The Loves of Charles II (89 page)

They looked at each other—Queen and Chancellor.

Catherine’s appearance had not been improved by all she had suffered. She knew of the people’s animosity towards herself; she knew that they hated her because she was a Catholic, and concocted rhymes about her which they sang in the streets; and that these rhymes were witty and ribald after the manner of the day.

She guessed too that certain of the King’s ministers had spoken against her, because Charles had been particularly kind to her of late, which meant, she realized now that she had come to know him, that he felt sorry for her and was doubtless urging himself not to listen to his ministers’ advice.

There was a numb desolation in Catherine’s heart. She knew that they were advising him to rid himself of her. What would become of her? she wondered. Whither should she go? Home to Portugal where her brothers wrangled for the crown, a disgraced Queen, turned away by her husband because she could not bear him children and had failed to win his love and that of his subjects? No! She could not go back to Portugal. What was there for her, but a nunnery! She thought of the years stretching out ahead of her—she was a young woman still—of matins and complines, of bells and prayers; and all the time within her there would be longings which she must stifle, for whatever happened she would never forget Charles; she would love him until the day she died.

Last night he had stayed with her; he had resisted all temptation to go to one of his mistresses. She had been sick and overtaken with trembling, so fearful was she of what the future held for her.

How she despised herself! When she had the opportunity of being with him she was unable to make use of it. How could she hope to arouse anything but pity within him? His kindness she enjoyed was due, not to her attractiveness nor her cleverness, but merely to his goodness of heart. When she had been sick it was he who had brought the basin, and held her head and spoken soothing words; it was he who had called her women, to make her clean and comfortable, while uncomplaining he left the royal bed and moved to another room.

She could enjoy his kindness, but never his love.

Those were her thoughts when Clarendon was shown into her presence.

The Chancellor spoke in his usual blunt but somewhat pompous and authoritative manner.

“Your Majesty will have heard rumors concerning Mrs. Stuart?”

“Yes, my lord, that is true,” agreed Catherine.

“I am sure Your Majesty will agree with me that the Court would be a happier place if Mrs. Stuart were married, and mayhap left it for a while. Her cousin, the Duke of Richmond, would be an excellent match. It would
be well for those of us who wish Mrs. Stuart good to do all in our power to bring such a match about.”

“You are right, my lord.”

“Perhaps a word to the Duke from Your Majesty would be of use; and, as Mrs. Stuart’s mistress, Your Majesty might see that the young people have every opportunity to meet.”

Catherine clenched her hands tightly together and said: “I will do all in my power to bring this matter to a happy conclusion.”

Clarendon was pleased. He, the Queen and the Duke of Richmond were determined to bring about this marriage. There was one other who would be equally delighted to see it take place. That was Lady Castlemaine. And if Frances herself could be made to realize the advantages of the match, it must surely come about.

Barbara, whose spies were numerous, discovered that the Duke of Richmond was often in the company of Frances Stuart and that the conversations which took place between them were of a tender nature. Infuriated by the rumors she had heard of the King’s contemplating a divorce that he might marry Frances, Barbara had one object in mind—and that was to ruin Frances in the King’s eyes.

She did not believe that Frances was seriously contemplating marriage with her cousin, the Duke of Richmond. What woman, thought Barbara scornfully, would become a Duchess when the prospect of becoming a Queen was dangling before her?

She suspected Frances of being very sly and, in spite of her apparent ingenuousness, very clever. Barbara could be angry with herself when she came to believe that she, no less than others, had been duped by Frances’s apparent simplicity.

No! said Barbara. What the sly creature is doing is holding on to her virtue where the King is concerned, following the example of other ladies in history such as Elizabeth Woodville and Anne Boleyn. It may even be that she is not averse to entertaining a lover in private!

One day she discovered through her spies that the Duke of Richmond was in Frances’ apartment, and she lost no time in seeking out the King.

She waved away his attendants in a manner which annoyed him, but he did not reprove her for this until they had left.

Then she shouted at him: “Would you have them remain to hear what I have to say? Would you have them know—though doubtless they do already—what a fool Frances Stuart makes of you?”

The King’s calmness could always be shaken by the mention of Frances, and he demanded to know to what she referred.

“We are so virtuous, are we not?” mimicked Barbara. “We cannot be your mistress because we are so pure.” Her blue eyes flashed, and her anger blazed forth. “Oh, no, no, no! We cannot be your mistress because we think you may be fool enough to make us your Queen.”

“Be silent!” cried the King. “You shall leave the Court. I’ll never look on your face again.”

“No? Then go and look on hers now…. Go and catch her and her lover together, and then thank me for showing you what a fool that sly slut has made of you.”

