He would come to her. Perhaps he was waiting until after the funeral. They would have to be more careful even than before, but he would come.
THE TWICKENHAM INTERLUDE
Anne was completely absorbed in her son. She was looking forward to having a child and as usual she was praying this one would survive; the little Duke of Gloucester was the living proof that she could bear a child that could live and although his health gave cause for great alarm no one could deny that he was not extremely intelligent. Dr. Radcliffe, that blunt man who had little respect for rank yet was reckoned to be one of the best doctors at Court, had said the little Duke’s affliction—he had water on the brain—could mean that his brain was consequently more agile than was normal. In any case the young Duke was the delight and terror of Anne’s life. This was a cause of irritation to Sarah who again and again found herself and her affairs relegated to second place on account of the boy.
Mary’s death and her interview with William had made Anne feel the need to rouse herself from her customary lethargy. There was her boy’s future to protect and as a poor invalid unable to move she felt she could not do all that might be required of her.
Therefore she decided that she must recover the use of her limbs; one of the reasons why she found walking so exhausting was because of her size so she decided to take cold baths to help reduce her weight, to eat a little less—although this was torture to her—and to hunt more frequently. She had always hunted from childhood so this was no hardship.
In her condition she was, of course, unable to ride on horseback and she had had a chair made which was just big enough to hold herself and this was set on high wheels and drawn by one horse. In this she followed the chase indefatigably.
These efforts combined with her determination to improve her health for the sake of her son, had their effects. She was able to walk when her gout and dropsy were not too painful.
She and George would sit together for hours discussing their boy. The child was often with them and was fond of them. They watched him anxiously and were very concerned because of his difficulty in walking straight; it was a perpetual topic between them.
One day Anne said to George: “Something must be done. He is still walking as though he were first learning. He is like a child of two in this respect.”
“I know, I know,” murmured George.
“It grieves me. Do you think there is anything we can do about it.”
“That we can do?” repeated George.
“Do you think that he is not making enough effort to walk?” George was thoughtful, his head on one side. “It might be possible.”
“Then, George, we must make him walk straight. We must make him walk without the aid of his attendants.”
“How so?”
“By …” Anne winced … “punishing him if he does not.”
“Punishing our boy?”
“It is going to be more painful for us than for him, but if it is the only way …”
“If it is the only way …” murmured George.
“George, you are his father. You must do it. You must take your cane and beat him if he will not walk alone.”
“I … beat our boy!”
“I shall feel every stroke, but if it is the only way …”
George looked as though he were about to burst into tears but he murmured: “If it is the only way …”
Anne was determined. She sent for the boy. He came to them, kissed their hands in his grown-up way, but with him were two attendants who walked beside him to steady him and to keep him from swaying from one side to another.
“My dear boy,” said Anne. “Papa and I want you to walk without help. You are old now, you know.”
“Mama, I cannot.” A fear came into the boy’s face. He wanted to explain to them that when he tried to walk alone he was so giddy that he feared he would fall; and when an attendant walked on either side of him, that kept him straight and prevented the giddiness.
“You must, my son.”
“But I cannot, Mama.”
“Papa and I think you could if you tried.”
The boy was for once unable to explain what was in his mind. How could he tell these people who had normal heads what it felt like to carry one which was top heavy and would not allow him to walk as they did.
His face was set in obstinate lines, but all he said was: “No.”
Anne ordered the attendants to stand back. “Now walk,” she said.
“No,” said the boy.
“Papa,” said Anne signing to George.
The boy saw the cane in his father’s hands and looked at it in some astonishment. He could not believe it was intended for him, for never before had he experienced anything but kindness and indulgence from his parents.
“Walk,” said Anne.
He stood there looking at her.
Then he felt the cane across his shoulders. He started with horror that they should do this to him. He could not understand it.
“Walk,” said his father. “Walk alone.”
The cane descended again and again across his shoulders; and suddenly he was aware of the pain it inflicted.
He cried out and began to run … straight out of the room … alone.
George and Anne looked at each other.
“My poor, poor darling!” cried Anne. “But you see, George, it was effective.”
They were both trembling and on the verge of tears. Only they could know what pain it had caused them to inflict suffering on their beloved boy; they could only bring themselves to do it because they earnestly believed it was for his own good.
* * *
A gentle scratching on the door of Elizabeth Villiers’ chamber made her start up in delight. It was the well-remembered signal of happier days.
She ran to the door and flung it open.
“William!” she whispered.
He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him before throwing off the cloak which had completely concealed him.
“I knew you would come,” she cried, almost hysterically. “I knew it.”
“It must not be known that I am here,” he said.
Her spirits sank; he was different—changed toward her. He had surely come to tell her that this was an end of their relationship. How incongruous! The end … now that his wife was dead! All those years they had met clandestinely and he, the stern Calanist, had imperiled his soul by committing adultery for her sake; and now that there would no longer be the need for such sin, he had come to tell her that the relationship was over.
