The Merry Monarch's Wife Read Online Free PDF

and the government more secure.
    Within two years of her dominance, Portuguese independence from Spain was established and there was growing prosperity throughout Portugal.
    We now had some standing in Europe and Donna Luiza was one of its most respected sovereigns.
    There were two offers for my hand which my mother feigned to examine with care, but nothing came of them. My worth had risen. Alfonso might not be recognized universally as king, but my mother could not be ignored; and her daughter was considered an important match.
    And I was getting older.
    â€œIs there never going to be a marriage for the Infanta?” my ladies were asking each other. “Is she going to spend her days as a spinster in Lisbon?”
    I wondered, too. But the dream was still there, incongruous though it might seem. Charles, King of England in name only, was still wandering about the continent, flitting from court to court in search of hospitality. The Puritans still reigned in England. Charles was getting older, as I was—and we were still apart.
    And then one day my mother sent for me and she said, with an excitement rare in her: “There is news from England. Oliver Cromwell is dead.”
    I stared at her in amazement. “Does that mean…?”
    â€œWe shall see,” she replied. “His son Richard will succeed him. Oliver Cromwell was a strong man.”
    â€œAnd Richard…?”
    â€œIt is not easy to follow a strong man. People want change. Whatever they have they dream of something different. They believe that what they cannot get from one they will get from another. Then the disappointment comes and the desire for change.”
    â€œDo the English want change?”
    â€œI am not sure. They are not a puritanical people by nature and are inclined to be pleasure-loving and irreligious. It surprises me that they have endured Puritan rule for so long. But Oliver Cromwell was such a strong man.” There was a grudging admiration in her voice which she tried to suppress.
    â€œWe shall see, daughter, we shall see,” she went on.
    There were plans in her mind. I knew it. I wanted to talk to her but she would say no more. She was not given to speculation. She just wanted me to know that it would not altogether surprise her if the death of Oliver Cromwell was significant, and perhaps it would not be long before there were changes in England.
    I was thinking of Charles more persistently than ever.
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    MY MOTHER HAD BEEN RIGHT when she said it was difficult to follow a strong man like Oliver Cromwell. He had died on the third of September of that year 1658, and less than two years after his death the King was restored to the throne.
    Richard Cromwell, who followed his father, it appeared, was of a likeable nature. Perhaps the same could not have been said of his father, but Richard was pleasure-loving, fond of the sporting life and prone to extravagance, which led to trouble with his creditors. He was certainly no Oliver Cromwell.
    The English were restive. Under Oliver Cromwell they had been kept under control. Now the resistance grew. The truth was that they were tired of Puritan rule, which was alien to them. It must soon have become clear that the majority of them wanted the return of the monarchy.
    Charles was in Breda when an emissary was sent to him to discover whether he would come back to England and take the crown. With the offer came a gift of 50,000 pounds, that he might discharge any debts and equip himself for the journey.
    I can imagine his joy. He was now asked to accept that for which he had fought and struggled for more than ten years.
    He accepted with alacrity.
    And what a welcome he received! I could picture it all so clearly when later he talked to me of that day. I know he never forgot it.
    The people were exultant. I can picture his riding among them. He would have looked—all six feet of him—the perfect king. I knew how he could