The Merry Monarch's Wife

MARRIED BLISS

WE COULD NOT SAIL OUT OF THE BAY THEN AS THE WIND was too strong and I was told it might be some time before we could leave.

I settled into my cabin, which was truly magnificent. I marvelled at the amount of care which had gone into making it so; it was not only comfortable but luxurious. The walls had been lined with velvet; there were curtains of damask and taffeta; and there were rugs on the floor. I imagined Charles giving orders that all should be of the best for his Queen.

How miraculous it was that all our plans had worked out. I should be rejoicing, but I could not help thinking of my mother. I should never forget her face as it had been at that last moment when we embraced. There were no tears. How could she weep with so many watching her? But her grief had been none the less because of that.

“I shall never see her again,” I kept saying to myself; and then waves of misery would sweep over me.

And yet our purpose — the dream that had been with us for years — was realized. It could not have been any other way. That was like life, I supposed. Nothing could be entirely perfect.

I had to stop thinking of my mother. I had to remember that I was going to my husband — the man of whom I had dreamed for so many years…ever since that day when I was seven and I had learned that there was a possibility of his being my husband.

The hours were passing and we still remained in the bay.

In the evening my brothers brought a group of noblemen from the court to serenade me. They sailed in their little boats round the Royal Charles, playing music and singing to me. It was very moving.

And when I awoke next morning, the sun was shining brilliantly. The wind was still strong but the Admiral decided that we would wait no longer. We would defy the weather and set sail. So, with Donna Maria and Donna Elvira, six maids of honor and their servants, with Don Francisco de Mello, who was to supervise my safe delivery into England, with Richard Russell, my almoner, who was an excellent interpreter, and others who were necessary to me, plus boxes of sugar and spices, I left my country for a new life in England.

It was a most hazardous journey. Some of my ladies were so ill that they wished for death; I myself suffered slightly less. We really believed that our last moments had come and we should never see England; and when some of the vessels were damaged by the storm, we were certain of this.

The wind roared and buffeted us and we were at one stage forced to take refuge in Mount Bay, off the coast of Cornwall.

We were heartened to receive a welcome from the people on shore. They knew that I was on board one of the ships and they were clearly determined to show their pleasure in my arrival. Bonfires were lighted along the coast and we could hear people singing; salutes were fired and there was a wonderful display of fireworks.

After that brief halt we were able to pursue our journey, and came to the Isle of Wight, where the Duke of York, the King’s brother, was waiting with a squadron of frigates to greet us.

A message was sent to me. The Duke wanted permission to come aboard the Royal Charles that he might “kiss my hand.”

There was excitement in the cabin. Donna Maria and Donna Elvira were shocked when I said I must greet the Duke of York in English dress. Clothes had been thoughtfully provided for such an occasion, and I ordered my women to dress me in a gown of white silk trimmed with lace.

Donna Maria covered her face with her hands when she saw me in it, and Donna Elvira held up her hands in horror.

“It is most unsuitable!” wailed Donna Maria.

“Quite immodest,” agreed Donna Elvira.

“It is the English fashion,” I told them.

“Then,” retorted Donna Maria, “we had better turn back and go home.”

“What!” I cried, mocking her. “Face the sea again? I heard you say that nothing on earth would make you sail again.”

But Donna Maria was truly distressed since, having just emerged from one ordeal, she was confronted by me in a most unsuitable gown. It was too much for her.

I heard the arrival of the Duke. Don Francisco was on deck waiting to receive him and bring him to one. My heart was beating fast as he approached.

The Duke was tall, his features heavy, but his complexion was fair, whereas I had heard Charles’s swarthiness referred to often. It had been said that he was more like a Spaniard than an Englishman, so therefore James’s comparative fairness surprised me. He had a certain dignity, but there was a friendliness about him.

He started to kneel before me; but I thought that was too formal for one who was to be my brother-in-law. So I asked him not to do so and embraced him. His response was immediate.

He then spoke in English which I did not understand. Richard Russell translated for me. James was saying what a great pleasure it was to welcome me to England on his brother’s behalf, but he included an earnest welcome from himself at the same time.

He asked me how the voyage had been and then suggested that, as he knew a little Spanish, it might be easier for us to converse in that language; and this we did.

He then told me that his brother was awaiting my arrival with the greatest eagerness, and how the whole country was jubilant.

The people were still celebrating the return of the King. Poor souls, they had suffered under Cromwell. He had made England a country without laughter. That was no country to live in. But at least it had made them appreciate the merry times the more.

He wanted me to know that he was determined to be my friend and if he could be of service to me at any time I must tell him, for nothing would delight him more than to help. I wanted him to sit beside me, but he said he could not do so because that was his brother’s place. He would sit in a chair without a canopy.

I had not expected such rigid regard for etiquette in England and think, from what I gathered afterward, that it was just the Duke’s way of showing he wanted to honor me.

When he left he brushed aside ceremony and remarked that I did not do justice to my rank, to which I replied that I acted out of affection, and I could see that this pleased him.

So my meeting with my brother-in-law was most satisfactory.

Before he left, he presented to me the Earl of Chesterfield and the Duke of Ormonde, with other gentlemen who had accompanied him. All were most effusive in their welcome and, with the horrors of the sea voyage behind me, my spirits were considerably lifted.

Shortly after the Duke had left, Donna Maria said she was feeling unwell. I insisted that she went to bed immediately, and to my surprise she did not protest. So I guessed that she was indeed ill, for nothing else would have induced her to leave my side at such a time.

When we reached Portsmouth she was so ill that she could not be with me, and I was left to Donna Elvira and my ladies-in-waiting.

I was taken to the King’s house in Portsmouth where the Duchess of Suffolk, who was to be Mistress of the Stole, was waiting to be received by me. She appeared to be a very pleasant woman, although we could not understand each other very well.

Donna Maria was suffering from a feverish cold and was not seriously ill, which was comforting; and I settled down to await the coming of the King.

My only regret was that my mother was not here with me. How gratified she would have been by the welcome I had received! She would be thinking of me now, I knew. We were separated, but at least she had acheved her ambition; and in such circumstances it could not be otherwise. I was as good as married to the King of England and the Spanish would not dare attack Portugal now that England was brought closer to us by this alliance.

If only she could be with me now, what great happiness I should know!

There was consternation when, a few days after my arrival in Portsmouth, I caught Donna Maria’s cold. I was sneezing and had a slight fever. The doctors were called and they said I must keep to my bed.

