The Merry Monarch's Wife qoe-9 Page 6

  Several days had passed since my arrival and I had not yet seen the King. He was detained in London on urgent business, I was told. I was a little uneasy that he should be delayed so long. It might seem that he was not very eager to see me. I wondered what the business in London could be which was so urgent. Matters of state, of course.

  It was five days after my arrival in Portsmouth when he came. I was in bed. The fever had subsided but the cold still persisted.

  Donna Maria, now recovered, said: “You must not leave your bed, and one thing is certain, the King must not see you in it.”

  “He will expect to see me when he arrives.”

  “If he is a sensible and right-minded man, he will realize the impropriety of seeing you at such a time.”

  I wondered. I had already noticed that formality was not so rigidly insisted on here as it was in Portugal. It existed, of course, but the English had a habit of discarding certain things if they become inconvenient.

  He arrived. I heard the commotion below. Donna Maria and Donna Elvira were standing at the door like two angels with flaming swords guarding Eden.

  Then I heard a voice — the most musical I had ever heard. It was soft and caressing, though I could not understand the words which were spoken.

  The Earl of Sandwich was there.

  He said in Spanish that the King had arrived and wished to see the Queen.

  Donna Maria replied that the Queen was indisposed.

  “The King will see her,” replied the Earl. “He has traveled from London for this.”

  Donna Maria was about to protest, but with a courtly gesture, the Earl led her to one side. And there was the King.

  I felt myself flushing and trying to shrink below the bedclothes, fearful that, unadorned as I was, he should find me ill-favored.

  He came to the bed. He had taken off his plumed hat and flung it onto a chair. He was smiling and he was all that I had dreamed him to be. One was immediately aware of his height, and his dark face with the heavy-lidded eyes. They sparkled with merriment and friendliness. Yet there was a certain gentleness about him. He was swarthy, yes, that was true enough. He was quite unlike the fair-skinned Englishmen whom I had met so far. In fact, he was different from anyone I had ever seen before. He may not have had perfect features, but he had something far more attractive. It was an excessive and indefinable charm. For so long I had created an image — now here was the embodiment of my ideal.

  He sat on the bed and took my hand. He kissed it, looking up into my face as he did so.

  He spoke in English and then, laughing, slipped into Spanish.

  “The Spaniards have a use then,” he said. “They gave us a language which we both understand. My little wife, how it delights me to see you! But I am sad that you should be indisposed. But you will be well soon. Your doctors have told me that. It is nothing much…just a little inconvenience. That makes me very happy.”

  “You are kind,” I said.

  “Kind?” He laughed. “And to whom should I be kind if not to my Queen? Life is going to be good. I can see that you and I will be of one mind. We shall be merry together. The sea was not good to you, they tell me. That grieved me much. And now you are here, all shall be well from now on. How I have longed to see you!”

  It did not occur to me until later — such was the magic of his presence — that if he had so longed to see me, he need not have waited five days before doing so. But I was to discover that, while one was with Charles, he beguiled one into believing him. Or perhaps one did so because one wanted to.

  “As soon as you are well, we shall be married,” he said.

  He saw the furrow in my brow and asked me in a tender voice if anything worried me.

  With a certain apprehension, I broached the subject which was uppermost in my mind. Perhaps he was not the one to whom I should have spoken, but there was a kindliness in him and I sensed he would be tolerant and understand a point of view which might not be his own. I should certainly not have mentioned it on our first meeting, but I had already tried to speak of it to Don Francisco, who had brushed it aside.

  I said: “There is something, Your Majesty.”

  He took my hand. “Charles…” he said reproachfully, and I immediately felt able to confide in him.

  “It is the ceremony…”

  “Oh, the ceremony! What fuss! For myself, I could happily dispense with such encumbrances.”

  “Your Majesty…Charles…I could not be happy if there was not a Catholic ceremony.”

  For a moment he dropped his bantering mood. Then he smiled and said: “You need have no fear. Our marriage will be regarded throughout the world as a true marriage.”

  “It would not be so to me,” I said.

  “Ah,” he replied. “They have made an ardent papist of you, have they? Papists are so earnest.” He laughed. “You remind me of my mother. You and she will be good friends when you meet, I’ll swear. As for this Catholic ceremony…you see, my dear, you are Queen of this country and you must be married according to the religious observances of the place. But you say you will not be happy…and I cannot allow you to be unhappy. I will tell you how we will resolve this matter. There shall be a ceremony here in this bedchamber. It shall be as you wish, and the other one will take place as arranged on the same day. It means you will have to marry me twice. Could you bear that?”

  I felt my lips tremble. I was going to weep because I was so touched, so happy.

  “You are all that I hoped for…and all that I dreamed,” I said emotionally.

  He looked at me in mock dismay. “Do not have too good an opinion of me, I beg you. I fear you will find me a somewhat sinful fellow.”

  “Oh no. You are the kindest and best man in the world.”

  He leaned toward me and kissed my cheek. He was sober suddenly. He said: “You shame me.” Then he was merry again. His gravity seemed always to be fleeting, as though his gaiety was waiting impatiently to break in on it.

