Loyal in Love: Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I

by Jean Plaidy

Along the river we sailed until we came to our destination, which was Somerset House. The grounds ran down to the river and here we alighted and I was conducted ceremoniously into the house. It was grander than those in which I had stayed so far in England but I still found it lacking in the elegance of our French palaces. However the journey by river from Gravesend had been refreshing and the cheers of the people—who seemed to have taken a liking to me—were still ringing in my ears so I felt a little happier.

  We spent the night here in a bed which I thought very odd because I had never seen the like. But I was supposed to regard it with some awe as it had once been Queen Elizabeth’s and she had slept in it many times.

  Queen Elizabeth was the arch heretic and I certainly did not feel the respect that they seemed to consider due to her. In fact I found the idea repulsive and I made no attempt to hide the fact. Charles ignored my hints and behaved as though I were perfectly contented.

  We stayed only a few days at Somerset House, which was too near the city for us to be safe from infection, but during that time the King went to Parliament to make his opening speech. I gathered it was not a great success though he did not tell me so. He never spoke to me on serious matters. I suppose I did not encourage confidences at that time. He must have thought me a frivolous and rather stupid little girl—which I suppose I was.

  It was Mamie who told me that he had asked for money from the Parliament which would mean taxing the people, and the people hated to be taxed.

  “There are many things they don’t like,” Mamie told me. “They don’t like Buckingham much.”

  “I don’t blame them,” I retorted. “Why don’t they like him? Do they know how badly he behaved with my brother’s wife?”

  “Oh, they wouldn’t care about that. It is not a matter of morals. People in high places can do exactly as they like in that respect. The old King doted on him…his Steenie as he called him because he said he bore a resemblance to St. Stephen. He was his favorite young man, and he had lots of young men around him. But Buckingham is too ambitious. He fancies himself as a statesman and a ruler more than he does a lap dog…which was what most of the handsome young men were content to be. Well, the old King has died and now they say that Buckingham is getting a hold on the new one.”

  “A hold on Charles!”

  “Well, he listens to him. He’s his greatest friend. They went to Spain together, didn’t they, when Charles was courting the Spanish Princess? And then he came to France when it was your turn.”

  “So the people don’t like Buckingham. Do you know, I don’t think he likes me.”

  “Nonsense. It’s not for him to like or dislike you. You represent the alliance with France and he worked for that, didn’t he?”

  “Oh, I am glad the people don’t like him. It shows they have some sense…even if they are heretics.”

  Mamie laughed at me and said I should have to grow up.

  The plague was getting worse, so it was decided we should leave Somerset House for Hampton Court.

  I was impressed by Hampton Court from the moment I saw it. This was more like a royal residence. Approaching it from the river was to see it in all its imposing glory. When I stepped ashore and crossed the splendid gardens to the entrance of the palace I felt I was indeed the Queen of a great country.

  I think there were about fifteen hundred rooms in the palace which had been built by Cardinal Wolsey at the height of his glory and taken from him by King Henry the Eighth who could not bear that a subject should live more grandly than he did. The rooms were vast—each of the fireplaces was big enough to roast an ox. The furnishings were drab but I was fast discovering that the English lacked the refined tastes of the French. They seemed either drab or garish in my eyes. But they could not detract from the splendor of Hampton Court.

  “This is where we shall stay for a while,” Charles told me. “Here we shall spend our honeymoon.”

  A honeymoon meant getting to know each other and as the days passed I realized that our relationship did not grow warmer as we began to know each other more intimately.

  Mamie urged me to try harder to like my husband.

  “I think,” she said, “that he is ready to love you. He finds you very attractive physically.”

  “I don’t find him so.”

  “But if you tried….”

  “Mamie, don’t be silly. How can you try to love someone? You either do or you don’t.”

  “You can be understanding. Try to see what it is that you don’t like and then try….”

  “He never laughs. He is so serious. He doesn’t approve of so much that I do. And, Mamie, he doesn’t like you.”

  “That matter of the coach was very unfortunate…happening as it did right at the beginning.”

  “It is over and forgotten.”

  “Some things are never forgotten.”

  “Well, he had better stop disliking you, for I shall not like him until he does.”

  “Dearest, you are very willful.”

  “I am as I am…and I will not change for anyone.”

  “You are very young. When you grow older you will learn that we all have to change sometimes…. We have to adjust ourselves to circumstances.”

  “I will not. I will be myself and any who don’t like that can do as they please. I don’t care.”

  Mamie shrugged her shoulders; she knew it was no use trying to make me see reason when I was in a certain mood.

  I was incensed when Buckingham came to me, and from that time I hated him more than ever.

  It was downright impertinent and when I realized that Charles had sent him, I hated them both and determined that I would do everything I could to annoy them.

  Buckingham tried to look severe. He more or less demanded an audience, which I should have refused, but I didn’t out of curiosity to know why he should come to see me.

  I expected him to pay compliments and treat me as though I was a pretty woman as well as a queen. I might have relented a little if he had. He was bold, he was blatant, and I remembered the manner in which he had tried to seduce the Queen of France right under my brother’s nose.