Several days had passed since my arrival and I had not yet seen the King. He was detained in London on urgent business, I was told. I was a little uneasy that he should be delayed so long. It might seem that he was not very eager to see me. I wondered what the business in London could be which was so urgent. Matters of state, of course.

It was five days after my arrival in Portsmouth when he came. I was in bed. The fever had subsided but the cold still persisted.

Donna Maria, now recovered, said: “You must not leave your bed, and one thing is certain, the King must not see you in it.”

“He will expect to see me when he arrives.”

“If he is a sensible and right-minded man, he will realize the impropriety of seeing you at such a time.”

I wondered. I had already noticed that formality was not so rigidly insisted on here as it was in Portugal. It existed, of course, but the English had a habit of discarding certain things if they become inconvenient.

He arrived. I heard the commotion below. Donna Maria and Donna Elvira were standing at the door like two angels with flaming swords guarding Eden.

Then I heard a voice — the most musical I had ever heard. It was soft and caressing, though I could not understand the words which were spoken.

The Earl of Sandwich was there.

He said in Spanish that the King had arrived and wished to see the Queen.

Donna Maria replied that the Queen was indisposed.

“The King will see her,” replied the Earl. “He has traveled from London for this.”

Donna Maria was about to protest, but with a courtly gesture, the Earl led her to one side. And there was the King.

I felt myself flushing and trying to shrink below the bedclothes, fearful that, unadorned as I was, he should find me ill-favored.

He came to the bed. He had taken off his plumed hat and flung it onto a chair. He was smiling and he was all that I had dreamed him to be. One was immediately aware of his height, and his dark face with the heavy-lidded eyes. They sparkled with merriment and friendliness. Yet there was a certain gentleness about him. He was swarthy, yes, that was true enough. He was quite unlike the fair-skinned Englishmen whom I had met so far. In fact, he was different from anyone I had ever seen before. He may not have had perfect features, but he had something far more attractive. It was an excessive and indefinable charm. For so long I had created an image — now here was the embodiment of my ideal.

He sat on the bed and took my hand. He kissed it, looking up into my face as he did so.

He spoke in English and then, laughing, slipped into Spanish.

“The Spaniards have a use then,” he said. “They gave us a language which we both understand. My little wife, how it delights me to see you! But I am sad that you should be indisposed. But you will be well soon. Your doctors have told me that. It is nothing much…just a little inconvenience. That makes me very happy.”

“You are kind,” I said.

“Kind?” He laughed. “And to whom should I be kind if not to my Queen? Life is going to be good. I can see that you and I will be of one mind. We shall be merry together. The sea was not good to you, they tell me. That grieved me much. And now you are here, all shall be well from now on. How I have longed to see you!”

It did not occur to me until later — such was the magic of his presence — that if he had so longed to see me, he need not have waited five days before doing so. But I was to discover that, while one was with Charles, he beguiled one into believing him. Or perhaps one did so because one wanted to.

“As soon as you are well, we shall be married,” he said.

He saw the furrow in my brow and asked me in a tender voice if anything worried me.

With a certain apprehension, I broached the subject which was uppermost in my mind. Perhaps he was not the one to whom I should have spoken, but there was a kindliness in him and I sensed he would be tolerant and understand a point of view which might not be his own. I should certainly not have mentioned it on our first meeting, but I had already tried to speak of it to Don Francisco, who had brushed it aside.

I said: “There is something, Your Majesty.”

He took my hand. “Charles…” he said reproachfully, and I immediately felt able to confide in him.

“It is the ceremony…”

“Oh, the ceremony! What fuss! For myself, I could happily dispense with such encumbrances.”

“Your Majesty…Charles…I could not be happy if there was not a Catholic ceremony.”

For a moment he dropped his bantering mood. Then he smiled and said: “You need have no fear. Our marriage will be regarded throughout the world as a true marriage.”

“It would not be so to me,” I said.

“Ah,” he replied. “They have made an ardent papist of you, have they? Papists are so earnest.” He laughed. “You remind me of my mother. You and she will be good friends when you meet, I’ll swear. As for this Catholic ceremony…you see, my dear, you are Queen of this country and you must be married according to the religious observances of the place. But you say you will not be happy…and I cannot allow you to be unhappy. I will tell you how we will resolve this matter. There shall be a ceremony here in this bedchamber. It shall be as you wish, and the other one will take place as arranged on the same day. It means you will have to marry me twice. Could you bear that?”

I felt my lips tremble. I was going to weep because I was so touched, so happy.

“You are all that I hoped for…and all that I dreamed,” I said emotionally.

He looked at me in mock dismay. “Do not have too good an opinion of me, I beg you. I fear you will find me a somewhat sinful fellow.”

“Oh no. You are the kindest and best man in the world.”

He leaned toward me and kissed my cheek. He was sober suddenly. He said: “You shame me.” Then he was merry again. His gravity seemed always to be fleeting, as though his gaiety was waiting impatiently to break in on it.

“So,” he went on, “that little matter is taken care of. There is nothing now for you to be anxious about. All you have to do is get well. I am impatient for these ceremonies to be over.”

When he left me, I lay back in a daze of happiness.

Donna Maria came in and looked at me.

“I never heard of such,” she was muttering. “I can guess what your mother would say if she knew that a man not yet your husband had visited you in your bedchamber…and you abed!”

I pulled the bedclothes up to hide my face and stifle my laughter.

It was the laughter of happiness as much as amusement.

I RECOVERED ALMOST IMMEDIATELY and it was arranged that the ceremony should take place without delay.

There was a great deal of secrecy about the Catholic nuptials, and I realized what a concession it was that it should have been allowed to take place.

It was to be held in my bedchamber. The Lord Aubigny, an almoner of Queen Henrietta Maria, was to perform the ceremony. Francisco de Mello was to be there with three of his trusted servants, and Donnas Maria and Elvira. The only other witness was to be the Duke of York, and I was pleased to see him again. He had made me feel so welcome on my arrival and he had seemed sympathetic and to understand my urgent desire that it should take place.

Charles was as charming as ever. He was less earnest than I, and I felt more and more grateful that he should have granted my wish, which could not have been easy. If he had refused, I should have been most unhappy. He had understood this and was determined to please me. What a wonderful husband I should have!

After the ceremony Charles kissed me. He whispered: “Don’t forget you have to go through all this again.”

I replied that I should be very happy to do so.

Then the Duke of York kissed me and said most graciously how delighted he was that I had come to these shores to be his good sister.

I was so happy. My cold had disappeared and I was now ready for that other ceremony which would take place later that day.

