went riding, or watched a joust, or simply ate lunch together-annoying the Scottish nobles with my ideas, that Mary happily listened to, occasionally playing a hand of cards, and going to sleep early.

Lord Darnley had arrived a few days prior. I thought him power hungry and slightly dim, but Mary seemed to approve of him. He would make a passable husband. Queen Elizabeth had sent an envoy to Scotland as well, warning Mary that she would see her marriage to Lord Darnley as an act of aggression. I warned her that she could not roll over and let England make her choices for her; they would back her into a corner and then seize her crown from her head, and her head from her shoulders.

I was pleased with my schedule; even though I slept plenty, I was unable to shake the sick feeling in my stomach. In fact it only grew worse, and became extra prevalent one morning when I woke up only to retch over the side of my bed.

The servants who had been assigned to wait on me during my stay were quick to clean it up, place a cool cloth over my forehead, and call for the court physician, despite me insistence that I was fine. I dozed as I was poked and prodded. When the physician left to do some test of some sort in his study, Mary came to visit me.

"Anya, I heard you were ill. Are you alright?" She sat down on the side of my bed. The physician had demanded that I stay tucked in until he came up with a definitive diagnosis.

"I am fine, Mary. I promise. Your physician is just being a little overzealous with his treatments." In fact, since I threw up my dinner from the night before, I felt much better. Still weak, but better.

"I can't have the Tsaritsa falling ill on my watch." Mary smiled at me before turning to a servant who was standing at the door. "Would you please fetch the Tsaritsa a bowl of warm soup?"

"Of course, Your Majesties," With a quick curtsy she was out the door.

"Now that we're alone, are you sure you're alright." Mary asked seriously. "Do you think it might have something to do with the wound on your side or..."

"Mary, I promise I'm fine. Just under the weather." I patted her hand reassuringly. The cut on my abdomen had healed months ago, and was now just an ugly scar on my stomach.

"As long as you're sure. Do you think-?" This time her question was interrupted by the physician reentering the room. Both of us looked up at his arrival.

"I apologize for interrupting, Your Majesties, but I felt that the Tsaritsa would be interested in learning the cause of her illness." I sat up straighter in bed.

Noticing his sideways glance at Mary, I nodded for him to continue. "Queen Mary is welcome to stay."

"Alright then," the physician wiped his thumb over his nose, "Your Majesty, you are carrying a child."

The room was silent. Mary was the first to jump up in excitement.

"Oh Anya! That's wonderful news!" She laughed, happily. A smile ghosted over my lips as my hands drifted down to my stomach.

"If I may, Your Majesty, I recommend you return to France, or to Russia as soon as possible. The closer to birth you get, the more difficult it will be to travel. It can be expected that your child will be born in about six months." Without another word, the physician bowed and left.

Once the door closed behind him, Mary launched herself towards me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

"Anya, aren't you excited?" She asked, glancing down at my belly which was still flat-no signs of a baby yet.

"I'm over the moon." I said quietly, my grin spreading wider across my face. The two of us sat in silence for a moment. My mind wandered to how excited Francis would be when he heard the news. Suddenly, Mary gasped.

"We have to get you home!" She exclaimed. "You need to tell Francis! And prepare everything for when the baby is born!" She jumped up and raced towards the door, nearly crashing into the servant who was bringing back the bowl of soup.

"I will have a carriage prepared for you and arrange a ship to meet you at the docks tonight!" Mary shouted over her shoulder, as she disappeared down the hallway.

"Please Mary, some inconspicuity." I called after her.

The servant gently set the bowl of soup on the table next to me, and bowed before returning to her seat on the other side of the room. The warm aroma was pleasant, and I was hungry, given I had lost my dinner from the night before. I rolled closer to the edge of the bed, and lifted a spoonful of the broth to my lips.

It was rich and warmed my gut nicely. I drank about half the bowl, before setting aside the spoon, and leaning back into the pillows to sleep some more. At some point, several more servants quietly slipped into the room and began packing my trunk to return to France.
"Anya, wake up." Greer gently shook my shoulders, drawing me back from sleep. "Mary has arranged a carriage for you. It is waiting in the courtyard." She helped me sit up, and slipped a comfortable, warm, travel dress over my shoulders and quickly laced it up.

It seemed Mary hadn't told her the reason for my departure, and had let her (and presumably everyone else) it was due to an unspecified illness. The servants had already cleared out my belongings, and Greer guided me towards the courtyard.

True to her word, a carriage was waiting, and to my surprise, James was astride a horse at the front of the caravan.

"I will be leading your escort back to Fontainebleau." He answered my unspoken question. "I know Mary hopes that while I am in France, I will pick up a wife." He added somewhat exasperated. I nodded, acknowledging his words, as Greer piled a blanket over my lap in the carriage.