Loyal in Love: Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I

by Jean Plaidy

  “Madame,” he said, “pray leave the royal coach at once.”

  Mamie turned pale while I looked on disbelievingly. At home the chief lady of honor always rode with my mother and the chief gentleman with the King.

  She rose uncertainly but I cried out: “She shall ride with me.”

  “There is no place for her in my coach,” said the King.

  Mamie gave me an appealing glance and prepared to step out of the coach, but I caught her skirt and would not let her go. I never could control my temper and it was rising now. It seemed desperately important to me that Mamie should ride in the coach. Charles must learn what she meant to me, and I would not have her insulted in this way.

  Poor Mamie! For once she did not know what to do. The King was glaring at her, ordering her to go, while I held her skirts firmly in my hands and ordered her to stay.

  I looked steadily at my husband and there must have been defiance in my eyes—more than that, hatred. He looked back at me…coldly, but a little bewildered I noticed.

  I said coolly: “If my chief lady of honor does not ride in the coach then I will not either.”

  “She shall travel with the rest of the attendants,” said the King.

  “She is my special friend and she has always ridden with me in my carriage and she shall do so now and if she does not I shall stay in this dirty old castle until I can return to my country.”

  It was wild nonsense really. As if I could return! As if that would be allowed! I was irrevocably married to this cold-eyed man and in that moment I hated him. But I was never very logical in my rages. Mamie had pointed that out to me many times.

  The King was white with anger. And this was the first day of our meeting! I knew that it did not augur well for the future.

  There was deep silence all about us. I saw the Earl of Holland looking on in disbelief while in the face of the Duke of Buckingham there was the flicker of a smile. I had an idea that he was enjoying looking on at this—my first conflict with my husband.

  I glared at the King. Mamie said afterward that I looked like a wildcat and she thought I was going to fly at him. I knew my eyes were blazing and I spat out my words so fast that many of the English had no idea what I was saying, which was perhaps just as well.

  I suppose I was a little hysterical. I was like that when one of my rages took possession of me, and I knew that there was more to this than appeared on the surface. It was because I was so frightened that I let my anger get the better of me.

  Charles had stepped out of the carriage. I thought he was going to drag Mamie out so I clung to her skirts. She looked at me entreatingly and muttered under her breath: “Let me go. We must stop this scene….”

  But I would not let her go. I felt the hot and angry tears in my eyes and willed them not to fall. I was trembling but determined. If Mamie left the carriage, I told her fiercely, I should go too.

  Several of the King’s ministers had come to him. They seemed to surround him and there was a great deal of whispering going on. The incident could not have lasted more than a few minutes but it seemed much longer.

  Then those about the King parted and Charles stepped into the carriage. For a few seconds I waited in trepidation for what would happen next. He seated himself next to me and signed for Mamie to take the seat opposite, which she did. Then the horses began to move forward.

  For a few seconds I felt exultant. I had won. And then a mood of foreboding settled on me while I saw the King’s glance sweep over Mamie. There was an implacable hatred in his face.

  On the way to Canterbury we came to a place called Barham Downs. There pavilions had been set up and a banquet awaited us, and among those who greeted us were several Englishwomen whom the King presented to me as the ladies of my household.

  I greeted them somewhat regally because I had brought the ladies of my household with me and I could not see that I should need more than I already had. But at least I was experienced enough to know that this was not the time to raise the question. We had had enough for one day in the upset over Mamie and the carriage. So I smiled and played the gracious Queen and my husband’s expression grew a little less frigid. I was hungry and I did full justice to the food which had been prepared and I did feel it was rather pleasant to be in the open fields and watch the pennants fluttering in the light breeze and think that all this had been set up in this green field in honor of me.

  My spirits continued to rise as the ancient town of Canterbury came into sight, for the approaches to the city were beautiful with the entire scene dominated by the cathedral’s magnificent tower.

  It was dusk when we arrived and a splendid feast awaited us. The King now seemed to have recovered his good humor and he smiled and talked to me at table, insisting on carving the meat for me himself, which was a great honor.

  Father Sancy, my confessor, was watching me, and I knew this was because as it was a fast day I should not be eating meat—but I was hungry and I felt rebellious against authority no matter from what quarter it came. Moreover I was a little triumphant after my victory in the carriage, and while I ate heartily of the meat, which seemed to please the King, I avoided the eyes of my confessor. I would be ready with my excuses when I received his reprimand—as I surely would—and I would explain to him that as I had come to live in this country I must respect its customs. I hoped my confessor had not heard of the incident in the carriage.

  After we had feasted, the King said there would be a small personal ceremony of marriage. We were married it was true, but only by proxy and he wished to be present at his own ceremony. It would be quiet and quick…but nevertheless a ceremony of marriage.

  So this was performed in the great hall of the city and everyone could be satisfied that we had taken our vows to each other personally.