  He looked at me coolly, rather as though I were a recalcitrant child, and said: “The King is displeased.”

  “For what reason?” I asked.

  “Because of your conduct to him.”

  “And the King tells you this?”

  “I have volunteered to convey his displeasure to you.”

  “That,” I said with sarcasm, “is noble of you.”

  “The King says you show no affection toward him.”

  “And what concern is that of yours, my lord?”

  “It is my concern because the King tells me and has asked me to speak to you on this matter.”

  “So you are to plead with me to love him? Why? Are you such a clever supplicant? You were not particularly successful with my sister-in-law the Queen of France.”

  Buckingham’s handsome face flushed a dull plum color. I had touched him on a vulnerable spot and I rejoiced. He looked at me steadily while the flush on his face slowly faded, leaving it rather pale.

  “I have to tell you that if you do not show more affection to the King and conform more with his wishes, you will be a very unhappy woman.”

  “Pray do not concern yourself, my Lord Buckingham. I can manage my own affairs.”

  “It would be wise for you to show a little pleasure in the King’s company. You laugh and sing with your French companions and as soon as the King arrives with his English ones you become sullen and silent.”

  “Then it is for the King and his English attendants to amuse me as my own friends do.”

  “It is for you, Madam, to please the King. We are all his subjects…even you…and it would be wise for you to remember that.”

  “My Lord Buckingham, I no longer have need of your presence.”

  He bowed and for a moment our eyes met and I knew in that moment that he hated me as much as I hated him.

  Mamie was ver
y upset when I told her what had happened. She chided me a little for the way in which I had received him.

  “I will not pretend,” I said fiercely.

  She shook her head and answered: “Dearest, you will have to curb your temper. You must, you know; it could lead you into difficulties.”

  “Again you seem to be on his side.”

  “Never…never. But you are wrong, my love. You must learn to be diplomatic.”

  “I hate them all. Heretics! Savages!”

  Mamie looked very distraught. “This will not help at all,” she said.

  A few days later Buckingham came to see me again. I was on the point of refusing to see him but Mamie was with me when he was announced and she advised me against a direct refusal. “Try to be calm,” she said. “Listen to what he has to say and reply to it with tact and calm.”

  “I shall grant him nothing.”

  “Perhaps not, but do it as a queen would, not as a rebellious schoolgirl.”

  Buckingham came in looking elegant and handsome. It is a pity I cannot like him, I thought. He dresses with such taste that he looks almost like a Frenchman.

  “Your Majesty!” He bowed low and kissed my hand. I could feel the anger surging up in me and I guessed my eyes were beginning to blaze as they did at such moments. “May I say,” he went on, “that you are looking even more beautiful than ever. The air at Hampton suits you.”

  “You are good to say so,” I replied, so far quite calm.

  “I come from His Majesty.”

  “Oh? Is he so far away that he cannot come himself?” My temper was beginning to rise. I must remember Mamie’s warning and try to keep calm.

  “He has given this commission to me,” he replied suavely, “and I have a special request to make.”

  I thought: What insolence! You to make a special request to me…after our last meeting. But I said nothing and he went on: “His Majesty thinks that now you have become his wife and Queen of England you should have Englishwomen in your bedchamber.”

  “I am very satisfactorily served at the time,” I replied.

  “I am sure of that, but His Majesty is hoping that you will soon master the English language and adopt some of our English ways. Therefore he thinks that if certain ladies came into your bedchamber they would be of service to you…if you would graciously allow them to.”

  “Oh? And whom does he suggest?”

  “He has been most gracious to me and declares I have done him great service. As you know I was the main instrument in arranging this most desirable marriage. His Majesty cannot thank me enough for bringing him such a beautiful bride, and I hope that you too, Your Majesty, feel a little gratitude toward me.”

  I was seething with rage and I knew I could not contain it much longer. He did not give me time to speak but went on: “The King has honored me by agreeing that my wife, my sister and my niece should occupy these coveted posts.”

  I stared at him disbelievingly. He would put his women about me. For what purpose? Their aggrandizement certainly…but to spy on me!

  I burst out: “My lord Buckingham, I already have three ladies of the bedchamber. I do not need more.”

  “They are Frenchwomen,” he said, “and the King would like your ladies to be English.”

  “You may tell the King that I am perfectly satisfied with what I already have and I intend to remain so.”

  He bowed and left me.

  Seething with rage I sought out Mamie and told her what had happened. She was greatly distressed. She saw further than I did. She did not want to worry me but I did make her tell me that she feared she, among the others, might be sent back to France. It was the custom when a princess married into a foreign country that the attendants who accompanied her went back to their own country after a few days or weeks at the most.

  “This is different,” I cried passionately. “This was the arrangement. I am not to be surrounded by heretics. It was agreed that my own people should stay with me.”

  Mamie comforted me and assured me that I had nothing to fear and that I had done right in refusing to accept the Englishwomen into my bedchamber.

  I felt very relieved when the Bishop of Mende, who had come with me among my clergy, called on me with Father Sancy and told me that he had had to make my position very clear to the King.

