I decided I would leave Oatlands for Hampton Court for word had come to me that Charles was on his way home. At Hampton I could meet some of the most influential men in the country and I hoped to persuade them to stand with the King.
It was wonderful when Charles arrived at Hampton. We clung together for a long time as though we would never let each other go. The children were there too and they had their share of affection. But for Charles I was the one who meant most to him and so it was with him in my affections.
We talked and talked. The trip to Scotland had not been a success but that did not seem to matter as long as we were together again.
Quite a number of people came to Hampton to welcome the King and it was like old times and, ever ready to hope, I told myself all was going to be well again.
We were going to make a triumphant return to Whitehall. Some of our friends told us that there would be a civic welcome for us. The people were delighted because my mother had gone and that was a great source of irritation removed; the Papal envoy had left; the King had returned from Scotland without that army of Scotsmen which it was feared he might bring with him.
“Our troubles are over,” said the hopeful ones; and of course I was ready to believe them.
And then this unfortunate thing happened. We were all standing at a window looking out—the King, the children, myself and one or two of our friends—when a gypsy came up and asked for money. She had a basket on her arm; she was bent and deformed and such a strange sight that some of our party began to laugh at her.
There was a general titter. I did not like it because I never laughed at people’s deformities. I had my dwarfs, it was true, but I always treated them with the respect due to normal human beings. It was not their stunted growth which appealed to me but that I saw a certain beauty in them and they were such good servants. I was not one who laughed at the gypsy.
She looked up at us and her face was malevolent, evil. I drew back for I saw that her eyes were fixed on the King and myself as well as our children.
She took out a hand mirror from her basket and handed it to the King.
“I don’t want it,” he said.
“Look into it,” she commanded, “and see what you can see.”
The King looked at it and I who was close, looked too. I gave a little shriek. The King had turned pale. Others crowded round and looked into the mirror but they could only see their own faces and that was all I could see now, but just for a few seconds I had seen something else…and so had the King.
The mirror had shown us the King’s head…without his body.
I was almost fainting. The King had put an arm about me and I heard the cackle of the gypsy.
“Did you like what you saw, my lord, my lady? You should give me money. You should always treat the gypsies well or they might show you what it is better for you not to see.”
“Give the woman money,” said the King.
It was thrown down to her. She picked it up and put it in her basket. She took the mirror which had been given back to her. She said: “In that room in which you stand another will be sleeping. He has a dog with him. That dog will die…and when he dies the kingdom will come back to the King.”
With that she hobbled away leaving the company twittering with excitement and myself almost fainting in my husband’s arms.
He said I needed to rest and he took me to our apartment in the palace.
“It was terrible,” I gasped.
“It was an illusion,” he replied. “How could something which was not there be seen in the mirror?”
“We both saw it,” I reminded him.
“It could not have been so,” he replied.
Then he tried to comfort me with the good news that the people of London were giving us a welcome.
“They have changed toward us,” he said. “Those who were shrieking outside the palace are now going to receive us with affection.”
“Can we trust those who change so quickly?”
“They had what they wanted. Strafford dead…and your mother gone. They will love us again, you will see.”
“I do not trust such fickle love,” I said.
Then he held me fast and thanked God that we were together again.
The weather was cold but there was a new warmth in my heart as we rode side by side into Moorgate where the Mayor and aldermen were waiting to greet us. We were presented with two richly caparisoned horses and a golden coach. The Mayor told us that the horses were for the King and the Prince of Wales and the coach for me and the younger children.
Charles was so delighted that he knighted the Mayor and the Recorder on the spot and when this pleasant ceremony was over, the merchants of the city crowded round to kiss the King’s hand.
My two Charleses mounted the horses which had been presented to them and with the children I stepped into the coach and we drove down to the Guildhall.
I had not been so happy for a long time as I was when I rode through those streets under the fluttering banners and the strips of cloth of gold which they had put up to welcome us.
My husband and son looked so noble on their magnificent horses. I wondered how any could turn against them for the sake of those ugly roundheaded creatures with their black clothes and miserable faces.
There was a sumptuous banquet for us at the Guildhall and the city dignitaries had brought out the gold plate which they only did on the most important occasions.
What a welcome! It showed the mood of the people. We had only had to sacrifice Strafford—which I knew still worried Charles—and get rid of my mother, who had been one of the main causes of our unpopularity. It was a pity that she had ever come. Well, she had gone now. She would be in Antwerp. I hoped she was not making trouble there.
All was going to be well. We must be strong. We must stand firm. I would talk to Charles about that. Dear good man that he was, he was too lenient, too ready to believe the best of everyone.
At last we arrived at Whitehall, tired but jubilant.
All was going to be well in the end.
I talked to Charles that night when we were alone. He had ideas. He was going to dismiss the guards which the Parliament had set up in Westminster to look after the Houses of Parliament.
“Their guards will go,” he said. “Mine will be there. I know you think I give way too easily, but I have not been idle. There are men loyal to me in the kingdom and they have their own trained bands. They shall guard the Houses of Parliament.”
I clasped my hands in pleasure. “That is excellent,” I said.
“Of course,” went on Charles, “they won’t like it. Men like Pym will have their suspicions.”
“Let them,” I cried. “We’ll make sure that our guards are loyal.”
“I wish that I could arrest certain members of the Parliament. They should be impeached for their disloyalty to the crown.”
“Why not?” I asked excitedly.
“I am unsure,” he answered.
“Which would you arrest? Pym for sure, I would say.”
“Certainly Pym; Hampden is another. Then there are Holles, Strode, Haselrig…. They are the ones I most distrust. If we could berid of them we might make some headway in Parliament.”
“You must arrest them.”
“I will think of it.”
“Soon,” I whispered.
Then he lifted me in his arms and said it was time we went to bed.
I could not sleep much. I was thinking of the wonderful reception which the city of London had given us. It was often said that if London was with you, the whole country would be.
It was changing. Perhaps the panic had been unnecessary and we had feared too much, become too nervous, let ourselves be led by fear.