So he came out looking beautiful as he always had and without showing a tremor of fear.

I could imagine his looks of contempt for the bewigged and masked murderers who had not the courage to do the deed in the open but must cower behind disguises.

The executioner knelt and asked forgiveness.

Charles’s reply was quiet and dignified. “I forgive no subject of mine who comes hither to shed my blood.”

When he stepped up to the scaffold there was a terrible hush in the crowd. The executioner in a quiet and respectful voice asked him to push his hair under his cap.

This he quietly did.

He said in a clear voice: “I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown.” Then he took off his coat and doublet.

He asked the executioner to make sure that the block was firm. “Now,” he said, “I will say a short prayer in silence and when I lift my hands I shall be ready for you to strike.”

That was the end.

My Charles, King, husband, lover, friend and martyr was dead.

They told me that a groan was heard through the crowd of people and that there was a terrible sense of foreboding in Whitehall that day.

I had to shut myself away for a while. I could not bear to see my attendants, let alone hear them speak to me. There was so much to remind me.

My poor little Henriette, who was not yet five years old, was quite bewildered. She would watch me and her eyes would fill with tears.

“I am doing no good to her and none to myself,” I told Lady Morton. “She would be better with you alone.”

Lady Morton had too much good sense to deny this and so I decided that for a while I would seek the peace and solace of my favorite Carmelite convent in the Faubourg St. Jacques. I gave my daughter into the care of Lady Morton with instructions that she should look after the child’s creature comforts while Father Cyprien should see to her spiritual welfare. I thought I could not do better than that and I gave myself up to meditation and prayer and lived a life of seclusion governed by bells. I needed it. I was angry with the Almighty for what seemed like indifference to my suffering and for permitting the cruel murder of my husband. I knew I should not complain; it was His will; but I railed against such treatment and I could not be reconciled until I had wrestled with myself.

I dressed in black, which I swore I would do to the end of my life. I would mourn for Charles as long as I lived. I looked very like one of the nuns of the convent in my long rustling skirts and I wore a cap with a widow’s peak which came over my forehead and with a black veil cascading from the back.

When I had been a few weeks in the convent and was beginning to accept the fact that I must learn to live without Charles, Father Cyprien came to see me and gave me such a lecture that I felt like boxing the man’s ears, priest though he was. Then I knew I was becoming myself once more.

“What are you doing shutting yourself away from the world?” demanded Father Cyprien. “Have you forgotten that you have a son and that he has to regain his throne? Have you forgotten that you are the daughter of the great Henri IV? Is it fitting that you should spend your days thus in idleness when there is work to be done?”

“Have I not done enough…and to what avail?” I cried.

“Your father did not give up in his struggles. When he suffered temporary defeat he fought again and so came to greater glory.”

“Murdered,” I reminded him, “as my husband was…but differently. I’d rather Charles had gone by the knife of a madman than the action of coldblooded murderers and pilferers of his throne.”

“That is more like you. Your household needs you. Have you forgotten your young daughter? She pines for you. And what of your son? You must bring Charles to Paris. There must be no more delay. He has a throne to fight for.”

Two days later I left the convent.

Father Cyprien was right. I should be planning. It did wonders for me. I was alive again. I was going to live through my children. I was blessed in them. Charles was a son a mother could be proud of; James had come to Paris from Holland; he was good looking and his manners were as charming as those of his brother Charles. I had always insisted on impeccable manners. It was strange but loving my husband as I had I was able to see where he had failed. That aloof manner of his had alienated people and it may have been one of the causes why so many turned against him. Rulers must not keep themselves too much apart from their subjects; it was not easy to keep the balance between royalty and the necessary bonhomie needed to win people. My father had had it to a great degree; my son Charles had it; James less so, but it was there and he was young yet.

Mary had been a wonderful friend to us and she and the Prince of Orange, who were so devoted to each other, had shown us comforting hospitality and had done everything to help us. I had my precious Henriette with me now but the two who worried me were little Elizabeth and Henry—both in the hands of the Roundheads. If I could only have them with me I should be greatly relieved.

What we must do was to get Charles fighting for his throne, and the first thing was for him to come to me here in Paris.

I wrote to him. I had been able to redeem some of my rubies when I first came to France and was hoarding them for the day when I would sell or pawn them to raise money for my son’s army as I used to for my husband’s.

Charles must marry and his bride must be someone who could help him regain his throne.

I was pleased when the Grande Mademoiselle called on me at the Louvre. She was very gracious to me and condoled with me on my loss. I tried not to give way to emotion before her for she was not exactly a comfortable person, very different from warmhearted Queen Anne who had been so good to me when I needed help.

I said: “My son will be coming to me in Paris soon.”

“I was under the impression that your son was with you now, Madame,” she said.

“You are referring to my son James, the Duke of York. I meant the King.”

“Oh yes…of course. He will be King now…if he can regain his throne.”

“There is no doubt that he will do that,” I said sharply.

“I am glad to hear it.”

