“You are referring to my son James, the Duke of York. I meant the King.”

“Oh yes…of course. He will be King now…if he can regain his throne.”

“There is no doubt that he will do that,” I said sharply.

“I am glad to hear it.”

Her eyes were speculative. She could not deceive me, this sly Grande Mademoiselle. She had suffered two disappointments. The King of Spain had married his niece, so poor Mademoiselle was not to be Queen of Spain. The Emperor of Austria had chosen one of his cousins. Mademoiselle’s nose was decidedly out of joint. It might well be that she would not be quite so supercilious now regarding her cousin Charles. It was true he had yet to regain his throne but having seen those of Spain and Austria slip out of her grasp, the ambitious creature might be feeling she could not be too selective. Moreover she must be about twenty-two years old—quite mature for a marriageable princess. She had been considering herself the most delectable marriage prospect for a very long time. Was she beginning to doubt?

“When will he be in Paris?” She was clearly trying to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

“Very soon, I promise you.”

“You mean you promise yourself, dear aunt, not me.”

Oh, she was an insolent creature! If it had not been for her money I would not have received her, let alone considered her as a daughter-in-law.

Charles did not immediately respond to my summons. First he made excuses and then he merely said he was not yet ready.

I was getting frantic and I suggested to Henry Jermyn that he approach Mademoiselle and make an offer on Charles’s behalf for her hand.

Henry was a little reluctant and wondered if it were wise but I insisted. I had to keep events moving for while something was going on, it was balm to my wounds. Only while I was absorbed in some project could I forget that Charles was dead.

Henry came back in some dismay, and reported what had happened.

“I told her that when he had seen her Charles had been so overcome by admiration that he had become speechless. Mademoiselle has a sharp tongue. She retorted: ‘Oh, I thought that was due to his ignorance of the French language. He did not converse at all. In my opinion the inability to converse detracts from a personality more than anything else.’”

“She can be a most unpleasant creature.”

“She has always had a high opinion of herself.”

“I thought that she might have been a little more humble after the snubs she received from Spain and Austria.”

“There had been no commitments for the King of Spain or the Emperor of Austria to enter an alliance with her,” Henry reminded me.

“No, but it was an understood possibility. Go on.”

“Then she said that she would prefer to discuss the matter with Charles himself and could not commit herself to a go-between. She added that since Charles was so much in love with her he would doubtless change his religion. If he did that she would be assured of his devotion and then would begin to consider the matter.”

“The minx! She knows that if he changed his religion he would have no chance of regaining his throne.”

“Dear Madam, I fear there is nothing we can do but await the arrival of the King.”

It was summer before Charles arrived in Paris. I thought he looked very impressive with his tall figure and ugly good-natured face, his musical voice and his kingly bearing. There was a certain aloofness in his manner toward me. I realized later that it was his way of telling me that he was going to decide his own affairs for himself. My little Henriette was beside herself with joy and it gave me great pleasure to see the affection between those two. She leaped into his arms and clasped hers about his neck. She was his little Minette and he was more than an adored brother; in her eyes he was a god.

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.