“I know of suffering. Of penury and shame.”
“They confiscated our lands, our estates. We were forced to poach what was once our own property if we wanted supper.”
“The only way an English Royalist could get meat in Paris was by selling stolen art works,” I countered.
“Then can’t you understand? I have to take what I can while I can. You have never seen the mood of the London mob. It could sway against King Charles tomorrow and he’d be gone.” She crossed her arms. “Don’t tell me you haven’t any ambition.”
“You know nothing about why I do what I do.” Praise the saints.
“You try to please everyone. Why don’t you just live for yourself?”
King Charles entered and we started to rise, but he waved us down and sat on the floor before us. “She is no better,” he reported. “She mutters in delirium that she gave birth to a son.”
Castlemaine sighed. “She does not know she has miscarried?”
“She cannot know anything in this state. I made the Portuguese doctors leave her to my physician’s care. But there is little hope. She deserved a better husband than she got.”
“You made her queen.” Castlemaine snorted. “How much better can one get?”
Strands of silver caught my eye as I stroked his hair. “I know she forgives your nature, Majesty. She loves you so.”
Castlemaine waved her hand. “Why do you pine over her?”
“I care for her. She seems to love me no matter what I do. It’s … satisfying.”
His grief became clear to me then. King Charles needed the type of love that mothers offer. Unconditional.
“She can’t fulfill all your needs. That’s why you have…” Castlemaine glanced at me and hesitated. “Us.”
“Yes, Barbara, as long as I have a crown on my head, I know I’ll have you.”
She pinched his arm. “And that head must be attached to your shoulders, don’t forget!”
Watching the banter between them, I understood why King Charles needed Castlemaine. She was like him. It was easy to find physical satisfaction there.
And what was my place? What was I to him? An angel who inspires him to be a better man. If he knew of my scheming and plotting, it would leave me no place at all.
His hair coiled in my fingers, and I eyed the nightdress in my sewing basket. I realized I’d embroidered flowers of white silk thread on stark Dutch lawn. The pure white garment would be perfect for a new bride.
CHAPTER 29
End of October
“The queen’s fever has broken. She lives!” Cornbury stood in the king’s doorway days later, panting.
At first I jumped; he startled me so. He rushed to kneel at my side. “I’ve come from her quarters. The doctors just informed the king that she is sure to live. I wanted to be the one to tell you before Buckingham or Castlemaine returned.”
I turned my face away. “Praise God,” I said softly.
“I’m sorry for you,” he said awkwardly. Then added, “He would have chosen you.” Cornbury let out a strange laugh. “What should you do now?”
A deep breath, which I did not know I’d been holding, rushed out of me. I slowly folded the gown I’d worked on into a tight little bundle and stuffed it into my sewing box. “What a strange question, Lord Cornbury,” I said with a pleasant smile. “I shall wait on our queen while she recovers. And what should you do, silly?”
“Continue waiting for my time, I suppose.” He scratched his head. “I’m thankful, indeed, the queen lives. Sorry for you, as I said, but I’m afraid my family wouldn’t be pleased if King Charles made you his queen.”
“Your father, Lord Chancellor Clarendon, has nothing to fear from me. I would have let you keep your position at court.”
“It isn’t that.” Cornbury’s face reddened. “As long as the queen has no child, the Duke of York is still heir to the throne.”
I understood. “If James is king, you become brother to the Queen of England.”
He shrugged. “Our father’s power would be enhanced.”
“So I am a threat to the house of York because a child of mine would displace you.” He reached for me, but I did not want his comfort. I darted toward the door. “I’m shocked you would place all your hopes on Queen Catherine’s unhappiness.” I wasn’t, but I could think of no other way to lash out at his selfishness.
“My father, he has certain expectations—”
“That is the worst part.” I paused in the antechamber. “You once said you were free to choose your own path.”
* * *
Whenever I stepped out of my apartments, a small clutch of courtiers flocked to me and followed me wherever I went. Escorting me to the queen’s chambers. Keeping tally for me playing bowles on the lawn. Handing me into a carriage. Inviting me to a banquet. Praising my dancing skills.
Then, suddenly, Hamilton distanced himself.
Frasier told me she had overheard Gramont, who was about to become his brother-in-law, pointing out the folly in “frolicking with the king’s woman.” Hamilton’s desertion underscored how lonely I was feeling. Without his distracting charm, I began to notice the way my faction drifted to Castlemaine’s circle and back without explanation. Amid reports of religious risings all over the north, all anyone talked about was what gown was most fashionable this season and who had contracted the clap. People would come to me, asking for this small favor or that, watching my every move. Pretending to take an interest in me while they really groped for daggers of gossip to hurl at my name.
CHAPTER 30
St. James’s Park
November
The Queen Mother’s page pointed to the edge of the forest where she sat bundled in her open carriage. With my goshawk perched upon my gauntlet, I pulled my horse’s reins away from the hawking party, trotting out of the park clearing. No sooner had I sidled by her carriage than she spat her fury.
“Stupid girl. Your time has nearly ended.” The Queen Mother’s voice came out hoarse and barky. She was alone, wrapped in furs and blankets, though it was not very cold.
