Loyal in Love: Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I

DISCORD IN THE ROYAL APARTMENTS

It was seven o’clock on that Sunday evening when I set foot on English soil. An assembly of gentlemen was waiting to receive me and an artificial bridge had been set up so that I could disembark easily. This, I was told, had been ordered by the King who was at that time at Canterbury, which was not very far from Dover, and there he was eagerly awaiting news of my arrival.

I wondered then why he was not at Dover and would have impulsively asked this if I had not had to speak through an interpreter, for I felt more than a little annoyed that he had not been there to greet me.

I was informed that a message would be sent to the King immediately to tell him of my coming and he should be with me in less than an hour.

I replied—somewhat imperiously, Mamie said afterward—that I was too tired to receive anyone that evening. The journey had been exhausting and I needed food and rest.

I was told that it should be as I wished and we proceeded at once to the castle where it had been arranged that I should spend the night.

The castle was near the coast and I hated it from the moment I saw it. It was very gloomy, quite unlike the Louvre, Chenonceaux, Chambord…those castles to which I was accustomed, and as my footsteps rang out on the bare boards I noticed how shabby everything was.

I said that I would retire to my apartments without delay for more than anything I needed rest. Perhaps some food could be brought for my lady of honor and myself. I made it clear that I wished to see no one until the morning.

At least they seemed eager to comply with my wishes, and I was immediately conducted to my apartment. I gasped with horror when I saw it. There were tapestries on the walls but they were dingy and dusty. Mamie went to the bed and felt it. It was hard and lumpy. I had never seen such a bed in any of our French castles or palaces. And this was the room they had prepared for the Queen of England!

“Never mind,” said Mamie. “Don’t get angry. You can change everything later. But just for tonight accept it.”

“Don’t they want me here?”

“Of course they want you! You have to remember that they do not live in the style that we do. They are barbarians compared with us.”

“What of men like the Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of Holland? They are as elegant as any Frenchman.”

“Perhaps it is just their castles which are different. But never mind about that now. We need rest. Everything will look better in the morning.”

“I don’t think this place will ever look better. It will be worse when the sunlight picks out the horrors and shows them to us more clearly.”

But as usual she soothed me. We ate a little together and then she helped me to bed.

Tired as I was it was not easy to sleep. All the excitement I had felt through the wedding and festivities had disappeared and in its place was a growing apprehension.

But Mamie was right. I did feel better in the daylight, for even though it showed up the threadbare state of the bedcurtains, it lit up those dark corners and eliminated the shadows which had been so disturbing on the previous night. Breakfast was brought to the apartment and Mamie and I were eating it when a messenger came into the room.

He bowed respectfully, and said, “Pardon the intrusion, Your Majesty, but the King has arrived from Canterbury and he wishes you to know that he is waiting to see you.”

I stood up. I would see him without delay. This was the moment for which I had been waiting ever since I had seen the portrait of him and knew I was to be his wife.

Mamie was looking at me anxiously, warning me not to be over-impulsive. I smiled at her. “He is my husband,” I reminded her, “and I am naturally all eagerness to meet him.”

She tidied my hair and smoothed my gown. “You look enchanting,” she whispered and kissed me.

Then I descended the stairs to the hall.

I was aware of a figure standing there and I went forward swiftly and was about to kneel and say what I had been taught I must say on our first meeting, that I had come to His Majesty’s country to be commanded by him…but the words would not come, my voice broke with emotion and I felt the tears gushing to my eyes, while he caught me up in his arms.

He was very tender. He took his kerchief and wiped my eyes; then he kissed my forehead and my tear-stained cheeks…not once but several times.

“Why,” he said softly in French, for I had no English, “I must kiss you until you cease to weep. You are not with enemies and strangers, you must know. It is God’s will that you and I are here and does He not tell you to leave your kindred and cling to your husband?”

I nodded in agreement.

“Well then,” he said gently. “All is well. As for myself…I will not be so much a master to you as a servant to cherish you and make you happy.”

It seemed to me that no husband could have used kinder words and I began to feel better.

“Now we will sit down and talk together,” he said. “You shall get to know me and you will realize that this marriage of ours is not a matter for sorrow but for joy.”

He took my hand and led me to a window seat where we sat side by side.

I was able to take a glance at him. He was of medium height and I was relieved that he was not very tall as that would have accentuated my low stature. He was not as handsome as the picture in the miniature, but he was pleasant looking. There was, however, a certain melancholy aspect about him which had not been apparent in the miniature and which alarmed me faintly.

It might have been that I was a trifle disappointed in his looks but his kindness was comforting. He clearly did not seem disappointed in my looks, for I caught a glimpse of admiration in his eyes, and as others thought I was pretty I guessed he did too.

It occurred to me then that my portrait might have underrated my attractions, for Mamie had often said that my vivacity was a very large part of my charm. I thought a little liveliness might have improved him. I definitely had the impression in that first half hour that he was inclined to be morose.

He told me that we should leave for Canterbury later in the day and stay the night there. He had been there when he had heard of my arrival and had set out immediately, accomplishing the journey in half an hour, which was something of a record and showed his eagerness to be with his bride.

“You must present me to your attendants who have come with you,” he said. “And I will present your English ones to you.”

“I daresay I shall make mistakes,” I replied. “Matters are conducted differently here from the way they are in France, and I do not even know the language.”

“You will quickly learn,” he reassured me.

“If I make mistakes you must tell me.”

He smiled at me very gravely and tenderly. I wished he had joked a little though, brought some lightness into the conversation, but of course that was not his nature. I thought then, they could not have found a partner for me more different from myself.

He took my hand and I stood up. I came up to his shoulder and I saw by the way he looked at me that he suspected I was wearing high heels to give me height. He must have heard exaggerated reports of my low stature.

I said at once: “My heels are flat.” I raised my skirts and held out a foot to confirm this. “I stand on my own feet and have no help through art to make me taller. This high I am…neither taller nor lower.”

He took my hand and kissed it.

“You are beautiful,” he said. “I think ours will be a happy marriage.”

I wondered even then. There was so much I did not know about England and I had already been amazed—as had my attendants—that they could have housed their Queen even for one night in that shabby old castle. And Charles my husband? He lacked the gaiety of Englishmen like the Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of Holland; there was something very serious indeed about him which I had already detected. Perhaps I should have rejoiced in that. I was not sure.

I presented my attendants to him and he in turn introduced those whom he had chosen to attend me. These meetings passed off comfortably and it was not until the carriage arrived to take us to Canterbury that the trouble arose.

I was walking with Charles, and Mamie was a pace or so behind, for I had told her to keep close and not lose sight of me.

“I want to see you there all the time,” I had said, “that is until I get used to these people.”

“Don’t worry,” she had replied. “I will be there.”

The King’s coach was waiting and he took my hand and helped me in. I sat down and Mamie got in beside me. The King stared at her as though thunderstruck.

“Madame,” he said, “pray leave the royal coach at once.”

Mamie turned pale while I looked on disbelievingly. At home the chief lady of honor always rode with my mother and the chief gentleman with the King.

She rose uncertainly but I cried out: “She shall ride with me.”

“There is no place for her in my coach,” said the King.

Mamie gave me an appealing glance and prepared to step out of the coach, but I caught her skirt and would not let her go. I never could control my temper and it was rising now. It seemed desperately important to me that Mamie should ride in the coach. Charles must learn what she meant to me, and I would not have her insulted in this way.

Poor Mamie! For once she did not know what to do. The King was glaring at her, ordering her to go, while I held her skirts firmly in my hands and ordered her to stay.

I looked steadily at my husband and there must have been defiance in my eyes—more than that, hatred. He looked back at me…coldly, but a little bewildered I noticed.

I said coolly: “If my chief lady of honor does not ride in the coach then I will not either.”

“She shall travel with the rest of the attendants,” said the King.

“She is my special friend and she has always ridden with me in my carriage and she shall do so now and if she does not I shall stay in this dirty old castle until I can return to my country.”

It was wild nonsense really. As if I could return! As if that would be allowed! I was irrevocably married to this cold-eyed man and in that moment I hated him. But I was never very logical in my rages. Mamie had pointed that out to me many times.

The King was white with anger. And this was the first day of our meeting! I knew that it did not augur well for the future.

There was deep silence all about us. I saw the Earl of Holland looking on in disbelief while in the face of the Duke of Buckingham there was the flicker of a smile. I had an idea that he was enjoying looking on at this—my first conflict with my husband.

I glared at the King. Mamie said afterward that I looked like a wildcat and she thought I was going to fly at him. I knew my eyes were blazing and I spat out my words so fast that many of the English had no idea what I was saying, which was perhaps just as well.

I suppose I was a little hysterical. I was like that when one of my rages took possession of me, and I knew that there was more to this than appeared on the surface. It was because I was so frightened that I let my anger get the better of me.

Charles had stepped out of the carriage. I thought he was going to drag Mamie out so I clung to her skirts. She looked at me entreatingly and muttered under her breath: “Let me go. We must stop this scene….”

But I would not let her go. I felt the hot and angry tears in my eyes and willed them not to fall. I was trembling but determined. If Mamie left the carriage, I told her fiercely, I should go too.

Several of the King’s ministers had come to him. They seemed to surround him and there was a great deal of whispering going on. The incident could not have lasted more than a few minutes but it seemed much longer.

Then those about the King parted and Charles stepped into the carriage. For a few seconds I waited in trepidation for what would happen next. He seated himself next to me and signed for Mamie to take the seat opposite, which she did. Then the horses began to move forward.

For a few seconds I felt exultant. I had won. And then a mood of foreboding settled on me while I saw the King’s glance sweep over Mamie. There was an implacable hatred in his face.

On the way to Canterbury we came to a place called Barham Downs. There pavilions had been set up and a banquet awaited us, and among those who greeted us were several Englishwomen whom the King presented to me as the ladies of my household.

I greeted them somewhat regally because I had brought the ladies of my household with me and I could not see that I should need more than I already had. But at least I was experienced enough to know that this was not the time to raise the question. We had had enough for one day in the upset over Mamie and the carriage. So I smiled and played the gracious Queen and my husband’s expression grew a little less frigid. I was hungry and I did full justice to the food which had been prepared and I did feel it was rather pleasant to be in the open fields and watch the pennants fluttering in the light breeze and think that all this had been set up in this green field in honor of me.

My spirits continued to rise as the ancient town of Canterbury came into sight, for the approaches to the city were beautiful with the entire scene dominated by the cathedral’s magnificent tower.

It was dusk when we arrived and a splendid feast awaited us. The King now seemed to have recovered his good humor and he smiled and talked to me at table, insisting on carving the meat for me himself, which was a great honor.

Father Sancy, my confessor, was watching me, and I knew this was because as it was a fast day I should not be eating meat—but I was hungry and I felt rebellious against authority no matter from what quarter it came. Moreover I was a little triumphant after my victory in the carriage, and while I ate heartily of the meat, which seemed to please the King, I avoided the eyes of my confessor. I would be ready with my excuses when I received his reprimand—as I surely would—and I would explain to him that as I had come to live in this country I must respect its customs. I hoped my confessor had not heard of the incident in the carriage.

After we had feasted, the King said there would be a small personal ceremony of marriage. We were married it was true, but only by proxy and he wished to be present at his own ceremony. It would be quiet and quick…but nevertheless a ceremony of marriage.

So this was performed in the great hall of the city and everyone could be satisfied that we had taken our vows to each other personally.

I was appalled by the state of my apartments and the bed was certainly no better than the one I had slept in on the previous night. How strange that was, for this was my marriage bed which I was to share with the King. Were the English savages? How should I ever grow accustomed to living in such conditions?

Mamie helped me undress and dismissed the rest of the women so that we could be alone. I could see she was still shaken by the incident in the coach.

“It was wrong,” she said. “You should not have insisted.”

“I do insist and I shall go on insisting that you ride in the carriage with me as you did in France.”

“We are not in France now,” she reminded me. “When you live in a country you must conform to that country’s customs…particularly if you are its Queen.”

“I shall conform to none…but my own. I will tell you what is wrong with these people. They are heretics…and that means they are little better than savages.”

“Be careful,” said Mamie.

“Am I the Queen or am I not?”

“You are the King’s consort, which makes you a queen, but your title comes through him.”

“You talk as though you are on their side.”

“I am always on your side. You know that well enough.”

Then we fell into each other’s arms and hugged each other.

She was very serious. “You know that tonight you will share the King’s bed,” she reminded me. “You know what is expected of you?”

I nodded.

I saw the worry in her eyes. “You know you have to love your husband,” she said.

“I am not sure that I am going to do that. This afternoon in the coach I hated him.”

“Oh, my little Queen, I can see trouble for you if you do not control your rages.”

“My rage worked well today did it not? You rode in the carriage because I insisted.”

“I think it would have been better if I had quietly alighted and murmured apologies about not understanding the English customs. The King would have understood and that would have been an end to the matter.”

“The matter ended in triumph for me.”

“Let us hope that we have seen the end of it.”

“What is wrong with you? Why are you different today? You would have laughed in the old days.”

