“Indeed?” He didn’t take my hand but summoned them.
“La Belle Stuart here has a bit of revealing news,” he told them. “She dreamed last night that she was in bed with all three of you!”
I flushed. I had gone too far.
The next day King Charles complained of feeling ill, and the queen burst into tears. I searched his armpits myself but found no swollen buboes to indicate plague. Praise the saints, he felt well enough to gather himself up in a few days to tour the countryside. Leaving me to reassure the ambassadors that he would return soon to hear their constant supplications, and to wonder whether he could ever forgive me for using him so.
CHAPTER 41
Oxford
October
“I had the king in my lodgings at Salisbury at least,” said Queen Catherine with a light hand over her belly as I checked the inventory of tea in her India cabinet in our chambers at Merton College. We had moved on to Oxford so the king could open Parliament away from the bed of agony and death that was London.
“Merton is not far from the king’s lodging at Christ Church, Majesty,” I replied. But she was only voicing my own disappointment. Castlemaine was stationed in a house across the street from Merton; we suspected her child was due soon, but we weren’t sure.
A satisfied grin settled on Queen Catherine’s face, and she rubbed her hand in a circle over her abdomen. “You are right. Sharles not neglect me.”
The queen is with child. A teaspoon slipped from my fingers and clattered on the floor. I bent to retrieve it and hid my face. I am not jealous, I told myself. But when I peeked at her again and saw her happiness, I knew I was.
* * *
The Duke and Duchess of York arrived and took house around Christ Church near the king, who was preoccupied with business. I found myself sitting across from the king’s brother one day in the hall at Merton, playing basset with several maids of honor from his household, including Frances Jennings.
“I had word today from London,” York said, tossing a bill of mortality on the table. “For the first time in months, the number dead from the plague has dropped.”
“Praise heaven.” I eyed the woodcut print of skull and crossbones framing the foolscap and shuddered. “The very word ‘plague’ frightens me.”
“Don’t be so serious!” Frances Jennings studied her cards. “All this talk of plague, war, politics, religion. I say any serious person should be taken to the pillory and whipped.” She pushed a stack of coins into the lot, and the other maids giggled.
“I believe I have a losing hand,” I said quietly, thinking of my family and all we had at stake. I put my cards aside. “Pray excuse me.” I walked out to a large courtyard called the quadrangle and breathed in the October air, so clean compared to London. I wished the bracing, refreshing autumn breeze were enough to blow away my mistakes, set things to rights.
“Frances.” York’s voice sounded beside me. “The plague will abate. You no longer have to live in fear.”
“I do hope you are right.” I continued walking and he kept in step. “Though plagues return. And what of this dreadful war?” I wished he would leave me to my thoughts. “I cannot sit and gamble all day while such uncertainty hangs about me.”
“Gambling is a distraction, a sort of solace. Why, every Royalist man is betting on our monarchy’s success and drawing winnings from every pot just in case it falls.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “Some ladies play that game.”
York looked sidelong at me. “Yet you do not grasp at the drawstrings of the privy purse.”
“The things I need are not monetary.”
“Artless charm,” he whispered. “I’ve longed to speak with you privately. Your beauty has captivated me. I’ve long wanted to ask your favors.”
Don’t damage his pride. My lover’s brother was also the heir apparent until Queen Catherine produced a living child. I had to be careful. He could be the next king. “Me? With legs too long and slender, not even clad in green silk stockings?”
He looked blankly at me for a moment, then blinked when he remembered. “I didn’t really mean that.” His shoulders sagged visibly.
“Please don’t look so forlorn. There are many pretty girls at court who would make you a suitable mistress.” He shot me a grievous look. “Look there, Arabella Churchill is a lovely girl.”
“How I wish you could find something in me to admire.” He stopped, glanced down. “How can I prove my devotion?”
I took a breath to speak, then paused. A risky idea formed in my mind. I took another breath and threw myself straight into it. “Oh, cousin.” I took his hand. “There is something.” The instant brightening of his face should have made me feel shame. “In France, King Louis spoke fervently of his love for you and your brother. He badly wants an alliance of friendship. You’re the lord high admiral. Can you not find a way to secure it?”
York’s eyes couldn’t have opened any wider. “My trade ventures depend on the acquisition of ports from the Dutch. Friendship with France means no war, no way to expand trade. The French have that alliance with the Dutch, you see.”
I let my face look drawn. “Then you put your ventures over me.”
“Very well.” His gaze flicked away. “I shall concede defeat.”
The world seemed to shift. “P-pardon?”
“I shall consider you my victory instead.” His mouth twitched.
Is he bluffing? “Y-you will stop the war?”
He stepped close. “May I come to your bed on my word?”
“My bed?” What have I done?
He leaned his face close to mine, persistent. “What you ask will take time. Would you make me wait to sample my prize?”
I stepped back, struggling for composure. “You insult me if you think me so easy to win.” I couldn’t believe I’d taken the risk. My king was a fool for thinking I could ever make him a better man.
CHAPTER 42
I can assure you, I am on much better terms with Frances Stuart than the Spanish ambassador is with Madame de Castlemaine.
