One day she discovered through her spies that the Duke of Richmond was in Frances’ apartment, and she lost no time in seeking out the King.
She waved away his attendants in a manner which annoyed him, but he did not reprove her for this until they had left.
Then she shouted at him: “Would you have them remain to hear what I have to say? Would you have them know—though doubtless they do already—what a fool Frances Stuart makes of you?”
The King’s calmness could always be shaken by the mention of Frances, and he demanded to know to what she referred.
“We are so virtuous, are we not?” mimicked Barbara. “We cannot be your mistress because we are so pure.” Her blue eyes flashed, and her anger blazed forth. “Oh, no, no, no! We cannot be your mistress because we think you may be fool enough to make us your Queen.”
“Be silent!” cried the King. “You shall leave the Court. I’ll never look on your face again.”
“No? Then go and look on hers now…. Go and catch her and her lover together, and then thank me for showing you what a fool that sly slut has made of you.”
“What is this?” demanded the King.
“Nothing…. Nothing at all. Merely that your pure little virgin is at this moment languishing in the arms of another Charles Stuart. It would seem that she hath a fancy for the name. Only one is a King and to be dangled on a string, and the other … is merely a Duke, so there is no sense in being quite so pure with him.”
“You lie,” growled the King.
“You are afraid of what you’ll discover. Go to her apartment now. Go … Go! And then thank me for opening your besotted eyes.”
The King turned and hurried from the room. He went immediately to Frances’s apartments; he pushed aside her attendants and went straight into that chamber where Frances was lying on a couch and the Duke of Richmond was sitting beside her holding her hand.
The King stood, legs apart, looking at them.
The Duke sprang to his feet. Frances did likewise.
“Sire …” began the Duke.
“Get out of here,” said the King ominously; and the Duke backed to the door and hurried away.
“So,” said the King, turning to Frances, “you entertain your lovers alone at times. Did you find his proposals to your liking?”
Frances said: “They were honorable proposals.”
“Honorable! And he here alone in your apartment?”
“Your Majesty must see that …”
“I know nothing of your behavior to this man,” said the King. “I can only draw conclusions, and I see this: that you, who have been so careful not to be alone with me, employ not the same care in his case.”
Frances had never seen Charles angry with her before, and she was alarmed; but she did not tremble before him; she knew he would not harm her.
She said: “Your Majesty, the Duke came hither to talk to me in an honorable fashion. He has no wife.”
“How far has this gone?”
“No farther than you saw. How could it? I would never submit to any man except my husband.”
“And you plan that he shall be that?”
“I plan nothing … yet.”
“Then he should not be here in your apartments.”
“Are the customs of the Court changing then?”
“We have always heard that you were set apart, that you did not accept the standards of the rest of us frail folk.”
He took her by the shoulders suddenly; his face was dark with passion.
“Frances,” he pleaded. “Have done with folly. Why do you so long hold out against me?”
She was frightened; she wrenched herself free and, running to the wall, clutched at the hangings as though childishly wishing to hide herself among them.
“I beg of Your Majesty to leave me,” she said.
She realized that his anger was still with him. He said: “One day mayhap you will be ugly and willing! I await that day with pleasure.”
Then he left her, and she knew that her relationship with the King had taken a new turn.
Frances, her fear still upon her, sought audience with the Queen.
She threw herself at Catherine’s feet and burst into tears.
“Your Majesty,” she cried, “I beg of you to help me. I am afraid. I have aroused the wrath of the King, and I have never seen him angry before. I fear that when his wrath is aroused it is more terrible than in those to whom anger comes more often.”
“You had better tell me what has happened,” said Catherine.
“He disturbed me with the Duke. He was furious with us both. The Duke has fled from Court. I know not what to do. He has never looked at me as he did then. He suspected … I know not what.”
“I think,” said Catherine sadly, “that he will not long be displeased with you.”
“It is not that I fear his displeasure, Your Majesty. He believes the Duke to be my lover; and I fear he will not have the same respect for me as hitherto.”
“That may be true,” agreed Catherine.
She felt then that she hated the beautiful face which was turned up to hers, hated it as much as she hated that other bold and arrogant one. These women with their beauty! It was cruel that they should have the power to take so easily that for which she longed, and longed in vain.
At that moment she would have given her rank and all she possessed to be in Frances Stuart’s place, loved and desired by the King.
He was angry with this girl, she was thinking; yet with me he never cared enough to be anything but kind.
She was aware of a rising passion within herself. She longed to rid the Court of all these women who claimed his attention. She believed he was tiring of Barbara, whose continual tantrums were at last wearing him down; but this young girl with her matchless beauty and her girlish ways was different. He loved this girl; he had even contemplated making her his wife. Catherine was sure of this.
She said suddenly: “If you married the Duke you would have a husband to protect you. You would show the King that he was mistaken in thinking you had taken a lover. Would you marry the Duke? He is the best match you could make.”
“Yes,” said Frances, “if it were possible. I would marry the Duke.”
“Can you keep a secret?”
“But of course, Madam.”
“Then say nothing of this, but be ready to leave the Palace should the summons come.”
“Whither should I go?”
“To marriage with the Duke.”
“He has gone away. I do not know where he is.”
“Others will have means of knowing,” said the Queen. “Now go to your room and rest. Be ready to leave the Palace if need be.”
When Frances had gone, Catherine marveled at herself. I have come alive, she mused. I am fighting for what I desire more than anything on Earth. I have ceased to sit placidly waiting for what I want. Like others, I go out to get it.
Then she summoned one of her women and bade her bring the Chancellor to her.
Clarendon came, and they talked long and secretly together.
The King’s fury and sorrow, when he learned that Frances had eloped, was boundless.
He could not bear to think of Frances and her Duke together. He knew the young husband to be a worthless person, a devotee of the bottle, and he did not believe that Frances was in love with him. That she should have chosen such a man increased his rage. He declared he would never see Frances again. He blamed himself for having caused that scene in her apartments; he suspected several people of being concerned in helping the lovers to elope, and he vowed that he would never forgive them. The only person he did not suspect was the Queen.
He believed Clarendon to be the prime mover in the affair, and both Buckingham and Barbara confirmed this belief.
Barbara was delighted. Not only was she rid of her most dangerous rival, but Clarendon was in disgrace because of it.