The Queen's Devotion: The Story of Queen Mary II (17 page)

I said coolly: “Jane Wroth is a member of my household. She is therefore my concern. I believe it was my duty to see right done to her.”

This change in my attitude disconcerted him, and he became wary. I knew that, apart from the moral issue, I had done right to stand out against him in this.

Dr. Ken, who must have been listening in the next room, chose that moment to knock on the door and ask leave to enter.

“Yes, come in,” cried William. “I hear you have taken upon yourself to arrange a marriage for my kinsman.”

“A belated but necessary ceremony,” said Dr. Ken.

“You are impudent,” retorted William, and I believed he was venting the rage he felt toward me on Dr. Ken.

“You come here instructing the Princess to disobey my wishes.”

“It was my own decision,” I said, feeling strong with Dr. Ken beside me.

“I have no doubt he advised you.”

“The Princess is capable, and has the right, by reason of her rank, to make her own decisions.”

He was reminding William that he must be careful in his treatment of me, and I saw William's eyes glint in anger.

“You are an interfering priest,” he said. “Pray in future leave matters which are beyond your understanding to those whom they concern and keep your notions of what is right and wrong for those who wish to hear them. And remember this: I will not have you meddling in the affairs of this country.”

“I have come here to practice my calling,” replied Dr. Ken. “And nothing will prevent my doing that.”

“
I
shall prevent your arrogant interference in my affairs,” said William.

“Your Highness, I cannot be obstructed in my duties and shall make preparations to return to England without delay. I believe there are some there who will be interested to hear of the harsh treatment which is accorded to the Princess.”

William said: “Leave as soon as you wish. It cannot be too soon in my opinion.”

With that he left us.

I looked at Dr. Ken in dismay.

“You cannot go,” I said.

“I have no alternative.”

I had drawn courage from this man. I needed him to be with me.

“I shall feel so alone without you,” I said.

“There is no reason to. The Prince is an ambitious man. He dare not go too far in his treatment of you. Already I have spoken of it. He knows that and he does not like it. Your Highness must never forget your position. He is aware of it constantly and does not like it. He wants to be in control. Do not forget, my dear Princess, that he can only go so far. You have weapons to fight back. Now, I must go and make my preparations.”

“Please, Dr. Ken. I have need of you. Do reconsider your decision. I know you are right in what you say. You have given me great strength. Pray do not go. I beg of you—stay. Stay a little longer.”

He looked at me tenderly.

“You have heard what was said. You realize my position. I cannot stay unwelcome. I must return to England.”

“If you will only stay a little while . . .”

“It will take me a day or so to prepare.”

“Please, Dr. Ken, you have given me courage. I need you here. Please do not go just yet.”

He said: “I will wait a day or so.”

It seemed to me very important that he should stay.

IT WAS LATER THAT DAY
when William came again to me. He was calm and cold, his old self.

He said: “Have you seen Dr. Ken?”

“I have asked him to stay,” I replied, with a note of defiance in my voice.

I was surprised to see that he looked pleased at this.

“What says he?”

“He says he cannot stay.” I held my head high. “I do not wish him to go.”

To my astonishment, William said: “It is better for him to stay the appointed time. We shall only have another such in his place.”

“But you have made it difficult for him to stay. You have as good as told him to go.”

“Only when he announced his intention of doing so. You should persuade him to stay.”

I smiled a little wryly. Of course, he did not want Dr. Ken to go home and tell them how badly the Prince treated me. The people would be angry. Their emotions were quickly aroused. He would give them a picture of the poor Princess—their English Princess—who was treated as of no importance by a Dutchman. And when the time came—if it did come—when he rode through the streets of London with me, they would remember the Dutchman who had been harsh to their Princess.

I saw how his mind was working. He had been so enraged by the Zulestein marriage that he had temporarily—and rarely—lost his calm judgment. He had said that which would have been better unsaid; and now he was anxious to keep Dr. Ken under supervision that he might not go back to England and preach against William of Orange.

