by Jean Plaidy
“I wonder what all those Roundheads are thinking now,” said Donna Elvira.
“There will be some to mourn and regret, I doubt not,” replied my mother, “but there will be many to rejoice—and none more than the King!” She was looking at me. “This is a very important day for us. As you know, the English have been good friends to this country. I have always wanted to strengthen the alliance between us. I am recalling Don Francisco. I have much to discuss with him.”
Donna Maria was slowly nodding her head again.
“We must all watch events in England,” went on my mother. “I believe this to be a time of great importance, not only to England but to Portugal.”
“Amen,” said Donna Maria.
“Great events could come out of the restoration of King Charles,” continued my mother. She was smiling at me. “We must be prepared. As yet…perhaps it is early. But…we shall talk of this later.”
I knew why she was recalling Don Francisco. Long ago, I had been suggested as a wife for Prince Charles—as he had been at that time. It was when I was not quite seven years old and he was fourteen. That had been the beginning of my dreams.
The matter had been set aside then. How could it have been otherwise with the country in turmoil? And then his father had been murdered, and he became an exile, wandering through Europe from court to court, wherever he could find some refuge. The years had passed and I was at this time twenty-two years of age. He was now thirty and it was time he married.
And through the years my mother had waited. She had some premonition and she had refused all offers for my hand. What she wanted was an alliance with England. She had waited all these years. It might have been too late for me to marry at all; it was getting near to that time now. But she had always believed that the King would recover his throne and, when he was safely there, she would set about pursuing her dream.
No wonder she was delighted; no wonder she forgot her royal dignity and came to the sewing room to chat with us.
This was a great day. It was the beginning.
So clearly I remember that day: the wonderment in Donna Elvira’s face, the pride in Donna Maria’s, because she believed her wonderful brother would play a big part in bringing this about. There was my mother’s exultation, and my own excitement because the dream which had never really left me could now be coming true.
Everything that happened really began on that important day, some twenty years before, on the second anniversary of my birth.
I had heard so much of that occasion from Donna Maria and Donna Elvira—and not only those two—that I am not sure whether I remember or imagine I do. It was such an important day, for if my father had taken a different decision then, it is almost certain that I should never have gone to England.
When I visited the Villa Viçosa, I believed I remembered it, for it was so easy to visualize the idyllic life we led there. I know my father was very happy there, for he had often told me so; and I shall never forget the sadness, the nostalgia in his eyes when he spoke of it. He was so contented there…in obscurity…in that quiet paradise, with his beloved wife, whom he greatly revered, his two little boys and his two-year-old daughter. The little boys, alas, were to die before they grew up, but there was no shadow over his life at that time.
He died when I was eighteen, so I had time to know him well. He was a gentle and kindly man who valued peace and the life he shared with his family. I understand what his feelings were on that significant day.
Guests had gathered to celebrate my birthday. My arrival into the world had been greeted with great joy. There was none of that disappointment so often felt in royal circles because a child proves to be a girl and not a boy. Why should there have been? They already had their two boys. How were they to know then that they were going to lose them?
Donna Maria liked to tell me about it, so I heard often of the joy at the Villa Viçosa when I was born.
“There was rejoicing throughout the palace…the whole country, in fact…for although your father lived the life of a country gentleman, it was not forgotten that he was the Duke of Braganza, and it was hoped that one day he would be in his rightful place on the throne of Portugal, and our country would no longer be the vassal of the hated Spaniards. Only the best was good enough for the Duke’s daughter, and, as you know, your godfather was the great nobleman Don Francisco de Mello, the Marquis of Ferreira.”
“Who,” I never forgot to say at this point, “is your brother.”
“That is so, my child. We are a highly respected family, and have always been the good friends of the House of Braganza, which is one of the reasons why your mother has entrusted you to my care.”
“I know, dear Donna Maria.”
And she would go on: “As you were born on St. Catherine’s Day, it seems right and proper that you should be named after the saint.”
My first two years had been spent at the Villa Viçosa in the province of Alemtejo, and very happy they must have been until that fateful day.
According to Donna Maria, from all over the country, people had come to celebrate my birthday.
“It was not only that,” added Donna Maria, anxious as ever that I should not grow up with an inflated idea of my importance. “The occasion was used to express the people’s loyalty to the Duke of Braganza, and to remind him that they were aware that, although he was living as a country gentleman, they did not forget that he was the rightful King of Portugal.”
Our country had been a vassal state of Spain for sixty years. The Portuguese had lived through troublous times since the death of Henry, the Cardinal King, who had died before he named his successor. Consequently there were several claimants to the throne. My great-grandmother, the Duchess of Braganza, was in the direct line and considered herself the rightful heiress, but she was a woman. Philip of Spain laid claim to the throne. He was perhaps the most powerful ruler in Europe, and he was successful, which was a sad day for Portugal; and the people never ceased to chafe against the invader.