  “It was decided,” said the Bishop, “that you should have English ladies to wait on you in your bedchamber. I have explained that this is quite out of the question.”

  I clasped my hands together in delight, which I tried to make appear as religious fervor.

  “We cannot have heretics living so close to you,” went on the Bishop.

  “They might attempt to corrupt you,” added Father Sancy.

  “I would never allow that,” I assured him.

  “Nevertheless we cannot afford to run risks,” said the Bishop. “I have made it clear to the King that my masters in France would take a very grave view of having these Huguenots in your bedchamber.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” I said, “I am grateful for your care.”

  “You must never forget your duty to the Church,” said my confessor.

  And I assured them both that I would not forget. I would keep about me my own French attendants who were good Catholics. I would fight with all my might against the heretics.

  “Let us kneel and pray that you will be successful in that which God has sent you to England to bring about,” said Father Sancy.

  The Bishop was less fanatical, but he was determined—even as Father Sancy was—that I should keep the Protestants out.

  I was very cool with the King in our bedchamber at Hampton on the night following the visit of the Bishop and Father Sancy. He knew why, of course, and he was very anxious to placate me. I think he enjoyed those intimacies of the bedchamber far more than I did, and I thought it was perverse of him to show a little rancor because I could not share the same pleasure as he did. The fact was that I should have preferred to go home and live as I had before my marriage. True, to be a queen was gratifying, but I sometimes felt it was not worth all that it entailed.

  The King stroked my hair and said it was beautiful. He loved my flashing dark eyes and my clear complexion, even my short stature. I was feminine, he said, all that a woman should be…save in one thing. I did not love my husband enough.

  I was silent and he sighed deeply. He said: “It is only because I wish you to learn to speak English…and to love this country that I want you to have English ladies about you.”

  “I would not love it the more for that,” I said. “I can accept life here because my friends are with me.”

  “But I would be your friend,” he said, “the very best friend you have. I am your husband.”

  “I would not lose those who have come with me from France for anything.”

  He sighed. He did realize that it was never any use trying to convince me. He believed now that I was the most illogical, unreasoning young woman imaginable, a creature of whims and fancies, lacking completely in control of my feelings.

  I know I was the main cause of all the unhappiness of those years. But I could not see it then.

  So we retired to bed for our nightly ritual, which I longed to have done with so that I could sleep.

  The discord between us continued and it seemed impossible to find an end to it. I knew there was a great deal of comment about the way I and my French friends behaved. We were allowed to celebrate Mass because that was part of the agreement between our two countries and my religious entourage made sure that this was carried out. But it was accepted with resentment. Mamie said the English could never forget that Mary Tudor had burned Protestants in Smithfield and at that time they had made up their minds that they would never be ruled by Catholics again. Then some of their sailors had become prisoners of the Inquisition and brought back tales of torture. The country had turned its back on Catholicism and forgotten, said Mamie, that the Protestants had not always been so kind to the Catholics among them. The E
nglish, she decided, were not an intensely religious nation. They were said to be tolerant, but their tolerance was in fact indifference. But although they might not object to Catholics on religious grounds, they were determined not to have another monarch like Mary Tudor, who was fiercely Catholic, having been brought up by her Catholic mother, Katherine of Aragon.

  “It is well,” said Mamie, “to understand the people with whom you have to live. Sum them up. Don’t be afraid of them but don’t underrate them.”

  I don’t know whether she was right but that was her assessment of them. However, I was allowed to celebrate Mass in the royal palaces with my attendants and we took advantage of this—perhaps a little blatantly. I was too careless then to see that we must inevitably be working toward a climax.

  Mamie tried to explain to me what was happening, but I am afraid I found the subject rather boring and only half listened. I knew that she said something about the King’s finding it difficult to fall in with the terms of our marriage treaty without offending his own people and I should really try to be more understanding toward him. He was naturally preoccupied having state matters to think of and my little tantrums must be trying to him. Moreover he could not get French help to fight Spain, and the hope of doing so was one of the reasons why the marriage had been so pleasing to him. It was all very wearying and I shrugged it aside. I did listen a little more intently when she told me that Catholic services were banned in England—except in my household.

  “He had better not try to stop me and my servants worshipping God,” I cried.

  “He would not. That would be going against the marriage treaty.”

  “Well, let us talk of something more interesting.”

  She sighed and shook her head over me. Then I rushed to her and kissed her and she was laughing at me.

  When the King dissolved Parliament he looked more stern than ever and said that he was going to the New Forest to hunt for a while. He thought I might not wish to go with him and he was right in that. Perhaps, he said, I would like to stay at Tichfield, which was the estate of the Earl of Southampton.

  I was delighted to be relieved of his company and was very merry surrounded by my French attendants, riding with Mamie beside me to Tichfield; but I was a little put out on reaching the house to find that the Countess of Denbigh was there. I was prepared to loathe anyone connected with the Duke of Buckingham and she was his sister. Moreover she was one of those women whom he had tried to force me to accept into my bedchamber.