I felt rather sorry for the Duc de Luynes.

When he died they put his body on a bier to carry it away and so little did they reverence him that some of the servants actually played piquet on his bier while they waited for their horses to be watered and fed.

Of course his death changed everything. Louis was too weak to reign on his own. My mother came back into power and with her came Richelieu who had done so much to keep the peace between my mother’s party and that of my brother.

My mother was jubilant. She saw herself holding the reins again and ruling, with the help of Richelieu.

What she did not see was that in Richelieu, who had now become a Cardinal, she had found a man who was determined to take complete charge and guide a weak King in the way he should go.

It was a blow for my mother, but good fortune for France. But that was later, of course.

In the meantime envoys from the King of England had arrived in France and what they proposed was of the utmost importance to me.

BETROTHAL

It was a rather bleak February day. I would not be fifteen until the following November so was still very young. Mamie, who was by nature curious and particularly so about matters which concerned me, was the first to tell me about our visitor.

“My Lord Kensington has arrived,” she said, “and I have heard that he comes to France on a very special mission.”

I replied that when foreign noblemen came to Court it was usually on some special mission.

“I believe he is a great friend of the Duke of Buckingham, and as the Duke of Buckingham is the first favorite of the King of England and known to be a crony of the Prince of Wales, does that suggest anything to you?”

“That his visit might be more than just for personal pleasure.”

“The Prince of Wales is of an age to marry.”

“I believe so and it was for that purpose that he went courting in Spain. Perhaps Lord Kensington calls on us now as the Prince of Wales and Duke of Buckingham did when they were on their way to Spain.”

“The Spanish arrangement no longer exists. The Prince and Duke were not pleased with their reception in Spain.”

“You mean he is not going to marry the Infanta?”

“I do mean that. It is said that he looks elsewhere for a bride.”

I felt myself go cold suddenly, as though—as Mamie would say—someone were walking over my grave.

“Who?” I heard myself whisper.

Mamie took me by the shoulder and replied, smiling: “Who else?”

From then on my thoughts were in a turmoil. I quickly realized that Mamie’s surmise was not without foundation.

I was torn by contrasting emotions. There was pleasure…excitement…but always apprehension. He had decided against the Princess of Spain. What if he should do the same in the case of the Princess of France.

I knew there was no doubt of what was afoot when my mother sent for me.

All the way to her apartments I tried to tell myself that she wanted to see me about a masque which Anne was devising and in which I was to play a prominent part. As we had a visiting lord from England it might be that she wished us to perform something special.

But, of course, it was nothing to do with the masque.

I curtsied to my mother, who beckoned me to come closer. She laid her hands on my shoulders and said: “You have grown into a very pretty young woman, Henriette. I am glad. That will please your husband.”

I did not answer and she went on: “I have good news for you. It may well be that you will be the bride of the Prince of Wales. You understand what that means? You will, in due course, be Queen of England.”

I tried to look greatly impressed but I was only extremely nervous.

“I always wanted crowns for you children. Elizabeth has hers, and now it is your turn, my daughter…although of course it is not yet yours. I want you to do all you can to please Lord Kensington who will carry back a report to his master. You are to have a miniature painted and he will take it back with him to England. I am sure we shall get a lovely picture. Stand up straight, child. It is a pity you do not grow a few more inches.” She looked at me critically. I had always been a little self-conscious about my height for I was an inch or so shorter than most people of my age. Mamie used to say: “Little and good. You are dainty and feminine. Who wants to be a strapping hoyden?” But I could see that my mother did not agree with that and was regretting that my lack of height might be a handicap in the matrimonial stakes.

I tried to stand as tall as I could.

“That’s better,” she said. “Now when you meet Lord Kensington make sure you hold yourself erect. Talk to him confidently. Do not mention that you know about the trip to Spain. It is better to say nothing of that. But it is a stroke of luck for us that it was not successful and it leaves the Prince of Wales free for us.”

I was dismissed and went immediately to Mamie to report the conversation.

“It seems very certain that there will be an offer of marriage,” she said.

“If I go to England you are coming with me.”

