It was pleasant to watch; but I was impatient to put Mademoiselle’s vast fortune to good use in restoring the crown.
I dismissed everyone so that we were alone and told him that Mademoiselle was more than ready to listen to reason.
“Of course she will try to test you and suggest that you change your religion for her sake, but you must not take that too seriously.”
“I take it very seriously,” retorted Charles. “And the answer is that I have no intention of making it impossible for me to return to England as King.”
“I know. But laugh it off, Charles. Carry her off her feet. She is, I sense, a somewhat anxious young lady. The King of Spain and the Emperor have just chosen elsewhere in spite of her fortune.”
I had noticed a young woman in the company who had come from Holland with him. She was very handsome in a bold and brazen way. I had asked questions about her and had been given evasive answers, but in view of what I knew of Charles and his exploits in Jersey I began to have suspicions.
I felt a twinge of uneasiness when I heard that she had a baby—a child of two or three months.
“By the way, Charles,” I said, “who is that handsome young woman who seems to have a place among your attendants?”
“You must mean Lucy,” he said.
“And who, may I ask, is Lucy?”
“You may certainly ask, Mam,” said Charles putting on a regal air, reminding me that although I was a Dowager Queen he was the King. “Her name is Lucy Walter and she is a special friend of mine.”
“A special friend?”
“You heard aright, Mam. That is what I said.”
“Oh…and the child?”
“Mine, Mam. Mine.”
“Charles, this is….”
He lifted his shoulders and smiled at me. “He is a very amiable child.”
“Your father never behaved like this.”
“No, Mam. And I must never behave as he did.”
I felt as though he had struck me across the face. He was repentant at once for he had loved his father; but he was right, of course. Charles’s behavior had been in a great measure responsible for what had happened to him.
He said gently: “Lucy is a pleasant girl. She is devoted to me and I to her. She is a great diversion.”
“There was the Jersey girl.”
“Also a charming creature.”
“Charles, you must be more serious.”
“I assure you, Mam, no one could be more serious than I. I have one ambition and that is to regain my throne.”
“Mademoiselle must not hear of this Lucy Walter.”
He lifted his shoulders.
“Charles, do you understand this match could be of the greatest use to you. Her fortune…”
“I know her fortune is great.”
“Then Charles, you must woo her. It should not be difficult. She is the most arrogant conceited creature on Earth.”
“And this creature is to be my wife!”
“The money…it could make all the difference. Please go to see her. Flatter her. That will be necessary. Queen Anne has arranged that you shall met at Compiègne…in the château there. It is really rather romantic.”
“There is nothing so romantic as a large fortune,” said Charles cynically.
However he did agree to go to Compiègne.
It was a disaster—as I believe Charles intended it to be. He looked more distinguished than anyone in the company because he was so tall that he towered above them all. Queen Anne was there, as eager to help as ever and with her the young King of France. I was amused to see that Mademoiselle had dressed with particular care with her hair specially curled; and her blue prominent eyes were taking in every detail of Charles’s appearance.
He was distantly polite with her and it was rather a difficult meal. Queen Anne and Mademoiselle were both eager to know how everything was going in England but in spite of this being of paramount importance to him, Charles appeared to know very little, having been so long in Holland, he explained, and having to rely on hearsay. I could see that Mademoiselle was finding him rather dull and that he was growing more and more indifferent to her opinion of him. His French was not nearly as good as his brother James’s and he had to excuse himself more than once because of his paucity of the language.
When the ortolans were brought in Charles declined and took instead a piece of mutton, which deeply shocked Mademoiselle, who assumed that his tastes were crude and that he was no husband for a lady of refinement.
When the meal was over Queen Anne, always eager to help, arranged that Charles and Mademoiselle should be alone together.
What happened during that brief interview—it lasted no more than fifteen minutes—I cannot be sure, except of one thing. Charles was determined to choose his own bride and had no intention of allowing me to do it for him.
It was all very unsatisfactory. Mademoiselle was certainly very piqued; as for Charles he maintained a solemn enigmatical air and I supposed that he who knew so well how to attract women was equally well versed in the art of driving them away.
He told me afterward that he did not pay her compliments because he could think of none that fitted; but as it appeared to be expected of him—by both the Queens of England and France—he had made a formal declaration to Mademoiselle by, as he took his leave of her, saying that Henry Jermyn spoke better French than he did and would therefore be better able to explain what he wished to say to her.
Henriette was with her brother whenever she could be. I said to her: “You must remember he is the King. You must be very respectful to him.”
She only laughed and said he was her dear brother Charles and she was his Minette and she did not have to be the least bit respectful. He loved her dearly and told her so.
Naturally I was delighted to see the affection between them. Henriette was a dear child. I kept her close to me and supervised her education myself and with the help of Father Cyprien I was bringing her up in the Catholic Faith.
Lady Morton did not altogether approve of this and because I was so fond of her and would never forget how she had brought Henriette out of England to me, I was very anxious for her to have the benefit of the true Faith too. I confided this to Henriette. I said: “My darling, you love Lady Morton, do you not?”
Henriette said she did indeed.
“Then,” I said, “is it not sad that she should be left in darkness? We should try to bring her into the light with us…. It would give me the greatest happiness if our dear Lady Morton would cease to be a Protestant and become a Catholic. We must try to help her. Will you?”
“Oh I will, Mam,” said my little daughter fervently.
Some days later I asked how she was getting on with the conversion and she told me very seriously that she was trying very hard.
“What do you do?” I asked.
“Hug her and kiss her and I say to her, ‘Dear Madam, do be a Catholic. Please be a Catholic. You must be a Catholic to be saved.’”
I smiled and I learned that Lady Morton was touched but it did not change her. She implied that she was aware of our little plot and she told me with a smile that she believed Father Cyprien was in fact instructing her rather than Henriette.
Henriette soon betrayed her zeal to her brother and this was the beginning of trouble.
One could never be sure what Charles was thinking. He was not a man to lose his temper—he did not take after me in that—but gave the impression of a kind of insouciance, an indifference. At times he seemed content to dally on the Continent and I wondered whether he was making any real efforts to win back his crown. But when he was determined on something he could be very stubborn. He exasperated me sometimes because it was impossible to quarrel with him. I would rather he had flared up in anger so that I could know what he was thinking.