Plaidy, Jean - Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II

Often she was able to dismiss that woman from her mind. It is not so, she had told herself. It used to be, but it is no longer. But for all that, she knew that Elizabeth continued as his mistress.

Why? she demanded. Why?

William was not a sensual man like her uncle Charles and her father. Women were essential to them—not so to William. Why then could he not be contented with his wife?

She understood his affection for Portland. She herself had once loved Frances Apsley better than anyone else in the world; it was for this reason that she no longer saw her; she did not want to be tempted again into passionate friendship with a woman.

She accepted Portland’s influence with William. She could tell herself that it was good for a man to have ministers whose fidelity he could rely on.

But Elizabeth Villiers was his mistress and while he was in Ireland he was thinking of her.

She would not allow it. She was after all the Queen and should have some say in matters.

She thought of gentle Shrewsbury and she wondered whether he would have been a faithful husband.

What an extraordinary idea! Her thoughts then skipped to the visit of Monmouth to The Hague. How they had danced and skated together, and if Monmouth had not been so devotedly attached to Henrietta Wentworth at that time and she married to William, there might have been gossip about them. Perhaps there had been, for who knew where gossip was? Did William know how there were always men and women to discuss his relationship with … that woman.

She took up her pen and wrote:

You will have Irish estates of which to dispose. I believe it would be an excellent idea to set up schools on these estates and instruct the Irish. If you will give me leave I must tell you I think that your wonderful success and deliverance should oblige you to think of doing what you can for the advancement of the true religion and the promoting of the Gospel …

She reread what she had written. Would he be angry that she sought to dictate to him. She wanted to cry out: “This you must do and not shower such gifts on your mistress while all London, all the Court, all the country titters behind your back.

“I will not endure it,” she said aloud.

But she knew that when she was face to face with him she would do exactly as he wished.

He would be home soon. Her great plan now was to have Kensington Palace ready for him. In her frequent letters she had told him how progress was going on and she knew that he would consider her very incompetent if it were not ready for him to take up residence when he arrived.

But there was so much to be done; she looked with dismay at the apartments not yet painted. Every day she was at Kensington urging the workmen to work faster, while at the same time they made sure that all the skill of their craft was put into practice.

“The King’s homecoming will be spoilt if Kensington Palace is not ready for him,” she complained.

She herself was planning the gardens with feverish activity. She longed for William’s return and yet at the same time she was terrified that he would come too soon.

She was at Kensington when the news of fresh trouble reached her. The Jacobites were rising in Scotland.

The pleasant trips to Kensington were over; now it was no longer a matter of, Will it be finished in time? It was And who are these Scottish traitors?

There were Scotsmen in London and the Scottish songs were sung in the streets.

Ken ye the rhyme to porringer?

Ken ye the rhyme to porringer?

King James the Seventh had a daughter

And he gave her to an Oranger.

Ken ye how he requited him?

Ken ye how he requited him?

The dog has into England come

And taken the crown in spite of him.

The rogue he shall nae keep it lang

To budge we’ll make him fain again

We’ll hang him high upon a tree

King James shall hae his ain again!

Was there to be no end to it? Would there always be the “Jacks” lurking behind every corner? And how could she sleep peacefully at night when she heard threats against William?

There was a scare when a man and woman were overheard in Birdcage Walk plotting her assassination. The woman was thought to be Catherine Sedley, although there was no real evidence of this. The Queen was guarded but no attempt was made on her life; and the rebellion in Scotland was ended by the capture of the ringleaders. Catherine Sedley was involved with them, but Mary could not allow her to be punished very severely for, after all, had she not been James’s mistress and she must have had some affection for him. How difficult it was to punish those men whose crime was that they were loyal to her own father?

Several of them were in the Tower. She did not want to think of them. How she longed to be back in Holland, tending her gardens, living quietly, peacefully. How she wished that she had never been drawn into this conflict between her father and husband.

Each day she rose wondering what new crisis would be brought to light. She had always been one to form habits and her days ran to a pattern; she awoke at six, had tea brought to her and worked at her papers until eight when she went to prayers; then she worked again through the day until evening when if there were no public engagements she relaxed at her favorite cards; she rarely went to bed before two of the morning. Each day she wrote to William; she had always been a great letter writer and she found it so much easier to write to him than to talk to him.

She had had no reply to her letter about the Irish estates, but William was no letter writer. He was a soldier with serious business to occupy his time; and she, good ruler though she had proved herself to be, was first of all an emotional woman.