—HONORÉ DE COURTIN
to Louis XIV
The French ambassador’s carriage rumbled toward me. I considered abandoning my walk and running back into Merton College, leaving the clamor of hoof and drivers calling halt. But I had gambled high and it was time to assess the loss.
The golden-crested door swung out before the footman even jumped down. Courtin stepped out and bowed stiffly. “Mademoiselle Stuart. How fortunate to find you, I was just coming to seek an audience with you. Would you accompany me to Christ Church?”
I paused before gesturing for Prudence to climb aloft. “I am at your service.”
Cominges sulked in a corner of the carriage. He nodded when I climbed in beside him. It seemed colder in the little space than it had outside.
Courtin thudded onto the opposite bench and pounded the roof with his fist. I braced my feet against the floorboards, and we lurched forward.
“There may be no pretense today, Mademoiselle Stuart.” Courtin stared at me intently across the short distance. “You’ll have heard your parliament voted unprecedented sums to the Dutch war. Your people hate the French so much I fear our supplications only angered them. We have pleaded for nothing but friendship, yet they seem determined to oppose anything King Louis wants, so great is the animosity toward him. We are now at an impasse. Today we’ve been to see Lord Chancellor Clarendon. So obstinate a man! He heard our final arguments and merely shook his head with a sour expression.”
“We don’t know if he was disgusted with us or grimacing with gout,” Cominges muttered.
“Then we went to the king. Amiable, as always, with no answer to give.” Courtin pressed on. “We went to the Duke of York. Do you know what he said to us?”
I shook my head. I don’t want to know.
“He admitted he wants this war. He said he cared not if King Louis joined the Dutch, but war he shall have.” York had been bluffing after all. Cominges ru
bbed a hand down his face. “Mademoiselle, we’ve heard the Duke of York is in love with you. You must talk to him for us.”
This is the best gambling loss of my life. “I’ve already asked him to cease the war.”
Both men stared. “You spoke to him?”
“I told you I would serve King Louis’ interests. I had the opportunity to ask him, so I took it.” A fresh wave of self-disgust rose in my throat. “His mind is made, sirs. You shall get no cooperation from that quarter.”
Courtin dropped his head into his hands. “There is one more office to petition.” He lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Henry Bennet, the newly made Earl of Arlington. He is one of the king’s highest ministers.” He put his hands on his knees and sat up. “We will take you there now. You may tell him we will call on him before evening, and we shall send another carriage to take you home.”
No! I won’t tolerate another day of France coming between King Charles and me! “Of course.” I touched his knee lightly. “Dearest Courtin, will you do something for me? I fear losing King Louis’ good opinion if I fail. Promise me, even if the worst happens, you will tell your king I was a good and faithful servant to him, and I strove to do his bidding.”
He sighed, long and weary, but nodded.
* * *
When the ambassadors left us outside Arlington’s chambers, Prudence was pale and shivering, but I was heated with determination.
Arlington received me without hesitation, black patch glaring across his nose as ever. “What a surprise. I planned on coming by Merton this evening to see Lady Scroope. Perhaps I can escort you back, eh?”
“I hope you will leave off meeting with your mistress this evening, my lord.”
Arlington paused, a puzzled look on his face. “You know you can call me Henry.”
Good. “Can you do something for me, Henry? It must be our secret.”
Arlington was a consummate courtier, even in the face of flattery and the call to do a noble thing for a distressed lady. He dropped pretense, too, but did it with court flourish. “I am at the service of the king’s favorite. I will endeavor to please you and ever hope it would please him in turn.”
I resented everything about my position, hating my lies and hating my need to lie. “Very well. If you keep this matter private, I shall speak favorably of you to the king.” If the king will ever hear me earnestly again.
His eyes narrowed. “What do you require?”
I told him precisely and coated it in the guise of charity. “My poor friends from France—the Ambassadors Courtin, Cominges, and Verneuil—they suffer in their plight. They hang on here in hopes that we will cease this war with the Dutch so we can ally with King Louis.”
“That will not happen.”
“Then ease their path back home. Tell them for certain and end their anguish.”
Arlington frowned. “As long as they are here trying to make peace, King Louis has an excuse not to side against us. It would be best to finish off the Dutch before taking on France, too.”
“I know. But you’ve been in trade negotiations with Spain for some time. Do you not think some other country will aid us?”
After silently contemplating, he nodded. “I agree. There’s no sense keeping them here; our countrymen treat them with increasing hostility.”
The relief made me light-headed. “Let them believe I tried to coax peace out of you. I wouldn’t want them to think I was trying to get rid of them.” Which was all I wanted at that moment.
He gave his word. No one would remain to force my intercession with King Charles for France. If King Louis ever learned of what I’d done, he would lash out at me by attacking my mother, sister, and brother, all now living in his domain. I had either destroyed my family or fixed everything … and the world would be worse for it.
CHAPTER 43
… the factions are high between the king and the Duke of York, and all the court are in an uproar with their loose amours; the Duke of York being in love desperately with Frances Stuart … so that God knows what will be the end of it …
—SAMUEL PEPYS’S DIARY
November 1665
I took up the habit of waiting for visits from King Charles in the gallery outside my chambers at Merton. While the rest of the court ladies wasted time and money gambling downstairs, I sat by the window overlooking the quadrangle and sewed.
