Kathleen Winsor - Forever Amber

“Why—of course that’s very generous of you, madame. Only I thought—that is—Mother said—”

“Pox on your mother! I don’t care what she said! Now, does that satisfy you or no? For if it doesn’t I’ll ask his Majesty to speak to the Archbishop about an annulment.”

“An annulment! But, madame—how can you? The marriage has been consummated!”

“Who’s to say whether it has or not? And I think I have more means of bribing a jury than you! Now, what about it, Gerald? I have the paper drawn up and it’s in my chamber. Good Lord, I don’t know what more you can want! It seems to me a mighty generous offer—I don’t have to give you anything at all, you know.”

“Well—very well, then—only—”

“Only what?”

“Don’t tell Mother, will you?”

JAMES WAS LEANING on the window-sill watching some women who strolled in the sunny garden below; he gave a soft whistle and as they glanced up he waved. The women were first surprised and then they burst into giggles, beckoning him to come down and join them. He began to pantomime, shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder. And then, as a door opened behind him, he straightened instantly, composed his face, and swinging the window shut turned around.

Anne Hyde came out of her brother-in-law’s closet, her ugly mouth working with emotion, snuffing her nose and holding a wadded handkerchief against her face. The years since the Restoration had not improved her appearance. She was now thirty years old; her stomach bulged with her sixth pregnancy and she had a gross accumulation of fat, for over-eating was her comfort; red angry pustules spotted her face, and covering each was a small black patch. Anne had caught syphilis from his Royal Highness. And yet she had about her still a sort of awe-inspiring grandeur, a majesty more defiant and more proud, perhaps, than if she had been of the blood royal. She was not very much liked, but she was respected, and somewhat feared.

Everyone knew that she ruled the Duke, kept him hopelessly in debt with her extravagance, told him what to do and say in council, and that he obeyed her. Only in his amours did he preserve his independence and those went on no matter how she complained. Frequently he had the women brought to a room adjoining their chamber and left Anne’s bed to go out to them. But, for the most part, they understood and respected each other.

Slowly she shut the door. He stood and stared at her, his face questioning, while she tried to gain control of herself. Finally he spoke.

“What did he tell you?”

“What did he tell me!” she repeated bitterly, twisting at her ringed hands. “I don’t know what he told me! He listened—oh, he listened most politely. But he wouldn’t promise anything. Oh, Your Highness—what can I do!”

York shrugged, but his face was morose. “I don’t know.”

She looked up swiftly and her eyes began to glitter. “You don’t know! That’s just like you! You never know what to do no matter what happens—you won’t know what to do when you’re king! God help you if I’m not here to tell you! Listen to me—” She came across the few feet that had separated them and took hold of his coat. As she talked her fist pounded against his chest. “You’re not going to stand by like a simple fool and watch my father put out by a pack of scheming, lying jackals, d’ye hear me? You’ve got to go in there and talk to him —make him understand what they’re trying to do! After all the years my father’s given to serve the Stuarts, after his loyalty and devotion, he can’t do this! He can’t turn him out! Go in there now and talk to him—” She gave him a push.

“I’ll try,” said York, without much conviction. He went through that door and knocked at another, opening it when the King’s voice bade him enter. “I hope I’m not intruding, Sire.”

Charles looked around over his shoulder with a grin. If he knew what his brother had come for he gave no indication of it. “Not at all, James. Come in. You’re just in time to send a message to Minette. What shall I tell her for you?”

The Duke was frowning, occupied with his own thoughts, and he hesitated a moment before answering. “Why—tell her that I hope she’ll be able to pay us a visit soon.”

“That’s what I’m writing about. She hopes to come next year. Well, James—what is it? You’ve got something on your mind.”

James sat down and leaned forward in his chair, thoughtfully rubbing the flat palms of his hands together. “Yes, Sire, I have.” He paused for several moments while his brother waited. “Anne is afraid that you don’t intend to deal kindly with the Chancellor.”

Charles smiled. “Then she’s very much mistaken. I shall deal with him as kindly as I can. But you know as well as I do, James, that this isn’t my doing. I have a Parliament to answer to, and they’re in a mighty critical humour.”

