‘My orders are that matters remain as they are,’ retorted the King.
Bourbon’s face expressed his concern. Marie’s heart had begun to beat fast with apprehension, for the King had included her in his cold looks.
‘Your . . . Your Majesty is displeased . . . and with me?’ murmured Bourbon, unable to prevent himself from learning the worst.
‘I am,’ retorted the King.
‘Your . . . Your Majesty continues to have the greatest confidence in Monsieur de Fleury?’
‘That is so.’
The Duc was now apprehensive.
‘Sire,’ he said, ‘I would give my life to serve you. If I have done aught that is wrong I crave your pardon.’
Louis hated scenes. They distressed him. He rarely reprimanded anybody; if reprimand there had to be, he arranged that others should give it. He was annoyed that the Queen should have placed him in such a position. But rather than display his irritation with them both he walked quickly towards the door.
Marie, trembling with fear, put out a hand to touch his arm as he passed her. He pretended not to see it.
Fleury had friends at Court. There were some shrewd people who realised the affection and respect which this man had aroused in his pupil. The Duc de Bourbon and his flamboyant mistress could not, it was believed, reign supreme for ever; their reign could only last while the King was too young, too inexperienced to recognise their worthlessness.
Therefore, when Bourbon visited the Queen, and the Queen asked the King to join them, this was immediately made known to Fleury who, knowing the existence of the Polignac letter and guessing Bourbon’s project, made haste to the Queen’s apartment and demanded of her attendants to be taken to her presence.
‘Monsieur de Fleury,’ was the answer, ‘the King is with the Queen, and Monsieur le Duc is with them. Orders have been given that no one – not even yourself – is to be admitted.’
This was an insult which could not be tolerated. If the King had given such orders it was significant that Fleury would never achieve his ambition and become chief minister of France. If on the other hand – which was more likely – this was the result of one of Bourbon’s schemes to undermine the King’s friendship for his tutor behind the latter’s back, then prompt action was necessary.
Fleury, showing greater astuteness than Bourbon, reckoned that if Bourbon won, he, Fleury, would be sent from Court; therefore he could lose nothing and retain his dignity if he left of his own accord.
If on the other hand the King refused to listen to Bourbon’s slander, he would be more infuriated than ever with the Duke should Fleury go away.
So Fleury went hastily to his apartments and wrote a letter to the King in which he said that as he was locked out of His Majesty’s counsels, there appeared to be no further need for his services. He would therefore retire from Court in order to live in peace with the Sulpicians of Issy. He was leaving immediately to avoid the pain of farewell.
When this letter was brought to Louis he was dumbfounded. Fleury gone! But how could he conduct his affairs without Fleury? In all matters of importance he had relied upon the tutor.
He was alarmed. He shut himself into his apartments and wept bitterly. He raged against the Duc de Bourbon and his scheming mistress against the Queen whose folly had made this possible.
This was the first time he had felt critical towards Marie. Angrily he blamed her now. But for her foolish action in ignoring Court Etiquette, he would not have been lured into this controversy with which he did not know how to deal. He was sixteen years old, lacking in the experience which was so necessary in a situation such as this, and he feared Marie had not only allowed Bourbon to use her in his intrigues but had involved him also.
‘Stupid woman!’ he murmured; and he marvelled that he could see her as such – Marie, his Queen who, but a short while ago, had seemed perfect in his eyes.
The King could not remain locked in his apartments for long. He must make up his mind how to act and, because he was uncertain, he sent for a man whom he had come to trust; this was Monsieur de Mortemart who was First Gentleman of the bedchamber.
Louis commanded Monsieur de Mortemart to shut the door and send all attendants away as he wished to speak to him concerning a private matter.
He explained his predicament. ‘The Queen is involved,’ he said. ‘Monsieur le Duc is First Minister. Monsieur de Fleury is merely my tutor.’
‘But, Sire,’ cried Mortemart, ‘it would seem unimportant that Monsieur le Duc is First Minister and Monsieur de Fleury merely your tutor. You are the King.’
Mortemart was one of those astute courtiers who recognised the superior powers of Fleury, and was therefore ready to back the tutor against the First Minister.
‘Were you in my place, what would you do?’ asked Louis.
‘I should order Monsieur de Fleury to return at once. I should . . . I think I should, Sire, command Monsieur le Duc to write to him asking him to return.’
Louis smiled slowly. ‘And I think,’ he said, ‘that I like your advice.’
Marie was frightened. Fleury was now back at Court, and the King outwardly showed his affection for the old man while the coldness of his manner towards the Duc and his mistress was apparent.
That was not all. The King’s attitude had changed towards Marie. Often she would find him looking at her critically, as though he were discovering certain facts about her which he had not noticed before.
Marie knew that she was not beautiful; she had always understood that she was somewhat plain, before Louis had assured her to the contrary.
He still spent his nights with her, leaving the state bedroom after the ceremonial coucher, his valet de chambre carrying his sword and setting it beside the bed before he helped Louis discard dressing gown and slippers. But a change had crept into their lovemaking. Louis was still overwhelmed by the act of love; yet it was as though he had made a further discovery. It was the act itself which appealed to him; his excitement had little to do with the woman who shared in it. It was his youth, his inexperience, his sudden awakening to manhood which had deluded him.
A coldness had crept into his passion. It terrified the Queen.
Fleury would not be satisfied until he had rid the Court of his enemies. He did not wish to include the Queen among these for naturally he could not rid the Court of her. He thought her a foolish woman to cling so stupidly to the Duc de Bourbon’s faction when any sensible person would have known that it was in decline.
It was not that they had any affection for her. They were using her now as they had used her from the beginning; and she, poor fool, seemed unable to see it.
There was no need, Fleury decided, to try to ingratiate himself with the Queen. At one time he had thought she might be an influence at the Court; now it was clear that she never would be. Louis was turning from her; very shortly there would be a mistress. Fleury hoped there would not be one only. A necessary evil, he decided, but less dangerous in the plural than in the singular.
He was exerting all his efforts to oust Bourbon from Court. The time had come for him to take the helm, now that he had proof that the King was loyal to him. The sooner Bourbon, Pâris-Duverney and Madame de Prie were relegated to obscurity the better.
Marie asked the advice of the old Maréchal Villars whom she believed she could trust.
‘The king once loved me,’ she said, her voice breaking in a sob. ‘I fear he no longer does.’
The old Maréchal looked at her sadly. ‘It is clear, Madame,’ he said, ‘that the King’s feelings towards you have changed. You should not appear sullen because of this, but remember that there are many watchful women of the Court who are looking for an opportunity which could well arise out of such a situation.’