“I can see Your Majesty is determined to be kind to me.”
“Would you wish me to dismiss these people, that you might be alone and … rest?”
“Your Majesty is so good to me that I crave a favor.”
“My dear Mademoiselle de Kéroualle, you have given me the great gift of your presence here. Anything you might ask of me would be but small in comparison with what you have given me. And were it not, I have no doubt that I should grant it.”
“I have had a long journey,” said Louise.
“And you are weary. It was thoughtless of me to have given such a banquet so soon. But I wished to make you sure of your welcome.”
“I am indeed grateful for the honor you have shown me, but my lord Arlington and Lady Arlington, who have been so good to me, have placed apartments in their house at my disposal.”
“I am glad my lord Arlington and his lady have been so hospitable,” said Charles a little wryly.
“I am very weary, and I fear that the etiquette of the Court, in my present state, would overtax my strength,” said Louise.
Charles’ glance was ironic. He understood. Louise was jealous of her dignity. She was not to be sent for like any play-actress. She had to be wooed.
Inwardly he grimaced. But he said with the utmost charm: “I understand full well. Go to the Arlingtons. His lady will make you very comfortable. And I trust that ere long you will be ready to exchange Lord Arlington’s house for my palace of Whitehall.”
Louise thanked him charmingly.
She believed she had won the first round. The King was eager for her; but he was realizing that a grand lady such as Louise de Kéroualle must be courted before she was won.
Louise stayed with the Arlingtons. The King visited her frequently, but she did not become his mistress. Charles was often exasperated, but Louise attracted him with her perfect manners and babyish looks. There was in her attitude a certain promise which indicated that, once the formalities had been observed, he would find the waiting well worthwhile. Louise remembered other ladies from the past who, by careful tactics, had won high places for themselves. Elizabeth Woodville in her dealings with Edward IV. Anne Boleyn with Henry VIII. The latter was not a very happy example, but Louise would not be guilty of that Queen’s follies; nor did Charles resemble in any way the Tudor King. The poverty of Louise’s youth, the knowledge, which was always before her, that she must make her own way for herself had fired her with great ambition, so that no sooner did one goal appear in sight than she must immediately aim at another. King’s mistress had been the first goal. She could achieve that at any moment. Now she was trying for another: King’s wife. It might seem fantastic and wild. But there was the example of Frances Stuart. Moreover the Queen was ailing, and she could not produce an heir. These were the exact circumstances which had helped to put Anne Boleyn on the throne. Anne had had the good sense to withhold herself for a long time from an enamored monarch, but after marriage she had lost that good sense. Louise would never lose hers.
So she held back. She reminded the King by a hundred gestures that she was a great lady; she hinted that she found him very attractive but, because she was not only a great lady but a virtuous one, the fact that he was married prevented her from yielding to his desires.
Charles hid his growing exasperation under great charm of manner. He was ready to play her game, for he knew she would eventually surrender. Why else should she have come to England? And while he waited, he amused himself with others. Occasionally he visited Barbara, Moll, and Nell; Chaffinch continued to bring certain ladies up to his apartments by way of the privy stairs. Thus he could enjoy the game of waiting which he must play with Louise.
Apartments were furnished for her at Whitehall; beautiful French tapestries adorned the walls; there was furniture decorated with the new marqueterie; there were exquisite carpets, cabinets from Japan, vases of china and silver, tables of marble, the newest kind of clocks with pendulums, silver candelabra and everything that was exquisite.
Louise moved into these apartments, but she made it clear to the King that such a great and virtuous lady as herself could only receive him at one time of the day. This was nine o’clock in the morning.
Colbert de Croissy, the French ambassador, watched uneasily. He even remonstrated with her. He greatly feared that she would try the King’s patience too far.
Louise was determined.
She would serve, not only the cause of France, but her own ambition.
Those three women who had been the King’s leading mistresses watched the newcomer with apprehension. They knew that they owed the King’s occasional company to the continued reserve of the Frenchwoman. They knew that, once she decided to surrender, the King’s interest in them would wane. And what would be the effect of that waning? Barbara knew that she was fast losing her hold on the King. Her beauty was no longer fresh and appealing; her rages did not diminish with her beauty; she had taken so many lovers that she had become notorious on that account. Her adventures with Charles Hart and a rope-dancer named Jacob Hall had created the greatest scandal, because, it was said, she had chosen these men as lovers in retaliation for the King’s preoccupation with Moll Davies and Nell Gwyn. Barbara still clung to her waning influence with the King, knowing that he would still be prepared to give way in some respect, if not for love of her, for love of peace.
Moll Davies was rarely visited now. She had her fine house and her pension, but the King was growing tired of her gentle qualities. It was due to his habit of “not discarding” that she remained his mistress.
As for Nell, her baby took up a great deal of her time, but her preoccupation with the little boy made her thoughts turn often to his father. The King must not tire of her; she must cease to be as frivolous-minded as she had previously been. There was the boy to think of.
“I’ll get a fine title for you, my little man,” she would whisper to the child. “You shall be a Duke, no less.” She would laugh into the big wondering eyes which watched her so intently. “You … a Duke … that slut Nelly’s brat—a royal Duke. Who would have believed it?”
But dukedoms were not easily come by.
The King was delighted with the child. Those were pleasant days when he came to visit Nell and took the boy in his arms.
“There is no doubt,” cried Nell, leaning over him like any proud wife and mother, “that this boy is a Stuart. See that nose! Those eyes!”
“Then God have mercy on him!” said the King.
“Come, my little one,” said Nell. “Smile for Papa.”
The child surveyed the King with solemn eyes.
“Not yet, eh, Sir!” murmured Charles. “First wait and see what manner of man this is who has fathered you.”
“The best in the world,” said Nell lightly.
The King turned and looked at her.
“Od’s Fish!” he cried. “I believe you mean that, Nelly.”
“Nay!” cried Nell, ashamed of her own emotion. “I am sowing the first seeds which will flower into a dukedom for our boy.”
“And strawberry leaves for yourself! Oh, Nell, you go the way of all the others.”
Nell snatched the child from his father’s arms and began dancing round the apartment with him.
“What do I want for you, my son? A coronet, a great title, all that belongs by right to a King’s bastard. Already, my son, you have the King’s nose, the King’s eyes, and the King’s name. Od’s Fish! I trust His Majesty will not think you adequately endowed with these, for they will make little story in the world, I suspect.”