Charles the King by Evelyn Anthony Read Free Book Online Page A

conscience.
    â€œThe Queen tells me,” he said quietly, “that she is in great disfavour with you because of a walk she took in Hyde Park two days ago. She tells me you received a report of that walk which was quite untrue and that you reprimanded her in a most violent manner. She is quite overcome with grief.”
    â€œI doubt that,” Charles retorted bitterly. “The Queen may sulk but she is never overcome. As for the walk, as you describe it, it was a procession, headed by her and her attendants and priests to the gallows at Tyburn where some Catholic malefactors were hanging, and it was reported to me, by persons I believe implicitly, that my wife went down on her knees and prayed for them publicly. I did indeed reprimand her; I also told her that she might well be torn to pieces by the London crowds if she ever makes such a demonstration again. If that happens, sir, I hope you and her priests will be truly satisfied.”
    â€œThe Queen assured me that she did not approach the gallows.”
    â€œShe assured me also, and I do not believe her. I do not believe,” Charles’ voice rose suddenly, his temper rising after months of humiliation, nightly rebuffs and unremitting strain, “I do not believe that she cares a tinker’s damn for her religion or for anything but causing me pain and embarrassment. If that is her intention, you can tell her from me that she has succeeded past success!”
    â€œI would rather tell her that she is forgiven,” the ambassador countered. “Please, Sire, have pity. Go to her this evening and be reconciled. She is so young,” he added, “and so eager to learn.”
    â€œOh, my God! Eager to learn? Learn what, may I ask? Certainly not the English language for one thing—she refuses to speak a word—certainly not my wishes, everything I say is disregarded.”
    â€œIf I may interrupt this conversation,” the voice of Buckingham broke in upon them and the Ambassador swung round. The Duke had come into the room from a small antechamber. He had been standing in the shadows listening for some moments. He bowed towards Charles who looked relieved, even pleased to see him, and continued; “If I may interrupt on behalf of His Majesty, who clearly needs a champion since the Queen is so ably and, er—constantly represented by you, Monsieur, might I suggest that since the Queen is at fault, she should come to the King and ask his pardon? I have no doubt she’d be given it?”
    He turned towards Charles, and Charles nodded. He was not in the least angry with Buckingham for interfering or for standing unannounced in his presence. Steenie was his friend, as he had been his father’s; Steenie could sit in his presence and wear his hat and interrupt a private conversation and he felt nothing but gratitude and admiration for the way he had put his point of view. Buckingham always brought his quarrels with Henrietta into proportion. Buckingham had pointed out to him the enormity of what she had done by her pilgrimage to Tyburn and inflamed his anger against her until he was ready to give her a suitable rebuke. And Buckingham agreed with him that when she denied it she was lying.
    â€œIf the Queen comes to me, I shall receive her,” he said. “You may tell her so. Now be good enough to take leave of us, sir.”
    When they were alone he turned to the Duke. His handsome face was weary and drawn and Buckingham put his arm round his shoulders.
    â€œDon’t go to her,” he advised. “Let her come to you, Sire. And when she does, insist that she stays for the night this time.”
    He knew that Charles’s pride had been flayed raw by the aversion she had shown for him; he guessed that most of his antagonism and even his hatred of her attendants was due to the conflict of suppressed desire and injured feelings.
    â€œYou know I can’t insist on that,” Charles said wretchedly. “I