“These are not the old days. Try to remember that we are in a new country…and remember, too, that from now on it is our country.”

“I shall change it.”

“You talk like a child.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Do I? My mother and the Pope himself have told me that I must change it. Are they children?”

“Oh take care, dear child, take care.”

I could not shake her out of her gravity, which was so unusual with her. I should have been quite angry with her if I hadn’t known that the change in her was due to her concern for me.

But she could not rob me of my triumph over the carriage incident. I had won. There was no denying that. I did realize though that my own mother would have taken a very different view of my tantrums. I should have been lectured, punished and denied what I had demanded if that incident had taken place in France.

Now I had the night ahead to think of.

How different this from the royal coucher at the Louvre. The King was undressed by only two of his gentlemen which would have been considered very odd indeed and quite unroyal by the standards prevailing in France.

He came to me in that shabby old room and looked round it. At first I thought he was going to comment on its shabbiness—and perhaps apologize for it—but it seemed he was only making sure that we were alone.

Then he went to the door and locked it.

He looked different in his night attire—not nearly so formidable as he had in the carriage. He seemed to have forgotten all that now and in any case he had not appeared to be displeased with me but with Mamie, which struck me as very unfair.

He lay down on the bed and made me lie beside him; then he put his arms about me and began to tell me how happy he was that I was there and how my appearance pleased him and that it was our duty to have children.

I listened and waited.

I was passive in his embrace and found I was able to endure what followed with a certain fortitude for I knew that it was part of the duties which were required of me.

I lay bewildered afterward and wondered what people like Madame de Chevreuse, Buckingham and Holland found so exciting about it.

The King seemed rather pleased. I was tired out by all the emotions of the day and fell asleep quickly.

In the morning when I awoke the King had already left the bed and the door was unlocked. My ladies came in to help me with my toilette and Mamie looked at me questioningly.

I nodded. “Yes. It happened.”

“And you…?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “It was no worse than I expected.”

Mamie said: “I knew the King was kindly.”

But she continued to look uneasy and I guessed she was remembering the incident in the coach.

I burst out: “I don’t like England. I don’t like the King. I want to go home.”

“Hush,” said Mamie. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.”

Then I threw myself at her and refused to let go; she rocked me as she might a baby. I wanted to tell her how only she made it bearable here, how I was tired of being the Queen of England and wanted to go back to being merely a Princess of France.

“I want to go home!” I cried.

“Hush,” she said. “Don’t be a baby.”

We spent another night in Canterbury which was very like the first and I was glad to leave the dingy old apartments for the fresh country air. I had to admit that the landscape was very beautiful with green meadows and majestic trees. I felt better when we were riding away from Canterbury and although I did not like my husband very much, I hoped I should not have to see a great deal of him. During the days I would be with Mamie and my ladies and we could dance and sing together and share our jokes and contempt for our new country while we talked nostalgically about the one we had left. Yes, I thought I could bear that.

We came to Gravesend where we were to stay as the guests of the Countess of Lennox. She was waiting to greet us and paid great homage to the King; then she turned to me and bowed very low. She said she was greatly honored that we should be her guests and added that she had grave news which she thought should be imparted to the King immediately.

He looked very serious and she went on: “It is the plague, Your Majesty. It will be most unsafe for you and the Queen to travel through the streets of London.”

My husband said: “But the people will be expecting us. They will want their processions and all the pageantry which goes with them.”

“Nevertheless that is how it is, my lord. You will hear more of this but I thought I should tell you without delay.”

How serious the King was! He never seemed to laugh spontaneously. Perhaps that was why I found it so hard to like him.

Now instead of the pleasant welcome I had been looking forward to there was great concern and people were gathering round the King deciding what should be done.

I was taken to an apartment to rest and Mamie came with me. While we were there Father Sancy came to us and said he wished to have a word with me, so Mamie retired and left me alone with my confessor, which was the last thing I wanted.

He then began reprimanding me for eating meat in Canterbury and I said what I had prepared myself to say which was that I had only been following the customs of my new country.

“Following the customs of heretics!” he thundered. “That is a fine way to begin! What will you do? Deny the true Faith because it is the custom of savages among whom you live?”

“That is very different from eating meat, Father.”

“You have gone against the laws of Holy Church.”

“I shall not do it again, Father.”

He seemed faintly mollified. His eyes shone with zeal and as he looked round the room his expression changed to one of contempt, although the apartment was an improvement on those I had had at Dover and Canterbury.

“And now,” he went on, “there is consternation about your ride through the streets of London. Plague, they say. Let me tell you, my lady, there is constant plague in this accursed country and there will be until these misguided people come to the Truth. It is God’s way of punishing them. It was a sad day for us when we came to this land.”

“My mother did not seem to think so. Nor did the Holy Father.”

Father Sancy wagged a finger at me. “The Holy Father gave the dispensation most reluctantly, and for a reason.” He brought his face close to mine. “The work must begin without delay. You have been chosen for a great task, my lady, and that is to lead these people back to the true Faith.”

I tried to look solemn. I was longing for him to go. There was so much I had to say to Mamie. I cast down my eyes and folded my hands demurely together. What should I wear for my procession into London? I was asking myself.

“And,” he went on, his voice growing louder, “you will not do it by eating meat on a fast day.”

The simplest way to be rid of him was not to argue although it was hard to resist the temptation to do so. I murmured a prayer with him and he left.

Mamie came running in.

“I have heard that we have to go to London by barge which will prevent our having to go through the plague-ridden streets,” she cried. “And you are to wear green. The King will wear green also. I suppose it must be an emblem of spring.”

Then I dressed and we laughed as I told her about Father Sancy and I added: “If I want to eat meat, I shall eat meat, I shall be ordered by no one, Mamie, neither priest nor husband.”

“You are a wild rebellious creature,” she said, “and,” she added, “you always were.”

“And always will be,” I assured her.

“We shall wait and see,” said Mamie, which made us laugh because that was what she used to say to me when I was very young.

The next morning I went with my husband and our attendants onto the state barge. The river seemed to be crowded with craft of all kinds because many of the nobility who could had come to join the escort into London, and as we stepped on board there was a volley of fifteen hundred shot which was quite deafening.

I enjoyed sailing down the river. The King beside me seemed very benign though still serious. I wondered if he ever laughed out loud. It should be another of my tasks to make him do so, but that appeared to be almost as formidable as turning Protestant England into a Catholic country. I loved the big ships of the Navy which the King pointed out to me with pride as we passed. I had never seen anything like them in France and as we passed them and they fired their ordnance, it was the most thrilling moment that had come to me since my arrival in England.

It was late afternoon when I saw the great Tower of London looming up before us—not beautiful as our buildings are, but formidable and very impressive. The gay flags fluttering from its towers looked rather incongruous and as our barge approached the guns fired so loudly that I almost cried out in half terror, half delight.

The King was amused. He smiled faintly, which was a good deal for him to do; the riverbanks were crowded with people and they were shouting “Long live our little Queen,” which my husband translated for me and which so pleased me that I waved my hand in acknowledgment. They seemed pleased by that, and as the King still wore that rather reluctant smile I guessed I was doing what was right.

As we progressed along the river we came right into the city and here the crowds were even greater. People not only lined the riverbanks but had climbed on ships lying in the river and they were shouting and waving from ships’ hulls and craft of all kinds. There was one event which might have been disastrous and it happened just as we were passing. One of the ships capsized suddenly. I suppose too many people had scrambled onto it. It went down into the water and I heard afterward that there were more than a hundred people on board.

I heard screams and cries of consternation and the attention of the crowd was turned from us to the people struggling in the water. Fortunately there were plenty there to effect a rescue and everyone was eventually brought safely out of the river and all they suffered really was a terrible fright and a dunking.

Along the river we sailed until we came to our destination, which was Somerset House. The grounds ran down to the river and here we alighted and I was conducted ceremoniously into the house. It was grander than those in which I had stayed so far in England but I still found it lacking in the elegance of our French palaces. However the journey by river from Gravesend had been refreshing and the cheers of the people—who seemed to have taken a liking to me—were still ringing in my ears so I felt a little happier.

We spent the night here in a bed which I thought very odd because I had never seen the like. But I was supposed to regard it with some awe as it had once been Queen Elizabeth’s and she had slept in it many times.

Queen Elizabeth was the arch heretic and I certainly did not feel the respect that they seemed to consider due to her. In fact I found the idea repulsive and I made no attempt to hide the fact. Charles ignored my hints and behaved as though I were perfectly contented.

We stayed only a few days at Somerset House, which was too near the city for us to be safe from infection, but during that time the King went to Parliament to make his opening speech. I gathered it was not a great success though he did not tell me so. He never spoke to me on serious matters. I suppose I did not encourage confidences at that time. He must have thought me a frivolous and rather stupid little girl—which I suppose I was.

It was Mamie who told me that he had asked for money from the Parliament which would mean taxing the people, and the people hated to be taxed.

“There are many things they don’t like,” Mamie told me. “They don’t like Buckingham much.”

“I don’t blame them,” I retorted. “Why don’t they like him? Do they know how badly he behaved with my brother’s wife?”

“Oh, they wouldn’t care about that. It is not a matter of morals. People in high places can do exactly as they like in that respect. The old King doted on him…his Steenie as he called him because he said he bore a resemblance to St. Stephen. He was his favorite young man, and he had lots of young men around him. But Buckingham is too ambitious. He fancies himself as a statesman and a ruler more than he does a lap dog…which was what most of the handsome young men were content to be. Well, the old King has died and now they say that Buckingham is getting a hold on the new one.”

“A hold on Charles!”

“Well, he listens to him. He’s his greatest friend. They went to Spain together, didn’t they, when Charles was courting the Spanish Princess? And then he came to France when it was your turn.”

“So the people don’t like Buckingham. Do you know, I don’t think he likes me.”

“Nonsense. It’s not for him to like or dislike you. You represent the alliance with France and he worked for that, didn’t he?”

“Oh, I am glad the people don’t like him. It shows they have some sense…even if they are heretics.”

Mamie laughed at me and said I should have to grow up.

The plague was getting worse, so it was decided we should leave Somerset House for Hampton Court.

I was impressed by Hampton Court from the moment I saw it. This was more like a royal residence. Approaching it from the river was to see it in all its imposing glory. When I stepped ashore and crossed the splendid gardens to the entrance of the palace I felt I was indeed the Queen of a great country.

I think there were about fifteen hundred rooms in the palace which had been built by Cardinal Wolsey at the height of his glory and taken from him by King Henry the Eighth who could not bear that a subject should live more grandly than he did. The rooms were vast—each of the fireplaces was big enough to roast an ox. The furnishings were drab but I was fast discovering that the English lacked the refined tastes of the French. They seemed either drab or garish in my eyes. But they could not detract from the splendor of Hampton Court.

“This is where we shall stay for a while,” Charles told me. “Here we shall spend our honeymoon.”

A honeymoon meant getting to know each other and as the days passed I realized that our relationship did not grow warmer as we began to know each other more intimately.

Mamie urged me to try harder to like my husband.

“I think,” she said, “that he is ready to love you. He finds you very attractive physically.”

“I don’t find him so.”

“But if you tried….”

“Mamie, don’t be silly. How can you try to love someone? You either do or you don’t.”

“You can be understanding. Try to see what it is that you don’t like and then try….”

“He never laughs. He is so serious. He doesn’t approve of so much that I do. And, Mamie, he doesn’t like you.”

“That matter of the coach was very unfortunate…happening as it did right at the beginning.”

“It is over and forgotten.”

“Some things are never forgotten.”

“Well, he had better stop disliking you, for I shall not like him until he does.”

“Dearest, you are very willful.”

“I am as I am…and I will not change for anyone.”

“You are very young. When you grow older you will learn that we all have to change sometimes…. We have to adjust ourselves to circumstances.”

“I will not. I will be myself and any who don’t like that can do as they please. I don’t care.”

Mamie shrugged her shoulders; she knew it was no use trying to make me see reason when I was in a certain mood.

I was incensed when Buckingham came to me, and from that time I hated him more than ever.

It was downright impertinent and when I realized that Charles had sent him, I hated them both and determined that I would do everything I could to annoy them.

Buckingham tried to look severe. He more or less demanded an audience, which I should have refused, but I didn’t out of curiosity to know why he should come to see me.

I expected him to pay compliments and treat me as though I was a pretty woman as well as a queen. I might have relented a little if he had. He was bold, he was blatant, and I remembered the manner in which he had tried to seduce the Queen of France right under my brother’s nose.

He looked at me coolly, rather as though I were a recalcitrant child, and said: “The King is displeased.”

“For what reason?” I asked.

“Because of your conduct to him.”

“And the King tells you this?”

“I have volunteered to convey his displeasure to you.”

“That,” I said with sarcasm, “is noble of you.”

“The King says you show no affection toward him.”

“And what concern is that of yours, my lord?”

“It is my concern because the King tells me and has asked me to speak to you on this matter.”

“So you are to plead with me to love him? Why? Are you such a clever supplicant? You were not particularly successful with my sister-in-law the Queen of France.”

