The Merry Monarch's Wife

THE MASTER OF HORSE

I HAD BEGUN TO GET BETTER BUT MY RECOVERY WAS VERY slow. I was desolate to have lost the child, and yet at the same time Charles’s grief at the thought of losing me had made me so happy that I was in a measure compensated. I think it was the sight of his sorrowful face, tortured by genuine love and remorse, which gave me the extra willpower I needed.

I saw Charles every day during that time. He would sit by my bed amusing me with tales of what was happening at the court. He told them so wittily that we laughed continuously and I was very happy.

I was also deeply touched, for his hair had gone gray.

“You are to blame for these gray hairs,” he told me. “They are the sign of my anxiety over you.”

There was a fashion among some of the courtiers, whose hair was not as they would have liked it to be, of wearing periwigs of magnificent curls. When Charles appeared in one I clapped my hands.

“It is splendid,” I said.

“I feared you might not like it.”

“Oh,” I replied. “Since you told me the gray hairs grew out of your concern for me I loved them.” On the other hand, I had to admit that the wig was becoming. Whereas on someone of shorter stature it could have seemed overpowering, with his height he could carry it off beautifully.

“Well,” he said, “the nation would not want an old grayhead for their King. At least now they will be less aware of it.”

As I grew stronger I walked in the park with him. We would, as he said, “saunter.” Sauntering was a habit he liked well. We would be surrounded by courtiers, and with Charles at the center of the group the conversation was invariably merry.

When the weather was warm the ladies carried fans. These had become fashionable since my marriage. Most of the fans came from Bombay and there were all kinds — some most beautifully painted. The ladies fluttered them coquettishly and they were becoming an essential part of a lady’s equipage.

That could have been a happy time for me, but for the fact that Lady Castlemaine and Frances Stuart were at court and there was scarcely a day when I did not see them.

The Lady’s animosity toward Frances Stuart caused great amusement; and although Charles remained kind and tender toward me, it was clear that he was deeply infatuated with Frances Stuart.

Donna Maria gave thanks to God every day for my recovery. In spite of the fact that she exasperated me at times, I was deeply conscious of her devotion to me; and besides, being my only real connection with my native land, she was the best friend I had ever had.

Alas, she was getting more and more feeble every day. It was sad to see her peering at me, for her eyesight was rapidly fading. She must have been lonely, for she had little contact with other people; yet when she had had an opportunity of going home with the other members of my household, she had refused to take it. In fact she had fought against it and clung to me.

She knew, of course, how matters stood at court. She understood that, in spite of his protestations of love for me when he believed I was on the point of death, Charles was now spending his nights with Lady Castlemaine and sighing for Frances Stuart.

It was now considered at court that Frances meant that she would not become any man’s mistress; some believed that this was her way of leading the King on and that he was approaching such desperation that he would promise her anything in exchange for her surrender.

To console me, Maria often told me how the King had come to sit with me during my illness, how he had wept, and how his anguish had been too deep to have been assumed.

“I was surprised that he cared for you so much,” she said. “But he did…indeed he did. I often saw his tears. One would not expect a king to weep. You were light-headed. You rambled on. You were thinking of the child…you thought you had it. You said, ‘He is a fine boy. He is ugly but he has a great charm…’ And the King cried, ‘What do you mean? He is a beautiful boy. He is the most beautiful boy in the world.’ And you talked of the children you believed you had, and the King talked with you and you smiled and listened, and said how wonderful it was to have those children….

“He said afterward that if you talked of the child…or the children…we must listen to you…we must pretend because it made you happy. Above all, he said it was necessary that you should be happy…so happy that you would want to live. He said, ‘When the Queen is well, she will know the truth, but until then we must keep her happy.’ And he would sit there and tell you what the children had done, and you smiled and laughed. And, yes…you were happy. And it broke our hearts, it did indeed.”

“How wonderful of him!” I cried. “He truly cared.”

