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Authors: Donna Russo Morin

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical

BOOK: To Serve a King
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D
ISCUSSION
Q
UESTIONS

 
  1. The novel’s opening chapter quickly sets a distinctive tone. What is it and what does it reveal about the lives of the main characters? Does it expose the relationship that will form between Geneviève and the two kings? What does it disclose about the political condition of the era?
  2. Discuss the dichotomy of the relationship between François I and Henry VIII. How did it affect their dealings with each other throughout their lives and at their deaths? How did it affect their personal, political, and religious decisions? What are the similarities and differences between the two sovereigns themselves, and how does this ultimately affect Gene-viève?
  3. In the monastery, Geneviève must face a confessor, even though “She had not practiced the sacrament of confession often in her childhood; perhaps her aunt had known it for the hypocrisy it was in a life meant for such iniquities. Geneviève had found neither succor nor blessing in the act.” What are the iniquities of her life? Why does she feel that God may forgive her “for just cause”?
  4. Rumors and opinions about Diane de Poitiers, La Grande Sénéchale, abound. Discuss those mentioned in this book. How does the image of the woman portrayed in
    To Serve a King
    compare to those offered in other works?
  5. Discuss the irony of Sebastien’s position as a Garde Écos-saise
    .
    In what ways does his position affect his relationship with Geneviève?
  6. Why does Geneviève feel that her budding relationships with Sebastien and Arabelle are the same? What underlying emotion and motivation underscores all of her associations at court? Which associations change, and why?
  7. Discuss the similarities and the disparities of the circumstances between the queen, Eleanor of Hapsburg, and the Dauphine, Catherine de’ Medici. How are their reactions to these circumstances alike and different?
  8. Geneviève is plagued by many demons and divergent emotions. Discuss them, their source and motivation. Do they change as her time at the French court continues? In what ways? What ultimately affects her? Who, or what, is her true enemy?
  9. Discuss the reasons for King François’s longing to possess the territory of Milan. To what lengths is he willing to go to obtain it? Why does he seek out the assistance of Queen Eleanor and how does it affect the duchesse d’Étampes?
  10. Though she had spent many weeks and months with the king of France, Geneviève feels, as they travel to Fontaine-bleau, that she does not recognize him. “It was the same long, horselike face, the same slanted eyes, long nose and wide mouth, and yet she did not know him.” Why does she feel this way, and what happened to her that may have caused these feelings?
  11. Discuss the royal obsession with mystics, fortune-tellers, and soothsayers through the ages. What is it about the lives of nobles that would cause them to give credence to predictions and prophesies? How does this predilection relate to the teaching of Machiavelli? Who was the mysterious Michel de Nostredame? Why did Geneviève fear Madame Arceneau and her threat, though she professed no belief in her gift?
  12. What does Geneviève mean when, in chapter twenty, she silently pleads with King François, “
    Please stop
    .
    Do not take me into your confidence, do not take me into your heart, for my own cannot bear it.”
    Why does the king reveal his innermost feelings to her?
  13. What went wrong with Geneviève’s plan to use Lisette’s lover as a subterfuge to her own covert actions? Were her efforts a success, and if so, at what cost? Why was François unable to save Lisette?
  14. Discuss the meaning of Madame de Hainaut’s suicide note. What did Geneviève infer about King Henry from his reaction to the event? How did it change the path of Geneviève’s life?
  15. At the last moment, Geneviève changes the course of her life, refusing to complete the ultimate act. Discuss the reasons for her altered behavior. Is the most apparent reason the true reason? How does this relate to decisions made by most people throughout their lives?

 

 

If you missed Donna Russo Morin’s previous two novels,
treat yourself to more of her delicious and
distinctive brand of historical fiction.
One story is set in the glittering and dangerous court
of Louis XIV’s Versailles, the other in the fascinating world
of the famous Murano glassmakers. Read on for a little taste of …

THE COURTIER’S SECRET

and

THE SECRET OF THE GLASS

Kensington Trade Paperbacks on sale at your favorite bookstore.

From
The Courtier’s Secret

S
he stood before the cloudy mirror wondering if the distorted reflection she saw in it was her own or if it had magically captured the image of another, one of the perfectly mannered, perfectly obsequious courtiers clogging every inch of Versailles. The sage-green silk bodice hugged her tightly, fitting to the exact form of the binding corset beneath it. Satin ribbon trimmed the low-cut bodice, elbow-length sleeves and hem and created bows embellishing the full skirt and slight train. The large felt hat in the same sage green boasted one fluffy white ostrich feather.

Jeanne peered more closely at her face; her eyes looked darker, deeper, and her skin glowed with tawny effervescence.

“Hmph,” she grunted to the woman staring at her, acknowledging that her mother did know how to dress to bring about the best in one’s appearance.

Jeanne, neither familiar nor comfortable in such elegance, had promised her mother a few hours ago that she would try harder, and she would. With a determined flick of her chin, and a giggle as the aigrette wiggled high above her head, she left the unfamiliar reflection behind.

*  *  *

Exiting through one of the many doors of the lower gallery into the back courtyard of Versailles, Jeanne hid her face in the large shadow cast by the brim of her millinery. The sun blazed white, and her eyes squinted in defense. Through narrowed lids, a colorful mosaic appeared before her—red, blue, green, yellow: every color of the spectrum blurred in her vision. Slowly her pupils adjusted to the light and her full, wide mouth turned up in a bow.

