The Three Crowns epub

by Jean Plaidy

  When he had been offered Mary he had said that his fortunes were not such as to enable him to think of a wife, but times had changed. Without support it might well be that Holland would become a protectorate of France; but if he married Mary, England would be obliged to stand by Holland. Had he been rash to make such a reply when Mary had been offered him? He did not think so. His reply while it had angered James had made others respect him. It was as well for them to believe themselves to be more anxious for the match than he was. But when Mary was offered again … and it was certain that she would be, his reply would be lukewarm instead of cold.

  William was brave; he had proved himself to be a shrewd and subtle leader, but the forces against him were too strong, and his ministers suggested that the peace terms which were being offered from France should be accepted.

  Now he showed himself in all his strength. He had declared he would fight to the last dyke, he told them, and he meant it. If Holland were not to fall under the French domination she must not give way.

  “There is not a man in Holland who does not desire peace,” he was told.

  “There is one,” he retorted. “I know him well, for he is the Prince of Orange.”

  They admired him; they respected him; they looked up to him, and remembered his noble ancestor. And when he stood before them, his expression cold and stern, they could believe that if there was one man who could achieve the impossible, that man was William of Orange.

  “I saw an old man this morning,” he told his ministers. “He was rowing his little boat against the eddy of a sluice on the canal. Every time he was about to reach his destination the eddy carried him back. I watched him repeat this four times. Every time it happened he took up his oars again. Do you see what I mean, my friends? I am like that old man in the boat and I shall never be beaten as long as I can return to my oars.”

  So in spite of efforts for peace, the war continued.

  There were victories and defeats; neither side was the victor. Louis was tired of the conflict and Charles attempted to negotiate a peace.

  William received Louis’s envoys, prepared, he said, at least to listen to what terms he had to offer.

  When he heard that Louis wanted to suggest a French marriage for the Prince, William considered this.

  Who was the lady? he asked.

  Louis’s own daughter, was the reply. She was very beautiful and her mother was Louise de la Vallière. The King delighted in her and it showed the extent of his esteem for the Prince that he should offer him this favorite girl.

  William was furious. “She is a bastard,” he said coldly. “You should return to the King of France without delay and tell him that the Princes of Orange do not wed kings’ bastards.”

  This refusal and the terms in which it was made, infuriated Louis when he heard it. He vowed that it was an insult he could never forget and consequently would never forgive the insolent Orange.

  William was now more than ever eager for the English marriage. He could not forget the insult Louis had given him by suggesting that he might accept his illegitimate daughter, and only marriage with a Princess of very high rank and with dazzling prospects could give balm to his wounded vanity. He was thinking more frequently of the Princess Mary, eldest daughter of the Duke of York. He was as eager for that marriage as he had been several years before when he had gone to England and been involved in the disgraceful scene outside the chambers of the maids of honor.

  He decided to send for Sir William Temple who was in Holland at this time for the Congress of Nimeguen. Sir William had shown himself a friend to Holland and it seemed to William that he was the man to be trusted with this matter.

  Sir William was a cautious man who rarely took any action without making sure that it was absolutely safe to do so, and although he was a reliable ally he was an unimaginative one. William felt a bond between them and it was for this reason that he decided to call him at this stage.

  Sir William was known to favor Dutch interests, an attitude in which he persisted even though it resulted in a loss of popularity in England, so the Prince was certain that he would be in favor of a marriage between him and Mary.

  When Sir William arrived at the Palace of Hounslaerdyck whither the Prince had summoned him, William came straight to the point.

  “Marriage,” began the Prince, “is a state which a man in my position must consider at some time, and it would seem to me that time has come. I have had proposals from various sources. One from the King of France.” He paused and glanced sideways at Sir William. Would he have discovered that Louis had offered him a bastard? Sir William gave no sign and the Prince enlightened him no further. “In spite of this,” he went on, “if I decided to marry it would be to England that I should look.”

  “I am glad to hear it, Your Highness.”

  “Oh, I have not brought you here as a diplomat. I wish to speak to you of this matter as one friend to another.”

  Sir William intimated that he was very willing to be a friend to the Prince of Orange.

  “I should want a wife who did not give me trouble at home, for I shall be much engaged abroad. Before I married there are certain facts I should want to know about my wife’s character and education. My wife must be a woman who would live well with me and I might not be easy to live with. In fact, certainly those women who live at the various courts today might find it difficult to live with me; the tendencies which displease me are prevalent in the Court of the King of England and that gives me pause for thought.”

  “I believe, Your Highness, that the best marriage you could make would be with England.”

  “Such a union would please me, but I should need to know those facts I mentioned about my wife.”

  “My own wife is a great friend of Lady Frances Villiers who is in charge of the Princess’s household.”

  “Then I would ask you as a friend to command her to give me an account of the Princess Mary. If it pleases me well then I should not be averse to this match.”

