I knew it was sound advice. I wondered if I could ever be disciplined enough to follow it.

When I saw the letter Charles had written to Buckingham I was so incensed that I almost tore it into pieces and threw it out of the window. I wished I had done so and then I should have delighted in telling Charles of my act.

I don’t know how he could have been so careless, but I supposed he had thought it was safe in his own apartments. It was lying on a table just as he had written it, and slipping into the room I saw it.

“Steenie,” he had written.

“Steenie!” I said aloud scornfully. It was absurd how Charles doted on the fellow. He was as weak as his father. What was wrong with these Stuarts? Weaklings, that was what they were. Mary, the Queen of Scots, Charles’s grandmother had been foolish—so much so that she had lost her head at Fotheringay.

I went on to read the letter.

“I writ to you by Ned Clarke that I thought I should have cause enough, in a short time, to put away the monsers….”

I ground my teeth. He meant by “monsers,” monsieurs, my French attendants.

“Either by their attempting to steal away my wife or by making plots with my own subjects. For the first I cannot say whether it was intended; but I am sure it is hindered; for the other, though I have good grounds to believe it, and am still hunting after it, yet seeing daily the maliciousness of the monsers by making and fomenting discontents in my wife. I could tarry no longer in advertising to you that I mean to seek for no other grounds…. Advertise the Queen Mother of my intentions….

“I pray you send me word with what speed you may whether ye like this course or not. I shall put nothing of this into execution until I hear from you…. I am resolved it shall be done and shortly. So longing to see you, I rest.

“Your loving and constant friend

“Charles R.”

I was furious. They were talking about my friends, my happiness. And he would do nothing until my Lord Buckingham gave his permission! Oh yes, Buckingham was the evil spirit who had ruined my happiness. I hated him.

It soon became clear that Buckingham approved of the measure Charles was taking against me, for it was not long before all my dear friends left for France.

Lucy took the trouble to send someone along the river to Somerset House that I might know how my friends left.

There was a little trouble, she told me. When all the barges were there to take them away, the people crowded into the streets and along the river to watch them go. At first my dear friends declared they would not leave for they had not been properly discharged and were here on the terms of the marriage treaty. The King had to send a strong body of yeomen with heralds and trumpeters and they were told that His Majesty’s orders were that they were to leave without more ado. Mamie was very upset. She wept and explained that she had sworn never to leave me.

Dear Mamie. I knew she would do that.

“One of the mob threw a stone at her,” Lucy said.

“At Mamie!” I cried in horror.

“It was all right. She was not hurt. It just knocked her cap off and the man who had thrown it was killed on the spot. One of the soldiers drew his sword and ran it through the man’s body. Then, weeping, Mamie allowed herself to be put into the barge.”

So that was the end. They had left me.

I could not eat. I could not sleep. I could only think of my dear friends who were lost to me and most of all of my beloved Mamie who, I knew, would be heartbroken.

When Charles came to me I refused to speak to him. I see now how patient he was, how sorry that this had happened; but he was firmly convinced (and Buckingham had made him certain of this) that all the trouble between us came from my French retinue.

I would let him see that their dismissal had made everything more difficult between us.

He told me that all my servants had not gone yet and he was arranging for one of the nurses and Madame Vantelet to stay—also a few of my servants. It was a slight concession for none of these people was particularly close and all held minor posts, so this did little to alleviate my grief.

“I want to see my confessor,” I cried.

I knew that Father Sancy had either gone or was going. He would have a fine story to tell them when he returned to France.

“I will send Father Philip to you,” said Charles.

I brightened a little. I was fond of Father Philip, who was much less stern than Father Sancy, and I would be pleased to see him.

He came and talked to me and we prayed together; he said that there were many crosses to bear in this world and I had just been presented with one of them. I must carry it bravely and keep my eyes on the goal, which was to spread the Truth wherever I was and always remain steadfast in following the true Faith.

I felt much better and later Charles told me that Father Philip might stay.

I was pleased to hear that, but I did not tell Charles so. I felt in no mood to give him any satisfaction.

One of the hardest things to bear was that François de Bassompierre was not entirely on my side. I had expected condolences from him when in desperation the King sent for him to try to reason with me.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “I must talk to you most frankly. I know you will allow me—as a loyal subject of your father and one whom he regarded as a close friend—to say exactly what is in my mind.”

My spirits sank. My experience told me that when people declared they were going to speak frankly something unpleasant was certain to follow.

“I have seen you in the presence of the King,” he went on, “and it appears to me that His Majesty has tried to do everything within his power to make you happy.”

“Such as depriving me of my friends,” I cried petulantly.

“It is the custom when a princess comes to a new country for those who accompanied her on the journey to return in due course to their native land.”

“Why? Why shouldn’t anyone…most of all a queen…keep her friends about her if she wishes to.”

