Everything that happened to us was noted, and as we passed along the road, I saw surprise in the passersby to see me riding in the royal coach with the King, James Crofts and Lady Castlemaine.


* * *

I WAS SOON TO DISCOVER why the sight had aroused such interest. There was something else besides the fact that Lady Castlemaine and I were riding together.

It was Lady Suffolk who, after some pressure, enlightened me. She was my friend, I believed, and in this country I had need of friendship, so I treasured hers.

While she was preparing me to retire for the night, I said to her: “Do you know the boy, James Crofts?”

She paused for a moment with the brush in her hand and said, “Oh yes, Your Majesty.”

“I found him interesting.”

“Yes, Madam.”

“I could not quite understand…though he spoke very good English…I believe he is English…but he has been a good deal in France.”

“Yes, Madam.”

“He is called Crofts and seems to be related to Lord Crofts, but I gathered Lord Crofts is not his father.”

“No, Madam.”

“The King seems to know him.”

“Oh yes, Madam.”

I turned and looked at Lady Suffolk intently. I saw that puzzled look in her face which, knowing her of old, indicated to me that she might be asking herself whether she should tell me something.

I said: “What do you know about James Crofts, Lady Suffolk?”

“Well, Madam, he is well known at court.”

“So I gathered. I learned that Lord Crofts was at the Battle of Worcester.”

“He has always been a loyal supporter of the monarchy and spent years in exile with the King.”

“And the boy is not his son. Who is his father, then?”

Lady Suffolk had turned away. I caught her hand. “You know,” I said. “Please tell me.”

She said after a pause: “Your Majesty will know in time, and before long, I’ll swear. The King is his father.”

“The King?”

“Yes. His mother was a certain Lucy Walter. She is dead now. James was put into the care of Lord Crofts. The King has always been interested in his welfare.”

I felt the room spinning round me. I clutched the table. I feared I was going to faint again.

Why was it that I was always in the dark when others knew? Those people who had seen me riding in the coach knew; Lady Castlemaine knew; the whole court knew. I was the only one in ignorance.

I had ridden in the royal coach with the King, his mistress and his bastard. It seemed significant in some way.

I was shocked and bewildered.


* * *

I COULD NOT SLEEP. I lay on my bed turning from side to side, imagining Charles with Lady Castlemaine. She had been giving birth to a son when I arrived. It was the reason why Charles had given so much time to me. Because she was unavailable.

It was most shameful and humiliating.

Could I endure it? I must. There was no going back. I remembered his voice with a hint of sarcasm: “You should discover first whether your mother would have you.” No, there was no turning back. I should have to accept my fate. And the question was in my mind: If I could go back to Portugal and never see him again, should I want to?

The truth was that I wanted to stay. Unhappy, jealous as I was, I would rather be near him than apart. It was hard to set aside my pride and admit this, but it was true.

I had an opportunity of talking to Queen Henrietta Maria about it. She loved to talk to me and give her advice; and, moreover, she was by now very fond of me.

I told her that I had discovered that James Crofts was Charles’s son.

“It’s true,” she said. “Mon Dieu, and who could doubt it! He has a look of the King…and the manners at times. Young James cannot forget that he is the son of a king. I like the boy. I advised Charles as to his education and he is being well cared for.”

“And his mother?”

“A slut without doubt…though not ill-born. Her father had a castle in Wales…Roch Castle, I think it was. She was just Charles’s age. They must have been about eighteen when they met. She was a beauty…though without much wit. But who looks for wit at eighteen? And Charles had enough for the two of them. She was no blushing virgin. Her favors had been somewhat freely dispensed. James once told me that Algernon Sidney had given fifty gold pieces for her, and was very aggrieved because no sooner had he paid the money than he was called away to his regiment and his brother stepped in and took the prize. She had had many lovers before and since Charles. The family’s castle had been destroyed by the Roundheads and Lucy had come by stages to the continent. It was at the Hague where they met.”

“And he fell in love with her?”

“Well, perhaps. It was something more than a passing fancy. Jemmy — James Crofts — was born in ’49…that terrible year when my husband was murdered.”

