The Merry Monarch's Wife (16 page)

I was a little puzzled, since it occurred to me that, if she had wanted to preserve the girl from licentious surroundings, would it have been so different to leave her in France?

“She is a witless creature…frivolous. The good God has compensated her with beauty for what she lacks in brains. Poor child. She would be easy prey. So…I brought her with me.”

Frances was indeed a simple creature. She loved childish games, such as Hunt the Slipper and Blindman's Bluff; and it astonished me that she could induce these sophisticated courtiers to indulge in these infantile activities just for the pleasure of being near her.

One of her favorite games was building up cards to what she called houses, balancing them one on another, to see how high she could make them. She would sit delicately placing the cards on each other, shrieking with delight when her card house was bigger than that of the one with whom she was competing.

I had seen Charles watching her with brooding eyes for he, who so admired beauty, could not be immune to her.

Lady Castlemaine, who was aware of this, was by no means pleased. She was not a woman to hide her feelings. I can imagine the temper that was displayed in her apartments and I pitied her servants.

She sought to discountenance the new beauty, but her efforts fell on stony ground. Frances did not understand the shafts; she greeted them with tinkling laughter.

Sometimes I wondered whether anyone could be so devoid of sense, and being more accustomed to the ways of the court than I had been when I arrived in it, I asked myself whether Frances Stuart's innocence was assumed.

However, in spite of many attempts to seduce her, she remained aloof.

Charles was seeking her out. She might have been flattered to be noticed by the King, but somehow she made it clear to all her admirers that she would become no man's mistress.

She smiled sweetly on those who could amuse her with childish acts. I remember seeing Anthony Hamilton, a connection of the Ormondes, win her approval by putting a lighted taper in his mouth and holding it there. She clapped her hands and told him he was wonderfully brave. Young Hamilton had gone on performing the act for the joy of her approval until someone—I think it was the Duke of Buckingham—told him not to be such an idiot unless he wanted to kill himself.

Buckingham himself was another of Frances's admirers. He was such a subtle seducer that many thought he would be the one to succeed. But he did not; and Frances remained the simpering, unseducible virgin.

I knew that Charles was deeply interested in her and I marvelled that beauty could mean so much to him that her witless chatter did not deter him any more than it did her other admirers.

When they had first seen her—so pretty and so silly—they had thought she would be an easy conquest. That was why I wondered whether
La Belle Stuarte,
as she was called, was really as stupid as she made out to be.

The King was neglecting Lady Castlemaine. There was no doubt of that. He was spending more and more time with Frances. How could he appear to be so absorbed in those ridiculous card houses!

The Lady herself assumed an air of indifference and gave her attention to James Crofts.

Were they lovers? I could not believe it. He was such a boy. Was she really attracted by him? There had been so many to share her bed that I supposed one more made little difference—and perhaps she would find his youth rather piquant.

I guessed that the King was not pleased by this growing friendship between his mistress and his son.

James Crofts and Charles were often together and Charles clearly showed his affection, as though he wanted everyone to know in what esteem he held the boy. He wanted him to have the respect of everyone and to be treated almost as royalty.

Once when James Crofts was dancing with me, hat in hand, according to the custom of showing respect to royalty, Charles called out that he might put on his hat. James did so with a smile of pleasure. It was tantamount to a public declaration of his royal birth.

James Crofts was in some ways similar to the King. He lacked Charles's wit and wisdom, of course, but then he was very young. though I fancied Charles had been born with his. James Crofts was very handsome, although he had none of Charles's charm, but in looks he resembled the Stuarts and that was enough, for it meant that no one could doubt he was the King's son.

Charles said to me one day, and there was an alert look in his eyes as he spoke and I, who was beginning to know him well, guessed that there was something more than the words implied: “It is time I did something about James Crofts.”

I asked what he had in mind.

“He is my son,” he said. “There is no doubt of that, and he should have some standing at court.”

“He has already.”

“That is so. As my son, he is received by all. But I thought of a more tangible sign.”

“You are going to endow him with titles and estates.”

“Exactly so. And I think it is time he married.”

“Is he not somewhat young?”

“He is old enough. He is a Stuart. It will keep him out of mischief.”

He was no doubt thinking of James Crofts's involvement with Lady Castlemaine, I guessed.

“Does marriage do so?” I could not help saying.

“I think it might absorb him…for a while…until he gets older…wiser…more able to conduct his life. So he shall be made a duke.”

“A duke!”

“The titles of the Duke of Orkney are now available.”

I felt a sudden shiver of alarm. Did Charles think of giving his bastard son such honors because there was a possibility of his coming to the throne? I had been Charles's wife for some months…nine or so…and there was no sign that I was to have a child. Perhaps it was early yet. But was that in his mind?

Charles was saying: “He will be Baron Tyndale, Earl of Doncaster and Duke of Monmouth.”

“That will set him very high, will it not?”

Charles was smiling. “Indeed yes. He will take precedent over all the dukes who are not of royal blood…so my brother James cannot object. He will still come before Jemmy.”

“It will be a great honor for the young man.”

“He is a good boy. I have high hopes of him. And when he is the Duke of Monmouth, he shall be married.”

“You have selected the bride?”

“Yes. It is Anne Scott, the Duchess of Buccleuch. She came into the title on the death of her father…together with a goodly fortune.”

“I see.”

“You look doubtful. Do you not think it is a good arrangement?”

“Yes…from James's point of view. I wonder what the bride is thinking.”

“She will be thinking how lucky she is to get such a handsome young fellow for a bridegroom.”

         

ON A BLEAK FEBRUARY DAY
James Crofts became the Duke of Monmouth and less than eight weeks later he was married in the King's Chamber to the Duchess of Buccleuch and took the name of James Scott.

