“I am so delighted,” Anne was saying, “and he is so much in love.”
It was hard to imagine Philippe’s being in love with anyone but himself, although he might spare some affection for that close friend of his, the Comte de Guiche, a young and extremely handsome nobleman, who had been married at a very early age to the heiress of the House of Sully though he had never shown much interest in his bride, except with regard to her fortune, and was delighted to be Philippe’s close friend.
However he was the brother of the King—next in line to the throne at the moment, and Henriette had known him for most of her life. When she married she would not have to go away. I should not lose her. To say the least I was delighted with the prospect.
Anne knew I should be and rejoiced with me.
“Louis has given his consent to the match and the Cardinal is in favor of it.”
Of course he would be, the old fox, I thought. Close ties with Spain through Louis’s marriage and with England through that of Henriette and Philippe.
It was what I wanted though, what I had angled for, and I had learned most bitterly through the latter part of my life that if you cannot get your heart’s desire you must settle for the next best thing.
There was another reason for my pleasure. I knew the Grande Mademoiselle had wanted Philippe when Louis was out of her reach, so this was a blow for her. I really did believe she was never going to get a husband and I could not wait to see her face when she heard that Philippe and Henriette were betrothed.
Henriette was less enthusiastic about the proposed marriage. It was often difficult to know what my daughter was thinking. She looked rather sad and said: “Does Philippe really want to marry…and to marry me?”
“Of course he wants to marry. It is his duty. Why, if his brother died tomorrow he could be King of France.”
“Dear Mam, you should not say such things.”
“So even you are telling me now what I should say and what I should not say. I begin to believe that I have brought a family of tutors into the world.”
She kissed me and said she knew how I had always loved and cared for my family and if I wished it and Philippe wished it she supposed she must marry him.
“My dear daughter,” I cried, “you do not sound very appreciative of the second best match in France.”
“I think I would have chosen not to marry for a while. I have a great fancy to go to England and to be near Charles.”
“Charles is the King and it is right that you should love and admire him, but he is only your brother, remember. You have your own life to lead.”
“But we are going to England.”
“We are. As soon as I have made sure that the betrothal is firm, we shall visit your brother and then we shall come back for the wedding…your wedding, my dear child. I shall see my son on his throne and my best-loved child married. I really begin to see a great deal of brightness in the sky. It has been so dark…so very dark…for such a long time.”
Enjoyable weeks followed. I reveled in the preparations and tried not to think of the sea voyage which I always loathed. But it would be worthwhile this time. I had had the pleasure of a little conversation with Mademoiselle who was beside herself with jealousy of Henriette. She called on me and I was sure there was a purpose in this for in view of the betrothal I should have thought she would have wanted to keep out of the way.
“You have come to congratulate me,” I said slyly, knowing it was the last thing she would come to do.
“You must be very pleased that your plans have at last borne fruit,” she said.
“Plans!” I said opening my eyes very wide. “I had no plans. I can tell you, niece, I was amazed when the Queen told me that Philippe had declared his love for Henriette and had stated that he would have no other for his wife.”
“It must have been a surprise,” she said. “One would not have thought Philippe had time to consider such matters, he being so preoccupied with his dear friend de Guiche.”
“Oh, he has had his eyes on Henriette for a long time. The dear child is overjoyed. I wish I could let you know how delightful it is to be loved by such a man.”
There was a slightly strained look on her face. “I hear you are planning to visit London.”
“That is our intention. Then we shall return and the wedding will take place.”
“How fares the King of England?”
“Well…well indeed.”
“I daresay he remembers his days here in Paris…and some of his old friends. It is a pity to let old friends disappear. I should like to see the King again.”
I smiled to myself. So that is it, is it? No Louis. No Philippe. Let’s try Charles.
Oh no, my dear Mademoiselle. It is too late now. Then he was an exiled Prince. You declined him. Now he is the King of England—and the most desirable bachelor in Europe. Poor Mademoiselle, you have failed again. Too late. You should have taken a chance.
She looked so forlorn and so clearly aging that I felt almost sorry for her. But she was not for Charles now—in spite of all her money.
A visit to London in the present circumstances should have been pure delight; but life never worked out quite like that for me.
As we were on the point of departure news came from England which completely stunned me. I read the dispatch through and could not believe it. I read it again and again. There was no mistake. This terrible thing had happened.
Henriette came in and found me almost dazed by the shock.
She sat beside me and took my hand. I snatched it away. My fury was so great that it would be restrained no longer.
“I cannot believe it,” I cried. “I simply cannot believe it.”
“Charles…” she murmured turning pale.
“Charles!” I spat out. “He has given his consent to this folly. Are they all mad?”
She begged me to tell her what had happened and I cried out: “It is your brother James. He has married that scheming harlot, Anne Hyde. That rogue, her father, has planned this, you can be sure. Without my consent…without the King’s consent…he married her in secret.”
“He must love her dearly,” said Henriette a little wistfully.
I could have struck her—yes, even my best-loved child.
“Love!” I cried. “She has trapped him. I saw it from the first. Mary should never have taken her into her Court. She should never have brought her to Paris in the first place. This is disaster. My son James…married to that woman…and just in time it seems that her bastard may be born in wedlock.”
“James would want his own child to be born in wedlock, Mam.”
“She wanted it. A child. It has gone as far as that. If only I had been there. Charles should have stopped it.”
“But they did it in secret.”
“And your brother Charles is actually receiving the woman at his Court.”
“It is because she is James’s wife, Mam.”
“James’s harlot! Thank God we shall soon be in England. I may be able to put a stop to all this. We might get the marriage annulled. And Charles…allowing it all, shrugging his shoulders and telling them to go their merry ways…. He will lose his crown if he is not careful.”
Henriette was fierce as always when anything derogatory was said about Charles. “I think his kindness and good humor will help him to keep it, Mam.”
I could have shaken her. Was she suggesting that her father lost his crown because he was not like her brother? I turned away from her and she said pleadingly: “Mam, we must be kind to James’s wife.”
I retorted stonily: “James has no wife as far as I am concerned.”
She was silent for some time and then she said, perhaps thinking to turn me away from my rage, “And there is Henry.”