Loyal in Love: Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I

by Jean Plaidy

  She had written that she had not been well for some time and thought a trip to Paris would be beneficial to her. I wrote back and said that she would probably like to stay at Chaillot which was ideal for an invalid who needed to rest.

  Mary very soon made it clear that she had not come to Paris to rest. She had brought with her a collection of clothes and jewels with which she hoped to impress the French Court. They must have cost a great deal, I commented; I did not add that it was money which might have gone to her brother’s cause, but I implied it. Of course I had to admit that Mary had done a great deal to help Charles and she had always made her Court a haven for him when he needed it. I was, naturally, a little angry with her still about being so insistent in getting her own way over the name of her son.

  I had to admit that she was very pretty; she had lovely brown hair with a tinge of red in it and eyes like topaz. Not only did she not wish to stay at Chaillot but expressed only the mildest interest in my beautiful retreat. Her gaiety and good looks made her very popular and the Queen immediately liked her and made sure she was invited to meet all the most interesting people at the Court.

  I was pleased that she was popular and then I noticed that in her retinue was Edward Hyde’s daughter and I thought it most inconsiderate of Mary to have brought the girl to Paris.

  “I never liked Edward Hyde,” I said. “I cannot understand why your brother thinks so highly of him.”

  “Because he is clever, Mam,” retorted Mary. “Charles needs men like Edward Hyde about him. All rulers should have such men to rely on.”

  “I never liked him,” I said firmly. “You know this and yet you bring his daughter in your train.”

  “I quite like the girl.”

  “But you know I would rather not see any of the Hyde family.”

  “I do not feel so and being mistress in my own household I choose those I like.”

  I was hurt. I could not understand why my children were so inconsiderate toward me.

  I was quite amused, however, when the Queen made it known that she thought it inappropriate for widows to dance, which meant that Mary had to sit beside the Queen and me to watch. She was not really very old and she did seem to forget that she was a widow. I wondered whether she would marry again and whether I should be looking round for a suitable husband for her. It would not surprise me if she told me that was no affair of mine.

  One of the balls given for Mary was that of the Duc d’Anjou. The Duc was there looking what I can only describe as “pretty.” He had such a flair for clothes and the colors he chose were quite exquisite. His jewelry was lovely too. The Queen confided in me that young Philippe was not in the least like his brother. Louis was all for manly sports but Philippe liked better to discuss clothes, to design them and choose materials; and he had said that he liked women’s clothes better than men’s and oddly enough sometimes dressed in them. He was a graceful dancer and when he partnered Henriette they looked beautiful dancing together. I think they were acknowledged to be the best dancers in the Court and this made quite a bond between them. But what pleased me most about the ball was that the King was there, and this time, without hesitation, he chose Henriette to open it with him. It showed my little girl was growing up and could no longer be regarded as a child.

  I prayed fervently that Charles would regain his throne and that Louis and Henriette would marry. Anne had hinted to me that she was very fond of Henriette and that she would welcome her as a daughter-in-law if it were possible for the pair of them to marry, of course.

  But Louis was the King of France and Henriette…? Well she was the daughter of a king who had lost his throne with his head, and the sister of a king who had not yet regained that throne and showed little sign of doing so.

  “Oh Lord,” I prayed. “Give Charles his throne…soon, and Henriette, Louis.”

  All the festivities at that time were in honor of Mary. The King commanded that a ballet should be performed for her pleasure; and of course Henriette danced in it. The Queen gave a banquet for Mary, and the Grande Mademoiselle, not to be outdone although still in exile from the Court, invited her to the Château of Chilly where she put on a very grand entertainment. Mary and Mademoiselle got on remarkably well. I couldn’t help feeling that Mary was a little too talkative and that Mademoiselle led her on, and I was sure she was going to repeat everything Mary said so I hoped my daughter would not be too indiscreet. When I saw the lavish manner in which Mademoiselle entertained I thought again what a suitable wife she would make for Charles, and I deeply regretted that all that money which was being wasted on lavish clothes, jewels, food, wines and spectacle could not be used to raise an army for Charles.

  I did get a chance to talk to her. I thought she was looking older and she had never been a beauty. No one would have thought of marrying her if it were not for her fortune; and after so many proposed marriages which had come to nothing she must be wondering whether she was going to get married at all.

  I said: “You must be wondering how Charles is faring.”

  “Oh? Must I?”

  She was insolent. Foolish woman! If she was not careful she would remain a spinster all her days.

  “He is in love with you, you know,” I said. “He does not think of any other woman.”

  “I was under the impression that he thought a good deal about a number of them.”

  “I am talking of marriage.”

  “Oh, dear little aunt, I cannot believe it is I who am the cause of his single state rather than the fact that he is scarcely in a position to keep himself let alone a wife.”

  “He has been so upset. When he was here he and I quarreled often. It is because he is unhappy that he is so quarrelsome. If he had a wife, I am sure we should be on far better terms.”