I could not help smiling slightly as I turned to him.

“I have tried to persuade him. I think if you want him to stay, you should ask him yourself.”

William seemed taken aback at the prospect.

“You can persuade him,” he said.

“I have tried, but I think you have offended him too strongly and that he will need to be told that his presence is not distasteful to you.”

This was a strange turn of events.
I
was advising William.

He said: “I might see the man.”

Yes, he was indeed afraid of Dr. Ken's returning to England and speaking disparagingly of the Prince of Orange.

I SAW DR. KEN A FEW HOURS LATER
. He was smiling.

“The Prince has been to see me,” he said. “Yes, he came to me and did not summon me to his presence. A rare condescension. He has been emphatic in his desire that I should stay. He was shocked by the sudden marriage of his kinsman, he explained, for he had had plans for him. But he saw the point and realized that I did only what a priest must do in the circumstances. He said that the Princess had been comforted by my instruction and was extremely upset at the prospect of my departure, and for that reason he hoped I would reconsider my decision.”

“And you have?”

Dr. Ken smiled.

“I have said I will stay for another year, but I did imply that I was not satisfied with his treatment of Your Highness. It may amaze you that he showed no resentment. I thought that he might repeat his desire to be rid of me, but he did not. Instead he said that, if I would stay on a little to please the Princess, I should be very welcome at The Hague.”

So Dr. Ken stayed with us.

I had certainly changed. I had lost some of my meekness. I had confirmed the importance of the English crown and that William must constantly be reminded that the easiest way to it was through me.

REVELRY AT THE HAGUE

I was so glad that Dr. Ken stayed with us. He was a comfort to me and at that time I needed comfort.

Frances Apsley had married Sir Benjamin Bathhurst. I knew that she would marry sooner or later as she was advancing into her twenties. Her letters had changed. She was very happy, she wrote to me, and soon after that she was pregnant. She was still my dearest friend, as she had said she always would be, but I could see there were more important things in her life now—her marriage, and the child she was expecting. I envied her and yet I was glad of her happiness. But it made her remote and I knew that it would not be the same henceforth. Perhaps it never had been what I had imagined, but there had been great happiness in the belief and that had been essential to my comfort.

I longed for a happy marriage, a child of my own. But I was married to William. Could I ever make him love me as Sir Benjamin obviously loved Frances? Was it possible? Should I try?

I have always been fanciful and I began to build up a picture of domestic happiness which was a complete contrast to reality: William discovering how much he loved me—a completely different William from the dour, ambitious man I knew. His true feelings had been hidden beneath that stern facade he showed to the world. I had awakened him to love. My hopes of the crown were of no importance. Oddly enough, I began to believe that it might be true.

Then, even in my realistic moments, I began to feel that there might be just a grain of truth in my dreams, for William and I discovered a shared interest. He was fascinated by buildings and so was I—particularly gardens.

He was in the process of building a palace at Loo and I was surprised when he showed me the plans for it. Perhaps this was due to the criticisms Dr. Ken was still making about his neglect of me—but I did not want to look for that sort of reason.

I was excited. It was to be a wonderful palace.

“The garden will be large,” he said. “You might like to choose some of the flowers and say how you would like them to be laid. You will have your own suite there, of course, and you could make some suggestions about that.”

I threw myself wholeheartedly into the project. We arranged that under the windows there should be a fountain and, as I showed a preference for statues, they should be placed in the garden at spots of my choosing. It was all very interesting and I watched the erection of the palace with great delight. And what made it so pleasant was William's changed attitude. He was more gracious; he suggested rather than ordered.

Frances wrote of her happiness with Sir Benjamin and the interests they shared, and I wrote back glowing of my life with William.

I loved the palace at Loo. I suppose because I had had a hand in its construction. I set up a a poultry garden where I hoped to breed various specimens of fowl. It was a great pleasure to go among them, feed them and have them fluttering all around me. So I spent a great deal of time at Loo.

