The Wondering Prince

by Jean Plaidy

  “I must,” she insisted, “speak with Your Majesty alone.”

  Louis bowed his head in acknowledgment of her request, and she noticed with dismay how cold his eyes were.

  As soon as they were alone, she cried out: “Louis, there has been a terrible misunderstanding, and I must make you see the truth.”

  He waited impassively.

  She continued hurriedly: “It is quite untrue that I have conspired with my brother against you.”

  He did not answer, and she went on imploringly: “Louis, you cannot believe this to be so?”

  “You are very fond of your brother.”

  “That is true.”

  “The affection between you has been marked by many.”

  “I know it.”

  “Brothers and sisters should have a certain regard for each other, but this affection between you and the King of England is unusual in its intensity, is it not?”

  “I admit we are very fond of each other.”

  “I have talked freely to you of matters of state … state secrets … because I have admired your lively mind. I did not think you would so betray me as to discuss such matters with the King of another country, even though that King was your brother.”

  “You have been misinformed.” She had broken down suddenly. The tears had started to stream down her cheeks. She stammered: “It is not so much that you should think these evil thoughts of me … it is that you should look at me so coldly.”

  Louis’ pity was immediately aroused. She looked so frail after her recent ordeal; he went to her and laid his arm about her shoulders. “Henriette,” he said, “if you have erred in this, mayhap it was due to thoughtlessness.”

  “I have never erred. I would never betray your secrets. Cannot you understand that my only wish is to serve you?”

  “And to serve Charles.”

  “I love him, it is true. But he would never seek to embroil me in trouble. He would never ask me to do that which my regard for you would not allow me to.”

  “You say you love Charles,” said Louis. “I know it. But what of Louis?”

  “I love you both.”

  “Can one person love two others equally?”

  “He is my brother.”

  “And I, Henriette?”

  “You … you are the one beside whom I should have been content to live all the days of my life … had that been possible.”

  “Most women would love such a one more than a brother.”

  She did not answer, and he kissed her cheek gently.

  “I have misjudged you, Henriette. Those who have slandered you shall not escape my displeasure. It may be that one day you will have an opportunity of showing me how much greater is the love you bear for the King of France than that you have for the King of England.

  “I hope that day will not come.”

  He had taken her hands and was kissing them fervently. “It would be infinite joy for me to know that I held first place in your heart,” he said. “Who knows … mayhap one day I shall ask you to prove that to me.”

  For a long time after that Henriette was apprehensive.

  The Comtesse de Soissons recovered, and seemed to regret her confidences. Louis had not redeemed his promise to punish de Vardes, and the man was still at large. Henriette knew that together he and the Countess planned to harm her in the eyes of the King; de Vardes because he knew that now she hated him and there was no hope of her becoming his mistress, the Countess because she was so infatuated with de Vardes that she was glad to help him in any way he wished.

  Henriette realized how little Louis trusted her, and that he still believed she was in secret correspondence with her brother. It seemed to her that the most important thing was to win back Louis’ faith and trust.

  De Guiche had returned to Court. Louis had only allowed him to come back on condition that he did not attempt to see Henriette; but the foolish man could not resist writing to her, and de Vardes, feigning to be his friend, offered to deliver this to Henriette.

  It was only a few weeks after the birth of Henriette’s son, the little Duc de Valois, that she received a message from de Vardes. He assured her that he had been the victim of a terrible misunderstanding and implored her to grant him a short interview.

  Disturbed and desirous of getting to the bottom of these intrigues, which were in progress to turn the King against her, Henriette agreed to see de Vardes and hear what he had to tell her.

  De Vardes accordingly planned to visit her, but before going to Saint-Cloud he sought an audience with the King. He begged His Majesty’s pardon for the intrusion, but if the King would walk with him the length of the gallery, he would show him something which would convince him that he, de Vardes, had been misjudged.

  Louis frowned but said testily that he would grant the interview; and the two strolled off together.

  De Vardes said: “Sire, I have been misjudged with regard to Madame.”

  “I have no wish to speak of Madame.”

  “Your Majesty, I beg of you, allow me to defend myself.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “When I uncovered the perfidy of Madame in her relationship with her brother, my one thought was to serve Your Majesty. Your Majesty did not believe me, preferring to trust Madame.” De Vardes bowed. “I can do no other than accept Your Majesty’s decision. But Monsieur de Guiche has returned to Court, having promised on his honor not to see Madame again.”

  “You suggest that they are meeting?” demanded Louis.

  “I have this letter—a profession of his undying devotion. He knows full well that he disobeys Your Majesty’s command.”

  “He is a man in love,” said Louis musingly.

  “And Madame? Is Madame a woman in love?”

  Louis was hurt and angry. It was true that La Vallière was his mistress whom he desired passionately, but for Henriette he had cherished an ideal love. If, while professing to love him, she was receiving a lover, it was more than he could bear. She had sworn to him that there were no lovers; she had in her way reproached him for lacking her own fidelity. And mayhap now she was laughing at him with de Guiche.