Lady Suffolk helped to prepare me for it. Donna Maria clucked her disapproval and whispered with Donna Elvira, who shared it. They had been somewhat placated because of the earlier ceremony in my bedchamber. At least I was now Charles’s wife and that set their minds at rest. It was a pity, said Donna Elvira, that we had to go through this heathen performance.

They did not approve of my wedding dress, which Lady Suffolk and I thought charming. It was cut according to the English fashion. “Disgraceful,” murmured Donna Maria.

“Too low cut and showing too much of the shoulders,” added Donna Elvira.

It was of the color of roses — a beautiful shade which would be becoming to my dark eyes, and there were little knots of ribbon all over it. I thought it was the most delightful dress I had ever seen.

Communication was not easy. I knew that I must learn the English language as quickly as I could, for I could see many difficulties ahead. I thought: I will ask Charles to teach me. Perhaps I shall teach him Portuguese.

“You must not get exhausted,” warned Donna Elvira.

“Indeed not,” added Donna Maria. “Do not forget that you have just arisen from a sick bed.”

“Oh, Maria…it was nothing.”

“You have to remember, my lady, how excitement upsets you.”

I knew what she meant. Once or twice, when I had been overtired or became too excited, I had fainted, and this was accompanied by a tiresome bleeding of the nose. It had happened only a few times but that was enough for Donna Maria. She was continually reminding me of it. It had happened once in the convent and had alarmed the nuns. Donna Maria was now shaking her head prophetically.

“I shall be watchful,” she said. “And if I see the signs, I shall insist on your returning to your bed — no matter who shall try to stop me. It was foolish to have two ceremonies on the same day. The morning’s was necessary, I agree, but this other…”

“Dear Maria, this is the one people here think is important.”

“I can only wish that we had come to a country of the Faith.”

“I’m happy here, Maria.”

Lady Suffolk fortunately could not understand this conversation, so perhaps there was some advantage in the language difficulty after all.

The ceremony was to take place in the great hall of this house, for which I was grateful. I was buoyed up by excitement, but I did feel a trembling of the knees, due no doubt to this excitement rather than my recent indisposition.

The grand hall, or the Presence Chamber, where Charles received visiting emissaries and ambassadors, was an impressive room, especially as it was fitted up for this occasion. Two thronelike seats had been set under a canopy, and a rail had been put across the room to partition off that section where the nuptials should take place, separating us from the rest of the company. The place was filled with nobles and those of high standing in all professions.

Charles led me to the seat under the canopy, and with us was the Bishop of London, who was to perform the ceremony, and Don Francisco with Sir Richard Fanshawe, whom I knew because of the part he had played in the negotiation of the marriage.

Charles took my hand and the ceremony began.

I could only nod my head when told to do so, for I was not able to say the words which were required of me.

I learned afterward that when the Bishop proclaimed us man and wife, what the people were shouting was: “Long may they live!”

There was to be a banquet and the King, holding me by the hand, took me to his apartment, the people following us.

There we stood side by side and many came to congratulate us and to wish us a long and happy life together. Charles explained this to me. He looked very happy — and so was I.

Lady Suffolk indicated that she would like one of the blue knots of ribbon on my dress. It would be a memento of this happy occasion which she would treasure all her life. I thought it was a charming suggestion, so I pulled one off and gave it to her.

People pressed round and I realized that they were all demanding a knot of blue ribbon.

“You cannot refuse them,” said Charles. “You are going to be ribbonless before they will let you go.”

It was all very merry and there was I, plucking off the knots of ribbon, which I knew later had been lightly tacked on so that they could easily be pulled off.

I looked down with dismay at my denuded dress.

“Do not regret the loss of the ribbons,” said Charles. “It still looks delightful, as any dress would on you.”

I noticed that only one knot had been left, and Charles plucked it off. “This one shall be mine,” he said. He kissed it and held it to his heart. Everyone applauded.

I turned to him and smiled. I was so happy. There was only one regret. My mother was not here to see my contentment, and the successful culmination of the dream we had shared through the years.

Suddenly I felt almost faint and might have fallen if Charles had not put an arm about me.

“You are unwell, my dearest?” he said with concern.

“No, just a little tired.”

Donna Maria, watching me intently, had seen what had happened. She was beside me, indignant and vociferous.

“I should think so. You have had enough. It is time you were in your bed. You will be ill. I have never heard the like…two weddings in one day.”

I was glad few could understand her.

The Countess of Suffolk was talking to the King. He looked grave.

Then he said to me: “They are saying you are overtired. This is too soon after your illness. The Countess thinks you should return to bed.”

I said: “There is the banquet…”

“Your good health is more important than all the banquets in my kingdom. The ladies are right. You must go to your bedchamber at once. You must rest.”

“But…,” I began.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “It is best. There is the rest of our lives for us to be together.”

Donna Maria was chattering about the folly of doing too much too soon. Elvira was with her. They knew, they were saying, what was best for me.

I said: “I shall miss the banquet…my wedding banquet…and I shall not be there.”

“A plague on banquets,” said Donna Maria. “Your health comes first.”

The King came with me to my bedchamber. Donna Maria pursed her lips and I wanted to remind her that he was my husband now.

Lady Suffolk was there. She implied that she, with my ladies, would help me to disrobe.

I lay in my bed. Yes, I was exhausted and it was a relief to rest. But I could not stop myself thinking of the splendid banquet, the merrymaking, and the King sitting there with an empty chair beside him, which made me feel a little dispirited, when the door was flung open suddenly, and two men appeared, carrying trays.

I thought: I do not want to eat. Oh, how I wished that I had been able to hide my weakness.

And then Charles was there. He gave an order to the men and one tray was set down on the bed. He seated himself on the other side of the tray, smiling at me.

“What…?” I began in Spanish, and he answered in that language.

“I could not sup on my wedding day without my wife.”

Oh, what a merry meal that was! How we laughed and how we talked! It was so amusing for us because we found our Spanish not always adequate and must resort to miming.

Charles said: “I wonder if you will share my view that this is far more agreeable than the grand banquet they are having downstairs.”

“It is the most enjoyable meal I ever had,” I told him.

We kissed over the tray, and I was happier than I had ever been before in the whole of my life.

I SPENT MY WEDDING NIGHT alone in my bed. Charles was so considerate that he realized I was too overcome by the excitement for anything else.

I scarcely slept. How rarely is the realization more delightful than the dream itself! That was what I believed had happened to me.