“One would have thought so.” Donna Maria’s lips hardened. She would never understand his enthralment to those women.

But he had loved me. He had cared. He had suffered because he had thought he was losing me. I should always remember that. When I saw his gaiety with Lady Castlemaine, his burning gaze fixed on La Belle Stuarte…I would remember.

THE DEPTH OF his commitment to Frances Stuart was obvious over the matter of the calash; and all those courtiers who gambled on what the outcome would be began to understand the depth of his feelings for her. It was over a hundred years ago when another King of England had become so enamored of a woman that his kingdom rocked over the matter and he could have lost his crown. England had broken with Rome when Henry VIII decided that he must marry Anne Boleyn, and demanded a divorce from his Queen which the Pope had refused him. There must have been deep speculation in the minds of many as to how far Charles’s infatuation with Frances Stuart would carry him.

Then the calash arrived. It was the most magnificent vehicle we had ever seen. It came from France and was a present to Charles to mark the good relations between the two countries.

Everyone was amazed by it and the question arose as to who should be the first to ride in it.

Anne Hyde, Duchess of York, came to me and said: “You should be the one to ride first in it, and if you have a companion, which you should, I should be that one. After all, you are the King’s wife. I am the wife of his brother.”

I looked at Anne intently. I knew her to be a very shrewd woman; and since my illness, when I had lost the child I was carrying, there was a subtle difference in her manner. I guessed what was in her mind. If I had no children, James would be next in line to the throne…and Anne Hyde would be Queen of England.

It was a natural assumption. I had lost one child. There had been hints by the physicians that I might not find it easy to bear children and that, if I attempted to, I might put my life at risk. So, with regard to the calash, I saw her point. It would be fitting that we should ride in the coach to show it to the people — the present Queen and the one who could well one day be the next.

Lady Castlemaine, of course, wanted to be the first to ride in the handsome vehicle. Moreover, she was firmly determined to. She was more aggressive than ever, realizing, I was sure, that she could only cling to the title of maîtresse-en-titre because of Frances Stuart’s refusal to take her place.

She felt it necessary to show the people that she reigned supreme, and she would do this by riding in the calash, splendidly gowned and glittering with jewels. Perhaps she would take young Monmouth with her.

I had mentioned to the King that I should be pleased to be the first to ride in the calash and I thought Anne Hyde should be beside me.

Charles was evasive, which told me that Lady Castlemaine was already making her demands.

He always took the easy way out, and the Lady’s claims would be made in her usual vociferous manner. She was pregnant again, by the King presumably — or that was what she would have everyone believe. What a fruitful woman she was! Why was it that I, who so desperately wanted a child, could not get even one?

She declared that unless the King allowed her to ride in the calash, she would miscarry the child, for it was clear that its father cared nothing for it since he could be so indifferent to its mother.

The court listened amused; and the matter of the calash became quite an issue, with everyone waiting and gambling on the result.

The result came one evening when the court was assembled.

Frances was present, the King hovering near her as usual. She was engaged in her favorite occupation…building up the cards. Buckingham was competing with her.

Frances was adept at the silly business. Buckingham’s house tottered slightly and when Frances screamed with delight the King applauded.

Those around were taking bets on whose house would stand longest, and Frances was the favorite.

Suddenly Frances said to Charles: “What will you give me if I win?”

There was a certain seriousness in her manner which I had not noticed before. It was almost as though there were some subtle meaning behind her words.

He said: “I will give you anything you ask.”

She smiled and turned to her cards.

With a neat little flick of the thumb, which I thought could have been intentional, Buckingham let his house totter and collapse.

Frances squealed with pleasure and everyone applauded.

She turned to the King.

“Well,” he said, “what is it you ask?”

“That I be the first to ride in the calash,” said Frances guilelessly.

The King hesitated.

“Your Majesty promised,” lisped Frances.

