Jean Plaidy - [Queens of England 10]

by The Queen's Devotion: The Story of Queen Mary II

  When I saw Anne, I could not help showing my disapproval.

  “How could you do such a thing?” I demanded. “To go behind our backs and have this matter raised in Parliament. Do you know what demands are made on state funds? Do you know that there is a war threatening in Ireland? And you can behave in this underhand way … bringing the matter to Parliament!”

  Anne blinked at me, looking helpless and maltreated.

  “I am in debt,” she said. “I must be able to live. If I cannot have some money I shall have to retire into private life. I cannot go on.”

  “Anne,” I cried. “You are being foolish. You have been persuaded to this and I know by whom. It is Sarah Churchill, is it not? Trust that woman to make mischief!”

  “It is my own need which forces me. I am treated with unkindness, as though I am of no importance.”

  “Tell me when the King or I have ever been unkind to you.”

  She muttered that she could think of one occasion. It was just before the birth of little William and she had had a great fancy for green peas. It was early in the season and there was only a small dish on the table. Oh, how she had wanted those green peas! It was due to her pregnancy, of course. Women had such fancies at these times. And what had William done? He had taken the dish of peas to himself and eaten them all under her eyes!

  I could have shaken her. She was so foolish at times. All the same, there was a certain cupidity in her eyes and when she remembered that she was the Princess and in line to the throne, she could play the autocrat.

  Now she repeated that she could not afford to live in her present state if she did not have more money.

  I looked at her steadily. I had more than once been reminded of that obstinate streak in her nature. I shall never forget an incident in our youth when we were walking together in Richmond Park and she saw an object in the distance and said: “There is a man over there.”

  She was shortsighted, as we all knew, and sometimes mistook one object for another. I said to her: “No, sister, that is not a man. It is a tree.”

  In her stubborn way she insisted that it was a man and when we were so close that even she could see clearly that it was a tree, she insisted, “It is a man. I still say it is a man.”

  I thought of that now as I saw the same obstinacy in her face.

  She said: “My friends are determined to make me a settlement.”

  Anger rose in me. “Pray tell me, what friends you have but the King and me.”

  I was so annoyed with her that I walked out of the room and left her.

  It was the biggest rift that there had been between us and I knew we should never be the same to each other again.

  The outcome was a compromise about the money. She was to have £50,000 a year, and William would pay her debts.

  I was very unhappy at this time. My father was constantly in my thoughts. I was upset by the rift with Anne; William was very occupied and I saw little of him. Nothing seemed as we had hoped.

  We had come to England at the invitation of the people—or some of them who wanted to be rid of my father—and although they welcomed me with affection, they did not like William. It was impossible to stop certain Dutch customs creeping in and the English did not like them. There was also resentment against Dutch in high places. William was never affable in company, although it was said that he could be talkative with his Dutch friends, with whom he sat sometimes in the evenings drinking their native schnapps.

  On one occasion William said to me: “I do not understand these people. I would as leif be back in Holland. Perhaps I should return and leave you to govern.”

  I was horrified at the thought and would have been more so had I believed that he meant it. He would never leave. Now he was disillusioned and weary. Possession of the three crowns was not what he had thought it would be. But what in life ever is?

  I was very unsettled during that time. Constant anxiety about my father, eagerness to please William, being aware of his restlessness and dissatisfaction, made me reckless for a while.

  The years of seclusion in Holland had had a deep effect on me. I wanted to be with people all the time. I needed lively conversation; I wanted to share in everything that was going on. I was like a person who had been abstemious too long and suddenly becomes intoxicated.

  I needed gaiety as I never had before; I had publicly turned from my father while, inwardly, I yearned to be as we had been before; I wanted to be back in those days when the court had been merry and the King sauntered in the park with his friends about him and people watched him and laughed and felt that life was good.

  They watched us now. They saw ladies in the Dutch costume, prim enough to make the onlookers smirk. They called the avenue at Hampton Court the Frow Walk. How the passing of a king could change the ways of a nation!

  Perhaps I acted foolishly. I wanted life around me. I went to the theater. The King and Queen cannot go to the theater and no one know. I chose to see Dryden’s Spanish Friar. It had been a favorite of my uncle Charles, but too late I remembered that my father had banned it because it was not complimentary to the Church of Rome. It was a most unfortunate choice, for it was easy to compare what was happening in the play with our own story.

  Everyone knew I was anxious about events in Ireland, that some of our soldiers were there and being harried by my father’s supporters. There was a tense silence when the Queen of Aragon, who had usurped the throne, was on her way to church to ask God’s blessing for the army which was marching against the King.

  All eyes were turned on me and I was very uncomfortable, being watched throughout the performance.

  Before I went to the theater again, I would read the play which was to be performed.

  It hurt me that some people thought I rejoiced in my father’s downfall. How I wished I could explain how I really felt!