Courtiers. Like petals fluttering around the pistil, these creatures, prodigiously garbed in every color of the rainbow, blazed brightly in silk, satin, and brocade. Women with piled-high hair adorned with all manner of hat and lace, and men with their long, flowing curls blowing in the breeze and topped with plumed hats, vied for prominence.

Jeanne inhaled deeply, nostrils quivering in delight at the freshness of both air and water. She took her first step toward the entourage as they assembled between the two grand pools of the Water Parterre, the first section of the immense gardens spanning over two hundred and fifty acres. Her heart beat wildly, and she felt moisture forming under the layers of clothing she wore. This was her first social outing since her return, her first time among the gossiping courtiers, and she anticipated a cold reception.


Ma chère, ma chère
Jeanne!” A high-pitched call reached her ears. Jeanne turned, and her heart burst with joy.

Pushing and shoving, two young women struggled out of the cluster of courtiers, rushing toward her, arms and smiles wide and welcoming. Jeanne became enveloped in silk and satin, pressed between two strong bodies, perfume, soap, and musky female scents engulfing her.

“We heard you were back.”

“Why have you not come to us sooner?”

Jeanne laughed, putting one arm around each of the women, relishing the acceptance she felt in their embrace and heard in their words.


Pardieu!
I am sorry,” Jeanne giggled. “But I am here now. Come, let me look at you.”

Jeanne released her friends and stepped back. Powdered and beauty-marked, Olympe de Cinq-Mars, daughter of the Marquis de Solignac, stood afire in brilliant red silk. Her jet-black hair and eyes burned with intensity. Paling in visual impact, Lynette La Marechal, daughter of the Duc du Vermorel, shimmered sweetly in yellow brocade, long blond curls pulled back softly to reveal her delicate skin and pale blue eyes.

“How I have missed you both,” Jeanne almost sobbed as the emotional reunion with her two dearest friends overwhelmed her. Heedless of prying eyes, she kissed each one tenderly on the lips. Here in their arms, she found consolation in returning to Versailles.

“How do I find you,
mes amies?
What is about?” Jeanne asked, taking each woman by the hand.

“I will marry soon.” Olympe was the first to answer, no surprise to Jeanne. “My father is in negotiations with quite a few hopefuls. Papa says many vie for my hand, but he will not concede to just anyone.
Maman
says every courtier in the country will attend my wedding. Well, the ones who matter, at least.”

“How wonderful for you,
ma chère
.” Jeanne smiled at Olympe, seeing how little her friend had changed. Even as a young girl, Olympe’s thoughts and dreams had dwelled on court intrigue, fashion, and to one day making the perfect match.

“And you,
ma petite.
” Jeanne turned to Lynette, swinging the hands of her friends as they headed slowly toward the bevy of courtiers. “Is there a handsome young cavalier waiting for you?”

Lynette hid behind lowered lids, a pink flush spreading across her pale skin.


Non, chère
Jeanne, it is not a conventional marriage which I seek. My papa has petitioned the King to allow me to enter the Convent de La Bas Poitou.”

Jeanne stopped, arms pulling ahead of her body as her friends took another step or two.

“Truly?” Jeanne asked Lynette.

Unlike Jeanne, Lynette had completed her education at the abbey near Toulouse. Her letters had always been a window into the depth of her piety.

“It is what I desire above all else,” Lynette assured her, chin jutting out.

Jeanne smiled at her friend’s conviction.

“When will you know?”

“Soon, I hope.”

Jeanne hugged her, face close to her friend’s comely countenance.

“Do you feel well? Have you been ill?” Jeanne blurted her thoughts out, one of her least appealing habits, but Lynette’s pale skin and the purple smudges under the familiar orbs troubled her.

“No. I am fine and have been.” Lynette patted Jeanne’s hand still clasped in her own. “Have no fear, dearest.”

Jeanne smiled, nodding her head, but felt a niggling of lingering concern.

“And you, you rascal.” Olympe pulled Jeanne along to continue their stroll, looking sideways through narrowed dark eyes at her friend. “Is all we have heard true?”

“Too true, I fear.” Jeanne tried to look contrite, but the feigned repentance was an unconvincing mask before these two friends.

“You are the chatter of the château,” Olympe chided. “Could you not contain yourself for one more year?”

Jeanne shook her head vehemently, one long curl coming loose to fall blithely down her neck.

“It is a miracle I did not get ousted sooner.” Jeanne’s mouth turned up in a devilish grin, a decidedly malicious spark lighting in her sable eyes. “In truth, my dears, I did everything I could to get evicted.”


Non
, shh, do not say such things.” Lynette surreptitiously cast her gaze about. “Why? Why would you wish it to be so?”

“Why would I not? The place was abhorrent, the instruction was trivial nonsense, the girls were brainless twits, and the nuns were naught but veiled monsters.”

Jeanne closed her eyes tightly, repulsed by the memories. To revisit her seven years at the convent was to recall a nightmare that lasted all night. Just speaking of it brought the horrors quickly back; even the smells, the harsh lye soap, the burnt porridge, and the sickeningly sweet incense, came back to clog her sinuses. But it was the blind, slavelike obedience demanded from the sisters that she could not abide.

“How can my love of God be measured by how deeply I curtsey to the nuns?” Jeanne demanded self-righteously.

Olympe giggled loudly; Lynette shushed her again.

“You really must watch your tongue,” Lynette warned softly, teeth clamped tightly together. “You are a part of Louis’ court now. There are ears everywhere. You must control your words.”

“Ha!” Olympe barked, holding her chin a smidgen higher and flashing a sensual smile at two young soldiers as they passed. “Advising Jeanne to hold her tongue is like advising the world to stop turning. It cannot be done.”

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