There was another reason for my pleasure. I knew the Grande Mademoiselle had wanted Philippe when Louis was out of her reach, so this was a blow for her. I really did believe she was never going to get a husband and I could not wait to see her face when she heard that Philippe and Henriette were betrothed.

Henriette was less enthusiastic about the proposed marriage. It was often difficult to know what my daughter was thinking. She looked rather sad and said: “Does Philippe really want to marry…and to marry me?”

“Of course he wants to marry. It is his duty. Why, if his brother died tomorrow he could be King of France.”

“Dear Mam, you should not say such things.”

“So even you are telling me now what I should say and what I should not say. I begin to believe that I have brought a family of tutors into the world.”

She kissed me and said she knew how I had always loved and cared for my family and if I wished it and Philippe wished it she supposed she must marry him.

“My dear daughter,” I cried, “you do not sound very appreciative of the second best match in France.”

“I think I would have chosen not to marry for a while. I have a great fancy to go to England and to be near Charles.”

“Charles is the King and it is right that you should love and admire him, but he is only your brother, remember. You have your own life to lead.”

“But we are going to England.”

“We are. As soon as I have made sure that the betrothal is firm, we shall visit your brother and then we shall come back for the wedding…your wedding, my dear child. I shall see my son on his throne and my best-loved child married. I really begin to see a great deal of brightness in the sky. It has been so dark…so very dark…for such a long time.”

Enjoyable weeks followed. I reveled in the preparations and tried not to think of the sea voyage which I always loathed. But it would be worthwhile this time. I had had the pleasure of a little conversation with Mademoiselle who was beside herself with jealousy of Henriette. She called on me and I was sure there was a purpose in this for in view of the betrothal I should have thought she would have wanted to keep out of the way.

“You have come to congratulate me,” I said slyly, knowing it was the last thing she would come to do.

“You must be very pleased that your plans have at last borne fruit,” she said.

“Plans!” I said opening my eyes very wide. “I had no plans. I can tell you, niece, I was amazed when the Queen told me that Philippe had declared his love for Henriette and had stated that he would have no other for his wife.”

“It must have been a surprise,” she said. “One would not have thought Philippe had time to consider such matters, he being so preoccupied with his dear friend de Guiche.”

“Oh, he has had his eyes on Henriette for a long time. The dear child is overjoyed. I wish I could let you know how delightful it is to be loved by such a man.”

There was a slightly strained look on her face. “I hear you are planning to visit London.”

“That is our intention. Then we shall return and the wedding will take place.”

“How fares the King of England?”

“Well…well indeed.”

“I daresay he remembers his days here in Paris…and some of his old friends. It is a pity to let old friends disappear. I should like to see the King again.”

I smiled to myself. So that is it, is it? No Louis. No Philippe. Let’s try Charles.

Oh no, my dear Mademoiselle. It is too late now. Then he was an exiled Prince. You declined him. Now he is the King of England—and the most desirable bachelor in Europe. Poor Mademoiselle, you have failed again. Too late. You should have taken a chance.

She looked so forlorn and so clearly aging that I felt almost sorry for her. But she was not for Charles now—in spite of all her money.

A visit to London in the present circumstances should have been pure delight; but life never worked out quite like that for me.

As we were on the point of departure news came from England which completely stunned me. I read the dispatch through and could not believe it. I read it again and again. There was no mistake. This terrible thing had happened.

Henriette came in and found me almost dazed by the shock.

She sat beside me and took my hand. I snatched it away. My fury was so great that it would be restrained no longer.

“I cannot believe it,” I cried. “I simply cannot believe it.”

“Charles…” she murmured turning pale.

“Charles!” I spat out. “He has given his consent to this folly. Are they all mad?”

She begged me to tell her what had happened and I cried out: “It is your brother James. He has married that scheming harlot, Anne Hyde. That rogue, her father, has planned this, you can be sure. Without my consent…without the King’s consent…he married her in secret.”

“He must love her dearly,” said Henriette a little wistfully.