Days had passed without word from the ambassadors. I stood and pressed my forehead against the cold glass window, longing for King Charles, the end of the plague, for some word about France.
“Milady?” Prudence inched the gallery door open and peered apprehensively at me. “Milady, tha French ambassador is here.”
“Send him in.”
Skipping the formalities, I reached for Courtin’s hands. I tried to ascertain his disposition. “I’ve been so anxious to see you. Do come in and tell me what’s happened.”
But Courtin clasped his hands behind his back and looked at the floor somewhere near my feet. “The Comte de Cominges and the Duc de Verneuil ask forgiveness that they do not come to bid farewell personally, and they wish you God’s blessing.”
It was what I had maneuvered for, but I let my tone sound disappointed. I still needed to know if Arlington had given me away. “So, I was unsuccessful.”
“Do not blame yourself, mademoiselle. You did all you could for us.”
My shoulders relaxed. “Surely King Louis will say the same of your efforts here. You must go home in good conscience.”
“Ah … if only I could.”
“What do you mean?” The hair on my neck rose. “You did all you could for King Louis.”
“Reports I’ve received in these last days cause me to reflect on my mission here.” He cleared his throat. “I have concluded that I didn’t know my king’s true motive.”
“I don’t understand. What reports?”
“You are aware that when King Louis married Marie-Thérèse, he was forced to give up France’s old claims on the Spanish Netherlands. Something you may not know, that I should have considered, is that King Louis put his ministers to work at uncovering a way to manipulate the law so he can still claim those lands.”
“Still, I do not see—”
“King Philip of Spain is dead. The new king is young and sickly and will soon die. King Louis is preparing to attack the Netherlands, while Spain is weak, and manipulate the law to defend his actions.”
“Is that all? King Charles suspected he would do such a thing. He told Cominges of this himself some time back—”
“Don’t you see? King Louis distracts statesmen with proclamations of friendship while he claims trading ports. He bides his time, allowing his competition, the Dutch and the English, to prepare to demolish one another while he builds both his trade and his territory.”
For a long moment I was silent. “So, you are saying your efforts here were … a ruse?”
Humility filled his eyes. “I wasted my own time and energy and, I am sorry to say, yours. I hope you can forgive me.”
Ruse. Distraction. Wasted. The thoughts darted through my mind. I felt nothing but the habit to be courteous. “There is nothing to forgive,” I said finally.
The lines of anguish in his face softened. After a quiet moment, he took one step back and bowed deeply to me. “I will keep my promise, mademoiselle. I will report to King Louis that you were his good and faithful servant.” He turned abruptly and marched out.
Was King Louis’ anger at my rejection so great he’d planned this duplicity all along? He could not be trusted to keep my family’s secret. Yet I had no justification for the bitterness welling inside me. After all, I’d sworn fealty to him. It was his right as king to use my loyalty to his benefit. But he was also a man. He’d shown me the love in his heart. I’d revealed the honesty and anguish in mine, and he had taken advantage of it.
* * *
When I saw the smile King Charles bestowed on his queen during Advent and the glowing look she returned to him, I realized she
’d told him she was with child. Queen Catherine was an honest, humble, and faithful woman. She deserved my regard by rights. Still, I revolted at seeing them together.
My mind plotted ways to make it so we could go on as before. But I realized in my anguish that if I had any real love for him, I would allow him to be the man I knew he strove to be. An honorable husband. An honest king. A worthy father. The best, the noble thing to do now, would be to leave him alone.
“Milady?”
The concern in Prudence’s tone pulled me into awareness. I realized I was facedown on my pillow, wet with my own tears.
“Are ye well? Shall I fetch a physician?”
“No.” I rolled over and faced the cold winter sun streaming upon Oxford.
“Oh.” She hesitated. “I thought ye’d want ta know, Lady Castlemaine was brought ta bed of a baby boy today.”
I stared blankly at the bed curtains while envy washed over me. “I see.” So the child was conceived before King Charles had promised to love only me. Indeed. I’ve striven in vain to please the wrong king.
“The queen will know soon. I imagine she’ll be calling yer attendance when she hears.”
“When she calls for me, tell her I am ill.” I rolled into my pillow again. I could relinquish her husband, but I couldn’t face her just yet.
CHAPTER 44
… Sixteen hundred sixty six is come:
When (as some say) shall be the Day of Doom.
—GEORGE WHARTON’S ALMANAC
1666
King Louis declared war on England in January, though he didn’t trouble to attack us. The bills of mortality due to the plague soon dropped enough that the king felt it safe to return to London. He allowed the queen and her court to stay behind, for which I was glad, not wanting to tempt the plague too soon. Nor force myself to face King Charles any more than I must.
I stood meekly behind the queen as she embraced her husband farewell.
Within hours we realized Castlemaine had followed him out of Oxford. Queen Catherine ordered us to prepare for travel. “She’ll sink talons in him again unless I order us go now. Good for me to go be with him. You think yes?”
Girl on the Golden Coin: A Novel of Frances Stuart Page 21
