“You mean he has told Buckingham to inform you of this?” I could feel my temper rising.
“Now you must calm yourself. He says that you disappoint the King in the bedchamber.”
I felt myself go hot with shame and anger.
“How dare he!”
“He says it is what the King has confided in him. He says you seem affable enough during the day but at night you become distinctly cold, and that does not please the King.”
“It is for the King to make me affectionate toward him. I shall tell him he will not do so through his ambassador Buckingham.”
“I pray you be calm. Let us think of this clearly. How…how is it with you and the King?”
I burst out: “I should have thought that was a matter between the King and me…and us two only.”
“It is. It is. But you see the King has spoken to Buckingham.”
“Mamie,” I said, “do you really think the King has spoken to Buckingham…or is it one of the Duke’s fabrications?”
She was thoughtful. Then she said: “If you tell me that all is well between you and the King…at night….”
“As far as I know. I submit…though I do not like it very much.”
“Perhaps that is not enough.”
“But to tell Buckingham….”
“If he did,” put in Mamie.
“Mamie, I know that the King and I will never be happy together while Buckingham is here. I am certain that he is going to do everything he can to drive us apart.”
“And if there were no Buckingham…do you think that you could grow to love the King?”
“I don’t know. Life seemed so much happier when Buckingham was not here.”
“You are not dissatisfied with your new bedchamber ladies?”
“No. I like them very much. Particularly Lucy.”
“We must not allow Buckingham to influence the King.”
“How shall we stop him?”
“I don’t know but we can pray for a miracle.”
I was deeply disturbed that the King had spoken of our most intimate relationship with the Duke. But had he? I could not be really sure of this and for once I did not jump to conclusions. But I was more and more wary of Buckingham and I was beginning to believe that but for him we might have avoided quite a number of the storms which had blown up and were threatening to wreck our marriage.
That last affair was, I was sure, a result of his interference.
His determination to harm me was becoming even more obvious. One day he dared ask for a private audience with me. Reluctantly I gave it and immediately wished I had not. He was an extremely handsome man—indeed he owed his rise to power to his personal appearance—and his confidence gave him an air of royalty. I was sure he thought himself of far greater importance than anyone at Court—even the King himself.
He quickly threw off the formalities and began to talk to me very intimately in a manner which infuriated me more and more every second.
“I know, my dear lady, that the relationship between you and the King is not quite what it should be. Oh, you are beautiful, there is no doubt of that…and you are regal being the daughter of a king, but you are young…so very young….”
“I grow older every day, sir,” I told him with some asperity, “and my vision grows clearer.”
He laughed rather heartily.
“Dearest lady, you are enchanting. I know where the complaint lies.”
“Complaint, sir. Of what complaint do you speak?”
“You are so fresh, so young, so innocent. Naturally, I tell the King you need to be guided in the ways of love.”
I was too astonished to speak.
“Love!” he said. “Ah, one needs to be skilled in the art to discover its full delights. Perhaps the King is more practiced in the realms of state than in the bedchamber. Perhaps…”
He had moved nearer to me and there was no mistaking the gleam in his eyes. Was this, I wondered, how he had approached my sister-in-law? What was he suggesting? That I learn how to be what he called “satisfactory” with Charles through Buckingham?
It was monstrous. What would Charles think of this subject of his if I told him what Buckingham had suggested to me…well, not so much suggested as implied.
“My Lord Buckingham,” I cried shrilly, “stand away from me. Your conduct is atrocious. I wonder what the King will say when I tell him what you have suggested to me.”
He stood back, his eyebrows raised, his face a mask of bewilderment. “My lady, I do not understand you. Suggested? What do you think I have suggested?”
“Your remarks about matters which are completely between the King and myself are offensive.”
“Forgive me…I just thought a little word—That was all that was in my mind. I swear it. What could you have imagined? You must realize that I have no idea why you should be so offended.”
The man was a monster, a snake in the grass and I must beware of his venom.
“I merely wished to talk to you about your attitude to the faith which prevails in this country. I merely wanted to advise you. The matter of the Countess of Denbigh’s service at Tichfield….”
“That is long ago. The Countess bears no rancor and has now become my friend.”
“I am happy about that as it brings me to another matter which I know gives the King a great deal of concern. He wants you to send your French attendants back to France.”
“That is something I shall never do.”
“You would find many English ladies who would be happy to replace them.”
“I am very happy as we are. Thank you for your concern. But it is my affair as to whom I shall choose to serve me.”
“I trust that you speak a little English now that you have three English ladies of the bedchamber.”
“I do, but there again I do not see that it is any great concern of yours.”
“I speak only for your own good. My great wish is to please you.”
“Then,” I said firmly, “I will tell you how you may give me the greatest pleasure. It is very simple. All you have to do is go.”
With that he went, leaving me very uneasy.
I should have realized that we were working toward a climax, but my trouble in those days was that I never looked beyond the immediate moment. If I scored a little victory I thought I had won the war—though why there should be a war between husband and wife I cannot now see.
It was June and we were at Whitehall. The afternoon was warm and beautiful—just the day for taking a walk in the park near the palace. Father Sancy walked with me and he was admonishing me for some petty demeanor. I was not listening to him but thinking how beautiful the trees were and what a lovely day it was. Mamie was walking on the other side of me when we strayed away from the park. We came to the gallows at Tyburn, which had always filled me with horror because so many people had died miserably there—some, I knew, for their Faith. It was not long ago when those good Catholics who had set out to blow up the Houses of Parliament had died most brutally. All they had wished to do was establish the Catholic Faith in this heretic land, which was what I wanted to do.
I mentioned this. Mamie frowned. She hated me to speak in this way. She was a good Catholic, of course, but she was more ready to respect the beliefs of others than I was. Father Sancy grew rather fierce talking of the people who had died for their faith at Tyburn and suggested that we approach and say a short prayer for their souls.
So I agreed and we did so.
I suppose nothing a queen does can go unnoticed. Of course I was seen and as I appeared to have enemies everywhere, the incident was embellished and distorted out of all proportion to what had actually taken place. Stories were circulated about the Court and the city. I heard that I had done penance at Tyburn; I had walked barefoot carrying a candle. I had set up an altar there; I had said Mass; I had prayed to the Virgin and the saints for the souls of those I called Martyrs and whom the English called criminals.