Die Situation für das Königspaar in England war im Jahr 1641 bereits sehr kritisch. Besonders Henriette Maria war von den puritanischen Politikern im Parlament unter schwerem Beschuss. Sie wurde als Erzfeind Nummer 1 betrachtet, die im englisch-schottischen Königreich den Katholizismus wieder einführen wollte und die das Parlament und die Freiheit des englischen und des schottischen Volkes aufzuheben trachtete. An ihre Schwester Christine, der Herzogin von Savoyen, schrieb sie Folgendes: "I swear to you, I am almost mad at the sudden change in my fortune ... Imagine my condition at seeing the king deprived of power, the Catholics persecuted, the priests scattered, our loyal servants removed from us and pursued for their life for having endeavored to serve the king, and me kept here like a prisoner, forbidden even to follow the king who is leaving for Scotland, and with no one in the world to whom I can tell my afflictions, and knowing withal that I must not show any resentment at it. ... The king leaves the day after tomorrow if the Parliament does not restrain him by force; they threaten to. God help us: we need of it." (in: Katie Whitaker: A Royal Passion - The turbulent marriage of King Charles I of England and Henrietta Maria of France, id., p. 215).
"Henrietta was fast becoming the villain she would remain in Protestant English history: 'a papist, a French lady of haughty spirit,' who ... had applied 'her great wit and parts' to stir the king's 'violent purpose' against his subjects, producing 'sad desolations.' Charles 'was enslaved in his affection only to her, though she had no more passion for him than what served to promote her designs,' wrote the Puritan memoirist Lucy Hutchinson. 'Nothing but the mercy of God prevented the utter subversion of Protestantism in the three kingdoms [England, Schottland und Irland].' On Sunday, January 9 [1642], the most fearsome news reached Whitehall: the MPs were preparing 'to accuse Her Majesty of high treason.' Already there were articles ready to 'be put into Parliament against her' when the Commons returned to Westminster in two days' time. ... He [Karl I. Stuart] and Henrietta could afford to remain at Whitehall no longer. [Sie flohen mit ihren älteren Kindern Karl II., Maria und Jakob zuerst nach Windsor; die jüngeren Kinder Elisabeth und Heinrich blieben im St. James's Palast zurück.] They [Karl I. Stuart und seine Frau] agreed that it was not safe for Henrietta to remain in England, facing an imminent treason charge. 'Parliament's violence was so great against me that I had to flee to be sure of my own life,' Henrietta told her sister Christine, Duchess of Savoy: 'they said publicly that a queen was merely a subject and she could be punished like any other. Yet it is not the fear of death that has made me leave, but of a prison separating me from the king which I avow would have been more insupportable than death.'" [Henriette Maria floh mit ihrer Tochter Maria nach Holland.] [Ihr Abschied von ihrem Gatten am 25. Februar 1642:] ... down on the seafront, the royal couple said their sad farewells. Charles, 'deeply moved ... did not know how to tear himself away.' For a long time, he remained near Henrietta, 'conversing with her in sweet discourse and affectionate embraces.' Neither could 'restrain their tears,' lost as they were in 'extreme regret and grief.' Finally, 'after many kisses, many tears,' they drew apart. Henrietta stepped into the royal barge and rowed out to the flotilla's flagship, the Lion ... While Henrietta looked back toward England, Charles mounted his horse and followed her ship eastward along the coast ... At last, when Henrietta's figure disappeared from sight, he lifted his hat and 'waved it around several times, bidding her a very affectionate but very sad and painful adieu.' [Henriette Maria kam noch einmal in den Jahren 1643 und 1644 zu ihm zurück, um dann endgültig nach Frankreich zu flüchten und zwar kurz nach der Geburt ihres letzten Kindes, ihrer Tochter Henriette Anna, am 16. Juni 1644.] Leaving her tiny baby with a little household of caregivers, Henrietta left Exeter in disguise. For more than a week, she was carried in a litter almost to the farthest end of Cornwell ... On July 14 [1644], she sailed for France, even as Charles's northern army was being destroyed in the Battle of Marston Moor." (in: Katie Whitaker: A Royal Passion - The turbulent marriage of King Charles I of England and Henrietta Maria of France, id., pp. 229-230/234/239/248). Letztendlich war Henriette Anna ihr einziges Kind, das bei ihr in Frankreich aufwuchs. Sie muss also kurze Zeit später zu ihr geschickt worden sein.
Henriette Maria in Frankreich im Jahr 1644, beschrieben von der Hofdame der französischen Regentin Anna, Madame de Motteville: "They [ihre Schwägerin Anna von Spanien/Österreich, die Witwe ihres ältesten Bruders, des französischen Königs Ludwig XIII., und ihr jüngster Bruder Gaston, der Herzog von Orléans] took the English queen to lodge in the Louvre, which was then unoccupied; and for a country-house they gave her Saint-Germain. As the king's [Ludwigs XIV.] affairs were in good condition the wars had not yet ruined the royal finances, they gave her a pension of ten or twelve thousand crowns a month, so that in all things she had great reason to praise the queen. The Queen of England was much disfigured by the severity of her illness [Folgen der letzten Geburt ihrer Tochter Henriette Anna] and her misfortunes, no trace remaining of her past beauty. Her eyes were fine, her complexion admirable, and her nose well-shaped. There was something so agreeable in her face that it made her beloved by every one, but she was thin and short; her figure was even deformed, and her mouth, never handsome naturally, was now, from the thinness of her face, too large. I have seen her portraits, done in the days of her beauty, which show that she was very pleasing; but as that beauty lasted but the space of a morning and left her before her midday, she was accustomed to declare that no woman could be handsome after twenty-two years of age. To complete the presentation of her such as I saw her, I must add that she had infinite wit, and a brilliant mind which pleased all spectators. She was agreeable in society, honourable, gentle, and easy; living with those who had the honour to approach her without ceremony. Her temperament inclined her to gaiety; and even amid her tears, if it occurred to her to say something amusing, she would stop them to divert the company. The almost continual suffering she endured gave her much gravity and contempt for life, which, to my thinking, made her more solid, more serious, more estimable than she might have been had she always been happy. She was naturally liberal; and those who knew her in prosperity assured us she had exhausted her wealth in doing good to those she loved. Her favourite, who, so the public said, had a share in the misfortunes of England, was a rather worthy man, of gentle mind which seemed very narrow and more fitted for petty things than great ones. He had the fidelity towards her which ministers usually have; he wanted money, before all else, to meet his expenses, which were large. The princess no doubt had too much confidence in him, but it is true that he did not govern her absolutely; she often had a will quite contrary to his, which she maintained as the absolute mistress. She supported her opinions with strong reasons, but they were accompanied with a charm, a raillery that pleased and corrected the signs of haughtiness and courage which she had shown in the principal actions of her life. She lacked the great and noble knowledge which is acquired by reading. Her misfortunes had repaired that defect, for grievous experience had given her capacity. We saw her in France lose the tottering crown she still wore, lose the king her husband by a dreadful death, and suffer with constancy the adversities it pleased God to sent her." (in: Memoirs of Madame de Motteville, Volume 1, id., pp. 121-123).