Buckingham’s handsome face flushed a dull plum color. I had touched him on a vulnerable spot and I rejoiced. He looked at me steadily while the flush on his face slowly faded, leaving it rather pale.

“I have to tell you that if you do not show more affection to the King and conform more with his wishes, you will be a very unhappy woman.”

“Pray do not concern yourself, my Lord Buckingham. I can manage my own affairs.”

“It would be wise for you to show a little pleasure in the King’s company. You laugh and sing with your French companions and as soon as the King arrives with his English ones you become sullen and silent.”

“Then it is for the King and his English attendants to amuse me as my own friends do.”

“It is for you, Madam, to please the King. We are all his subjects…even you…and it would be wise for you to remember that.”

“My Lord Buckingham, I no longer have need of your presence.”

He bowed and for a moment our eyes met and I knew in that moment that he hated me as much as I hated him.

Mamie was very upset when I told her what had happened. She chided me a little for the way in which I had received him.

“I will not pretend,” I said fiercely.

She shook her head and answered: “Dearest, you will have to curb your temper. You must, you know; it could lead you into difficulties.”

“Again you seem to be on his side.”

“Never…never. But you are wrong, my love. You must learn to be diplomatic.”

“I hate them all. Heretics! Savages!”

Mamie looked very distraught. “This will not help at all,” she said.

A few days later Buckingham came to see me again. I was on the point of refusing to see him but Mamie was with me when he was announced and she advised me against a direct refusal. “Try to be calm,” she said. “Listen to what he has to say and reply to it with tact and calm.”

“I shall grant him nothing.”

“Perhaps not, but do it as a queen would, not as a rebellious schoolgirl.”

Buckingham came in looking elegant and handsome. It is a pity I cannot like him, I thought. He dresses with such taste that he looks almost like a Frenchman.

“Your Majesty!” He bowed low and kissed my hand. I could feel the anger surging up in me and I guessed my eyes were beginning to blaze as they did at such moments. “May I say,” he went on, “that you are looking even more beautiful than ever. The air at Hampton suits you.”

“You are good to say so,” I replied, so far quite calm.

“I come from His Majesty.”

“Oh? Is he so far away that he cannot come himself?” My temper was beginning to rise. I must remember Mamie’s warning and try to keep calm.

“He has given this commission to me,” he replied suavely, “and I have a special request to make.”

I thought: What insolence! You to make a special request to me…after our last meeting. But I said nothing and he went on: “His Majesty thinks that now you have become his wife and Queen of England you should have Englishwomen in your bedchamber.”

“I am very satisfactorily served at the time,” I replied.

“I am sure of that, but His Majesty is hoping that you will soon master the English language and adopt some of our English ways. Therefore he thinks that if certain ladies came into your bedchamber they would be of service to you…if you would graciously allow them to.”

“Oh? And whom does he suggest?”

“He has been most gracious to me and declares I have done him great service. As you know I was the main instrument in arranging this most desirable marriage. His Majesty cannot thank me enough for bringing him such a beautiful bride, and I hope that you too, Your Majesty, feel a little gratitude toward me.”

I was seething with rage and I knew I could not contain it much longer. He did not give me time to speak but went on: “The King has honored me by agreeing that my wife, my sister and my niece should occupy these coveted posts.”

I stared at him disbelievingly. He would put his women about me. For what purpose? Their aggrandizement certainly…but to spy on me!

I burst out: “My lord Buckingham, I already have three ladies of the bedchamber. I do not need more.”

“They are Frenchwomen,” he said, “and the King would like your ladies to be English.”

“You may tell the King that I am perfectly satisfied with what I already have and I intend to remain so.”

He bowed and left me.

Seething with rage I sought out Mamie and told her what had happened. She was greatly distressed. She saw further than I did. She did not want to worry me but I did make her tell me that she feared she, among the others, might be sent back to France. It was the custom when a princess married into a foreign country that the attendants who accompanied her went back to their own country after a few days or weeks at the most.

“This is different,” I cried passionately. “This was the arrangement. I am not to be surrounded by heretics. It was agreed that my own people should stay with me.”

Mamie comforted me and assured me that I had nothing to fear and that I had done right in refusing to accept the Englishwomen into my bedchamber.

I felt very relieved when the Bishop of Mende, who had come with me among my clergy, called on me with Father Sancy and told me that he had had to make my position very clear to the King.

“It was decided,” said the Bishop, “that you should have English ladies to wait on you in your bedchamber. I have explained that this is quite out of the question.”

I clasped my hands together in delight, which I tried to make appear as religious fervor.

“We cannot have heretics living so close to you,” went on the Bishop.

“They might attempt to corrupt you,” added Father Sancy.

“I would never allow that,” I assured him.

“Nevertheless we cannot afford to run risks,” said the Bishop. “I have made it clear to the King that my masters in France would take a very grave view of having these Huguenots in your bedchamber.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I said, “I am grateful for your care.”

“You must never forget your duty to the Church,” said my confessor.

And I assured them both that I would not forget. I would keep about me my own French attendants who were good Catholics. I would fight with all my might against the heretics.

“Let us kneel and pray that you will be successful in that which God has sent you to England to bring about,” said Father Sancy.

The Bishop was less fanatical, but he was determined—even as Father Sancy was—that I should keep the Protestants out.

I was very cool with the King in our bedchamber at Hampton on the night following the visit of the Bishop and Father Sancy. He knew why, of course, and he was very anxious to placate me. I think he enjoyed those intimacies of the bedchamber far more than I did, and I thought it was perverse of him to show a little rancor because I could not share the same pleasure as he did. The fact was that I should have preferred to go home and live as I had before my marriage. True, to be a queen was gratifying, but I sometimes felt it was not worth all that it entailed.

The King stroked my hair and said it was beautiful. He loved my flashing dark eyes and my clear complexion, even my short stature. I was feminine, he said, all that a woman should be…save in one thing. I did not love my husband enough.

I was silent and he sighed deeply. He said: “It is only because I wish you to learn to speak English…and to love this country that I want you to have English ladies about you.”

“I would not love it the more for that,” I said. “I can accept life here because my friends are with me.”

“But I would be your friend,” he said, “the very best friend you have. I am your husband.”

“I would not lose those who have come with me from France for anything.”

He sighed. He did realize that it was never any use trying to convince me. He believed now that I was the most illogical, unreasoning young woman imaginable, a creature of whims and fancies, lacking completely in control of my feelings.

I know I was the main cause of all the unhappiness of those years. But I could not see it then.

So we retired to bed for our nightly ritual, which I longed to have done with so that I could sleep.

The discord between us continued and it seemed impossible to find an end to it. I knew there was a great deal of comment about the way I and my French friends behaved. We were allowed to celebrate Mass because that was part of the agreement between our two countries and my religious entourage made sure that this was carried out. But it was accepted with resentment. Mamie said the English could never forget that Mary Tudor had burned Protestants in Smithfield and at that time they had made up their minds that they would never be ruled by Catholics again. Then some of their sailors had become prisoners of the Inquisition and brought back tales of torture. The country had turned its back on Catholicism and forgotten, said Mamie, that the Protestants had not always been so kind to the Catholics among them. The English, she decided, were not an intensely religious nation. They were said to be tolerant, but their tolerance was in fact indifference. But although they might not object to Catholics on religious grounds, they were determined not to have another monarch like Mary Tudor, who was fiercely Catholic, having been brought up by her Catholic mother, Katherine of Aragon.

“It is well,” said Mamie, “to understand the people with whom you have to live. Sum them up. Don’t be afraid of them but don’t underrate them.”

I don’t know whether she was right but that was her assessment of them. However, I was allowed to celebrate Mass in the royal palaces with my attendants and we took advantage of this—perhaps a little blatantly. I was too careless then to see that we must inevitably be working toward a climax.

Mamie tried to explain to me what was happening, but I am afraid I found the subject rather boring and only half listened. I knew that she said something about the King’s finding it difficult to fall in with the terms of our marriage treaty without offending his own people and I should really try to be more understanding toward him. He was naturally preoccupied having state matters to think of and my little tantrums must be trying to him. Moreover he could not get French help to fight Spain, and the hope of doing so was one of the reasons why the marriage had been so pleasing to him. It was all very wearying and I shrugged it aside. I did listen a little more intently when she told me that Catholic services were banned in England—except in my household.

“He had better not try to stop me and my servants worshipping God,” I cried.

“He would not. That would be going against the marriage treaty.”

“Well, let us talk of something more interesting.”

She sighed and shook her head over me. Then I rushed to her and kissed her and she was laughing at me.

When the King dissolved Parliament he looked more stern than ever and said that he was going to the New Forest to hunt for a while. He thought I might not wish to go with him and he was right in that. Perhaps, he said, I would like to stay at Tichfield, which was the estate of the Earl of Southampton.

I was delighted to be relieved of his company and was very merry surrounded by my French attendants, riding with Mamie beside me to Tichfield; but I was a little put out on reaching the house to find that the Countess of Denbigh was there. I was prepared to loathe anyone connected with the Duke of Buckingham and she was his sister. Moreover she was one of those women whom he had tried to force me to accept into my bedchamber.

In the solitude of my apartment, Mamie and I discussed her. Mamie thought she was a very strong-minded woman and advised me to be careful in my dealings with her.

“Don’t show that you dislike her. Don’t forget that although you may dislike the Duke of Buckingham, he is the most powerful man in the country under the King, and it is unwise to offend him too much.”

But when had I ever been wise? I always listened to Mamie’s advice but I only took it when I wanted to.

“What is this Buckingham family?” I cried. “They were nothing before little Steenie attracted King James—and in a manner that is a disgrace to morality.”

“Hush,” said Mamie.

I snapped my fingers at her. “Don’t tell me to hush. Remember who I am.”

“Oh,” said Mamie, “on our high horse now, are we? Shall I bow low to Your Majesty and walk out on all fours?”

She could always make me laugh and that was why I loved her so much.

I went on: “It shows they were nothing…otherwise she would never have married William Feilding. Who was he, pray, before the earldom was bestowed on him? A commoner who had the good fortune to marry Susan Villiers. He would not have been allowed to unless he had done so before her brother caught the King’s eye with his pretty face and made the family fortunes.”

“My word, you have probed into the family history.”

“Well, I happen to be interested in these odious connections of Buckingham’s, and don’t forget they tried to force Susan Villiers into my bedchamber.”

“The Countess of Denbigh now.”

“A title bestowed by the good graces of her brother who wants to see all his family in influential places. Oh, he has to be watched, that one.”

“And you will do the watching?”

I said: “You are laughing at me again. I forbid it.”

“Then I will hide my laughter and present always a serious countenance to Your Majesty.”

“That is what I could not bear. There is too much solemnity around me already.”

I will admit, when looking back, that I behaved in an unseemly fashion toward the Countess of Denbigh; but then she was hardly within her rights in her conduct toward me.

She professed to be very religious and it was quite clear that she deplored the fact that Mass was celebrated at Tichfield. I will not try to pretend that I did not arrange for our services to take place as ostentatiously as I could, and those about me—perhaps with the exception of Mamie—did all they could to encourage me.

It was Mamie who told me that the Countess of Denbigh had decided that she would arrange a Protestant service to take place in the great hall at Tichfield. All the household should assemble and take part—with, of course, the exception of mine.

I was rather pleased because courtesy would demand that as the Queen was in the house her permission would have to be asked.

I discussed it with Mamie.

“I shall refuse it,” I said.

“You cannot,” replied Mamie, shocked.

“I can and I will.”

“It would be a grave mistake. Listen, my dearest, you are a fervent Catholic, but you are in a country where the Protestant religion is maintained. You must graciously give your consent and while the service is going on remain in your apartments. There is nothing else to be done.”

“Why does she arrange this while I am here?”

“Perhaps to show that while the country has a Catholic Queen, it is staunchly Protestant.”

“Then I shall refuse.”

“Please do not. It would be folly. They would hold it against you. It would get to the King’s ears…worse still, to those of his ministers. It would not be tolerated to forbid these people to worship in the accepted religion of the country.”

I pressed my lips firmly together. In my heart I knew that she was right, but I could not stop myself rehearsing what I would say to Susan Villiers when she came to ask my permission.

Mamie was not with me when one of my attendants came rushing into my apartments.

“My lady,” cried my attendant breathlessly, “what do you think? There is a service going on in the great hall. The whole household…the Protestant household…is gathered there.”

I was aghast.

So, she had not bothered to ask my permission. This was a double insult. First to arrange the service while I was under this roof, then to carry it out without asking my permission.

What could I do? I was not going to ask Mamie this time because I knew she would say “Nothing.” But I was enraged and I wanted it to be known.

I had an idea. I would not go down and demand that it be stopped, which was my first reaction. I would disrupt it in such a manner as I could not be called to task for.

I gathered together a group of my attendants and told them we were going to take out the dogs. We all loved our little dogs and most of the ladies had several. We put them on their leads and I led my party down to the hall where the assembled company was kneeling in prayer. I walked across the hall to the door, my attendants following me. The dogs yapped and barked and ran about; we laughed at their antics and chatted animatedly, behaving as though we could not see the people at prayer.