“Of course I shall come with you. I’ll be the chief maid of honor. You couldn’t go without me.”

“I wouldn’t go at all…unless you came too.”

“There!” said Mamie, speaking more lightly than she felt; knowing the world far better than I she could see difficulties looming ahead, but I did not understand all this until later. “It will be interesting to be in England,” she said quickly, “if we go that is…to be among strange people. We’ll find lots to amuse us, I don’t doubt.”

She discovered that Lord Kensington was staying with the Duc and Duchesse de Chevreuse. I liked the Duchesse very much; she was very beautiful and vivacious and had a reputation for being what was called “a little naughty.”

“I’ll swear my Lord Kensington is enjoying his stay with the Duc and Duchesse,” said Mamie. “With the Duchesse in any case…so rumor has it.”

She made a point of discovering all she could about Lord Kensington, so that when I met him I should not be at a disadvantage. He was Henry Rich, the son of Penelope Rich who was the daughter of the Countess of Leicester—so his stepgrandfather was the famous Leicester who had become notorious as the favorite of Queen Elizabeth. Lord Kensington was an extraordinarily handsome man—tall, with very gracious manners, and I could see why he was a temptation to the Duchesse’s not very strict morals.

My mother presented me with a certain pride, and he took my hand and, bowing very deferentially, kissed it.

I must forgive him, he said, if he appeared dumbfounded. I might have retorted that he did not appear in the least so. But he was overwhelmed by my charms. He had heard of my beauty but no accounts could do justice to the reality.

Such fulsome flattery should, of course, have irritated me but it did not. I delighted in it and I conversed with him for fifteen minutes before my mother broke up the meeting. She was smiling benignly and I was not quite sure whether this meant that she was pleased with my performance or whether it was merely the facial expression politeness demanded. If it were not the former, I had no doubt that I should hear in due course.

At the masque I had an opportunity of speaking to the Duchesse de Chevreuse who was present with her husband and Lord Kensington. I danced with the Queen and we were very loudly applauded, but I was most eager to have a word with the Duchesse about Lord Kensington.

I said to her: “Lord Kensington seems to be a very happy guest.”

The Duchesse laughed. It seemed to me that she was constantly laughing; she had reason to be content; she was very pretty and had something beyond prettiness. I noticed how her eyes sparkled as they rested on certain gentlemen, and I was aware of the warm responses she had from them.

“Oh, Madame Henriette, I assure you he is a most contented guest.”

“Does he talk to you much of the English Court?”

“Constantly. He is devoted to Prince Charles and the Duke of Buckingham.”

“So he talks of them?”

“Most glowingly. He says that the Prince of Wales is the most cultivated and handsome gentleman he ever set eyes on.”

“Does he mention that journey to Spain?”

“Oh, that. A fiasco…nothing more. My Lord Kensington says he is grateful for it. If it had succeeded that would have been an unhappy day for the Prince.”

“Is that what he truly says?”

“Yes…now his envoys have come to France. I can tell you this: the Prince is very handsome.”

“How can you know? Did you see him when he came here as Tom Smith or was it John Brown?”

“No. But I have seen a miniature of the Prince, which Lord Kensington keeps on a ribbon about his neck. It is hidden by his coat.”

“But you have seen it!”

She laughed and put her lips to my ear. “Many times,” she whispered. “I say to my lord: ‘Let me see the picture.’ I declare he grows quite jealous. He demands to know whether I think the Prince more handsome than he is.”

“And do you?”

“Strictly for your ears…yes. Though of course the Prince is young but my Lord Kensington is a man well practiced in the ways of love.” She evidently thought she had betrayed too much for she put her hand over her lips and giggled.

I was not very interested in her affairs, but I kept thinking about the miniature which hung round Lord Kensington’s neck. I longed to look on the face of Prince Charles.

I told Mamie what the Duchesse had said and she herself asked Lord Kensington to show her the miniature. This he did readily and Mamie said that it was indeed a handsome face depicted there. She told me that he withdrew the ribbon from where it was hidden and displayed the miniature to several of the ladies who had gathered round.