The Loves of Charles II (123 page)

The music stopped.

“Unmask! Unmask!” cried Lauzun.

With seeming reluctance the ladies did so first, and there was loud applause when one of these proved to be Madame de Montespan herself, the King’s flamboyant and beautiful mistress.

Now Madame de Montespan turned to the cavalier. She removed his mask, and there were exposed the handsome features so well known throughout the country.

All rose; men bowed and women curtsied; and the handsome young Louis stood there smiling happily and benignly on them all.

“Our secret is out,” said Louis. “We are unmasked.”

“I could not believe that any but Your Majesty could dance with such grace,” said Lauzun.

Now Madame de Montespan had taken the sword from the King and carried it to the guest of honor.

Buckingham stared down at the flashing diamonds, calculating its cost; then rising, fell on his knees before the King of France and thanked him, almost in tears, for his magnificent gift and all the honor which had been done to his master through him.

The King and his mistress took their places at the table; and the King talked to Buckingham of his love for the King of England, of his grief in Madame’s death; nor did he forget to pay some attention to little Louise. Louise understood. He would have my lord Buckingham know that Mademoiselle de Kéroualle was to be treated with the same respect in England as in France.

How different had been her position when Madame was alive! Then
she had been Madame’s maid of honor—an insignificant post. Now she was the spy of the King of France, and that was indeed important.

“We have prepared many entertainments for you, my lord Duke,” said the King. “There shall be masques and the ballet—we in France are devoted to the ballet.”

“Your Majesty is the ballet’s shining light,” said Louise.

The King smiled, well pleased. “And we must show you our operas and comedies. They shall be acted in illuminated grottoes.”

“I am overwhelmed by all the honor Your Majesty does unto me,” said the Duke.

The King momentarily laid his hand over that of Louise. “And when you take this little subject of mine into England, you will give her the benefit of your care?”

“With all my heart,” said Buckingham.

Later he made plans with Louise.

“I would have you know, Mademoiselle de Kéroualle,” he said, “that from henceforth I serve you with all my heart.”

Louise accepted this outward profession of service with graceful thanks but she attached little importance to it. Since she was to act as French spy in England it had been necessary to acquaint her with certain political aspects of the state of affairs between the two countries. She knew that, although the Duke held a high position in his country’s government and was a member of the famous Cabal, he was ignorant of his master’s true plans.

He was quite unaware that the King of France was planning war with Holland in the spring of next year, and in this war the King of England would be his ally; and that as soon as it was satisfactorily concluded Charles was to declare his conversion to Catholicism.

Therefore she had little faith in Buckingham. Herself calm and rarely losing control of her emotions, she thought the Duke a tempestuous man who, clever though he might be, could be driven into great folly by his uncontrolled passions.

He was, he told her, although he had been so flatteringly received in France, looking forward to returning to his own country.

He talked of Anna Shrewsbury in glowing terms; he was indeed deeply infatuated with the woman. Louise listened and said little. He began to think her a little simpleton, one who would never hold his King’s affection. He compared her with Anna, with Barbara, with Moll Davies and Nell Gwyn. Those four were possessed of beauty—outstanding beauty which would have marked them for notice anywhere. It seemed to Buckingham
that Louise de Kéroualle lacked even that first essential. Why, there were indeed times when the woman positively squinted. And she was always so formal; he thought of Anna and Barbara in their rages, of Nell’s wit and high spirits. It was true Moll Davies never raged, was never witty and rarely showed any spirits, but she was an extremely lovely woman. Nay, the more he pondered the matter, the more certain he became that Louise de Kéroualle would not hold the King’s attention for long.

He was wondering whether he was not wasting his time in ingratiating himself with her. He was longing to be back with Anna.

He said to her: “There are certain matters to which I have to attend in Paris. My master, the King of England, is growing impatient to receive you. I think much time would be saved if you travelled to Dieppe in company which I will arrange for you and set out at once. I will conduct with all speed my business in Paris, arrange for a yacht to carry you to England, and I’ll swear I’ll be at Dieppe before you arrive there. Then I can have the great honor of conducting you to England.”

“I consider that an excellent arrangement,” said Louise, who was longing to set out on her journey and fearful, with every passing day, that the King of England might change his mind and, realizing that a young woman who came from Louis’ Court might have been schooled in the arts of espionage, decide that he would be wise to content himself with the ladies of his own Court.

“Then let it be so,” cried Buckingham. “I will inform His Majesty of my plans.”

So it was arranged. Louise travelled to Dieppe; Buckingham lingered in Paris. He wanted to buy clothes, not only for himself, but for Anna.