  “So,” he went on, “that little matter is taken care of. There is nothing now for you to be anxious about. All you have to do is get well. I am impatient for these ceremonies to be over.”

  When he left me, I lay back in a daze of happiness.

  Donna Maria came in and looked at me.

  “I never heard of such,” she was muttering. “I can guess what your mother would say if she knew that a man not yet your husband had visited you in your bedchamber…and you abed!”

  I pulled the bedclothes up to hide my face and stifle my laughter.

  It was the laughter of happiness as much as amusement.

  * * *

  I RECOVERED ALMOST IMMEDIATELY and it was arranged that the ceremony should take place without delay.

  There was a great deal of secrecy about the Catholic nuptials, and I realized what a concession it was that it should have been allowed to take place.

  It was to be held in my bedchamber. The Lord Aubigny, an almoner of Queen Henrietta Maria, was to perform the ceremony. Francisco de Mello was to be there with three of his trusted servants, and Donnas Maria and Elvira. The only other witness was to be the Duke of York, and I was pleased to see him again. He had made me feel so welcome on my arrival and he had seemed sympathetic and to understand my urgent desire that it should take place.

  Charles was as charming as ever. He was less earnest than I, and I felt more and more grateful that he should have granted my wish, which could not have been easy. If he had refused, I should have been most unhappy. He had understood this and was determined to please me. What a wonderful husband I should have!

  After the ceremony Charles kissed me. He whispered: “Don’t forget you have to go through all this again.”

  I replied that I should be very happy to do so.

  Then the Duke of York kissed me and said most graciously how delighted he was that I had come to these shores to be his good sister.

  I was so happy. My cold had disappeared and I was now ready for that other ceremony which would take place
later that day.

  Lady Suffolk helped to prepare me for it. Donna Maria clucked her disapproval and whispered with Donna Elvira, who shared it. They had been somewhat placated because of the earlier ceremony in my bedchamber. At least I was now Charles’s wife and that set their minds at rest. It was a pity, said Donna Elvira, that we had to go through this heathen performance.

  They did not approve of my wedding dress, which Lady Suffolk and I thought charming. It was cut according to the English fashion. “Disgraceful,” murmured Donna Maria.

  “Too low cut and showing too much of the shoulders,” added Donna Elvira.

  It was of the color of roses — a beautiful shade which would be becoming to my dark eyes, and there were little knots of ribbon all over it. I thought it was the most delightful dress I had ever seen.

  Communication was not easy. I knew that I must learn the English language as quickly as I could, for I could see many difficulties ahead. I thought: I will ask Charles to teach me. Perhaps I shall teach him Portuguese.

  “You must not get exhausted,” warned Donna Elvira.

  “Indeed not,” added Donna Maria. “Do not forget that you have just arisen from a sick bed.”

  “Oh, Maria…it was nothing.”

  “You have to remember, my lady, how excitement upsets you.”

  I knew what she meant. Once or twice, when I had been overtired or became too excited, I had fainted, and this was accompanied by a tiresome bleeding of the nose. It had happened only a few times but that was enough for Donna Maria. She was continually reminding me of it. It had happened once in the convent and had alarmed the nuns. Donna Maria was now shaking her head prophetically.

  “I shall be watchful,” she said. “And if I see the signs, I shall insist on your returning to your bed — no matter who shall try to stop me. It was foolish to have two ceremonies on the same day. The morning’s was necessary, I agree, but this other…”

  “Dear Maria, this is the one people here think is important.”

  “I can only wish that we had come to a country of the Faith.”

  “I’m happy here, Maria.”

  Lady Suffolk fortunately could not understand this conversation, so perhaps there was some advantage in the language difficulty after all.

  The ceremony was to take place in the great hall of this house, for which I was grateful. I was buoyed up by excitement, but I did feel a trembling of the knees, due no doubt to this excitement rather than my recent indisposition.

  The grand hall, or the Presence Chamber, where Charles received visiting emissaries and ambassadors, was an impressive room, especially as it was fitted up for this occasion. Two thronelike seats had been set under a canopy, and a rail had been put across the room to partition off that section where the nuptials should take place, separating us from the rest of the company. The place was filled with nobles and those of high standing in all professions.

  Charles led me to the seat under the canopy, and with us was the Bishop of London, who was to perform the ceremony, and Don Francisco with Sir Richard Fanshawe, whom I knew because of the part he had played in the negotiation of the marriage.

  Charles took my hand and the ceremony began.

  I could only nod my head when told to do so, for I was not able to say the words which were required of me.

  I learned afterward that when the Bishop proclaimed us man and wife, what the people were shouting was: “Long may they live!”

  There was to be a banquet and the King, holding me by the hand, took me to his apartment, the people following us.

  There we stood side by side and many came to congratulate us and to wish us a long and happy life together. Charles explained this to me. He looked very happy — and so was I.

  Lady Suffolk indicated that she would like one of the blue knots of ribbon on my dress. It would be a memento of this happy occasion which she would treasure all her life. I thought it was a charming suggestion, so I pulled one off and gave it to her.

  People pressed round and I realized that they were all demanding a knot of blue ribbon.