Unfortunately, once the palace had been built, I saw less of William. I could not expect him to be at Loo when state affairs demanded his attention at The Hague.

There was news from England. My sister Anne was at the heart of a scandal.

She was sixteen years old now. I had been married before I reached that age. It was different now. The unpopularity of my father had increased since I left. Titus Oates had seen to that. The King was older, and his age and my father's inability to get a son made it seem more possible that I—and William with me—would one day have the throne. And, of course, Anne would follow me, if I had no children, which seemed likely.

It was hard to contemplate Anne bestirring herself sufficiently to become involved in a scandal. I supposed it just happened round her. She was pretty in her way, in spite of being too fat; her complexion, when I had last seen her, had been very fresh and healthy-looking; and her rather vague look—due to her shortsightedness—could be very appealing to some.

In any case, it seemed that John Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave, had fallen in love with her. Their romance had been discovered and poor Mulgrave was in disgrace.

He was some years older than she was—about sixteen or seventeen, I heard—but a very handsome man with a great gift for words. I think she must have been charmed by his poetry.

However, when it was discovered that Mulgrave had plans to marry her—and had her agreement to this—there was trouble.

I could imagine Anne's demeanor. She would smile her ineffectual smile and it would be realized that it was no use remonstrating with her.

It was different with poor Mulgrave. He was reprimanded and sent off to Tangiers. I heard afterward that the ship on which he had sailed leaked, and it was hinted that it was hoped to be rid of him at sea; but I did not believe that. My uncle would never be party to such a plan, but there will always be insinuations against people in high places; and when I discovered that the Earl of Plymouth was among those on board, I knew it was false, for the Earl of Plymouth was an illegitimate son of the King. My uncle loved all his children dearly and would never have allowed any of them to go to sea in a faulty vessel.

Mulgrave himself never brought such an accusation and declared that the unseaworthiness of the ship had not been discovered until they were halfway to Tangiers and that if it had been faulty when it set out it would have been quickly revealed.

Anne's little flutter with Mulgrave had brought home the desirability of finding a husband for her before she was involved in further indiscretions.

PRINCE GEORGE OF HANOVER ARRIVED
in Holland. He was on his way to England and we guessed the reason for this visit. It was to give him an opportunity of meeting Anne.

William was always affected by what was happening at the English court. Sometimes I thought it would have been happier for him if Mrs. Tanner had not seen that vision of the three crowns at his birth. Then perhaps he might not have been so obsessed by the need to get them. But perhaps, being the ambitious man he was, he would have wanted the crowns just the same.

George had a claim to the throne. His father Ernest Augustus had married Sophia, the daughter of Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, who was the granddaughter of James I of England. His connection with the Stuarts did not please William. I think William would have been happy if Anne had made her clandestine match with Mulgrave.

I had come out of seclusion at Loo for the visit of George of Hanover. I found him singularly unattractive; he was handsome in a way, but he had no charm or manner; he was simple in his dress and it was obvious that he was going to make no concessions to anyone. He had clearly inherited none of the charm of the Stuart clan. I wondered what Anne would think of him.

He did not stay long with us and after he had gone I waited eagerly for news of what had taken place on his meeting with my sister.

There were various versions, but the main one was that it had been far from successful. Elizabeth Villiers, I imagined, was the chief source of information, for she was in constant communication with her sisters who were at the court of England, and that meant she received the latest news from them. It was usually accurate.

It seemed George and Anne had not taken kindly to each other. Poor Anne! I expect she compared him with Lord Mulgrave, and the contrast must have been great.

How I wished I could have been with her, to have known her true feelings. Anne was not a letter writer; she had always avoided taking up her pen. She was quite different from me in that respect and any communication I had from her was brief. I did hope she was not too unhappy at this time.

