Loyal in Love: Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I

by Jean Plaidy

  “I never heard such nonsense.”

  He just smiled at me and said no more.

  Our next concern was James. He was becoming very ill.

  “That woman is a witch,” I said to Henriette. “First she lured him into marriage and now because he disowns her she is willing him to die.”

  Henriette did not answer. I could not understand Henriette. The quiet girl who had been so thin—Louis had referred to her as the Bones of the Holy Innocents—now in clothes which were worthy of her had blossomed into a beauty. Her fragility had become fashionable and ladies of the Court were trying to suppress those protuberances which at one time they had been at great pains to display. Henriette was at the center of all the entertainments, with Buckingham in attendance. In fact there was some scandalous gossip about them. I had to make sure that nothing dangerous could come of that. Charles doted on her and was making as much of her as he did of his favorite mistress Barbara Castlemaine, and knowing his insatiable sexuality, some even dared hint at the most objectionable slander about his relationship with Henriette.

  It was a situation to be watched closely and I told myself that as soon as we reached France Henriette must be married to Philippe, who was now the Duc d’Orléans on the death of my brother Gaston. His death did not affect me greatly because, although we had been close as children in the nursery, his involvement in the Fronde had turned me against him.

  James’s health began to give us cause for alarm. He was not, fortunately, suffering from the small pox, but I really believed he was so upset because he was regretting his marriage to that woman and was now realizing in what an unsavory involvement he had become entangled.

  The doctors thought his malady had been brought about through emotional stress and Sir Charles Berkeley created quite a furor when he burst into James’s bedchamber, threw himself on his knees, and declared that the accusations he had made against Anne Hyde were false. She was a pure woman and had never had any lover other than James. Berkeley had prevailed upon other men to join with him in accusing her and they had done this because they thought the Duke of York would be happier if the marriage were dissolved and he could make another more suitable to his position.

  The news spread round the Court. Anne Hyde was vindicated. James quickly recovered, which proved it was the slander about Anne Hyde which had so upset him that he became ill.

  Charles was pleased about this and said that Anne must come back to Court and there must be a christening for her son.

  He then came to tell me what had happened.

  “So,” I said, “you are bringing her to Court. Is that what you are telling me?”

  “That is so,” he answered, “and I am very happy at this outcome. Anne is a woman of great wit and excellent parts. She will take advice from her father and be a good influence on James—who is in need of it.”

  “When you have finished singing her praises let me tell you that if this woman enters Whitehall by one door, I shall go out by another.”

  Charles was angry. “I have long known that you cannot exist in peace,” he said coldly. “If it is forced on you, you will immediately set out raising storms.”

  He left me then.

  I sighed. What difficult children I had! They either died or defied me.

  Charles was very cool and made no attempt to prevent the preparations I was making to return to France. Moreover he insisted on bringing Anne Hyde to Court, which meant of course that I must leave. Henriette was heartbroken. No one would have thought she was going back to a brilliant marriage. She said she would be loath to tear herself away from England and her brother and she went about with a woebegone face. But I considered I had been insulted. My son had given preference to a woman of no standing who had brought a child into the world which had come near to being a bastard—and in any case she was not of the rank to mate with royalty. And for this woman he was turning his own mother out of Court!

  Henriette explained with exasperating patience that he was not turning me out. I was going of my own free will.

  I said: “He leaves me no alternative. He forgets that though he is a king I am a queen…and his mother.”

  “He does not forget, Mam. He is grieved that you are going like this.”

  “A strange way of showing grief! All he has to do is not receive that woman and I will postpone my departure.”

  “He can’t do that. She is James’s wife.”

  “Wife! To how many men has she been what you call a wife?”

  “But they have all confessed to lying about her. I think they are despicable…every one of them.”

  I turned away. Even Henriette was against me.

  A few days before I was to leave a messenger came from France. News of what had happened had reached the Court there, for scandalous news always traveled faster than any other. The letter was from Mazarin and was very discreetly worded, but I read the meaning between the lines and there could be no mistaking their intent. He clearly implied that if I quarreled with my son I should not be very welcome in France. The fact was that Charles had given both me and Henriette handsome pensions and had promised a sizable dowry for Henriette, and Mazarin doubted Charles would pay this if there was a rift between us. And would Philippe want to marry Henriette without a dowry? It was the return of Charles to the throne which had made Henriette so desirable.

  I was in a dilemma. What could I do? Hold up my pride and return to France…a beggar almost, for it might well be that our money from England would not be paid. No dowry for Henriette! Charles might be pleased for his favorite sister to stay in England and I knew she would like that very much. No, I could not exist again as I had all those years depending on the charity of others, and in my heart I felt I might be in danger of doing so if I did not remain on good terms with my son; and I certainly should not be if I left England as I was proposing to do.

  The only alternative was to accept Anne Hyde. So I agreed to receive the woman.

  I shall never forget the scene of my humiliation. Charles must have decided not to spare me. It could have been done more quietly but Charles pointed out that it must be seen to be done.