  He said: “Take this letter to Madame. I will come with you, but you shall go to her and I shall remain hidden until you have handed her the letter. If she is my good friend—as she swears she is—she will not read the letter, which she knows comes to her in flagrant disobedience to my commands.”

  De Vardes bowed.

  Louis took de Guiche’s letter, read it and knew great jealousy.

  He thought: I have been deceived. I have told myself that if I could have married Henriette, I should be the happiest man alive. I have idealized her; but if this man is her lover, she is unworthy of idealized love.

  It was typical of Louis, openly unfaithful himself, to expect fidelity in others. Henriette had always known this side of his nature; but did she love him for his virtues? No more than she loved Charles for his.

  And so the letter was brought to her, and the King was secreted in a closet to see and hear her reception of it.

  When she saw what her visitor had brought, she turned away from him. “You bring me that which I have no wish to receive,” she said. “I pray you take it back to him who gave it to you and tell him that he breaks the King’s command by writing to me thus.”

  De Vardes fell on to his knees; he tried to take her hands; he exerted all his fascination, to the potency of which there were so many women at Court to bear witness, in an effort to make her betray some weakness to the watching King.

  But Henriette had no love for either de Guiche or de Vardes, although she entertained a certain fondness for the former.

  “Pray leave me,” she said. “I wish to hear no more from either of you. I wish only to be left in peace; you have done me too much harm already.”

  De Vardes left and immediately Louis joined Henriette. She was shocked to realize she had been spied upon; but it was a great relief to know that Louis was her friend again.

  �
�Now I have heard with my own ears and seen with my own eyes how you spurn these fellows. Can you forgive me for accepting their word against yours? I was jealous, Henriette. Oh, what an unhappy state is this in which we find ourselves!”

  “If I may see you often,” she said, “if I may enjoy your friendship, I could be happy.”

  “We shall be together as we were before. My favor is yours as it ever was. Henriette, we love and our love is a sacred passion … above more earthly loves.”

  Then she felt it was as it had been when they had first made that wonderful discovery regarding each other.

  But still he did not carry out his threats to punish de Vardes; and he remained jealous of Charles.

  One of the noblemen of the Court was giving a masked ball, and as the King was not present on this occasion, the principal guests were Monsieur and Madame.

  There was a great deal of excitement, as there always was at these affairs; flirtations were conducted under cover of wigs and masks. Henriette was glad of the anonymity.

  She and Philippe went by coach to the nobleman’s mansion—not in their own coach, which would have betrayed them, but in a hired one. Philippe scarcely spoke to his wife nowadays; he had ceased to show any great interest in her. He was pleased that she had given him a son who seemed to be more healthy than the Dauphin; he was pleased also that their daughter lived, although the King’s had died. Henriette knew that such rivalry would always exist between them. Anne of Austria and Mazarin had perverted Philippe’s mind during his childhood, when he had always been compelled to remember that his brother was his King.

  When they arrived at the house Philippe gave his hand to the nearest lady, and a man immediately came forward to escort Henriette.

  As she laid her hand on his satin sleeve she was aware of his excitement.

  She said: “Have we met before, Monsieur?”

  He answered: “Madame, we have.”

  “Then you know my identity?”

  “Who could fail to recognize the most elegant and beautiful lady of the Court? Madame is like a slender lily compared with weeds.”

  Then since you know me, I pray you keep my identity secret. Remember this is a masked ball.”

  Then glancing down she caught sight of his hand, and she remembered hearing that, in the recent battle in which he had taken part, de Guiche had lost several of his fingers. The hand of this man was maimed.

  Henriette caught her breath. How could she have been mistaken? He had a distinguished air, this de Guiche. He had a recklessness, something of the adventurer in him. He was taller than most men—though not as tall as Louis; now she saw that the large mask did not entirely conceal the well-shaped nose and sensitive mouth.

  She thought: So he has dared to seek me out in this way! This is folly. If Louis were to hear of our meeting he would believe that I have been guilty of conspiring to bring it about.

  “Monsieur,” she said, “I wish you to leave me when we reach the top of the staircase.”

  “Madame … dear madame … I had hoped to be your companion for longer than that.”

  “You are a fool!” she cried. “I know who you are. So will others. And as you recognized me … so will they.”

  “Madame, I had to speak to you. I had to find some way. I could not endure those days without a sight of you.”

  “Monsieur de Guiche, you know you disobey the King’s orders. If you have any regard for me, bring no more trouble on yourself … or me.”

  “It is not only to give myself the joy of seeing you and speaking to you which has brought me here. I know that to be dangerous. But I have to warn you; I do not believe you understand to the full the treachery of de Vardes and his mistress.”

  “I think I understand full well how those two have tried to harm me in the King’s eyes.”

  “I beg of you, listen to me. De Vardes is determined to ruin us both. Madame de Soissons is jealous, not only of the King’s regard for you, but because de Vardes desired you so passionately. De Vardes is not in high favor with the King, but Louis always has a soft spot for his mistresses, and Madame de Soissons has his ear. She has this day told the King that, in secret correspondence, you have suggested to your brother that you take possession of Dunkirk in his name; also that this is my plan, and that I am ready to place my regiment of guards at your disposal.”

