“A foolish man!” said Montague. “But he had his reasons. He did not like the Catholic marriage; he is a Protestant. Moreover, he was eager for the King to have an heir. One of his greatest enemies is the Duke of York.”

Louise thought: From this moment he has a greater.

“And,” went on Montague, “if the King does not get an heir, James, Duke of York, will one day be King of England. My lord Buckingham sought to replace the Queen with a fruitful woman who would provide the King with an heir and so ruin the Duke’s chance of ascending the throne.”

“It does not then seem that he is so foolish.”

“He has moments of lucidity, superseded by moments of great folly. That is my lord Duke.”

Louise was silent, looking into the future.

It was not long after that when the yacht which had been chartered by Ralph Montague arrived at Dieppe. As the tide was favorable, Louise left France for England, and when she arrived there, was greeted so warmly by Arlington and his friends that she no longer had need to complain of neglect.

Now she had two projects in view. The first and most important was to enslave the King; the second was revenge on the careless Duke who had given her so many hours of anxiety.

But, born spy that she was, cold by nature, calculating and in complete control, her eyes were now fixed on that distant goal which, she had suddenly made up her mind, should be marriage with the King of England. For if he had been prepared to marry Frances Stuart, why should he not marry Louise de Kéroualle?

In the Palace of Whitehall Louise came face-to-face with the King.

When she would have knelt before him he raised her in his arms and there were tears in his eyes.

“Welcome,” he said, “doubly welcome, my dear Mademoiselle de Kéroualle. It does my heart good to see you at Whitehall. But I cannot forget the last time we met, and I am deeply affected because I remember one who was with us then.”

Louise turned away as though to hide her own tears. There was none; of course there was none; how could she regret the death of Henriette when it had given her a chance to reach such heights of glory as even her parents had not hoped for her?

The King was smiling at her now, his eyes alight with admiration. She was exquisitely gowned and wore fewer jewels than Castlemaine would have affected on such an occasion. Louise had the air of a queen, and Charles was reminded of Frances Stuart who had been brought up in France.

He was excited by the French girl, and he determined to make her his mistress with as little delay as possible.

He said: “The Queen will receive you into her bedchamber.”

Louise murmured her thanks graciously; but she knew, of course, that Barbara Castlemaine had been a lady of his wife’s bedchamber. Louise had no intention of going the way Barbara had gone.

She met the Queen; she met the courtiers; she met the Duke of Buckingham, and she betrayed not even by a gesture that she was in the least angered by his treatment of her; none watching her would believe that her anger rose so high that she feared that, if in that moment she attempted to speak, the effort might choke her.

She could content herself with waiting. The first task was the capture of the King; then she could proceed to annihilate the Duke.

The King had her sit beside him at the banquet which was held in her honor; he talked of his dear brother Louis and the French Court. All about them were saying, This will be the King’s newest mistress.

The King himself believed it. But Louise, smiling so charmingly, looking so young and innocent, had other plans. Before her there was the shining example of Frances Stuart, the girl who had so plagued the King with refusals to surrender that, had he been able, he would have married her. She had seen the Queen—and it occurred to Louise that the Queen did not look over-healthy.

The King deceived himself if he thought he could make Louise de Kéroualle his mistress as easily as a play-actress from his theater.

He said to her: “So eagerly have I awaited your coming that I gave myself the pleasure of preparing your apartments for you.”

She smiled into that charming face, knowing full well that his eagerness for her arrival was feigned. He had doubtless been so sportive with his play-actresses—and perhaps Madame Castlemaine too was by no means the discarded mistress she had been led to believe—that he had omitted to ask my lord Buckingham, when he arrived in England, what he had done with the lady whom he was supposed to be escorting.

“Your Majesty is good to me,” she said with a smile.

He came closer; his eyes were on her plump bosom; his hands caressed her arm.

“I am prepared to be very kind,” he murmured. “I have given you apartments near my own.”

“That is indeed good of Your Majesty.”

