“Get up, girl.”
She sat on a stool, stiff and straight.
So she wouldn’t see my fear, I said, “I trust Mary brought you reports of my relationship with King Charles.” Her eyes widened, stunned by my boldness or my knowledge that she’d appointed Mary to spy. “I trust you are pleased. The king visits me regularly.”
Her expression turned sour. “To give you a loving pat, a kind word, a trinket. It is the king’s pleasure I assigned you to.” She stood and turned her back to me. “Why did you not advance on the king when that Castlemaine gave birth?”
“It seemed disrespectful to the newly arrived queen. I believe the king and I established a certain trust—”
“Trust is worthless. If you give yourself to him, then he will owe you something.”
“Pardon me, Your Majesty.” My voice sounded tight. “I have come to doubt King Charles is the sort of man to trade political favors for pleasurable ones.”
“Stupid girl. Do not profess to know my son better than I. Become his mistress. It is the only way to run affairs through him.” She looked at me and I saw fire in her eyes. “Now that Castlemaine has a firm grasp again, you must get close to her in order to get closer to the king.”
“I have duties to Queen Catherine—”
Her lips twisted. “Do I need to remind you of your duties to me?”
“Of course not.” I dipped in another humble curtsy. “I thought to better attain your goals through Queen Catherine’s help.” I rose and tentatively looked at her. “King Charles respects her refusal to submit to Lady Castlemaine’s presence. I think he finds it honorable.”
“My son is a rogue. He cares nothing for honor. Catherine is childish. She is not artful enough to control him. I’ve instructed her to cease troubling Charles over the issue and befriend Lady Castlemaine.”
I gasped. “But, Your Majesty, that is below a queen’s dignity.”
She closed her eyes and muttered, “You speak to me of a queen’s dignity? I, who endured my husband’s affair with that other Protestant Villiers? He granted his lover a title; first Duke of Buckingham. That ravenous snake. So you see, I’m weary of that family crowding the English royal bed.”
I suddenly saw Buckingham’s use of me in a new way; he was trying to follow in his father’s footsteps. “King Charles may yet see the strength in his queen’s spirit and abandon Lady Castlemaine. That is how it ought to be—”
“Queen Catherine is a prude in a court of rakes and whores!” Her words spilled out in a heat. “She’s made herself look ridiculous.”
“She is a good and honest woman!”
She sank her nails into my arm. I tried not to wince at the smell of old cheese on her breath. “There is no place for goodness in a court, you fool. Now get yourself to Lady Castlemaine’s house and get yourself noticed. Get yourself into his bed where you’ll finally be useful for something.”
The urge to shake off her grip thundered through me. “Your Majesty, I must tell you something. Something deeply important.”
“What?” she spat.
I blurted the first lie I could think of. “I fear Lord St. Albans will be furious if I make myself the king’s mistress.”
She handed my arm to her footman, who pushed me through the door. “You don’t know St. Albans, then. Go ask him yourself. You never thanked him for the money he gave you.”
“My mother will despise me if I cause a scandal.”
“I will dismiss her from my service if you don’t.” Her door slammed shut before my face.
I stared at the oak, only an inch from my nose. Bile rose in my throat. I placed both hands against the frame and leaned, breathing deeply. King Charles adored me. He respected his queen. I couldn’t let her befriend Castlemaine and degrade herself. I turned to run. And met the angry glare of my mother. She’d arrived to wait on the Queen Mother but stood in the deserted gallery, clutching a wide-eyed Sophia.
“What in the name of God did she just say?” Her voice came out in a hiss. “Did she say she would dismiss me? What did she say about Lord St. Albans?”
I shook my head, feeling faint. I couldn’t tell her the truth. “Sh-she is angry because I haven’t presented myself to Lord St. Albans.”
Her expression changed. She rearranged the lace around my shoulders. “If she commands it, you must do it. Straightaway.” She stepped aside.
Amazed, I turned and started walking toward St. Albans’s apartment. All I could think of was getting back to Queen Catherine before she made the biggest mistake in her royal life.