  In my search for excitement, I visited the Indian Houses which were fashionable shops and which had recently come into being. They were full of unusual and amusing merchandise and the ladies of the court often visited them. I did not know at this time that they were also used for arranging assignations—a practice which had grown up during my uncle’s reign.

  The women who managed them were worldly wise and the best known among them was a Mrs. Graden, who, in addition to her other business, sold some fine ribands and all sorts of fascinating items for a lady’s wardrobe.

  I went with some of my ladies and had a most amusing time. Mrs. Graden was so overcome by the honor of a visit from the Queen that she insisted on giving us refreshment.

  Others in the same profession were a little piqued by the attention given to Mrs. Graden and perforce I must visit the other shops and buy goods from them. I remembered how Mary Beatrice had been attracted by the Indian shops and had visited them several times.

  When the news of these visits reached William’s ears, he was horrified and wanted me to know it. We were at dinner together, and, in his usual way, he did not wait to speak to me privately, but asked me there if I thought such behavior wise. This was in the company of several people and was said in a voice which indicated severe criticism.

  “I hear that you make a custom of visiting bawdy houses,” were his words.

  I was astounded, and then suddenly I realized what he meant.

  I said: “Do you mean the Indian Houses?”

  “I mean what I say. Perhaps next time you decide to go I should come with you.”

  I was amazed. “Many people visit these shops,” I said. “My father’s wife often did.”

  “Do you intend to make her an example you should follow?”

  I did not want to enter into a discussion with him in public, so I murmured something about making some interesting purchases at the shops.

  He said no more about it and I thought perhaps I had been rather indiscreet to visit the places, and when I discovered what went on there, I did see what William meant.

  I should not visit them again, but I could not resist calling Mrs. Wise.r />
  Mrs. Wise was well known throughout the court for living up to her name. She had special “powers” and had been known more than once to see into the future.

  I had heard about her predictions from the Countess of Derby who, since I had been in England, had been my Mistress of Robes. I had brought one or two Dutch ladies with me, and the only other English women I had were Mrs. Forster and Mrs. Maudaunt.

  They had all been whispering together and when I asked what had excited them, the Countess was loath to tell me.

  At length I insisted, and she said: “It is nothing but tattle, Your Majesty. These things will be.”

  Still she was reluctant, but finally I prevailed on her to tell me.

  “Mrs. Wise says that King James will come back to England and that heads will fall.”

  “I see,” I replied. “Do people believe her?”

  “There is always talk when such things are said, Your Majesty.”

  “And this Mrs. Wise, has she a good reputation for foreseeing the future accurately?”

  “Like most of these people, she has had her successes,” said the Countess. “They say something, which by good luck comes true. But they are often wrong.”

  “I should like to see this Mrs. Wise,” I said.

  “Oh, madam,” gasped the Countess. “Do you think … ?”

  “I should like to see her for myself,” I said firmly.

  “If people knew … they would speak of it. They would feel you must think highly of her to visit her.”

  “I want to see her. I want to ask her questions.”

  “Your Majesty … should you go … openly … as you did to the Indian Houses?”

  I could see William’s cold eyes reprimanding me, and the wondering looks from those about me. Why does the Queen allow this man to talk to her so? they were asking themselves. He is the King by her courtesy. But she is his wife, I thought, and to him she owed obedience. I had learned this from Gilbert Burnet.

  William would not, of course, approve of my visiting Mrs. Wise, but I was going to do it all the same.

  My women enjoyed the secrecy we must employ. It gave a spice to the adventure, and I went to Mrs. Wise.

  She was a woman who did not win my confidence from the first. I could see she was a little shaken by my visit. She had made a pronouncement which she knew would not have pleased me and she was a little uneasy about my visit. I soon discovered that she was an ardent Catholic and I guessed that was why she had made the prophecy.

  She was sycophantic, overwhelmed by the honor, she said, and she feared her humble talents were not worthy to serve me.

  This, she insisted, prevented her from looking into my future, and she had nothing to tell me. All she could see was that I had been in Holland and had gone there at an early age. She could see nothing beyond that.

  She tried to give the impression that the powers were so overwhelmed by my majesty that they felt it would be improper to prophesy my future.

  I could not help laughing to myself at this foolish woman, and I came away with the certainty that she made her prophecies to fit the occasion.

  I was relieved that William did not discover that I had visited Mrs. Wise.

  THAT YEAR WAS COMING TO AN END. It had begun in triumph and was ending in melancholy. I was glad when it was over. But the new year seemed almost more alarming, for it was becoming clear that the situation in Ireland could not be allowed to continue as it was.

  William must send an army to face that which was gathering about my father. This would be a battle between Catholics and Protestants. Ever since the conflict had started, I had dreaded the thought of my husband and father coming face to face in battle.

  It seemed now that it was inevitable, and during the first month of that new year of 1690 I began to wish that I was no longer on earth, so that I need not know the outcome.

  It was no use trying to tell myself that my father was in the wrong. He was—but he was my father and I could not forget my happy childhood and the love there had been between us. How cruel life had been to give me William as a husband, the one man who must be my father’s enemy. And here was I … caught between them.

