But to be a duchess through marriage would please her.
“You would like to marry the Duke, would you, Frances?”
“Yes,” she said.
“If you joined him, you could be married…then you would be safe.”
“The King…”
“The King could do nothing if you were already married.”
She was thoughtful.
“There could be an elopement,” I suggested.
Her eyes shone with excitement.
“If you knew where the Duke was, you could go to him,” I went on. You could get married without delay. Then you could have a husband to protect you. I am sure the King would soon ask you and your husband to come back to court. Suppose you joined the Duke today? If only you knew where he is…”
“I do know. He is taking rooms at The Bear near London Bridge. He has had rooms there before. He is going to stay there until he sees what happens.”
“The Bear! That is not far. Why do you not join him there? Why do you not elope? Go back to your apartments. You are not well enough to see anyone and I have told you to go to your bed and stay there until tomorrow. As soon as it’s dark, you must leave the palace. Try not to be seen and take a carriage to The Bear near London Bridge. Tell the Duke that you are ready to marry him.”
“Oh, Your Majesty!”
“Do as I say. Tell no one. Very soon you will be the Duchess of Richmond and Lennox. I am sure you will be a charming duchess.”
“Your Majesty is so kind.”
I kissed her and wished her Godspeed, and I meant it from the bottom of my heart.
What good fortune this was! In becoming the Duchess of Richmond and Lennox, Frances could sweep away all my fears of being set aside.
This could not be anything but a fortunate turn of affairs for me.
* * *
THE WHOLE COURT WAS TALKING about Frances’s elopement. The King was furious and shrouded in melancholy. He was unlike himself. He must have cared deeply for Frances.
At length we heard that she and the Duke were married. I hoped she would be happy. She was such a simpleton, and I should greatly have preferred her to Lady Castlemaine if there had not been this threat of divorce. What I then heard of the Duke led me to believe that Frances might suffer some disillusion. He had already had two wives and he was constantly looking for favors at court; moreover he drank heavily.
I had a few qualms orf conscience when I heard this, even though I had not discovered it all until after the marriage. Perhaps I had been thinking too much of my own advantage. But at least she had married, which was what she had wanted; and it was she who had chosen Richmond.
As the weeks passed, the elopement of Frances Stuart ceased to be the main topic of conversation throughout the court. Lady Castlemaine retained her position and was obviously delighted to be rid of her formidable rival.
The war was going badly and the King was deeply immersed in the need to rebuild the city. More money was needed. There was never enough.
That June the country suffered one of the most humiliating defeats it had ever known. People were outraged and amazed to see the Dutch fleet right on our shores. It sailed up the Medway as far as Chatham, took possession of Sheerness and burned several of our ships — the Royal Oak, the Great James and the newly launched Loyal London among them. They blew up stores of ammunition worth forty thousand pounds; and they did all this more or less unopposed, having taken the English completely by surprise. During the operation they lost only two of their own ships. Not that these had been taken in battle; they had merely run aground and were set fire to by the Dutch to prevent their falling into English hands.
There was great fear that they would reach London; and ships were sunk at Blackwall and Woolwich to prevent their doing this.
Having wreaked havoc not only on our ships but on our morale, the Dutch sailed triumphantly away.
The English were outraged and, as is customary, they looked for a scapegoat.
They chose Clarendon. He had become increasingly unpopular over the last years. I was deeply sorry for him. I knew he was not guilty of what he was accused. It was no fault of his that we were at war with the Dutch, nor that we had suffered plague and fire and lacked the necessary funds to carry on the war successfully.
Charles was turning away from him even though the Earl had been such a good friend to him during his exile.
Clarendon was a man who lived a very moral life. He believed a husband should be faithful to his wife; he deeply deplored the King’s promiscuity and, because of that familiarity rooted in the past, he did not hesitate to say so. Although normally Charles was tolerant, he was under great strain at this time and less inclined to patience. So…Clarendon was out of favor…not only with the people.
He had powerful enemies at court. Buckingham was one, Lady Castlemaine another; and the King was weary of his continual lectures.
So he was certainly in a lonely position.
While the foreign ships were in the Medway, the mob had gathered outside Clarendon’s house. They had uprooted trees, broken windows and set up a gibbet which was an indication of the hatred they had for him.
Charles was deeply anxious. How I wished he would talk more to me of his troubles!
He did on one occasion and I asked him what was happening about Clarendon.
“He will have to go, I fear,” he said. “There is nothing I can do to save him. His time has come.”
“They are blaming him for the war!”
“That is unfair, of course. He was a good friend to me in the past…but now…”
“You do not like him as you used to.”
“He has frustrated me in so many ways.”
I knew what he meant. He blamed Clarendon for Frances Stuart’s departure. I never ceased to marvel that physical attraction could be so strong. It could not have been anything beyond that considering Frances’s childlike mind. And Charles suspected Clarendon of arranging the elopement. I wondered what he would say if he knew what part I had played in that. I think he might have understood my motives and not judged me too harshly. However, I would not tell him…not until we were old and near the end of our lives. Perhaps not even then.
