I tried to stand as tall as I could.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now when you meet Lord Kensington make sure you hold yourself erect. Talk to him confidently. Do not mention that you know about the trip to Spain. It is better to say nothing of that. But it is a stroke of luck for us that it was not successful and it leaves the Prince of Wales free for us.”
I was dismissed and went immediately to Mamie to report the conversation.
“It seems very certain that there will be an offer of marriage,” she said.
“If I go to England you are coming with me.”
“Of course I shall come with you. I’ll be the chief maid of honor. You couldn’t go without me.”
“I wouldn’t go at all…unless you came too.”
“There!” said Mamie, speaking more lightly than she felt; knowing the world far better than I she could see difficulties looming ahead, but I did not understand all this until later. “It will be interesting to be in England,” she said quickly, “if we go that is…to be among strange people. We’ll find lots to amuse us, I don’t doubt.”
She discovered that Lord Kensington was staying with the Duc and Duchesse de Chevreuse. I liked the Duchesse very much; she was very beautiful and vivacious and had a reputation for being what was called “a little naughty.”
“I’ll swear my Lord Kensington is enjoying his stay with the Duc and Duchesse,” said Mamie. “With the Duchesse in any case…so rumor has it.”
She made a point of discovering all she could about Lord Kensington, so that when I met him I should not be at a disadvantage. He was Henry Rich, the son of Penelope Rich who was the daughter of the Countess of Leicester—so his stepgrandfather was the famous Leicester who had become notorious as the favorite of Queen Elizabeth. Lord Kensington was an extraordinarily handsome man—tall, with very gracious manners, and I could see why he was a temptation to the Duchesse’s not very strict morals.
My mother presented me with a certain pride, and he took my hand and, bowing very deferentially, kissed it.
I must forgive him, he said, if he appeared dumbfounded. I might have retorted that he did not appear in the least so. But he was overwhelmed by my charms. He had heard of my beauty but no accounts could do justice to the reality.
Such fulsome flattery should, of course, have irritated me but it did not. I delighted in it and I conversed with him for fifteen minutes before my mother broke up the meeting. She was smiling benignly and I was not quite sure whether this meant that she was pleased with my performance or whether it was merely the facial expression politeness demanded. If it were not the former, I had no doubt that I should hear in due course.
At the masque I had an opportunity of speaking to the Duchesse de Chevreuse who was present with her husband and Lord Kensington. I danced with the Queen and we were very loudly applauded, but I was most eager to have a word with the Duchesse about Lord Kensington.
I said to her: “Lord Kensington seems to be a very happy guest.”
The Duchesse laughed. It seemed to me that she was constantly laughing; she had reason to be content; she was very pretty and had something beyond prettiness. I noticed how her eyes sparkled as they rested on certain gentlemen, and I was aware of the warm responses she had from them.
“Oh, Madame Henriette, I assure you he is a most contented guest.”
“Does he talk to you much of the English Court?”
“Constantly. He is devoted to Prince Charles and the Duke of Buckingham.”
“So he talks of them?”
“Most glowingly. He says that the Prince of Wales is the most cultivated and handsome gentleman he ever set eyes on.”
“Does he mention that journey to Spain?”
“Oh, that. A fiasco…nothing more. My Lord Kensington says he is grateful for it. If it had succeeded that would have been an unhappy day for the Prince.”
“Is that what he truly says?”
“Yes…now his envoys have come to France. I can tell you this: the Prince is very handsome.”
“How can you know? Did you see him when he came here as Tom Smith or was it John Brown?”
“No. But I have seen a miniature of the Prince, which Lord Kensington keeps on a ribbon about his neck. It is hidden by his coat.”
“But you have seen it!”
She laughed and put her lips to my ear. “Many times,” she whispered. “I say to my lord: ‘Let me see the picture.’ I declare he grows quite jealous. He demands to know whether I think the Prince more handsome than he is.”
“And do you?”
“Strictly for your ears…yes. Though of course the Prince is young but my Lord Kensington is a man well practiced in the ways of love.” She evidently thought she had betrayed too much for she put her hand over her lips and giggled.
I was not very interested in her affairs, but I kept thinking about the miniature which hung round Lord Kensington’s neck. I longed to look on the face of Prince Charles.
I told Mamie what the Duchesse had said and she herself asked Lord Kensington to show her the miniature. This he did readily and Mamie said that it was indeed a handsome face depicted there. She told me that he withdrew the ribbon from where it was hidden and displayed the miniature to several of the ladies who had gathered round.
“It seems,” I said coldly, “that everyone has seen this picture except me.”
“I think,” replied Mamie, “it would be considered unseemly if you showed a great interest in the picture at this stage.”
“Yet how I long to see it. I think I should be the one to see it first.”
“As soon as there has been agreement between the English ambassadors and your mother, you can ask to see it. But I think you can hardly show a great interest before that.”
I grew angry to think that all my ladies knew what he looked like and that I did not, so I decided to act. When I next saw the Duchesse de Chevreuse, I asked her if she could procure the portrait at the right moment…and bring it to me.
The Duchesse, who loved intrigue, swore she would do it. “The very next time he takes it off,” she said, “which he does…” she smiled at me, “on occasions….”
Within a day or so the portrait was in my hands.
My fingers trembled as I opened it for it was in a gold locket. And there he was! My heart leaped as I looked at it. He was handsome, yes, but there was a fineness—a refinement—about his features…something almost ethereal, which I found enchanting.
I could not stop looking at it, and I held it in my hands for the best part of an hour until I knew every part of that handsome face, and the more I looked the happier I felt.
When I gave the picture back to the Duchesse I thanked her for her help. She said that Lord Kensington had missed the locket and she had told him where it was.
“It did not seem to disturb him in the least. In fact I think he was very happy about the matter. He assured me that the Prince of Wales is even more handsome than his portrait.”
Matters were progressing very fast and Lord Kensington asked my mother if she would permit him to have a private interview with me.
After some hesitation she allowed this and I spent a pleasant half hour in the company of the man who, everyone was saying, was not only the English envoy but the lover of Madame de Chevreuse.