Virginia Henley - Unmasked

by Virginia Henley

  "Young Henry collapsed in the stables this morn­ing. He was eager to try out a new Spanish leather sad­dle, and went down like a stone. He was hot as fire when I got him to his feet."

  "How awful! He was in good health at Newmar­ket."

  "Here comes Charles." He left Velvet's side and went to greet the king. "Good evening, Sire. I hope Henry is better."

  "No, I'm afraid he isn't. Dr. Fraser says he has a quartan fever. Must have picked the damn thing up from a foreign ship."

  Barbara and Buckingham joined the king, and Greysteel returned to Velvet and told her what he had said.

  "Charles will be very concerned. He's always been like a father to Henry. The queen hasn't spoken to the boy in years. She should be ashamed of herself," Vel­vet declared.

  The following day they learned that Prince Henry was covered with red papules and smallpox was feared. He was ordered to be isolated with only Dr. Fraser and the king in attendance. Charles had suf­fered a mild dose as a child and was immune.

  The Countess of Castlemaine was conspicuous by her absence, and indeed many of the courtiers made excuses to leave Whitehall. By nightfall, Prince Henry's papules had turned into pea-sized blisters and smallpox was confirmed.

  Charles was at his young brother's bedside all night, fighting to cool his fever, calm his delirium and clean up his vomit. His efforts, as well as his prayers, were all in vain. Henry, Duke of Gloucester, died be­fore midnight, September 13. The king was distraught. The Court was in deepest mourning.

  Velvet cried herself to sleep, comforted by Greysteel's arms. Never again would young Henry compliment her, dance with her or beat her in a card game. "The saddest part is that death has claimed him at such a tender age and only a few months after Charles was restored to the throne. It is so tragic."

  The entire Court and half of London attended the Duke of Gloucester's funeral. Since it was out of the question to celebrate a coronation when England was in mourning, the king and his council made the decision to postpone it until spring.

  "Barbara is absolutely delighted that the coronation will be celebrated at the end of April. She says her child is due to be delivered in February and she'll have her figure back by then. She can't wait to be on the front row," Velvet said with scorn.

  Greysteel broached the subject that had been fore­most in his mind for a few days. "I'm going to ask Charles for a leave from the King's Guard. My first lieutenant can competently take over as captain of the Blues. Now that the coronation has been postponed, it gives us the opportunity to take our horses to Bolsover and spend some time there. Mr. Burke is now free to take up his stewardship at the castle."

  Velvet stared at him as if he had lost his senses.

  "Is something amiss, sweetheart?" Greysteel was trying his best to be less controlling by telling Velvet before he approached Charles, rather than after the fact.

  "I cannot go to Bolsover."

  Greysteel searched her face, seeking an answer. Why not?"

  "I cannot desert Charles. He is in despair over Henry."

  Greysteel stiffened. "Charles has his family and Barbara to comfort him."

  "Barbara is utterly selfish and thinks of none but herself! You do not comprehend the devastation of los­ing one so young."

  Greysteel thought of all the brave young soldiers who had died under his command; some had breathed their last in his arms or while he was tending their wounds. He would never tell Velvet of such horrors. "He will carry the sorrow forever."

  "I am his devoted friend. I must try to ease his sor­row."

  He rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tension that was building inside him. "I don't have to leave immediately—I can wait a week, or even longer, if that will help, Velvet."

  "No, I cannot leave him. It is absolutely out of the question. Charles is withdrawing to Hampton Court Palace to grieve in private. I cannot go to Bolsover.... I'm going to Hampton Court."

  Greysteel bit down on a curse. He had asked Velvet to choose between him and the king, and as he had al­ways dreaded, she had chosen Charles. She's still in love with him.... She feels his pain as if it were her own.

  "Very well—the choice is yours." His voice was curt, his mouth hard and set. Greysteel knew he could insist that she accompany him, but where would that get him? Certainly not to first place in her affections.