  “You cannot refuse them,” said Charles. “You are going to be ribbonless before they will let you go.”

  It was all very merry and there was I, plucking off the knots of ribbon, which I knew later had been lightly tacked on so that they could easily be pulled off.

  I looked down with dismay at my denuded dress.

  “Do not regret the loss of the ribbons,” said Charles. “It still looks delightful, as any dress would on you.”

  I noticed that only one knot had been left, and Charles plucked it off. “This one shall be mine,” he said. He kissed it and held it to his heart. Everyone applauded.

  I turned to him and smiled. I was so happy. There was only one regret. My mother was not here to see my contentment, and the successful culmination of the dream we had shared through the years.

  Suddenly I felt almost faint and might have fallen if Charles had not put an arm about me.

  “You are unwell, my dearest?” he said with concern.

  “No, just a little tired.”

  Donna Maria, watching me intently, had seen what had happened. She was beside me, indignant and vociferous.

  “I should think so. You have had enough. It is time you were in your bed. You will be ill. I have never heard the like…two weddings in one day.”

  I was glad few could understand her.

  The Countess of Suffolk was talking to the King. He looked grave.

  Then he said to me: “They are saying you are overtired. This is too soon after your illness. The Countess thinks you should return to bed.”

  I said: “There is the banquet…”

  “Your good health is more important than all the banquets in my kingdom. The ladies are right. You must go to your bedchamber at once. You must rest.”

  “But…,” I began.

  “Yes,” he said firmly. “It is best. There is the rest of our lives for us to be together.”

  Donna Maria was chattering about the folly of doing too much too soon. Elvira was with her. They knew, they were saying, what was best for me.

  I said: “I shall miss the banquet…my wedding banquet…and I shall not be there.”

  “A plague on banquets,” said Donna Maria. “Your health comes first.”

  The King came with me to my bedchamber. Donna Maria pursed her lips and I wanted to remind her that he was my husband now.

  Lady Suffolk was there. She implied that she, with my ladies, would help me to disrobe.

  I lay in my bed. Yes, I was exhausted and it was a relief to rest. But I could not stop myself thinking of the splendid banquet, the merrymaking, and the King sitting there with an empty chair beside him, which made me feel a little dispirited, when the door was flung open suddenly, and two men appeared, carrying trays.

  I thought: I do not want to eat. Oh, how I wished that I had been able to hide my weakness.

  And then Charles was there. He gave an order to the men and one tray was set down on the bed. He seated himself on the other side of the tray, smiling at me.

  “What…?” I began in Spanish, and he answered in that language.

  “I could not sup on my wedding day without my wife.”

  Oh, what a merry meal that was! How we laughed and how we talked! It was so amusing for us because we found our Spanish not always adequate and must resort to miming.

  Charles said: “I wonder if you will share my view that this is far more agreeable than the grand banquet they are having downstairs.”

  “It is the most enjoyable meal I ever had,” I told him.

  We kissed over the tray, and I was happier than I had ever been before in the whole of my life.

  * * *

  I SPENT MY WEDDING NIGHT alone in my bed. Charles was so considerate that he realized I was too overcome by the excitement for anything else.

  I scarcely slept. How rarely is the realization more delightful than the dream itself! That was what I believed had happened to me.


  How charming he was! He had a nonchalant air, a carefree manner which implied that everything would be well if left to him. And above all, there was his kindness. I remembered how grim Don Francisco had become when I had told him I must have a Catholic marriage ceremony. How different from my dearest Charles! It was a delicate matter, I knew. I was asking something which had to be performed in private because the people here would not have wanted it to take place. But he had immediately understood how much it meant to me. He was wonderful. I must be the happiest woman in the world.

  He was in the room early next morning asking me, with the utmost tenderness, how I was.

  I told him I was completely well.

  “We shall take care of you,” he said.

  Then he talked of our honeymoon which, he said, if I were agreeable, should be spent at his palace of Hampton Court.

  I said that would be most agreeable.

  “It is one of my favorite palaces,” he told me. “You will enjoy it, as I shall. It is a place where a great deal has happened and I shall tell you of some of this. It was built many years ago…four hundred, I think, and much later it was bought by a man who is very well known in our history. He was called Cardinal Wolsey. He displeased the King, Henry VIII, who took the palace from him, and it has been royal property ever since.”

  “I want to see it very much.”

  “We shall dally there for a while. You will like the gardens. You will like the river which runs alongside, and you will not be afraid of the ghosts who haunt the palace, because I shall be there to protect you.”

  I told him I should not feel afraid of anything if he were there.

  Now our relationship had deepened. I was young, innocent and ignorant. He, as I learned later, was as well versed in the art of lovemaking as anyone on the earth. And I was sure he must have been born with it. How charmingly and romantically he initiated me. And what an apt pupil I was. I believed I delighted him. I did not realize then that it was because of my innocence, which must have made me very different from most of the women he had known. Few would have lived such a sheltered life as I had.

  I found life enchanting. We were together for most of the days and nights during the time we spent in Portsmouth; and we were to leave for Hampton Court as soon as enough carts could be found to take the court there.