“So did I,” said Charles. “Then…” he lifted his shoulders, “the matter is settled. You must be the first to ride in the calash.”

SO FRANCES STUART RODE in the calash; and the people came out to see her and they were amazed by her beauty. She really was a most enchanting-looking creature, and if it were not necessary to listen to her simpering inanities, I could understand why people marvelled at her.

Lady Castlemaine was furious. She went to the Cockpit and stayed there for several days. As for myself, I felt extremely hurt. I tried to think of Charles as he had sat at my bedside, and I said to myself: it was nothing. It was the emotion of the moment, the few pangs of a guilty conscience. How can he care for me if he humiliates me? Then I remembered the past when I had been so unhappy and I reminded myself that I must accept this if I wanted to stay near him and keep his regard.

There was an alert air in the court. Frances Stuart had made a request which had been granted, much to the chagrin of the Lady, and that must mean something. Frances was tired of playing the innocent game, some believed. She was going to take up her position of reigning mistress at the court. It was an opportunity she had at least realized she could not miss.

The Duke of Buckingham was constantly at Frances’s side. I was sure he had some scheme afoot.

I was tired of these amorous intrigues.

Once I found myself alone with Edward Montague and the compassionate look in his eyes made me feel that I wanted to talk to him. He was one of the few people I could trust.

“Your Majesty is grieving over this matter of the calash,” he said.

I replied: “I believe Miss Stuart became it well.”

Edward’s mouth turned down with disapproval.

“Your Majesty and the Duchess of York should have been the first to ride in it.”

“Oh…it was of no importance.”

“Only if Your Majesty found it so.”

“There was a great deal of talk throughout the court about the foolish matter.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Well, ’tis over and done. Do you think my English is improving, Mr. Montague?”

“Indeed it is, Madam. You have attained fluency.”

“You are flattering me. I am still hesitant. The King laughs at me.”

Again that look of disapproval.

“Methings he should applaud Your Majesty.”

“Oh, he does…he does. But as you know, the King laughs at many things.”

He nodded again. His eyes were eloquent. He was telling me that he knew of my unhappiness and he would do anything in his power for me.

It was very comforting.

I thought he might be regretting the return of the monarchy. He was very serious-minded, a religious man to whom the foibles of the King seemed very sinful.

I could not doubt his devotion to me. I only had to hint at the smallest service and it was performed with a deep enthusiasm.

THE POSITION AT COURT was still the same. Frances was as aloof as ever. I had a feeling that Buckingham was intriguing in some way. There was an air of secretive amusement about him.

I was right about this, and I learned so from an unexpected quarter; none other than Lady Castlemaine herself.

I was amazed one day when one of her servants arrived with a message for me. Her ladyship begged me to grant her an interview where we might talk alone, for she had something of importance to say to me.

I was filled with apprehension, and my inclination was to refuse to see her. What good had she ever done to me? I had alienated the King by showing my disapproval of her, and had lost his respect by feigning to accept her. I wanted nothing to do with the woman.

Why should she wish to see me? But I knew all the time that I would not refuse. That would be folly. I must know what this meant.

She came, more soberly dressed than usual, yet even so, I was struck by her beauty. It forced itself upon one. There was really no need for the elaborate patches, the feather and the jewels. She was magnificent just in herself.

She looked different, almost pious. That brazen determination to call attention to herself was gone.

“Your Majesty, it is so kind of you to receive me.” I could scarcely believe in this humility. There must be a reason.

It came.

“A somewhat dastardly plot has come to my ears. I keep in touch with what is going on around me. I have very good and faithful servants — and my Mrs. Sarah, who cooks for me, has a husband in Lord Sandwich’s household. Thus through Mrs. Sarah I heard what is going on there.”

“You must be very knowledgeable, Lady Castlemaine.”

“I am thankful on this occasion that I am.”

“Pray tell me.”