“But your Majesty wouldn’t sacrifice a man who has served you so long and well merely to satisfy Parliament?” James had no very good opinion of the country’s governing body, nor of his brother’s patience and compromises with it. Things will be different, he often told himself, when I come to the throne.

“No one is more appreciative than I of the Chancellor’s service. But the truth of the matter is this: He’s outworn his usefulness, to me and to England. I know he’s blamed for much that hasn’t been his fault, but the fact remains they hate him. They want to be rid of him for good and all. What use can a man be to me once he allows himself to come to that condition?”

“It can be only a temporary condition—if your Majesty will take the trouble to help him out of it.”

“It’s more than that, James. I know he’s loyal and I know he’s able—but nevertheless he’s stuck in a morass of old-fashioned ideas. He won’t realize that the Rebellion changed things here in England. He doesn’t feel with his finger-tips that there are new ways now. What’s worse, he doesn’t want to feel it. No, James, I’m afraid the Chancellor’s day is done.”

“Done? Do you mean, Sire, that you intend putting him aside?”

“I don’t think I have an alternative. He has few enough friends to help him out now—he never took the trouble to buy himself a party of loyal supporters. He was always above such practicalities.”

“Well, then, Sire, since we’re being frank, why don’t you tell me the real reason you intend dismissing him?”

“I have.”

“A different opinion runs through the galleries. There are rumours that your Majesty can forgive him everything but influencing Mrs. Stewart in favour of Richmond.”

Charles’s black eyes snapped. “Rumour is often impertinent, James—and so are you! If you think I’m any such fool as to dismiss a man who could be useful to me because of a woman, you do my intelligence little justice! You must own I’ve been as kind to you as any king has ever been to a brother, and you live as much like a monarch as I do! But in this matter I’m determined. You can’t change my mind, so pray trouble me about it no more.”

James bowed courteously and left the room. Kings, he had always believed, were meant to be obeyed—but the courtiers nevertheless noticed and commented upon a certain coolness between the two brothers.

It was not many days after that that the King summoned Clarendon to meet him at Whitehall, even though the old man had been sick in bed and was living at his house in Piccadilly where Charles and the council often met to save him the journey to the Palace. Charles and the Duke of York went to the Chancellor in his official apartments and there the three of them sat down to talk.

Charles hated this moment, and he might have put it off much longer but that he knew it was necessary. For unrest seethed through all the country and had come to a focus in Parliament; he hoped to lull it again with the promise that all things would be better once the national bogey-man was disposed of. Yet he had known him long and been served by him faithfully. And for all that Clarendon often treated him as though he were an unruly schoolboy, criticizing his friends and his mistresses, telling him that he was not fit to govern, Charles knew that he was the best minister he had had, or was likely to have. Once Clarendon was gone he would be left surrounded by crafty and hostile and selfish men against whose cleverness he must pit his own wits and win—or rule England no longer.

But there was no help for it. Charles looked him straight in the eye. “My lord, as you must be aware there is a general demand for new men in the government. I’m sorry to say this to you, but I shall not be able to hold out against them. They will want you to resign and I think you would serve your own turn best by anticipating them.”

It was a moment before Clarendon answered. “Your Majesty can’t be in earnest?”

“I am, Chancellor. I’m sorry, but I am. As you must know, I’ve not made this decision suddenly—and I’ve not made it alone.” He meant, obviously, that hundreds and thousands of Englishmen were of the same opinion.

But Clarendon chose to misinterpret. “Your Majesty refers, perhaps, to the Lady?” He had never once called Barbara by any other name.

“Truthfully, Chancellor, I do not.” Charles answered softly, refusing to take offense.

“I fear your Majesty’s unworthy companions have had more influence than you are yourself aware.”

“Ods-fish, my lord!” replied Charles with sudden impatience, his eyes flashing. “I hope I’m not wholly deficient in mental capacity!”

Clarendon was once more the school-master. “No one appreciates better than I, Sire, what your natural parts are—and it is for that reason I have long grieved to watch your Majesty losing your time and England’s in the company of such creatures as the Lady and her—”