“I do not like these sanctimonious ones,” said Charles. “They set themselves up as pillars of virtue and think it is their duty in life to censure those who fall short of their standards. Such men are tiresome.”
Previously Charles had been good-humored about criticism. He must certainly be feeling Frances’s desertion deeply.
“I have been advised,” he went on, “that if I do not rid myself of Clarendon, I might go the way of my father.”
“No!”
He looked at me wryly. “The heads of kings are never fixed very securely on their shoulders.”
“Please do not talk so.”
“Never fear, Catherine. I am deteremined to keep mine where it belongs, and never will I go wandering again. The best thing would be for Clarendon to resign. He could do that gracefully and it might be that we could then avoid unpleasant consequences. James is putting the suggestion to him.”
“James?”
“Yes. Perhaps not the most tactful emissary, but he is my brother and Clarendon’s son-in-law, and it could scarcely come from me.”
Poor Charles! He was very anxious at that time.
The result of James’s interview with the Earl was that the latter presented himself at Whitehall and told Charles that he would give up the Great Seal. Which was wise, said Charles, for the only alternative would have been to take it from him.
I was sorry for Clarendon. He, who had once been mighty, was indeed brought low.
The relinquishing of the Great Seal was not enough for his enemies. He must be arraigned for treason. I was glad that his son-in-law the Duke of York stood by him. Alas, in the midst of this James was smitten by smallpox and had to retire. Fortunately he soon recovered, but people said that the smallpox had been a sign of God’s displeasure because the Duke ha
d defended Clarendon.
In spite of the feeling against him, the Earl was able to prove that the charges had no foundation and they had to be dropped.
Charles showed me the letter he had received from Clarendon.
He wrote: “I do upon my knees beg Your Majesty’s pardon for any over bold or saucy expression I have used to you. It is a natural disease in servants who have received too much countenance…”
He went on to ask the King to have the prosecution withdrawn and to allow his old Chancellor to retire overseas where he could spend his last days in peace.
Charles looked at me in consternation. “What can I tell him?” he said. “There will be an uproar if I give him permission to leave.”
That did not mean that he did not help Clarendon to get away and put an end to this distressing matter.
Clarendon did leave.
He slipped away quietly to the coast and took a ship for Calais.
JAMES’S CONVERSION
LATE THAT YEAR TWO EVENTS OF SIGNIFICANCE TOOK place. Neither of them attracted much notice. I suppose what was happening in Portugal would not; but they were important to me.
Donna Maria was the only one to whom I could speak of Portuguese affairs. In fact, it was the only subject in which she was really interested. She disliked England and constantly wished that we had never come. In vain did I tell her that I had no desire to return to Portugal, especially now that my mother was dead; and if she yearned so much for her native land I would make sure that she returned to it.
This she firmly thrust aside. Had she not been with me all my life? What did I imagine she would do without me to worry about?
“You could live in peace in the country you love.”
“You are the one I love,” she said. “Where you are is home to me.”
Dear Donna Maria! I am afraid I did not always appreciate her and was impatient with her sometimes. I should have been more grateful for all the devotion she gave me.
So with her I talked of events which were taking place in Portugal.
There has been conflict between my brothers.
“Pedro was always impatient with Alfonso,” said Maria. “It is a pity Pedro was not the firstborn.”
“Pedro despised Alfonso and was jealous of him because he was the elder,” I said. “And now he is known as Regent.”
“He was always the one to push himself forward.”
“But it was necessary, Maria. Alfonso could not govern without my mother.”
“Oh, she was the strong one. She knew at every turn what should be done.”
“When she was gone…this was inevitable, Maria.”
She nodded. “My poor Alfonso. What have they done to the boy?”
“He will be all right. They have sent him into exile. He is to live in the Azores, which I believe is very pleasant.”
“As long as he is well looked after.”
“There is something else,” I said. “His marriage has been annulled.”
“What?”
“Alfonso’s wife, Maria Françoise Elizabeth…”
“I know her name,” said Donna Maria impatiently.
“She has been divorced from Alfonso and has married Pedro.”
“He has married his brother’s wife!”
“That is so.”
“So he has not only the crown but the wife as well?”
“It seems so, Maria.”
“I wonder what next. Those boys…they were so pretty.”
“Pedro is making peace with Spain.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It was what my mother would have done. She thought there must always be peace with Spain if possible. It was done with the help of Charles and his government.”
Donna Maria grunted. She believed that Charles had treated me badly and she did not forgive him easily for that, however much he had helped Portugal.
She was shaking her head sadly, thinking of two little boys whom she had loved, playing their childish games. They still played games…but less childish ones.
I left her dreaming of the old days.
The other important event passed almost unnoticed. No one at that stage could guess what violent repercussions it was to have in the future.