  He withdrew immediately and went to the king's private chambers, seeking an audience. A Gentleman of the Bedchamber asked him to wait in the anteroom. In a short time he was ushered inside to Charles. The king, dressed all in black, his saturnine face haggard, looked pleased to see him.

  "Montgomery, you are just the man I need. I have a mission for you, if you would be so kind as to oblige me."

  "Anything, Sire. I and my guardsmen are at your command."

  "My sister Mary is on her way from The Hague. I sent her a dispatch about Henry and she insisted upon coming. If you would meet her at Dover and safe­guard her journey to London, it would relieve my anx­iety."

  "I'll make preparations immediately, Sire. Do you know how many will be in her party?"

  "Not precisely. Mary will be bringing her ladies-in-waiting, but I believe she will leave her son, William, with his attendants in The Hague." Charles threw Greysteel a sardonic look. "She has an agenda, of course. She wants the house of Orange reestablished as the leading political family in the Netherlands and seeks my support to have William made captain gen­eral of the Dutch Republic." Charles heaved a weary sigh. "Everyone wants something."

  Montgomery gave a rueful laugh. "I am no excep­tion, Sire."

  "There are no exceptions. What do you desire?"

  "When I return, I would like a leave from my cap­taincy to go north and attend to my properties."

  "I grant you leave, Montgomery." Charles searched his face. "I hope it won't be permanent, but that choice is yours."

  "Thank you, Sire."

  Greysteel returned to their apartment and found Velvet packing for Hampton Court. "His Majesty has asked me to go to Dover to escort his sister Mary to London."

  "I'm so glad she is coming. She must be devastated, but brother and sister will be a great comfort to each other."

  "This afternoon I intend to take Mr. Burke to Roehampton. Though the property is yours, it will benefit from the services of a steward. I shall bring Emma back."

  His words were formal and brief, as if he were speaking to a stranger, and Velvet was well aware that Greysteel was still angry at her refusal to leave Charles and go running off to Bolsover. His attitude was totally unreasonable to begin with, but now that he wasn't going to the castle, his anger should have been ren­dered moot. But she knew it was not; her husband had withdrawn from her and already she could feel the distance between them. "Thank you," she said with equal coolness.

  At Hampton Court, Velvet and Emma shared a suite of rooms. The formal gardens of the palace were calming and restful to the spirit, and the pair spent as much time as they could outdoors enjoying the late September sunshine. All too soon the cold winds of October would sweep in, stripping the leaves from the magnificent copper beech trees and withering the spectacular blooms of the autumn flowers.

  The Countess of Castlemaine came to visit Charles, but she did not remain for more than a couple of days. The king required no entertainment, no music and no gambling, only solitude and long walks with his dogs for quiet reflection. Each day he attended a morning and an evening service in the chapel.

  Barbara rolled her eyes at Velvet. "This place is enough to bring on a bout of melancholy, not dispel one. I have decided to return to London. If I leave, can Charles be far behind?"

  During the course of the following week, Velvet and Charles often met by accident in the gardens and walked together. One day Emma went to enjoy the Elizabethan knot garden and Velvet decided to explore the maze. She saw a pair of spaniels race past her and knew Charles was about somewhere. When she ar­rived at the center of the maze, she found him sitting on a bench. "Would you like to
be alone, Sire?"

  "A king is always alone, Velvet, no matter the com­pany." He smiled sadly. "I pray you come and sit with me."

  "I believe that is true of all of us, Sire, not just kings." She sat down and looked up at him. "It is the human condition."

  "I never thought of it that way. Perhaps you are right."

  "Each of us must face loss alone ... come to terms with it, and finally accept it/'

  "The loss of Henry seems particularly difficult."

  "That is because of the injustice involved. He was so young, cut down before his prime, and just when you were in a position to give him everything, his life was taken away."

  "And mine was spared."

  "You feel guilty, but that will pass," Velvet assured him. "When my mother died in France, it was the in­justice that was so heart scalding. She had sacrificed everything and lived in exile so many years. If only she could have lived until you were restored to the throne. She could have come home to her beloved country, returned to her homes that she cherished. When I came home without her, I felt guilty. But I fi­nally realized that I was not to blame, and I have let go of the guilt."