Her success as a ruler would have meant nothing to her if William’s campaign had been a failure. She was constantly turning attention from her own achievements to point to his. If the people cheered William, which they never did, that would have given her greater pleasure than their cheers for herself. She longed for the people to appreciate him, to understand why he had taken the crown. It was not for his own glory, she would have them understand; it was to save England for Protestantism.

He would soon be home now. She had heard that he was on the way.

She drove home from Kensington where she had been to see how the building was progressing and there was an anxious frown between her eyes. It would not be ready—she was certain of it now—and he would be very disappointed.

I should have made sure, she scolded herself.

As her coach had turned into the courtyard, the horses shied suddenly; they reared and plunged … onto the statue of James II.

Her hand on her throat, she alighted. She stood for a moment staring at the remnants of her father’s image, which her coach had destroyed. She was shivering, seeing in everything that happened a symbol.

William was home , and as Kensington Palace was not ready the meeting took place at Hampton Court.

She smiled at him, her face illumined with great joy.

The bells were ringing and the people were giving him a welcome. He was uncouth and Dutch with a hooked nose and crooked back, but he was a conqueror for all that. He took Mary’s hand and managed to smile at her. She had done well and her letters with their adulation and deep sincerity had been a comfort to him. He had molded her until she had almost become the wife he wanted; and he was well pleased.

“You see me in a very happy condition,” she told him. “You are home and well. The people know you for the leader you are and that makes me rejoice.”

He answered: “You have done well in my absence.”

His mouth twitched a little at the corners. She had shown herself capable of ruling. She would have increased her popularity. Were the people going to wish that she was the sole Sovereign? Would they say now that they could well dispense with him?

She said: “I shall now be rid of all the troublesome business I was so little fit for.”

“You showed yourself fit,” he told her.

“Perhaps I wished to please you and I always said to myself, ‘What would he do?’ ”

Again that half smile. He was well pleased.

She could not show him a completed Kensington Palace, but she could assure him that she was his devoted docile wife.

It was a happy homecoming.

MARLBOROUGH’S DEFEAT

t was impossible for Marlborough to advance his fortunes in England; and he had no intention of wasting time.

Life was too short, he explained to Sarah.

They took a few days from Court to be together with their family. Henrietta the eldest was now nine years old, and John, four, was the pride of them both. There was also another boy—little Charles. Sarah had great plans for her four daughters; but for her boys she wanted the whole world.

Exciting days. She wished that they could have been longer. Each one was filled to the last minute with the mingling joys of family life and dreaming dreams—practical dreams. Sarah was always practical.

“A successful campaign in Ireland,” Marlborough whispered to her, “and I’ll have the command of the Army.”

“Dutch William wants all the glory, don’t forget.”

“He has his kingdoms to rule.”

“He prefers to lead his armies. Why if he had had the sense to send you to the Boyne the Irish troubles would be all over now.”

Marlborough smiled at her affectionately.

She went on: “He’s spitting blood and I can’t believe he’s much longer for this world. As for Mary, she grows fatter every day and looks well. I would to God she would go back to Holland with him and leave the place free for Anne.”

“You always want to move too fast.”

“And you, my lord, are too slow.”

“They do say that the more haste often means less speed.”

“Nonsense. I continually move fast. I have Anne exactly as I want her. She cannot bear me out of her sight. As soon as Gloucester’s a little older I’m going to get John to Court. He shall be Gloucester’s companion as I was Anne’s. You can’t start too young.”

He laid his hand over hers. “As I said before, be careful.”

She threw him off impatiently. “John Churchill, I know what I am doing. I trust you do.”

They understood each other. They were close; she was dynamic, so it was natural that sometimes she bubbled over with the emotion of the moment; he believed in diplomacy; he had been born with a natural charm which it would have been a sin not to use. Sarah had no such charm; she was impatient of subterfuge. She believed in saying what she meant—although she would not tolerate others being so frank to her.

They were convinced that they would succeed.

But events did not work out quite as they had hoped.

The Cabinet did not wish Marlborough to go to Ireland, but William did; therefore the King persuaded the Cabinet of the wisdom of the move. But, thought William, who was Marlborough? He was a good soldier, but so far he had done little. But for the fact that he had a forceful wife—an obnoxious woman whom he, William, personally disliked intensely and would have preferred to banish from Court—who had bullied the Princess Anne into giving her rich gifts, where would he be? There was a great deal of noise around the Marlboroughs, but what had they done?