  Sir William said he would dispatch a message to his wife without delay; and he doubted not that she would do her utmost to give the Prince of Orange a true picture of the Princess Mary.

  Lady Temple sent glowing accounts of the Princess Mary. She was a charming girl, more beautiful than her sister, skilled in dancing, of good temper, and would almost certainly prove a docile wife; moreover she was young for her fifteen years and could doubtless be molded.

  William liked that description. He sent for his good friend Bentinck.

  “There is no one else whom I would trust with this mission,” he told him. “I wish you to set out with all speed to London. There it will be necessary to negotiate with the Lord Treasurer, Lord Danby. He is the man. I doubt not that your mission will be successful for I know that you always work tirelessly for my good. I want this marriage with England.”

  They discussed each point in favor of such a marriage while they considered the disadvantages.

  “Providing the Duke and Duchess of York do not have a son, this could be a most brilliant marriage for Your Highness,” said Bentinck.

  “It is a chance we have to take,” was William’s answer. “They have tried and failed before.”

  Bentinck agreed that apart from the brilliant prospects of William’s ascending the English throne through his wife, the marriage would still be a good one.

  “Holland is fighting a desperate battle for survival,” said William. “The bravery of the Dutch cannot stand out against the power of Louis. Our Spanish allies are unreliable. Bentinck, we need England. The crown … that is a matter for later.” His eyes glowed. “It will come. In the meantime England, standing with us—as the King will do if his niece is Princess of Orange—can save us.”

  Bentinck, who knew his friend very well, understood that William had no doubt that one day the English crown would be his. He was a man who believed in predestination and he was certain that he was born to rule not only Holland but England, Scotland, and Ireland.

&nb
sp; To be with him was to feel that certainty. Bentinck set off for England with high hopes of success.

  Shortly afterward William of Orange received an invitation from Charles to visit England.

  THE RELUCTANT BRIDE

  The King was smiling across the table at Lord Danby. Poor Danby! he thought lightly. His position is not a happy one.

  “In the circumstances, Your Majesty,” Danby was saying, “the Dutch marriage is greatly desirable.”

  Charles agreed. “The people hate the war with Holland and marriages are the best guarantees of peace.”

  The eyes of the King and his Lord Treasurer met. There were so many secrets which they shared and which it would be advisable, both knew, should never leak out. Danby had helped in those transactions with France which some might consider shameful and which would certainly shock the King’s subjects if they were aware of them; Charles’s secret leanings toward Catholicism, his monstrous promise to Louis, could lose him his throne if they were known. They had much to hide, these two. But the King was nonchalant; he had an infinite belief in his ability to extricate himself from the difficult situations into which he could not resist falling in his continual attempts to provide himself with money which his Parliament would not—and indeed could not—grant him.

  Danby, on the other hand, trying hard to appear calm, could not hide his disquiet. His fall could be imminent. In the streets they were singing lampoons about him. He was the most hated man in England. He had not sinned so deeply as his master; but he would be blamed. Charles had only to flash his famous smile—which was merry and sardonic at the same time—on his subjects and they would forgive him his lechery, and his treachery. Such was not the case with Danby. He could not charm them with his unromantic appearance—his lean figure, his pale face, and his obvious ill health. Moreover, he knew that if Charles’s secret dealings with the King of France ever came to light, it would be Danby who would be blamed for them, not Charles.

  And now the people were restive largely because they hated war. Charles would show them that he was prepared to put an end to the war and that he was no friend of the King of France because Louis would be furious at a match between Holland and England. Perhaps of late his subjects had begun to suspect Charles favored Catholicism.

  “Very well,” said the King. “We will send for Orange. We will show the people that we are anxious for peace with Holland, for can we want to be at war with the husband of our own Princess Mary?”

  “Your Majesty,” said Danby, “the Duke of York will not consent to this marriage.”

  “You must make him understand the importance of it, Danby.”

  “Your Majesty, the Duke of York has not your understanding of affairs. I feel sure he will remind us that you once promised not to dispose of his daughters without his consent.”

  Charles was thoughtful. “It is true I made such a promise. But God’s fish, he must consent.”

  Danby bowed his head. Consent or not, he thought, the marriage should take place. He, Danby, was rushing headlong to his ruin, as Clarendon had some years before. It was not easy to serve a King such as Charles II, a clever man who was in constant need of money and not too scrupulous as to how he acquired it, a man who was ready to conduct his own foreign policy in such a manner that his Parliament knew nothing about it.

  For them both the marriage was a necessity.

  Charles’s shrewd eyes met those of his statesman. He knew what Danby was thinking.

  “You see the need as I do, Danby,” he said. “So, it shall be done. Tomorrow I leave for Newmarket.…”

  James, furious, stormed into his brother’s apartments.

  “I see you are speechless,” said Charles, “so I must help you out of your difficulty as I have so many times before by speaking for you. You have doubtless seen Danby.”

  “This marriage …”

  “Is most desirable.”

  “With that Dutchman!”

