“I would I could believe it.”

“I’ll see that he does,” said Nell fiercely. And Elizabeth believed she would, and was greatly comforted.

They talked of children then, and as Nell was discussing in detail her feelings and ailments while she was carrying my lord Burford and my lord Beauclerk, another visitor arrived. This was William Fanshawe, thin and poor, who held a small post at Court. He had married Lucy Water’s daughter, Mary, over whom the King had exercised some care, although he had refused to acknowledge the child as his own, since everyone was fully aware that she could not be.

“’Tis William Fanshawe,” said Nell. “He is proud because his wife is with child. He will boast and try to convince you that Mary was in fact the King’s daughter, I doubt not. It is the main subject of his discourse.”

William Fanshawe was ushered in.

“Why, Will,” cried Nell, “right glad I am to see you. And how fares your wife? Well, I trust, and happy with her belly.”

Fanshawe said that his wife was hoping the child would bear a resemblance to her royal father.

“’Tis to be hoped,” said Nell, “that the baby will not take so long to get born as her mother did.” This was a reference to the fact that Lucy Water’s daughter was born far more than nine months after Charles had left her mother. But Nell softened at once and offered a piece of friendly advice. “And Will, spend not too much on the christening but reserve yourself a little to buy new shoes that will not dirty my rooms, and mayhap a new periwig that I may not smell your stink two storys high.”

William took this in good part. He was delighted to be near one who was in such close touch with royalty.

But it was clear to Nell that he had not come merely to talk of his wife’s pregnancy, and that he had something to say to her which was not for Elizabeth’s ears.

So, finding some pretext for dismissing Elizabeth, she settled down to hear Fanshawe’s news.

“Your friends are committed to the Tower,” he said.

“What friends mean you?” asked Nell, aghast.

“Shaftesbury, Buckingham, Salisbury, and Wharton … the leaders of the Country Party.”

“Why so?”

“By the King’s orders.”

“Then he has been forced to this by Danby!”

“They argued that a year’s recess automatically dissolved a Parliament. They should have known that His Majesty would never agree that this was so, since it is His Majesty’s great desire that Parliament be in perpetual recess. The King was angry with them all. He fears, it seems, that the fact that they make such a statement may put it into the members’ heads to pass a law making a year’s recess a lawful reason for dissolution.”

“So … he has sent them to the Tower!”

“Nell, take care. You dabble in dangerous waters and you are being carried out of your depth.”

Nell shook her head. “My lord Buckingham is my good friend,” she said. “He was my good friend when I was an orange-girl. Should I fail to be his when he is a prisoner in the Tower?”

The King took time off from his troubles to enjoy a little domesticity with Nell. These were happy times, for Nell’s contentment was a pleasure to witness.

Charles took great delight in discussing their sons’ future. Ironically he copied Nell’s habit of referring to them by their full titles every time he addressed them or spoke of them to Nell.

“Nell, my lord Burford and my lord Beauclerk must receive an education due to their rank.”

Nell’s eyes sparkled with pleasure.

“Indeed yes. They must be educated. I would not like to see my lord Burford nor my lord Beauclerk suffer the tortures I do when called upon to handle a pen.”

“I promise you they shall not. You know, there is one place where they could receive the best education in the world—the Court of France.”

Nell’s expression changed. “Take them away from me, you mean?”

“They would merely go to France for a year or so. Then they would come back to you. They would come back proficient in all the graces of the noblemen you wish them to be.”

“But they wouldn’t be my boys anymore.”

“I thought you wished that they should be lords and dukes.”

“I do indeed; and forget not that you have promised they shall be. But why should they not be with their mother?”

“Because it is the custom for children of high rank to be brought up in the households of noblemen, Nell. Had I left Jemmy with his mother, he would never have been the young nobleman he is today.”

“Which might have been better for him and others. Mayhap then he would not have been strutting about as Prince Perkin.”

“You speak truth. I would not press this. It is a decision you must come to for yourself. Keep them with you if you wish it. But if you would have them take their place in the world beside others of their rank, then must they follow a similar course of education.”