At length we came out into the courtyard, laughing together. But I did not intend that it should end there. I sent about six of the ladies back to bring a kerchief for me. They went, taking their dogs with them, and I stood at the door exulting in the noise they made.

When they returned, I cried in a loud voice, “The air is a little cold. I think I will not walk today.” Then we all trooped back. Someone was preaching but his voice was drowned in the commotion we made.

Of course everyone was shocked by what had happened—Mamie as much as anyone.

They were all talking about it. I said that I should have been consulted and that to conduct such a service without my permission was a breach of good manners; but I think that most people thought that her fault in not asking my permission was slight compared with the way in which I and my attendants had acted.

Deep shock was expressed about my behavior. Mamie was the first to tell me that I should never have behaved as I did and that it would be remembered and held against me. Perhaps the Countess had been remiss but what I had done amounted to an insult to the Protestant religion.

I said I did not care and would do it again, which made Mamie despair.

When the King returned from his hunting trip he said nothing about the incident but I felt sure he had heard of it. There was a certain determination added to his usual sternness, and I wondered whether he was planning something.

In many ways he was delighted with me. I believe he could have been passionately in love with me then; but I was so unsatisfactory to him in many ways and a man of his nature could never quite forget that.

I did not understand this then. It is only now that I do when I have so much time—too much time—for reflection. There was consternation between the Courts of France and England. Nothing was going as anyone had wanted it to. There was so much conflict that Mamie feared my husband and my brother might be on the brink of war with each other. My brother—or I expect it was Richelieu—sent the Sieur de Blainville to try to bring some accord between the two countries. The King did not like him very much and that made it difficult for any understanding to be reached. Blainville came to see me and told me I should try to understand the English, to learn their language, to mingle with them at Court and not keep myself isolated with my French household.

Buckingham was out of the country, which always made me feel happier. He was trying to persuade Richelieu to join him against the Spaniards, so he said. I wondered whether he was still hankering after my sister-in-law Queen Anne and whether his little jaunt was to try to win her favor. After that incident in the gardens when she had had to scream for help, I believed Buckingham was capable of anything.

The Duchesse de Chevreuse provided a little bit of liveliness to the scene when she gave birth to a child. Whose? I wondered, and so did many more.

She was quite blatant about it and the Duc de Chevreuse acted as though the child were his. He must have been used to her little ways and that they should sometimes produce consequences should not be a matter for surprise.

Then Buckingham returned, apparently somewhat deflated. His plans had gone awry. I guessed they would. He could hardly win favor in France after his disgraceful conduct with the Queen. Moreover I think he was not the man to succeed at anything but winning the doting affection of men like King James and the friendship of young inexperienced men like King Charles. I wished that Charles was not so devoted to him. I believed they discussed me and my relationship with my husband and I began to suspect that Buckingham sowed seeds of discord in my husband’s mind. Not that Buckingham would dare openly attack me. But he must be a master of the subtle suggestion, and I had noticed that when he was absent there seemed to be less conflict between me and Charles.

When we were alone in our bedchamber Charles would be quite affectionate; he would even smile faintly and express his satisfaction with my person and forget for a while how unsatisfactory I was in other ways, so when I wanted to make appointments in my household I decided that the best time to approach him was during one of those bedtime tête-à-têtes. I wanted to assure the position of some of my attendants and I could only do this by appointing them to vacant posts.

I had taken a great deal of trouble to draw up a list, and I had been careful to add some English names to it. In fact I had rather cleverly—I thought—intermingled them skillfully which had the effect of diminishing the number of French I had included.

I was in bed and Charles had just joined me. He had turned to me and laid his arm about me when I said: “I have a paper here which I want you to look at.”

“A paper?” he said in astonishment. “Now?”

“It is just a small list of those I wish to be officers in my retinue.”

“Well, I will look at it in the morning. But you know that according to the agreement with your brother which we made at the time of our marriage, it is my right to name such people.”

“Oh, you will agree to these,” I said lightly. “There are a number of English names there as well as French.”

He raised himself on his elbow and looked at me and although I could not see him very clearly in the dim light, I knew that he had assumed that stern and suspicious demeanor.

“There will be no French in your retinue,” he said coldly. “It would be quite impossible for them to serve in that capacity.”

“Why not?”

“Because it is my will that they should not.”

“But,” I retorted angrily, “it is my will that they should. My mother wishes these people to be admitted into my retinue.”

“It is no affair of your mother’s.”

“And none of mine?” I asked defiantly.

“None of yours,” he said. “If it is not my will then it cannot be yours.”

I was so angry. If I could have done so I would have risen from the bed and made my preparations to return to France. We sat up in bed glaring at each other.

I cried: “Then take back your lands. Take them all…lands…castles…everything you have bestowed on me. If I have no power to act in them as I wish, I have no desire to possess them.”

He said slowly but very distinctly: “You must remember to whom you speak. I am your King. You are my Queen but also a subject. You should take heed of the fate of other Queens of England.”

I could scarcely believe my ears. Was he reminding me of the ill-fated Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard? Could it be that Charles, whom I had always thought of as gentle and kindly meaning, was telling me that if I did not behave as he wished I might lose my head.

I felt enraged and insulted. I began to weep—not quietly but stormily. I said I was utterly miserable and longed to be back in France. I was nothing here. I was insulted and maltreated. I was given a household but I had no power in it. I wanted to go home. While I was saying all this he was trying to placate me.

“Listen to me,” he said.

“I want to hear no more,” I cried. “The more I hear the more miserable I become. Why do you use me so? Am I not the daughter of a great King? My brother is King of France. If my family but knew!”

He said: “Your family know full well that you are being treated here in accordance with your deserts. Your brother has sent Blainville here to try to reason with you.”

“I have been unused to such treatment,” I wailed. “I hate it here. I want to go home. I will write to my brother….”

“Much good that will do you.”

“To my mother…. She will understand.”

He was silent for a while and I grew tired of talking to what seemed like no one. I slid down and buried my face in the pillow.

There was a long silence. Then he sighed and lay down too.

After a while he said: “I will say this and that is an end to the matter: You cannot fill posts in your retinue with your French servants. These posts must be filled by English people. You have become the Queen of England and the sooner you realize it, the better for you and all concerned.”

With that he pretended to sleep and I ceased to cry.

Later he turned to me and was very tender.

But I knew I had lost the battle.

The next climax which arose was due to the coronation. Charles of course had only become King just before our marriage and in accordance with custom his coronation should take place soon after he came to the throne. His had been delayed because of the plague but with the beginning of the next year London seemed safe again and plans went ahead with great speed, for a coronation has a special significance. It is only when a King has been anointed and crowned that the people feel he is truly King.

So Charles was of course eager to be crowned.

I was the Queen and I should be crowned with him, but I could see all sorts of difficulties, for how could I—a Catholic—be crowned in a Protestant ceremony.

I discussed the matter with my French attendants and of course with Father Sancy. He was adamant. I most certainly must not be crowned in a Protestant church and indeed I should not even attend the coronation.

“Then I shall not be crowned Queen,” I pointed out.

“Only when you receive the crown in the true Faith,” he said.

Charles was bewildered at first when he heard my views on the matter; then he was very angry.

“Do you mean to say you refuse to be crowned?”

“In a Protestant church, yes.”

“You are mad,” he said. “Do you value your crown so little?”

“I value my Faith more,” I replied dramatically.

“You must be the first Queen who has refused to be crowned,” he said. “Do you realize that it will be said you have no firm hold on it?”

“What would God say if I allowed myself to take part in such a mockery?”

That was when he became really angry. “Be silent,” he cried. “Don’t dare talk so in my presence.”

He was really rather frightening then. He went away and left me. I think he was afraid he might do me some harm.

It was an extraordinary state of affairs and everyone was talking about it. The Queen would not have a coronation! The English thought I was mad; and they were annoyed with me, too, looking upon my attitude as some insult to them; but my own attendants applauded me. Even Mamie did not condemn the action, but she did say she thought it was unwise.

As for the Comte de Blainville, he was astounded, although Catholic as he was he should have understood. It meant, of course, that if I did not go he could not either. He said he would have risked the small strain to his conscience, which was meant I supposed to be a mild reproof to me. But he did add that as I was not to be crowned he could hardly be there.

Charles tried once or twice to reason with me but I refused to listen.

“The people may well take this as an insult to them and their Church. It will not make you very popular with them.”

“I care nothing for their regard,” I said.

“Then you are even more foolish than I thought” was his terse reply.

On another occasion he tried to persuade me at least to be present in the Abbey. He would have a latticed box made where I could sit unseen.

“No,” I cried vehemently. “It would be wrong for me to be in such a place.”

He spoke to me no more of the matter, but I knew that he was very displeased and that the people in the streets discussed it and said some very unflattering things about me.

However I refused to be dismayed. In those days I had the gift of persuading myself that what I did was always right. Coronation Day was the second of February, which was Candlemas Day, one of the festivals of our Church, so while the coronation was in progress, we celebrated that; but I have to admit that afterward I could not resist watching the procession from a window in Whitehall Palace.

The King was very cool to me and I was beginning to feel a little uneasy because, although I was in fact Queen of England, I had not been crowned and I did not see how I ever could be until that day when I brought the whole country to the true Faith.

It was about a week after the coronation when the second Parliament of Charles’s reign was about to be opened and that meant a grand procession. Father Sancy said I might watch it from one of the windows of Whitehall Palace, but Buckingham in his interfering way suggested that I should see it better from his family’s house and his mother would be very happy if I joined her and the ladies of the Buckingham household.

I was very annoyed about this and wanted to refuse but I was feeling a little nervous because of all the fuss over the coronation.

Charles said he would escort me to the Buckingham residence and I was waiting for him to come, inwardly fuming because I had agreed to go to those I hated so much.

When it started to rain I saw through this a way out and when Charles came I touched my headdress, which was very elaborate, and looked melancholy.

He asked what was wrong and I said: “The rain will ruin this.”

He gave one of those faint smiles of his and I knew that he was thinking I was rather an adorable child in spite of all my naughtiness and he touched my shoulder gently and said: “Very well, remain here and watch the procession from Whitehall.”

I was delighted and settled down to do so, but very soon the Sieur de Blainville arrived. He looked very disturbed.

“Is it true, my lady,” he asked, “that you have refused to go to the Buckingham house to see the procession as arranged?”

“It is raining.”

“It has stopped.”

“Well, it was raining and I told the King it would spoil my headdress.”

“That will not be acceptable to Buckingham.”

“The King accepted it. He did not want me to spoil my headdress.”

“You must leave here at once,” he said. “I will conduct you there. Do you realize that the situation between our two countries is very uneasy. The King your brother, your mother, the Cardinal…they are all seeking friendship with your husband. You must forgive my saying so, my lady, but your conduct does not help to bring about what we want.”

He looked so serious and still a little worried about my action over the coronation that I said I would go with him at once.

So he immediately conducted me to the Buckingham house.

It is strange that when one does not mean to annoy one can do so more deeply than when one does. I had no idea that there could be such a storm over such a trivial matter. But of course it was Buckingham who made the mischief. When he saw that I was not with the King—so I heard from those present who had witnessed the scene—the Duke expressed great concern. He would know the real reason for my refusal to leave Whitehall Palace and that the rain had little to do with it. He was heard to tell the King that he could not hope to make much impression on Parliament if he allowed his own wife to flout him.

Charles was rather angry then. He took a great deal of notice of Buckingham, and the Duke was on such familiar terms with him that he never hesitated to give him a hint of criticism if he wanted to. The result was that Charles sent a messenger back to Whitehall to say that I was to leave at once, but by the time the messenger arrived I had already left with the Sieur de Blainville.

I knew what Buckingham’s comment was. He would point out that although I had refused the King’s request, I left immediately when commanded to do so by my fellow countryman.

In those days Charles was unsure of himself. He was very shy and always afraid of losing his dignity. Looking back I see it all so clearly now. Buckingham had been his father’s favorite and had made himself Charles’s mentor, so he always listened to him and took great heed of what he said. Now, because of Buckingham’s suggestions, Charles sent a message to me telling me I was to return to Whitehall Palace for if I could not come when he was there to escort me I should not remain there.

I was so thoughtless. It never occurred to me to try to understand the situation. I sent the messenger back to say that I preferred to remain where I was now, having made the journey in the company of the Sieur de Blainville.

There was no doubt of the sternness of the command which was brought back to me. I was to return to Whitehall without more ado.

I did realize then that this was blowing up into a storm and I thought it advisable to obey immediately, so back to Whitehall I went and, with my attendants, watched the procession from there as I had originally planned to do.

That was not the end of the matter.

I did not see the King for the rest of the day and that night he did not come to our bedchamber. In the morning there was a note from him stating that he was most distressed by my behavior and did not want to see me again until I begged his forgiveness for my conduct.