Paris was always a step ahead of London with the fashions, and Anna would be delighted with what he would bring her.

When Louise arrived in Dieppe—and the journey there from St. Germain had taken two whole weeks—it was to find that Buckingham had not yet arrived.

No one there had heard anything of the yacht which Buckingham had promised to have ready for her. Louise was weary after the journey from St. Germain and at first was not sorry to rest awhile—but not for long. She was fully aware of the importance of the task which lay before her. She had discovered all she could concerning the King of England, and she knew that, once she arrived in England, she would be well received. What terrified her was that, before she had an opportunity of being with the King, he might suggest that she did not cross the Channel.

She knew that Lady Castlemaine would do all in her power to prevent her arrival, and Lady Castlemaine still wielded some power.

So when the days began to pass she grew really alarmed.

Two days—three—a whole week, and there was still no sign of the Duke.

With the coming of the next week she grew frantic. She sent a messenger to Ralph Montague, the ambassador in Paris, and begged to know what she should do.

She waited most anxiously for news. Each time a messenger arrived at her lodgings she would start up in a sweat of trepidation. During those two anxious weeks in Dieppe the continual threat of failure was before her; she imagined herself being sent back to her parents’ home in Finisterre, an ignoble failure, knowing that if she did not go to England there would now be no place for her at the French Court.

She watched the sea, which was rough and choppy, for a sight of the yacht which would come to take her away. Mayhap the weather was too rough for Buckingham to reach her. She clutched at any explanation.

And while she waited there, one of her maids came to tell her that a traveller had arrived from Calais and, hearing that she was awaiting the arrival of the Duke of Buckingham, had news for her if she would care to hear it.

The man was brought in.

“Mademoiselle de Kéroualle,” he began, “I have heard that you are awaiting the arrival of the English Duke. He left Calais more than a week ago.”

“Left Calais! For where?”

“For England.”

“But that is impossible.”

“’Tis true, Mademoiselle.”

“But did he say nothing of calling at Dieppe?”

“He said he was sailing for England. He filled the yacht with presents, which had been given him, and goods which he had bought. He said he hoped to arrive in England very soon as the tide was favorable.”

Louise dismissed the man. She could bear no more. She shut herself into her room, lay on her bed, and pulled the curtains about it.

She knew that she had been deserted. She felt certain now that the King of England had changed his mind, that he had not been serious when he had asked for her to be sent to his Court, that he recognized her coming as the coming of a spy, and had commanded Buckingham to return to England without her.

It was all over—her wonderful dream which was to have saved her from an ignoble future. She should have known; it had been too wonderful,
too easy. It was like something that happens only in a dream: To have gone to the Court in the hope that she would be chosen as the mistress of Louis Quatorze, and to have qualified for the same post at the Court of the King of England!

How long could she stay here in this desolate little seaport? Only until her parents sent for her or came to take her home.

There was someone to see her.

She allowed her maid to comb back her hair from her hot face. She did not ask who the visitor was. She did not want to know. She guessed it was her father or someone from him, come to take her to her home, for they would know that the Duke of Buckingham had left without her.

Waiting for her was Ralph Montague, Charles’ ambassador, whom she had often seen in Paris.

He came towards her, took her hand, and kissed it with great ceremony.

“I came with all speed on receiving your message,” he said.

“It was good of you, my lord.”

“Nay,” he said, “’twas my duty. My master would never have forgiven me had I not come in person to offer my assistance.”

“My lord Buckingham did not arrive,” she said. “I have been waiting here for two weeks. I hear now that he left Calais some time ago.”

“Buckingham!” Ralph Montague’s lips curled with disgust. “I offer humble apologies for my countryman, Mademoiselle. I trust you will not judge us all by this one. The Duke is feckless and unreliable. My master will be incensed when he returns without you.”

Louise did not say that his master would doubtless know of his return by now and had done nothing about arranging for her journey.

“I wondered whether he was acting on the King’s instructions.”

“The King is eagerly awaiting your arrival, Mademoiselle.”

“I was led to believe that was so,” said Louise. “But I doubt it now.”

“And still is. Mademoiselle, I have already arranged for a yacht to call here in a few hours’ time. It shall be my pleasure to make these arrangements. My friend, Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington, will be waiting to receive you when you arrive in England. He and his family will look after you until you are presented to His Majesty. I trust you will give me this great pleasure in arranging your safe conduct.”

The relief was so great that Louise, calm as she habitually was, was almost ready to break into hysterical tears.

She managed to say: “You are very good.”

Montague said: “I will remain here in Dieppe and see you aboard if I have your permission to do so.”