“Buckingham is hatching a plot. One can never trust Buckingham. He is a Villiers, as I am…of my family. That is why I understand him more than most people can. He is a most ambitious man.”

“I quickly became aware of that.”

“Of a certainty, Your Majesty would. You have taken his measure. I doubt not, Madam, we must stop this wicked plot.”

“I am waiting to hear what it is.”

“Your Majesty must forgive my broaching this matter, but we must be frank. You and I are not so foolish as to turn our eyes from what is blatantly true. We face the facts. It is the only way to deal with them. Your Majesty knows as well as I do that the King is enamored of that silly little Stuart girl.”

I bowed my head in assent.

“And she holds out against his wooing. I know Buckingham. He has become close to the girl. Oh, I do not mean that he is her lover. She remains aloof from all her admirers. That much I have proved. She is quite brainless and as simple as a child of six years. She has some notion that she must withhold that precious body of hers until someone comes along who will marry her and give her great titles.”

“There are many who would say that is the moral attitude to take.”

Lady Castlemaine drew a deep breath to suppress her impatience.

“Buckingham believes that he knows how to manipulate her. He can play that card game better than anyone else, which makes him something of a genius in silly Frances’s eyes. He has a plan that she shall become the King’s mistress and he shall rule through her…lead her to take the King the way he wants him to go. Thus power to Buckingham and Arlington, and Sandwich, who are in this vile plot.”

“How do they propose to bring it about?”

“That is what I have come to tell Your Majesty, for I think they can be foiled, and after all, much as we despise the silly Stuart, she is an innocent girl and the plot is monstrous.”

“Please go on.”

“The Duchess of Buckingham is giving a ball tomorrow night.”

“I know of that.”

“Poor Mary Fairfax! I do not doubt she wishes she had married a nice sober gentleman from Cromwell’s band. She thought she was doing so well to get Buckingham…and so did Fairfax! What does poor Mary think now? Wife of the Duke? It may have some compensation. Well, Mary is to give a ball. The King will be there…and so will Frances…and Buckingham, Arlington and Sandwich. They think this game of playing the vestal virgin has gone on too long. It is disturbing the King. He is morose and frustrated and that spoils the fun. So they plan to bring it to an end.”

“How?”

“This is what I have come to tell you. Frances will be present. She will call for the cards, of course. And then there will be the usual silly contest. She will sit there and play her game for hours, and while she is doing it, she will be plied with drink. Frances is not accustomed to that. She is by nature abstemious. The drinks will be especially strong — treated in some way — and when she is so absorbed in her game dear Frances will have more than is good for her. In such a mood she will be spirited away. They have a nice little apartment waiting for her and…there will be the King.”

I felt myself flushing with indignation.

I cried: “And the King…does he know of this?”

She lifted her hands. “I believe he knows nothing of it.”

I was relieved at that. “It’s a dastardly plot,” I said. “It is for Miss Stuart to decide what she will do, and to behave toward a young girl in this way is…scandalous.”

“Your Majesty is of the same opinion as myself. It must not be. We must save this poor girl from this…outrage.”

“I shall tell the King.”

She shook her head emphatically, and I wondered whether she was implying he would be ready to go along with the scheme…which he might well be.

“Then Frances Stuart…”

Again that shrug. “She would not be able to deal with it. They would swear their innocence…and then later try it again. No, we must foil this in a diplomatic way. Your Majesty can do it with the utmost ease.”

“How so?”

“You will go to the ball and decide to leave early. Your Majesty is tired and wishes to retire. You need your lady-in-waiting to return with you. You just command Frances to accompany you.”

“It seems simple.”

“It is,” said Lady Castlemaine, “and it is the way to foil this dastardly plot and preserve Miss Stuart’s virtue.”

“Thank you, Lady Castlemaine,” I said. “I will consider what you have told me.”

She smiled, bowed and left me. If I had not found the situation so distasteful, I could have been amused to see Lady Castlemaine in the role of defender of virtue.