“It has been so long,” she murmured. “I have been so unhappy.”
“I found it long,” he repeated. “I too have been unhappy.”
“And now?”
“I have given a promise to Tenison.”
“But … why?”
“There was a letter she wrote—two letters, one to me, one to the Archbishop. It concerned us. She asked me to end our relationship; and she asked Tenison to extract the promise from me.”
“She would rule you from the grave as she never could in life,” said Elizabeth bitterly.
“I will not be ruled.”
Her smile had become radiant, but he would not look at her.
“Do not imagine,” he went on, “that I have not thought of you over this long time.”
“This long, long time,” she murmured.
“I have thought of ways … and means … and this is what I plan. We must not meet …”
He saw the despair in her face and he was as delighted with her as he had been when he had first discovered the nature of her feeling for him.
“… in England,” he went on. “I will keep my promise. But there is Holland.”
She looked puzzled and he took a step toward her as though to lay his hands on her, but he stopped himself.
“I have decided that you shall have a husband, a husband will give you a position worthy of you.”
“And you?” she asked.
“I shall be
often in Holland; you and your husband shall accompany me there; and there it shall be as it was in the past.”
“I see.”
“This pleases you?”
“I accept as always Your Majesty’s commands,” she answered.
How like her! So clever, and yet so amenable. It had always been so; she had always given him what he needed. He was not a sensual man and the sexual act would never be of the utmost importance to him. He could contemplate this separation without despair; but he would not have her believe that he had deserted her.
He said swiftly: “I am bestowing on you the private estates of James II in Ireland.”
She caught her breath; she would be a rich woman in her own right.
“And,” went on William, “when we have decided on your husband, rest assured I shall give him an earldom.”
She lowered her eyes so that he might not see her exultation.
All her efforts had not been in vain.
* * *
Lewis Jenkins stood by the bed of his little master and he was smiling broadly.
“This is the best day of the year,” he announced.
Gloucester sat up in bed and demanded to know why.
“St. David’s day, the day of the Welsh, and I hope Your Highness will wear the leek in his hat today.”
“Well, Jenkins, as I should be the Prince of Wales if I had my rights I will certainly wear the leek.”
Jenkins put into the boy’s hands one of the ornaments which were made of silk and silver in the shape of a leek and which were worn at Court on St. David’s day by the Welsh.
“So this,” said Gloucester, “is the leek. But of course it is not a real leek.”
“Certainly not, but it is a fair imitation.”
“I like not imitations.”
“Then we will go down to the gardens and I will show you the real leek growing there.”
“I will then compare it with this bauble. Help me dress, Lewis.”
When he was dressed he said: “Do not call any of the others to walk beside me. I must walk alone. Papa beat me for not walking straight. It hurt a great deal. But he did not wish to do it. It was only for my good. And although, Lewis, it is not easy for me to walk straight, I do walk straighter since Papa caned me.”
“I trust it was not too painful, Your Highness.”
“I could see that it was for Papa and Mama,” answered the boy gravely.
In the gardens he examined the leeks. “But these are far more interesting than the silk ones, Lewis. There are layers and layers, and smell them.”
“I am pleased that the leek finds favor with Your Highness.”
The gardener gathered several of the finest leeks and with a bow presented them to the boy.
“I am pleased to accept them, and as I cannot wear them all in my hat, I shall decorate my cannon with them, or perhaps my ship. Lewis, summon my men. It is only fitting that there should be a parade on St. David’s day.”
The boys were summoned and the parade begun, and, the leek in his hat, Gloucester shouted orders and reviewed his men.
When the parade was over he was very tired and Mrs. Buss, who had been his mother’s nurse and was still attached to the royal nursery, said that he should rest for a while.
Gloucester did not care to take orders from his mother’s old nurse but he was exhausted and allowed himself to be led to his bed where he very soon fell into a deep sleep; and when he awoke began to shout orders to his men. His attendants rushing in saw at once that he had a fever.
The alarm spread through Campden House. The little Prince had been poisoned by handling leeks.
* * *
Sarah was sitting by Anne’s bed and her voice went on and on.
“It is a marvelous thing indeed that Marlborough should be allowed to return to Court, should be allowed to kiss those Dutch fingers, should be allowed to declare his loyalty … Oh, a marvelous thing indeed, but Marlborough has a better mission in life than to slobber over that Abortion’s fingers. What of Marlborough, I say? What position is he going to have at Court? None it seems. Is this the way Caliban keeps his promise?”
Anne answered: “It is a scandal, dear Mrs. Freeman. But I don’t trust Caliban, you know. So much and no more, is his way. He has offered me St. James’s Palace and for that I am grateful, but there is no suggestion that I should move in.”
“He offers it because he must. He is giving nothing away.”
“I am sure you are right, but it would be pleasant to be in St. James’s once more.”
“But to return to my Lord Marlborough. He should be given a chance to use his great talents.”