James, Duke of York, no longer made a secret of his religious beliefs. He worshipped publicly as a Catholic.
* * *
THERE WAS A NEW MINISTRY after Clarendon had gone. The people called it the Cabal because of the names of the ministers who formed it: Clifford, Arlington, Buckingham, Ashley and Lauderdale.
Charles had high hopes of them.
“They are men of differing opinions,” he said, “so between them they should be able to avoid narrow-minded prejudice. True Clifford is a Catholic — a somewhat fiercely enthusiastic one — and Arlington is also a Catholic, although more moderate in his views. Buckingham…well, you know the noble Duke…perhaps you could call him independent; Ashley is something of a philosopher and Lauderdale a solid Protestant. So you see, we should be well represented from all sides.”
Charles had always been fond of the theater — as it seemed was the whole of London. On his restoration Charles had granted two men of the profession, Sir William D’Avenant and Mr. Thomas Killigrew, a patent to open two theaters.
Charles was on terms of friendship with both these men. They were witty and amusing and Charles found them good companions. Both had been loyal to the royal cause throughout all the troubles and Charles was delighted to be able to reward them by making it possible for them to come back to a profession which they loved; and he naturally honored them with his patronage.
D’Avenant’s theater was called the Duke’s — actually the Duke of York’s. D’Avenant was a playwright and a poet. He had been knighted for valor in the battlefield during the Civil War and had lived in France in exile where he had became a favorite of Queen Henrietta Maria. He claimed to be related to William Shakespeare and he had frequented the court of Charles I, for whom he had written plays and poetry, and made quite a name for himself.
I occasionally went to the theater. I enjoyed the plays and meeting some of the players. We were always on show and the people liked to see us there. Sometimes I felt the people came to see us as much as the play. Charles agreed. “We must not disappoint them,” he said.
During the time of the plague the theaters had naturally been closed; and when the great fire followed, people seemed to have lost their zest for playgoing. It was coming back at this time and the playhouses were beginning to flourish again.
It was Lettice who said to me one day how pleased the people were that the King was going more frequently to the playhouse nowadays.
She said: “He seems to have a preference for Sir William D’Avenant’s players.”
I said: “He always found pleasure in the theater. The reason he has not been there so much of late is because he has had weightier matters on his mind.”
“Well, he is certainly finding D’Avenant’s The Rivals good entertainment.”
I might have known there was some insinuation behind her words. There was one name which I heard mentioned frequently. It was that of a certain Moll Davis.
I asked Lady Suffolk who Moll Davis was.
“Oh, Madam, she is an actress of Sir William D’Avenant’s company.”
“She seems to be attracting a good deal of attention. Is she very good?”
“They say she is very good indeed.”
“Perhaps I should go to see her.”
“It may be, Madam, that you would not care for the play.”
“But since everyone is talking about her…”
“She is a pretty girl…and some people like that.”
She was telling me something.
She went on: “It is her dancing perhaps. She dances a very merry jig.”
Suddenly the truth dawned on me. I heard one of the maids singing a song which sounded like “My lodging is on the cold ground…”
“You don’t sing it like Mo
ll Davis,” said another.
“I’ll swear she doesn’t have to sleep on the cold ground now.”
There was laughter and giggles. “Changed the cold ground for a royal bed, eh?”
So then I knew. I flushed with shame. Why was I always the last to hear?
He was tired of Lady Castlemaine. He would have finished with her altogether, I believed, but for the fact that she would not allow herself to be set aside without making a great noise about it, so I supposed it was easier to let her go on clinging.
I gradually learned that Moll Davis had left the Duke’s Theatre and was set up in a house of her own. She possessed a handsome ring worth six hundred pounds.
Lady Castlemaine was heard to say that the King’s taste had gone from simpering idiots who played making card houses to vulgar actresses who danced jigs.
I was very sad. I thought he had changed a little, grown more serious. But no, nothing had changed. There would always be women…ladies of the court…actresses…it would always be thus.
On reflection, though, it was easier to accept the actresses than the ladies of the court, and when I contemplated what I had suffered through Lady Castlemaine and Frances Stuart, I told myself that I had little to fear from Moll Davis.
* * *
THE COUNTRY WAS in a very precarious position and there was a recklessness in the air. We were on the verge of bankruptcy. Rarely could so many misfortunes have occurred in such a short time.
Charles was worried. There were two sides to his nature. People might think him selfish and self-indulgent, but beneath all that insouciance there was a shrewd and clever mind backed by a determination never to go the way his father had gone. People declared that Clarendon had been the author of our ills. They refused to accept the absurdity of this and waited for the Cabal to produce a miracle.
There was an uneasy situation between James, Duke of York, and the Duke of Monmouth. It was obvious that Charles doted on his son. As for myself, I could never look at that handsome young man’s face without being filled with foreboding. He was a constant reminder of what Charles might have had from the right woman.
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