I did get a chance to talk to her. I thought she was looking older and she had never been a beauty. No one would have thought of marrying her if it were not for her fortune; and after so many proposed marriages which had come to nothing she must be wondering whether she was going to get married at all.

I said: “You must be wondering how Charles is faring.”

“Oh? Must I?”

She was insolent. Foolish woman! If she was not careful she would remain a spinster all her days.

“He is in love with you, you know,” I said. “He does not think of any other woman.”

“I was under the impression that he thought a good deal about a number of them.”

“I am talking of marriage.”

“Oh, dear little aunt, I cannot believe it is I who am the cause of his single state rather than the fact that he is scarcely in a position to keep himself let alone a wife.”

“He has been so upset. When he was here he and I quarreled often. It is because he is unhappy that he is so quarrelsome. If he had a wife, I am sure we should be on far better terms.”

“Dear Majesty,” she said lightly, “if he cannot live happily with you, why should he do so with someone else?”

I could have slapped her simpering face. She was mocking me. She knew I only wanted her money for Charles. Indeed what else could I want from her?

She always contrived to spoil any occasion for me. Even the sight of my little Henriette stepping a measure with a handsome nobleman with such grace could not restore my good humor.

There was something else which disturbed me very deeply although I did not realize then how very significant it would prove to be. This was the growing attitude of my son James toward Anne Hyde. He was a few years older than she was and like his brother Charles had always had an eye for women. It was a trait in them which they did not get from their father or from me. But I often wonder whether it actually came through me as it would not surprise me in the least if Charles at any rate should become such another as my father had been as far as women were concerned.

I had seen James follow Anne Hyde surreptitiously. Once I went after them and my suspicions were confirmed. My son was embracing the young woman and she was making a great show of reluctance which was an absolute indication of her willingness.

At that time my irritation was simply because I disliked the Hydes. Then it occurred to me that although it was not disastrous for my sons to have passing love affairs with women like Lucy Walter, who could be cast aside when the matter had run itself out, it was not quite the same thing with the daughter of a man in Edward Hyde’s position.

I decided to tackle James.

I said: “It has come to my ears that you are indulging in an amour with Anne Hyde.”

“You mean it has come to your eyes, Mam,” retorted James. “I was aware of you…spying on us.”

I was amazed at the insolence of my children. First Henry, then Mary, now James. At least Charles was always respectful although he ignored my advice—and Charles was the King and might have been forgiven a little assertiveness.

“I consider it my duty….”

He dared to interrupt. “Oh, Mam, a little amusement is not a matter of state.”

“I would rather you gave up this woman.”

“I would rather not,” he replied.

“James!”

“Yes, Mam.”

“You are my son.”

“Dear Mam, I know that well, but I am of age, you know. I am no longer a child and I cannot brook interference with my personal affairs.”

There were dangerous lights in his eyes. He had a temper to match mine and was the easiest of my children to quarrel with. Out of sympathy with Mary as I was, I did not want trouble with James.

With great restraint I sighed and said: “I beg of you to take care. This is the daughter of Edward Hyde of whom your brother seems to think so highly. She is not a woman like that Lucy Walter who was at the center of that disgraceful affair with your brother, which I am sure did him a great deal of harm and no doubt held him back from his throne.”

“That’s ridiculous,” cried James. “Charles had a very pleasant time with Lucy. She’s a nice creature and you know how Charles dotes on young James…when he sees him.”

“I cannot bear to hear such talk. I wish you were like your father…both of you.”

James looked solemn then as mention of the late King could always make him. He was going to make some bitter retort, I think, but he did not do so. I felt more gentle toward him and said: “Take care, James.”

He softened too. The moment when his temper was about to flare up had passed.

“Don’t fret, Mam,” he said. “I can take care of my own affairs. You should not concern yourself with them.”

It was tantamount to what Mary had told me. Keep out of my business. It is no affair of yours. Oddly enough both incidents revolved about Anne Hyde. It was foolish to allow such a silly simpering creature to make trouble for me. She was not very bright, I gathered, though I had to admit she had a certain feminine appeal.