How charming he was! He had a nonchalant air, a carefree manner which implied that everything would be well if left to him. And above all, there was his kindness. I remembered how grim Don Francisco had become when I had told him I must have a Catholic marriage ceremony. How different from my dearest Charles! It was a delicate matter, I knew. I was asking something which had to be performed in private because the people here would not have wanted it to take place. But he had immediately understood how much it meant to me. He was wonderful. I must be the happiest woman in the world.

He was in the room early next morning asking me, with the utmost tenderness, how I was.

I told him I was completely well.

“We shall take care of you,” he said.

Then he talked of our honeymoon which, he said, if I were agreeable, should be spent at his palace of Hampton Court.

I said that would be most agreeable.

“It is one of my favorite palaces,” he told me. “You will enjoy it, as I shall. It is a place where a great deal has happened and I shall tell you of some of this. It was built many years ago…four hundred, I think, and much later it was bought by a man who is very well known in our history. He was called Cardinal Wolsey. He displeased the King, Henry VIII, who took the palace from him, and it has been royal property ever since.”

“I want to see it very much.”

“We shall dally there for a while. You will like the gardens. You will like the river which runs alongside, and you will not be afraid of the ghosts who haunt the palace, because I shall be there to protect you.”

I told him I should not feel afraid of anything if he were there.

Now our relationship had deepened. I was young, innocent and ignorant. He, as I learned later, was as well versed in the art of lovemaking as anyone on the earth. And I was sure he must have been born with it. How charmingly and romantically he initiated me. And what an apt pupil I was. I believed I delighted him. I did not realize then that it was because of my innocence, which must have made me very different from most of the women he had known. Few would have lived such a sheltered life as I had.

I found life enchanting. We were together for most of the days and nights during the time we spent in Portsmouth; and we were to leave for Hampton Court as soon as enough carts could be found to take the court there.

Charles joked about the Portuguese costumes which my ladies had brought with them.

“It is fortunate that the ladies of England do not follow the same fashions. If they did, there would not be enough carts in England to carry them and their belongings from place to place.”

It was about four days after our wedding when we left for Hampton Court.

What a welcome we received there! There were two reasons for rejoicing. It was the twenty-ninth of May, the King’s thirty-second birthday, and the second anniversary of his restoration to the throne. The English loved excuses for holidays and pageants and making merry. Moreover, Charles told me, they were also celebrating his marriage and my arrival in England.

“So you see, my love, there is ample reason for rejoicing.”

There were bonfires all along the route. People lined the roads to see the King and Queen. They shouted loyal greetings and threw garlands at us. We smiled and waved as we passed along.

They seemed pleased to see me. I had learned to recognize the shouts of “God save the Queen.” Charles was always delighted by their recognition of me.

And thus we came to Hampton.

It has always been one of my favorite palaces. To me now it is the one place where I was most happy, where I had spent those magical days…childlike in my innocence. How happy I could have been if I had never lost that innocence! But one cannot go blindfold through life.

When we arrived at the palace, the guards were waiting to greet us. How I wished that we could have come there alone and have entered the palace without ceremony, but we had to pass through the lines of soldiery, followed by our retinue, and there must be presentations and kissing of hands. As the new Queen, there were important people whom I had to receive. It was so difficult because of the language. I could only nod and smile, for I was not at that stage ready to attempt those few words which Charles had taught me.

Hoy joyous that homecoming could have been if only we were alone!

MY MEMORIES OF THOSE DAYS at Hampton Court will remain with me forever. I was perfectly happy during them, or almost, the only flaw being that we were so rarely alone. But to be otherwise would be asking too much. Charles was, after all, the King and I the new Queen; and it was our duty to receive the many people who were eager to see us.

There were morning levees at which Charles must present the leading people of the court to me; and it seemed there was always some ceremony to perform. He would smile at me apologetically during these sessions, because I believed he too was wishing that we could be alone; and happily I would return his look with understanding.

It was only at night that we were free.

There was continual revelry. The Portuguese court had been much more formal. The English flung themselves into pleasure with an abandonment which at first astonished me. Then I reminded myself that they had only just escaped from Puritan rule, so perhaps in time they would grow a little more restrained.

There were banquets and balls, pageants on the river; plays were performed and there was much dancing. Charles was always at the center of these. He was noted for his wit and was as addicted to pleasure, light-hearted banter and laughter as the rest. He danced most gracefully, and I always applauded him loudly, and during those halcyon days he always looked at me and acknowledged my approval. It was deeply touching, and I was more in love every day.

There were minor disappointments.

For instance, on the first day after our arrival, I was preparing to go down to the levee where certain ladies were to be presented to me. Six of my ladies-in-waiting came with me, dressed in the costumes of our country. Their hair was frizzed to resemble a periwig, and in their farthingales — I now noticed — they walked awkwardly.

Donna Maria looked at them with approval.

She said to me: “They look like ladies. I declare the loose fashions of the English shock me. Indeed, they shock me deeply. I tremble to think what your mother would say if she saw you in these unholy English fashions. Come, let us dress you as a Portuguese queen should be dressed. Let us give you back your dignity.”

I wondered, after, that I allowed it. It was due to the mention of my mother, perhaps. I knew that she would not have approved of the English customs.

So I relented and sat there meekly while they dressed me. They called in the hairdresser, whom we had brought with us from Portugal and whose services I had not yet used because Charles had so admired my hair that I had worn it loosely dressed most of the time.

So I went down to the reception with my attendants, in the costume of my native land.

There was a brief silence, which was eloquent enough. I saw one or two of the ladies put their hands to their mouths, as though holding in their laughter.

Charles was looking at me. For a few seconds I saw his expression of bewildered amazement. Was it horror? Or dismay? I glanced at the ladies. The somber colors made their skins look darker. Or did they seem so against the English skins, which for the most part were fair?

Charles took my hand. He was then smiling as blandly as ever.

I received the ladies, but I knew my appearance was causing a certain amount of amusement.

When the company had gone I said to Charles: “I think some of the company were surprised to see me in the fashion of my country.”

“I think they were indeed,” he replied.

“And you?”

“I must confess I was a little taken aback.”

“I think they were laughing at me. Were you?”

“I think you look enchanting, no matter what fashion you adopt.” He smiled and added: “Even the Portuguese.”

Then he laughed and I could not help laughing with him.

He touched my hair. “It is so beautiful,” he said. “It is a pity to treat it so.”

I said: “It is the fashion.”

“I know it is the command of the dragons. Is that so? The fierce Donna Maria, the stern Donna Elvira?”