There was a knock at the door, and Sarah swept to it in indignation. “Do you not know that the Princess and I wish to be alone together. What disturbance is this? Go away.”
“My lady, there is news from Campden House.”
“I have told you …”
Anne’s voice broke in imperiously. “News from Campden House! Pray bring the messenger in. I trust my boy is well.”
“Your Highness, the Duke is in a fever. We fear he has been poisoned by the smell of leeks.”
“Poisoned!” cried Anne. “Call my chair, Lady Marlborough. Send for Dr. Radcliffe. Quickly … without delay. I must go to Campden House.”
“Radcliffe is in Oxford,” began Sarah coldly.
“Send to Oxford. I know Radcliffe to be the best man. My chair. Send for it at once and tell my bearers that I must be carried without delay to Campden House.”
Sarah obeyed, fuming. How maddening these delays were. When, oh when, would she be able to get her John where he deserved to be!
* * *
Dr. Radcliffe arrived in due course, and pronounced that the little Duke was suffering from a fever. The boy was bled and in a few days began to recover.
Dr. Radcliffe, however, recommended rest for a week or more, for the little patient after the first recovery developed a slight fever again.
“Keep him in bed,” said Radcliffe, “and keep him amused there.”
When Anne, at the bedside of her son, asked what her darling wanted most, the answer was prompt: “My soldiers. Let them guard the bedchamber. Let Harry Scull come to me. I wish him to do a tattoo on his drum and I will select those who shall build the fortifications about my bed.”
“My dearest boy, should you not rest?”
“How can I, Mama, when I have to be protected by my men.”
“There is nothing to protect you from.”
The boy’s face crumpled then brightened. “Those who will one day wear the crown are always in need of protection.”
Dr. Radcliffe said in his brusque way: “These amusements will do no harm, if he stays in bed.”
“Send my men,” said the Prince, “and I promise to stay in bed.”
So at the Prince’s door were posted his guards, who marched back and forth and challenged all those who would enter. Enough, said Mrs. Buss, to drive you mad, when you came along with a posset to find a wooden sword flourishing under your nose and the basin all but knocked out of your hands.
“Halt! Who goes there? Friend or foe?”
“Friend, you silly boy. I’ve a posset for His Highness.”
“Pass, but you will have to make your way through the fortifications.”
“Drat the fortifications!” said Mrs. Buss.
She and others would have complained, but they knew it was no use. Dr. Radcliffe had wanted the patient to be amused and so they had rowdy boys, playing soldiers all over the place.
Not content with his soldiers, Gloucester called in his attendants and coachmen to take messages as he said through the lines. Lewis Jenkins was always ready to throw himself into the game; Mr. Pratt, Gloucester’s tutor, was pressed into service; and the two that amused Gloucester most were coachmen Dick Drury and Robin Church.
The language of these two was full-blooded and Gloucester liking it, learned it quickly.
“Confound you!” Gloucester would cry. “Go
d damn you, man, can’t you see that gap in the fortifications? By God, I damn you to hell.”
All the young soldiers took up such cries to the concern of Lady Fitzharding, Mrs. Buss, and others.
* * *
Mrs. Buss remembered that a short time ago the Duke had delighted to receive wooden figures of great soldiers in battle-dress; and she believed that if he were presented with a very fine specimen, he might play with this and be lured from his rougher games.
She bought a magnificent figure of a soldier and summoned one of the Duke’s coachmen, a man named Wetherby, to take it to the sickroom with her compliments.
When Wetherby arrived, the Duke was sitting up in bed surrounded by a dozen or so of his “men.”
The Duke heard his guards outside his door halting the arrival, demanding to know whether he was friend or foe and what his mission was.
Wetherby said in a voice which was audible in the sickroom: “I’ve brought His Highness a toy from Mrs. Buss.”
All the young soldiers clambered off the bed and stood at attention.
“Bring him in,” ordered the Duke.
Wetherby came in and laid the doll on the bed. “Mrs. Buss thought Your Highness would like this to play with.”
Gloucester lay back on his pillows and closed his eyes. “Escort the messenger from my apartments,” he said coldly.
Wetherby, agreeing with Mrs. Buss that these boys’ games were enough to drive you mad, left as soon as he could.
As soon as he had gone, Gloucester said: “This is an insult from the enemy. Call a Council of War without delay. Confound it, this is an insult which shall not pass unheeded. A toy to play with! I gave up toys last year!”
The Council was held about the bed, and the order for execution given; the doll was immediately torn to pieces with shouts which echoed through the Palace.
“The bearer was insolent,” said the Duke, thinking regretfully that he dared not punish Mrs. Buss. “He should not go unpunished. Let us decide on his sentence.”
It was decreed that Wetherby should undergo the water torture; and the next day when he appeared at the Palace he was seized by some fifty small boys. They dragged him to the floor, clambered all over him, and bound his feet and hands together. Then they brought water with which they doused him until, breathless and panting, he begged them to desist.
Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II Page 33