Lady Castlemaine was displeased. She would have to be more careful how she behaved with the Duke of Monmouth than she had been with simple James Crofts. As for myself, I felt a return of melancholy.

Charles was accepting his bastard son. He was giving him great honor; they were often in each other's company. Monmouth could not have been treated with more deference if he had been the King's legitimate son.

True, Charles liked the boy, but his actions I felt showed something more than that.

I was failing. So far I had not produced an heir. The King was saying, see what a handsome boy I can get. It is only the Queen who fails me.

My spirits were lifted by the news from Portugal.

There had been a great victory at Amexial, which was largely due to the efforts of the English whom Charles had sent to fight beside my countrymen.

My mother's letter was ecstatic. She blessed my marriage. She had always known how important it would be, she wrote:

My dearest daughter,

You cannot know how happy my people are. We shall always be grateful to our wonderful ally and for you who have done so much to make this possible.

I was proud and happy. I forgot the slights and humiliations then. Charles was my husband. No one could change that…not even Lady Castlemaine or
La Belle Stuarte.
I was his wife and it was his soldiers who had saved my country.

I told Charles how delighted I was and would have gone down on my knees to thank him, but he would have none of that.

“It was a small matter,” he said. “It is not the first time we have shown these Spaniards that they are not as mighty as they believe themselves to be. And since our little effort has given you so much pleasure, I am happy.”

“Oh Charles,” I cried. “How can I thank you?”

“By being with me…by loving me…by giving me so much to be thankful for.”

Words of a lover! If only I could have believed them!

“There was one little incident which will amuse you,” he said. “It did not amuse our men. But never fear. All is well now.”

“What happened?” I asked in alarm.

“Nothing to fear. All is well. But your brother…he is an odd fellow.”

“Well, my mother usually tells him what to do.”

“I'll vow she did not tell him what to do on this occasion. Odds fish! It might have caused a riot.”

“Please tell me quickly, what has Alfonso done?”

“He thanked my men for their help and told them that, for their pains, they were to receive a pinch of snuff.”

“A pinch of snuff!”

Charles lifted his eyebrows. “These men after all, are not in the business of war because they care for causes. What they look for is some of the spoils, and I do not think these would include a pinch of snuff.”

I covered my face with my hands. How could Alfonso have been so stupid! But then he was unfit to govern. I knew that, and none knew it more than my mother. That was why she, to all intents, was the ruler. But Alfonso at that time must have escaped her vigilance. What had they thought of him?

Charles took my hands from my face and kissed them.

“No need for alarm. I have ordered that forty thousand crowns shall be distributed among them to compensate them for their efforts.”

“Oh Charles…how could he!”

“Let us not think of him. We have beaten the Spaniards. Your country is free of them for now. We should make merry.”

I thought then what a lot I owed him. Whatever sadness my life here brought to me, I must accept it. I must remember what my marriage had done for my country. I had to accept Charles's amours. I had to grow up. I had to adopt a new set of morals…cast aside my upbringing. I had to act as many a queen before me had had to do.

         

THERE WAS MORE GOOD NEWS.

I believe my letter to the Pope had had its effect. He had understood the implication that I was going to do all I could to bring Charles to the faith. Perhaps he knew that James was already a secret Catholic. Henrietta Maria knew it and she was scarcely the most discreet of women.

I had heard from Charles that her inability to keep a secret could have been in a measure responsible for his father's downfall. It would have been the last thing she intended; she would have died for her husband, instead she had talked to one of her ladies on that occasion when the five Members of Parliament, headed by John Pym, were to be arrested and taken to the Tower. But, having been warned, the men escaped in time to carry on the war against the King. It seemed to me very likely that somehow, unwittingly, Henrietta Maria would have let out the news of James's conversion. On this occasion, it could have worked for good, because it might be surmised that if one brother had turned, why not the other? And as Charles's wife, I was in a position to influence him, so might the Pope think.

In any event, the Pope had heeded my letter, for to our great joy, he accepted Portugal as a sovereign state and my brother Alfonso as its king.

To add to my happiness, I believed that I was at last pregnant.

I was very excited. Everything would be worthwhile now. A child of my own! Our son and heir! Charles was with me more often now. We walked together in the Park. People cheered us. Although they were amused by the King's amours, at heart they preferred to see me with him rather than Lady Castlemaine. He was seeing less of her—but I did not think that was because of his preference for my society, so much as his preoccupation with Frances Stuart.

Frances went on in her guileless way, screaming with delight when her opponents' houses of cards toppled to the ground, making them all join in a game of Blindman's Bluff. It was so ridiculous. I could not imagine why they did it—except that she was exquisitely beautiful. I had heard it said that she was the only woman at court who had ever outshone Lady Castlemaine in beauty. And she was so different. Everything the Lady was, Frances was the opposite. Simplicity against sophistication; innocence against experience; purity against blatant sexuality; and one might say stupidity against the utmost guile.

My doctors thought the water of Tunbridge Wells would be good for me, but when I was making arrangements for a journey there, I was informed by my almoner that there were insufficient funds for the journey.

On making inquiries, I learned that, although according to the contract which had been drawn up at the time of my marriage, I had been promised forty thousand pounds for my household expenses, I had received no more than four hundred.

When I mentioned this to Charles he was evasive. He never cared to discuss money with me. He even hinted that I could scarcely complain about the deficiency in my income when I considered what had happened to my dowry. I thought I should never be allowed to forget that spice and sugar which my mother had sent in place of the money.

However, after a great deal of discussion, the expenses for the journey to Tunbridge Wells were raised and I was able to go.

I was delighted when the King announced his intention of coming with me—but perhaps that was because Frances Stuart was a member of my household.