“They overlook the privy garden. I am proud of my privy garden. I trust you will like it. You can look down on the sixteen plots of grass and the statues. It is a mighty pretty view, I do believe. I long to show you these apartments. I have had them furnished with French tapestries, because I wished you to feel at home. No homesickness, you understand.”

“I can see Your Majesty is determined to be kind to me.”

“Would you wish me to dismiss these people, that you might be alone and … rest?”

“Your Majesty is so good to me that I crave a favor.”

“My dear Mademoiselle de Kéroualle, you have given me the great gift of your presence here. Anything you might ask of me would be but small in comparison with what you have given me. And were it not, I have no doubt that I should grant it.”

“I have had a long journey,” said Louise.

“And you are weary. It was thoughtless of me to have given such a banquet so soon. But I wished to make you sure of your welcome.”

“I am indeed grateful for the honor you have shown me, but my lord Arlington and Lady Arlington, who have been so good to me, have placed apartments in their house at my disposal.”

“I am glad my lord Arlington and his lady have been so hospitable,” said Charles a little wryly.

“I am very weary, and I fear that the etiquette of the Court, in my present state, would overtax my strength,” said Louise.

Charles’ glance was ironic. He understood. Louise was jealous of her dignity. She was not to be sent for like any play-actress. She had to be wooed.

Inwardly he grimaced. But he said with the utmost charm: “I understand full well. Go to the Arlingtons. His lady will make you very comfortable. And I trust that ere long you will be ready to exchange Lord Arlington’s house for my palace of Whitehall.”

Louise thanked him charmingly.

She believed she had won the first round. The King was eager for her; but he was realizing that a grand lady such as Louise de Kéroualle must be courted before she was won.

Louise stayed with the Arlingtons. The King visited her frequently, but she did not become his mistress. Charles was often exasperated, but Louise attracted him with her perfect manners and babyish looks. There was in her attitude a certain promise which indicated that, once the formalities had been observed, he would find the waiting well worthwhile. Louise remembered other ladies from the past who, by careful tactics, had won high places for themselves. Elizabeth Woodville in her dealings with Edward IV. Anne Boleyn with Henry VIII. The latter was not a very happy example, but Louise would not be guilty of that Queen’s follies; nor did Charles resemble in any way the Tudor King. The poverty of Louise’s youth, the knowledge, which was always before her, that she must make her own way for herself had fired her with great ambition, so that no sooner did one goal appear in sight than she must immediately aim at another. King’s mistress had been the first goal. She could achieve that at any moment. Now she was trying for another: King’s wife. It might seem fantastic and wild. But there was the example of Frances Stuart. Moreover the Queen was ailing, and she could not produce an heir. These were the exact circumstances which had helped to put Anne Boleyn on the throne. Anne had had the good sense to withhold herself for a long time from an enamored monarch, but after marriage she had lost that good sense. Louise would never lose hers.

So she held back. She reminded the King by a hundred gestures that she was a great lady; she hinted that she found him very attractive but, because she was not only a great lady but a virtuous one, the fact that he was married prevented her from yielding to his desires.

Charles hid his growing exasperation under great charm of manner. He was ready to play her game, for he knew she would eventually surrender. Why else should she have come to England? And while he waited, he amused himself with others. Occasionally he visited Barbara, Moll, and Nell; Chaffinch continued to bring certain ladies up to his apartments by way of the privy stairs. Thus he could enjoy the game of waiting which he must play with Louise.

Apartments were furnished for her at Whitehall; beautiful French tapestries adorned the walls; there was furniture decorated with the new marqueterie; there were exquisite carpets, cabinets from Japan, vases of china and silver, tables of marble, the newest kind of clocks with pendulums, silver candelabra and everything that was exquisite.

Louise moved into these apartments, but she made it clear to the King that such a great and virtuous lady as herself could only receive him at one time of the day. This was nine o’clock in the morning.

Colbert de Croissy, the French ambassador, watched uneasily. He even remonstrated with her. He greatly feared that she would try the King’s patience too far.