  Henriette caught her breath. “But this is madness.”

  “The madness of jealousy … envy … and those determined on revenge. The King already suspects you are more ready to serve your brother than to serve him. Madame, beware.”

  Philippe, who had reached the top of the staircase, had turned and was watching them.

  Henriette whispered: “He knows you. He has recognized you. He has never forgiven you for turning from him to me. He too suffers from his jealousy. I beg of you, Monsieur de Guiche, as soon as we reach the top of the stairs, leave me. And leave this ballroom. It is unsafe for you to be here.

  And when they reached the top of the stairs, she turned hastily from him and started to walk towards Philippe. In her haste her foot caught in her gown and she tripped and fell. It was de Guiche who leaped forward to catch her.

  There were gasps of horror from those about her. Someone said in a loud voice: “Madame has fainted!”

  Henriette realized that she was recognized, and in de Guiche’s arms. She hastily disengaged herself; but as she did so she was aware of de Vardes’ cynical voice beside her.

  “There is no mistaking Madame. That beauty … that elegance cannot be hidden by a mask. But who is her savior? I think we may be forgiven a little curiosity on that score.”

  He stepped towards de Guiche and with a swift movement tore off his mask.

  There was a murmur of: “De Guiche!”

  “Our gallant soldier!” said de Vardes mockingly. “It is no great surprise that he should be at hand … when Madame needs him.”

  With great dignity de Guiche cried: “Monsieur de Vardes, my friends will be calling on you tomorrow.”

  De Vardes bowed: “Monsieur, they will be most welcome.”

  De Guiche then turned and walked haughtily through the press of courtiers and out of the ballroom.

  Philippe, white-lipped with anger—for never had it seemed to him that de Guiche looked more handsome—gave his arm to his wife and led her away.

  All through that evening, behind their masks, guests talked of this affair; and Henriette knew that, before the night was over, news of what had happened at the masked ball would reach the ears of Louis.

  She had implored the King to believe her guiltless. He was kind. He agreed on the villainy of de Vardes, but still he allowed him to go free. In her heart, Henriette knew that he did not entirely believe in her innocence.

  Was there no one to whom she could appeal? There was only one person in the world whom she could entirely trust, and he was on the other side of the water.

  At last she decided to ask for Charles’ help, and she wrote to him:

  I have begged the Ambassador to send you this courier that he may inform you truly of the affair which has happened about de Vardes. This is a matter so serious that I fear it will affect the rest of my life. If I cannot obtain my object, I shall feel disgraced forever that a private individual has been allowed to insult me with impunity, and if nothing is done to punish this man, it will be a warning to the world in future how they dare attack me. All France is interested in the outcome of this affair. Out of your love for me, I beg you ask the King for justice. I am hoping that the consideration in which you are held here will settle this matter. It will not be the first debt I have owed you, nor the one for which I shall feel the least grateful, since it will enable me to obtain justice in the future.

  She knew that her cry for help would not be in vain. Charles answered at once that she could rely on his assistance.

  Two weeks later de Vardes was lodged in the Bastille.

  As for de Guiche, it was clear that he must not be seen at Court again. His fathe
r, the Maréchal de Gramont, advised him to beg one last audience with Louis, during which he must convince the King that he served no other master; after that he must depart and never see Henriette again.

  This de Guiche promised to do, but he could not deprive himself of one last farewell. He dared not seek her in her apartments, so he dressed himself in the livery of one of the servants of La Vallière that he might see Henriette pass in her chair from the Palais-Royal to the Louvre.

  This was the last he saw of her before he left for Holland and a brilliant military career.

  The affair of de Guiche and de Vardes was closed, the King implied; but he continued to ponder on the relationship between Henriette and her brother.

  TEN

  A year had passed since the imprisonment of de Vardes and the banishment of de Guiche.

  Louis was often in the company of Henriette. Always he was deeply affectionate, although at times she was aware of those suspicions which would return to his mind, and they always concerned her brother Charles.

  Now that Louis was coming into his kingdom, now that he had made himself true ruler of France, he began to realize that he could use Henriette’s influence with her brother in negotiations between the two countries. Moreover, Henriette’s quick mind was as good as that of any statesman he possessed; and Louis was shrewd enough to know that a woman who was in love with him would make a better servant than anyone who worked for his own fame and glory.

  There was only one doubt which arose now and then in his mind: Did the affection of Henriette for her brother exceed that which she had for himself?

  He could not be entirely sure. It was a matter of great fascination and importance to him. This love between himself and Henriette was of greater interest to him than the more easily understood passions which he felt for La Vallière and her new rival, Madame de Montespan.

  His mother, Queen Anne, was very ill, and he was aware that she could not live long. As he danced with Henriette, La Vallière or Montespan, his thoughts went often to his mother. He was fond of her, although lately she had interfered too much in his affairs, and she could not forget that he was her child, and continued to look upon him as such.