I could have struck her—yes, even my best-loved child.

“Love!” I cried. “She has trapped him. I saw it from the first. Mary should never have taken her into her Court. She should never have brought her to Paris in the first place. This is disaster. My son James…married to that woman…and just in time it seems that her bastard may be born in wedlock.”

“James would want his own child to be born in wedlock, Mam.”

“She wanted it. A child. It has gone as far as that. If only I had been there. Charles should have stopped it.”

“But they did it in secret.”

“And your brother Charles is actually receiving the woman at his Court.”

“It is because she is James’s wife, Mam.”

“James’s harlot! Thank God we shall soon be in England. I may be able to put a stop to all this. We might get the marriage annulled. And Charles…allowing it all, shrugging his shoulders and telling them to go their merry ways…. He will lose his crown if he is not careful.”

Henriette was fierce as always when anything derogatory was said about Charles. “I think his kindness and good humor will help him to keep it, Mam.”

I could have shaken her. Was she suggesting that her father lost his crown because he was not like her brother? I turned away from her and she said pleadingly: “Mam, we must be kind to James’s wife.”

I retorted stonily: “James has no wife as far as I am concerned.”

She was silent for some time and then she said, perhaps thinking to turn me away from my rage, “And there is Henry.”

I stared at her in anger, which she had succeeded in increasing.

“He will be there, Mam, and you remember you parted bad friends.”

“I remember what a disobedient boy he was. He defied me and I vowed I would not look on his face again.”

“He will be at Court. Charles loves him dearly and has told me that he has done good service for him. Mam, could you not forget all that? Could you not be friends? It would so please Charles, and Henry is your son.”

“I vowed to the saints that I would never see Henry until he became a Catholic. He never has done so and until he does I shall not see him for I would not break my vow.”

For once Henriette became quite fierce. “You would spurn your own child, you would hurt your son, the King, for the sake of a vow.”

“A vow made to God, child.”

She turned away and did not speak. I could not bear that she, my beloved one, should be on bad terms with me and I said her name softly. She turned back to me and threw herself into my arms.

There were tears on her cheeks.

“There, my little one,” I said, “we must not storm against each other. I must be able to rely on my little Henriette.”

“Mam, then you will see Henry?”

“No, child, I do not break my vows.”

So this much-looked-forward-to visit was to be marred by James’s wicked act and Henry’s stubbornness. It was not the Roundheads who were making me unhappy now; it was my own family.

There was another blow waiting for me.

We had set out for Calais when we received dispatches from London. An epidemic of small pox had invaded the capital and had claimed a number of victims. One of these was my son Henry.

I felt completely numb when I read that. We had been talking of him so recently and I was preparing myself to refuse to see him. Now I never could. Never again. I remembered when he had been born, what pleasure his coming had given Charles and me; and then our bitter quarrel and how he had defied me and how I had turned him away…stripped him of his food and lodging, even ordered that the sheets should be taken from his bed to show him that there was no home for him with me.

Poor Henriette, she was stricken with grief. It was a long time since she had seen Henry, but she had a strong family feeling and she was particularly upset on my account because she felt that I would reproach myself.

It was some time before she could bring herself to talk of it. Then she said: “Dear Mam, you must not blame yourself.”

“Blame myself?” I cried. “Why should I?”

“Because he died while there was this quarrel between you…because you parted in anger.”

“My dear child, everything I did was for his good. If he had embraced our Faith we should have been as happy together as you and I have been. I am not sorry that I kept to my vow. Haven’t the nuns taught you that vows are sacred when made to God?”

“Perhaps God would have forgiven you for breaking this one if you had had the chance.”

“I have nothing with which to reproach myself,” I said firmly. “Everything I did was for his good.”

But when I was alone I wept for him, wept inconsolably, for I could only remember my little baby whom I had once loved so dearly, and thinking of him—brave boy that he was—I realized that he believed he had been right too. It was religion which had divided us, and religion had played a major part in all that had happened to me.