King Charles beamed. When I held my arms over my head in a ballet pose, he gave the end of the lace a gentle tug. I twirled around the chamber, and the men applauded. I gave an exaggerated curtsy.
They continued conversing in a lighter vein, about the queen’s summer traveling plans or some such. I left the lace on the floor and walked to Sir Ment’s perch, extending a crust of bread to him. This was what King Louis expected of me. To keep King Charles’s favor and bend him toward Ambassador de Cominges. Make England listen to France. To dance and twirl.
CHAPTER 24
Whitsunday
A wet breeze wafted off the Thames and clung warm to my skin as Cornbury and I passed through a courtyard on our way to Queen Catherine’s chapel on this bright Whitsunday. A Lord’s day—a respite from the ambassador and all my concerns. But as we turned into the queen’s presence chamber, Castlemaine stood blocking our entry, face full of spite, belly well concealed by her bodice. “I see you’ve come like a good little Catholic to mass.”
Cornbury stiffened, held up his hand. “Now there.” His father and Castlemaine remained locked in a perpetual fight over the privy purse strings. Castlemaine vied for funds, and Clarendon would block her by policy, so Castlemaine slandered his name at every turn. Cornbury probably felt like shoving her through a window.
I dropped my arm from his. “Go, Lord Cornbury.” My relationship with Castlemaine was now marked by polite tension. Everyone knew I was the king’s new favorite. She invited me to her banquets, spoke to me at court, but said she resented me with every glare. “I come to pray.”
“You mean you come to gulp forgiveness down with bread and wine.”
“Sounds as if you’ve added bitterness to your long list of sins.”
“If absolution is so easy, perhaps I should convert to the Church of Rome myself.”
“There isn’t enough bread and wine in England to pardon you.”
“Deviousness is as great a sin as fornication.”
“Then you are doubly damned.”
“Little milksop.” She goaded, daring me, a nothing, to insult a countess. Then her gaze fell on my new double-pearl drop earrings, and she quickly registered their value and origin. “Did you hear?” she blurted. “I’m to get an apartment in Whitehall. Above the king’s own bedchamber.”
“Oh? Which of the king’s bedchambers?” The fall of her features indicated she didn’t realize he had more than one. I could insult a countess without appearing to.
Someone tugged my sleeve. I realized it was my sister. “Sophia.” I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her toward the wall, far from Castlemaine, who stomped away. Thank heavens.
Sophia, Mother, and Walter came to my apartments often, to sup and play with Miss and Sir Ment, but they didn’t usually attend court. It was safer for all of them. “Is something wrong?”
“The queens are arriving. I ran ahead.”
All residual irritation vanished. “Both queens?”
“The Queen Mother is bringing her train to Queen Catherine’s chapel.” She carefully kept her expression serene. “I wanted to warn you—our mother’s in a rage.”
We dipped to a low position when Queen Catherine entered and again when she received the Queen Mother.
My mother’s face was impassive as she took a place standing beside me. “I overhear astonishing conversations when your Mary visits Somerset House. How can I help you if you aren’t forthright with me? Why didn’t you tell me of the Queen Mother’s commands?”
I gestured for Sophia to leave us, and made sure no one could hear us. “Because such a reckless plot should be concealed, it would infuriate the Protestant people here. You saw those heads on London Bridge. I have no intention of following through with her demands.”
“Yet you entertain the king in private. Gossip about you will bring scrutiny to your family. You know what they’ll discover.”
“I know nothing,” I said, trying to hide exasperation from my face. Anyone could be watching our conversation. “Besides, the Villiers you fear are easy to thwart.”
“Don’t turn your back on the Duke of Buckingham and his sister. They will plot ways to make you more compliant if you do not surrender to the king. It’s wrong, what you’re doing.”
“Enough. If you expect forthrightness from me, then you must reciprocate. Is St. Albans your father?”
Had we been alone, she’d have slapped me. “If you value your place at court, never, ever say that again.” She turned her back and moved to the other side of the room.
