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

I said: “What are you doing here, child? And why do you look so intently at that picture?”

She stood up and curtsied.

“Your Majesty,” she said. “That is your father.” She fixed melancholy eyes on me and went on: “My father is in the Tower. He is Lord Preston. They are going to kill him. It is sad that my father is going to be put to death for loving your father too much.”

I was stunned. The child curtsied again and ran off. I wanted to call after her, to bring her back, to say her father should not be killed. Instead, I went to my apartments and prayed, as I always did in moments of intense unhappiness; but I found little comfort.

I wished, as I had so many times, that I was that child’s age and happy in the love of my father.

When I thought about the matter afterward, I guessed that someone had primed that child to be at that spot where I would pass and told her to say what she did. They knew I was not hard like William. How I wished I could give those men their freedom, but I could not remake the laws.

I was relieved when Lord Preston revealed the names of his fellow conspirators — which was not a noble thing to do, but it saved his life and eased my conscience to a certain extent.

THERE WAS BAD NEWS FROM HOLLAND. The French seemed to be triumphant everywhere. At home the people were growing more and more dissatisfied. They wanted to hear of victory, not defeat; and when the news was not good they immediately asked themselves why they had exchanged one unsatisfactory ruler for another who was equally so.

The good old days under Charles were remembered. How had he managed it? I often wondered. I thought of the manner in which he had averted trouble. He was not always sincere, but he always pleased the people, and the art of governing was to do that.

I was rather proud of the manner in which I handled the sailors’ wives of Wapping.

Funds had been low for some time. The wars were responsible for that. Payments which should have been made had been temporarily suspended, and because of this the sailors’ wives had decided to bring a petition to Parliament to air their grievances.

This state of affairs must not be allowed to go on, I decided. These debts must be settled even if it were from the Privy Purse. The poor must not be made to suffer. It was important that those who had only a little money should be the first to receive it.

There was consternation when, in the midst of a Cabinet meeting, the angry wives of Wapping arrived.

This was the kind of situation which could quickly result in a riot; and when one started others could spring up. The matter had to be settled at once.

I said: “I shall speak to them.”

“Your Majesty . . .” several of the ministers cried in horror.

But I was determined.

“Down there is a mob of angry women,” I said. “Go down and tell them to select four who will speak for them and bring them to me.”

They tried to dissuade me. There was I, wearing the state robes which I wore for Cabinet meetings, and I was preparing to see those women, dressed so!

I waved aside their protests and insisted that the women be sent to me.

They came in a truculent mood, angrily determined to demand their rights. I must say they looked taken aback at the sight of me in my splendid robes, and, being somewhat rotund, I must have made quite a regal sight. I could not believe that they would be pacified by the contrast they made in their poor patched garments.

But I have a very soft and gentle voice, I am told, and when I spoke and told them how sorry I was that their husbands had not been paid and they had been right to come to me, I saw the expression on their faces change.

“Tell me all about it,” I went on.

They were taken aback. They had not expected soft words.

One of the women, bolder than the rest, stepped forward. She told me of the poverty they had endured, how hard it was to make ends meet, and when there was no pay coming for good service, they could endure no more. So they had come to demand it.

I agreed that what had happened must immediately be put right. Everything due to them must be paid. I would see that this was done.

They hesitated. They had been promised payment for work done in the first place. They wanted action, not promises that might not be kept.

“I want you to believe me,” I said. “I shall make sure that the money is paid to you without delay.”

I realized suddenly that I had won the confidence of these women. They did believe me. I was moved and gratified when the leader went down on her knees and said: “I believe you. You are a good woman.”

Then the others knelt with her.

“God bless Your Majesty,” they said.

I went back to the Cabinet meeting. They all looked shocked. They had been ready to hurry to my aid should I have been attacked and were astonished when I said calmly: “The amount owing to the sailors’ wives must be paid immediately. I have promised this and my promise must be honored.”

My orders were promptly carried out and I believe the action I had taken averted danger.

My popularity increased after that. Alas, it did not help William.

The people of London liked to express themselves in verse; and when someone wrote a couplet — usually anonymous and unflattering — it was often set to a tune and sung in the streets.

The people saw William as the ruler and I, though the true heiress, was the retiring woman who had hitherto been kept in the background, occupied with her needle. This was not so now. I had been brought forward in William’s absence and I had won the hearts of the sailors’ wives.

The couplet they were singing now was:

Alas, we erred in choice of our commanders

He should have knotted, she gone to Flanders.

I was glad William was not in England to hear that and hoped that they would be singing a different verse when he returned.

SINCE WILLIAM’S REFUSAL to allow Prince George to go to sea had not been arranged discreetly, he had to be told officially by Lord Nottingham that the King would not sanction it.

I could imagine Anne’s fury, and George ... well, he would have been mildly disappointed. I could imagine his raising his eyes and murmuring, “Est-il possible?” William was the one they blamed, and Sarah, of course, would do all in her power to add to the resentment.

Anne and Sarah would discuss the matter. Caliban was the loathe-some creature who had refused to recognize the good services of Marlborough, and now behaved as though George was a nobody — and he was the father of the male heir to the throne.

William returned to England. The continental war had been his chief concern now that James had been driven back to France. The people of England had been taxed to pay for the war and there were no successes to report.

It was clear that they were not pleased with their King. I guessed there was a certain amount of gratification in the Cockpit because of this.

My sadness at the discord between my sister and myself was compensated a little by my young nephew. I liked to visit him and have him brought to Kensington. He enjoyed those visits. He liked to watch the soldiers in the park.

He would point to them in glee and shout, “Soldiers, Queen, look!”

I gave him toy soldiers, which pleased him, but of course they were not real soldiers who marched and saluted.

There would never be harmony between Anne and me while Sarah dominated that household. She had two enemies, however, and because of circumstances it was not easy for her to dislodge them.

The first was, of course, Mrs. Pack. There was that special bond which is often there between a nurse and the child she has suckled, and this was certainly the case with William and Mrs. Pack; and because of his devotion to her, Mrs. Pack must remain.