I knew he was thinking of Charles, as I was, and it was because of him that James would see his son.

HE DID SEE MONMOUTH, but I knew that the interview would not save him. James was right when he implied that the young man would always be a menace. There was only one way for a wise monarch to deal with such as Monmouth, for he could never be trusted not to rouse rebellion again.

Monmouth was not of the stuff of which leaders are made. James told me what had taken place.

It had been pathetic. Charles had said God help England when James became King. What would he have said of Monmouth?

James told me that Monmouth had begged for his life. He declared he had been led astray. If his life were spared he would become a Catholic. That was the ultimate betrayal of all those men who had fought with him…those poor peasants who had picked up their scythes to fight for him and what they believed was the true faith.

How could he?

I could hear Charles making excuses. “He is a poor frightened boy. He is fighting for his life. He will jettison everything for it…his faith, his hopes of the crown, his charity toward those poor ignorant souls who came to fight with him.”

Alas, poor Jemmy!

James had granted the interview but refused to save his life.

They took him from his prison to the Tower and before he laid his head upon the block he told the watching crowd that he was a member of the Church of England.

Jack Ketch, whether by accident or design, did not make a clean job of the execution. He struck five blows at Monmouth’s head before it was severed from his body.

And so…the end of Jemmy’s dreams.


* * *

IMMEDIATELY AFTER the battle of Sedgemoor, the judges, led by George Jeffreys, set out on the circuit of the West Country.

I believe that those trials, which became known as the Bloody Assizes, will never be forgotten.

Jeffreys was at his most brutal and I was overcome with pity for those simple young men who, with their scythes and pitchforks, had joined Monmouth’s cause in an excess of religious fervor. Little could they have thought when they boldly went into action what their end would be.

Jeffreys delighted in torment and never before had he shown such cruelty as he did toward those people. Blithely he sentenced them to death, and, what seemed to me even worse, more than eight hundred were either sold into slavery or whipped and imprisoned.

The lamentation throughout those small towns of the West Country was great; and it was said that those with wealthy relations and friends, who could pay Jeffreys for the favor of saving their lives, were the only ones who escaped.

The rumor was that Jeffreys emerged from the Bloody Assizes a much richer man than he went in.

Was this the manner in which people were to be treated under the new reign? King Charles would never have allowed it. And when Jeffreys came to London he was greeted warmly by the King who thanked him for his services and awarded him the post of Chancellor.

When I looked back over those years, I came to the conclusion that that may have hastened the King’s downfall.

THE WARMING-PAN BABY

THE DAYS SEEMED LONG. DURING EVERY ONE OF THEM I thought of Charles and wished that I were back in the past, even those times when I had had to watch his dalliances with his mistresses. I would rather endure that jealous resentment, that heartbreak, than be without him.

I tried hard to find compensations. I was thankful for the kindness of the King and Queen. I could sympathize with the Queen, who had had several children, all of whom had died. An heir was desperately needed. Why was it that queens were so tormented in this way? How well I understood the feelings of Mary Beatrice.

James had made it clear that I was the second lady of the court, preceded only by the Queen. He was eager to let me know he remembered his promise to Charles. He was at heart a sentimental, kindly man — but alas for him, not meant to be a king.

I was fond of music and found solace in it. I gave concerts at Somerset House. I had always liked to dance, although I was not graceful enough to excel at it, so we often danced. I was passionately fond of card games and I indulged in all those pastimes more frequently than I had during Charles’s lifetime.

Lord Feversham was in constant attendance, and was a great comfort to me, until I suddenly realized what malicious interpretation could be put on an innocent friendship.

I discovered this when I heard two of the lower servants below my window — out of sight of me, as I was of them.

They were discussing some incident which had happened among my ladies.

“And where was the Dowager Queen?” asked one.

“With the Dowager King, of course. Could you not guess?”

They giggled.

“The Dowager King?” I was bewildered.

Then I understood. They meant Lord Feversham. So that was what they called him. I was horrified. Memories of Edward Montague and the vicious gossip about my friendship with him came back to me.

Of course, I did see Lord Feversham often; his company was agreeable to me. And they had noticed.

I felt sick and angry. What lies were they building up? To how many in my household was Lord Feversham known as the “Dowager King”?

I thought then: What is there for me here? They were going to spoil my friendship with Lord Feversham now. They were going to whisper all sorts of slander about me.

Charles had dismissed Montague, not because he believed in the insinuations, but because of the harm they could do to me.

I made up my mind in that moment. I was going home. I could no longer endure it here.

But could I find peace in my native land? The King of Portugal was my brother. It would be a sorrowful homecoming, because of memories of my mother…and poor Alfonso. But Pedro was my brother. Indeed I often thought of him as my little brother, and there was a family bond between us.

On impulse I sat down and wrote to him.

I told him I wanted to come home.


* * *

PEDRO’S RESPONSE was immediate.