I nodded.

“They are good souls,” he said. “They love you well and I love them for that. But they are not, I dare to say, the arbiters of fashion. Here we follow the French…and the French, as you know, have an understanding of these matters. I myself am half French, so I should know.”

He pulled at my hair and released it from the pins. “Ah, now you look more like my fair Catherine. You are beautiful, and nothing can change that…not even…”

“My hideous costume?”

“I was going to say the ministrations of your hairdresser.”

“I am not beautiful,” I cried. “I am too small. Oh, how I wish I could grow a few more inches. You are so tall, and most of the ladies stand higher than I do.”

“Nay,” he said tenderly. “I would not have you otherwise. You are delicate and tiny…and that makes you doubly precious.”

I said: “I shall not wear this costume again. I shall dress in the English fashion.”

“I think you will find it more comfortable. It suits you well. You have such a pretty neck and shoulders. It is a sin to conceal them.”

“You will make me vain. I am not beautiful.” I added: “There are so many beautiful women at your court.”

“In my eyes…none so as my Queen.”

“I cannot believe you really mean that.”

“My dearest, I swear I speak the truth.”

“Look at my teeth.”

“Delightful.”

“They stand out.”

“Of course they do. They are so pretty, they insist on showing themselves, and quite rightly.”

“You are so comforting to me.”

“From now on its is my mission in life to comfort you.”

“I shall change my costume now.”

“With my help.”

“I think perhaps Lady Suffolk would be more proficient at the task.”

“You disappoint me,” he said in mock dismay.

That was typical of him, but I was determined not to let Maria and Elvira persuade me to wear the Portuguese costumes again, for I believe he thought them as hideous as the others did.

AMONG THE PEOPLE WHO were presented to me soon after my arrival at Hampton Court was my sister-in-law Anne Hyde, Duchess of York, wife of James, who had treated me so courteously on my arrival.

I had asked Charles about her when I knew I was to meet her.

“Ah, the Lady Anne,” he had said. “Thereby hangs a tale. She is the daughter of my Chancellor Clarendon. You have already met that stern gentleman. He is a clever fellow and his daughter takes after him. I am fond of Anne. But I must tell you that her entry into our family was not easy for her, poor girl. My mother was fiercely against it, and my mother, as you will no doubt one day discover, can be a very formidable lady. She will love you though, for she is of your faith…most fervently so, and that will be a bond between you two. As for Anne…well, it was not easy for her.”

“Tell me about her. It is good to know something of people before one meets them.”

“It was during my wandering days. Anne was lady-in-waiting to my sister of Orange, who was very good to us. I have been blessed in my family. She gave us shelter at her court and it was there that my brother became enamored of Anne.”

“And she became Duchess of York.”

“She might so easily not have done so…in spite of the fact that she should have been.” He smiled wryly and looked at me in an amused fashion.

I said: “Why do you smile at me?”

“I smile because you are so sweetly innocent and I am the luckiest man in the world. I was wondering if you will be just a little bit shocked by the story of my brother James and his wife. Please don’t be. Don’t judge them harshly — neither James nor Anne — because I am devilishly fond of them both.”

“That is natural. They are your brother and sister.”

“James is a young man who is very fond of the ladies. And it is only natural that the ladies like him. He is a little gauche at times, but he is the brother of the King and the Duke of York — titles which are not without their charm. He fell in love with Anne and she with him, which was delightful, but sometimes there are…results.”

He paused and studied me with mock concern.

“You mean…” I stammered, “there was a child?”

He opened his eyes wide and nodded.

“How…?” I began.

“Shocking, yes,” he said. “Well, James married her.”

“Oh, I am glad of that.”

“It was thought to be something of a mésalliance, and you know how fierce some people can be about such matters.”

“You were kind to them, I know.”

“But of course, I understood. Not so Anne’s father, Clarendon. He was enraged…or pretended to be. He ranted against the poor girl. Poor Anne, she had a trying time.”

“I suppose he was very shocked.”

“I think my Lord Chancellor protested too much. At heart he could not really be displeased to see his daughter marry into the royal family.”

“And…the baby?”

“It was born close on the marriage.”

“How dreadful for them!”

“But they were safely married. And the baby died.”

“That was tragic.”

“Anne has just given birth again — a girl this time. It was not many weeks ago. They will have more. Anne is a shrewd and clever girl. She may give herself airs, as people sometimes do when they are elevated beyond their expectations. Forget that. You could find a good friend in Anne Hyde. She is good for James. She holds him in check. James can be foolhardy at times. So I believe this to be a good match on the whole.”

When I met her, I could believe this. She was by no means as handsome as some of the court ladies, but it was impossible not to be aware of her intelligence. She spoke Spanish, so we were able to talk together, and I told her of my desire to learn English as soon as possible.

I asked her about her child.

“A little girl,” she replied. “She is called Mary. There was the usual disappointment because she was not a boy. She seems strong enough. She is beautiful and lively.”

“She must make you very happy,” I said, and I wondered when I should have a child. Perhaps already…

I could see from her shrewd eyes that she followed my thoughts. She said: “It is a great consolation for everything.”

She was looking at me intently, as though there was some meaning behind her words.

I said: “The Duke was very kind to me when I arrived. I was feeling very uneasy and bewildered, as you can guess.”

“Oh yes,” she replied. “I am glad you found him helpful. He is like the King, his brother, in some ways.”

Again that significant look.

“They are not much alike in appearance,” I said.

“Oh, the King has a style of his own.”

I nodded, smiling.

“I hope you are going to be very happy here,” she went on earnestly.

“Everyone has been so kind, and the King…he is very good to me.”

“He has great charm,” she said.

“And the people are so delighted that he has come back.”

“That’s true. And no one in the country is more delighted than he is himself.”

“He has told me more than once that this is so. You must have known the King before he was restored to the throne, when he was wandering on the continent.”

“Yes, I did. He was often at his sister’s court. He was very fond of her and she of him. They are a very devoted family.”

“The King has told me that, too.”

“There was great sadness when the Princess of Orange died, and in the same year his brother the Duke of Gloucester died. What a year that was! A year of tragedy and hope…and death…then the King’s restoration to the throne. His favorite sister Henrietta was also near to death. Praise God, she recovered to marry the brother of the King of France. Of all the family, the King loved her the best, so he was spared that grief.”

“I must hear more of these matters,” I said.

“Indeed. You are of the family now.”

“I hope to meet the King’s mother.”

Anne’s face hardened for a moment. Then she smiled. “You will be in her favor.”