Her eyes were speculative. She could not deceive me, this sly Grande Mademoiselle. She had suffered two disappointments. The King of Spain had married his niece, so poor Mademoiselle was not to be Queen of Spain. The Emperor of Austria had chosen one of his cousins. Mademoiselle’s nose was decidedly out of joint. It might well be that she would not be quite so supercilious now regarding her cousin Charles. It was true he had yet to regain his throne but having seen those of Spain and Austria slip out of her grasp, the ambitious creature might be feeling she could not be too selective. Moreover she must be about twenty-two years old—quite mature for a marriageable princess. She had been considering herself the most delectable marriage prospect for a very long time. Was she beginning to doubt?

“When will he be in Paris?” She was clearly trying to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

“Very soon, I promise you.”

“You mean you promise yourself, dear aunt, not me.”

Oh, she was an insolent creature! If it had not been for her money I would not have received her, let alone considered her as a daughter-in-law.

Charles did not immediately respond to my summons. First he made excuses and then he merely said he was not yet ready.

I was getting frantic and I suggested to Henry Jermyn that he approach Mademoiselle and make an offer on Charles’s behalf for her hand.

Henry was a little reluctant and wondered if it were wise but I insisted. I had to keep events moving for while something was going on, it was balm to my wounds. Only while I was absorbed in some project could I forget that Charles was dead.

Henry came back in some dismay, and reported what had happened.

“I told her that when he had seen her Charles had been so overcome by admiration that he had become speechless. Mademoiselle has a sharp tongue. She retorted: ‘Oh, I thought that was due to his ignorance of the French language. He did not converse at all. In my opinion the inability to converse detracts from a personality more than anything else.’”

“She can be a most unpleasant creature.”

“She has always had a high opinion of herself.”

“I thought that she might have been a little more humble after the snubs she received from Spain and Austria.”

“There had been no commitments for the King of Spain or the Emperor of Austria to enter an alliance with her,” Henry reminded me.

“No, but it was an understood possibility. Go on.”

“Then she said that she would prefer to discuss the matter with Charles himself and could not commit herself to a go-between. She added that since Charles was so much in love with her he would doubtless change his religion. If he did that she would be assured of his devotion and then would begin to consider the matter.”

“The minx! She knows that if he changed his religion he would have no chance of regaining his throne.”

“Dear Madam, I fear there is nothing we can do but await the arrival of the King.”

It was summer before Charles arrived in Paris. I thought he looked very impressive with his tall figure and ugly good-natured face, his musical voice and his kingly bearing. There was a certain aloofness in his manner toward me. I realized later that it was his way of telling me that he was going to decide his own affairs for himself. My little Henriette was beside herself with joy and it gave me great pleasure to see the affection between those two. She leaped into his arms and clasped hers about his neck. She was his little Minette and he was more than an adored brother; in her eyes he was a god.

It was pleasant to watch; but I was impatient to put Mademoiselle’s vast fortune to good use in restoring the crown.

I dismissed everyone so that we were alone and told him that Mademoiselle was more than ready to listen to reason.

“Of course she will try to test you and suggest that you change your religion for her sake, but you must not take that too seriously.”

“I take it very seriously,” retorted Charles. “And the answer is that I have no intention of making it impossible for me to return to England as King.”

“I know. But laugh it off, Charles. Carry her off her feet. She is, I sense, a somewhat anxious young lady. The King of Spain and the Emperor have just chosen elsewhere in spite of her fortune.”

I had noticed a young woman in the company who had come from Holland with him. She was very handsome in a bold and brazen way. I had asked questions about her and had been given evasive answers, but in view of what I knew of Charles and his exploits in Jersey I began to have suspicions.

I felt a twinge of uneasiness when I heard that she had a baby—a child of two or three months.

“By the way, Charles,” I said, “who is that handsome young woman who seems to have a place among your attendants?”

“You must mean Lucy,” he said.

“And who, may I ask, is Lucy?”

“You may certainly ask, Mam,” said Charles putting on a regal air, reminding me that although I was a Dowager Queen he was the King. “Her name is Lucy Walter and she is a special friend of mine.”

“A special friend?”

“You heard aright, Mam. That is what I said.”

“Oh…and the child?”

“Mine, Mam. Mine.”

“Charles, this is….”

He lifted his shoulders and smiled at me. “He is a very amiable child.”

“Your father never behaved like this.”

“No, Mam. And I must never behave as he did.”

I felt as though he had struck me across the face. He was repentant at once for he had loved his father; but he was right, of course. Charles’s behavior had been in a great measure responsible for what had happened to him.

He said gently: “Lucy is a pleasant girl. She is devoted to me and I to her. She is a great diversion.”

“There was the Jersey girl.”

“Also a charming creature.”

“Charles, you must be more serious.”

“I assure you, Mam, no one could be more serious than I. I have one ambition and that is to regain my throne.”

“Mademoiselle must not hear of this Lucy Walter.”

He lifted his shoulders.

“Charles, do you understand this match could be of the greatest use to you. Her fortune…”

“I know her fortune is great.”

“Then Charles, you must woo her. It should not be difficult. She is the most arrogant conceited creature on Earth.”