“Because, Majesty, they do not always understand the customs of the new country and it is the duty of a princess to adopt those customs as she has become a member of that country.”

“I am French. I shall never be anything else.”

He sighed. “That I fear is at the root of the trouble.”

“How can you ask me to become one of these people? They are heretics.”

“Adequate arrangements have been made for you to worship as you wish, and I see that the King has kept his word in seeing that these are carried out.”

“And taken away my confessor!”

“I did not think you cared greatly for Father Sancy and Father Philip is left to you.”

I was silent. It was true that I greatly preferred Father Philip to Father Sancy.

“Oh,” I cried. “Can’t you see! I have been robbed of those I loved most.”

“You are thinking of your governess. She understands. She is sad, but she is not lost to you. You can write to each other and no doubt she will pay a visit to these shores at some time and you may come to France. Then you will have an opportunity of meeting.”

I felt exasperated. What compensations were letters and the occasional visit for the hours of confidences and fun which Mamie and I had shared?

Bassompierre went on to lecture me. He could see that the trouble between the King and myself was largely due to my attitude. If I could only be reasonable…try to adjust myself…much progress could be made. The King was fond of me. He wanted to be more fond. He would do a great deal to make me happy, but my demands were childish and he was the King on whom state duties weighed heavily. I was not helping him nor myself by my conduct. I was self-willed, said Bassompierre. My father would not have been pleased with me if he were here today. I was impulsive; I spoke before I thought what I was saying; I must try to curb my temper.

I scowled at him and he went on: “It is not merely yourself you have to consider. Do you realize that your actions are causing strife between France and England?”

“They do not need me to bring strife between them. It has been there for centuries.”

“There was friendship. The marriage was meant to make that firm, and it should have done so, had you behaved in a manner which your great father would have expected you to. Instead you have made this petty war between your faction and that of the King with the result that they are all dismissed…banished…because they have been fomenting strife between you and the King.”

“You think I and my friends are to blame. You should be on my side. I thought you were French and would stand by me.”

“I am French and I will stand by you but there is much you must do for yourself. You must change your attitude toward the King.”

“Shouldn’t he change his toward me?”

Bassompierre sighed. “He is willing to do much for you.”

“Will he send back my friends?”

“You know you ask for the impossible.”

“I never thought you would turn against me.”

He was on his knees, taking my hand and kissing it. He was for me, he declared. He would do anything for me. That was why with great temerity he was telling me exactly what he believed without subterfuge, and he hoped I would see it in the way it was meant and forgive him if he had offended.

He was so handsome, and contrite in a way while adhering to his principles, that I smiled and said: “Get up, François. I know that you do what you do and say for my good. But if only you knew how tired I am of having things done for my good.”

He smiled. I was the dear, adorable child once more.

I was sure he thought that now we had passed through the emotional preliminaries he could talk seriously to me. This he began to do. The situation between England and France was becoming dangerous. The English were very unpopular in France and the return of my attendants had made them more so. Some of them who had served me were circulating rumors about the way in which I was treated in England and my countrymen were becoming incensed.

“If the Duke of Buckingham set foot in France now he would be torn to pieces by the mob.”

“A befitting end for the monster,” I commented.

“And imagine the effect that would have on the King. Why, it could result in war.”

I was silent.

“You see, my dear lady, many eyes are on you and this marriage. Your mother…your brother…they look to you to strengthen the bonds of friendship between the two countries. They will be very sad to hear the stories which your attendants are circulating.”

“It is well that they should know.”

“But you have nothing of which to complain. You have been treated royally. The King has shown you every consideration.”

“By taking away from me those I loved best!”

He was exasperated. “I have explained, my lady, that it is the custom for attendants to return home after a certain period. You cannot say that you—or they—have been ill treated here. Now let me explain what is happening in France. In the villages and the towns they are talking about the ills which have befallen their Princess. They speak as though you have been confined to prison and kept on bread and water.”

“I wouldn’t mind that if I could have Mamie with me.”

“Do try to understand. Let me explain to you that one girl, obviously deranged, has been to a convent in Limoges and asked for shelter there. She called herself the Princesse Henriette de Bourbon and told some garbled story about having escaped from England and cruel King Charles because she was persecuted there in an effort to make her give up her Faith. I can tell you this: Thousands of people are flocking to Limoges to see this girl. They believe her and are crying vengeance on King Charles of England.”

“Surely it is easy to prove she is a fraud.”

“To any who have knowledge of Courts, of course, but these are simple people and she is succeeding in deluding them. The King, your brother, is extremely angry. He has other matters with which to occupy himself. The Huguenots are causing a great deal of trouble.”

“Tell me more of the girl. I should like to see her. Is she like me?”

“She passes herself off well, I hear. She has a certain dignity and seems to know something of the English Court. Your brother has made a declaration that the girl is an impostor and that you are living amicably with your husband in England where you are given every dignity due to a queen.”

I was silent.