I heard that George had been averse to the match after meeting Anne and Anne felt the same about him. So there could have been no regrets when the young man was recalled to Hanover and was almost immediately betrothed to Sophia Dorothea of Celle.

So George's future was fixed, and I was sure someone would soon be found for Anne.

There was sad news from home. Little Isabella had died. I was desolate. I had grown to love my little half-sister when she had been with us and I guessed the anguish Mary Beatrice would be suffering. It was so cruel that this child—the only one who had managed to survive for a few years—should be taken from her.

My father wrote very sadly to me. I knew that he would be going through a very difficult time. The King was not in the best of health and there was uneasiness everywhere. He hoped that I was happy. Dr. Ken had reported that he was not pleased with the manner in which I was treated at my husband's court.

I wrote to him and said that I was very well and by no means unhappy. Dr. Ken may have exaggerated. He did not really like being away from his own country and he had had some differences about religion with the Prince.

My father also said that he believed there were rumors circulating about himself, and he hoped nothing would be done to poison my mind against him. He wanted my assurances that the feelings we had had for each other were as they always had been.

I assured him that this was so, although I wondered afterward if this was entirely true. In the days of my childhood I had thought him godlike, perfect in every way; but recently I had felt a little impatient with him. I hated the conflict and it was becoming more and more clear to me that if my father had not flaunted his religion in such a way, many of our troubles need never have occurred.

When Dr. Ken went back to England he was replaced by Dr. Covell. Dr. Covell had traveled a great deal and was very different from Dr. Ken. He was more gentle, more inclined to keep his opinions to himself, but I quickly realized that he had no great fondness for William, and I was not surprised, for he was shocked, as Dr. Ken had been, by the lack of respect accorded me.

There was more news from England regarding Anne. This time her suitor was another George—the Prince of Denmark. By all accounts, he appeared to be a rather pleasant person, unassuming in the extreme, and because he was only the second son of King Frederick of Denmark, he could take up his residence in England and Anne would not be expected to leave her home. I could well imagine that this would make the young man very agreeable to her—and when I heard that Colonel Churchill was a friend of the Prince, who in turn thought highly of the Colonel, I was sure that Sarah would approve of him and that would count very highly with Anne. So I was not surprised when I heard she was satisfied with the match, and I rejoiced in this, for I did not want my sister to suffer as I had.

I was living a very quiet life at this time. Anne Trelawny was a great comfort and I also had my old nurse, Mrs. Langford, with me. Her husband was a clergyman and one of my chaplains. There were the Villiers and Betty Selbourne with Jane Wroth—now Jane Zulestein—and a rather pretty Dutch girl named Trudaine.

Another of the Villiers sisters had arrived in Holland. This was Catherine. She had married a Monsieur Puisars, a Frenchman who had a post at The Hague.

My father was writing frequently to me now and I knew that William was very uneasy about this. He kept a close watch on my actions, and did not care that I should appear often in public. On the rare occasions when I did, I was regarded with great interest by the people and I fancied that they liked me. Their smiles indicated this and, although they are not a people to give vent to emotions, they implied that they approved of me. William noticed this and it seemed to puzzle him and did not, I think, altogether please him. He himself was always greeted with the utmost respect but hardly affection. With me it was the reverse, and this made him rather thoughtful and may have been the reason why he did not want me to appear too often.

He had arranged that, in addition to the maids of honor, who were my friends, there should be several Dutch attendants. They were given orders to attend my needs and make sure I was given the utmost care. When they first appeared, I resented them, for they seemed like jailors, but I soon found that they were pleasant girls and grew quite fond of them.

Now that I had so much leisure, I realized that I had not worked as hard as I might have done at my lessons and my ignorance disturbed me. I discovered a special interest in literature, and as there was little to do but walk in the gardens, do needlework, or, if I were at Loo, amuse myself with the poultry, I became involved with my books. I even painted a little, remembering the instructions of my dwarf, Richard Gibson.