  “Dear Majesty,” she said lightly, “if he cannot live happily with you, why should he do so with someone else?”

  I could have slapped her simpering face. She was mocking me. She knew I only wanted her money for Charles. Indeed what else could I want from her?

  She always contrived to spoil any occasion for me. Even the sight of my little Henriette stepping a measure with a handsome nobleman with such grace could not restore my good humor.

  There was something else which disturbed me very deeply although I did not realize then how very significant it would prove to be. This was the growing attitude of my son James toward Anne Hyde. He was a few years older than she was and like his brother Charles had always had an eye for women. It was a trait in them which they did not get from their father or from me. But I often wonder whether it actually came through me as it would not surprise me in the least if Charles at any rate should become such another as my father had been as far as women were concerned.

  I had seen James follow Anne Hyde surreptitiously. Once I went after them and my suspicions were confirmed. My son was embracing the young woman and she was making a great show of reluctance which was an absolute indication of her willingness.

  At that time my irritation was simply because I disliked the Hydes. Then it occurred to me that although it was not disastrous for my sons to have passing love affairs with women like Lucy Walter, who could be cast aside when the matter had run itself out, it was not quite the same thing with the daughter of a man in Edward Hyde’s position.

  I decided to tackle James.

  I said: “It has come to my ears that you are indulging in an amour with Anne Hyde.”

  “You mean it has come to your eyes, Mam,” retorted James. “I was aware of you…spying on us.”

  I was amazed at the insolence of my children. First Henry, then Mary, now James. At least Charles was always respectful although he ignored my advice—and Charles was the King and might have been forgiven a little assertiveness.

  “I consider it my duty….”

  He dared to interrupt. “Oh, Mam, a little amusement is not a matter of state.”

  “I would rather you gave up this woman.”

  “I would rather not,” he rep
lied.

  “James!”

  “Yes, Mam.”

  “You are my son.”

  “Dear Mam, I know that well, but I am of age, you know. I am no longer a child and I cannot brook interference with my personal affairs.”

  There were dangerous lights in his eyes. He had a temper to match mine and was the easiest of my children to quarrel with. Out of sympathy with Mary as I was, I did not want trouble with James.

  With great restraint I sighed and said: “I beg of you to take care. This is the daughter of Edward Hyde of whom your brother seems to think so highly. She is not a woman like that Lucy Walter who was at the center of that disgraceful affair with your brother, which I am sure did him a great deal of harm and no doubt held him back from his throne.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” cried James. “Charles had a very pleasant time with Lucy. She’s a nice creature and you know how Charles dotes on young James…when he sees him.”

  “I cannot bear to hear such talk. I wish you were like your father…both of you.”

  James looked solemn then as mention of the late King could always make him. He was going to make some bitter retort, I think, but he did not do so. I felt more gentle toward him and said: “Take care, James.”

  He softened too. The moment when his temper was about to flare up had passed.

  “Don’t fret, Mam,” he said. “I can take care of my own affairs. You should not concern yourself with them.”

  It was tantamount to what Mary had told me. Keep out of my business. It is no affair of yours. Oddly enough both incidents revolved about Anne Hyde. It was foolish to allow such a silly simpering creature to make trouble for me. She was not very bright, I gathered, though I had to admit she had a certain feminine appeal.

  It would pass, I promised myself; and I did not want to quarrel any more with members of my family.

  Soon after that came news from Holland. Little William had developed measles and very reluctantly Mary tore herself away from the delights of Paris to go to him.

  The time was passing and nothing seemed to change much except that I was growing poorer. I found it so hard to exist on my pension for I felt I owed it to Charles to live as royally as possible. I did not want anyone to lose sight of the fact that I was the mother of the King of England.

  I was growing tired of ceremonies—not that so many came my way, but I disliked sitting with Queen Anne watching some ballet or dance. She was not the most exciting of companions, although God forbid that I should criticize one who had shown me such kindness. I often wondered how I could go on without her help, and sometimes I thought longingly of the life of some noble lady who was not close to Court and did not have to worry constantly whether she was receiving the respect due to her, who did not have to provide certain clothes that she might not appear shabby, who did not have to keep a retinue of servants whose wages she could not afford.

  Yes, it would indeed be pleasant to retire to the country, with Henry Jermyn, of course—that dear faithful man who was getting so fat now but still retained his healthy complexion and was quite handsome for his years. I should like to find little Geoffrey again. I often smiled to think how he had stepped out of the pie and come to me. What a happy and amusing introduction and what a sad parting it had been!

  Yes, I should like to retire to the country, but I had a daughter for whom I must find a husband. Henriette was my main concern—the only one of my children to be a Catholic and to live close to me. I watched her all the time, worrying about her fragile looks—the child was so thin and looked so pale often—and marveling at her grace when she danced, delighting when she received invitations to assemblies at which the King would be present. But when she went to these entertainments I was always anxious as to whether she would receive her due respect and whether it would be remembered that she was a princess, a king’s daughter, next in precedence to the Queen and myself.