It would pass, I promised myself; and I did not want to quarrel any more with members of my family.

Soon after that came news from Holland. Little William had developed measles and very reluctantly Mary tore herself away from the delights of Paris to go to him.

The time was passing and nothing seemed to change much except that I was growing poorer. I found it so hard to exist on my pension for I felt I owed it to Charles to live as royally as possible. I did not want anyone to lose sight of the fact that I was the mother of the King of England.

I was growing tired of ceremonies—not that so many came my way, but I disliked sitting with Queen Anne watching some ballet or dance. She was not the most exciting of companions, although God forbid that I should criticize one who had shown me such kindness. I often wondered how I could go on without her help, and sometimes I thought longingly of the life of some noble lady who was not close to Court and did not have to worry constantly whether she was receiving the respect due to her, who did not have to provide certain clothes that she might not appear shabby, who did not have to keep a retinue of servants whose wages she could not afford.

Yes, it would indeed be pleasant to retire to the country, with Henry Jermyn, of course—that dear faithful man who was getting so fat now but still retained his healthy complexion and was quite handsome for his years. I should like to find little Geoffrey again. I often smiled to think how he had stepped out of the pie and come to me. What a happy and amusing introduction and what a sad parting it had been!

Yes, I should like to retire to the country, but I had a daughter for whom I must find a husband. Henriette was my main concern—the only one of my children to be a Catholic and to live close to me. I watched her all the time, worrying about her fragile looks—the child was so thin and looked so pale often—and marveling at her grace when she danced, delighting when she received invitations to assemblies at which the King would be present. But when she went to these entertainments I was always anxious as to whether she would receive her due respect and whether it would be remembered that she was a princess, a king’s daughter, next in precedence to the Queen and myself.

Nothing ever went smoothly and there were so many upsets. For one thing Louis was in love and because he was so inexperienced the whole Court knew it. Marie Mancini was one of the seven beautiful nieces whom Mazarin had brought to France from Italy and no sooner had they arrived than they had become prominent because of their outstanding good looks. Marie I thought the least beautiful; her sister Hortense was quite startlingly so. However it was Marie who caught Louis’s attention and he was quite obsessed by her. Anne told me that he had come to her and told her that he wished to marry Marie.

“Marry her!” I cried indignantly. “He must be mad.”

Anne was thoughtful and I was alarmed. “He says he cannot live without her,” she said.

“He is but a child!”

Anne was staring ahead of her and I was suddenly filled with horror. What of all those stories I had heard about Anne and Mazarin? Some said she had actually married him. Could she really be considering a marriage between the King of France and the niece of the Cardinal?

She looked at me helplessly. “He will clearly have to marry soon.”

“I have great hopes that Charles will recover his crown. I heard only yesterday that a wise man had prophesied that he would be back within the next few years.”

“I should like him to marry an Infanta of Spain from my own country,” said Anne frankly. “But if that failed my next choice would be Henriette, whom you know I love as a daughter. He has a will of his own.” Her eyes shone with pride. She admired this quality in her son which I deplored in my children. “I have spoken to him.”

“Of Henriette?”

She nodded.

“He loves her I believe,” I almost whispered.

“Yes he loves her…as a sister. He says he is sorry for her because she is so frail and poor and unwell…. His heart is set on Marie Mancini.”

“That is quite impossible.”

She hesitated and then said: “I have spoken to the Cardinal.”

I stared at her in horror. She had spoken to the Cardinal! She must be mad. Of course the Cardinal would do everything he could to bring about the marriage.

Her next words surprised me. “The Cardinal says it is impossible.”

“His own niece!”

“Yes. He is such a wise man. He said it would go against royal tradition. The people would never agree to it and would probably rise against it. And they would blame him. He says unthinking people always blame their rulers for anything that goes wrong even when it is in no way connected with them. He said a marriage between Louis and Marie Mancini would be disastrous for the country…and for the Cardinal himself.”