“Why should I not have tutors for them?”

“It is for you to say.”

When the King left Nell, she was disturbed.

She found the boys playing with Mrs. Turner, their governess, in charge of them. They ran to her as she entered.

“Mama,” they cried. “Here is Mama, come to sing and dance for us.”

Nell had rarely felt less like singing and dancing.

She dismissed Mrs. Turner and hugged the boys. They were so beautiful, she thought. They had an air of royalty which, no matter what education they received, must surely carry them to greatness. Charles was the image of his father. My darling, darling Earl of Burford, thought Nell; and little James? Nay, he had not the same air as his brother. There were times when Nell thought she saw her mother in him. This was not a new idea. She had settled her mother in a house in Pimlico, where she was very contented to be. Nell did not want her mother to influence those two precious lives.

“Mama,” said Lord Burford, “are you sad?”

“Nay … nay, my little lord. I’m not sad. How could I be when I have two such precious lambs?” She kissed them tenderly. “Would you like to go to France?” she asked abruptly.

“Where’s France?” asked Lord Beauclerk.

“Across the water,” said his brother. “’Tis a grand, beautiful place. Papa lived there a long time.”

“I want to live there,” said little James.

“Is Papa coming with us?” asked Charles.

“No,” said Nell. “If you went, you’d have to go alone.”

“Without you?” said Charles.

She nodded.

“Then I won’t go,” he answered haughtily—royally, thought Nell. The Divine Right of the adored child shining in his eyes.

She thought, Mr. Otway shall be his tutor. Poor Tom Otway, he’ll be glad of a roof to his head and his food each day.

Little James had taken her hand and was staring into space. He was picturing himself in France.

Nell thought: Lord Beauclerk would not feel the break so much. Perhaps he should go to France. It is more important for a young son to have that air of nobility. Honors may not come so easily to him as to his brother. Nell snatched him up suddenly and held him tightly in her arms. I can’t let him go, she told herself. He may be my lord Beauclerk, but he’s my baby.

Charles was relieved to have the troublemakers in the Tower. Their lodgings there were comfortable enough; they were allowed to have their own servants to wait upon them; they received visitors; in fact they lived like the noble lords they were; there was only one thing they lacked, and that was freedom.

Charles trusted none. To Danby, to Louise, he listened with sympathy; he visited Nell’s house and talked with the utmost friendship to her Whig friends. But all the time he was playing the secret game. He had one great desire—to rule his country without the help of Parliament. Parliament, with its opposing parties, made continual trouble. The Whigs slandered the Tories and the Tories the Whigs. They were more concerned with their petty hatred for each other than their love of their country. Charles loved his country (as he would have been the first to admit, loving his country was tantamount to loving himself) and he was determined to use all his skill—which was considerable when he brought it into play—to prevent himself ever going on his wanderings again.

He supported Danby because Danby was a wizard who had managed his financial affairs as they had never been managed before. He did not believe he could afford to do without Danby. For the first time since he had come to England he felt his affairs to be in good order. He placated Louise because she was Louis’ spy, and it was of the utmost importance that he should keep Louis’ friendship. The bribes he was taking from France now, in exchange for which he kept aloof from the Continental war, were the very reason for his country’s prosperity. Charles had always known that the country which stood aloof from war and concentrated on trade was the prosperous one. It was pleasant therefore to receive Louis’ bribes for keeping a peace which in any case he had intended to keep. He pretended to take Louise’s advice. Poor Louise! She must please Louis. He had to satisfy her in some way, and for the life of him he could not bring himself to visit her as often as he once had.

As for Nell, her dabbling in politics amused him so much that he could not keep away from her salon. She had as much understanding of politics as Old Rowley the stallion and Old Rowley the goat—who shared his nickname. Politics to Nell meant one thing: Who gives a dukedom to my lord Burford and makes the noble Earl’s mother a Countess, shall have my support. Danby had been against elevating Nell—doubtless on account of Louise—therefore Nell was Danby’s enemy.