  Yes, it was true, at times I did wish that I could die before that battle took place. I was so torn between them. My duty was to both of them, but what could I do? I was married to William and the scriptures say that a woman must cleave to her husband, forsaking all others.

  Dr. Burnet had assured me my duty was to my husband. I must remember that. But I was dreading that confrontation, with such intensity that I would rather die than face the result.

  And through those unhappy months preparations for war continued.

  I REALLY BELIEVED THAT William sometimes wished he had never come to England. The people continued to show their dislike of him. It had been different in Holland. The Dutch did not expect the same of their rulers as the English did. Moreover, the glorious euphoria of the Restoration was close enough for people to remember. They wanted to laugh and be merry; they wanted excuses for celebrations; dancing in the streets, being delightedly shocked by the King’s amorous adventurings. And what had they in his place? War threatening and a monarch who never smiled and who hardly ever appeared in public.

  But they did like me. William said: “I am beginning to think it would be better if I went back and you reigned in my place.” He gave one of his mirthless smiles. “They would not have that. They would rather have me than a woman ruling over them.”

  One of those rare streaks of rebellion rose in me and I said: “One of the most successful monarchs this country has ever had was a woman. I refer to Queen Elizabeth.”

  “Hm. She was surrounded by good ministers.”

  “Whom she had chosen,” I reminded him.

  He did not answer, but he gave me a strange look; and in that moment a determination was born to me. If I had to rule—which I might well do if he went to Ireland—I would do everything within my power to succeed.

  The thought was gone almost as soon as it came. I dreaded the idea, not only because of his going into combat against my father but also because I should be alone.

  Dr. Burnet came to see us one day. We were together when we received him. We looked upon him as one of our closest friends, for he had supported us from the beginning.

  He had had a plan put to him and he thought we should consider it.

  “I know Your Majesties’ feelings in this matter,” he said. “The Queen is uneasy to be in conflict with her father and it would seem Your Majesties might see a hope of avoiding confrontation.”

  I was all eagerness to hear.

  “The plan is that a ship manned by trusty men should call at Dublin, letting it be known that they had come with the intention of joining King James, who should be invited to come aboard. When he does so, the ship should immediately sail for some port—say in Italy or Spain. When the port is reached, the King should be given a sum of money and left there. Without the King, the forces in Ireland will soon be disbanded and conflict averted.”

  William considered. I imagined it was something which might have appealed to him if it had been practical. But would my father be so careless as to go aboard? And alone? It did not seem likely. But recklessness had been the theme of his life. It had brought him to the position he was in at this moment.

  There was another thought which occurred to me. Suppose they took him to Holland? How would the Dutch feel toward an admiral who had beaten them so often in battles?

  “I will have no part of it,” I said, though I knew that the alternative was conflict with William and his army.

  William, I was relieved to see, was in agreement with me. I liked to think that the same possibility had occurred to him, but I suspected he saw the scheme as impractical and, even if it succeeded, likely to prove only a postponement of the battle. My father would still be there to fight another day.

  So we declined to consider it, though I fancy Gilbert Burnet was disappointed.

  WE WERE NOW MOVI
NG TOWARD the time for departure and William must very soon be on his way to Ireland, and I was to rule in his absence.

  I felt a certain strength which I had not known I possessed, and the task did not seem so formidable as it had when William was there. It may be that, in order to turn my mind from fears for William’s safety and anxiety about my father, I endeavored to give my entire attention to the immense task before me.

  I was surrounded by ministers to help me, the chief of which was Lord Caermarthen, who had been Lord Danby, Lord Devonshire, Lord Nottingham, Admiral Russell and Lord Monmouth. Lord Monmouth was not related to Jemmy. The title came through his mother, who was descended from the Earl of Monmouth, and William had given the title to him, in order to impress on Jemmy’s son that it should never be his.

  I did not greatly care for any of these men. Most of them were ambitious, self-seeking; as for Lord Monmouth, I had always thought he was a trifle mad, though good-natured enough, and perhaps more honest than some, though not, alas, reliable.

  I could see I should have a hard task before me, and yet I welcomed it.

  I was discovering that I was not the feeble woman William seemed to think I was, and which he had made me feel was true. Neither my sister Anne nor I had been well educated, but whereas Anne had taken advantage of the lack of supervision and hardly ever exerted herself, I had always wanted to learn. I saw now how good for me that period of seclusion in Holland had been, for I had spent a great deal of time in reading, when I was not having discourse with people like Gilbert Burnet and Dr. Hooper; and, although our discussions had been mainly of theology, politics had often been one of our subjects. So it was with a thrill of excitement that I had discovered that I was not as ill-equipped for the task as I had feared I might be.

  I went to the Palace of Whitehall when William left. George, Anne and little William came there, too. I think we might have forgotten our grievances and been as we used to be, but for Sarah Churchill.