  "You are very wise for one so young."

  "Not really. I still resent my father. Instead of my mother, it was another wife my father brought back to England. It is Margaret who will enjoy my mother's cherished homes. I feel that he betrayed my mother, and he betrayed me. As a result I find it extremely dif­ficult to put my trust in a man."

  "I put my trust in Montgomery and he has never failed me."

  "I was not speaking of my husband."

  "Were you not, Velvet?" he asked quizzically.

  She quickly changed the subject. "If you talk to Henry, it will seem like he is still with you and it will ease your loss."

  "Perhaps the spirits of those we love are always with us. You are a dear friend, Velvet. I hope you will befriend Catherine of Braganza when she comes to be my queen. I am sure she will feel lost and lonely at first."

  "Of course I will be her friend." We both know Bar­bara will resent her and try to make her life miserable.

  "I feel much better. Life is so short—we should seize our happiness with both hands. Shall we go forth?"

  They stood up and began to make their way through the maze. They made a wrong turn and then another until they were lost.

  Charles raised his eyes heavenward. "Henry, lead us from the wilderness."

  A young hare leaped into their path from beneath the clipped yews. It saw them and sprinted away to the left. Laughing like children, they followed it and successfully made their way from the maze and back to the palace.

  A few days later, Charles and the close friends who had spent time with him at Hampton Court returned to Whitehall.

  Velvet went for another sitting with Mary Beale.

  "Your portrait is almost finished, Lady Mont­gomery. I hope you are pleased with it."

  "You have an amazing talent, Mary. You have made me look beautiful." Instead of making her happy, the painting made her feel sad. She had intended it as a surprise gift for Greysteel, but another rift had opened between them and she had no idea if it could be mended.

  "You are beautiful. That is why I painted you as Venus!"

  The goddess of love.. .how ironic. I wish with all my heart that my husband loved me. Instead he wants to possess me, own me, body and soul. He is madly jealous and resentful of my affection for Charles.

  "You need not come for another sitting, my lady. I can finish the background and the border without you. You may come and see the final result next week."

  "Thank you for all your work and patience." Velvet sighed. All the pleasure had gone out of having her portrait painted.

  * * *

  At Dover Castle, Montgomery addressed the dozen Royal Guardsmen he had brought to escort the king's sister back to London. They had arrived a fortnight ago and still there was no sign of the lady.

  "I just spoke with the captain of the Dutch mer­chantman that put into port this morning. He confirms that when he left The Hague, Mary's ship was vict­ualed and ready to make the voyage across the Chan­nel. Unfortunately, the only thing the vessel lacked was the lady herself and her maids of honor," he said dryly.

  "October gales could delay her departure further, Captain."

  "Aye, let us hope the lady realizes that November weather will be even worse." Montgomery tried to school himself to patience, though it was no easy task. He hated being in a position where he had no control. I wanted to get my mares to Bolsover before the end of Oc­tober, but royal ladies have a will of their own. He thought of Velvet. It seemed that all bloody ladies had a will of their own.

  "You may consider the next two days as leave from duty. When you report back on Wednesday, try not to be too hungover."

  Montgomery found that cooling his heels in Dover gave him too much time to think. Whenever thoughts of Hampton Court Palace tried to intrude, he ruth­lessly pushed them away. They always came back to taunt him, however. The intimate setting was roman­tic, a place where the whole world could be shut out, a palace with a haunting history of love, liaisons and in­trigue.

  Montgomery rode out to the chalk cliffs each day with a telescope from the castle. He gazed out to sea, sighting ships and identifying their flags. The lonely, windswept cliffs of Dover, however, were conducive to introspection, so instead, he began to visit the for­eign vessels that docked in the port, examining their cargoes and seeking out treasures from far-off exotic lands.

