Loyal in Love: Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I

by Jean Plaidy

  “But Lucy Carlisle has become Pym’s mistress.”

  “Oh…mon Dieu.” I felt sick with horror. “Lucy? Not Lucy. She is friendly with Pym. She finds out what she can from those devious Parliamentarians so that she can tell us, help us….”

  “It may be,” said Charles somberly, “that she talks to you and passes on to them what they want to know.”

  “You can’t mean that Lucy….”

  “I was told that a messenger went to Pym. He came from her.”

  “I will send for her immediately.”

  I did so, but Lucy was not in the palace.

  “What did you tell her?” asked the King.

  “Nothing…until the hour was up. Then I asked her to rejoice with me because you were master of your realm for you had gone to arrest those troublemakers and the deed was now done.”

  “Within an hour! It must have been a good half an hour later before I was able to get into the House. Time enough for her to warn Pym…which she did.”

  I covered my face with my hands.

  “Oh Charles,” I cried, “I have destroyed your plan! I, who would give my life for you, have destroyed you.”

  But he wouldn’t hear of it. He tried to comfort me. He told me it was unimportant. All that mattered was that I loved him. We would forget this disaster.

  “But it was my fault. You may forgive me but I shall never forgive myself.”

  He rocked me in his arms as though I were a baby and I marveled at this love for me and that he should care so deeply for one whose folly had dealt him such a blow.

  What could I do to convince him of my love for him, to show my gratitude for his forgiveness of my folly? What could I ever do to show him how much I loved him?

  I longed for an opportunity to die for his sake. But such opportunities do not come.

  We did not at first realize how disastrously we—or rather I—had mismanaged that affair. The King’s intention was now known and our little flush of popularity was over. It seemed that everyone was turning against us. No, that was not true. There were some faithful friends. Lord Digby, for one, suggested taking a company of his cavaliers and pursuing Pym and the rest, and when he had found them putting them under restraint. Perhaps that would have been the best thing to do. However, the King forbade it.

  At least we were now shown who were our true friends. I was bewildered and quite stunned by Lucy’s perfidy though when I looked back over the last years I can see that a wiser person than I might have guessed. Her friendship with Pym should have told me. How could I have been such a fool as to imagine that she was feigning that interest in him and his affairs for the sake of me! What hurt me more than Lucy’s unfaithfulness was the fact that I had been the one to foil Charles’s plans. Sometimes it seems to me that no one could have worked more indefatigably against him than I who loved him and would have died for him.

  But as I said we sorted out the good friends from the false. Men like the Earl of Holland and the Earl of Essex made excuses to retire from Court and in my newly found wisdom I knew what that meant.

  We became really alarmed when the mobs started to roam the streets. They carried placards on which was written the one word: Liberty. I did not know what they meant by that. Did they think they would have greater liberty under the stern Parliamentarians’ Puritan rule than they did under that of the King?

  My mother was gone; the Pope’s envoy was gone. What did they want of us now?

  Charles was afraid for me because it was against me that the might of their venom was turned. He thought it better for us to leave Whitehall and we prepared to go.

  It was a terrible journey. We sat there in the gilded coach which had so recently carried us through cheering crowds and as we went, faces looked in at us…frightening faces, hating, leering, threatening…I knew not what.

  How glad I was to leave Westminster behind and come to the green fields surrounding Hampton but the mansion itself, although always beautiful and a place I had especially loved, now held memories of a wild-eyed gypsy holding a mirror to our eyes.

  When we entered it seemed dark and unwelcoming. No one came out to attend to the carriage. Our guards helped us to alight and the air struck cold as we entered. There were no fires to greet us and no apartments had been made ready.

  All through the night the King and I, with our three children Charles, Mary and James, shivered in one room.

  “At least,” I said to Charles, “we are all together.”

  “We cannot stay here,” he replied. “Tomorrow we will leave for Windsor.”

  This we did and what a comfort it was to see the beautiful castle, which looked so strong and royal that there seemed a special significance in it at this time. I was so glad to escape from the cold unwelcoming ambience of Hampton, which I felt I could never really like again whatever happened.

  “We must be prepared,” said the King. “Pym and his friends know that I would have impeached them. They will do everything they can to raise the country against me. It is going to be a matter of deciding between the King and the Parliament. I put my faith in my loyal subjects.”

  “There are countless numbers of them,” said Denbigh. “We will call them together. They will all understand the menace of the Puritans.”

  I said: “We must raise money and I am the best one to do that. I am sure that I could persuade my brother to help us if I could only see him.”

  They looked at me expectantly and I was thinking: If only I could do something really wonderful! If only I could make up for this terrible thing I have done. I was sure that they all blamed me for the position in which we now found ourselves. The arrest of those ringleaders would have stemmed the tide against us. Charles was the only one who tried to pretend that it was not so very important.

  I was desperate to show him what I would do for him.