I was astounded. “What have I done?” I demanded of Mamie. She understood how the incident had been misconstrued. It was much ado about nothing, she said. I could easily explain my innocence to the King, tell him that I really had been concerned about my headdress and when the Sieur de Blainville had explained to me that I would be offending the Buckinghams I had taken his advice and gone with him.

“But it is all so silly,” I cried, stamping my foot in irritation. “What a fuss…and all about nothing. What did it matter how I went to the Buckinghams. I went, did I not? It was not that I wanted to, I can assure you.”

“There is so much formality to be observed in your position.”

“And wherever the Buckinghams are, there is trouble. Have you noticed that?”

“I have. But surely you can explain exactly how it happened. The King will believe you. Go to him and tell him.”

“Why shouldn’t he come to me?”

“He is the King and your husband.”

“I don’t intend to be his slave. He may be the son of a king, but I am the daughter of one…and my father was greater than his….”

“Hush, child. You talk too wildly. You must remember where you are. Remember your position. Oh, my dearest, sometimes you frighten me.”

“I will not be frightened by Buckingham, who is trying to make my husband hate me. Why, Mamie, why?”

“I think the Duke of Buckingham held complete sway over the King’s father and now seeks to be in the same position with regard to your husband. I think he sees how the King’s affection for you is growing and seeks to undermine it, lest you should have more influence on the King than he does.”

“The King’s affection for me! My influence on him! You are laughing at me, Mamie. What affection has he for me? What influence have I on him?”

“Both could grow. I am sure of that. The King is ready to love you. It is for you to cherish that love. Now go to him and explain what happened and I am sure he will forgive you.”

“But there is nothing to forgive, Mamie. Why should I grovel to him. Let him come and ask my pardon.”

“Kings do not ask pardon.”

“Nor do Queens.”

Mamie sighed. She knew my obstinacy.

A few days passed and still the King made no move to see me. I was surprised to find that I was somewhat piqued and that I missed him a little. I was impatient always and impulsive, and I hated long waiting and silences. So in due course I asked if he would see me.

The answer came back immediately. He would be most pleased to receive me.

When I stood before him I saw that his eyes shone with a certain pleasure. I knew that he was getting ready to forgive me when I told him I had done wrong, but I had done no wrong and I was not going to say so. All I wanted to do was end the waiting. I hated going to my apartment at night and not knowing whether he was going to join me. I did begin to wonder whether I wanted him to. All I knew was that I did not greatly enjoy those lonely nights of uncertainty.

I faced him boldly. I said: “I do not know what I have done to merit your displeasure. I had no intention of doing so. But if I have offended you I would ask you to forget it.”

I think he was as eager for reconciliation as I was, for he smiled that faint smile and embraced me.

“The incident is over and done with,” he said.

It was not, however, the end for poor Blainville. He was first of all not permitted to come to Court and as this was an impossible situation for an ambassador to find himself in he was recalled to France. I was very sorry for him. It had come about through no fault of his and I knew that he would be accused of failing in his duties when he returned home.

The Maréchal de Bassompierre was sent to England in his place. He had been a very old and faithful friend of my father and was in fact the man who had been betrothed to Charlotte de Montmorency and had given her up when my father had wanted to make her his mistress. He had served France well and I soon realized that I should get frank speaking from him. He made it clear that my behavior was not what it should be and that I would have to improve.

It was a trying time. In spite of all my protests, three Englishwomen had been made ladies of my bedchamber though none of my French servants had been dismissed. The English ladies were the Duchess of Buckingham and the Countesses of Denbigh and Carlisle.

Mamie felt it was ominous and I became aware of how worried she was.

I was less so, still confident of getting my own way. I was very sullen with the three new ladies-in-waiting for the first week or so and refused to speak to them except when it was absolutely necessary, but gradually I began to take notice of them for they were, I discovered, three unusual ladies.

Buckingham’s wife seemed to be quite interested in the Catholic Faith and began to ask me questions about it. She was by no means skeptical and I found that I quite enjoyed talking to her; I often wondered how she came to marry her odious husband but marriages were arranged for us poor females and we had to make the best of what came our way. Her sister-in-law the Countess of Denbigh also questioned me about the Faith, and they both listened attentively and were really interested in what I had to tell them. They were very deferential too and in spite of the fact that one was the wife of Buckingham and one his sister, I quite liked them. Best of the three though, I liked Lucy Hay, the Countess of Carlisle. She was a very interesting and beautiful woman. She was about ten years older than I and came from the Percy family, her father being the Earl of Northumberland. She had made a very romantic marriage after falling in love with James Hay who became the Earl of Carlisle. Her family had objected to the marriage and it would never have taken place but for the fact that her father had become a prisoner in the Tower of London and the Earl of Carlisle brought about his release, making it a condition that he marry Lucy. I liked her because she was outstandingly beautiful as well as being witty and amusing.

It was suddenly borne home to me that I could like some of the English and as long as none of the friends I had brought with me from France was sent away, I could welcome these three interesting ladies into my household.

In spite of the fact that I was growing quite fond of Buckingham’s wife and sister I hated him more than ever. I was convinced that he made the King dissatisfied with me and I became even more sure of this when Mamie came to me in some distress and told me he had talked to her.

“Of what?” I demanded.

“Of you and the King.”

“How dare he!”

“He would dare anything. The King can see no wrong in him. The fact is that Buckingham tells me the King is not at all satisfied with you.”

“You mean he has told Buckingham to inform you of this?” I could feel my temper rising.

“Now you must calm yourself. He says that you disappoint the King in the bedchamber.”

I felt myself go hot with shame and anger.

“How dare he!”

“He says it is what the King has confided in him. He says you seem affable enough during the day but at night you become distinctly cold, and that does not please the King.”

“It is for the King to make me affectionate toward him. I shall tell him he will not do so through his ambassador Buckingham.”

“I pray you be calm. Let us think of this clearly. How…how is it with you and the King?”

I burst out: “I should have thought that was a matter between the King and me…and us two only.”

“It is. It is. But you see the King has spoken to Buckingham.”

“Mamie,” I said, “do you really think the King has spoken to Buckingham…or is it one of the Duke’s fabrications?”

She was thoughtful. Then she said: “If you tell me that all is well between you and the King…at night….”

“As far as I know. I submit…though I do not like it very much.”

“Perhaps that is not enough.”

“But to tell Buckingham….”

“If he did,” put in Mamie.

“Mamie, I know that the King and I will never be happy together while Buckingham is here. I am certain that he is going to do everything he can to drive us apart.”

“And if there were no Buckingham…do you think that you could grow to love the King?”

“I don’t know. Life seemed so much happier when Buckingham was not here.”

“You are not dissatisfied with your new bedchamber ladies?”

“No. I like them very much. Particularly Lucy.”

“We must not allow Buckingham to influence the King.”

“How shall we stop him?”

“I don’t know but we can pray for a miracle.”

I was deeply disturbed that the King had spoken of our most intimate relationship with the Duke. But had he? I could not be really sure of this and for once I did not jump to conclusions. But I was more and more wary of Buckingham and I was beginning to believe that but for him we might have avoided quite a number of the storms which had blown up and were threatening to wreck our marriage.

That last affair was, I was sure, a result of his interference.

His determination to harm me was becoming even more obvious. One day he dared ask for a private audience with me. Reluctantly I gave it and immediately wished I had not. He was an extremely handsome man—indeed he owed his rise to power to his personal appearance—and his confidence gave him an air of royalty. I was sure he thought himself of far greater importance than anyone at Court—even the King himself.

He quickly threw off the formalities and began to talk to me very intimately in a manner which infuriated me more and more every second.

“I know, my dear lady, that the relationship between you and the King is not quite what it should be. Oh, you are beautiful, there is no doubt of that…and you are regal being the daughter of a king, but you are young…so very young….”

“I grow older every day, sir,” I told him with some asperity, “and my vision grows clearer.”

He laughed rather heartily.

“Dearest lady, you are enchanting. I know where the complaint lies.”

“Complaint, sir. Of what complaint do you speak?”

“You are so fresh, so young, so innocent. Naturally, I tell the King you need to be guided in the ways of love.”

I was too astonished to speak.

“Love!” he said. “Ah, one needs to be skilled in the art to discover its full delights. Perhaps the King is more practiced in the realms of state than in the bedchamber. Perhaps…”

He had moved nearer to me and there was no mistaking the gleam in his eyes. Was this, I wondered, how he had approached my sister-in-law? What was he suggesting? That I learn how to be what he called “satisfactory” with Charles through Buckingham?

It was monstrous. What would Charles think of this subject of his if I told him what Buckingham had suggested to me…well, not so much suggested as implied.

“My Lord Buckingham,” I cried shrilly, “stand away from me. Your conduct is atrocious. I wonder what the King will say when I tell him what you have suggested to me.”

He stood back, his eyebrows raised, his face a mask of bewilderment. “My lady, I do not understand you. Suggested? What do you think I have suggested?”

“Your remarks about matters which are completely between the King and myself are offensive.”

“Forgive me…I just thought a little word—That was all that was in my mind. I swear it. What could you have imagined? You must realize that I have no idea why you should be so offended.”

The man was a monster, a snake in the grass and I must beware of his venom.

“I merely wished to talk to you about your attitude to the faith which prevails in this country. I merely wanted to advise you. The matter of the Countess of Denbigh’s service at Tichfield….”

“That is long ago. The Countess bears no rancor and has now become my friend.”

“I am happy about that as it brings me to another matter which I know gives the King a great deal of concern. He wants you to send your French attendants back to France.”

“That is something I shall never do.”

“You would find many English ladies who would be happy to replace them.”

“I am very happy as we are. Thank you for your concern. But it is my affair as to whom I shall choose to serve me.”

“I trust that you speak a little English now that you have three English ladies of the bedchamber.”

“I do, but there again I do not see that it is any great concern of yours.”

“I speak only for your own good. My great wish is to please you.”

“Then,” I said firmly, “I will tell you how you may give me the greatest pleasure. It is very simple. All you have to do is go.”

With that he went, leaving me very uneasy.

I should have realized that we were working toward a climax, but my trouble in those days was that I never looked beyond the immediate moment. If I scored a little victory I thought I had won the war—though why there should be a war between husband and wife I cannot now see.

It was June and we were at Whitehall. The afternoon was warm and beautiful—just the day for taking a walk in the park near the palace. Father Sancy walked with me and he was admonishing me for some petty demeanor. I was not listening to him but thinking how beautiful the trees were and what a lovely day it was. Mamie was walking on the other side of me when we strayed away from the park. We came to the gallows at Tyburn, which had always filled me with horror because so many people had died miserably there—some, I knew, for their Faith. It was not long ago when those good Catholics who had set out to blow up the Houses of Parliament had died most brutally. All they had wished to do was establish the Catholic Faith in this heretic land, which was what I wanted to do.

I mentioned this. Mamie frowned. She hated me to speak in this way. She was a good Catholic, of course, but she was more ready to respect the beliefs of others than I was. Father Sancy grew rather fierce talking of the people who had died for their faith at Tyburn and suggested that we approach and say a short prayer for their souls.

So I agreed and we did so.

I suppose nothing a queen does can go unnoticed. Of course I was seen and as I appeared to have enemies everywhere, the incident was embellished and distorted out of all proportion to what had actually taken place. Stories were circulated about the Court and the city. I heard that I had done penance at Tyburn; I had walked barefoot carrying a candle. I had set up an altar there; I had said Mass; I had prayed to the Virgin and the saints for the souls of those I called Martyrs and whom the English called criminals.

“Lies!” I cried. “Lies…it is all lies.”

But it was strange how many people were ready to believe it.

The King questioned me about it. I told him what had actually happened.

“Unfortunate,” he said. “Most unfortunate. Why did you have to walk to such a place?”

“I don’t know,” I cried. “We just arrived there.”

I could see that he did not believe me.

He took me by the shoulders and shook me gently. “You must try to understand,” he said with mild exasperation.

I said: “I won’t go near the place again. It’s horrible. I hate it. I feel as though I hear the cries of all those who suffered there.”

“They suffered there because they were criminals,” he said tersely.

“Not all,” I cried. “Not all. Some suffered for their Faith.”

“It would be considered quite amusing for a Catholic to complain about the wrongs done to others for the simple reason that they are of a different faith from their persecutors.”

I was silent then. I was only trying to explain what had actually happened at Tyburn.

He muttered: “It is that priest of yours. He is nothing more than a spy. He shall be sent away. Your entire retinue encourages you to behave as you do.”

Then he left me. He was really very angry but I thought it was such a shame that he should be prepared to listen to the stories about me and seem to believe those who circulated them rather than me, his own wife.

I was very angry and hurt. To cheer me my friends said that we should have a little entertainment in my apartments at Whitehall and so they brought in their music and we tried some new dances, becoming very merry.

I suppose we made a fair amount of noise. I know we were all laughing rather loudly and I was dancing with one of the gentlemen of my household when the door opened suddenly and the King stood on the threshold.

Everything stopped and the silence was so intense that it made me want to scream out for them to start the music again. I looked at him. I was holding my partner’s hand, for that was what the dance demanded, and I could see that the King thought my conduct most indecorous.

