The Three Crowns epub

by Jean Plaidy

  She took the frail little hand and kissed it. She expressed herself charmingly; her gestures were delightful.

  I’ll never give her up, he thought. I’ll defy James and all England if necessary; and I’ll keep Elizabeth … and Mary.

  The Prince of Orange was out hunting but his thoughts were not on his quarry. They were back at the Palace where he had given instructions to a few trusted servants to keep watch for anyone leaving with letters.

  These were to be stopped and searched, and any letters found on them were to be subjected to scrutiny.

  The stratagem worked.

  When he returned to the Palace several letters from Covell to Skelton and from Skelton to his master were laid before him.

  In these it was quite clear that a plot was in progress to bring about the dissolution of the Orange marriage. The Princess was first to be made aware of her husband’s infidelity with Elizabeth Villiers, then to be made to see she could not condone it. The names of Anne Trelawny and the Langfords were mentioned.

  William, having read the letters, sent for Covell.

  There was nothing brave about Covell, and William in a cold rage could be intimidating.

  “Do you admit that you have been plotting against me?” demanded William.

  Dr. Covell, seeing that he could not deny it considering William was holding his letter in his hand, confessed that this was so. He told him that he was acting on instructions from Skelton, who had received his orders from Whitehall.

  “Get out,” said William.

  When he had gone he sent for Mary.

  She came in fear. He studied her coldly for some seconds before speaking.

  Then he said: “I can only believe that you are so stupid that you do not understand you have been the victim of a conspiracy.”

  “I … William?”

  Now she was like the Mary he knew, meek and frightened of him.

  “Yes, you. Your father has decided to marry you to a Papist.”

  She gasped in horror. “But I am married to you, William.”

  “He does not intend you to remain so.”

  “But how could I …?”

  He lifted a hand to silence her. “You have been very weak. You have listened to gossip and believed the worst of me. In so doing you have played into their hands. Your father is a ruthless man. Have you forgotten Monmouth and the Bloody Assizes? Your father is to blame for those tragedies, and now he wants to add another to their number.”

  “He has had to defend his crown, William.”

  “So you make excuses for him?”

  “He is my father.”

  “I wonder you are not ashamed to call him so.”

  “I know that he is mistaken so often in what he does. But it is true, William, that Elizabeth Villiers is your mistress.”

  A quiver of alarm touched him. That vein of strength in her was apt to appear when he believed he had subdued her, to make him never quite sure of her.

  He felt a stirring of panic and said quickly: “She is nothing to me.”

  “William!”

  “But …”

  He would not let her speak, lest she ask questions he could not parry. He had heard the note of joy in her voice. She wanted Elizabeth Villiers to be of no importance to him. She was willing to meet him halfway.

  “Why,” he said, “have you forgotten that you are my wife?”

  “I feared you had forgotten it, William.”

  “It is something I could never forget.” That was true enough. Was she not the heir to the three crowns he coveted? “So let us be sensible, Mary.”

  “Yes, William.”

  “This affair … it was nothing. It meant little to me.”

  “And it is over?”

  “I will never forget that you are my wife. Our marriage is important … to us … to Holland … to England. We have our duty. Let us never forget that.”

  “No, William.”

  He put his hands on her shouders and gave her his wintry smile. He saw the tears in her eyes and knew that he had won.

  When she had gone he sent for Covell, Anne Trelawny, and the Langfords.

  “You should begin your preparations,” he said. “You leave for England tomorrow.”

  Then he sat down and wrote to Laurence Hyde—the King’s brother-in-law—and asked that Skelton be recalled and another envoy sent to Holland in his place.

  Mary was saddened by the loss of her dear friends. She had particularly loved Anne Trelawny and when she remembered how they had been allies in the days of Elizabeth Villiers’s ascendancy in the nursery she felt her departure the more.

  For it was useless to pretend Elizabeth was not William’s mistress. William had said that the affair was of little importance, but he continued it. Elizabeth Villiers seemed slyer and more smug than ever; and now that Mary had been forced to face the truth she could not get it out of her mind.

  Why should she endure this? When William was absent she felt very bold; it was only when he was with her that she told herself she must reconcile herself to her fate.

  William had left The Hague for a short visit inland on official business—actually so this time, for Elizabeth Villiers remained in the palace.

  Why should I stand aside while they conduct this intrigue under the very same roof? Mary asked herself. They think that I acted as I did because Anne Trelawny and Mrs. Langford advised me to. They think I have no will of my own.

  They were wrong. Although she longed for ideal relationships, for peace between her father and her husband, she was not afraid to assert her will when she thought it necessary to do so; she would show them this.

  She sent for Elizabeth Villiers.

  Elizabeth stood before her—sly, always sly, and alert, wondering with what she was about to be confronted.

  “I want a very special and important message to be delivered,” said Mary, and her regal manner alarmed Elizabeth.

