“Charles,” she implored, “save me from those men. Do not let them send me away from you.” She could no longer hide emotion. The tears streamed down her cheeks, and she knew that he could not bear to see a woman’s tears. They never failed to move him deeply; he was even ready at all costs to stop the tears of women such as Barbara, who turned them on and off according to whether they would be effective.
“Catherine,” he said in dismay, “you distress yourself unnecessarily.”
“It is not unnecessary, I know. Charles … they will do anything to separate us. I know full well it is not merely their hatred of me which makes them determined to ruin me. What do they care for me! Who am I? A poor woman of no importance … unloved … unwanted….”
“I’ll not have you say that. Have I not cared for you?”
She shook her head sadly. “You have been kind to me. Are you not kind to all? Your dogs enjoy your kindness…. The animals in your parks benefit from it. And … so do I. Nay! They do not hate me. I am unworthy of hate … unworthy of love. They hate your brother. They are his sworn enemies. They are determined he shall not rule. They are determined on a Protestant heir. Oh, this is nothing so simple as their hatred for one poor woman…. It is a policy … a policy of state. But, for the sake of that policy, I shall be condemned to a life of misery. Charles, they will trample on my life as Buckingham trampled on Shrewsbury’s. Charles, save me … save me from my enemies.”
He lifted her in his arms and, sitting down, held her on his knee, while he wiped the tears from her face.
“Come, Catherine,” he murmured, as though she were a child. “Have done with weeping. You have no cause to weep. Od’s Fish! You have no cause whatsoever.”
“You are gentle with me. But you listen to them.”
“Listen to their roguery? I will not!”
“Then Charles, you will not let them turn me away?”
“I’ll not allow it.”
“My lord Buckingham makes many plots, and this is no less likely to be carried out than others.”
“Nay! You listen to gossip. You and I will not allow them to separate us. If they come to me with their tales, I shall dismiss them from the Court. And, moreover, we’ll foil them! They say we cannot have children. We’ll show them otherwise.”
He kissed her and she clung to him passionately.
He soothed her; he was adept at soothing hysterical women.
Buckingham, Ashley and Lauderdale laid their plans before the King.
“Your Majesty, the Queen cannot bear children, and we fear that the country is growing restive because of this.”
“The Queen is a young woman yet,” murmured Charles.
“There has been more than one miscarriage.”
“’Tis true.”
“If Her Majesty would be happy in a nunnery …”
“She has told me that she would never be happy in a nunnery.”
Buckingham murmured in a low and wheedling voice: “If Your Majesty gave me permission, I would steal the Queen away and send her to a plantation, where she would be well and carefully looked after but never heard of more. The people could be told that she had left Your Majesty of her own free will, and you could divorce her for desertion.”
Charles looked into the cunning, handsome face before him, and said quietly and with that determination which he rarely used: “Have done and hold your tongue! If you imagine that I shall allow an innocent woman to suffer through no fault of her own, you are mistaken.”
Lauderdale began: “But Your Majesty would wish to take a new wife. Your Majesty could choose any beautiful princess.”
“I am well satisfied with the ladies of my Court.”
“But the heir …”
“My wife is young yet; and hear me this: If she should fail to get children, that is no fault of hers. She is a good and virtuous Princess, and if you wish to keen my good graces you will no more mention this matter to me.”
The three statesmen were aghast.
They were determined that Catholic James should never have the throne. If he ever came to it, their ambitions would be at an end; moreover they foresaw a return to the tyranny of Bloody Mary.
Lauderdale then ventured: “The Duke of Monmouth is a brave and handsome gentleman. Your Majesty is justly proud of such a son.”
“You speak truth there,” said Charles.
“Your Majesty must wish,” said Ashley, “that he were your legitimate son. What joy for England—if you had married his mother!”
“If you had known his mother you might not have thought so. I doubt whether the people of England would have accepted her as their Queen.”
“She is dead,” said Buckingham. “God rest her soul. And she gave Your Majesty a handsome boy.”
“I am grateful to Lucy for that.”
“If he were but your legitimate son, what a happy thing for England!”
Charles laughed lightly. He turned to Buckingham; he knew him to be a dangerous adventurer but, because he was the most amusing man at his Court, he could not resist his company.
“Have done with making trouble with my brother,” said Charles. “Try cultivating his friendship instead of arousing his enmity.”
“Your Majesty, I live in terror of the Duke, your brother,” said Buckingham. “He threatens my very life!”
“I beg of you, no playacting,” said the King, and he began to laugh. “I confess that to see you riding in your coach protected by your seven musquetoons for fear my brother will take your life … is the funniest thing I have witnessed for a long time.”
“I am grateful to have brought a little sunshine into Your Majesty’s life.”
“George! Have done with your plotting and scheming. Let matters lie as they are. The Queen and I may yet get an heir. If not …”
“The Duke of Monmouth is a worthy heir, Your Majesty.”
“A bastard heir for England?”
“We could discover that Your Majesty married his mother. Leave it to me, Sire. I will find a box in which are the marriage lines…. She begged you, she implored you … for the sake of her virtue … and Your Majesty, being the man you always are with the ladies, could not find it in your heart to refuse her!”
The King laughed aloud but his eyes were shrewd. He knew they were speaking only half in jest.
He said abruptly: “Have done! Have done! The Queen stays married to me. I’ll not have the poor lady, who is the most virtuous in the land, plagued by you. As for Monmouth, I love the boy. I am proud of the boy. But he is a bastard and I’d see him hanged at Tyburn before I’d make him heir to my throne.”
The members of the Cabal retired, temporarily defeated. And the matter of the divorce was dropped, for another more serious one arose. This concerned the secret treaty of Dover in which the King, unknown to his people and the majority of his ministers, agreed to become a Catholic and lead the country to do the same; for such services to Catholic France he would become the pensioner of that country. The matter had given Charles much grave thought. He was in dire need of money; he was verging on bankruptcy. There were two ways of raising money; one was by taxing his subjects, as Cromwell had done to such extent that they could bear little more; and the other was by making promises to the King of France—which might never be kept—and allowing France to wipe out England’s deficit.
These matters occupied his mind continually and, when the sister whom he loved so tenderly came to England as the emissary of the King of France, when he realized how deeply she desired his signature to the treaty and all that his signature would mean to her, and how such a signature could make her unhappy life in France supportable through the love of Louis, he agreed—and the very few of his counsellors who were in the secret were of his opinion—that the best way out of England’s troubles was the signing of the treaty.