Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II (21 page)

Some had suggested that William should be King, for after all he was the next male in the line of succession; but there was great opposition to this. In spite of his English mother he was a Dutchman, and there were two English princesses who came before him.

Lord Danby, who hoped that if he showed his support for Mary, she would make him her chief adviser when she arrived in England, wrote to her, giving her accounts of all that was happening.

“It is my desire,” he told her, “to set you on the throne alone and I do not doubt that I shall do this.”

So confident was Danby that the Queen would be delighted with his endeavors and so certain was he that he could persuade the rest of the ministers to follow him, that he summoned a further meeting to which he invited William.

On receiving the invitation William sent for Bentinck.

“What do you think of this?” he asked.

“They are going to put some proposition before you.”

“I have no intention of going to hear it. I find it most undignified. I shall remain aloof.”

Bentinck nodded. “It is better so. I believe Danby is going to suggest that the Princess of Orange shall be the sole sovereign.”

William’s lips tightened almost imperceptibly, but Bentinck who knew his beloved friend and master well was aware of the change of expression.

“I shall never be my wife’s gentleman usher!” said William furiously.

“You may rely on me to make that plain.”

So it was Bentinck who attended the meeting on behalf of his master and he made it clear to the assembly that their terms were unacceptable to William.

Danby was furious.

“The only proposition which would be acceptable to my master,” Bentinck explained, “would be a conjunctive sovereignty, and then there would be a condition that he should have sole administration of affairs.”

Danby said there was no point in continuing with the meeting.

But when he received Mary’s reply he was taken aback.

“I am the Prince’s wife,” she wrote, “and would never be other than what should be in conjunction with him; I shall take it extremely unkindly, if any, under pretence of their care for me, should set up a divided interest between me and the Prince.”

Mary sent a copy of this letter to William and when he read it he smiled in triumph. He had known he could rely on her; he had subdued her completely; he had made that shuddering bride into a docile wife.

He showed the letter to Bentinck. “Now I think,” he said, “we can afford to take the strong line and I will see them. Summon them and tell them that I will make my feelings clear to them.”

And when they came he looked at them coldly and there was disdain in his expression for that which they treasured so highly and for which they thought he yearned. He was going to show them the contrary.

“I think it proper to let you know,” he said, “that I will accept no dignity dependent on the life of another. I will not oppose the Princess’s right; I respect her virtues; none knows them better than I do. Crowns to others may have charms, but I will hold no power dependent on the will of a woman. Therefore if your schemes are adopted, I can give you no assistance in the settlement of the nation, but will return to my own country.”

They were dumbfounded. Was this a monstrous piece of bluff? They could not believe he was ready to throw away so much merely because he was not offered the supreme prize. But what would happen if he returned to Holland? Chaos! James’s friends might even ask him to return.

They talked together for a while and they dared not call his bluff because they had seen Mary’s reply to Danby’s suggestion. What if William returned to Holland, would Mary come to England? Would she leave a husband for whom she had such a regard? William of Orange had proved himself to be an astute ruler. He had strengthened his country and made her of importance in the world. England needed Dutch William unless they preferred to be saddled with Catholic James.

“Nobody knows what to do with him,” was the comment, “but nobody knows what to do without him.”

Danby said: “This is a sick man. He cannot live long. Let us give him what he wants. Then when he is dead Mary will be our Sovereign. She will not interfere, for if she is docile to him so will she be to us. This is the answer. A King and a Queen … until he is dead.”

The decision was made. King William III and Mary II should be joint sovereigns of England.

William’s reply was that this was a proposition which he could accept.

“There is one point to be settled,” pointed out Danby. “This concerns the Princess Anne. By right of succession she should be Queen on the death of her sister. This is unacceptable to William. Therefore we must get her consent. She will have to agree that William shall be King in his own right and that she and her heirs will inherit the throne if Mary and William were without heirs of their bodies.

Thus the matter was settled, but for the consent of the Princess Anne.

Sarah shouted in
her rage: “The impudence! It would seem to me that Dutch William is coming very well out of this matter—and at whose expense? Yours, Mrs. Morley. King … King in his own right! How can that be when you are next to your sister Mary?”

“I have heard that he refuses to stay here if they do not agree.”

“Then let him go. We can do very well without him in Whitehall. Let him go back to his dykes and canals. He looks like a scarecrow. I am not surprised your sister wept day and night when she heard they were marrying her to that Dutch … abortion!”

“Dear Mrs. Freeman, you will be heard. What if tales were carried to him?”

“Let them be carried! I care not that he should know what I think of him.”

“Do not forget he will be the King.”