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Knowing your discretion and intelligence I am giving you the task of delivering it.”

  “Your Highness can be assured that I shall obey you to the best of my ability.”

  “I am sure you will do well what you must.”

  Mary went to her table and picked up a letter which was sealed with her royal seal. A great deal of thought had gone into writing that letter.

  “You should leave at once,” she said; and as she turned to look at her enemy a fierce jealousy struck at her. What had Elizabeth to offer him? She was clever; no one doubted that. But as far as beauty was concerned she was not to be compared with Mary who had been called one of the most beautiful women in Europe, and although royalty was always given more credit for beauty than it deserved, that opinion was not all flattery. It was true that she had put on too much weight but her hair was still abundant, her dark shortsighted eyes, although they were giving her a great deal of trouble, were still attractive.

  And there was Elizabeth with that extraordinary cast; perhaps that was attractive, that, and her wit and her boldness.

  “To whom is the message to be delivered, Your Highness?” asked Elizabeth.

  “To my father.”

  It gave Mary pleasure to see the start of amazement quickly followed by panic.

  “I beg Your Highness’s pardon but … did I understand …”

  “You understood very well,” said Mary. “You surely do not imagine that I would ask you to deliver an ordinary message … like a page?”

  “No, but …”

  “I wish you to leave within the hour. You will be taken to the coast where a ship will be found for you. I trust you will have an easy crossing.”

  Mary was sure that never in her life had Elizabeth Villiers been so bewildered. Quite clearly she did not know what to say. William was away from The Hague therefore she could not appeal to him, and in his absence, Mary’s orders must be obeyed without question.

  Two of Mary’s male servants came into the room as they had obviously been commanded to.
r />   “Everything is ready,” Mary told them. “You will leave immediately.”

  Nonplussed, Elizabeth could do nothing but follow them; Mary stood at her window watching the departure.

  Now all she had to do was await the return of William.

  William was back at The Hague for two days before he discovered Elizabeth’s absence.

  It was Bentinck who told him. The quarrel between them had been mended, and although William had not apologized—that would have been asking too much—he had implied he was no longer displeased, while at the same time he wanted his friend to know that while he respected his advice on matters of state he wanted no interference with his domestic affairs.

  “My sister-in-law has left for England,” Bentinck said.

  For a moment William was so taken off his guard that he expressed bewilderment.

  “She went on orders of the Princess.”

  William still did not speak, and Bentinck waited for the storm.

  It did not come.

  “I wish you to peruse these letters from Celle and give me your opinion.”

  Bentinck bowed his head. His master’s control was admirable, but he wondered what he would do now, and he was sorry for the Princess, although he admired her action.

  Anne Bentinck, advised by her husband to do so, warned Mary that the Prince knew of Elizabeth’s dismissal. Mary waited for his reaction, but there was no sign that he was in the least affected. William might not have been the slightest bit interested in Elizabeth Villiers.

  But inwardly he was deeply disturbed, because he realized that he did not know his wife. When he believed that he had subdued her, she would act in such a way as to confound him. He had been congratulating himself on the manner in which he had handled her discovery of his intrigue. She had seemed meek enough, ready to see it as he wished her to; and then, when he absented himself, she cleverly got rid of Elizabeth. He could imagine what would happen to Elizabeth when she reached England. Mary was clever enough to have arranged that. She was carrying a letter to James. He could picture what was in that letter.

  How could Elizabeth have been so foolish? She should never have gone to England. She should have escaped to him and told him what had happened.

  But Mary had planned well; Elizabeth had left the Palace in the company of Mary’s servants—who were for that occasion Elizabeth’s guards. Who would have believed it possible that while Mary was playing the docile wife she was making a careful plan to send Elizabeth out of Holland?

  The thought which was never far from his mind came back to torment him. When Mary was Queen of England, with powerful ministers to back her—Englishmen who would work for her—what would her attitude be toward her husband? What would she make him: King or consort?

  It was the burning question which was always between them; it was one he dared not ask her because he was afraid of the answer. He had tried to make her completely subservient to his will and he so frequently believed he had succeeded; then—usually choosing one of his absences—she would show that she could have her own way.

  Their relationship would never be a comfortable one until this question was answered. He could never show her that he was an affectionate husband until she said to him: “When and if the crown of Britain comes to me, you shall still be my master.” That was what he wanted from her; if she would give it, he would be prepared to treat her with respect and affection (although he would never give up Elizabeth). Until then, he would be cold to her, because he was uncertain of her.

  He was miserable. Mary baffled him; and Elizabeth, the balm of whose company he needed, was gone.

  But he told no one this; he asked no questions of anyone concerning her.

  Nor did he mention to Mary that her action had angered him.

  It is true, she thought. Elizabeth Villiers was not important to him.