  It seemed to be a good idea. Help was desperately needed. The Pope’s conditions were too harsh. In exchange for helping Charles to keep his throne the Holy Father was demanding that he act in such a manner as could not end in anything but his losing it. The people of England would never accept a Catholic king. I knew that now. Our friends did not forget for one moment that I was the sister of the King of France and, although they did not expect altruism from Louis, they knew that he would not want to see a monarch deposed. There was a possibility, therefore, that he would give aid, and who better to plead for it than his sister?

  I rather pinned my hopes on the Prince of Orange. He was so delighted to have secured our Princess that he might be willing to give money or arms. I warmed to the project. I would go to Holland on the pretext that I was taking my daughter to her husband.

  “The Parliament did not agree to your leaving the country before,” Denbigh pointed out.

  “I will leave this time with their permission or without it and I will take valuables with me so that I can barter for what we need.”

  The King looked at me with pride. He said: “I shall have to go to Hull, so we should be separated in any case. At Hull there is the store of ammunition which is in readiness for attacking the Scots. If I can secure that I shall be ready to face my enemies if need be.”

  This then was to be our plan. The King would go to Hull so that if necessary he would have the means to fight. In the meantime with or without Parliament’s permission I would take my daughter to Holland.

  “We should first wait for permission,” said Charles, eager to keep everything peaceful for as long as he could, and to our amazement no objection was raised to my leaving the country with my daughter.

  I said we must go with all haste in case they changed their minds and tried to stop us and everyone agreed that this should be so.

  Charles conducted us to the coast. First we stayed in Canterbury, where the cold of the February winds was more bearable than the coldness in my heart. I was to leave Charles and as ever when he said goodbye to me I asked myself when we should meet again.

  I tried to smile. I told him that the project was
going to be successful and in time our troubles would pass away. There would be no black-clad grim-faced Puritans to spoil our happiness.

  “It is going to be so hard without you,” said Charles. “When you are with me nothing else seems of any great importance.”

  “I know,” I answered. “So it is with me. But all is going to come right in the end. Sometimes I feel that happiness like ours has to be fought for…paid for. My love, I am going to bring back such aid for your cause that we shall beat those rebels into the ground.”

  “My fierce little general,” he said, “don’t stay away too long.”

  “Not for a moment longer than I can help,” I assured him, “and our reunion will be the sweeter for our having been parted for this little while.”

  I wished we could have lingered in Canterbury beneath the shadow of the great cathedral but we had to pass on with all speed, for who knew when our enemies might change their minds and try to stop my departure?

  The next day we left for Dover. It was a brave sight to see the Dutch ships in the harbor—a squadron of fifteen commanded by Admiral van Tromp.

  I said to Charles: “How eager they are to have their little Princess. I am sure they will want to help her father and mother.”

  A surprise awaited us, for with the fleet had come Prince Rupert, who had visited us earlier with his brother, Charles Louis. We had been amused at the time of Mary’s wedding because Charles Louis had refused to come. He had been sulking because Mary was marrying the Prince of Orange instead of him. Rupert, however, had been there and this bright handsome young man seemed to be really fond of us.

  He greeted us with affection and said that he had heard there was trouble in England and that he would put himself at the disposal of his uncle to fight those miserable Puritans.

  Charles thanked him and said there was no question of war and he thought that all sensible people realized that that was the last thing that would do anyone good. He was thankful to say it had not come to that and he fervently hoped it never would.

  Rupert was clearly disappointed and as he did not wish to stay in England if there was no fighting to be done, he said he would go back to Holland with us and protect me and my daughter.

  Charles replied that he would indeed be grateful to his dear nephew if he would do that.

  “The Queen is my most precious jewel,” he said. “Care for her and you serve me in the way for which I am most grateful.”

  So it was agreed that Rupert should return with us.

  The last farewell! I shall never forget it. It is one of those memories which stay with me forever.

  To draw attention from his real purpose, which was to go to Hull where the stacks of ammunition were being held, Charles was dressed in hunting clothes. He had let it be known that after saying goodbye to me he was going north on a hunting expedition.

  He kissed first our daughter, then he turned to me and held me in his arms. He kissed me again and again. Then he released me only to catch me up in his arms once more.

  “How am I going to live without you?” he demanded.

  “In the same way as I must perforce live without you.”

  “Oh, my dearest, don’t go. Never leave me.”

  “I will come back with riches…with what we need to fight our enemies. Then, my dearest love, we shall be together and live happily for as long as our lives shall last.”

  More kisses. More embraces. We could not bring ourselves to release each other.

  But I must go and at last I reluctantly tore myself away. He stood watching me as I went aboard. I stood on deck, he on the shore, and we looked longingly at each other until the ship began to move slowly away.

  Then he galloped along the cliff, his hat in his hand waving…waving….

  I could not see him clearly for the tears in my eyes, but I went on waving until he was out of sight.

  SHE—MAJESTY—GENERALISSIMA

  I hated the sea. When I was sailing it always seemed to put on its most malevolent aspect, and we were only a little way off the English coast when the storms arose. These journeys always seemed endless, but at least the stormy weather took my mind off my parting with Charles. I was in a state of anxiety most of the time, not so much from fear of drowning as that the ships carrying my plate and valuables would be lost.

