It is my opinion that the Dauphin should divorce her.” “Divorce?” the King scoffed. “Impossible! I shall leave those unsavory matters to the house of England, at which my good brother Henry has become so proficient. No. Divorce shall not happen in the house of France.” It was the first of April, seven months since the Dauphin’s death. Although the spring had put his consumption to rest, François’ mood was still a melancholy one. The Cardinal de Lorraine, the ambitious head of the house of Guise, strolled slowly beside the King as they wound their way through the new formal parterre. The Cardinal pretended to appreciate the precision of the beauty around him, having been undaunted by the King’s response to his calculated suggestion. After all, the idea was a new one. There was time. If his plan was to be accepted, it must be executed perfectly. He could not push. It must seem like the King’s own idea. There was no margin for error when the honor of his entire family was at risk.