He wrote that Count Castelmelhor would be coming to England to arrange my departure.

On the death of Alfonso, Castelmelhor had returned to Portugal, made his peace with Pedro and was now in his service. I looked forward to seeing my old friend; but I had written to Pedro on impulse and was beginning to regret it.

For so long this country had been my home. The King and Queen were kind to me. I looked forward to my concerts…and my card games.

Manners and customs were easygoing here. I remembered the formality of life in Portugal. Did I want to leave familiar surroundings for somewhere which after all these years would be a strange place to me?

When the Count arrived in England, I was still very uncertain. I had come to the conclusion that I had taken the remark I had overheard about the “Dowager King” too seriously. It was merely the idle chatter of servants.

How understanding the Count was! I was able to open my heart to him, and he knew so much of what had happened to me. He reminded me that Portugal was not a rich country; one might say it was impoverished. As Queen of England, I should have certain revenues, he presumed. I told him that I had, although the marriage settlement, which had been promised to me, had never been paid in full or punctually. A great deal was owing to me. The Count said this should be paid in full before I left the country.

I had not thought about the money before, and I think I was so uncertain about leaving that I grasped every excuse to delay my departure.

This opened up a certain controversy. The Earl of Halifax, who was looking after my financial affairs, approached the Earl of Clarendon — who was the son of the first Earl whom I had known on my arrival. There was a suggestion from Halifax that Clarendon had been guilty of falsifying the accounts.

Clarendon, who was, of course, the King’s brother-in-law, immediately put the matter before James. The result was that the King summoned me to his presence.

As soon as I saw him I noticed a coldness in his manner toward me.

“It surprises me,” he said, “that you should have decided to leave the country without consulting me.”

“Your Majesty, I thought the matter would have been of little concern to you, so weighed down by state matters as you are at this time.”

“Of a certainty it is of concern to me. So you wish to leave us.”

“I am not sure,” I said.

“Yet you have written to your brother and he has sent Count Castelmelhor.”

“I wrote to him in a moment of despondency. They come to me now and then, and I felt I had to get away…to start anew.”

He looked at me with some compassion and I think he understood, for he said, more gently: “And now you are unsure?”

“Yes.”

“And this case…against my brother-in-law, is it wise?”

“They seem to have taken it out of my hands.”

“Clarendon has been accused of misappropriation of funds.”

“I did not wish to accuse him.”

“You will be ill advised to proceed with this case. But it is the law that you may do so, and I have no right to interfere with the law.”

“I understand,” I said.

“And, Catherine,” he went on, “it is for you to decide whether you wish to return to Portugal or stay. For my part, you will be welcome here for as long as you want to remain.”


* * *

ALTHOUGH CLARENDON had been found guity of misappropriation of funds, the lawsuit was a mistake. It branded me as a greedy, grasping woman — although I had only asked for what was legally mine.

People’s attitude changed toward me. I was no longer regarded as the meek woman who had taken a complacent attitude toward her husband’s infidelities, and sought to be on good terms with those about her. However, to be truthful, I did need the money which was due to me.

I had begun to realize that I must make provision for myself, for if I did decide to go to Portugal, I must be in a position to do so in some sort of comfort. Charles had been careless about money and consequently he had been in perpetual need of it.

I determined I should not be like that. I had to go back to Portugal and I did not want to throw myself on the charity of my brother.

If that was being hard and grasping — then I was. But in my own defense, I must say that I did not want to be a burden to others.

But the King, sadly, remained a little cooler than he had been toward me. And I think the people were only too ready to criticize me.

So…I would say that the court case was a mistake and I should not have been carried along by my advisors.


* * *

IN JUNE OF THAT YEAR 1688, three years after the death of Charles, the Queen was about to give birth to a child.

There was an air of excitement everywhere. This child was of the greatest importance. We were fast moving toward that situation which bedevilled so many kings and queens — the inability to produce an heir. Therefore there were great expectations and fears of disappointment.

It was very important that the birth of the child should be witnessed, for the country was at this time in a state of unrest.

James’s rule was giving cause for dissastisfaction and uneasiness. There was too much favor shown to Catholics and people were constantly referring to the golden days when King Charles was on the throne.

It seemed that Charles’s prophecies about James were coming true.

Accompanied by one or two of the married ladies of my household, I came to the place and was taken to the bedchamber where the birth was to take place.

What an ordeal for Mary Beatrice, to have her agonies witnessed by so many. But it was the royal custom, and in this case certainly proved to be a necessity.

How glad I was when at last I heard the cry of the child, and to my great joy, and that of everyone, it was a boy and looked likely to survive.

He was named James Francis Edward; and seven days after his birth he was christened and I was appointed his godmother.


* * *

IT WAS SOON AFTER the birth that the wicked rumors started.

There were many who were planning that the King should go, and, now that he had a son to follow him, there could be difficulties, for if the father were deposed, the son would be there to take the crown.