The Merry Monarch's Wife qoe-9

by Виктория Холт

  The King was neglecting Lady Castlemaine. There was no doubt of that. He was spending more and more time with Frances. How could he appear to be so absorbed in those ridiculous card houses!

  The Lady herself assumed an air of indifference and gave her attention to James Crofts.

  Were they lovers? I could not believe it. He was such a boy. Was she really attracted by him? There had been so many to share her bed that I supposed one more made little difference — and perhaps she would find his youth rather piquant.

  I guessed that the King was not pleased by this growing friendship between his mistress and his son.

  James Crofts and Charles were often together and Charles clearly showed his affection, as though he wanted everyone to know in what esteem he held the boy. He wanted him to have the respect of everyone and to be treated almost as royalty.

  Once when James Crofts was dancing with me, hat in hand, according to the custom of showing respect to royalty, Charles called out that he might put on his hat. James did so with a smile of pleasure. It was tantamount to a public declaration of his royal birth.

  James Crofts was in some ways similar to the King. He lacked Charles’s wit and wisdom, of course, but then he was very young. though I fancied Charles had been born with his. James Crofts was very handsome, although he had none of Charles’s charm, but in looks he resembled the Stuarts and that was enough, for it meant that no one could doubt he was the King’s son.

  Charles said to me one day, and there was an alert look in his eyes as he spoke and I, who was beginning to know him well, guessed that there was something more than the words implied: “It is time I did something about James Crofts.”

  I asked what he had in mind.

  “He is my son,” he said. “There is no doubt of that, and he should have some standing at court.”

  “He has already.”

  “That is so. As my son, he is received by all. But I thought of a more tangible sign.”

  “You are going to endow him with titles and estates.”

  “Exactly so. And I think it is time he married.”

  “Is he not somewhat young?”

  “He is old enough. He is a Stuart. It will keep him out of mischief.”

  He was no doubt thinking of James Crofts’s involvement with Lady Castlemaine, I guessed.

  “Does marriage do so?” I could not help saying.

  “I think it might absorb him…for a while…until he gets older…wiser…more able to conduct his life. So he shall be made a duke.”

  “A duke!”

  “The titles of the Duke of Orkney are now available.”

  I felt a sudden shiver of alarm. Did Charles think of giving his bastard son such honors because there was a possibility of his coming to the throne? I had been Charles’s wife for some months…nine or so…and there was no sign that I was to have a child. Perhaps it was early yet. But was that in his mind?

  Charles was saying: “He will be Baron Tyndale, Earl of Doncaster and Duke of Monmouth.”

  “That will set him very high, will it not?”

  Charles was smiling. “Indeed yes. He will take precedent over all the dukes who are not of royal blood…so my brother James cannot object. He will still come before Jemmy.”

  “It will be a great honor for the young man.”

  “He is a good boy. I have high hopes of him. And when he is the Duke of Monmouth, he shall be married.”

  “You have selected the bride?”

  “Yes. It is Anne Scott, the Duchess of Buccleuch. She came into the title on the death of her father…together with a goodly fortune.”

  “I see.”

  “You look doubtful. Do you not think it is a good arrangement?”

  “Yes…from James’s point of view. I wonder what the bride is thinking.”

  “She will be thinking how lucky she is to get such a handsome young fellow for a bridegroom.”

  * * *

  ON A BLEAK FEBRUARY DAY James Crofts became the Duke of Monmouth and less than eight weeks later he was married in the King’s Chamber to the Duchess of Buccleuch and took the name of James Scott.

  Lady Castlemaine was displeased. She would have to be more careful how she behaved with the Duke of Monmouth than she had been with simple James Crofts. As for myself, I felt a return of melancholy.

  Charles was accepting his bastard son. He was giving him great honor; they were often in each other’s company. Monmouth could not have been treated with more deference if he had been the King’s legitimate son.

  True, Charles liked the boy, but his actions I felt showed something more than that.

  I was failing. So far I had not produced an heir. The King was saying, see what a handsome boy I can get. It is only the Queen who fails me.

  My spirits were lifted by the news from Portugal.

  There had been a great victory at Amexial, which was largely due to the efforts of the English whom Charles had sent to fight beside my countrymen.

  My mother’s letter was ecstatic. She blessed my marriage. She had always known how important it would be, she wrote:

  My dearest daughter,

  You cannot know how happy my people are. We shall always be grateful to our wonderful ally and for you who have done so much to make this possible.

  I was proud and happy. I forgot the slights and humiliations then. Charles was my husband. No one could change that…not even Lady Castlemaine or La Belle Stuarte. I was his wife and it was his soldiers who had saved my country.

  I told Charles how delighted I was and would have gone down on my knees to thank him, but he would have none of that.

  “It was a small matter,” he said. “It is not the first time we have shown these Spaniards that they are not as mighty as they believe themselves to be. And since our little effort has given you so much pleasure, I am happy.”

  “Oh Charles,” I cried. “How can I thank you?”

  “By being with me…by loving me…by giving me so much to be thankful for.”

  Words of a lover! If only I could have believed them!

