“Yes, and we foiled them, did we not? This is more serious. There is no one in view. They cannot say it is the King’s desire for a new wife. The Cabal will choose her when the time comes.”

“The Cabal!”

“Oh yes. They are for it…most of them. My friend Buckingham…Arlington…it is because of James.”

“You mean the Duke of York, or…”

“Or Monmouth? Both of them. They will not have the Duke of York. They will not have a Catholic on the throne. On the other hand there is Monmouth. Now if he were not a bastard, there would be no question of James. But Monmouth is a bastard, in spite of all his efforts to be the Prince of Wales.”

“Is this true…?”

“Madam, it is for you to believe or disbelieve. I only come to warn you.”

“Why?” I asked.

She smiled at me conspiratorially. “Your Majesty, I have always had a great respect for you, ever since you came to our shores. It would grieve me greatly to see you…replaced.”

I understood. She visualized a new queen…someone young and possibly beautiful…someone who insisted on clearing the harem…reigning supreme.

When I came, she had had a great hold on the King. That was not very strong now. She was unsure of her position. That was why she wanted my help. She felt it was easier for her to maintain her position if I held mine.

I had to listen to her with all attention. The Cabal was urging this, trying to persuade the King. There must be an heir, they were saying. The country will not accept the Duke of York. There was young Monmouth…a Protestant…a bastard, but preferable to York.

“They cannot have Monmouth,” I said. “That would be unacceptable.”

“No…unless he…But there you are. They are saying that the King must have a divorce and marry a woman who will give him a son.”

I sat back, feeling faint.

She was smiling at me. “There is one other thing. The King might announce that he was married to Lucy Walter.”

“Married Lucy Walter?”

“Monmouth’s mother. If the King had married her, Monmouth would be the legitimate heir. It’s one way out.”

“But the King was not married to Lucy Walter.”

“They were on the continent. It would not be difficult to find evidence.”

“False evidence?”

She smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“Why are you telling me this, Lady Castlemaine?” I asked.

“So that you may take action.”

“What action?”

“The King has a great regard for you. I am suggesting that you speak to him. He wavers…. He knows that York will be a disaster. He knows of Monmouth’s ambitions. He realizes how all this could be set aside if only he had a son. He can beget handsome children.” She preened herself a little, no doubt thinking of those she had produced. “You see his predicament. You must make up his mind for him.”

“How?”

“I believe that if you pleaded with him…made him understand how much this means to you…if he knew how much you cared for him…which you do, I know…if he knew how desolate you would be…I think he would turn away from the persuasion of his ministers. I know the King well. This is a chance….”

“It is good of you to be concerned for me.”

She smiled at me. She did not say that she was thinking of her own advantage. She did not want to lose the King entirely, and she knew she could do so if there were a new wife.

I thanked her and she left. I sat down in desolation to contemplate the situation.

I knew that what she had told me was the truth.


* * *

WHEN I WAS ALONE WITH CHARLES, I came straight to the point.

“I have heard disquieting news,” I said.

“There is nothing unusual in that,” he replied. “The news is always disquieting now.”

“About this proposed divorce,” I went on.

His face was serious suddenly. “What have you heard?” he asked sharply.

“That — as you did once before — you are considering divorcing me so that you can marry a new wife…younger, I presume, and one who can give you and the country an heir.”

He was silent for a moment, then he said: “This has been a suggestion which was presented to me.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

“Do you want to be divorced?”

I felt my face crumpling. He put his arms about me and held me close to him.

“You see,” he said. “It is this devilish business of James and his religion. This is what has set all this trouble about our ears. They do not want James. I don’t blame them. Poor James. He stumbles around…tripping headlong into trouble. Why did he want to do this? Why couldn’t he have kept his religion secret? And then there is Jemmy. He is an ambitious boy. You see, Catherine, I am beset on all sides.”

“And you think that by ridding yourself of me you will settle these difficulties?”

“I should be heart-broken if you were taken from me.”

“Please, Charles,” I said, “this is a time for plain speaking.”

“I am speaking plain. I am speaking from my heart.”

“But this is a matter for heads, not hearts. They want a son…your son…and they think I cannot get one. It may be they are right. And you are a lusty begetter of sons. I do not know how many. Do you?”

“Let me tell you this, Catherine. I never want you to leave me.”

“But you will have so many consolations.”

“I am myself, I fear, and that is not a very noble thing to be. I know that. I am what I have always been and was born to be. That does not mean I do not love you.”

“It is a theme I have often heard. It is a pleasure to hear it, but it is a fiction…a romantic story. It is not real.”

“It is real,” he said. “They are talking about it incessantly. To listen to them is like being at the playhouse.”

“It is the Cabal.”

He nodded. “They do not want James. That’s the heart of the matter. They’d rather have Jemmy. He’s a bastard, but a popular bastard.”

“How could that possibly be?”

“If he were legitimate.”

“But he is not.”

“They plan to make him so.”

“How could that be?”

“Oh…a little box suddenly found…somewhere far away…on the continent, of course. In this box would be a document showing that I married Lucy Walter, Jemmy’s mother, and therefore he is the rightful heir to the throne.”