He did not speak immediately but stood still looking at us. Then he walked over to me. Everyone watched because he seemed to walk very slowly. He took me by the hand and said “Come.” That was all. Then he led me to his apartment, which was next to mine, and when we were there he locked the door.

I looked at him questioningly.

He said: “I have something to say to you. I have been meaning to tell you for some little time that those who came with you from France will now be returning there.”

I stared at him in astonishment. I stammered: “What? When…?”

He answered: “Immediately. It is all arranged. I am sure the trouble between us comes from their influence. The sooner they are back in their own land the better for us all.”

“No!” I cried.

“But yes,” he answered, and added soothingly: “You will see that it is the best thing.”

“I will not allow it,” I said fiercely.

“Now,” he went on in the same soothing manner, “you must not be so foolish.”

I moved toward the door. “It is locked,” he said. “I have the key.”

“Then open the door. I want to go to them. I want to tell them what you are preparing for them. It was agreed at the marriage settlement that they should stay with me.”

“The French have not always adhered to the terms of the marriage settlement, and I am weary of these people who do nothing but cause trouble. Your confessor is all the time stirring up strife. It was he who took you to Tyburn and advised you to act as you did. He is going back to France at once…and the whole pack with him.”

“No,” I said faintly, for a terrible fear was gripping me and I was thinking of all my dear ones but most of all my beloved Mamie.

“Let me go to them,” I pleaded.

“You will not see them again,” he replied firmly.

I stared at him aghast, and he went on: “They are leaving Whitehall today. Even at this moment the carriages are waiting to take them.”

“To…take them where?”

“Where they can be housed until arrangements are made to ship them back to France.”

To ship them to France! He talked of them as though they were bales of wool…my beloved friends…the people who made life here tolerable for me.

“I will not let them go,” I cried.

“My dear wife,” he said, “try to be reasonable. It is better that they go. It is better that you and I learn to love each other so that no others—save the children we shall have—can be of the same importance to us.”

“I cannot believe this. You are doing it to tease me.”

He shook his head. “It is true. They must go. There will never be peace between us two while they remain. Come with me.”

He took me to the window. Carriages were drawn up there and I saw that my friends were being directed into them.

“No. No.” I began to cry. I wrenched myself away from him because I had seen Mamie down there being put into a carriage.

“Mamie!” I whispered. “Oh…Mamie….” Then I started to call her loudly, but she could not hear me. She looked desperately unhappy.

Frantically I beat on the window.

“Don’t go. Don’t go,” I screamed. “Don’t let them do this.”

The window pane cracked. I heard the sound of tinkling glass and there was blood on my hands.

Charles had me by the shoulders. “Stop it,” he cried. “Stop it.”

“I will not. I will not. I hate England. I hate you all. You are taking away from me those I love.”

I slipped out of his grasp and sat on the floor sobbing as I heard the carriages drive away.

I was alone. Charles had gone and I heard him turn the key in the lock. I sat there on the floor, my hands covering my face, more desolate than I had ever been in my life.

I don’t know how long I sat there before the door opened quietly and Lucy Hay came in. She did not speak for a moment but helped me rise and putting her arm about me led me to the window seat. She smoothed back my hair as though I were a child, and when I put my head on her shoulder she held me tightly, saying nothing but somehow giving me the comfort I sorely needed.

After a while I said: “They have gone…my dear, dear Mamie has been taken from me.”

She nodded.

I said: “I hate those who have taken her from me.”

Still she did not speak though she knew I was referring to the King.

We just sat there in that room with the broken window and I told her how Mamie had been with me since I was a child and how she had taught me so much and how we had laughed together.

Finally she said: “It happens to Queens. It is their sad fate.”

I knew then that she understood perfectly and that I could not have borne it if she had told me I must try to forget them. How could I ever forget Mamie?

She went on: “They are being taken to Somerset House and they will stay there until arrangements are made. They are being well looked after.”

A little later she led me back to my apartments and I asked her to stay with me, which she did.

I blamed Buckingham, my arch enemy, the author of my sorrows. It was true that he was in France at this time, making trouble there, but I knew that it was he who had instilled in Charles’s mind the need to rob me of my friends and that he taunted him with allowing me to have too much of my own way. Oh yes, Buckingham was the enemy.

I missed Mamie so much. I realized what wisdom she had tried to pass on to me and I bitterly regretted that I had not paid more attention.

I was turning more and more to my three ladies—oddly enough the Buckinghams—but most of all to Lucy. She was a great comfort to me during those days. She was so much wiser than I and she reminded me very much of dear Mamie. Her advice was very similar. Be calm. Think before you act…before you speak even.

I knew it was sound advice. I wondered if I could ever be disciplined enough to follow it.

When I saw the letter Charles had written to Buckingham I was so incensed that I almost tore it into pieces and threw it out of the window. I wished I had done so and then I should have delighted in telling Charles of my act.

I don’t know how he could have been so careless, but I supposed he had thought it was safe in his own apartments. It was lying on a table just as he had written it, and slipping into the room I saw it.

“Steenie,” he had written.

“Steenie!” I said aloud scornfully. It was absurd how Charles doted on the fellow. He was as weak as his father. What was wrong with these Stuarts? Weaklings, that was what they were. Mary, the Queen of Scots, Charles’s grandmother had been foolish—so much so that she had lost her head at Fotheringay.

I went on to read the letter.

“I writ to you by Ned Clarke that I thought I should have cause enough, in a short time, to put away the monsers….”

I ground my teeth. He meant by “monsers,” monsieurs, my French attendants.

“Either by their attempting to steal away my wife or by making plots with my own subjects. For the first I cannot say whether it was intended; but I am sure it is hindered; for the other, though I have good grounds to believe it, and am still hunting after it, yet seeing daily the maliciousness of the monsers by making and fomenting discontents in my wife. I could tarry no longer in advertising to you that I mean to seek for no other grounds…. Advertise the Queen Mother of my intentions….

“I pray you send me word with what speed you may whether ye like this course or not. I shall put nothing of this into execution until I hear from you…. I am resolved it shall be done and shortly. So longing to see you, I rest.

“Your loving and constant friend

“Charles R.”

I was furious. They were talking about my friends, my happiness. And he would do nothing until my Lord Buckingham gave his permission! Oh yes, Buckingham was the evil spirit who had ruined my happiness. I hated him.

It soon became clear that Buckingham approved of the measure Charles was taking against me, for it was not long before all my dear friends left for France.

Lucy took the trouble to send someone along the river to Somerset House that I might know how my friends left.

There was a little trouble, she told me. When all the barges were there to take them away, the people crowded into the streets and along the river to watch them go. At first my dear friends declared they would not leave for they had not been properly discharged and were here on the terms of the marriage treaty. The King had to send a strong body of yeomen with heralds and trumpeters and they were told that His Majesty’s orders were that they were to leave without more ado. Mamie was very upset. She wept and explained that she had sworn never to leave me.

Dear Mamie. I knew she would do that.

“One of the mob threw a stone at her,” Lucy said.

“At Mamie!” I cried in horror.

“It was all right. She was not hurt. It just knocked her cap off and the man who had thrown it was killed on the spot. One of the soldiers drew his sword and ran it through the man’s body. Then, weeping, Mamie allowed herself to be put into the barge.”

So that was the end. They had left me.

I could not eat. I could not sleep. I could only think of my dear friends who were lost to me and most of all of my beloved Mamie who, I knew, would be heartbroken.

When Charles came to me I refused to speak to him. I see now how patient he was, how sorry that this had happened; but he was firmly convinced (and Buckingham had made him certain of this) that all the trouble between us came from my French retinue.

I would let him see that their dismissal had made everything more difficult between us.

He told me that all my servants had not gone yet and he was arranging for one of the nurses and Madame Vantelet to stay—also a few of my servants. It was a slight concession for none of these people was particularly close and all held minor posts, so this did little to alleviate my grief.

“I want to see my confessor,” I cried.

I knew that Father Sancy had either gone or was going. He would have a fine story to tell them when he returned to France.

“I will send Father Philip to you,” said Charles.

I brightened a little. I was fond of Father Philip, who was much less stern than Father Sancy, and I would be pleased to see him.

He came and talked to me and we prayed together; he said that there were many crosses to bear in this world and I had just been presented with one of them. I must carry it bravely and keep my eyes on the goal, which was to spread the Truth wherever I was and always remain steadfast in following the true Faith.

I felt much better and later Charles told me that Father Philip might stay.

I was pleased to hear that, but I did not tell Charles so. I felt in no mood to give him any satisfaction.

One of the hardest things to bear was that François de Bassompierre was not entirely on my side. I had expected condolences from him when in desperation the King sent for him to try to reason with me.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “I must talk to you most frankly. I know you will allow me—as a loyal subject of your father and one whom he regarded as a close friend—to say exactly what is in my mind.”

My spirits sank. My experience told me that when people declared they were going to speak frankly something unpleasant was certain to follow.

“I have seen you in the presence of the King,” he went on, “and it appears to me that His Majesty has tried to do everything within his power to make you happy.”

“Such as depriving me of my friends,” I cried petulantly.

“It is the custom when a princess comes to a new country for those who accompanied her on the journey to return in due course to their native land.”

“Why? Why shouldn’t anyone…most of all a queen…keep her friends about her if she wishes to.”

“Because, Majesty, they do not always understand the customs of the new country and it is the duty of a princess to adopt those customs as she has become a member of that country.”

“I am French. I shall never be anything else.”

He sighed. “That I fear is at the root of the trouble.”

“How can you ask me to become one of these people? They are heretics.”

“Adequate arrangements have been made for you to worship as you wish, and I see that the King has kept his word in seeing that these are carried out.”

“And taken away my confessor!”

“I did not think you cared greatly for Father Sancy and Father Philip is left to you.”

I was silent. It was true that I greatly preferred Father Philip to Father Sancy.

“Oh,” I cried. “Can’t you see! I have been robbed of those I loved most.”

“You are thinking of your governess. She understands. She is sad, but she is not lost to you. You can write to each other and no doubt she will pay a visit to these shores at some time and you may come to France. Then you will have an opportunity of meeting.”

I felt exasperated. What compensations were letters and the occasional visit for the hours of confidences and fun which Mamie and I had shared?

Bassompierre went on to lecture me. He could see that the trouble between the King and myself was largely due to my attitude. If I could only be reasonable…try to adjust myself…much progress could be made. The King was fond of me. He wanted to be more fond. He would do a great deal to make me happy, but my demands were childish and he was the King on whom state duties weighed heavily. I was not helping him nor myself by my conduct. I was self-willed, said Bassompierre. My father would not have been pleased with me if he were here today. I was impulsive; I spoke before I thought what I was saying; I must try to curb my temper.

I scowled at him and he went on: “It is not merely yourself you have to consider. Do you realize that your actions are causing strife between France and England?”

“They do not need me to bring strife between them. It has been there for centuries.”

“There was friendship. The marriage was meant to make that firm, and it should have done so, had you behaved in a manner which your great father would have expected you to. Instead you have made this petty war between your faction and that of the King with the result that they are all dismissed…banished…because they have been fomenting strife between you and the King.”

“You think I and my friends are to blame. You should be on my side. I thought you were French and would stand by me.”

“I am French and I will stand by you but there is much you must do for yourself. You must change your attitude toward the King.”

“Shouldn’t he change his toward me?”

Bassompierre sighed. “He is willing to do much for you.”

“Will he send back my friends?”

“You know you ask for the impossible.”

“I never thought you would turn against me.”

He was on his knees, taking my hand and kissing it. He was for me, he declared. He would do anything for me. That was why with great temerity he was telling me exactly what he believed without subterfuge, and he hoped I would see it in the way it was meant and forgive him if he had offended.

He was so handsome, and contrite in a way while adhering to his principles, that I smiled and said: “Get up, François. I know that you do what you do and say for my good. But if only you knew how tired I am of having things done for my good.”

He smiled. I was the dear, adorable child once more.

I was sure he thought that now we had passed through the emotional preliminaries he could talk seriously to me. This he began to do. The situation between England and France was becoming dangerous. The English were very unpopular in France and the return of my attendants had made them more so. Some of them who had served me were circulating rumors about the way in which I was treated in England and my countrymen were becoming incensed.

“If the Duke of Buckingham set foot in France now he would be torn to pieces by the mob.”

“A befitting end for the monster,” I commented.

“And imagine the effect that would have on the King. Why, it could result in war.”

I was silent.

“You see, my dear lady, many eyes are on you and this marriage. Your mother…your brother…they look to you to strengthen the bonds of friendship between the two countries. They will be very sad to hear the stories which your attendants are circulating.”

“It is well that they should know.”

“But you have nothing of which to complain. You have been treated royally. The King has shown you every consideration.”

“By taking away from me those I loved best!”

He was exasperated. “I have explained, my lady, that it is the custom for attendants to return home after a certain period. You cannot say that you—or they—have been ill treated here. Now let me explain what is happening in France. In the villages and the towns they are talking about the ills which have befallen their Princess. They speak as though you have been confined to prison and kept on bread and water.”