“Madam, do you think I care for Kings when I see my friend Mrs. Morley robbed of her rights?”

“But what must I do, dear Mrs. Freeman?”

“Refuse! The Princess Mary should be Queen and Caliban her Consort; and when Mary dies then it should be your turn.”

“It seems that the Parliaments are prepared to give him what he wants.”

“Parliaments! Who cares for Parliaments?”

“Oh, dear,” sighed Anne. “How tiresome life has become.”

There were many
separations in the married life of John and Sarah Churchill and whenever they could be together they took advantage of it.

John was now at Whitehall and able to see his wife frequently, and on this occasion he had something very serious to say to her. They went down to their home near St. Albans, there to spend a few days with their children. There were five of them now: Henrietta, Anne, Elizabeth, John, and Mary. Sarah counted herself lucky when she considered Princess Anne who had lost all hers.

John was thoughtful as they left London and, knowing him well, she sensed there was something on his mind.

“You had better tell me what it is,” said Sarah grimly.

He gave her a fond smile. There was little she missed.

“I have much to tell you,” he said.

“Good news?”

He nodded.

“Then tell me quickly. I like not to be kept in the dark.”

“We took the right road.”

“Of course we did.”

“Bentinck has talked with me … made me promises.”

“What, John, what? What a maddening creature you are! Don’t you know I am the most impatient woman in the world when there is news of my family?”

“How would you like to be a Countess?”

“John! Stop this teasing. I will not have it, I tell you.”

“You may well be ere long.”

“An Earldom. Is it true then?”

“Not yet, there is a condition. Bentinck has implied that titles and honors can be ours. Oh, my dear Sarah, what a clever woman you are! Already they realize that you can do what you will with Anne.”

“And the condition is?”

“That she agrees to their conditions. Joint Sovereigns. This shall not be the reign of Mary and her Consort but of William and Mary. Not much to ask for an earldom.”

“But what if they should have a child?”

“William is impotent.”

“And cross-eyed Betty Villiers?”

“It is a blind. He would have the world think him a man when he is only half one.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes.

“An earldom,” she murmured.

“And that would not be all.”

Her smile was triumphant. “Why, John,” she said, “Do you think what I think?”

“The Churchills shape the future of England.”

She laughed and put her hand in his.

“I shall see that fat Morley agrees to stand aside for Caliban.”

She loved her children; the days spent with them in the country were something to look forward to; but all the time she was longing to be back at the Cockpit, for she could scarcely wait to take those steps which would lead her to that earldom.

Playing with the children, riding with John, they talked of nothing else.

“The Earl of …” Sarah said again and again, putting her head on one side and looking at him with pride.

“What say you of Marlborough?”

“Marlborough.” Sarah tried it on her tongue. “It is a grand sounding name.”

“It was a name which was once in my family. The Leys were Earls of Marlborough.”

“Marlborough!” cried Sarah. “Oh, I like it.” She threw her arms about him. “Oh, my Lord Marlborough, what a happy day this is!”

John cautiously reminded her that the title was not yet theirs. There was work to do first.

So during those days which should have been completely contented, Sarah yearned to be back at the Cockpit.

The Princess Mary
of Orange was growing more and more anxious as she drew near to her native land. This was not the best motive for returning; and in any case she had no wish to return. She remembered how, when she had last looked at the receding coast of England she had seen it through a mist of tears and had believed that to throw herself overboard would have given her greater pleasure than anything else. It seemed incredible that now she should be wishing that the boat would turn and take her back to Holland.

But she had changed since the days when she had been a weeping bride. She had come to love William, to think only of William’s good and William’s desires, and to make them her own.

She had wanted the perfect marriage and she assured herself she had found it. Oh, she would be ready to admit that others might not realize the worth of William. He was a great leader, a great hero; and if he was at times brusque—even uncouth—that was because he hated hypocrisy and pretence of any sort; also he suffered acutely and that everyone knew could make the temper short. William was the most wonderful man in the world; the perfect husband, and Mary would not allow herself to think otherwise.

Obediently she had hated her father when William wished her to although James had always been kind to her; sometimes now she remembered those occasions when he had taken her on his knee and made her talk to the people who came to see him on business, declaring that she understood all that was said. She had believed the evil reports she had heard of him; and when Anne and others had told her of the wicked lengths to which he was ready to go to bring Catholicism back to England—even so far as to introduce a spurious baby in a warming-pan into his wife’s bed—she was ready to believe that too. She knew that Elizabeth Villiers was William’s mistress and she tried not to believe that. Elizabeth was with her now and she was wondering whether his friendship with her would continue when they were in England.