  “A dour young lover I will admit, but our nephew, brother. Forget not that.”

  “I will never give my consent to this marriage, and I am her father.”

  Charles raised his eyebrows and gazed sadly at his brother.

  “Without my knowledge Danby has dared …”

  “Poor Danby. He has his faults, I doubt it not … and many of them. All the more sad that he should be expected to carry those of others.”

  “You promised that my daughters should never be given in marriage without my consent.”

  “And, as ever, it grieves me to break a promise.”

  “Then Your Majesty must be constantly grieved.”

  “I fear so, James. I fear so. My dear brother, do try to be reasonable. This marriage must take place. It is more necessary to you than to any of us.”

  “To me! You know I dislike that Dutchman.”

  “He is of our flesh and blood, James, and we loved his mother. Families should live in amity together. He is a dull fellow, I’ll be ready to swear, but he did once try to get at the maids of honor.”

  James shrugged impatiently.

  “And you, James,” went on Charles, “are far from popular. This ostentatious popery of yours is a constant irritant.”

  “And what of yourself?”

  “I said ostentatious popery. You should learn to show proper respect to words, James, if not to your King. Now listen to me. If Mary marries our Calvinist the people will say: How can the Duke of York be such a papist if he allows this Protestant marriage! You need this Protestant marriage more than any of us.”

  “Your Majesty has always been for tolerance.”

  “I am more tolerant than my subjects are prepared to be. You have always known that.”

  “And Charles, is it not your dealings with the French which make you so eager for this marriage?”

  Charles smiled wryly. “As I have said before, I have no wish to be like a grand signor with mutes about him and a bag of bowstrings to strangle men if I have a mind to it. At the same time I could not feel myself to be a King while a company of fellows are looking into all I do and examining my accounts. There, James. That is your brother and King. Tolerance, yes. Let every man worship as he pleases and let the next fellow do likewise. Thus if I wish to be a papist I’d say I’ll be one and that is my affair. And if I make agreements with foreign kings because by so doing I can get what my Parliament denies me—well then, that is my affair too.”

  “And because of this my daughter must marry the Dutchman?”

  “Because of this, James—my follies, your follies, and the follies of those who want to go to war when they could live so much happier in peace. You’ll give your consent, James. Then … we must see that we get the better of our little Dutchman.”

  When William arrived at Newmarket the King greeted him cordially.

  “It is long since we met, nephew, too long. And now you come as a hasty lover.”

  “I would wish first to have a sight of the Princess Mary,” replied William cautiously.

  Charles laughed. “Do you think that we would ask you to make an offer for what you have not seen? Not a bit of it. You shall see her and I will tell you this: there is not a more charming young girl at this Court, nor in the length and breadth of England I’ll dare swear—perhaps not in Holland!”

  William did not smile. He knew that they would attempt to make fun of him as they had before; he had always suspected that Charles had played a part in the maids of honor episode.

  “I shall be delighted to meet her.”

  “And in the meantime, my dear nephew, we will discuss less agreeable matters. We will save the tasty tidbit until the last which I believe is a very good habit. There are the peace terms which I suppose we should consider of the utmost importance. We will go into council here at Newmarket, and then it may be that there will be two great events to be celebrated.”

  William’s lips were tight as he said: “Your Majesty, I could only discuss the terms of peace after the Princess Mary was affianced to me.”

&nb
sp; “Oh come, nephew—business before pleasure you know.”

  “I can do no more than explain to Your Majesty my intentions.”

  Charles showed no sign of annoyance.

  “What did I say,” he appealed to his friends. “Here we see the eager lover.”

  The Lady Frances Villiers sent for the Princess Mary. She was fond of the Princess and yet relieved that very soon she would not be in charge of her. Mary had always been eager to please and gave little trouble; her passionate friendship with Frances Apsley was the only real anxiety she had felt on her behalf; and now there would be no need to worry about that.

  “My lady,” said Lady Frances, “your cousin, the Prince of Orange, has come to Court and His Majesty is anxious for you and your sister to be presented to him.”

  “I heard that he was in England,” replied Mary lightly. She was wondering whether Sarah Jennings would show her a new seal she had. It would be amusing to use it for her letter to Frances.

  “Tomorrow you and your sister will be presented. The King and your father wish him to find you agreeable.”

  Mary wrinkled her brows. “I have heard that he himself is not always considered so.”

  “Who said this to you?”

  Mary lifted her shoulders; she would be careful not to betray the offender. Lady Frances, who knew her well, was also aware that Mary had no realization of the reason behind her cousin’s visit.

  Poor child, thought Lady Frances. She will have a great shock, I fear.

  Mary was pleasant enough to look at, thought Lady Frances. She was trying to see the child with the eyes of a stranger and a would-be lover at that. She would most surely please him. Her complexion was unusually good; her nose well proportioned and her almond-shaped eyes really beautiful. She scarcely looked marriageable; but she had always seemed young for her years—and in any case she was only fifteen.