* * *
My feet sank into Turkish carpet as I stepped into St. Albans’s long narrow council chamber. He had returned with the Queen Mother’s train, and by the looks of his stately rooms, his importance hadn’t diminished. The dark paneled walls boasted elegant paintings and neat rows of book-lined cabinets. St. Albans stood by the window, squinting at a large parchment in his hands. The scent of sealing wax filled my nose, and I glanced at the writing table. Rolls of documents, maps, and measuring tools lay scattered over the Queen Mother’s household ledgers.
“What is it, Frances?”
I dipped a quick curtsy. “I thought I should present myself to you, my lord, to thank you for the silver you provided for my family.”
He stared at me for several long seconds before he made a sound. “That money was for you.” He paced to his writing table and tossed the document down. “Is it true King Charles commissioned Samuel Cooper to paint your portrait?”
I nodded
“That pleases me.”
I met his eyes. “It does?”
“Mmmm. You are much favored at court.” He walked around the table and faced me. “Let me know if you have need of anything.”
“Thank you, my lord.” A rush of questions filled my head.
He pointed to the array of papers on the table. “I’ve a building project in mind. St. James’s Square, I call it.”
I glanced at the table and back at him, confused by the change of subject. “Oh.”
The edges of his mouth moved up. He looked almost handsome. “Speak a good word of me to King Charles when you have opportunity.”
My mouth gaped open. He is seeking royal favor through me. “Of course, my lord.”
“Good.” His smile widened. He reached out and took firm hold of my upper arm, squeezed once, and let go. “Was there anything else?”
* * *
When I returned to Queen Catherine’s presence chamber, Cornbury pulled me aside before I could approach her. “Buckingham’s up to something. Be on guard.”
“La Belle Stuart, there you are.” Buckingham’s voice echoed off the muraled ceiling, causing Cornbury to wince. “I’ve been waiting an age for you.” He flourished an exaggerated bow.
I glanced toward Queen Catherine. “And you look it, Your Grace,” I said, sweetly.
He laughed as though it were the funniest joke in the whole realm and gestured to a handful of nobles standing by. “If I am showing my old age, I need only sip la Belle Stuart’s company, for she is a fount of youth.”
A cluster of people crowded around us. I slipped my fan from the gold cord at my waist, snapped it open, and wove it gently toward my neck. “Then you’d better drink up.”
“She’s more like a fount of beauty,” said some poor gent in need of favor. “If anyone can unseat Lady Castlemaine, it’s la Belle Stuart.”
Buckingham pulled an imaginary bottle from his doublet, leaned back for a swig, and stumbled around. Even Cornbury laughed at his pretend drunkenness.
I rolled my eyes to the heavens. “My dear lord,” I said to him. “It seems you ought to have sought out the fountain of good sense instead.”
The courtiers roared with laughter this time, and I started to sidestep them all, hoping to slip away to the queen. Then all heads turned to the door and Castlemaine sailed in on the arm of Henry Bennet. That traitor! They stopped in front of Queen Catherine, who nodded tightly. Castlemaine crossed the chamber
and perched herself on the stone ledge of a window.
She was practically sitting in the queen’s presence! “I cannot believe your cousin’s audacity, Lord Buckingham,” I said under my breath.
“Then you are as simple as you are beautiful,” he whispered back. Then he laughed, the bastard, and the merry court around us laughed, too.
Soon, several people broke away from us and sidled up to Castlemaine. Over the top of Buckingham’s curls, I could just see Queen Catherine, looking sad and alone. “His Majesty the King,” exclaimed the king’s herald, and everyone bowed or dipped.
Life Guards marched in, followed by King Charles. He walked straight to the queen, whose face lit with joy. She stood to greet him and curtsied when he bowed. They shared some soft words, and he clasped her hands. Queen Catherine was nodding and smiling when, abruptly, King Charles took a step back. With a bow, he bid her a kind word, then turned away.
To look straight at me.
“The angelic Stuart!” he announced as he reached for my hand.