I felt dizzy, overwhelmed. Frasier appeared at my side. “Everyone is queuing up for mass.” I gathered my skirts and drifted, in a blind haze, to the line of ladies forming behind the queens. Castlemaine lifted her nose in the air as I passed.
At mass the priest droned on. The only Latin I discerned were the words for sin, hell, and eternal damnation. I tipped my head up so the tears forming in my eyes would drain back, and I swallowed them. Frasier’s sharp elbow in my side made me blink. The priest was before me, bread and wine in hand, making the sign of the cross.
I could not receive the Sacrament without heaping burning coals on my own head. I had not asked forgiveness or prepared for absolution, couldn’t even remember my last confession. I shook my head slightly and closed my eyes, whispering a prayer as the priest moved to Frasier.
When mass ended, the queens stood. “Go before me,” said the Queen Mother to her train. “I shall stay behind and pray.” She gestured for me to follow her. The chapel emptied as we knelt before the vigil lights. “You should have taken the Sacrament, you have started everyone talking.”
“What are they saying?”
“That it is a sure sign you are the king’s mistress.”
“Is that not what you wanted?”
She reached up and grasped my jaw in her hand. “That Protestant bitch is moving into chambers above his. That is not what I wanted.” I thought she would crush my bones. The vigil lights twitched under her hiss. “You’ve the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen, yet what good are you if you can’t get rid of her?” She thrust my face away.
“H-he visits her only on friendly terms, to see their children. They are the reason he cannot part with her.”
“He refused to hear mass at Advent, Easter, and now Whitsunday. Do you know Parliament is ready to pass an act to exclude Catholics from government? Meanwhile Charles stays to the whore’s religion because you let it happen.”
The tears I’d fought to swallow earlier stung my eyes again. She was wrong about everything. King Charles himself had said the English people would never trust a Catholic king. But one cannot tell a queen she’s a fool. “Your Majesty, if I may. I have heard him speak very firmly with the lords who visit my chambers about toleration—”
She stood abruptly. The contempt in her glare was like a slap. “My patience is near its end. Do you wish to see your family humiliated before the court? Get rid of the whore before the year is through, or I will discharge your mother from my service.”
* * *
Two days later, when the king’s Life Guard escorted me into Castlemaine’s new chamber for a dinner banquet, she turned her head the other way. King Charles sat at the table with his brother, James, the Duke of York, and Henry Bennet. Each man rose as I entered.
Bennet, ever calculating, came to take my hand and walk me to my chair. “La Belle Stuart. You are more beautiful each time I see you.”
Castlemaine’s neck flushed, and she hid her face in a goblet of wine. I ached to urge King Charles to dismiss her from court, but I wasn’t at all sure I’d gained enough standing with him to command such a thing. Bedding him wouldn’t make him more comfortable with such a request, either, no matter what the Queen Mother assumed. King Charles signaled for the meal to begin. I have to find a way to make him want to do it without asking him.
Bennet turned to York. “As I was saying, if the Act of Uniformity passes in Parliament, I don’t see what would stop them from barring Catho
lics from government offices.”
York waved a dismissive hand. “I cannot imagine it coming to that.” He stabbed his food. “What really concerns me is the charter for the Company of Royal Adventurers. The sooner we begin shipments the sooner we can fill our pockets. Watch Parliament try to make us swallow their policy when we don’t rely on them for money.”
King Charles remained silent. I saw he didn’t want to think about politics. He turned to Bennet. “Did you see that new calèche the Chevalier de Gramont brought over from France?”
“Indeed, there’s nothing like it. All fitted with glass so one can see about while riding.”
York laughed. “See about and be seen.”
“Just like the vain French, wanting to preen,” said Bennet with a grin.
York turned to me. “Frances, you knew Gramont in France, did you not?”
“I’m afraid he did not like me overmuch.” He’d come from France in the aftermath of a scandal and knew better than to visit me.