“I wouldn’t mind that if I could have Mamie with me.”

“Do try to understand. Let me explain to you that one girl, obviously deranged, has been to a convent in Limoges and asked for shelter there. She called herself the Princesse Henriette de Bourbon and told some garbled story about having escaped from England and cruel King Charles because she was persecuted there in an effort to make her give up her Faith. I can tell you this: Thousands of people are flocking to Limoges to see this girl. They believe her and are crying vengeance on King Charles of England.”

“Surely it is easy to prove she is a fraud.”

“To any who have knowledge of Courts, of course, but these are simple people and she is succeeding in deluding them. The King, your brother, is extremely angry. He has other matters with which to occupy himself. The Huguenots are causing a great deal of trouble.”

“Tell me more of the girl. I should like to see her. Is she like me?”

“She passes herself off well, I hear. She has a certain dignity and seems to know something of the English Court. Your brother has made a declaration that the girl is an impostor and that you are living amicably with your husband in England where you are given every dignity due to a queen.”

I was silent.

He went on: “She has been proved in a public trial to be a fraud. She has done a penance through the streets carrying a lighted taper and is now in prison. But that does not mean that certain people do not continue to believe her.” He bent toward me. “Please, Your Majesty, will you try to do your duty here. Do you see how easily great trouble could arise from your actions? I am sure you would not wish to be responsible for a war and to know that innocent blood was being shed because of your willful actions.”

He did succeed in making me realize how important some trivial actions of mine might be. I said I would remember what he had told me and he went away a little happier than he had been on his arrival.

After my talk with François de Bassompierre I did try to be a little more affable to Charles and I must admit that he was only too ready to meet me in this. We became friends again and without Mamie to confide in and Father Sancy to point out the iniquities of heretics we did seem to be happier together.

He was very preoccupied at this time with affairs of state. He was more serious than ever and wanted so much to rule the country well. I heard him say that he and Steenie could manage very well without a parliament. It was Kings who had been chosen by God to rule not men who set themselves up—although they declared they had been elected by their fellow men—to say what should and should not be done.

Looking back now I can see quite clearly the danger signals even at that time beginning to show. I was not very interested in politics, but I did know that there was a great deal of trouble in France and that somehow the English were not exactly aloof from it.

Cardinal Richelieu had more or less taken over the reins of government, and it seemed that my brother—who had never been a very forceful character—was glad for him to do this. But my mother, who was a born intrigante, had become the center of an opposing faction. The Cardinal was a very strong man but even he had his difficulties when he was surrounded by those who would be ready to stab him in the back.

I thought a great deal about Buckingham, whom I hated violently for I really believed he was the cause of the unhappiness I had endured since I came to this country.

He was very unpopular I was glad to note. I always said he owed his rise to power to his good looks and certainly not to his performance in state matters. He would have been impeached if Charles had not saved him. He had failed in an expedition to Cadiz. Why he should have imagined himself as a military commander I could not say. He had no talent for command. He could hardly be impeached for failure in war, but accusations of other crimes were brought against him. Charles saved him by dissolving Parliament. What did he want a parliament for? he would say. He could govern on his own.

Buckingham loved the applause of the crowd and wanted to regain his popularity so he began making a great show of his sympathy for the Huguenots who at that time were being a nuisance to my brother. In fact they were more than merely vociferous and the country was becoming weakened by civil war.

Buckingham wanted to send help to the Huguenot citizens of Rochelle who were being blockaded by my brother; this naturally meant a declaration of war between France and England.

I was most distressed. What a terrible position for a queen to find herself in: her husband at war with her brother! I thought constantly of my dear friends who had been torn away from me and although I was generally able to shut my mind to what I thought of as stupid politics, it was hardly possible to do so at this time.

Charles and I were becoming more friendly, and he even talked a little about what was on his mind. He was always against the Parliament. What right had these men to tell a king what he should do? He was constantly asking that question.

“I would go without a parliament altogether,” he said, “but I have to get them to grant me money. How can we carry on the country’s affairs without money?”

He believed that he and his beloved Steenie could manage very well without those dreary men who were always putting obstacles in the way.

He tried raising money without the aid of Parliament by making every one of his subjects pay a tax. If they refused they were imprisoned. He raised an army and the men were billeted in private houses whether the owners wanted them or not. Fortunately they blamed this on Buckingham. How they hated that man! I would laugh inwardly every time I saw a sign of this. Charles, however, continued to love him. It used to make me so angry when I heard his voice soften as he said his name.

In spite of all his efforts Charles found it necessary to call Parliament, which immediately made him surrender his right to billet soldiers in private houses and to exact loans without the consent of Parliament.

How he raged against them! But he needed their help if he was going to take part in the siege of Rochelle, and he was forced to accept their terms.

I was relieved when the siege of Rochelle was over and ended in triumph for the French, partly because in my heart I liked to see my own countrymen triumphant and because it was another failure for my old enemy Buckingham. I was so delighted when I heard him reviled. There were satires and pasquinades written about him and stuck on buildings all over the country.

To try to make the people like him again and to show how he upheld the Protestant Faith he started to plan a new expedition. This time it was to relieve the people of Rochelle.

He came to see Charles, and I don’t think he was very pleased to realize how much better we were getting on. He was delighted, of course, that I had lost my friends; and I wondered what fresh unpleasantness he could plot against me when he was free from his present project, for at that time he was concerned with little else but his expedition to Rochelle and he was going down to Portsmouth to make sure that all the provisions and ammunition they would need were on board.

Charles came to me after he had left.

“Steenie is in a strange mood,” he said. “I have never seen him gloomy before. He is usually so sure of success.”

“His lack of success has probably made him doubt his powers after all. In which case it would be a good thing, for it is always well to see oneself as one really is rather than how one would wish to be.”

Charles was a little hurt as always when I criticized his beloved Steenie, but he refused to be drawn into an argument and ceased to talk of Buckingham and became my loving husband.

It was not long after that when it happened.

The King was prostrate with grief and I was very sorry for him because I knew what it meant to lose someone one loved perhaps as deeply as one had ever loved anyone. Had I not lost my own beloved Mamie?

It was ironic that the King who had robbed me of my dearest companion should now find that fate had robbed him of his.

William Laud brought the news from Portsmouth. Laud was a priest and a great favorite of both Charles and Buckingham. My husband had shown him great favor and perhaps because Buckingham had thought so highly of him, he had made him a privy councillor and promised him the Bishopric of London. He was already Bishop of Bath and Wells. He had grown very friendly with Buckingham because Buckingham’s mother had shown signs of becoming too interested in the Catholic Faith and Charles had sent Laud to be her priest and bring her back to Protestantism. This Laud had tried to do, and while he was under Buckingham’s roof had formed a great friendship with the Duke, and as the King liked to share everything with his Steenie, Laud was his friend too.

So it was Laud who came with the news.

There was tension throughout Whitehall. I had never seen the King look as he did then. His face was quite devoid of color and his eyes stared ahead disbelievingly as though pleading with someone—the Almighty, I suppose—to tell him that it was not true.

But it was true.

“He had a presentiment that death was close to him,” Laud told us. “He called me to him the night before. He was very serious and Your Majesty knows that was not like him. He begged me, Your Majesty, to commend him to you and request you take care of his wife and family.”

“Oh, Steenie,” murmured the King, “as if I would fail you!”

“I said to him,” went on Laud, “‘Why do you say this? You have never before suggested that you are going to die. I have never seen you, my Lord, but when you are full of high hopes and good spirits.’ He answered me, ‘Some adventure may kill me. Others have been killed before me.’ I said to him, ‘Is it an assassin you fear?’ And he nodded. I suggested that he wear a shirt of mail under his clothes, but he laughed the idea to scorn. ‘That would not protect me against the fury of the mob,’ he said. So he would take no precautions.”

“Oh, Steenie,” moaned the King.

I wanted to know how it had happened, every detail. The King covered his face with his hands while I asked the questions. Laud whispered to me that the King could not bear to hear more.

I could very well bear to hear more. I could listen and exult so I insisted that he proceed.

“He was staying at the house of Captain Mason in the High Street,” said Laud. “It was convenient for the supervision of the loading. His Duchess was staying at the house with him before he sailed. He had come down to breakfast and partaken heartily of it. Then he went into the hall and paused for a moment to exchange a word or two with Sir Thomas Tryer who had come to see him. Suddenly a man stepped forward. He cried out: “God have mercy on thy soul!” and brandishing a knife he thrust it into the Duke’s left breast.”

The King moaned softly and I went to him and took his hand. He pressed mine warmly.

“The Duke himself withdrew the knife,” went on Laud. “He was bleeding profusely and there was blood spattered everywhere. My Lord Duke took two steps as though to go after the man. He cried, ‘Villain!’ and then fell to the floor. The Duchess came running into the hall. Poor lady, she is three months with child. She knelt beside him, but he was dying and I could see there was nothing we could do. I gave him what comfort I could and it was then that he again begged me to commend him to you and ask you to look after his family.”

The King was still too overwrought to speak.

I said: “Have they caught the assassin?”

“Yes, a certain John Felton—a discharged officer who thought he had a grievance, and when the House of Commons showed their disapproval of the Duke he believed he was doing his country a service.”

He was, I thought. Oh good John Felton!

But I had learned my lessons. I said nothing; and then I devoted my time to attempting to comfort the King.

How strange it was that the man who had done so much to drive a wedge between us in life, in death should be the means of bringing us together.

I understood Charles’s grief so much and because for once I could see through someone else’s eyes, I could console him, because his was the greater pain. Steenie had gone for ever but I could still write to Mamie and I hoped to see her one day.

He talked to me a great deal about Steenie and I had to control my impulses to say something derogatory about him, and then after a while I saw how comforting it was for him to talk about this beloved friend whose faults he could not and never would see.

Life for him had lost its savor and it seemed that I was the one who could make up for that. I took a great pleasure in this and he could hardly bear to be away from me. I felt tender toward him. I sensed a certain weakness in him and instead of being critical of it, it endeared him to me.

I treated him as though he were my child instead of my husband and he was grateful for that. Charles was not a man who enjoyed exerting his will. He was serious in his intentions to do right; he wanted to be a good ruler and a good husband. He had not enjoyed sending away my attendants but he had done so because he had thought it was the best for us all.

I began to understand so much and each day I looked forward to our talks, and at night, in the privacy of our bedchamber, I think we truly became lovers.

I began to wonder whether there had been two reasons why we had had such a stormy beginning to our married life. One was undoubtedly Buckingham and the other…could it really have been my attendants? Sancy had led me into some difficult situations culminating in the visit to Tyburn; my ladies had always reminded me that I was a French-woman among the English, and a Catholic in an alien land.

Of course Mamie had done her best to help me, but she was apart from the rest.

A few weeks passed while Charles mourned Buckingham deeply, but I knew his sorrow was passing because he was finding great pleasure and the deepest satisfaction in the new relationship which was springing up between us.

Then I discovered that I was with child.

I was very excited at the prospect of having a baby, and Charles was delighted.

“It must be a boy,” I said. Then he smiled gently at me and told me I must not be disappointed if our first child was a girl. We would get boys in due course, he was sure.

I talked about the child practically all the time with my women. One of them said she was sure it would be a boy by the way I was carrying it.

“How I should like to know for sure,” I said.

One of them whispered to me: “Why not consult Eleanor Davys.”

It was the first time I had heard the woman’s name and I had no idea then that she would be the cause of frictions between Charles and me.

I talked over the matter with those three who had become my special friends among the English ladies of the bedchamber: Susan Feilding, Countess of Denbigh; Katherine, Buckingham’s widow; and my favorite of the three, Lucy Hay, Countess of Carlisle. Poor Katherine was very sad at this time; she could not get over the shock of losing her husband. It was strange to me that anyone could love that man, yet she had apparently done so—as had my own husband. She told me how she would never forget coming down the stairs and seeing him lying there in the hall with his blood spattering the walls. I could quite understand why she had nightmares nowadays. We did our best to cheer her and somehow that brought us all closer together.

“Why not call in Eleanor Davys?” said Susan. I think she looked upon it as a diversion for me as well as for Katherine.

Lucy said that Eleanor Davys had foretold her first husband’s death. “She said he would die in three days,” she added, “and he did.”

We were all awestruck.

“She would know then whether I was carrying a boy or a girl,” I said.

“Why not wait and see,” suggested Katherine. “Wouldn’t it be nice to surprise yourself?”

“I should like to know now,” I said. “Moreover I should like to put this wise woman to the test.”

“Let us bring her in then,” suggested Lucy.

“Who is she?” asked Katherine.

“She is the wife of Sir John Davys, the King’s Attorney General,” Susan told us.

“Her second husband,” I added, “since she foretold the death of her first husband. I wonder if she has told Sir John how long he has to live.”

We were all laughing together and even Katherine managed to raise a smile.

