“Why should I not have tutors for them?”
“It is for you to say.”
When the King left Nell, she was disturbed.
She found the boys playing with Mrs. Turner, their governess, in charge of them. They ran to her as she entered.
“Mama,” they cried. “Here is Mama, come to sing and dance for us.”
Nell had rarely felt less like singing and dancing.
She dismissed Mrs. Turner and hugged the boys. They were so beautiful, she thought. They had an air of royalty which, no matter what education they received, must surely carry them to greatness. Charles was the image of his father. My darling, darling Earl of Burford, thought Nell; and little James? Nay, he had not the same air as his brother. There were times when Nell thought she saw her mother in him. This was not a new idea. She had settled her mother in a house in Pimlico, where she was very contented to be. Nell did not want her mother to influence those two precious lives.
“Mama,” said Lord Burford, “are you sad?”
“Nay … nay, my little lord. I’m not sad. How could I be when I have two such precious lambs?” She kissed them tenderly. “Would you like to go to France?” she asked abruptly.
“Where’s France?” asked Lord Beauclerk.
“Across the water,” said his brother. “’Tis a grand, beautiful place. Papa lived there a long time.”
“I want to live there,” said little James.
“Is Papa coming with us?” asked Charles.
“No,” said Nell. “If you went, you’d have to go alone.”
“Without you?” said Charles.
She nodded.
“Then I won’t go,” he answered haughtily—royally, thought Nell. The Divine Right of the adored child shining in his eyes.
She thought, Mr. Otway shall be his tutor. Poor Tom Otway, he’ll be glad of a roof to his head and his food each day.
Little James had taken her hand and was staring into space. He was picturing himself in France.
Nell thought: Lord Beauclerk would not feel the break so much. Perhaps he should go to France. It is more important for a young son to have that air of nobility. Honors may not come so easily to him as to his brother. Nell snatched him up suddenly and held him tightly in her arms. I can’t let him go, she told herself. He may be my lord Beauclerk, but he’s my baby.
Charles was relieved to have the troublemakers in the Tower. Their lodgings there were comfortable enough; they were allowed to have their own servants to wait upon them; they received visitors; in fact they lived like the noble lords they were; there was only one thing they lacked, and that was freedom.
Charles trusted none. To Danby, to Louise, he listened with sympathy; he visited Nell’s house and talked with the utmost friendship to her Whig friends. But all the time he was playing the secret game. He had one great desire—to rule his country without the help of Parliament. Parliament, with its opposing parties, made continual trouble. The Whigs slandered the Tories and the Tories the Whigs. They were more concerned with their petty hatred for each other than their love of their country. Charles loved his country (as he would have been the first to admit, loving his country was tantamount to loving himself) and he was determined to use all his skill—which was considerable when he brought it into play—to prevent himself ever going on his wanderings again.
He supported Danby because Danby was a wizard who had managed his financial affairs as they had never been managed before. He did not believe he could afford to do without Danby. For the first time since he had come to England he felt his affairs to be in good order. He placated Louise because she was Louis’ spy, and it was of the utmost importance that he should keep Louis’ friendship. The bribes he was taking from France now, in exchange for which he kept aloof from the Continental war, were the very reason for his country’s prosperity. Charles had always known that the country which stood aloof from war and concentrated on trade was the prosperous one. It was pleasant therefore to receive Louis’ bribes for keeping a peace which in any case he had intended to keep. He pretended to take Louise’s advice. Poor Louise! She must please Louis. He had to satisfy her in some way, and for the life of him he could not bring himself to visit her as often as he once had.
As for Nell, her dabbling in politics amused him so much that he could not keep away from her salon. She had as much understanding of politics as Old Rowley the stallion and Old Rowley the goat—who shared his nickname. Politics to Nell meant one thing: Who gives a dukedom to my lord Burford and makes the noble Earl’s mother a Countess, shall have my support. Danby had been against elevating Nell—doubtless on account of Louise—therefore Nell was Danby’s enemy.
So while Charles sympathized with Louise and Danby’s Tories and turned a sympathetic ear to Nell’s Whigs, he went his own way. And while he was accepting Louis’ bribes he was trying to go ahead with the arrangements for the marriage between his niece, Mary, and William of Orange.
James sought his brother. James’ face was dark with passion.
“Charles, you cannot mean this. My daughter Mary to marry that man!”
“Forget that he is the Protestant leader of the Dutch, and you’ll see what an excellent match he is.”
“The man’s a monster!” said James indignantly.
“The Prince is a brave soldier, Stadtholder of Holland, and our nephew.”
“My little girl is too young.”
“Your little girl is a Princess and therefore prepared for early marriage.”
“Have you forgotten his conduct when he was here?”
“That is a long time ago, and we made him drink too much. When a man drinks too much he does wild things. That is why I like only to drink when I am thirsty.”
“Brother, for the love of God do not give my little Mary to this man.”
“But this marriage is a necessary part of the peace between our two countries.”
“A man who smashed windows to get at the maids of honor. He is a lecher. He is debauched.”
“Oh, come … no more than the rest of us.”
James went away. He went to his little daughter and took her solemnly into his arms.
“Papa,” said Mary, “what ails you?”
“My little one … my little one,” sighed James.
Charles had followed him. He said: “Mary, a great future awaits you. You are to have a fine husband, and that is what every young lady—if she is wise—looks for.”
But Mary’s frightened gaze was fixed on her father’s face. She stared at him and slowly the tears began to fall down her cheeks. She understood. She would marry, and when a Princess married she was forced to leave her home.
The King liked to please Nell. Most of her requests—apart from the demand for that title which she felt should belong to the mother of her boys—were for others. She pleaded fiercely for Buckingham. His Majesty had so enjoyed the noble Duke’s company. Could he ever be really angry with Lord Buckingham? Not for long, surely. They missed him at her parties; and had Charles forgotten how they had been friends together in their childhood?
Charles prevaricated. He was afraid of offending Louise and Danby, whom he wished to keep in the dark concerning the policy he was pursuing regarding the French. The fact that he wished to bring about the marriage of Mary and William of Orange would displease Louis and therefore Louise, though Louise, still unsure of her position, was giving little trouble concerning this marriage. He did not wish to sway too much to the side of the Whigs by releasing Buckingham.
But he hinted to Nell that if she visited Buckingham in his prison she might intimate that the King no longer wished his old friend and companion of his boyhood to remain in the Tower.