  I was obliged to ask my son James, most formally, to bring his wife to my bedchamber that I might receive her. Naturally, because so many knew what had gone before, my bedchamber was crowded with busy-bodies who had come to witness the reconciliation.

  I was furious and all the time had to keep reminding myself of the old days of humiliation and that on no account must they recur. It was blackmail. Still I had worked hard for my husband; I could do the same for my daughter.

  When the woman came with James it was less difficult than I had anticipated, for she showed no triumph or aggression and was in fact most humble. I had sent Henriette away as I did not want her to see me act as I should have to. My excuse was that with the small pox epidemic raging I feared there might be danger for her among so many people.

  Anne Hyde knelt to me most deferentially when James presented her and I bent over and kissed her. She was a pleasant-looking young woman with, I had to admit, an open honest face. If she had been of nobler birth I could easily have accepted her.

  I did feel a twinge of gratitude to her for making my task slightly easier than it could have been. I led her into the anteroom and with her on one side and James on the other we made our way through the press of courtiers and sat down and talked a little.

  I asked about the baby whom they were going to call Charles, and James asked if I would be a godmother. I said I would.

  Then I had done all that was required of me, I thought. But it appeared not quite, for Charles wanted me to receive the Earl of Clarendon, which I did, although I had always disliked the man and more so since the trouble with his daughter had arisen.

  He was very respectful to me and I told him that I was happy to be a mother to his daughter. Then I hinted that in return for my capitulation he should do all he could for me. He knew what I meant, for he was a most astute man and as Chancellor had a gre
at influence in the country. What I was implying was that there should be no holding back of Henriette’s dowry and our pensions.

  I felt exhausted after the interview, but I was aware that Clarendon was very pleased at the outcome and I trusted him to do what he had promised for me.

  The day after the public reconciliation we prepared to leave for France and then I had my greatest fright, for I greatly feared that in spite of my efforts to protect Henriette she too might have caught the small pox which had carried off her brother and sister. No sooner had we left Portsmouth and were indeed still in sight of the harbor than Henriette became violently ill. I was terrified because this was not due to the sea. I consulted with the Captain and persuaded him to take the ship back into port. My daughter was in need of the best possible medical attention.

  He did this and I was faintly relieved to be back on shore. I sent a message to the King. He was most distressed and declared that nothing must be left undone to save Henriette.

  To our great joy we discovered that she was suffering from measles and not small pox as we had feared and after fourteen anxious days we were ready to sail for France once more.

  This time we made a good journey and landed safely at Le Havre.

  What a welcome was given us! Our journey to Paris was slow as I did not want to go through Rouen, where I heard that small pox was rife. I had preserved my darling so far and had no intention of letting her take more risks.

  It was a great joy to see Queen Anne again and to receive her warm welcome. Philippe seemed very much in love with Henriette and very jealous of the Duke of Buckingham, who had insisted on accompanying us because he could not tear himself away from Henriette. However we managed to subdue Philippe’s jealousy. Louis was very gracious to us and made it clear that he loved Henriette very much. There were rumors of his interest in various young women at Court, but I had been right in realizing that after spurning Henriette when they were children he had come to see that special beauty of hers which made her different from the other ladies at Court.

  Mazarin died suddenly to the great sorrow of the Queen and Louis. I guessed that would mean a period of Court mourning which would postpone the wedding. However, the dispensation from the Pope—which had been required because of the close relationship of Philippe and Henriette—arrived on the day the Cardinal died and Louis declared that perhaps preparations for the wedding should go on, although quietly.

  It was at the end of March when the wedding took place. The ceremony was performed in a private chapel of the Palais Royal and my own dear Henry Jermyn—I had prevailed on Charles to create him Earl of St. Albans—stood as proxy for Charles.

  My dear little Henriette, at seventeen years old, had become the Duchesse d’Orléans. I was very happy. Not the first prize…but the second…and I could always hope….

  My fortunes must be changing. Charles was on the throne of England and seemed firmly seated there; and my little girl, the best loved of them all, had come through her delicate childhood, her severe illnesses, and was the second lady in France.

  COLOMBES

  The years have now begun to slip by me quickly. I feel that I am no longer a participant but a looker-on, living on the fringe of affairs, which was strange at first as I had for so long been at the center of them.

  Henriette had no need of me now. She was the star of the Court. The King was in love with her and sometimes, I suspected, she with him. Philippe…well, we had always known that he would be an indifferent husband, being more attached to his handsome men friends than to any woman. Henriette shrugged that aside; she had become very worldly, quite unlike the quiet little girl who used to cause me so much anxiety.

  She seemed indefatigable. She designed and wrote ballets for the King’s entertainments; and she was always at the center of these for she danced exquisitely. The new life she was leading had beautified her considerably. People said that her complexion was like a mingling of jasmine and roses and that she had power in her sapphire blue eyes to command the devotion of all men. Certainly Louis was her admirer, deferring to her decisions until his little Queen was so jealous that she complained to her mother-in-law. Anne had always hated controversy and she spoke to me about Henriette’s friendship with the King. “Henriette must not always be at the King’s side,” insisted Anne. “That is the Queen’s place.”

