There was a great deal to be done; a quarter of a million people had lost their homes and were camping in the fields around London. There had to be special arrangements to feed them.

Rebuilding must begin at once and Charles called in his best architect, Christopher Wren.

There were ugly rumors in the air. Lady Suffolk reluctantly told me of them.

“They are saying that the fire was started by papists.”

“What a wicked lie. It is untrue, I know.”

“Yes, Madam. But the people will say anything.”

Charles acted promptly. There was an immediate inquiry, which, of course, proved that there was no foundation in the rumor.

It was not a time for false accusations, declared the King. What was important was to house and feed the people…to build new homes for them…to make a better London…a London of wide streets, light houses to replace the old dark ones…to make sure that something better arose from the ashes.

THE ELOPEMENT

A NEW YEAR HAD COME. BUILDING WAS GOING ON APACE and London was beginning to look like a prosperous city again. Nearly two million pounds had been voted for the purpose and life was settling down to normal.

The great interest at court was the King’s devotion to Frances Stuart.

Charles really seemed to care for her. It amazed me that a man of his intellect could be besotted with such a foolish creature. Her beauty was of course unique: her skin was as smooth as a child’s, her eyes clear and innocent, her features perfectly formed; and after the brazen arrogance of Lady Castlemaine one could not help liking her a little. But Charles was becoming really melancholy and the wits around him tried in vain to arouse him. They missed his gaiety. It seemed that nothing could satisfy him but the Fair Stuart.

I had two enemies at court, and they were both powerful; one was the Earl of Bristol and the other the Duke of Buckingham.

The Duke had always promoted Frances Stuart because he had believed he could make her work for him through the King. Charles was fully aware of this but it only seemed to amuse him. The fact remained though that the King could not stop yearning for Frances, and Frances was determined not to give way without marriage.

Such a situation had occurred before in royal circles and I heard the names of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn often whispered, so it was clear to me what was in the minds of many people.

Henry VIII had been married to Catherine of Aragon who had produced one child — a girl — though there had been a succession of miscarriages. Catherine of Braganza had not produced even one girl.

Clarendon was out of favor; he had been so for some time. People remembered that it was he who had helped to arrange the Portuguese marriage. Why? asked the people. Because he had known that I was barren. His daughter had married the Duke of York who was in line to the throne, they said, and if the King had no legitimate children who would follow him, the Duke would be king and Clarendon’s grandchildren would be heirs to the throne.

They fancied they saw the wily Clarendon’s reasoning.

I was inclined to shrug all this aside, but then a great deal of what was happening was kept from me.

It was Anne Hyde who told me, because she thought I should be aware of the direction in which events were moving. She was right, of course.

She said: “Bristol and Buckingham are trying to oust my father from office. They have always been jealous of him.” She looked at me shrewdly. “I believe that if all is not well it is better to know it. One can then be prepared to deal with these matters when they are thrust upon one.”

I liked Anne. She was forthright. I also liked her daughter Mary, of whom she was so proud. She had a second girl now, Anne, who had been born just before the plague struck London. But the Duchess had suffered the loss of her boys. It seemed perverse of nature to make the girls more hardy when everyone wanted boys. I should have been grateful even for a girl.

I said: “You speak truth. I agree with you that it is not helpful to be in ignorance.”

“Buckingham is powerful and an evil influence. I cannot understand why the King tolerates him.”

“He is witty and clever, qualities which the King greatly admires.”

“And shares, but the King’s wit is more kindly. Do you not agree?”

I said I did.

She was looking at me intently. “There is this latest lampoon which they have attached to the gate of my father’s house.”

“And what is this lampoon? And who fixed it on your father’s gates?”

“Buckingham’s friends doubtless…and the lampoon concerns Your Majesty.”

“What is it?” I asked faintly.

“You know they blame my father for the sale of Dunkirk…”

“But the reason Dunkirk had to be sold was because it was too expensive to hold.”

“That’s so. But when the people want to blame someone they will do so whatever the facts. Tangiers is proving difficult to hold and they are pretending that it is not worth having.”

“And the lampoon?”

“I hesitate to repeat it. But perhaps you should know. It reads:


Three sights to be seen

Dunkirk, Tangiers and a barren Queen.


I flushed hotly.

“Your Majesty must forgive me,” said Anne.

“It is better I should be aware. They believe, do they not, that I, with Dunkirk and Tangiers, am a catastrophe which has befallen the nation.”

“They are impatient…”

“I have been the King’s wife long enough…”

“It happens sometimes that these things do not come about at once. The important point is that my father’s enemies…your enemies…have dared to write that.”

“The King will not be pleased,” I said.

She looked at me steadily and said: “I can speak frankly to Your Majesty. You and I both have unfaithful husbands. They are alike in this. We made grand marriages and we have gained a good deal; we must needs accept the disadvantages. I think Your Majesty should not treat this matter lightly.”

“You mean to this suggestion that I am barren?”

“They are talking about that other royal marriage.”

“Henry VIII’s,” I said.

She nodded. “I do not know whether this is merely a fabrication but I did hear a rumor that the King was consulting Dr. Seldon.”

“The Archbishop of Canterbury!”

I could not believe that I was hearing correctly.

“It may be just a rumor, but sometimes when these things are said there is a little truth in them.

“You are saying that the King wishes to be rid of me so that he may marry Frances Stuart?”

“It is a case similar to that other.”

“I do not believe the King would do this. He has always been so kind and considerate to me.”

“It is his nature to be kind and considerate. He would regret it, I know. We are all aware of his regard for you. But the King is a man who will go to great lengths for those of whom he is enamoured…and if he has talked to the Archbishop of Canterbury…”

“What could the Archbishop promise him?”

“There could be talk of the need to get an heir to the throne. It is not unknown in royal circles.”

I was feeling faint. I wanted to be alone to think.

Anne was quick to notice this.

She said hastily: “I thought only that you should be aware. Perhaps I have said too much. If I have, it was due to my anxiety for you. You are my sister-in-law. I thought you should be prepared.”

“You did right and I thank you. It is better that I should know.”

“Of course, one cannot believe all the rumors one hears.”

I nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Anne,” I said. “I am grateful to you.”

I was glad when she left me, for I was stunned by what she had hinted. He wanted to be rid of me. I stood between him and Frances Stuart. If I were no longer his wife, he could offer marriage to her because it was the only way she would succumb.

What should I do? If I agreed to a divorce it would be arranged without doubt. The Pope had not given the sanction which Henry VIII had demanded, but this was different. Catherine of Aragon had been the aunt of the Emperor Charles, one of the most powerful men in Europe whom that Pope dared not offend. It was certain that there would be no one of such importance to defend the rights of Catherine Braganza.

It was foolish to think of that notorious case. All cases were different.

Moreover, there was no need to consider the Church of Rome; and if Charles had in fact consulted the Archbishop of Canterbury, it would mean that the Archbishop would now be considering how best a divorce could be contrived. I supposed a woman could be divorced because she was not fertile.

And Charles? Would he do this to me? I remembered him at my bedside when he had thought I was dying. I recalled his tears…the hours he had spent there…the genuine grief. Could he do this to me?

I tried not to think what my life would be like without him. There would be no place for me here. I should be sent back to Portugal. My mother was dead, my brothers in conflict with each other. Alfonso would be proving himself useless without my mother to guide him and Pedro, who had always resented not being the elder, would be trying to take what was Alfonso’s. I could not bear it. I had to stay here. Charles, I knew, preferred other women physically, but there was friendship between us, and he cared for me in a way; and I had settled for that. I had managed to bring myself to a state when I could accept his infidelities and be moderately happy on those occasions when we were together.