“And did Charles acknowledge James Crofts as his son then?”

“Charles is by nature…accommodating. Is that the right word? But it seems certain Jemmy is his. I suppose one can never be absolutely certain…even in the most respectable circles.” She gave a light laugh. “But there seems little doubt. Jemmy is every inch a Stuart.”

“And what happened to his mother? Where is she now?”

“Where sinners go when they leave this earth. She stayed at the Hague while Charles went to Scotland, and when he came back she no longer attracted him. The boy was put with Lord Crofts, and Lucy slipped back into the life which suited her best. She was given a pension and returned to London. But her connection with Charles was known and Cromwell’s men soon discovered her whereabouts. She was arrested in some lodgings near Somerset House and spent a time in the Tower, so I heard. But they must have realized she would not have had the wit to spy, so they sent her back to the continent. She died in Paris about two years before the restoration. My son James told me that he has always been uneasy about James Crofts. There was once a rumor that Charles married Lucy Walter. Quite absurd, of course, but it alarmed James. Well, well, until you produce the heir to the throne, James is there…next in line…and if Jemmy were Charles’s legitimate son, as he would be if Charles had married Lucy Walter…well, you see what I mean. But do not fret. There was no marriage. Charles would not be such a fool…and Lucy is long since dead. James Crofts is a delightful boy…like his father in many ways. Let us hope that he does not take after his mother.”

“I see that I have a great deal to learn.”

“Ma chérie, we all have much to learn. When I think of the mistakes I have made in my life…poof!” She made a gesture as though to blow them away. “I could spend my time saying, ‘What if I had not done this, that?’ Oh, it is no good. Sacré bleu, one must not regret too much…concern yourself with what is…now. Make up your mind. Is this what I want? you say. Forget all that has gone before. It is now that matters.”

“You are so good to me, so understanding.”

“Ah, life is so short. Let us live as best we can. It is the life hereafter that is important.”

I said: “I was so unprepared. Since I have come here I have had many shocks.”

“You mean with Charles?”

“Yes, with Charles.”

“I know him well. He is…is he not…my son? There is much that I would alter if I could. He is a man governed by the love of women…or perhaps I must say…the need of women. Some are like that. My father was. Charles inherits this…through me.” She lifted her shoulders and grimaced. “They will have their women, no matter what. For the rest, they are wise and witty, and at heart kindly…a little lazy…hating trouble. Charles is fond of you. He likes you very much…but he will never be faithful to you. It is not in him to be faithful…not to any woman. My father was like him. I saw how my mother lived. So I understand. Accept this weakness in him and he will be grateful to you, he will be kind. You will give him the son which is so necessary…and that son will be King. But do not try to interfere with those women of his. Remember, they are not important. I tell you before. You are the Queen, and the wife of the King is the mother of the King-to-be. Accept this and all is well. You say you had romantic dreams…but, chérie, life is not made of dreams. Yet it can be good. I have learned some wisdom in spite of all my follies. Would to God I had learned earlier. Bah…but it is always easy when solving the problems of others. It is only one’s own that are so difficult.”

I took her hand and kissed it.

“My dear, dear child,” she said. “It makes me happy that you are here. It is not the King’s amours that should concern us. It is his immortal soul. You will persuade him to the true faith in time. Do not whisper this, but I believe James is already there.”

“Then,” I said, “I must accept these women. I must show friendship to them…to Lady Castlemaine?”

“Her time will pass, chérie. And there will be another…perhaps an easier one. She is an odious creature…bold, brazen…but, let us face the truth…very handsome. She is outrageous and so amuses the King — and he likes to be amused. But never fear. She will be replaced.”

I smiled. “What a blessing it is to be able to talk to you! You do me so much good. You are so wise.”

She laughed. “I can tell you this: when I look back over my life, I can see that, if there were a palm for the most foolish of queens, that palm would be mine.”

“No…no!”

“Yes…yes! It is so. But never mind it now. It is over and finished. You are young and you are going to bring Charles’s soul to God.”