  I was appalled by the state of my apartments and the bed was certainly no better than the one I had slept in on the previous night. How strange that was, for this was my marriage bed which I was to share with the King. Were the English savages? How should I ever grow accustomed to living in such conditions?

  Mamie helped me undress and dismissed the rest of the women so that we could be alone. I could see she was still shaken by the incident in the coach.

  “It was wrong,” she said. “You should not have insisted.”

  “I do insist and I shall go on insisting that you ride in the carriage with me as you did in France.”

  “We are not in France now,” she reminded me. “When you live in a country you must conform to that country’s customs…particularly if you are its Queen.”

  “I shall conform to none…but my own. I will tell you what is wrong with these people. They are heretics…and that means they are little better than savages.”

  “Be careful,” said Mamie.

  “Am I the Queen or am I not?”

  “You are the King’s consort, which makes you a queen, but your title comes through him.”

  “You talk as though you are on their side.”

  “I am always on your side. You know that well enough.”

  Then we fell into each other’s arms and hugged each other.

  She was very serious. “You know that tonight you will share the King’s bed,” she reminded me. “You know what is expected of you?”

  I nodded.

  I saw the worry in her eyes. “You know you have to love your husband,” she said.

  “I am not sure that I am going to do that. This afternoon in the coach I hated him.”

  “Oh, my little Queen, I can see trouble for you if you do not control your rages.”

  “My rage worked well today did it not? You rode in the carriage because I insisted.”

  “I think it would have been better if I had quietly alighted and murmured apologies about not understanding the English customs. The King would have understood and that would have been an end to the matter.”

  “The matter ended in triumph for me.”

  “Let us hope that we have seen the end of it.”


  “What is wrong with you? Why are you different today? You would have laughed in the old days.”

  “These are not the old days. Try to remember that we are in a new country…and remember, too, that from now on it is our country.”

  “I shall change it.”

  “You talk like a child.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Do I? My mother and the Pope himself have told me that I must change it. Are they children?”

  “Oh take care, dear child, take care.”

  I could not shake her out of her gravity, which was so unusual with her. I should have been quite angry with her if I hadn’t known that the change in her was due to her concern for me.

  But she could not rob me of my triumph over the carriage incident. I had won. There was no denying that. I did realize though that my own mother would have taken a very different view of my tantrums. I should have been lectured, punished and denied what I had demanded if that incident had taken place in France.

  Now I had the night ahead to think of.

  How different this from the royal coucher at the Louvre. The King was undressed by only two of his gentlemen which would have been considered very odd indeed and quite unroyal by the standards prevailing in France.

  He came to me in that shabby old room and looked round it. At first I thought he was going to comment on its shabbiness—and perhaps apologize for it—but it seemed he was only making sure that we were alone.

  Then he went to the door and locked it.

  He looked different in his night attire—not nearly so formidable as he had in the carriage. He seemed to have forgotten all that now and in any case he had not appeared to be displeased with me but with Mamie, which struck me as very unfair.

  He lay down on the bed and made me lie beside him; then he put his arms about me and began to tell me how happy he was that I was there and how my appearance pleased him and that it was our duty to have children.

  I listened and waited.

  I was passive in his embrace and found I was able to endure what followed with a certain fortitude for I knew that it was part of the duties which were required of me.

  I lay bewildered afterward and wondered what people like Madame de Chevreuse, Buckingham and Holland found so exciting about it.

  The King seemed rather pleased. I was tired out by all the emotions of the day and fell asleep quickly.

  In the morning when I awoke the King had already left the bed and the door was unlocked. My ladies came in to help me with my toilette and Mamie looked at me questioningly.

  I nodded. “Yes. It happened.”

  “And you…?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It was no worse than I expected.”

  Mamie said: “I knew the King was kindly.”

  But she continued to look uneasy and I guessed she was remembering the incident in the coach.

  I burst out: “I don’t like England. I don’t like the King. I want to go home.”

  “Hush,” said Mamie. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.”

  Then I threw myself at her and refused to let go; she rocked me as she might a baby. I wanted to tell her how only she made it bearable here, how I was tired of being the Queen of England and wanted to go back to being merely a Princess of France.

  “I want to go home!” I cried.

  “Hush,” she said. “Don’t be a baby.”

  We spent another night in Canterbury which was very like the first and I was glad to leave the dingy old apartments for the fresh country air. I had to admit that the landscape was very beautiful with green meadows and majestic trees. I felt better when we were riding away from Canterbury and although I did not like my husband very much, I hoped I should not have to see a great deal of him. During the days I would be with Mamie and my ladies and we could dance and sing together and share our jokes and contempt for our new country while we talked nostalgically about the one we had left. Yes, I thought I could bear that.

  We came to Gravesend where we were to stay as the guests of the Countess of Lennox. She was waiting to greet us and paid great homage to the King; then she turned to me and bowed very low. She said she was greatly honored that we should be her guests and added that she had grave news which she thought should be imparted to the King immediately.