  I listened and commiserated and all the time was secretly pleased that my daughter was now the most attractive and desirable woman at Court. I told Anne that I would tell Henriette what she had said, but was it not the King who set the pace and should she not speak to him?

  But I was very contented and there was nothing I liked to hear more than of Henriette’s conquests.

  At that time Louis dominated her life and I was sure she did his. I would grow furious contemplating what an ideal pair they would have made. They were always together and people were beginning to say: “Where the King is, there is Madame.”

  She was very happy at that time and her happiness was the greater because of the deprivations of her youth. Her beloved brother was safe on the throne, and the King of France was in love with her. She had the deep affection of the two most powerful men in Europe.

  She had a great influence over the King. Through her the Court became more intellectual. She had always been interested in writers and musicians and she made Louis so too. She brought Lulli the musician to the Court. She patronized Molière. Madeleine de Scudery’s works were being widely read. The Court was not only becoming more elegant but more cultured. And it was all due to Henriette.

  Those were the triumphant days of Henriette’s life and what would have been the outcome I cannot say if she had not become pregnant. I knew enough of her to believe that the child was Philippe’s and not Louis’s. Henriette was like me; she wanted the trimmings of courtship not the culmination. I had never liked that side of marriage, much as I had cared for Charles, and I could happily have dispensed with it altogether had it not been my duty to produce a family. Henriette was the same. When her child was born, it must be that of her husband.

  But pregnancy was not easy for her. She became ill. I took her with me to the Palais Royal. Louis came to see her and to avoid gossip we arranged that one of Henriette’s ladies-in-waiting should be seen with him so that it might seem he had come to visit her.

  This was an insignificant girl who was a little lame and quiet and unassuming. Her name was Louise de la Vallière; and now we know what the outcome of that was!

  In due course Henriette gave birth to a child—a daughter—and neither Philippe nor Henriette could disguise their disappointment that she was not a boy.

  Henriette was recovering from her confinement but she was a little sad. Rumors about the King and La Vallière were numerous. Then there was news from England. Charles had married Catherine de Braganza and I knew it was time for me to pay a visit to England.

  Henriette accompanied me as far as Beauvais. She was regaining her health rapidly and although she still seemed frail was as beautiful as ever. It was a great wrench for us to part and we both wept bitterly; I think she would have given a great deal to come with me and she sent many messages for me to give to Charles.

  I had in my party a young man of about thirteen or fourteen. He was known as James Crofts because when his mother, the notorious Lucy Walter died, he had been put in the charge of Lord Crofts, who passed him off as a kinsman, although everyone knew he was the King’s son.

  James himself was well aware of it and if I knew anything he was going to make sure that nobody forgot it. He was extremely handsome and had a decided look of the Stuarts. If Charles had wanted to deny paternity—and he certainly did not—he would have scarcely been able to.

  James Crofts was amusing, bright, and with a manner so audaciously regal and at the same time engaging that I could not help liking him.

  I was looking forward to meeting my new daughter-in-law. Henry Jermyn had been to England recently and had brought back excellent reports of her, and since
she was a Catholic that delighted me. I hoped she would have some influence on Charles.

  The crossing was atrocious as it usually was for me. I hated crossing the sea and was going to England as a duty; I much preferred my native land and would never forgive the English for turning us out and the barbarous treatment of Charles. My son might forget it; I never could. He seemed to have cast off all resentments and was perfectly happy; and although he had been forced to travel widely on the Continent, England appeared to be his natural home.

  It was a great relief to step onto dry land and we went by stages to Greenwich where the King and his wife were waiting to greet us.

  It was a wonderful moment to stand face to face with him and to feel his kiss on my hand and cheek. He always startled me when I saw him after a lapse of time. It was his imposing height, I think, and that dark ugly face which always baffled me because it was so charming.

  And there was his Queen! I embraced her warmly. Henry had not lied. She was delightful.

  I said to her: “I should not have come to England but for the pleasure of seeing you. I shall love you as my daughter and serve you as a queen.”

  The soft eyes filled with tears and she looked surprised and relieved and I wondered whether her life in England was all that a happy wife’s should be.

  She replied that in love and obedience none of my children—not even the King—should exceed her. Which I thought charming.

  Charles smiled at her indulgently and I could see that she was in love with him as I supposed most women would be. I hoped that he would make her happy; but I had heard many rumors about the life he led and I knew that he had always been promiscuous. When he was wandering in Europe perhaps he could be forgiven, but it must be different now that he had a Queen and was restored to the throne.

  He was absolutely delighted and amused by James Crofts and made much of him, which I thought he should not have done quite so openly before the Queen. I promised myself I would point this out to him when we were alone.