The Merry Monarch's Wife by Jean Plaidy Read Free Book Online Page B

prepared for my meeting with the Earl of Sandwich. He was a good-looking man, in his late thirties, I imagined. He had a pleasant countenance and my spirits rose at the sight of him. There was something comforting about him.
    I learned afterward that he was not a man of deep convictions, for he had served Oliver Cromwell with loyalty and had continued his duties under Richard Cromwell. Now the King had returned and the Earl’s devotion was proved to be to whatever government was in power. He was a sailor; he worked for his country and whoever was head of the state; he remained in his post of Admiral.
    He was delighted with the welcome he had received from the people of Lisbon. He had come just in time, and by his presence had saved our country; so naturally they were eager to show their gratitude.
    If only the money had been there, I could have been happy. When he kissed my hand and declared how honored he was to do so, I could have been enchanted if I had not been haunted by thoughts of the missing dowry.
    There came at length the time for confession. I knew what was happening, for my mother was closeted with the Earl and I had seen the apprehension in her face when she prepared for the meeting. There was resolution too. I had told myself that she would not fail; she had never done so yet. She was the most resourceful person I had ever known and this marriage had obsessed her for years. She would not let it fail now.
    They were a long time together, and when the Earl left I hurried to her.
    She was looking uneasy, and I forgot all formality. I think she did too. She was trembling slightly, which I had never seen her do before.
    â€œI beg you…,” I cried. “Tell me…”
    She was silent.
    I said: “It is over then. He is going back without me?”
    She shook her head. “He is naturally perplexed. The money is so important. The King is greatly impoverished. Richard Cromwell has been a disaster…”
    â€œAnd so…”
    â€œHe needs time to think.”
    â€œYou believe he may refuse…that everything will come to nothing?”
    â€œNo,” she said fiercely. “He could not do that. He has already taken Tangiers. He could not relinquish that now. In the long term that is more important than the money.”
    â€œBut it is only half of it he has to wait for. He can have half now and the rest in a year.”
    â€œWell, daughter, it is not quite like that. I have had to tell him the whole truth. You know the Jew Diego Silvas?”
    â€œI have heard him spoken of.”
    â€œA man of great integrity…a business man…a loyal subject.”
    I had been surprised by my mother’s admiration for him. As a fervent Catholic, she would be distrustful of the Jews. Under the Inquisition, they had been persecuted more than any other people. Diego Silvas was a wealthy man, an honest man, a businessman, and as such had been of great use to her. She respected him and made of him a friend. His religious beliefs were set aside for the benefits he could bring. But where was he concerned in this matter?”
    â€œI have called on him to help,” she said. “I told the Earl that we could pay half of your dowry now and the rest at the end of the year. But the fact is I do not have the money even for part of the first half. So what I propose to do is to put on board the value of the money—the half we are speaking of—in goods, spices, sugar, such things, merchandise as we would export from our country. Diego Silvas will travel to England with the goods and when he arrives in England he will store them and see that they are sold to the merchants he knows in London, and when this is done the money will be delivered to the English treasury.” She took a deep breath and spread her hands with a smile. “It was the only thing I could do.”
    I looked at her incredulously and thought how wonderful she was…how imaginative…how