I WAS CAUTIOUS. I wondered what was behind this. I did not trust the Lady. It might be some scheme of hers to embarrass me.

I was unsure.

I could not exactly like Frances Stuart, but I did think she was genuinely virtuous, and it was not her fault that she had been endowed with so much beauty and so little brain.

In due course I went to the ball accompanied by Charles. I was watchful of both Frances and Buckingham and soon became sure that the Lady had been right. Buckingham was looking amused and secretive. He was a man who betrayed his feelings and was a poor plotter because he could not hide the fact that something was in progress.

I believed the story now. It was natural that the Lady should want to prevent the plot’s succeeding, and I knew that Buckingham might well believe that he could rule the King through Frances — absurd as that might seem.

And there was Frances surrounded by her admirers, calling for her beloved cards.

I was watching her. I was aware of Lady Castlemaine, whose eyes met mine conspiratorially.

Buckingham was playing the game with her. Sandwich and Arlington sat one on either side of her. It was true that they were filling her glass.

Frances was flushed and her laughter was louder than usual. Her hands stayed steady, though. She was an adept with her houses of cards.

I said to Lettice Ormonde: “I wish to retire. Please tell Miss Stuart that I shall need her.”

Such an order from the Queen could not be ignored.

With a gesture which sent her house of cards tottering to the floor, Frances rose.

She was a little unsteady.

I saw the black faces of the plotters, and Frances’s unsteady gait and the vacant smile on her face made me certain that Lady Castlemaine’s suspicions had been correct.

What a strange world I lived in when a king’s passion for one of the ladies of his court could result in such a conspiracy!

SHORTLY AFTER THAT I was given an unpleasant shock, and I wondered if it was the result of what had happened about Frances Stuart.

Rumors were circulating throughout the court and, as is usually the case, the one most deeply concerned is the last to hear of them.

Buckingham may have realized that his scheme to set up Frances Stuart as Charles’s chief mistress, when he, Buckingham, would guide her how to influence the King, had been foiled by me in league with Lady Castlemaine.

I had no desire to be caught up in their intrigues, but it seemed I had in this one.

That Lady Castlemaine should have done everything in her power to prevent Frances Stuart from becoming the King’s mistress was clear enough, but why should I care whether it was Lady Castlemaine or Frances Stuart? In fact Frances Stuart woud have been preferable.

In any case, I had spoiled Buckingham’s plan and Frances Stuart would be on the alert if he should attempt such a thing again.

I was sure these rumors were set in motion by Buckingham and his friends.

The first clue I had came one evening at supper. We were talking as usual. Charles was in a merry mood and was entertaining the company with his conversation. Buckingham was singing a song — one of the King’s own composition about the pleasures of love.

I was following the conversation more easily nowadays and my grasp of the language enabled me to express myself more intelligently, if a little quaintly. Buckingham was talking about a dishonest servant in his household who had been found stealing.

“And our servants…they surround us. We have need of them as they have need of us. How fortunate we are when we find those who serve us faithfully and loyally.” He was smiling at me. “Your Majesty knows this well. You have at least one good and faithful servant — your noble Master of Horse. I’ll warrant he is always ready at hand to give good service to his mistress.”

There was a short silence. I distinctly heard someone smother a laugh.

I did not understand what this meant and I forgot it almost at once. It was only later that I realized the implication of these words.

At the time I said: “My Master of Horse has always been a good servant to me…from the time I came here.”

“But of course,” Charles said lightly. “I chose him for you, my dear.”

Then the conversation went on as usual.

The next day when I sent for my Master of Horse, I was told that he had gone.

“Gone?” I cried. “Gone where?”

“I do not know, Your Majesty. On the King’s orders he was dismissed from his post and told that he was no longer Your Majesty’s Master of Horse.”

This was a blow to me. My friendship with Edward Montague had been genuine. I had liked his serious conversation and his sympathy, which I sensed though it was not spoken of.

