Anne mentioned it to me when we were at our next rehearsal. She said: “Did you hear about the outrageous behavior of the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Buckingham?”
“I did,” I answered. “Everyone is talking about it.”
“He will now be in Madrid.” Anne looked a little wistful. She enjoyed her position here in France but I sometimes thought she was a little homesick. “Somehow,” she went on, “I don’t think this marriage will come to anything.”
“Oh surely it will. Such a bold young man will surely succeed with your sister.”
“It is not a matter of succeeding with her. I agree she may like him well enough. But nothing is likely to come of this. In the first place the Prince is a heretic from a heretic country. My sister is deeply religious—far more so than I ever was—and one of the terms of the marriage is to restore the Palatinate to Frederick who is the son-in-law of the King of England and brother-in-law to this Prince Charles. They ask too much, and I will tell you something: The Parisians may laugh at two young men who come in disguise on a romantic mission, but the Spaniards will not. They are very formal. No, I feel sure this is a mission doomed to failure.”
“It seems a pity. But you never know what governments will do. They take the strangest decisions sometimes. I think it is rather charming and romantic to come in disguise to court a lady.”
“Oh, I can see he has taken your fancy. It is a pity he did not come to court you.”
“Me? What do you mean?”
“Well, we shall have to find a husband for you, and don’t forget that whoever marries that young man will be the Queen of England.”
“But you just said your sister could not marry him because he is a heretic. I am Catholic too.”
Anne crossed herself. “As all right-thinking people are. But—apart from his religion—he is the most eligible bachelor in Europe…at least one of them. He has a crown to offer. Oh, I wish he had seen you better. The light wasn’t very good and he would have been seated rather far away. I wish I had known who they were….”
“But, Anne, he is going to woo your sister. I am only fourteen.”
“I was married when I was fourteen.”
I shivered slightly but I thought that if ever I was married I should like the young man to take the trouble to come and court me.
I often wondered what the Prince of Wales had thought of the Infanta and what happened to him when he reached Madrid. It was strange—almost as though I had a presentiment of what was to come—but I could not get him out of my mind.
War had broken out in France—the sort of war everyone dreaded—with Frenchmen fighting against Frenchmen. When my father had been alive he had appeased both Catholics and Huguenots. It was different now.
The war was remote from Paris and I thought little about it. I was so completely involved with my singing and dancing. I did gather that the King’s armies were winning, but as long as what was happening outside did not interfere with my pleasure I dismissed it from my mind.
But there was change in the air and in time even I could not ignore it.
Charles d’Albert, Duc de Luynes, died…but not in battle, although he was in camp at Longueville when he was struck down by a malignant fever.
He had been so powerful and so eager that everyone should know how important he was—as people often are when they have risen from small beginnings to high honors. And now he was dead.
I heard that he had been very ill for three days and during that time, because they knew he was dying, his attendants had not bothered to come to his aid. So, as he had been no longer in a position to do them harm or good and was obviously close to death, he was ignored and left to die in agony with no one to give a hand to help him.
I felt rather sorry for the Duc de Luynes.
When he died they put his body on a bier to carry it away and so little did they reverence him that some of the servants actually played piquet on his bier while they waited for their horses to be watered and fed.
Of course his death changed everything. Louis was too weak to reign on his own. My mother came back into power and with her came Richelieu who had done so much to keep the peace between my mother’s party and that of my brother.
My mother was jubilant. She saw herself holding the reins again and ruling, with the help of Richelieu.
What she did not see was that in Richelieu, who had now become a Cardinal, she had found a man who was determined to take complete charge and guide a weak King in the way he should go.
It was a blow for my mother, but good fortune for France. But that was later, of course.
In the meantime envoys from the King of England had arrived in France and what they proposed was of the utmost importance to me.
BETROTHAL
It was a rather bleak February day. I would not be fifteen until the following November so was still very young. Mamie, who was by nature curious and particularly so about matters which concerned me, was the first to tell me about our visitor.
“My Lord Kensington has arrived,” she said, “and I have heard that he comes to France on a very special mission.”
I replied that when foreign noblemen came to Court it was usually on some special mission.
“I believe he is a great friend of the Duke of Buckingham, and as the Duke of Buckingham is the first favorite of the King of England and known to be a crony of the Prince of Wales, does that suggest anything to you?”
“That his visit might be more than just for personal pleasure.”
“The Prince of Wales is of an age to marry.”
“I believe so and it was for that purpose that he went courting in Spain. Perhaps Lord Kensington calls on us now as the Prince of Wales and Duke of Buckingham did when they were on their way to Spain.”
“The Spanish arrangement no longer exists. The Prince and Duke were not pleased with their reception in Spain.”
“You mean he is not going to marry the Infanta?”
“I do mean that. It is said that he looks elsewhere for a bride.”
I felt myself go cold suddenly, as though—as Mamie would say—someone were walking over my grave.
“Who?” I heard myself whisper.
Mamie took me by the shoulder and replied, smiling: “Who else?”
From then on my thoughts were in a turmoil. I quickly realized that Mamie’s surmise was not without foundation.
I was torn by contrasting emotions. There was pleasure…excitement…but always apprehension. He had decided against the Princess of Spain. What if he should do the same in the case of the Princess of France.
I knew there was no doubt of what was afoot when my mother sent for me.
All the way to her apartments I tried to tell myself that she wanted to see me about a masque which Anne was devising and in which I was to play a prominent part. As we had a visiting lord from England it might be that she wished us to perform something special.
But, of course, it was nothing to do with the masque.
I curtsied to my mother, who beckoned me to come closer. She laid her hands on my shoulders and said: “You have grown into a very pretty young woman, Henriette. I am glad. That will please your husband.”
I did not answer and she went on: “I have good news for you. It may well be that you will be the bride of the Prince of Wales. You understand what that means? You will, in due course, be Queen of England.”
I tried to look greatly impressed but I was only extremely nervous.
“I always wanted crowns for you children. Elizabeth has hers, and now it is your turn, my daughter…although of course it is not yet yours. I want you to do all you can to please Lord Kensington who will carry back a report to his master. You are to have a miniature painted and he will take it back with him to England. I am sure we shall get a lovely picture. Stand up straight, child. It is a pity you do not grow a few more inches.” She looked at me critically. I had always been a little self-conscious about my height for I was an inch or so shorter than most people of my age. Mamie used to say: “Little and good. You are dainty and feminine. Who wants to be a strapping hoyden?” But I could see that my mother did not agree with that and was regretting that my lack of height might be a handicap in the matrimonial stakes.