Виктория Холт: The Queen's Devotion: The Story of Queen Mary II

On this occasion, Elizabeth Villiers said: “The Bishop will soon be here. He will make sure that the Lady Mary and the Lady Anne keep to the true faith.”

“He is a very clever man,” said Sarah.

“And of the right persuasion,” went on Elizabeth, “which is very necessary.”

“Do you think the Duke is happy with the appointment?” asked Anne Villiers.

Elizabeth smiled a little superciliously. “The Duke will realize it is the best possible conclusion.”

Sarah commented that the Duke would know it was what the people wanted and it was always wise to listen to them and let them think they were getting their way.

“They are certainly getting their way on this,” said Anne Villiers. “I am not surprised the Duke does not like the Bishop.”

I must have shown that I was listening intently, for I saw Elizabeth’s eyes on me as she said: “We all know that the Bishop had Edward Coleman dismissed from the Duchess’s household while she was alive and all because he was a Catholic, which the Bishop thought was a bad influence. The Duke held nothing against Edward Coleman for that but, of course, he could not save him.”

I was thinking of what my father had told me and I remembered seeing him with my mother in the company of Father Hunt, the Franciscan. The trouble was all about religion and that was why Bishop Compton was coming here to teach us.

Elizabeth had turned the conversation round to great families. She had succeeded in bringing to my notice that my wonderful father had to bow to the will of the King, not realizing that he himself had already told me that. Now she wanted to attack Sarah in the same oblique way.

She was growing more and more annoyed by the influence Sarah exerted over Anne, and I dare say she thought that if she were not careful Sarah would have more power in the household than she did. She was hinting now that Sarah was of low birth, and she would stress the fact by saying that she was very sorry for those who lacked the advantage of birth and breeding.

“I have the utmost admiration for those who rise above it,” she said, smiling benignly on Sarah. “Of course, we Villiers are of an ancient family. The name is enough to tell you that. We have been known at court through the centuries. Our kinsman George Villiers, the present Duke of Buckingham, is one of the King’s greatest friends. Oh yes, it is certainly good to be of noble lineage. Do you not agree, Sarah?”

Sarah was ready. “That would depend,” she retorted. “It can be of an advantage, of course, but it can also be a disadvantage. When there is a disaster in a family, a little anonymity can be very desirable.”

“Nothing can alter the glory of an illustrious name.”

“Ah, but the higher the family, the greater the fall. One does not have to look very far for an example. A great family such as yours must find the exploits of The Lady very distressing.”

I saw the color rush in to Anne Villiers’s cheeks. Elizabeth looked coldly at Sarah and the cast in her eyes had become almost a squint.

“I don’t understand you, Sarah,” she said.

“Oh, didn’t I make myself clear? I am sorry. You were speaking of your illustrious family name and I was saying what a pity it was that one member of it should make it ... notorious.”

“What ... do you mean?” stammered Anne Villiers.

“I refer to Barbara Villiers, of course. Your cousin, is she not? My Lady Castlemaine, no less. I believe they sing lampoons about her in the streets.”

“She mixes in the highest circles,” said Anne Villiers.

“Indeed, yes.” Sarah obviously could not resist going on. “That is why she has become so well known not only at court, not only in London, but throughout the country.”

“There are many who would be greatly honored by the King’s friendship.”

“Honor?” went on Sarah. “There are times when it is difficult to differentiate. What is honor? What is dishonor? It is for all to make up their minds.” Sarah was smiling triumphantly, because she knew Elizabeth Villiers had been trounced.

I was rather bewildered by this conversation and took the first opportunity of consulting Anne Trelawny.

“It seemed to me that they were talking in riddles,” I said.

“Not they. Elizabeth Villiers does not like Sarah Jennings, so she wants to remind her all the time of her obscure origins, and that it is only by sheer good luck that she has a place here. But Sarah is not going to take that lightly. She retaliates that people in great families can act scandalously, and, of course, Barbara Villiers is the notorious Lady Castlemaine, and is the cousin of these Villiers girls.”

“Anne,” I said, “people seem to want to keep things from me. Don’t you, please. I am not a child any more.”

“I dare say you will be going to court one day and you will know about these matters. You would soon discover that Lady Castlemaine is the King’s mistress, for they make no secret of this. He spends much time with her. She is most indiscreet. And everyone knows what happens between them.”

“But the King is married!”

That made Anne smile. “It makes no difference. It happens with people in high places.”

“It does not happen with my father,” I said fiercely.

Anne was silent. Then she said: “The King is so often with Lady Castlemaine.”

“But what of the Queen? Does she know this?”

“The Queen most assuredly knows.”

“The poor lady.”

“Yes, that is what many say. But life is like that.”

“I like my uncle so much. He is so merry ... and kind.”

“He is much liked.”

“I cannot believe he would act so.”

“People have many sides to their natures. This is one of the King’s. Lady Castlemaine is not the first by any means. You know of your cousin, the Duke of Monmouth. You know he is not heir to the throne, but he is the King’s son.”

“I do not understand.”

“He was born when the King was in exile. He is without doubt the King’s son. The King accepts him as such. But he is not the King’s legitimate son and therefore cannot inherit the throne. As you grow up you learn to accept that such things happen.”

“I am glad my father is not like that.”

She looked at me a little sadly but with great affection.

“I think the Queen must be very unhappy,” I said. “I am sorry. She is such a kindly lady. I shall never like the King so much again.”

THE BISHOP HAD ARRIVED. He was a man in his early forties, I imagined, which seemed ancient to us. He was not unkind, nor very severe, but he was determined that he was going to teach us to become good Protestants.

I understood later that he was not very learned academically and that side of our education was neglected to some extent. What he was determined to do was set our feet on the right path and, in view of our parents’ religious inclinations, it was very important that we should not be contaminated by them.

That was exactly what he had been ordered to do and I realized later that it was a perfectly reasonable arrangement. My father was, at that time, heir to the throne, for it seemed that Queen Catherine was barren; my mother had died in the Catholic faith and my father leaned strongly toward it; and the English were determined never to accept a Catholic king.

I learned too how the King was exasperated by my father’s attitude toward religion. But my father was a good man, an honest man; he could not deny his faith; he was like one of the martyrs who suffered so much during their lifetimes and were so revered after their deaths. He would have died for his faith — or lose a crown for it. People might say he was a fool. That may have been from their point of view, but he was a good fool.