“But there is no box and you were not married to Lucy Walter.”

“A trifling detail in the minds of these schemers. If I give my permission they will find the box with the appropriate documents.”

“And you would allow this?”

He shook his head. “Never,” he said emphatically.

“So then the alternative…you will agree to this divorce.”

He took my face in his hands. “Do you want to go away from me, Catherine? God knows I would not blame you if you did. I deserve to lose you.”

All my defenses had gone. I could only stand there with the tears on my cheeks. I had to tell the truth. I had to jettison my pride.

“I never want to leave you, Charles,” I said. “I love you.”

“You must regret…”

“Never. Never. I would rather be here with you…whatever you did…than anywhere else on earth.”

He kissed me with tenderness. “Do you think I would ever agree to part from you?” he said. “I know it is difficult to understand. I know my weaknesses, but whatever I am, Catherine, I love you…with all my heart and while you want to stay with me you shall.”

I was happy. He did love me, I knew…in his way.


* * *

I HAD REASON to be grateful to Lady Castlemaine, because I believed that, had I not spoken to Charles and made him aware of the deep affection I had for him — and perhaps reminded him of his for me — he might have been persuaded to divorce me for the sake of the country.

Lady Castlemaine had naturally been thinking of her own interests. She could not have believed that the end was in sight for her.

She was growing old; her reputation had become scandalous, even for this era; and she had ceased to be amusing.

One of the prime movers in the plot to persuade Charles to divorce me was my old enemy Buckingham.

He was a strange man; there were so many contrasts in his nature. He was clever, erudite, witty and brilliant. At the same time he could be foolishly impulsive, reckless beyond belief and could conceive hare-brained schemes which most people would have seen from the moment of their inception were doomed to failure.

He was fierce in anger and if he thought anyone was working against him he would go to any lengths to destroy that person. He had shown this in the case of Shrewsbury, whom he had murdered…for it was murder, even though Shrewsbury had agreed to face him in the duel which had resulted in his death. Buckingham was quite outrageous — not unlike his kinswoman, Lady Castlemaine. It was said that after the duel, Lady Shrewsbury’s page-boy’s garments were splashed with her husband’s blood and the pair made love while she was wearing them.

Of course, there were many stories about Buckingham, but I believed some of them were true.

Ashley and Lauderdale were his special allies in the Cabal. In fact, people said that the Cabal was split and there were two factions. These three had schemed for the divorce. The main reason was not their antipathy to me, for to them I was of little importance, just a pawn in the game. The real enemy was James, Duke of York, and they were determined at all costs to prevent his coming to the throne. The best way of doing this was of course for Charles to have an heir. That was why they planned my exit from the scene, for it seemed unlikely that I should have a healthy child.

After that scene with me, the King had firmly said that he had no intention of divorcing me; and Buckingham was furious.

It was impossible to keep secrets from him, for he had his spies everywhere. He had discovered that Lady Castlemaine had visited me, and that after her visit I had spoken to the King.

Buckingham immediately understood Lady Castlemaine’s reasons for not wanting a change. Or it may have been that he had taxed her with interfering. I am sure she would have quickly lost her temper and told him of her interview with me. She would see no reason to keep up a pretence with Buckingham, and would doubtless have told him to keep out of her affairs. So…Buckingham was intent on revenge.

He knew that Barbara entertained handsome young men in her lodgings and, as Barbara had once in the case of Frances Stuart, he had the idea of taking the King to visit her, catching her in a compromising situation.

He therefore suggested that it would be amusing to call on Barbara unexpectedly, and Charles allowed himself to go along.

I heard the story of what happened. It was passed on by the servants and there were several versions, but they all agreed on the salient points.

When the King and Buckingham arrived, Mrs. Sarah was in a state of great dismay. She knew, of course, that Barbara was entertaining that evening and it was no time to let visitors in, particularly the King. According to the stories, Mrs. Sarah blustered and insisted that Lady Castlemaine was ill and could see nobody. I could imagine Buckingham’s response to that. He pushed Mrs. Sarah aside and bounded into Barbara’s bedroom.

At the door of the room Buckingham stood, the King beside him. On the bed, in the most compromising position, was Barbara with a young ensign.

The young man was known to the King because his sister Arabella Churchill was the mistress of the Duke of York. He was John Churchill, who had been a page of the Duke of York while his sister had been lady-in-waiting to Anne Hyde. The Churchills had been loyal during the Civil War, hence the favor shown to them.

Arabella had caused quite a stir, for she was the most unlikely girl to have been noticed by the Duke. But then everyone knew the Duke’s strange tastes. I had never seen her, but I had heard she was tall and thin, all skin and bone, someone had remarked, and not in the least beautiful. But she had apparently pleased the Duke, for she had had a child by him and was still in favor. Charles was always amused by James’s poor taste in women. However, this was the girl’s young brother, and he was destined for promotion and he would get it, people said, as long as his sister continued to please the Duke.

I could imagine the young man’s terror when he saw the King, his hope of advancement doubtless evaporating.

He did not know what to do. Half naked as he was, he leaped from the bed and jumped out of the window.