The Merry Monarch's Wife (40 page)

I was very sad to lose my sister. Life was not the same without her good-natured smiles. I pictured her on a strict diet, deprived of her sweetmeats. Perhaps she was taking it all in her good-tempered manner.

It was a happy day when she returned, good-natured as ever and, if not exactly thin, less rotund than she had been.

Everyone declared that the cure had been a miraculous one, but it soon became clear that the temptation presented by a dish of sweetmeats was still irresistible. However, we were all so delighted to have her back that we could only smile at her indulgences.

During Anne's absence I missed her so much that my parents decided I must have a companion to compensate me for the loss of my sister and, to my great joy, Anne Trelawny joined the household. She was a few years older than I and we were firm friends from the beginning. It was wonderful to have someone to confide in; and Anne was sympathetic, understanding and all that I could ask for in a friend.

My sister Anne must always have what I had and when she came home and saw that I had a friend, she must have one too.

She made this desire known to our mother who immediately set about looking for someone suitable.

She had been particularly interested in one of the maids of honor, a certain Frances Jennings who came from a family of somewhat obscure origins. It was something of a mystery that she should be received at court, but Frances herself was very engaging—not exactly beautiful, but attractive and quick-witted. My mother, herself of a lively mind, liked to have people of her own sort about her, and she was more attracted to intelligence than ancient lineage. Hence she took a special interest in Frances and when a connection of the noble house of Hamilton was attracted by her, my mother helped to advance the match.

Frances had a younger sister, Sarah, whom she was anxious to bring to court and when the young girl was introduced to my mother, she found her very bright indeed. She was about five years older than my sister Anne, which seemed no drawback, and she would, my mother was sure, be a lively, entertaining companion for our somewhat lethargic Anne.

A position in our household was naturally accepted with alacrity by the ambitious Frances for her sister, and I am sure now that from the moment Sarah entered our household, she was fully aware of the advantages which had opened up for her.

She knew exactly how to behave with Anne and, almost from the day of her arrival, they were the closest friends. We were a happy quartet: Anne Trelawny and myself, my sister Anne and Sarah Jennings.

Then a certain anxiety crept into my mind. I felt something was not quite right. My mother had changed. She seemed a little absentminded at times. She would smile and nod but her thoughts seemed elsewhere. In spite of her plumpness, there was a drawn look about her face. I noticed that its color had changed. Her skin had a strange yellowish tinge and now and then she would put her hand to her breast and wince.

I thought at first that she was anxious because her father had gone away, and when I thought of what I should feel if I lost mine, I could understand her sorrow. But there was only one Duke of York and Lady Mary; and no father and daughter loved each other as we did. My mother had lost her father, who had run away to save his head. But there was something else. Once I saw her walking in the gardens with Father Hunt, a Franciscan; and they were talking earnestly together.

I knew that Father Hunt was a Catholic and I was sure that Gilbert Sheldon, Archbishop of Canterbury, would not be very pleased to see my mother in close conversation with him. Then I saw my father join them and the three of them walked off talking closely together.

I did not think very much about that at the time, until I heard that the people did not like my uncle's marriage to Catherine of Braganza, because she was a Catholic, and the English did not like Catholics.

This and the change in my mother's looks were like vague shadows, but so slight that they did not linger long in the warm sunshine of those happy days.

         

MY MOTHER WAS GOING
to have a baby. That was the reason for her being ill, I supposed. She was so plump and her figure so round that her pregnancy was scarcely noticeable.

Anne and I eagerly waited to hear whether we should have a little brother or sister. We hoped for a sister. Brothers were a disappointment. They were always ill.

To our delight it was a little girl. They named her Catherine, in honor of the Queen.

We talked a great deal about her—or rather, I talked and Anne listened. Anne preferred to listen. Sometimes I thought she was getting more and more lazy.

My father came to see us. It was a cold day in March and the year was 1671. I was at that time nearly nine years old and Anne already six. I was greatly alarmed because I saw the pain and suffering in my father's face.

He sat down and, putting an arm round each of us, drew us to him and held us closely. Sobs shook his body. I was filled with horror as well as sadness to see my invincible hero so broken with grief.

“My dearest daughters,” he said. “The most terrible of calamities has befallen us. How can I tell you? Your mother…your mother…”

I kissed him tenderly, which only made him weep the more.

He said: “Children, you have no mother now.”

“Where has she gone?” asked Anne.

“To heaven, my child.”

“Dead…?” I whispered.

He nodded.

“But she was here…”

“She was so brave. She knew it could not be long. She was very ill indeed. There was nothing that could be done to save her. My children, you have only your father now.”

I clung to him: so did Anne.

He told us that he had been with her at the end. She had died in his arms. She had died happy…in the way she wished. We must try not to grieve. We must think of her happy with the angels in the true faith of the Lord.

We were bewildered. We could not believe that we should never see our mother again. Neither of us could visualize what our lives would be like without her. There would be changes.

We were soon to discover that.

We had lost her, yes. But there was something more than that. What we did not know then was that, on her deathbed, she had received the
viaticum
of the Church of Rome and that my father was also wavering toward the Catholic faith.

Unfortunately, my father was not keeping this a secret. He was too honest. He believed he would be false to his faith if he tried to disguise it. I was to learn that he was a man of very little judgment. Already he had taken the first step which was to lead to disaster. And we children, because he was after all his brother's heir, were not without importance to the State.

So there were changes. In view of his religious leanings, which were becoming public knowledge, the Duke of York could no longer be allowed to supervise his children's upbringing, and because of their position in the country, it was necessary for the King to take the matter in hand.

About the Author

JEAN PLAIDY
is the pen name of the prolific English author Eleanor Hibbert, also known as Victoria Holt. More than 14 million copies of her books have been sold worldwide.

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www.CrownHistorical.com
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Read Jean Plaidy's Queens of England series in historical order:

1

The Courts of Love
The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS

2

The Queen's Secret
The Story of Queen Katherine
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS

3

The Reluctant Queen
The Story of Anne of York
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS

4

The Lady in the Tower
The Story of Anne Boleyn
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS

5

The Rose Without a Thorn
The Story of Katherine Howard
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS

6

In the Shadow of the Crown
The Story of Mary Tudor
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS

7

Queen of This Realm
Memoir of Elizabeth I
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS

8

Loyal in Love
Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I
previously published as
Myself My Enemy
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS

9

The Merry Monarch's Wife
The Story of Catherine of Bragnaza
previously published as
The Pleasures of Love
AVAILABLE NOW FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS

10

The Queen's Devotion
Princess Mary of York,
Daughter of James II,
Wife of William of Orange
previously published as
William's Wife
AVAILABLE FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS IN SUMMER '08