  Amazing what exotic treasures can be found in Pall Mall. Young Lord Cav glanced at the bill Charles Beale handed him, and then settled the account and added a bonus. "My cousin Velvet asked me to pick up her por­trait. She couldn't trust such a delicate errand to a foot­man, you understand," Cavendish said with a knowing leer.

  "Thank you, my lord. Your betrothed, Lady Mary, may have her first sitting tomorrow at eleven, if that is convenient."

  Cav picked up the painting that had been carefully crated and wrapped with brown paper. "Most con­venient, Mr. Beale."

  Will Cavendish returned to Whitehall and asked his driver to carry the crate up to his chambers. When he was alone, he removed the painting, set it against the wall and stepped back so that he could appreciate the subject it portrayed.

  His eyes narrowed as he looked at Velvet's naked image. She certainly is an exquisite piece of flesh. As he traced his fingertips up her long limbs and touched the red gold curls between her legs, his cock hardened and began to throb.

  Little bitch! I'd like nothing better than to give you a good fucking, but you'd go running to that dark brute you married, and I'd end up in the Thames with a saber slash across my throat. Cavendish smiled. I'll settle for some­thing else I've always desired. He put the painting back into its crate, and then he sat down at his desk to com­pose a letter.

  Velvet was lonely. Though the Presence Chamber was filled tonight with the ladies and gentlemen of the Court who were her friends, the shallow existence of the Whitehall courtiers had begun to pall. Surely there was more to life than shopping, attending the theatre and losing money at cards.

  She bit her lip and admitted that it was Greysteel's absence that was making her lonely and restless. When the devil would he be back from Dover, and once he returned, would he be willing to overlook their differences and try to make a success of their marriage? She stiffened as she saw Will Cavendish ap­proach.

  "What the devil do you want?" she snapped.

  Young Lord Cav bowed politely, handed her an envelope and went to join his future bride.

  Velvet tore open the envelope and read the note in­side:

  I have your Venus portrait in my possession. I will happily excliange it for the deed to Roehampton. If you do not cooperate, the naked lady will be placed in the hands of one so high it will cause a shocking scandal that will rock the Court.

  Velvet gasped and crumpled the letter in her fist. The walls of the Presence Chamber suddenly came to­gether, and the floo
r seemed to come up and hit her in the face. Her legs turned to water and Velvet collapsed in a faint.

  Chapter 24

  “Oh, my dear! Lady Montgomery ... do let me help you." The Countess of Suffolk lifted Velvet to her feet, sat her down in a chair and began to fan her as other ladies gathered round. Some were concerned, others merely curious, but all came to the same con­clusion: The Countess of Eglinton was with child!

  "Thank you," Velvet murmured, trying to catch her breath and compose herself before the semicircle of fe­males. Relief washed over her that she was still clutch­ing the note in her fist. No one must learn of its contents.

  "Here, Velvet, have some wine." Anna Marie Shrewsbury offered her a glass of golden Rhenish.

  "No, no, perhaps she shouldn't have wine if she's in a delicate condition," Lady Suffolk advised.

  "I'm not..." Velvet thought better of denying it or suspicion might fall on the letter she held. "I'm not thirsty. Perhaps I'd better go upstairs and lie down."

  "I shall escort you to your apartment," Lady Suffolk offered.

  Buckingham glanced archly at Barbara. "Egad, your condition must be catching. Perhaps I should keep my distance from you."

  Barbara tossed her hair. "I'm simply setting the fashion now that I'm a countess, George."

  Upstairs, Velvet sat down before the fire and with shaking fingers read the letter once again. "How the devil does that filthy swine know that I own the deed | Roehampton?" She began to piece things together and realized that she had told Christian Cavendish of Greysteel's gift to her when they had attended Henry's funeral. She cursed Lord Cav under her breath, and then she cursed herself for leaving her portrait at the Pall Mall studio after it was finished.

  The whoreson is blackmailing me!" She jumped up quickly, paced across the chamber and was swept with a wave of nausea. Velvet sat down quickly and covered her mouth with her hand. Well, one thing is cer­tain—the lecherous pig will never get his hands on Roehampton so long as there is breath in my body!