However it was arranged that Lady Davys should be brought to me and she was only too delighted to come. In the meantime I had found out certain facts about her. She was the daughter of the Earl of Castle-haven and was quite renowned for her prophecies. If the letters of her name—Eleanor Davys—were arranged differently and her first name spelt with two lls as it often was and her surname Davie instead of Davys (which one could say was used occasionally) the result would be “Reveal O Daniel.” This seemed very significant.

We all became very excited thinking of the revelations to come and when the lady was presented I was greatly impressed by her. She was a big woman, dark-haired with enormous luminous eyes—just the sort, I said to Lucy afterward, which a seer ought to have.

She was not in the least overawed by me. I supposed as a prophetess a queen did not seem so very important in her eyes.

She told us that she had a mission; she was in touch with powers. She could not explain them; she merely knew that she had been selected by some great force to be able to look at that which was not revealed to ordinary people.

I made her sit down and I told her that I had heard of her miraculous powers and there was a question I wanted to ask her. She folded her arms and looked at me steadily while I asked about the child I was to bear. There was a breathless silence round the table while we all waited for her words. She did not hurry. She sat back for a while and closed her eyes. When she opened them she gazed steadily at me and said: “You will have a son.”

There was a gasp of delight round the table.

“And,” I cried, “shall I be happy?”

She said, speaking very slowly: “You will be happy for a while.”

“Only for a while? How long?”

“For sixteen years,” she replied.

“And then what will happen?”

She closed her eyes and at that moment the door opened and the King came in.

Although I was so much fonder of him now I was irritated by the interruption, particularly as he assumed one of his most serious looks. I thought then what fun it would have been if he had joined us and listened with us and giggled and enjoyed the excitement of prophecy. But that was not Charles’s way.

He stood by the table and my ladies all rose and curtsied.

He was looking straight at our soothsayer and he said almost accusingly: “You are Lady Davys.”

“That is so, Your Majesty,” she answered with pride, and I must admit showing very little deference to the King.

“You are the lady who foretold her husband’s death.”

“Yes, Sire. I did that. I have the powers….”

“I can scarcely believe that he welcomed the news,” said Charles coldly. “Indeed it might well have done much to hasten his end.” He turned to me and offered me his arm.

There was nothing I could do but rise and leave with him, though I was fuming with irritation at having that interesting session cut short.

When we were outside the door he said: “I do not wish you to consult that woman.”

“Why not?” I cried. “She is clever. She told me that I would have a son and be happy.”

He was a little uplifted but persisted in his condemnation of her.

“She probably hastened her husband’s death.”

“How could she? He did not die of poison. He just died…as she said he would.”

“It is dabbling in the black arts.”

I was afraid that he was going to forbid me to see her and I knew that if he did my temper would flare up and I should disobey him. It was a pity. We had been getting on so happily until now.

Perhaps he was thinking the same for he said no more. But there was an outcome. Left alone with the ladies, Eleanor Davys talked a little more and what she said was not nearly as pleasant as that which she had told me. When I returned to my women I noticed that they looked very grave.

I said: “Did Lady Davys stay long after I left?”

“A little while,” Lucy replied, not looking at me.

“I was so annoyed to be taken away like that. I felt quite angry with the King.”

“He certainly did not like her,” said Susan.

“Did he forbid you to see her?” asked Katherine.

“He did not. And I would forbid him to forbid me. I will not be told, you must not do this and you must not do that.”

“Yet it would be awkward for her, I suppose,” suggested Susan, “for he could forbid her to come to Court, and of course there is her husband to be considered.”

“Do you think Lady Davys is a woman to be told by her husband what to do?”

“No,” said Susan. “She would probably tell him he had three days to live if he offended her.”

“That isn’t fair,” I protested. “I think her prophecies are true ones. She promised me a son.”

There was a strange and ominous silence round the table which immediately aroused my suspicions.

“What’s the matter?” I cried. “Why are you looking like that?”

They remained silent and I went to Lucy and shook her. “Tell me,” I said. “You know something. What is it?”

Lucy looked appealingly at Susan, and Katherine shook her head.

“No,” I cried stamping my foot. “You had better tell me what is wrong. Is it something Lady Davys said…eh? Was it about me?”

“She er…” began Katherine. “She…er…said nothing of importance.”

“And that is why you look as though the heavens are about to fall in? Come on…I command you…all of you…tell me.”

Susan lifted her shoulders and after a few seconds of silence Lucy nodded and said resignedly: “Well, it is just talk, you know. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“What?” I cried. “What?”

“It is better to tell the Queen,” said Lucy. “If it should come true…and I do not believe for a moment that it will…it is better for her to know.”

“Know what?” I screamed, my patience at an end; and now a certain fear was creeping into my mind.

“I think she made it up because she was angry about the King’s interruption,” said Susan.

“If you don’t tell me soon I’ll have you all arrested for…conspiracy,” I shouted.

Lucy said quietly: “She told us that you would indeed have a boy.”

“Well, go on. That’s what she told me. There is nothing new in that.”

“But that he would be born, christened and buried all in one day.”

I stared at them in horror. “It can’t be true.”

“Of course it can’t,” soothed Lucy. “It is just that she was angry. She was so annoyed that the King came in and showed he did not approve of her.”

I stared ahead of me. I was seeing a little body wrapped in a shroud.

Susan said: “Don’t tell the King what she said or that we told you.”

I shook my head. “It is such nonsense,” I cried. “She is a madwoman.”

“That is what so many people say,” said Lucy quickly. “Your son will be a beautiful child. How could he be otherwise? You and the King are both handsome.”

“My son!” I murmured. “There will be a son.”

I had so firmly believed her when she said I was to have a son but if the first prophecy was correct, why should the second not be?

Now I began to be haunted by fears.

I don’t know whether that prophecy preyed on my mind but whenever I thought of my baby, instead of seeing a laughing lively child I saw a little white one in a coffin. I could not eat much and at night my dreams were disturbed. The King was very anxious about me.

“Perhaps,” he said, “you are too young to have a child.”

Too young! I was eighteen and would be nineteen in November. That was not so young to have a child. I did not tell the King about the prophecy. He would have been very angry with Lady Davys and I am sure he would have made some complaint to her husband. I tried to disbelieve her. After all, how could she possibly know? It had been a coincidence about her first husband. Perhaps he had been very ill and she, as his wife, knew exactly how ill.

The King was most attentive to me. In fact I think he was far more interested in me and my baby than he was in state affairs and was bitterly resentful when they took him away from us.

I hoped that we should have many children. I could see us in the years ahead with them all around us—beautiful children, the boys looking like Charles and the girls like me. They would certainly be a handsome family.

We were at Somerset House. We had arrived on a Monday and I had arranged for a Te Deum to be sung in the chapel there. While I was in the chapel I began to feel very unwell. It could not be the child yet, because it was not due for another month.

I was very glad to get out of the chapel and to my chamber. I told Susan and Lucy that I was not feeling well and that I thought I should retire to bed.

“You are certain to feel tired,” they said. “You are getting close to your confinement.”

“Oh, it is a month away,” I reminded them.

But during the night I began to feel pain. I shouted and very soon people were crowding round my bed. I was in agony and I knew that my child was about to be born.

I cannot remember much of that night. I think it was rather fortunate for me that during much of it I was unconscious. In the evening of the next day my child was born…prematurely. It was weak, not having reached its full time and I heard afterward how Charles and my confessor argued together over its baptism which had to take place immediately as it was ominously clear that speed was necessary. My confessor said that as I was to have charge of my children’s religious upbringing until they were thirteen, the baby should be baptized according to the rites of the Church of Rome. Charles retorted that this was a Prince of Wales and the people of England would never allow a child who was destined to become King of England to be baptized as a Catholic.

The King, of course, had to be obeyed, and the little boy was baptized according to the Church of England and named Charles James.

Scarcely had those rites been performed when he died.

I remember waking from my sleep of exhaustion to find the King at my bedside.

“Charles,” I whispered.

He knelt by the bed and taking my hand kissed it.

“We have a son?” I asked.

He was silent for a second and then he said: “We had a son.”

I felt the desolation sweep over me; the waiting months, the discomfort…the dreams…they had all come to nothing.

“We are young yet,” said the King. “You must not despair.”

“I so wanted this child.”

“We both did.”

“Did he live at all?”

“For two hours. He was baptized and we christened him Charles James.”

“Poor little Charles James! Are you very sad, Charles?”

“I tell myself that I have you and you are going to be well soon. You are young and healthy and the doctors tell me that in spite of your ordeal you will soon be well again. That is the most important news for me.”

That was my first real experience of Charles in misfortune. He was always able to bear disappointments nobly and with few complaints. These qualities were to stand him in good stead later.

I soon recovered, though I learned that I had been very near to death. There had been one point where they could have saved the child at a cost to my life and the doctors had actually asked the King whom they should consider first…me or the child. I was told that he had answered immediately and vehemently: “Let the child die but save the Queen.”

Perhaps I started to love him then. There was something so good about him; and if there was a vulnerability, a certain weakness, that only endeared him to me the more. Young, frivolous and impetuous as I was, there was a certain maternal feeling in my emotions regarding him. Perhaps it was born at that time.

As I lay in bed I remembered the prophecy. What had she said? I should have a son and he would be born, baptized and die all in a day.

The prophecy had come true.

It is amazing how news like that is circulated. Everywhere people were talking about Lady Davys’s prophecy. She was indeed a seer. The King was very angry, particularly when it was suggested that the prophecy had so upset me that it was due to it that I had given birth prematurely.

It was nonsense. I was sure that Lady Davys really had the powers of prophecy.

Charles wanted her to be dismissed from Court.

“You can’t do that,” I said. “You are being like a petulant King who punishes the messengers for the message.”

He did see that. “But I want no more of these prophecies. They are evil.”

“She promises good things sometimes.”

“First her husband. Then our child.”

“It was ordained that they should die. She just had preknowledge of it.”

“I want her out of the way.”

“You would never get a woman like that out of the way. You could burn her at the stake for a witch but she would curse you or prophesy something evil on the very scaffold.”

Charles was a little superstitious. I think that was why he was so angry.

He did not dismiss her from Court, but he did send for her husband Sir John Davys and asked him to put an end to his wife’s prophecies. But Sir John explained to the King that his wife was a forceful woman and could not be forbidden to do anything. “She believes she has a mission, Your Majesty. She says she will fulfill it no matter what humiliations and punishments the ignorant press upon her.”

Charles was a very understanding man. He knew what Sir John meant and he thought he was very brave to have married Eleanor Davys after what had happened to her first husband. Sir John, however, did burn some of her papers for she had been a collector of ancient manuscripts.

I was against this and argued with Charles about it. I said that if anything was going wrong it was better to know about it. I was sure that having heard the prophecy about my son I was more able to face the bitter disappointment because it was not entirely a surprise to me.

We argued and came near to quarreling as we used to in the old days, but I remembered his tenderness toward me at the bedside and he thought of all I had gone through so we did not actually use harsh words against each other.

He looked at me pleadingly and said: “It would please me if you did not see this woman again.”

I hesitated. I wanted to say: But it pleases me to see her. I want to know. I don’t want to live in ignorance.

But we both compromised.

He said he was sending Mr. Kirke—one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber—with a message to Lady Davys. He was to tell her that the Queen did not wish to see her again.

“It would be more truthful to say the King does not wish the Queen to see her again,” I said with a flash of my old temper.

He kissed me lightly on the forehead.

“My dearest,” he said, “everything I ever do is with your good in mind.”

I knew that was true and I relented. I took an opportunity of waylaying Mr. Kirke before he left with the message. One of the attendants brought him to my chamber.

I said to him: “Mr. Kirke, you are going with a message to Lady Davys?”

“That is so, Your Majesty,” he replied.

“When you hand it to her give her the Queen’s compliments and ask her if my next child will be a boy and will he live.”

Mr. Kirke bowed and went off.

I could scarcely wait for his return.

I set someone to wait at the gates for him and when he arrived back to bring him straight to me. When he came he was smiling happily so I knew that it was good news.

I said: “Did you ask Lady Davys my question?”

He replied that he had done so. “She said, my lady, that your next child would be a lusty son who will live, and that you will have a happy life for sixteen years.”

“Sixteen years! How strange! But a son, you said…a son who will live.”

“Those were her words, my lady.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kirke,” I said.

And he went away to the King to report that he had carried out his mission.

Sixteen years, I thought. That would take us up to 1644 or thereabouts. Sixteen years…that was a long way into the future; and in the meantime I was to have my son and my happy years.

I went to the King. Mr. Kirke had left him and I was sure he thought the matter was satisfactorily settled.

I embraced him and said: “Our next son will be lusty and live.”

He looked at me in astonishment.

“You are with child?” he asked.

“Not yet. But Lady Davys says that my next son will live and be strong.”

I saw the joy in his face. He held me close to him and I laughed exultantly.

It was illogical of him. He was not supposed to believe in prophecy.

But he believed in this one though.

I said: “It is not such a bad thing to believe in prophecies when they are good. It is only when they are bad that one does not want to know.”

Then he laughed and we were very happy. We were both thinking about the strong and lusty sons we would have.