So…now my father, grandson of Donna Maria, Duchess of Braganza, was in truth the King of Portugal.
That was the state of affairs on that November day when the celebrations of my second birthday were in progress. There was great joy and merriment until Don Gaspar Cortigno arrived, with his special mission which was to change our lives.
Knowing my father as I did, I understood his feelings on that day. He would be enjoying the merry company, delighting in his family, reveling in the serenity and peace of the Villa Viçosa with his loved ones around him. He was not an ambitious man.
Gaspar Cortigno had been selected for this mission. He must have been an eloquent man and a fervent patriot. I could imagine his words. “The time has come for you to do your duty to your people, Your Highness. The throne could be yours for the taking. The country is behind you. We want you to leave this place and come to Lisbon. We have the men. We have the means. The time has come for Portugal to be free.”
And my father’s dismayed response, what had that been? At first, I was sure, he would have vehemently refused. Others had tried and failed. He wanted to cling to his pleasant life. He had large estates; he was wealthy; he did not seek to rule; he only wanted to live in peace with his family; he had little stomach for battle; blood would be shed, lives would be lost.
But there was my mother. She was different from her husband.
She was the daughter of the Duke of Medina Sidonia; she was proud; she had decided views of right and wrong; and she was ambitious for her family. She believed that my father’s rightful place was on the throne.
Gaspar Cortigno’s words made a deep impression on her. The people of Portugal were asking my father to rise against the Spaniards and they were ready to stand beside him.
I can imagine my father’s dismay when she joined her pleas with those of Gaspar Cortigno.
“Your father said he could not do it,” said Donna Maria. “He said it would plunge the country into war. It was better to let life go on as it was
. But there was one thing which persuaded him to change his mind.” She looked at me proudly. “It was because of you.”
I was delighted to think that I was so important—at least had been on this occasion.
“There you were, in your birthday gown. You looked…er…very pleasant. Your mother took you by the hand, and she said to your father: ‘Could you deny this child her due? Could she grow up the daughter of a mere duke when she is indeed the daughter of a king? It is your duty, if for no other reason than for the sake of this child…and your boys.’ After that your father gave way. What could he do? If he would not act for himself, he must for his family.”
I knew that Donna Maria’s version was near the truth because I had heard the story from other sources, and I think I remember my father’s serious look as he took me into his arms, holding me tightly and saying: “This must be.”
And soon after that he left the Villa Viçosa and went to live in Lisbon, where my father was proclaimed King Juan IV of Portugal.
* * *
Read Jean Plaidy’s Queens of England series in historical order:
* * *
* * *
1
The Courts of Love
The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
2
The Queen’s Secret
The Story of Queen Katherine
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
VISIT CROWNHISTORICAL.COM FOR INFORMATION ON OUR NEWEST HISTORICAL FICTION.
* * *
3
The Reluctant Queen
The Story of Anne of York
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
4
The Lady in the Tower
The Story of Anne Boleyn
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
5
The Rose Without a Thorn
The Story of Katherine Howard
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
6
In the Shadow of the Crown
The Story of Mary Tudor
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
7
Queen of This Realm
Memoir of Elizabeth I
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
8
Loyal in Love
Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I
previously published as Myself My Enemy
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
9
The Merry Monarch’s Wife
The Story of Catherine of Braganza
previously published as The Pleasures of Love
AVAILABLE FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS IN SPRING ’08
* * *
* * *
10
The Queen’s Devotion
Princess Mary of York, Daughter of James II, Wife of William of Orange
previously published as William’s Wife
AVAILABLE FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS IN SUMMER ’08
* * *
* * *
11
Victoria Victorious
Memoir of Queen Victoria
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* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 1983 by Jean Plaidy
Reader’s Group Guide copyright © 2007 by Three Rivers Press, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York
Excerpt from The Merry Monarch’s Wife copyright © 1991 by Jean Plaidy
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Three Rivers Press, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
www.crownpublishing.com
Three Rivers Press and the Tugboat design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Crown Reads colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Originally published in hardcover in slightly different form as Myself My Enemy in Great Britain by Robert Hale Limited, London, and in the United States by G.P. Putnam’s Son’s, New York, in 1983.
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming Three Rivers Press reprint The Merry Monarch’s Wife by Jean Plaidy, which was originally published as The Pleasures of Love by Robert Hale Limited, London, in 1991. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Plaidy, Jean, 1906–1993.
Loyal in love : Henrietta Maria, Wife of Charles I / Jean Plaidy.—1st pbk. ed.
1. Henrietta Maria, Queen, consort of Charles I, King of England,
1609–1669—Fiction. 2. Queens—Great Britain—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6015.I3L69 2007
823'.914—dc22 2007010387
eISBN: 978-0-307-40561-6
v3.0