  “There was one little incident which will amuse you,” he said. “It did not amuse our men. But never fear. All is well now.”

  “What happened?” I asked in alarm.

  “Nothing to fear. All is well. But your brother…he is an odd fellow.”

  “Well, my mother usually tells him what to do.”

  “I’ll vow she did not tell him what to do on this occasion. Odds fish! It might have caused a riot.”

  “Please tell me quickly, what has Alfonso done?”

  “He thanked my men for their help and told them that, for their pains, they were to receive a pinch of snuff.”

  “A pinch of snuff!”

  Charles lifted his eyebrows. “These men after all, are not in the business of war because they care for causes. What they look for is some of the spoils, and I do not think these would include a pinch of snuff.”

  I covered my face with my hands. How could Alfonso have been so stupid! But then he was unfit to govern. I knew that, and none knew it more than my mother. That was why she, to all intents, was the ruler. But Alfonso at that time must have escaped her vigilance. What had they thought of him?

  Charles took my hands from my face and kissed them.

  “No need for alarm. I have ordered that forty thousand crowns shall be distributed among them to compensate them for their efforts.”

  “Oh Charles…how could he!”

  “Let us not think of him. We have beaten the Spaniards. Your country is free of them for now. We should make merry.”

  I thought then what a lot I owed him. Whatever sadness my life here brought to me, I must accept it. I must remember what my marriage had done for my country. I had to accept Charles’s amours. I had to grow up. I had to adopt a new set of morals…cast aside my upbringing. I had to act as many a queen before me had had to do.

  * * *

  THERE WAS MORE GOOD NEWS.

  I believe my letter to the P
ope had had its effect. He had understood the implication that I was going to do all I could to bring Charles to the faith. Perhaps he knew that James was already a secret Catholic. Henrietta Maria knew it and she was scarcely the most discreet of women.

  I had heard from Charles that her inability to keep a secret could have been in a measure responsible for his father’s downfall. It would have been the last thing she intended; she would have died for her husband, instead she had talked to one of her ladies on that occasion when the five Members of Parliament, headed by John Pym, were to be arrested and taken to the Tower. But, having been warned, the men escaped in time to carry on the war against the King. It seemed to me very likely that somehow, unwittingly, Henrietta Maria would have let out the news of James’s conversion. On this occasion, it could have worked for good, because it might be surmised that if one brother had turned, why not the other? And as Charles’s wife, I was in a position to influence him, so might the Pope think.

  In any event, the Pope had heeded my letter, for to our great joy, he accepted Portugal as a sovereign state and my brother Alfonso as its king.

  To add to my happiness, I believed that I was at last pregnant.

  I was very excited. Everything would be worthwhile now. A child of my own! Our son and heir! Charles was with me more often now. We walked together in the Park. People cheered us. Although they were amused by the King’s amours, at heart they preferred to see me with him rather than Lady Castlemaine. He was seeing less of her — but I did not think that was because of his preference for my society, so much as his preoccupation with Frances Stuart.

  Frances went on in her guileless way, screaming with delight when her opponents’ houses of cards toppled to the ground, making them all join in a game of Blindman’s Bluff. It was so ridiculous. I could not imagine why they did it — except that she was exquisitely beautiful. I had heard it said that she was the only woman at court who had ever outshone Lady Castlemaine in beauty. And she was so different. Everything the Lady was, Frances was the opposite. Simplicity against sophistication; innocence against experience; purity against blatant sexuality; and one might say stupidity against the utmost guile.

  My doctors thought the water of Tunbridge Wells would be good for me, but when I was making arrangements for a journey there, I was informed by my almoner that there were insufficient funds for the journey.

  On making inquiries, I learned that, although according to the contract which had been drawn up at the time of my marriage, I had been promised forty thousand pounds for my household expenses, I had received no more than four hundred.

  When I mentioned this to Charles he was evasive. He never cared to discuss money with me. He even hinted that I could scarcely complain about the deficiency in my income when I considered what had happened to my dowry. I thought I should never be allowed to forget that spice and sugar which my mother had sent in place of the money.

  However, after a great deal of discussion, the expenses for the journey to Tunbridge Wells were raised and I was able to go.

  I was delighted when the King announced his intention of coming with me — but perhaps that was because Frances Stuart was a member of my household.

  Our journey to Tunbridge Wells was a pleasant one. We were cheered in the towns and villages through which we passed and I felt that the people of England were becoming reconciled to me — doubtless because they had heard of my condition.

  I was glad the King’s devotion to Lady Castlemaine was waning at last. It was true I had to accept her rival, but I did not feel the same animosity toward Frances Stuart. She was always extremely humble in my presence and was not a very formidable rival; for I firmly believed that when and if she did succumb to the King’s passion, he would soon tire of her. Her empty-headedness must surely bore him, for I doubted even beauty such as hers could hold a man of his culture and intelligence for long.

  She did not seem to grow up at all. She went on delighting in her games and I never failed to be astonished that her admirers could stand by applauding when her card house was the winner.

