“It’s always been my opinion, madame, that the mistresses of kings are as honourable as the wives of other men. I don’t ask you to make her your friend, Catherine, or even to have her about you—but only that she be allowed the title. It would make her life much easier—and could scarcely hurt you, my dear.” He smiled, trying to convince her, but nevertheless he was surprised at her stubbornness, for he had never suspected that this quiet adoring little woman had so much spirit.
“I’m sorry, your Majesty, but I must refuse. I would gladly do anything else you ask—but I can’t do this. Please, Sire—try to understand what it would mean to me, too.”
A week later Charles, on the pretext of going hunting, went to see Barbara at her uncle’s nearby estate. She had just arrived and had sent him a desperate, humble imploring letter which, however, touched him less than did the fragrance it carried—that heavy musky compelling odour with which she always surrounded herself.
Breathless from running, she met him just as he stepped into the great hallway where stag-horns decorated the walls and ancient armour and firearms hung in every corner. He looked at her and saw a woman more beautiful than the one he remembered—his memory was short for such things—with brilliant violet eyes, her hair in a lavish cluster of curls about her face dressed in a becoming gown of deep-red silk.
“Your Majesty!”
She made him a sweeping curtsy and her head dropped gracefully. Her eyes closed and she gave a little sigh as he bent casually to kiss her upon the cheek. Then she took his arm and they walked on into the house and up the flight of stairs which led to the main apartments.
“You’re looking very well,” he said, determinedly ignoring her obvious efforts to enchant. “I hope your confinement was not difficult.”
She laughed gaily and pressed his arm, as sweet and merry as she had ever been in the early weeks of their acquaintance before the Restoration. “Difficult! Heavens, Your Majesty, —you know how it is with me! I’d rather have a baby than a quartan ague! Oh, but wait till you see him! He’s ever so handsome—and everyone says he’s the image of you!” That was not what they had said about her first child.
In the chapel the bishop was waiting with Lord Oxford and Lady Suffolk and the baby. When the ceremony of baptism was over Charles admired his son, took it up into his arms with an air of knowing exactly what he was about. But presently it began to cry and was sent off back to the nursery. The others went into a small private room to have wine and cakes, and here Barbara maneuvered him off to one side, under the pretext of showing him a section of the garden.
But she soon turned from the roses and flowering lime.
“And now you’re married,” she breathed softly, looking up at him with her eyes sad and tender. “And I’ve heard you’re deep in love.”
He stood and stared at her moodily, his eyes flickering over her face and hair and down to her breasts and small-laced waist. He caught the faint lascivious odour of her perfume, and his eyes darkened. Practiced voluptuary as he was, Charles had begun to long for a woman whose senses he could arouse, and who could arouse his. Catherine loved him, but he was finding her innocence and instinctive reticence a bore.
He sucked a quick breath through his teeth and his jaw set. “I’m very happy, thank you.”
A faint mocking smile crossed her face. “For your sake, Sire, I’m glad.” Then she sighed again and looked wistfully out the window. “Oh, you can’t think what a wretched time I had in London after you’d left! The very porters and ’prentices in the streets insulted me! If you hadn’t promised to make me a Lady of the Bedchamber—Lord, I don’t know how I’d shift!”
A scowl crossed his face, for this was what he had been expecting and dreading. Of course her aunt had told her the whole story. “I’m sure you exaggerate, Barbara. I think you’ll get along very well, in spite of everything.”
Her head turned swiftly, the black centers of her eyes enlarging. “What do you mean—in spite of everything?”
“Well—it’s unfortunate, but my wife crossed out your name. She says she doesn’t want you for an attendant.”
“Doesn’t want me! Why, that’s ridiculous! Why doesn’t she want me? My family’s good enough, I hope! And what harm can
“None,” he said, very definitely. “But all the same she doesn’t want you. She doesn’t understand the way we live here in England. I told her that I would—”