I smiled. “You do me such honor.”
“None deserves it more.”
I sensed the quiet observation from Castlemaine’s circle. Ha! “None treasures it more.”
King Charles beamed. Buckingham and Cornbury laughed heartily, keeping up the merry tone, as if life itself were simply a jest.
I caught my breath when I saw Castlemaine moving across the chamber, folding her own throng into mine. But as she passed the throne, Queen Catherine stood. “Laydee Casslemaine.”
Everyone froze and Castlemaine started. She looked genuinely dumbfounded as she turned and gave the queen a shallow curtsy.
The queen pointed to Castlemaine’s skirts. “Dis is nice gowns.”
Castlemaine looked to her right and her left, as if she couldn’t believe the queen was addressing her. But triumph slowly festered on her face. “Your Majesty has excellent taste.”
Queen Catherine, who knew little English, laughed as if Castlemaine had told a joke. Poor wretch didn’t realize she was the joke. Courtiers snickered at the queen who flattered her king’s mistress, and King Charles frowned. He leaned toward Buckingham. “Just when I was beginning to admire her mettle.”
I fanned my face furiously. No. No. No. One misguided compliment had given Castlemaine all the power she would ever need at court.
The two groups converged to one large gathering, and Castlemaine planted herself before me. She inspected me all the way from the curls of my partial wigs to the hem of my petticoats, commanding attention without saying a word. I ached to turn my back to her.
Finally she spoke. “I wondered where you’d gotten off to, little Frances.” Her smile was slithery. “So good to see you again.” She leaned in close for an English kiss to each of my cheeks, turning my gut.
I smiled a huge, innocent smile. “I hear so much about you.”
She glanced at King Charles. Her eyes narrowed. “Let me ride with you to Somerset House when the Queen Mother holds her reception there next week. We can get to know each other. We shall even plan a dinner in your honor at my house on King Street.”
I held my breath. If I agreed, this would be Castlemaine’s first invitation to officially move with Queen Catherine’s court. It would make her almost official. I could not delay my answer, or let her see me think. I looked quickly to King Charles, who nodded, obviously anxious to appease Castlemaine’s wish to be included. I glanced at Queen Catherine, sitting utterly alone now and almost in tears. The Queen Mother’s words rang in my head. You’ll have to get close to Lady Castlemaine in order to get closer to the king.
I met Castlemaine’s expectant stare. “It would be my pleasure.”
CHAPTER 19
Lady Castlemaine’s King Street House
October
I brought the wine to my lips, sipping lightly, reminding myself, Befriend her, betray her. I smiled across the table at Castlemaine, and she nodded, then leaned into Harry Jermyn, a man who thought much of himself because he was the Earl of St. Albans’s nephew. He whispered in her ear.
I traced the patterns on the Venetian goblet in my hand and glanced at Castlemaine’s home: paintings by the old masters, ornate sculpture, ceiling murals, plush tapestries, exotic plants, and deep velvet. At the expansive table sat the most favored subjects in the realm, telling lewd jokes and getting a vulgar shade of drunk. King Charles sat at the head as if he were master of the house. Which, in a way, he was.
I raised my glass. “I only wish I’d sought you out sooner, Lady Castlemaine.”
Buckingham leaned into the table. “One can seek my cousin all the day, but they’ll not find her till she allows it.”
Everyone responded by calling out, raising their glasses, and tipping them back until they were empty. We plunked them onto the table, and servants jumped to fill them again. My glass was the only one that did not need their attention.
“Thank God she lets us find our way to dinner here,” Bennet called out, “else we’d never have cause to see the king!”
Everyone drank and laughed some more, even King Charles.
“Never fear, Bennet, if you need an audience with the king, you can always scramble into the royal carriage for a ride as Lady Castlemaine did on the way back from Somerset House.” Jermyn snickered, then checked himself and glanced at Castlemaine.
She shot him a hot look. “I never scramble. I was invited.” She turned to me. “Wasn’t I, darling? And that simple-minded queen actually seemed pleased to let me ride in her own carriage home!”