  My fears were not without foundation, for when Helvoetsluys was in sight one of the ships went down in the rough sea. I was grieved to see that it was the one which contained the equipment to fit up a chapel for me in the apartments which would be given to me during my stay.

  That seemed a bad omen.

  I had very few friends with me. Among them were Lord Arundel and Lord Goring—the father of George who had betrayed the Army Plot but who had returned to us so contrite that Charles had forgiven him, saying that he would be the more eager to serve us because of his lapse from fidelity and would want to make up for the trouble he had caused us. I had my confessor Father Philip and Father Cyprien Gamache; and among the few ladies Susan, the Countess of Denbigh and the Duchess of Richmond—and a few of my French attendants.

  How wonderful it was to be on dry land. I was immensely relieved when, with Mary beside me, I stepped ashore at Hounslerdike. The eager young bridegroom was waiting for us there and the welcoming cannon thundered out as he escorted us to the coaches which would take us to the Hague.

  There was no doubt of the respect in which the Prince of Orange held us. I had not been mistaken in his delight at the marriage; I did not want ceremony though. I wanted to make my transactions quickly, to build up an army and take it back to Charles.

  I was met by Charles’s sister, Elizabeth of Bohemia, who was very beautiful although she took little pains with her appearance and now seemed somewhat ravaged by the tragedies which had befallen her. There could not have been two people more unlike. She made me aware of how she despised that attention I gave to my appearance and the clothes I wore (something which was born in me and which I had never cultivated), my smallness, my femininity; perhaps she knew that my folly had not helped her brother’s cause. She had never forgotten that she was an English Princess and was angry because of what was happening in England. She could not have been more deeply concerned about that than I was, and the fact that she was inclined to blame me was something I found hard to bear at that time.

  Rupert was kind and respectful; he exuded the desire for adventure and was determined to obey the wishes of the King and look after me. Charles Louis was still sulking and did not appear.

  I thought that if only Charles had been with me and all was well at home, what a happy occasion this could have been.

  March had set in, cold and blustery, and during the journeyings and triumphal entry into the capital I was growing more and more impatient. But the Prince of Orange was determined to honor us. How I could have laughed with Charles at the gauche behavior of these Dutch. They lacked the manners of the English Court and I remembered that I had found those far less gracious than the ones I had grown accustomed to in my girlhood. The Burgomasters kept their hats on in my presence which at home would have been considered an insult, and at first I thought this might have been intended because some of those simply clad, unsmiling men bore a certain resemblance to our own Roundheads. But it proved to be just ignorance. I thought when the mistake was explained to me I would break into hysterical laughter for one of them kissed the hand of my dwarf, Geoffrey Hudson, thinking he was one of my sons.

  How indignant my sons would have been at that!

  I used to cry at night longing for Charles. The only consolation I could find was in writing to him; and as I did so my eyes would brim over with tears which dropped onto the paper making great blots.

  “The marks of love,” I told him they were. They would prove to him how I wept for him.

  It was a great day when I received a letter from him. It contained little news of the progress of affairs, but it assured me—his dear heart—that his days were dark without me and that he was entirely mine
.

  The weeks flew past. So much time was spent in ceremonies and I realized that I should have come quietly for there were few opportunities of conducting the business which I longed to complete.

  By the time we left the Hague for Rotterdam, May had come. I chafed against the delay. Charles was writing regularly and his letters constantly expressed his devotion, but they were no substitute for his presence. We had worked out a little code before I left and it gave me a delicious sense of intimacy as I opened his letters and read. I lived for those letters and the day when I would return to him.

  In the midst of this, one of the daughters of the Prince of Orange died and the ceremonies were brought to an abrupt end. We returned to the Hague and the Prince of Orange joined his army. He insisted that we inspect his troops, which was all for our honor, of course, but I could get no answer to the real question: How much help could I wring from them? Or perhaps, could I get any help at all?

  At length it was intimated to me that while the Prince of Orange was ready to mediate between the King and the Parliament it would be unwise to supply arms for Charles to fight his own subjects. The people of Holland were sternly Protestant and not unlike our own Roundheads. He could not go against the wishes of his people.

  Then I must try to barter with the jewelry and plate which I had brought with me. There followed for me a period which was something like a dream. I became a kind of saleswoman, a peddler displaying my wares and trying to bargain with people the like of whom I had never known before.

  It was a disheartening business. Most of the people who came to see me were Jewish and had a keen eye for business. They admired the jewels. Who could fail to do so? They were the priceless heirlooms of England.

  They were beautiful, one merchant told me and his eyes glistened as he touched them reverently. “But, my lady, these jewels are not yours to sell. They are the property of the crown.”

  I was angry. “My husband gave them to me so I cannot see how they are not mine,” I retorted.

  “If we bought them they could be demanded back as goods sold when the seller had no right to sell.”