When I saw Charles I said: “They have sent away my Master of Horse. Why?”

Charles looked at me in astonishment. “He could not remain after Buckingham’s insinuation.”

“I do not understand.”

“Buckingham is an insolent fellow. He goes too far. He’ll have to be curbed. They have been saying in the court that you had become too friendly with your Master of Horse.”

“Too friendly! But he is a good friend.”

“My dear Catherine.” He laid his hands on my shoulders and smiled gently at me. “I know you would never take a lover. Though…God knows…could I blame you? It would not be wise though. There is the succession.”

“I do not understand what you say.”

“Rumors have been going round the court that Montague was your lover.”

“How dare they!”

“Oh, they dare a great deal for gossip. They lie…they slander…it’s all a game to them. But Buckingham’s insolence made it impossible for Montague to stay in his position.”

“It is cruel…so untrue.”

“The world is cruel sometimes.” He looked at me with compassion, and I knew he was telling me how sorry he was that he was not a better husband. He knew I had turned to Edward Montague for a little sympathy and understanding. That was what was so lovable about Charles. He was as worldliwise as his courtiers, but with his cynicism and abandonment to pleasure, there was also kindness and understanding of those who were not like himself.

“Montague had to go,” he went on. “I know he was a good fellow…a good friend of yours…and when I say friend I mean just friend. But there was talk. Malicious talk, as there always is and always will be, and we have to consider the effect of such talk…even though we know it to be false. Choose another Master of Horse.”

“I will not. I cannot. I should have been consulted.”

He shook his head. “It had to be. You must understand that he had to go. You have to walk very carefully because you are the Queen.”

“As carefully as you do,” I could not help retorting.

“I am a sinner and the world knows it, but you, my dear, must be above reproach.”

“And all your friends…?”

He lifted his shoulders.

“You are going to give us the heir to the throne and no one must be allowed by word or look even to imply that his father is other than the King.”

“You do not think…,” I began.

He shook his head and kissed me tenderly.

“I know you to be good and virtuous…far too good for me. But that is life…and here we are. Now, you must have a new Master of Horse.”

I DID NOT IMMEDIATELY CHOOSE anyone to replace Edward Montague. I was too upset not only by the loss of a good friend but by the wicked interpretation which had been put on our friendship by those who wished me harm.

I knew Charles did not believe this calumny. I wondered whether he would have blamed me if the scandal had been true. He continued in his relationship with Lady Castlemaine, although her lovers were so numerous that I had heard it said she would not remember how many there had been.

Lady Castlemaine had had the temerity to suggest a replacement for my Master of Horse, and I had indignantly rejected her choice. I told Charles that I had no intention of taking a new man yet. I was too upset by the manner in which Edward Montague had been dismissed.

The intrigues of the court were dimmed into insignificance by the trouble with the Dutch. For some time there had been conflict between Dutch and English fishermen and there were several fights at sea during which the vessels of both nationalities were sunk. English merchants were continually complaining that their trade was being damaged by the Dutch.

Caricatures were smuggled into the country. There were many directed against Charles and they caused him considerable annoyance. In one he was depicted with the pockets of his jacket hanging out empty to indicate the poverty of the exchequer, and in another he was led by one woman while another was clinging to his coattails and others were running after him.

They were meant as insults and to show the contempt in which the Dutch held the King of England — and the country, for that matter.

Charles was more serious that I had ever seen him before. He gave up his daily habit of sauntering in the park. He had always loved to walk there, his dogs at his heels and surrounded by his favorites.

But a subtle change had come over him. He had always been interested in ships, an enthusiasm shared by the Duke of York. A new vessel was being built and he paid constant visits to the dockyards and spent a great deal of time there poring over plans and talking with the shipbuilders. Admiral the Earl of Sandwich was constantly in his company.

I realized what was happening. The battles between our sailors and the Dutch, and the insolent comment on the King’s activities, were leading somewhere.