“The queen is very kind.”
Castlemaine swatted Jermyn, who grimaced and looked confused. “Do not speak ill of Queen Catherine in front of the angelic Stuart!” She narrowed her eyes. “She is a good and dutiful servant, aren’t you, dear?”
“If I am here”—I glanced around at the expectant faces—“I don’t know if anyone will ever call me good again.”
King Charles threw his head back laughing, and everyone followed suit.
Castlemaine dabbed her eyes when she finished. “Now that you’re here, little Frances, you really must stay. To new friends.” She raised her goblet in the air. “Now, Frances,” she scolded. “Tip back that wine and really drink, would you?”
“The Queen Mother says not to drink too much wine in the presence of men.”
“Does she?” Lady Castlemaine eyed King Charles, who raised his hands in mock defense.
“She should have taught her son not to drink too much wine in the presence of Lady Castlemaine!” Buckingham called.
“He has nothing to fear from me,” Castlemaine cried.
King Charles shouted, “Except an emptied purse!”
“Nonsense.” She slapped his chest while the group snickered. “I am the loving mother of your children, and I will protect this poor child here if she finds she’s drunk too much wine. So lead us in a health, Frances.”
I held my glass toward the slippery Castlemaine. “A health unto His Majesty!” And while everyone gulped, I sipped.
* * *
When I woke the next morning, a dull ache pounded in my head, though my body floated in a downy cloud. I covered my eyes against the morning light. Or was it afternoon light?
I squinted; I was in Castlemaine’s chamber! Sun gleamed off the bed frame, which was entirely gilded. I sat up, peered beyond the red velvet drapes, and saw King Charles hand his illegitimate infant son to Castlemaine. She cooed at him, and when he fisted her mantua gown and yanked, she laughed. The king took his daughter from the nurse and tickled her neck. Her giggles filled the room, filled her father’s face with joy. He beamed as the maids carried the children away, then leaned over Castlemaine where she sat at her toilette table. They must have heard my rustling then, for they glanced my way.
“Go see her.” Castlemaine turned to her looking glass.
He sat on the edge of the bed and addressed me. “I sent Prudence here this morning with some of your things.”
“How thoughtful.” I ru
bbed my eyes, wondering again what time it was. Wondering if I looked more or less of a sister to him now. “Perhaps I can be ready to attend the queen?”
“She is dressed already, though she expects you for tea. Are you well? Do you remember last night?”
“Who could forget Buckingham’s impression of the lord chancellor?”
“Did you sleep comfortably here? You are not troubled to stay away from your own chambers?”
“Lady Castlemaine is a … gracious hostess.” It returned in flashes. She’d insisted I stay the night, insisted on undressing me herself, and insisted I sleep in her own bed. With her in it.
“I am glad. She is a better woman than most people give her credit for.” He winked. “She is the most generous and gentle woman at Whitehall.” He rolled his eyes to the heavens as he spoke.
I bit my lips together to keep from laughing. He knows she is neither of these things!
I leaned back on the bolsters, smiling, and the king’s eye fell to the neck of my gauzy linen chemise. My breath caught, and I realized he’d never seen me with less than a mantua gown. He wore an expression I’d never seen on him. It could only be called lustful.
Castlemaine appeared at his side. “Would you like to see the rest of her?”
“I can see quite enough.” He cleared his throat and looked away.
“Not the best part.” Lady Castlemaine crept on the bed and started to pull the sheet.
I grabbed the corner, pulling it back up.
Castlemaine tsked. “Let me show him.” His eyes trailed the silk as she pulled it down. When the sheet’s edge snaked around one calf and slid off my foot, Castlemaine ran her finger up the back of my other calf. “See? Long and beautiful enough to rival my own.” She nodded. “You have the loveliest legs in all England. Does she not, Charles?”
I looked at them in amazement, at her informal use of his name, her loverlike introduction of my body, and his easy acceptance.
Girl on the Golden Coin: A Novel of Frances Stuart Page 12