I was happy. I had learned to speak English now, and although I should never be exactly fluent in the language I could converse adequately. It pleased Charles so much and I was always happy pleasing him.

We rarely ever quarreled nowadays. Occasionally my temper would burst out and he would shake his finger at me but there would always be a smile and I would cry out: “Oh, you can’t expect me to change all at once. My temper has been with me from the cradle. I doubt it will ever leave me altogether.”

He said that he really liked me the way I was, which was very comforting and true lovers’ talk.

The only trouble between us was, of course, my religion. I often thought that if I could convert Charles to the Catholic Faith and with him the whole of England, I should be completely happy.

But that was asking too much, and even I was wise enough to realize that I had a great deal.

And now…my child was to be born.

I kept reminding Charles of Lady Davys’s prophecy and although he pretended to be skeptical, because it was a happy one, he was not really so.

I knew I had a great many enemies in the country. Some people even refused to rejoice at the prospect of an heir to the throne. They called me an idolatress—some even had the temerity to shout after me when I rode out. It was rather disconcerting, but I had always known that it might be necessary to suffer for the Faith. But there were plenty of people to rejoice in the birth and there were prayers all the time for my safe delivery and that the child should be a boy.

Well, we were not disappointed, for on the morning of May the twenty-ninth in that year 1630 I was brought to bed in the Palace of St. James’s and within a comparatively short time my son made his appearance. This time he was strong, lusty and clearly healthy—just as Lady Davys had said he would be.

I shall never forget the moment when they laid him in my arms. He was the ugliest child I ever saw. He was big and very dark and looked much older than one day.

“Why,” I said, “he is a little monster.”

Charles came in and looked at him. He said: “He is a perfect child. The doctors say he is in excellent health.”

“He is so dark…almost like a blackamoor.”

“Babies get lighter as they grow.”

“But,” I said, “you are handsome. I am not considered ill-looking. Why should we get the ugliest baby in the world?”

But we were not really concerned with his ugliness. He had arrived and he was by no means sickly. Doubtless he would grow prettier with age.

The King was most excited. He held the baby and marveled at him. “Perfect in every way,” he kept saying. Everything which ought to be there was there; he made his presence felt with lusty yells and showed from the first his determination to survive.

We were all delighted with him—better a strong ugly child than a frail pretty one.

On the very morning of the child’s birth Charles rode to St. Paul’s Cathedral to give thanks for the birth of his son and heir. The people cheered wildly; they liked him far better than they did me.

According to the custom my baby was baptized within a few days of his birth. I knew there would be some controversy about this because of the difference in the King’s religion and mine. I had been promised that I should supervise the religious upbringing of my children until their thirteenth year and that meant of course that I could educate them as Catholics.

However, I did see that the ceremony could not take place in my private chapel because it was fitted as a Catholic sanctuary. The King said firmly that the baby must be baptized in the chapel of St. James’s and I was too tired and too happy to argue.

The Bishop of London, William Laud, conducted the service with the help of the Bishop of Norwich and the sponsors were my brother, the King of France, and my mother; they could not, of course, be present, and the Duchess of Richmond and the Marquis of Hamilton were their proxies.

My baby went through the ceremony without too much protest and was christened Charles.

The next thing we had to concern ourselves with was his wet nurse. She must be from Wales, Charles told me, for it was a tradition that the first words the Prince of Wales spoke must be in the Welsh language. After that he could speak his own tongue.

How I enjoyed those days. Sometimes I try to live them again through my memories. It was such a joy to have a child and a devoted husband. Charles could scarcely tear himself away from us. He tried to please me in every way and I was very happy to accept his attention and feel proud of myself because I had given my husband and the country this ugly boy.

Young Charles grew apace but his looks did not improve. His wet nurse said he was the liveliest and hungriest child she had ever known and was going to be tall; he was already big for his age. He was so forward and was more like a three-month-old child than one of a few weeks. I used to look at him in his cradle and he would return my gaze steadily. His nose was too big for a baby, I thought; but his lively eyes were darting here, there and everywhere.

“You are going to be a remarkable man,” I said to him; and he looked at me so intelligently that I could delude myself into thinking that he understood.

I had to write and tell Mamie all about him. She had a child of her own so she would fully understand the pleasures of motherhood. Writing to her was like talking to her and our letters had been a great solace to me since she left.

“Mamie,” I wrote.

“The husband of my baby’s nurse is going to France and I am writing this letter believing that you will be very glad to ask him news of my son…. He is so ugly that I am ashamed of him, but his size and fatness supply the want of beauty. I wish you could see the gentleman, for he has no ordinary mien; he is so serious in all that he does, that I cannot help deeming him far wiser than I am myself….

“I assure you that if I do not write to you as often as I might it is not because I have left off loving you but because—I must confess it—I am very idle. Also I am ashamed to admit that I am on the increase again; nevertheless I am not yet certain.

“Adieu. The man must have this letter.

“Your affectionate friend,

“Henriette Marie R.”

Yes, I was indeed pregnant again. I was not displeased about this as my wise little Charles had made me long for another child.

The King was delighted too. It was well for us to have several children, for although little Charles already looked as though he would be able to give a good account of himself, with plagues and other troubles one could never be sure.

Kings and Queens should have large families. Well, it seemed as if, now I had started, I might live up to what was expected of me.

Being a mother and a contented wife did not change my nature. I still loved to dance and although being pregnant did restrict me in many ways I did enjoy entertainments, ballets and banquets. I was very fond of dwarfs. The little people fascinated me and I was delighted when the two I possessed decided to marry. I declared we should have a celebration for them, which we did, and I took great pleasure in arranging the wedding. I had a masque written for it, a musical entertainment. Our great poet Edmund Waller wrote lyrics for it which were set to music. I sang some of the songs but not those, naturally, which were written in praise of my beauty. There were many of those sung at Court and I was vain enough to enjoy them.

How the dwarfs amused us as they tumbled about the room and when they danced on the table, I thought I should laugh so much that it would be bad for the child I was carrying.

Charles and I made a short journey soon after that and were entertained at the house of the old Countess of Buckingham. It was amazing how, since the death of the Duke, I had become quite fond of his family.

This was an occasion I shall always remember. I was seated beside the King in the place of honor and dinner proceeded in the usual manner with the musicians playing all the time, for the Countess knew how much I enjoyed music.

During a short pause in the playing a great pie was carried in and placed in the center of the table. All eyes were on it as slowly the pastry began to crack from within, until there was a great hole in it and it was scattered over the table. Then out of the enormous dish there stepped a man. He was eighteen inches high, beautifully dressed in miniature garments and with a face which was quite handsome. He advanced along the table taking mincing steps between the dishes. When he came to me he bowed low and said in a very pleasant voice that he trusted I liked him well enough to appoint him my devoted servant.

Everyone was laughing and clapping. Even the King was smiling benignly. I think they were all aware of what was going to happen. For me, of course, it was to be a surprise.

I begged the little man to come and stand beside me. He did so, delicately brushing scraps of pastry from his elegant coat. I said I should be delighted to take him into my service for I liked well his looks and, as he would have heard, two of my little people had married. Oh, they were still in my service but married people were apt to be more devoted to each other than those they served.

He nodded knowingly and said he would dedicate himself completely to his Queen.

I kept him by me and thanked the Countess for giving me so much pleasure.

My little man told me his name was Geoffrey Hudson and that it had long been his ambition to serve me.

So he came into my service. He was extremely intelligent and capable of performing all sorts of errands for he was quite a little statesman; and I became very fond of him and was so pleased that he had come to serve me.