  Once she was safely on the boat which was to carry her to Harwich, Elizabeth’s captors relaxed their vigil, while she sat huddled against the wind and cursed her bad luck. What was she, who had made herself so comfortable in Holland, doing on a boat which was carrying her to England?

  What would William say when he returned and found her gone? She knew William well. He would deplore her loss but he would do nothing about it. What could he do? He was not a man to rant and rave about something that could not be altered.

  Who would have believed Mary capable of such a plan! But Mary was often deceptive. She had been in the old nursery days. But for the fact that she was so sentimental and, strangely enough, over-modest, she would have got far more of her own way. Mary was a dreamer who wanted others to dream with her.

  But why waste time thinking of Mary now! Her plan had succeeded, Elizabeth had left Holland, and that was an end of that. What Elizabeth had to think of now was how to get back to Holland.

  She touched the letter which was in her pocket. A letter to the King. She could imagine what was in it. “Keep this woman in England and do not let her return to Holland.” That was almost certain to be the gist.

  And was she going to be so foolish as to present that letter to the King and meekly accept a lodging, possibly in the Tower?

  When they reached England her captors were at her side.

  She said: “I have to await an answer from my request to the King. I propose to have a message sent to him telling him I come from the Princess. In the meantime I shall lodge at my father’s house.”

  This seemed reasonable and her guards accompanied her to the house of her father, Colonel Villiers, in Richmond. There her father welcomed her warmly for he knew of her position at The Hague and that of all his children she was, through her connection with William, the most influential.

  As soon as she was alone with him she told him what had happened.

  He listened gravely and said: “If James reads that letter you will never return to Holland.”

  “So I believe.”

  “You know what is happening here? There is trouble … Each week there are further complaints of the King’s rule. What the people dread is that James will have a son who will be brought up as a Catholic and thus we should have Catholicism back in England. They will never endure it. If the Queen has a son there will be big trouble.”

  “You think that they will ask James to abdicate and set Mary in his place.”

  “They might ask it, but James would not go. He is a fanatic, I do assure you. But that is for the future. More immediately, what of your future, my dear?

  “I want to return to The Hague as soon as possible.”

  “Before delivering that letter?”

  “I should not be such a fool as to deliver that letter to the King.”

  “Where is it?”

  She brought it out and showed him.

  “Her Highness’s seal,” said the Colonel. “Well, we must break it in a good cause.”

  They did so and read the letter which was, as Elizabeth had suspected, an account of how the bearer, Elizabeth Villiers, was the mistress of the Prince of Orange and the Princess asked her father not to allow her to return to Holland.

  “Well?” said the Colonel.

  “There is only one thing to be done with such a document,” answered Elizabeth briskly, leaning forward and holding it in the flame of the candle.

  Her father watched her with amusement. “And now?”

  “I will rest, for I am tired. While I sleep you must prepare an account of everything you know is happening here. At dawn I rise and ride for Harwich. With a good wind I shall soon be back in The Hague.”

  Anne Bentinck presented herself to Mary.

  “Your Highness, my sister Elizabeth is in the Palace and asking to be received.”

  Mary said: “I do not wish to receive her.”

  “But Your Highness, her place …”

  “Your sister has no place in my service.”

  Anne Bentinck retired to tell Elizabeth that she would have to leave the Palace at once; for Anne’s husband had forbidden her to shelter her sister and a
s Anne was as docile a wife as Mary often was, she dared not disobey him.

  When she was alone Mary asked herself why her father had failed her. Surely he would not, as he was trying to break her marriage with William. But of course Elizabeth had not given him the letter. She had guessed its contents, or read them.

  In any case she was not going to have her back as a maid of honor. William might attempt to insist but she would stand out even against William.

  Elizabeth was waiting for William in a small anteroom of the palace.

  They embraced and she told him how Mary had planned to be rid of her.

  William nodded. “She astonishes me.”

  “And me. Will you command her to take me back?”

  “No,” said William. “Not yet. I think she would stand against it.”

  “And you will allow her to?”

  “For the time, I can do nothing else.”

  Elizabeth was surprised but too clever to show her surprise. He was, then, afraid of Mary. Well, he had to remember that if ever the crown of Britain came to him it would be through Mary, for Anne and her children would stand between his inheriting it in his own right.

  Elizabeth accepted this. She had much to tell him. There was above all the information she had collected from her father in England.

  “I made him sit up all night that he might write a clear account of what was happening there. I thought you would find it useful.”

  William pressed her hand.

  “For the time,” he said, “go to your sister Katherine. I will visit you at their house. And later …”

  She kissed his hand.

  “Later,” he went on, “you shall come back to Court.”

  William Bentinck had a commission to carry out for his master.

  Bentinck guessed for whom the Prince was buying the necklace, and was sorry for the Princess, for a few months after Elizabeth’s return she was back in the Palace wearing a diamond necklace.