York replied softly, “Some men pretend they do not like a thing only when they discover they cannot have it.”
Bennet glanced at him, then held up his wine. “A health to la Belle Stuart’s tempting beauty.”
Everyone raised their glass and drank the toast. Except Castlemaine. King Charles cleared his throat. “Yes. This calèche is so fine a thing that my queen has requested to borrow it to ride about Hyde Park. She wants to be the first woman in England seen in a carriage of this new style.”
Castlemaine looked up. She leaned one elbow on the table and pressed her weight against it until her breast bulged into her collarbone. “Surely you know the public will mock her vanity if you let her?” She laughed. “I would be glad to go out first in the calèche. For the people love to look upon me. And I do so love to be seen!”
Bennet lifted his wineglass again. “A health to Lady Castlemaine, who grows more beautiful with each passing year.”
We lifted our glasses, and as I sipped, I eyed the king. He lifted his eyebrows slightly as if he expected me to say something to relieve the tension. “Oh, how I would love to be seen riding in Hyde Park in the new calèche.”
Castlemaine muttered through clenched teeth. “Then you shall ask for it when I am through with it.”
I fought the urge to stab her with my three-pronged fork. “I think I should like to be first.” I turned to the king. “Your Majesty, may I please be first to ride in the calèche?”
King Charles leaned back in his chair. “Would that make you happy, Frances?”
Castlemaine threw her knife on the table. “Are you not listening? I said I shall be first to ride in it.” She stood, bumping her own belly on the edge of the table. Her chair clattered to the floor. “Damn it all! I swear, if you do not let me ride in that thing first, I shall miscarry this child all over this floor.” She grabbed her wine goblet and heaved it across the table. Wine showered us, and the goblet shattered into the looking glass on the wall.
Silence echoed. No one looked as shocked as they ought.
I put my fork down softly. “Well. If I do not get to ride in it first … I shall never miscarry.”
York got the joke first and chuckled, King Charles smiled into his goblet, and Bennet shoved food into his mouth.
Castlemaine marched into her bedchamber, slamming the door behind her.
York’s face fell. “Does that mean there will be no gambling tonight?”
“Praise God,” said Bennet. “I have to lose a fortune to her just to get invited back.”
* * *
King Charles spent the rest of that night with the queen. The next day, when I was sitting at my toilette table in my mantua gown, Castlemaine burst through my door with no announcement. She waved a parchment with a heavy seal in front of my face. “Charles finally gave me my patents for lady of the bedchamber today.”
“Congratulations.”
“With a tidy sum, a suggestion I stay the summer away at Hampton Court, and a kiss good-bye. How dare you use him against me, take him away from our children, after all I’ve done for you?” She slapped me so hard lights flashed in my eyes. I fell against my toilette table. A perfume bottle shattered on the floor.
Mary grabbed her by the armpits and hauled her back. Her arms and legs flailed around her awkward belly as she struggled, swiping her fingernails at my face. “Let go of me!”
She screamed so loud I thought the king’s Life Guards would come rushing from every corner of Whitehall. I sauntered to where her patents were resting crumpled on the floor. I plucked them up, watching her eyes widen with concern. I balled the parchments in a loose wad and continued toward the door. “Follow them, and get the hell out.” I hurled the papers into the antechamber. When she cleared the door, she looked over her shoulder and said, “You’ll never be rid of me.”
* * *
Cornbury appeared in my rooms hours later, breathless and wide-eyed. “You won’t believe what’s happened. Lady Castlemaine gave a great supper at her house on King Street. She said she would never again invite you to her chambers.”
“Is that all she said?”
He nodded. “But King Charles had just arrived from supper with the queen. When he heard Lady Castlemaine, he replied, for all to hear, that he himself would never again dine with Lady Castlemaine if Frances Stuart were not present. Lady Castlemaine flew into a rage and stormed to her apartments. She is packing, Frances! She’s leaving for her uncle’s at Richmond first thing in the morning.”