I bowed my head since I could not very well curtsy while sitting sidesaddle.
“Buckingham and his faction are forming a party again to get you drunk and seduced. It is proof to me, girl, that the king wants you, and you are unconsenting. You have failed the one thing I asked of you. After all I have done for your family, you ungrateful girl. I will die and my life’s mission shall perish with me for your ineptitude!” She closed her eyes. “You have never understood the point.”
Yes, I do understand. England doesn’t need another civil war. My arm tingled, exhausted from holding the hawk, but I held it firm. “Your Majesty,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound defeated. King Charles saw an honorable reflection of himself in my eyes. If I offered to lie with him now, it would corrupt us both. But how could I tell her in such a way that she would hear me? How could I keep her from giving up on me and trying some other scheme? “I’ve not failed.”
She dismissed me with a wave. I pulled my horse’s reins and gave him a soft heel. I slipped off my goshawk’s mask. If I didn’t send her up now, I would never feel my arm again.
She fluffed her feathers and lifted her wings, anticipating her freedom. I untied her jesses, whispered words of encouragement, and threw my arm to the sky. She would fly to the hunt, soar free over England. She would taste the clouds. But when she completed her task, she would obey her training and come back to her master’s arm.
“Your mother is wrong,” the Queen Mother called.
I halted my horse and looked back. Her carriage lurched forward as she said, “She thinks St. Albans would be disgusted if you became the king’s mistress. She has never understood him.”
* * *
Later, still dripping from my bath, I sat before the raging fireplace in my bedchamber while Prudence pulled a tortoiseshell comb through my hair. The heat would make my hair shiny and soft, and each rhythmic stroke bolstered my resolution. The Queen Mothe
r’s deadline for me had arrived like a henchman to the docks. I’d saved enough coin to support my family, but my greater concern was that her next means to pursue a Catholic conversion might meet with success. Civil war had ravaged England before, and Charles I had lost his head in that fight.
My king arrived, as usual, just as I was climbing into bed. “There you are,” he said, peeping through the doorway. “My angelic Stuart.”
I extended my hand.
He knelt at my bedside, pressed his lips to my fingers. “I wanted to come sooner but…”
His familiar scent enveloped me, comforted me. Then I caught a whiff of musky roses on his doublet. Castlemaine’s perfume. I could not show him my anger. I’d never made him promise he wouldn’t lie with her. “Let me guess, you are pressed at every step by those seeking favor.”
“Mmmm,” he murmured into my palm.
“I well know it. They loiter here, and I haven’t the heart to send them all away.”
“It seems George Hamilton no longer nips at your heels. I almost feared he would ask your hand in marriage.”
I looked down to our entwined hands, grabbing my opportunity. “Feared? It would be easier to make me your mistress if I were officially sanctioned as a married woman. Even an arrangement like that of the Earl and Countess of Castlemaine provides legitimate birth names for her children.” I bit the inside of my cheek.
“No, I feared it because I know you. You would devote yourself to a husband.” He looked into my eyes. “I would lose you.”
I stroked his cheek. “You have no need to fear that,” I said, not missing a heartbeat. “Besides, Hamilton was warned away.” I sighed, leaned against the bolsters. “For fear of offending you.”
“It is only fitting that you should have courtly admirers. Tell them I take no offense.”
“Some dare not risk it. They need your favor far more than my attention.” I looked away. “Though, it does leave me rather…”
The king sat beside me. “What is it?”
“Oh, Your Majesty.” I squeezed his hand. “It leaves me terribly lonely. I am merely an avenue to get to you, not available for anything deeper lest they offend their intended prey.”
He winced at that, then pulled me into his embrace. “I can scarcely believe this. Lady Cas— Some ladies gather such persons about and make demands of them as a fee to seek my favor.”
I wanted him to hear my thought: I am nothing like her.
“Yet you, my angel, would never think to do such a thing. You pine for true affection.”
It is working. The king stroked my neck with his lips. “What is it? What can I do to make you feel less lonely?”
“I do long for you when I cannot see you. Perhaps if I were closer to your rooms…”
“I could grant you additional apartments in my lodgings.” His breath warmed my skin.
Victory. “Would you?”
“Rooms below my own are vacant. They overlook the Thames. With a little repair, some paint, you could be moved within a fortnight.”
I was too elated to feel guilty about what I’d done, the lies and pretending. Part of it was true. I was lonely. I knew, too, that I had not gained true affection in this bargain. How could a bargain made with me be true, when what little of truth left in me was quickly slipping away?
“One more thing.” I whispered into his neck.
“Anything.”
“When you go back to your chambers tonight, take Mary and show her the space so she can describe it to me.” While the king nodded, traced my collarbone with his fingertip, and whispered naughty things, I went through a list in my mind. Of skirts, lace, fans, and extra coin I would put into a basket. I would order Mary to take it to my mother early tomorrow morning at Somerset House. Surely the old spy would report to the Queen Mother while she was there.