On one occasion Charles talked to me.

“I do not like the situation,” he said. “I am afraid there may be war. War is senseless. I have had my fill of it. Odds fish, I never want to see a war again as long as I live.”

It was inevitable that it should happen. We were at war with Holland. The fleet was to leave with the Duke of York in charge, and Charles was going to Chatham to see it set out. I begged to be allowed to accompany him and was delighted when he agreed that I should.

It was a great occasion, though a solemn one. Queen Henrietta Maria joined us there and I was pleased when she greeted me with the utmost warmth and told me how pleased she was that Lady Castlemaine was not with us on this occasion.

“I cannot understand why Charles keeps that woman about him,” she said. “One would have thought he had had enough of her by this time. And that Stuart girl? What of her?”

I could talk easily to my mother-in-law, so I told her that Frances Stuart was still holding back, and that the King remained deeply enamored of her though he still very often supped with Lady Castlemaine.

“It is trying,” she said. “It is a pity Charles does not take after his father. He was always such a faithful husband. But I lost him…Charles will never go the way he did. Charles has too much respect for his head. He will keep it where it belongs. But I wish his heart was not so susceptible. And there is this war now…and England is not very friendly with the French either…or the Spaniards. Well, they are the natural enemies.

“I pray this Dutch matter will soon be over and you, my dear, will soon give birth to the heir to the throne.”

“I was unfortunate…”

“My heart bleeds for you, chérie. And no other in sight? Some breed easily. Others cannot. This is the story of history. It is littered with queens who could not have any children and those who had too many. How perverse life is! But you must have a child, my dear. That will make all the difference.”

“I know.”

“I pray for it.”

It was good to be with her. She stood between Charles and me and shared our pride as the newly launched Loyal London sailed away.

THE WINTER WAS BITTERLY COLD — one of the worst people remembered. We were all looking forward to the spring and victory over the Dutch; but with the coming of that beautiful season, tragedy struck.

Earlier in the year, people had been amazed, and not a little alarmed, because a strange spectacle had been seen in the sky. It appeared at certain times and was like a misty star with a bright tail. Charles was very interested in the stars and would watch for it every night. I used to sit with him and look at this strange object. I think he was rather pleased by my interest. It was not the sort of phenomenon which would interest Lady Castlemaine or the fair Stuart.

Some said it was an evil omen and recalled a similar display in the sky in the year 1066 — the year of the Norman Conquest.

We heard that in some parts of the country there had been a certain disease which was easily passed from one person to another and few who had the misfortune to fall victim of it survived.

I remember the day well. It was April. The weather was beginning to get warm. A man had collapsed in Cheapside and when people approached him they saw that he was shivering and delirious. He had opened his shirt and there on his chest was the dreaded spot…the macula which was a sign that the victim was suffering from the plague.

He was dead. Others were found. They had collapsed in the streets before they could reach shelter.

It soon became clear that the plague had come to London.

It spread with alarming rapidity. There was great consternation and a hasty meeting of Parliament. Everyone in the city was in danger, and drastic measures were needed.

It was decided that the King and the court must leave, for it would be disastrous if the King should become a victim. The country was in a state of uncertainty. We were at war with the Dutch; but the first importance was the health of the citizens.

Charles was no coward. He said he would stay with the people, but the folly of such a sacrifice was pressed upon him. The Duke of York was engaged with the navy; he must of necessity be in a certain danger, so the King must protect himself.

We left London for Salisbury. The Duke of Albermarle remained in London to look after affairs there with Archbishop Sheldon. Both these men proved to be magnificent and I was sure did a great deal to prevent the epidemic becoming more terrible than it was.

Charles was very unhappy at that time. I had never known him to be so serious. He felt deeply disturbed because he was not in London and he had news of what was happening there brought to him every day.

The weather was sweltering hot during that June, July and August and people were dying by the hundreds in the capital.