Relief washed over me. And Mary had heard every word.
CHAPTER 25
St. James’s Park
July 13
The king and queen followed kettledrums and Horse Guards on return from our ride in the high parts of St. James’s Park. Members of her household followed in form, with every maid of honor wearing matching white lace waistcoats and short crimson petticoats. George Hamilton drew his horse alongside mine, and I laughed. “You’re out of rank.”
He flushed. “I just have to know how you’re doing with your new mare.” When he’d learned I didn’t have a horse of my own, he had gone to considerable trouble to obtain one suitable for me.
“She’s perfect. How do we look?”
Hamilton had become a constant dancing partner, an escort to the theater, a regular visitor in my antechamber. He didn’t answer, just flushed again.
Suddenly, my perfect horse halted. She whinnied, pranced back. I looked about to see what had spooked her and saw a black snake slither underneath a nearby shrub. “There now,” I said, stroking her neck. But the horses crowding behind us frustrated her further, and she took off like a shot into a clearing, with my red skirts flying up around my face. I pulled the reins, called halt, but she only kicked, and I thought for sure she’d throw me.
Hamilton galloped up beside us, this time taking the reins and heading off my mare with his own until we both slowed to a stop. Catching my breath, I smoothed my petticoats down. He reached to help cover my knees and nearly slipped from his horse. He righted himself, grinning, and flushed yet again.
“Perhaps she should go back to the trainer, then?”
I repositioned myself on the saddle. “She’s young yet. I think she can at least get me home.”
Frasier waved us back into the procession, and we soon saw that the rest of the court and a crowd of commoners had gathered along the canal at St. James’s Park to watch our return. Many gallants rushed forward to help the ladies alight, and grooms rushed to take the horses.
“How unfortunate for us all that Lady Castlemaine decided to return to court. A fortnight of her absence was simply not enough.” Frasier threw a disgusted look toward the horse that carried the countess’s bulging belly, snugged into a tight bodice with low shoulders. Castlemaine had attempted to distract from her wider girth by wearing a tasteless yellow plume in her cavalier hat.
“No one will help her down,” said Wells. “See how disappointed she looks.”
Instead of looking, I signaled to an
orange-girl and fished out a halfpenny.
“She is lonely because everyone flocks to your side, Frances.” Frasier gloated. “Everyone knows you hold the king’s favor.”
What you mean is, everyone thinks I’m his favored mistress. I tucked my orange into my hanging pocket, saving it for Sir Ment. “I wish everyone would look at how attentive King Charles is to Queen Catherine and stop talking about me.”
We all looked ahead, to where the king and queen ambled with their arms twined together, talking and nodding at their subjects as they passed. They seemed a portrait of domestic bliss.
Hamilton dismounted and stepped forward to help me, but to my dismay, Buckingham headed him off. Hamilton turned to help the others instead and studied Buckingham suspiciously. Wells and Frasier walked ahead, glancing at us and whispering.
I should have worn a vizard mask. Buckingham braced my waist, pulled me down, and walked me back toward Whitehall Palace. He tipped his head in Castlemaine’s direction, where she walked all alone on the path. “Some say you coaxed Henry Bennet to take you to Richmond and talked her into coming back.”
“Some are saying the king himself went to Richmond to beg her back.”
“Did he?”
“He was with me every night after she left.”
“Has he bedded you yet?”
“He is weary of her. That is all I shall say.”
“It has been over a year. He wants you. He has made that clear.”
“Why do you wish to complicate matters?”
“I need his ear to effect my plans.” He tossed a pence to a drink seller, who promptly poured a syllabub and handed it to Buckingham, who handed it to me.
“You are aware that our king has a mind of his own? I grant the French ambassador time in my chambers, but he is unable to sway King Charles. What makes you think you can?”
“You do not know him as I do.”
“Do not expect me to forfeit my virtue for the sake of political power you think you can gain through me.” I handed the syllabub back. “You don’t know him at all. He has what he wants.”
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