“She very kindly wrote warmly to me.”

“She approved of your marriage to the King, and is delighted that he has a wife who is of her faith. How different it was with my marriage!”

“I know that she opposed it.”

“Opposed it! She did everything she could to prevent it. I do not look forward to her arrival. She is so emotional. She could not restrain her feelings if she tried…and of course she does not try. She will always resent me for marrying her favorite son. James is her favorite, you know. Charles understands her too well…and she knows it. And sometimes he does not attempt to hide his knowledge.”

“There is so much for me to learn about this country and my new family, as well as the language.”

She looked at me steadily. She said: “Yes, you will find much to learn.”

And again I had that feeling that she was trying to warn me.

THE HAPPY DAYS CONTINUED. Charles and I rode often together — unfortunately, never quite alone.

“Thus it is to be a king,” he said ruefully.

Some little distance from us would ride my Master of Horse, a very earnest young man about my age, who had shown himself always eager to please me. He was Edward Montague, a relative of the Earl of Sandwich.

Charles told me that Edward Montague had been brought up as a Puritan and that accounted for his serious manner.

“He is a good fellow,” he said, “and reliable. I daresay he deplores our gaiety at times, but we will forgive him that, for he certainly knows how to handle horses.”

I had taken quite a liking to Edward Montague.

I loved those rides with Charles, but it did seem as though we were watched continually, and I often saw a glint of something I did not understand in the eyes of the watchers. They appeared to be amused…and I had the feeling that they were waiting for something.

Charles talked to me a good deal about the past. He made me see the days of his exile. They would have embittered some — not so Charles. He had an irrepressible spirit which gave him the power to laugh at life, however grim it might be, however seemingly hopeless. I could see that he had the power to attract people to him, for he could never be entirely sad, and in his presence people must share in his gaiety. He could usually see something to make him smile…in people…in situations…in life…. It was a most happy trait, and I knew that I was not the only one to feel stimulated and enchanted by his company.

Through his eyes I saw it all…those terrible days when it became clear that the Royalists would be defeated…when he heard that his father was Cromwell’s prisoner…when he himself was wandering about the country, constantly in danger of being captured. Even then he could talk light-heartedly of it, finding humor in desperate situations.

“Picture me…hiding in Stonehenge, disguised as a serving man. My friends said they had never seen such a servingman in all the palaces in England. I could as easily have been mistaken for a Druid risen from the dead.”

And so many times he had come near to being captured.

“I must have been singularly blessed,” he said. “They could not catch me because, always at hand, there was someone to help.”

He told me about Jane Lane, the girl who had risked her life for him, as many had before and after.

“It was September,” he said, his eyes smiling as, a little dreamily, he looked back to the past. “It must have been more than ten years ago, as it was after Worcester. I knew I had to get out of the country or my fate would be that of my father. I came to Bently Hall.

“Jane Lane was there, visiting her brother before calling on a friend near Bristol. Her cousin, a man named Lascelles, was to travel with her, and she would take a manservant as well. I was to be that manservant, and we planned to go to a house near Sherborne where friends could get me to the coast and shipped to France. They dressed me as the servingman and I took the name of one of the family servants…William Jackson, I remember.”

“I cannot believe that you could ever look like anyone’s servant,” I said.

“You have guessed correctly. I was a poor actor. They would never have accepted me in the King’s Players.”

“Please tell me about Jane Lane.”

“A beautiful young woman.” He smiled, remembering, and I felt a twinge of jealousy. I should have liked to have been the one who helped him to safety.

“I rode the mare and Jane rode pillion behind me. Jane’s brother-in-law and sister rode with us. What a journey that was! They were terrified when we stopped at inns, certain that I would betray myself. I did encounter some strange looks, I can tell you. Jane eye’s were on me, fiercely condemning when I committed such folly…but she forgave me. “It is hard to be a servingman when you should be a king,” she said.

“I remember as we came into Stratford-upon-Avon we rode into a troop of Roundheads, and Jane’s sister and her husband turned back at the sight of them. Jane was furious with them. She was afraid they would be seen leaving us and that suspicion would be aroused. “Ride on,” she commanded. “Keep your head down. Don’t look so regal. Look humble, for the love of God.” So, for the love of God and Jane, I hung my head. The soldiers gave us a quick glance and decided that we were of no interest — and so we rode on.

“I remember putting up at an inn in Cirencester. We had some tricky moments there. I can tell you, Jane had reason to admonish me. ‘Try to play the part with some reality,’ she scolded me. And then she would blush enchantingly and murmur, ‘Your Majesty.’ She was delightful. You would have liked Jane. So resourceful. Do you know, in such situations I would give the palm to the ladies. They have more subtlety. They are more capable of deceit.”

I protested.

“Not you, my love. You are a woman apart. Well, Jane saved my life. I owe much to Jane and many like her. Determined as she was that our plan should succeed, yet she could not forget that I was the King…a king without a kingdom assuredly, but nevertheless a king.

“When we reached Abbots Leigh we were to stay a night at an inn, and she asked for a private room for me, her servant, mark you…because I was suffering from the ague, she said. And, would you believe it? It was given to me. Oh, Jane Lane was a lady of great character.”

“And what happened after that?”

“Jane took me to a colonel, Francis Wyndham, at Trent, which is a place near Sherborne. He was to take me over the sea and get me to France…which, God bless him, he did.”

“And did you ever see Jane Lane again?”

“Indeed I did. Cromwell’s spies were everywhere. The last thing he wanted was for me to escape to France. He would never be at peace while I was alive. Poor fellow, he must have had some uneasy years. The French were friendly to me. After all, I am half French…and any monarch knows that the fall of one king is a danger to all kings. So I could rely to a certain extent on the French. I had my sister Mary to help me to regain my throne. So there would be some consternation in Cromwell’s camp. They had set a reward of a thousand pounds on my head, and I had left taking that head with me. There were rumors. There were some who remembered seeing a somewhat incongruous servingman who had accompanied Mistress Jane Lane on her journey toward the coast.

“So one day, when I was in Paris, a courier brought a message to me. Colonel Lane, Jane’s brother, had brought her to Paris so that if there were inquiries about that journey she had made with me, she should not be there to answer their questions. She and the Colonel disguised themselves as peasants and made their way to Yarmouth, where they found a ship to get them out of the country.”

“How very dangerous it all must have been!”

“We lived in dangerous times, Catherine. The days had become filled with hope and despair. No, not despair. I always knew in my heart that one day I would come back…and that hope was kept alive by all those good people who risked their lives for my sake.”

