“Come with me. Perhaps we could go to France.”
“My brother would not welcome us.”
“Shame on him! His own mother and sister!”
“He is first of all King of France.”
“He has no mind of his own. Between Richelieu and that wife of his…. She gives herself airs now that she has produced the heir to the throne. Mon Dieu, she took long enough to do it.”
“Charles thinks that no hindrance would be put in the way of your going.”
“Then I shall leave as soon as possible.”
“I have thought of something. We have a new ally now in the Prince of Orange. This marriage might not have been so degrading after all. I know that Orange has little standing in Europe, but he is very rich. It may be that he will help to raise an army for us and I could bring it back to stand with the King’s. And then we could make war on these Puritan Parliamentarians and let them see who is the master here…they or their anointed King.”
“It is a good idea. I want to leave as soon as possible. I shall never sleep peacefully in my bed until I am out of this country.”
I said that I would consult Charles. “He would not want me to go,” I added. “He would hate my being out of the country.”
“Oh come,” said my mother impatiently, “you talk as though he is a passionate bridegroom and you plan your honeymoon.”
“Our being together is a long honeymoon. There is no restriction that I know of as to how long they shall last.”
My mother lifted her shoulders in exasperation. She was not the sort of woman to understand love like ours.
I left her then and when I saw Charles I told him what was in my mind. He always listened to what I had to say with as much attention—no more—than he listened to his ministers.
“Mary is too young for the consummation but the Prince of Orange is urging us to send her to Holland. Why should she not go? She will be safer there than here. I can take her…perhaps travel with my mother…and then I could say that I am going to the spa in Lower Lorraine because I am in poor health. Of course I should not go there, but be in Holland and perhaps try to see my brother. Who knows? If he were actually face to face with me he might not be able to refuse my pleas for help.”
On consideration Charles thought it a good idea.
“We should be separated in any case,” he said, “as I have to go to Scotland.”
“Scotland again!”
“I plan to placate them, to give them what they want and to enlist their help against those in England who are against me.”
I clasped my hands. Any new project filled me with hope even though, had I pondered more intently, I might have seen that it was doomed to failure before it began. But my nature was such that as long as I was feverishly putting some plot into action I could see nothing but success. Charles was a little like that too. Perhaps that was why we plunged into wild schemes without giving them due thought.
When Parliament heard that my mother was planning to leave they gave their wholehearted permission for her to go. No one could have said more clearly: Good riddance. They even helped her on her way by giving her a sum of money for the journey.
As to my leaving, they were very suspicious about that. Naturally they suspected my trip to the Continent had been arranged for a purpose other than my health. They were insulting. They gave orders that my jewels were not to be taken out of the country and they instructed Sir Theodore Mayerne to examine me and decide whether the waters of a foreign spa were necessary to preserve my health.
Old Mayerne could be one of the most irritating men I knew. Of course he was a Huguenot and not very sympathetic toward the Catholic cause. I think he looked upon me as a wayward child. He could not bring himself to say that my health would be endangered if I did not take the waters. I was annoyed with him when I heard what he had reported and the verdict was that I was not to be allowed to leave the country.
I raged at Mayerne, who surveyed me sardonically. I could not threaten to dismiss him from the royal service. He was too valuable for that and Charles would never have agreed. He admired Mayerne as the best doctor in Europe and he had often said that his frankness was symbolic of his nature. “He is incapable of dissembling,” said Charles, “and those are the sort of people we need about us, those who tell the truth for its own sake and do not suppress it out of fear or in the hope of favor.”
So I had to accept his judgment, knowing of course that it was the truth. But I stormed at him. I had suffered a great deal during the uncertainty over Strafford and I was worried every hour of the day for our future.
“I am afraid I shall go mad,” I said to Mayerne, at which he looked at me steadily.
“You need have no fear,” he replied, “for you already are.”
I could not help laughing at him. What a way for a subject to speak to his sovereign! But he did not see me as a queen. In his opinion I was an hysterical overwrought woman who was either imagining or pretending she suffered from ailments which would be cured in a foreign spa.
So with Charles in Scotland and my mother on the way to Antwerp, I went to Oatlands. There I would work out how I could get Mary to Holland and accompany her; and even if I were not allowed to leave the country it would be better for Mary to go. She would be much safer in Holland.
I was trying to find a little peace while I waited for Charles to return. If he could please the Scots, if he could get them on his side, who knew, we might put an end to this miserable Parliament. Parliaments had always caused trouble. I agreed with Charles that a king had been chosen by Divine Right to rule and surely that should be enough without parliaments interfering. They always caused trouble. Why could they not leave us in peace?
But they could not…even at Oatlands. Word was sent to me that the Prince of Wales was visiting me too frequently and that I was endeavoring to instruct him in the Catholic Faith.
My reply to that was that the King had chosen his governor and I was well aware that it was not the King’s will that any of our children should be brought up in the Catholic Faith.
That had to satisfy them, but an extraordinary thing did happen while I was at Oatlands. One day the local magistrate came to me and asked to see me in private. I saw him at once and he told me that he had received an order from Parliament to get together all the militia of the district and bring them to Oatlands by midnight. They would be met by a company of cavalry officers and would be told what was expected of them.
“I came to Your Majesty,” said the magistrate, “because I feared that it was a plot against you and I would have you know that it is my desire to serve Your Majesty with my life.”
I was always deeply moved by such expressions of loyalty and I thanked the magistrate warmly. I told him that there might well be a plot to capture me or my children…all of us perhaps. “I have many enemies, my friend,” I said. “They are those grim-faced men who think they are holier than God Himself. We have many of them in Parliament, I fear, and they plan to do me a mischief. I thank you for your warning. Now I shall be ready.”
And I was ready. The day passed quickly and I was exhilarated in spite of everything, because immediate action was demanded. I saw that everyone in the house was armed. Then we waited for nightfall and the assault.
It did not come.
I wondered why because I was sure of the integrity of the magistrate and he swore he had received the instructions he had explained.
I could only think that whoever had planned it had got wind of the loyalty of the magistrate and his men and did not want to meet opposition.
But the incident did make me feel that I ought to make plans to get away; and if they would not sanction my departure I must leave secretly.
Plotting, discarding plans, discussing the matter endlessly with Lucy who, I felt, was the only one I could really trust, planning for the horses I should need on the road to Portsmouth…all this made time pass quickly.