  Charles was very interested in the chalybeate springs which brought many people to Tunbridge Wells. The spring contained iron salts which were beneficial to the health. Charles had always been intrigued by such cures, and had his own gardens where he cultivated and experimented with herbs. He was very considerate about my health, and I began to feel happier than I had for some time. I was longing for the day when my child should be born. I hoped it would be a boy for the nation’s sake, but I knew that, for myself, whatever sex it was, it would delight me. It would be wonderful to have a daughter, but of course, I must pray for the son everyone wanted.

  Sometimes Charles and I talked about the child. He would love it, I knew. His affection for James Crofts — the Duke of Monmouth now — showed that.

  He had other children too. Lady Castlemaine had several which she swore were his, but in view of the life she led, that was open to doubt: she was the sort of woman who would claim royal parentage for every child she bore.

  I tried to stop myself thinking of her. I must be grateful for my good fortune. I was pregnant; Charles was kind and tender; the rapacious Castlemaine was in the shadows and I believed I had little to fear from silly Frances Stuart.

  So, if life was not perfect, at least it was good; and I must enjoy it.

  So I remember Tunbridge Wells with pleasure.

  We could not stay indefinitely, of course; and the court moved to Bath. James, Duke of York, with his Duchess traveled with us; and among the company was the Duke of Buckingham, a man of whom I was very wary. He was never far from the center of events. He was an admirer of Frances Stuart, and I was sure he was hoping to seduce her before the King succeeded in doing so.

  I wished him success, but Frances seemed to have a gift for holding these men at bay and at the same time keeping them spellbound. She did it effortlessly and was consistent in her refusal of them. It would have to be marriage or nothing for Frances. She did not actually say that, but it was implied — and, of course, neither the King nor Buckingham could offer that.

  Buckingham had in the beginning been an ardent Royalist, yet oddly enough had married the daughter of one of the Parliamentary leaders — General Fairfax. It was a most incongruous marriage.

  Buckingham was an adventurer by nature; he was reckless in the extreme and would throw himself into any wild scheme for the excitement of it. A man of poor judgement, I would say. On the other hand, he was extremely handsome, erudite and charming — the sort of man who could be outstanding in any company. And…he would be ruthless. That was why I felt I had to be watchful of him.

  Charles should have been too. He had some knowledge of Buckingham’s methods. The Duke had been one of those who, before the Restoration, had doubted that it would ever take place; and, weary of exile, he had secretly returned to England and had a meeting with one of Cromwell’s men as to the possibility of his estates being restored to him if he came back to England ready to accept Cromwell’s rule. He had previously quarrelled with Charles, when he had contrived to marry the Princess of Orange, a scheme which had been indignantly prevented by the royal family. So no doubt he thought he had little to lose.

  Cromwell was too shrewd to accept such a man’s word unquestioningly, and there again Buckingham showed his recklessness in returning to England without the Protector’s consent; so, to consolidate his position, he married General Fairfax’s daughter, Mary, who had fallen madly in love with him.

  It was only Fairfax’s influence which saved Buckingham when eventually his recklessness resulted in a spell in the Tower of London.

  When the Restoration came, he managed to win Charles’s forgiveness, for Charles found it difficult to bear grudges, and he was amused by Buckingham, who was the kind of man he liked to have about him. So Buckingham became a Gentleman of the King’s Bedchamber, and had the honor of carrying the orb at Charles’s coronation.

  It was odd to see such a man as Buckingham leaning over
Frances Stuart, cheering her on as she built up her card houses with breathless intensity.

  Lady Castlemaine, who, before her marriage to Roger Palmer, had been Barbara Villiers, was related to the Duke. The fact made me doubly wary of him.

  After we left Tunbridge Wells, we had a pleasant stay in Bath, Bristol and Oxford, and wherever we went there were demonstrations of the people’s affection for Charles and their acceptance of me; and I reminded myself that I had a good deal to be thankful for. My country was more secure than it had been for many years; the King’s liaison with the evil Castlemaine was coming to an end: and soon I should have my child.

  And so we returned to Whitehall.

  * * *

  I WAS DISAPPOINTED that Charles was not with me on the first night of our return to Whitehall. I supposed that he had some business to attend to after the time we had spent away. I saw him during the following day, but briefly, and again that night he was absent.

  The next morning I heard the ladies laughing together. Something had evidently happened which was highly amusing.

  It was later that afternoon when Lady Ormonde was with me and I said to her: “Something seems to be amusing people today.”

  “Oh that, Madam.” She smiled. “It was the flood at the Lady’s lodging.”

  “I did not know there was a flood.”

  “The Thames is high just now…and, of course, the Cockpit is low lying. The Lady’s kitchen was flooded last night.”

  “Is that such a matter for mirth?”

  “Her cook is Mrs. Sarah, Madam, and Mrs. Sarah’s husband is cook to Lord Sandwich, who is a neighbor to the Lady. They say that Mrs. Sarah does not care what she says to the Lady and there are some rowdy scenes almost every day between them. People say it is like going to the playhouse to hear the two of them shouting at each other. The Lady is always threatening to throw Mrs. Sarah out…but she never will. And Mrs. Sarah is always threatening to go and work for a real lady. They’ll never part, though. The fact is they can’t do without each other.”