“What happened to Jane Lane?”

“They had come to Paris and I went to meet them. I remember it well. My mother was in the party…and my brother Henry was alive then. They all wanted to thank Jane for what she had done. I was overjoyed to see her. I was eager to thank her. I kissed her cheek and called her my life…because it was true, I owed it to her.”

“Did she stay long in France?”

“She was in Paris for some time where she was treated with great respect by the court there. They were very good to me. I owe much to Louis. Oh yes, I like to think that Jane was rewarded for what she did for me.”

“I am sure she did not want payment.”

“That’s true. She was one of my most loyal and loving subjects. I was glad when she went to stay at my sister’s court. Mary was in Cologne at the time and Jane went to join her household there. It was unsafe for her to go back to England after what she had done. Cromwell could be venomous against anyone who helped the monarchy. Now, I thank Heaven that all that is over.”

I still wanted to hear more of Jane and I persisted, “Where is she now?”

“She married Sir Clement Fisher of Warwickshire, on my restoration. The government gave her a thousand pounds and from me there was a gold watch. I suggested she should keep it as a memento of her bravery and it should go from eldest daughter to every eldest daughter in the household to remind them of what their noble ancestor had done for the King of England.”

“What a wonderful story!” I cried.

“With a happy ending. Would that all stories could have them. Without Jane I might not be sitting here at this moment. I am sure I should be mouldering in my grave…in two parts perhaps, head in one place, body in another.”

“I pray you, do not mention such.”

He touched his head lightly. “It is safe now,” he said, “and I intend it shall remain on my shoulders for the rest of my life. I will do everything to prevent the parting.”

“It is not a matter to joke about.”

“My dearest, life is a matter to joke about. It is the only way to live it.”

He went on to tell me of his stay in Scotland, where he was crowned at Scone.

He shrugged his shoulders. “It was no fun being King in Scotland, I can assure you. It was more like being a state prisoner. I must repent my sins, put away most of my friends, resist the merry way of life and change it for one of fasting and prayer. Odds bodikins, I’d as lief be a wandering exile far from home. At least there was some merriment in that! I was glad to leave Scotland behind and march into England. You know that they caught up with us near Worcester…and after that I wandered through England, west and south…on one occasion hiding in the branches of an oak tree in Boscabel while Cromwell’s men searched for me, even coming under the tree, but the kindly leaves hid me from view — so that oak tree was yet another that saved my life.

“Two years in Cologne…three in the Low Countries…and three in France…an exile…waiting, waiting for the call. Then on that glorious day…it was the twenty-sixth of May…my thirtieth birthday approaching. What a birthday gift! Could ever a man have a better! They wanted me back. The country was weary of the Protectors. They wanted a king on the throne.”

I clasped my hands together. “What a wonderful life you have had,” I said. “How different from mine.”

“My dear one has seen so little of the world…and I so much.”

“Does that matter?” I asked anxiously.

“It will not…if we do not let it,” he said, and I did not realize then that that was a somewhat cryptic remark. He had told me so much…and so little.

ONE OF OUR MOST DELIGHTFUL PASTIMES was teaching each other our languages. I said that it was far more important that I should learn his than he mine; and with this he agreed.

I said: “I find it very trying that I cannot hear what the English ladies are whispering about. There seems so much to amuse them.”

“Perhaps it is better not to know,” he said with a sudden smile which was half humorous, half serious.

“I want to know…all.”

“Sometimes there is greater happiness in ignorance than knowledge.”

“Never.”

“Think of Adam and Eve and what happened to them. Thrown out of the Garden of Eden.”

“Whatever there is to know…I want to know it.”

He was unusually silent then, but a few seconds later he was laughing at the pronunciation of some word I had spoken.

I PERSISTED. I did so want to master his language. I was helped considerably by Lady Suffolk, of whom I was becoming quite fond. She had been so kind and helpful and took such pains to please me. She had made me see how unbecoming the Portuguese costume was, and I never thought of wearing it now. I could see how ill it became my women. Of course, Donnas Maria and Elvira deplored my adoption of the English fashions, but they were ready to disapprove of everything in my new country.

I was beginning to improve my knowledge of English sufficiently to enable me to carry on a somewhat halting conversation…lapsing now and then into Spanish or Portuguese. Charles was very encouraging and I often talked to him in English, with him helping me along.

Then suddenly the happy days were over. I had known we could not stay indefinitely at Hampton Court. We would return to Whitehall and perhaps make a progress through the country. There would be more presentations, more levees and more ceremonies generally to be attended.

It appeared that some dispatches had arrived for Charles and he had to leave at once. He assured me he would not be away for long.

“It is urgent business,” he said.

I wanted to share everything and was disappointed that he did not tell me the nature of this urgent business.

So he went away and I felt very lonely, which was silly of me. He would soon be back, I assured myself. Perhaps that very day.

He did not return that day.

I noticed that there was a great deal of whispering and giggling among the ladies. I guessed something amusing, interesting — perhaps scandalous — was taking place at the court, and I felt shut out. How frustrating it was not to be able to interpret the words…to feel excluded.

I was preparing to retire that night and found myself alone with Lady Suffolk, and in faltering English I asked what had happened to amuse the ladies.

She hesitated and I thought she was going to say she did not understand, as I fancied she might do if she thought the subject was not for my ears.

Then suddenly she seemed to make up her mind. She said slowly and clearly, so that I understood most of what she said: “It is something which has happened to one of the ladies.”

“Something…of scandal…is that the word?”

“It is the word, Your Majesty…and it fits the case perfectly.”

“Tell me…”

She looked puzzled for a moment and then she said: “Oh, this lady has left her husband.”

“And that is this…scandal?”

“In the circumstances, yes.”

“What are this circumstances?”

“She has just given birth to a baby boy.”

“And this?”

“Well…Your Majesty. Her husband is a Catholic, and the child has been baptized in the Catholic faith.”

“And…and this is Protestant country.”

“It is not that so much. The lady says that her husband has no right because the boy is not his. And she is leaving him…her husband, I mean.”

“I do not understand.”

“It is not easy to explain, Your Majesty.”

“But she leave because the child is baptized in the Catholic faith?”

“Yes, she says he has no right. The child should not be baptized as a Catholic just because he is…”

I looked at her in puzzlement. “Because…why is because?”

“She says his father is a very important man and not a Catholic. So she has left her husband, packed up her jewels and possessions of value and taken the child away.”