CHAPTER 31
Somerset House
December
Every courtier at Whitehall was aflutter over my new chambers. Between the storm of whispers and Mary’s errand to Somerset House, surely the Queen Mother believed that her son loved me and I had his ear. She must listen to me now.
I turned my attention back to the priest who stood at the head of the Queen Mother’s chapel, informing us the heavens had shown signs of God’s wrath and that England was doomed to plague and fire. Candlelight flickered over the Queen Mother’s grim black costume. Her lips moved in recital of prayers that I’d come to believe she did not understand. I kept my eye on her, waiting for her to look at me.
After the benediction, she made toward the front of the chapel. At last! I stepped forward. But she gestured for Castlemaine to join her. I joined the procession of maids exiting through the sunlit hall behind Queen Catherine. We were going to the presence chamber where we would stand behind the queens while they drank tea for hours. But I had to talk to the Queen Mother now. I turned and rushed back toward the chapel. Where I saw the Queen Mother hand a small pouch to Castlemaine.
The Queen Mother’s eyes widened the instant she saw me. In that first second, there was a glimmer of something resembling shame. “Your Majesty,” I whispered. “I must apprise you of my progress in … private matters.”
“No. I no longer require your services.”
Castlemaine tossed something into the air that returned to her hand with a fat, jingling thud. I stared at it. Coin. A great deal of it.
The old royal gasped when she heard the sound and flushed a deep shade of crimson. But Castlemaine gazed at me with triumph on her face. The Queen Mother marched out of the chapel, and the door slammed behind her. “Close your mouth, Frances. You look rather stupid like that.”
I snapped it shut. “What is this?”
“Oh, haven’t you heard?” she asked. “I’m converting to Catholic.” She smirked at the leather purse in her palm. “Seems God wants England to turn back to the Church of Rome.”
“You believe this?” My hands went out for something to steady myself, but there was nothing near to grasp. “You’ve staked your soul on converting the king?”
She snorted, slipping the purse into the folds of her velvet skirts. “I can more readily get forgiveness for my many, many sins in your religion. So if I fail as badly as you did, there’s not much harm done.” She patted the bulge under her velvet and it jingled again. “Nothing like the ring of true faith, eh, Frances?”
CHAPTER 32
Early 1664
The King’s Theater had finally relocated to a new building near Drury Lane. Benches in the pit below were padded with green wool, but rushes still covered the floor. Green drapes and gold-tooled leatherwork adorned the boxes and stage, but the movable scenery was still inferior to that in France. Castlemaine sat in a box across the pit with a girl I didn’t recognize. She’d just discovered she was pregnant, and so maintained her status as official mistress. But as far as I could tell, she’d made no move to convert the king. She’d had little opportunity, for the king spent more and more of his free time with me.
I sat in my gallery box with a new friend, an heiress from the north named Elizabeth Mallet. She resisted persistent flirtations from the Earl of Rochester, who sat in the box next to ours, while I eyed the ceiling. Partly open to let in sunlight, it would also let in other elements, and I hoped it didn’t rain.
The Duke of Richmond’s voice sounded behind me. “Keep away from Rochester. That one’s a lecher.”
Rochester peeked over. “Richmond,” he said. “Don’t you have a bottle of whisky waiting for you somewhere?” Mallet giggled.
Richmond ignored him and sat behind me. “Did the two of you come here alone?”
I smiled. “The king’s Life Guards escorted us.”
“Take care when you venture out of Whitehall. Reports of religious risings have made the militia violent. They’re arresting Nonconformists in every county and even overturning Quaker burial grounds. Villagers are nervous. Some have even thrown stones at my retinue.”
“King Charles told me of the rising. You must
watch yourself.”
“Not quite as bad in Dorchester. I’m lord lieutenant there. Off now to report on some prisoners in Dorchester gaol, though, where blood was drawn in the skirmish.”
“It’s kept you busy. How are you?”
He frowned. “New wife refuses to put her funds into my estates. She’s appealed to the king, and we’re going back and forth about it. All I really wanted was an heir. Not making much progress in that way, either.”
“But you have the king’s favor. He just granted you that house in Whitehall’s bowling green. He will take your side.”
A ripple of whispers in the theater caused us to look across the pit. The king had just arrived with the Duke of York. Lady Castlemaine leaned toward their box and started talking to the king. Then she stood, walked out, and reappeared in the royal box! She sat right between the king and his brother. Their displeasure was evident to everyone in the theater.
Mallet exclaimed, “She just did that to prove to the world she hasn’t been replaced.”
Richmond patted my shoulder as he left. “Be careful on that count, too, cousin.”
* * *
I attended Queen Catherine when the king opened Parliament at Westminster two months later. I stood behind her among officers of state, who stood behind King Charles. He sat on his throne in his imperial crown, crimson and ermine robes settled around him. The bishops and the lords sat before him, facing one another on benches. King Charles gave the signal, and the House of Commons rushed into the Painted Chamber, stopping before the barrier designed to separate them from the lords.
For the next quarter hour, King Charles read a series of fabricated truths from the paper in his hands. About how he loved Parliament, though he was actually perpetually frustrated at their doings. About how his subsidies couldn’t be collected, when really he spent far too much.
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