  He looked very serious and she went on: “It is the plague, Your Majesty. It will be most unsafe for you and the Queen to travel through the streets of London.”

  My husband said: “But the people will be expecting us. They will want their processions and all the pageantry which goes with them.”

  “Nevertheless that is how it is, my lord. You will hear more of this but I thought I should tell you without delay.”

  How serious the King was! He never seemed to laugh spontaneously. Perhaps that was why I found it so hard to like him.

  Now instead of the pleasant welcome I had been looking forward to there was great concern and people were gathering round the King deciding what should be done.

  I was taken to an apartment to rest and Mamie came with me. While we were there Father Sancy came to us and said he wished to have a word with me, so Mamie retired and left me alone with my confessor, which was the last thing I wanted.

  He then began reprimanding me for eating meat in Canterbury and I said what I had prepared myself to say which was that I had only been following the customs of my new country.

  “Following the customs of heretics!” he thundered. “That is a fine way to begin! What will you do? Deny the true Faith because it is the custom of savages among whom you live?”

  “That is very different from eating meat, Father.”

  “You have gone against the laws of Holy Church.”

  “I shall not do it again, Father.”

  He seemed faintly mollified. His eyes shone with zeal and as he looked round the room his expression changed to one of contempt, although the apartment was an improvement on those I had had at Dover and Canterbury.

  “And now,” he went on, “there is consternation about your ride through the streets of London. Plague, they say. Let me tell you, my lady, there is constant plague in this accursed country and there will be until these misguided people come to the Truth. It is God’s way of punishing them. It was a sad day for us when we came to this land.”

  “My mother did not seem to think so. Nor did the Holy Father.”

  Father Sancy wagged a finger at me. “The Holy Father gave the dispensation most reluctantly, and for a reason.” He brought his face close to mine. “The work must begin without delay. You have been chosen for a great task, my lady, and that is to lead these people back to the true Faith.”

  I tried to look solemn. I was longing for him to go. There was so much I had to say to Mamie. I cast down my eyes and folded my hands demurely together. What should I wear for my procession into London? I was asking myself.

  “And,” he went on, his voice growing louder, “you will not do it by eating meat on a fast day.”

  The simplest way to be rid of him was not to argue although it was hard to resist the temptation to do so. I murmured a prayer with him and he left.

  Mamie came running in.

  “I have heard that we have to go to London by barge which will prevent our having to go through the plague-ridden streets,” she cried. “And you are to wear green. The King will wear green also. I suppose it must be an emblem of spring.”

  Then I dressed and we laughed as I told her about Father Sancy and I added: “If I want to eat meat, I shall eat meat, I shall be ordered by no one, Mamie, neither priest nor husband.”

  “You are a wild rebellious creature,” she said, “and,” she added, “you always were.”

  “And always will be,” I assured her.

  “We shall wait and see,” said Mamie, which made us laugh because that was what she used to say to me when I was very young.

  The next morning I went with my husband and our attendants onto the state barge. The river seemed to be crowded with craft of all kinds becaus
e many of the nobility who could had come to join the escort into London, and as we stepped on board there was a volley of fifteen hundred shot which was quite deafening.

  I enjoyed sailing down the river. The King beside me seemed very benign though still serious. I wondered if he ever laughed out loud. It should be another of my tasks to make him do so, but that appeared to be almost as formidable as turning Protestant England into a Catholic country. I loved the big ships of the Navy which the King pointed out to me with pride as we passed. I had never seen anything like them in France and as we passed them and they fired their ordnance, it was the most thrilling moment that had come to me since my arrival in England.

  It was late afternoon when I saw the great Tower of London looming up before us—not beautiful as our buildings are, but formidable and very impressive. The gay flags fluttering from its towers looked rather incongruous and as our barge approached the guns fired so loudly that I almost cried out in half terror, half delight.

  The King was amused. He smiled faintly, which was a good deal for him to do; the riverbanks were crowded with people and they were shouting “Long live our little Queen,” which my husband translated for me and which so pleased me that I waved my hand in acknowledgment. They seemed pleased by that, and as the King still wore that rather reluctant smile I guessed I was doing what was right.

  As we progressed along the river we came right into the city and here the crowds were even greater. People not only lined the riverbanks but had climbed on ships lying in the river and they were shouting and waving from ships’ hulls and craft of all kinds. There was one event which might have been disastrous and it happened just as we were passing. One of the ships capsized suddenly. I suppose too many people had scrambled onto it. It went down into the water and I heard afterward that there were more than a hundred people on board.

  I heard screams and cries of consternation and the attention of the crowd was turned from us to the people struggling in the water. Fortunately there were plenty there to effect a rescue and everyone was eventually brought safely out of the river and all they suffered really was a terrible fright and a dunking.