The Duke of Albermarle had acted quickly and firmly. He reported what he was doing and Charles said he could not have been a better man for the task. The greatest need was to stop the disease spreading. Any house where one of the inmates had contracted the disease must immediately be marked with a red cross and the words “Lord Have Mercy upon us” painted below the cross; and if any of the inmates left that house before a month had elapsed since a victim had died, that would be breaking the law.

Charles and I were closer together during this period. He had little desire to sup with his friends and make merry. He talked seriously of what this would mean.

Firstly we must discover what caused the disease. That it had been brought into England from some other country seemed certain. It was so infectious that it spread with rapidity, which was alarming, and we had to find the cause.

Meanwhile London was like a ghost city. Grass was growing among the cobbles of the streets, for few walked in them now. During the night the death cart roamed through the streets, its dismal bell tinkling in the stillness.

“Bring out your dead,” called the crier; and the cart was filled with bodies.

There was no time to bury the corpses ceremonially. Pits had been dug outside the city and into these the bodies were piled.

There were some very noble and selfless men in London at that time. Archbishop Sheldon was one; another was the Reverend Thomas Vincent. There were others — men of religion who went into stricken houses and gave comfort to the sufferers. It was surprising that they emerged unscathed. I believe their faith preserved them.

There were stories of people who behaved with somewhat less heroism; there were some who deserted wives, husbands and even children to escape infection. Thus many victims were left alone to die.

We were cheered by news of the Duke of York’s victory over the Dutch at Harwich.

Charles told me that the English had taken eighteen of the enemy’s ships and destroyed fourteen more.

“And what were our losses?” I asked.

“The comparison is trifling. We lost only one ship. Alas, several of our men were lost, but few in comparison with the seven thousand they did. And we lost two admirals; the Earls of Falmouth and Marlborough and Portland have also gone. These things must be.”

“Is it going to shorten the war?”

Charles was dubious. “At least,” he said, “it is a turn in our fortunes, and people will cease to brood on the evil warnings of the comet.”

He looked at me quizzically and went on: “You might be interested to know that your one-time Master of Horse, Edward Montague, has joined the navy…under Sandwich.”

“The navy?”

“Well, we have need of all the men we can muster.”

“But he loved horses.”

“Poor Edward. I fear he was deeply hurt by his dismissal.”

“Maybe when he returns…”

Charles gave me another of those intent looks. “Who can say what will happen when the war is over?”

I THOUGHT OF EDWARD MONTAGUE a good deal. I had not realized before that he really had cared for me. I had been too innocent to recognize the signs. I remembered his concern for me, his compassion and his sympathy. The way his eyes would shine when I appeared. Perhaps those were the signs of love which others had noticed.

He must have been very unhappy when he was dismissed, and that dismissal was instant so there was no time to tell me what had taken place.

And he had joined the navy. That would have been easy for him as the admiral, the Earl of Sandwich, was related to him.

I missed him more than I had believed possible. I suppose when one’s husband so blatantly prefers other women there is great comfort in the attentions of someone else — particularly if he is a serious man, not given to light-hearted flirtations, a man who clearly disapproves of the licentiousness of the court, a man of charm and dignity.

I should never have taken a lover, of course, and I am sure Edward Montague would never have indulged in an illicit affair; but he had been there, he had cared for me, and that had meant a great deal to me.

They were melancholy days. The King was worried about the money which was needed to pursue the war. There was bad news from London where thousands were dying every week.

An attempt had been made at Bergen by the Earl of Sandwich to capture a fleet of Dutch ships which were sheltering in the harbour there. The action had been one of complete disaster for the English and there were many casualties. One of them was Edward Montague.

It was a great shock to hear of his death. I had so many memories of him. I thought how strange fate was. But for those people who had provoked a scandal about him, he would have been with me still.

Edward Montague dead! I was overwhelmed by sadness.