  Nothing ever went smoothly and there were so many upsets. For one thing Louis was in love and because he was so inexperienced the whole Court knew it. Marie Mancini was one of the seven beautiful nieces whom Mazarin had brought to France from Italy and no sooner had they arrived than they had become prominent because of their outstanding good looks. Marie I thought the least beautiful; her sister Hortense was quite startlingly so. However it was Marie who caught Louis’s attention and he was quite obsessed by her. Anne told me that he had come to her and told her that he wished to marry Marie.

  “Marry her!” I cried indignantly. “He must be mad.”

  Anne was thoughtful and I was alarmed. “He says he cannot live without her,” she said.

  “He is but a child!”

  Anne was staring ahead of her and I was suddenly filled with horror. What of all those stories I had heard about Anne and Mazarin? Some said she had actually married him. Could she really be considering a marriage between the King of France and the niece of the Cardinal?

  She looked at me helplessly. “He will clearly have to marry soon.”

  “I have great hopes that Charles will recover his crown. I heard only yesterday that a wise man had prophesied that he would be back within the next few years.”

  “I should like him to marry an Infanta of Spain from my own country,” said Anne frankly. “But if that failed my next choice would be Henriette, whom you know I love as a daughter. He has a will of his own.” Her eyes shone with pride. She admired this quality in her son which I deplored in my children. “I have spoken to him.”

  “Of Henriette?”

  She nodded.

  “He loves her I believe,” I almost whispered.

  “Yes he loves her…as a sister. He says he is sorry for her because she is so frail and poor and unwell…. His heart is set on Marie Mancini.”

  “That is quite impossible.”

  She hesitated and then said: “I have spoken to the Cardinal.”

  I stared at her in horror. She had spoken to the Cardinal! She must be mad. Of course the Cardinal would do everything he could to bring about the marriage.

  Her next words surprised me. “The Cardinal says it is impossible.”

  “His own niece!”

  “Yes. He is such a wise man. He said it would go against royal tradition. The people would never agree to it and would probably rise against it. And they would blame him. He says unthinking people always blame their rulers for anything that goes wrong even when it is in no way connected with them. He said a marriage between Louis and Marie Mancini would be disastrous for the country…and for the Cardinal himself.”

  “He is a very wise man.”

  “The wisest,” said Anne fondly. “But Louis is angry. Oh, sister, I shall have to find a bride for him soon.”

  I thought: It must be Henriette. I have set my heart on Louis for Henriette. If I could see Henriette Queen of France I would go away, live quietly and leave the rest to fate.

  There came another irritation and once more it concerned the Grande Mademoiselle. Wherever she was there was trouble. She was no longer banned from Court on account of activities in the Fronde and was now to be seen at functions as flamboyant as ever, though perhaps a little faded. Cardinal Mazarin had invited us to a supper party at which the King and the Duc d’Anjou would be present. I was always so delighted to take Henriette where the King was, and it was a pleasant evening apart from one incident. As we were leaving Mademoiselle walked out ahead of my daughter, which was tantamount to saying that she came before Henriette in precedence.

  I had gone out just ahead of them and had expected Henriette to be immediately behind me and was very angry when I discovered what had happened and inwardly railed against Mademoiselle, wishing that she could be exiled forever.

  That was not the end of the matter for what had happened came to the Cardinal’s ears. He was a stickler for etiquette and was most annoyed, first because one of the laws of protocol had been ignored and secondly because Henriette and I had been at the supper party as his guests.

  A few days later there was a
party at his apartments to which the King, the Duc d’Anjou and Mademoiselle had been invited. Fortunately neither I nor Henriette were present but there were plenty of people to report to me what had been said.

  The Cardinal asked Mademoiselle if it was true that she had taken precedence over the Princess Henriette while the King and the Duc d’Anjou were listening.

  It was the Duc d’Anjou who answered. He said very loudly so that all could hear: “And what if my cousin did? Why should people who rely on us for their food and lodging take precedence over us? If they do not like the treatment they get here, they should go somewhere else.”

  I was terribly upset. So they regarded us as beggars! And this to come from the brother of the King—and Louis stood by and did nothing about it. It was more than I could endure.

  The horrible realization came to me that they were getting tired of us.

  I was so upset that I went to see the Cardinal and I told him that it was humiliating to accept a pension from the Queen. She was bountiful and had been a wonderful friend to me; I could never repay her for all she had done in my times of need; but I would like to be independent of her. I thought that as I was the Queen of England who had brought a dowry with her when I married the King, I should have some of that dowry back now. It was not the Queen of France who should be paying me a pension, but the English Parliament.

  Mazarin shook his head. “Your Majesty cannot really believe that the English Parliament would give you a pension!”

  “I don’t know. You have become friendly with this Oliver Cromwell. You say he is a man of integrity. Let us see something of that quality.”

  “Such a request could only end in failure.”