“What is this?” demanded the King.

“Nothing…. Nothing at all. Merely that your pure little
virgin
is at this moment languishing in the arms of another Charles Stuart. It would seem that she hath a fancy for the name. Only one is a King and to be dangled on a string, and the other … is merely a Duke, so there is no sense in being
quite
so pure with him.”

“You lie,” growled the King.

“You are afraid of what you’ll discover. Go to her apartment now. Go … Go! And then thank me for opening your besotted eyes.”

The King turned and hurried from the room. He went immediately to Frances’s apartments; he pushed aside her attendants and went straight into that chamber where Frances was lying on a couch and the Duke of Richmond was sitting beside her holding her hand.

The King stood, legs apart, looking at them.

The Duke sprang to his feet. Frances did likewise.

“Sire …” began the Duke.

“Get out of here,” said the King ominously; and the Duke backed to the door and hurried away.

“So,” said the King, turning to Frances, “you entertain your lovers alone at times. Did you find his proposals to your liking?”

Frances said: “They were honorable proposals.”

“Honorable! And he here alone in your apartment?”

“Your Majesty must see that …”

“I know nothing of your behavior to this man,” said the King. “I can only draw conclusions, and I see this: that you, who have been so careful not to be alone with me, employ not the same care in his case.”

Frances had never seen Charles angry with her before, and she was alarmed; but she did not tremble before him; she knew he would not harm her.

She said: “Your Majesty, the Duke came hither to talk to me in an honorable fashion. He has no wife.”

“How far has this gone?”

“No farther than you saw. How could it? I would never submit to any man except my husband.”

“And you plan that he shall be that?”

“I plan nothing … yet.”

“Then he should not be here in your apartments.”

“Are the customs of the Court changing then?”

“We have always heard that you were set apart, that you did not accept the standards of the rest of us frail folk.”

He took her by the shoulders suddenly; his face was dark with passion.

“Frances,” he pleaded. “Have done with folly. Why do you so long hold out against me?”

She was frightened; she wrenched herself free and, running to the wall, clutched at the hangings as though childishly wishing to hide herself among them.

“I beg of Your Majesty to leave me,” she said.

She realized that his anger was still with him. He said: “One day mayhap you will be ugly and willing! I await that day with pleasure.”

Then he left her, and she knew that her relationship with the King had taken a new turn.

Frances, her fear still upon her, sought audience with the Queen.

She threw herself at Catherine’s feet and burst into tears.

“Your Majesty,” she cried, “I beg of you to help me. I am afraid. I have aroused the wrath of the King, and I have never seen him angry before. I fear that when his wrath is aroused it is more terrible than in those to whom anger comes more often.”

“You had better tell me what has happened,” said Catherine.

“He disturbed me with the Duke. He was furious with us both. The Duke has fled from Court. I know not what to do. He has never looked at me as he did then. He suspected … I know not what.”

“I think,” said Catherine sadly, “that he will not long be displeased with you.”

“It is not that I fear his displeasure, Your Majesty. He believes the Duke to be my lover; and I fear he will not have the same respect for me as hitherto.”

“That may be true,” agreed Catherine.

She felt then that she hated the beautiful face which was turned up to hers, hated it as much as she hated that other bold and arrogant one. These women with their beauty! It was cruel that they should have the power to take so easily that for which she longed, and longed in vain.

At that moment she would have given her rank and all she possessed to be in Frances Stuart’s place, loved and desired by the King.

He was angry with this girl, she was thinking; yet with me he never cared enough to be anything but kind.

She was aware of a rising passion within herself. She longed to rid the Court of all these women who claimed his attention. She believed he was tiring of Barbara, whose continual tantrums were at last wearing him down; but this young girl with her matchless beauty and her girlish ways was different. He loved this girl; he had even contemplated making her his wife. Catherine was sure of this.

She said suddenly: “If you married the Duke you would have a husband to protect you. You would show the King that he was mistaken in thinking you had taken a lover. Would you marry the Duke? He is the best match you could make.”

“Yes,” said Frances, “if it were possible. I would marry the Duke.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“But of course, Madam.”

“Then say nothing of this, but be ready to leave the Palace should the summons come.”

“Whither should I go?”

“To marriage with the Duke.”

“He has gone away. I do not know where he is.”

“Others will have means of knowing,” said the Queen. “Now go to your room and rest. Be ready to leave the Palace if need be.”

When Frances had gone, Catherine marveled at herself. I have come alive, she mused. I am fighting for what I desire more than anything on Earth. I have ceased to sit placidly waiting for what I want. Like others, I go out to get it.