With All My Heart by Margaret Campbell Barnes Read Free Book Online

— disillusioned most of all perhaps with himself. “There are unimaginably tedious arrangements to be made for our taking up residence at Whitehall,” he explained. “Lists to be made out for the new appointments in your household. Navy expenses to be passed. Warrants to be signed.”
    “But today, Charles?” she had persisted, in spite of all her good resolutions. “Is it such a matter of life and death?”
    He had laughed, but without allowing himself to dwell upon the sweetness of her eager face. “Nothing so serious as death, my love,” he assured her, bending over the bed to kiss her before hurrying away. “I would say rather to do with life.”
    And although he did not return for a day or two his Secretary of State, Sir Edward Nicholas, duly waited upon her with an imposing looking document bearing the names of the Queen’s household. “For Her Majesty’s approval,” was written upon it in a hand which might have been either the Chancellor’s or the Secretary’s. But because Charles’s familiar signature was set upon it Catherine smiled and laid it on the table beside her and began immediately asking after his health. “I pray there be no cases of plague in London?” she asked anxiously, airing her rapidly improving English.
    “Since your coming, Madame, we have been singularly blessed in that respect, and the people take it as a good omen,” Sir Edward Nicholas assured her.
    Catherine led him on to tell her about life at Whitehall until he reminded her that the Council was awaiting his return thither and begged her — a thought nervously — to approve the appointments.
    “With all my heart!” agreed Catherine, proud to be able to pronounce so glibly the gracious words so often on her husband’s lips. Almost casually, she began to read them through. Handsome Lord Ormonde was already her Comptroller, and Lady Suffolk had proved a good friend. Donna Elvira and her own Portuguese women would still be with her. She was pleased to see that Ralph Montagu, a kinsman of the Admiral, had been appointed her Master of Horse. There were several names which were unknown to her and which all looked alike in their foreign style — but of course Charles would know best.
    But heading the list of Ladies of the Queen’s Bedchamber was one name which she had learned to know only too well before ever she set foot in England. Lady Castlemaine. Catherine’s heart almost stopped beating. She could hear again her mother’s brisk voice saying that evening before she left Lisbon, “Some ridiculous foreign title he has conferred upon her ... something to do with a casa ... in return for past services, let us hope.”
    Lady Castlemaine. Her husband’s mistress. Catherine rose to her feet with a dignity amazing in one so small, and as she stood staring down at the hated name she saw all Charles’s strange restlessness clearly illuminated in new guise. She knew that when he was away in London he must have seen her and been pressed for the appointment that the woman might remain near him. “How dare he? Oh, how dare he?” cried her proud, hurt heart, remembering how shamelessly and passionately she had given her whole being into his keeping.
    “Bring me a pair of scissors!” she called, in a voice hard as a harpy’s.
    Sir Edward, who knew his master’s humour better than most, made a swift, deterring movement. “Madame, the King himself ... I beg you to consider —” he stammered.
    “For the upright in mind this is a matter which needs no consideration,” cried Catherine, in her outraged young righteousness. And taking the scissors from one of her frightened women, she stabbed at the parchment, scratching through the name Castlemaine as though it had been mud.
     

 
    CHAPTER IV
     
    “ALL THROUGH Oliver Cromwell’s rebellion Barbara’s family have been our most loyal subjects. As children we Stuarts always played with the young Villiers. And it is only meet that I should grant her this preferment,”