“And this…amuses?”

“Well, the lady does provide amusement.”

“Because she is a woman who has a child…not her husband’s?”

“That…and other things.”

“So what will be now?”

“That is what everyone waits to see.”

“She is one of the ladies of the court. Then I will know her?”

“Oh, no, Madam. She had been away from the court…having the baby, you see.”

“Who is she? What her name?”

“She is Lady Castlemaine, Madam.”

My heart began to beat fast. I heard my mother’s voice. I remembered the grave look in her eyes. “If by chance you meet this woman — which you should not — you must treat her as though she does not exist. You must never allow her to come to court.”

Lady Suffolk, herself overcome by embarrassment, was not looking at me.

I heard myself faintly: “I do not think I have met this lady.”

I was shaken and wanted to be by myself.

THE NEXT MORNING I felt better. I must stop thinking about Lady Castlemaine. Just because she had once been a friend of the King did not mean that she was now. I had to cast off my conventional ideas. My mother had understood. A young man with Charles’s gifts, his high position — even though at that time his rights were not acknowledged — would have many women to fawn on him. He was human. It was natural. And I was certain now that any amour of the past was over. We were married and he had shown well enough during the time we had been together that he loved me. He had said so many times.

I had to be worldly. I had to understand. The past was over. I must not look back. Soon he would be with me and I should be reassured.

Ignore her, my mother had said. Treat her as though she does not exist.

What sound advice she always gave.

I would forget what I had heard. There would no doubt be many stories about such a woman. It was no concern of mine that she had left her husband.

Charles returned. It was wonderful to see him. His eyes shone with joy at the sight of me. He put his arms round me and picked me up. I was so small and light that it was easy for him.

“Well,” he said. “Have you missed me?”

“Very much,” I answered.

“And I you…so much, my Catherine.”

I felt wonderfully happy.

We talked together. He said my English had certainly improved.

“Lady Suffolk has become my tutor.”

“I would be your tutor.”

“But when the master is away should not another take his place?”

“No one must ever take my place with you, Catherine.”

“Nor mine with you,” I added.

“You are my wife. Does that not mean something?”

“It means everything to me.”

It was wonderful to be together. When we were about to retire for the night he took a paper from his pocket and said carelessly: “Here is a list of the ladies I have agreed shall be in your household.”

I was about to glance at it when he took it from me and put it into a drawer.

“Look at it tomorrow,” he said. “There is time for that later.” He was smiling. “We shall be leaving this place soon and you will need a household fitting for the Queen of England. I know these people well and you have yet to meet them so I can vouch for their suitability…and you know you can take my word. I want you to be well served, my love. So…leave it all to me.”

I said I should be happy to do so.

It was not until the following morning when I was alone that I remembered the paper in the drawer. I took it out and studied it.

I felt faint, for the name at the top of the list was that of Lady Castlemaine.

My hands were trembling. What could this mean? He had chosen this woman, who had been his mistress, and was now involved in some scandal, as one of my ladies-in-waiting!

I could not understand what it meant. “Ignore her. Do not have her near you,” my mother had said.

I would not. I took up my pen and scratched out her name.

I sent for my secretary, Sir Richard Bellings, and said to him in Spanish, “Sir Richard, this is the suggested list of the ladies of my household. I have amended it. You will know where to take it.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said and took the paper from me.

I sat down. I felt dizziness coming over me and I thought I was going to faint.

I sat there trembling, wondering what this could mean.

CHARLES CAME TO ME. He dismissed the women who were with me and I knew what he wanted to talk about before he began.

He said: “I see you have scratched out the name of Lady Castlemaine on the list I left for you.”

“Oh yes,” I said, speaking in Spanish. I was too emotional to think in English. “I could not have her in my household.”

“I have selected her,” he said coolly. “I have promised her the place.”

“How could you do such a thing?”

“My dear Catherine, I am choosing those whom I think would serve you best.”

Like most docile people, I am aroused to temper rarely, but when it is released it is apt to be more fierce than tempers which are allowed to show themselves more often. I felt angry now, and my anger was the greater because of the sadness behind it. He had chosen her. There could be only one reason. Because he wanted her here. She had been his mistress. She had borne a child. Whose child? She had left her husband, implying that he had no claim on the child. Then who…? It was becoming clear to me. The urgent business which had taken him away from Hampton Court had been to go to her. I had been deceived. I had been innocent…ignorant…and he had used my innocence to betray me.

I said: “Are you sure you do not mean she would serve you best?”

“What does that mean?” he demanded.

“It means that I know she has been your mistress in the past. The indication to me is that she still occupies that dubious position.”

He was angry; he was disturbed; but even so he managed to be amused. I felt then that he would be amused by any situation, no matter what pain it caused to others.

“What amuses you?” I could not help asking.

“Your solemnity, my dear. This is nothing…a bagatelle. We can arrange this.”

“I have already done so by crossing her name off the list.”

“But I wish her to have the post.”

“Why?”

“Because she is the most suitable for it. I know these ladies.”

“Very well, it would seem.”

“Catherine, you are so different. Where is my sweet little wife?”

“You cannot expect sweetness from her when she is asked to accept your mistress into her household.”

“I admit to a liaison in the past. There were…others, you know. It is natural enough. I was never meant to be a monk. All that is changed now. I swear I have not been with Barbara since our marriage.”

“Barbara!”

“Barbara Palmer, Lady Castlemaine.”

“And you are now proposing to resume the relationship?”

“Catherine! What has happened to you?”

“I should have thought that would have been clear.”

“This jealousy…this unreasonableness…it is so unlike you.”

“I saw no reason for jealousy before this.”

“There is none now. Catherine, you are the Queen. You must behave like one.”

“And tolerate the presence of my husband’s mistress in my bedchamber?”

“She is not my mistress now.”

“She was.”

“I have never denied it. Listen to me. I will vouch for her. She will serve you well. Do you think I would not insist on that? Never think for a moment that she should be allowed to presume on her past relationship with me. If there were any sign of that, she would be dismissed. I promise you that.”

He held out his arms to me and smiled apologetically.

But I kept hearing my mother’s words. “Do not receive her. Do not have her in your court.”

I turned away. I thought: my heart is broken. Whatever he says, he wants her here. I have been deceived by him. So much charm…so many assurances of devotion…they did not go very deeply.

I said in a cold voice: “Charles, I will not have that woman in my household.”

His manner changed. I had never seen him look like that before. His face had darkened. He looked saturnine.

But he said nothing. He turned away and walked out of the room.