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

“She had always been a faithful servant to me,” I said with gratification. “What happened then?”

“Lady Marlborough went straight to the Princess.”

“In triumph, of course.”

Lady Derby smiled in agreement.

“The Princess was very upset. She was thinking of the little Duke, of course. He dotes on Mrs. Pack and all know that it is for his sake that Lady Marlborough has had to endure her all this time. The Princess was most unhappy, for the woman’s reading her correspondence was a very grave matter indeed. Mrs. Pack herself then asked for an audience and, before the Princess could speak — Your Majesty knows Mrs. Pack’s way — she said she could no longer remain in the Princess’s service.”

“The Princess must have been very relieved,” I said. “I suppose Mrs. Pack realized she could not stay after what she did had been discovered.”

“It may have been that she thought her usefulness was at an end. But, of course, there was the little Duke to be considered. Mrs. Pack said her health was not good. I think this may be the truth, because she would never tell a lie. However, she insisted on going. Lady Marlborough is delighted and the Princess, of course, is happy to please her friend.”

“And what of little William?”

“He has been strangely quiet about the matter and did not protest as he was expected to.”

“He is a strange child — so unusual. I have never known another child like him. There are times when I think he is wise beyond his years.”

There was something strange about the child. There were occasions when he spoke like a young man and then a few seconds later would become a child again.

The unusual qualities of the boy were brought home to me afresh by an astonishing story.

He was grave after the departure of Mrs. Pack, but he had not cried, and seemed to accept the story that she had to go away to Deptford for her health.

“She is not well,” he was reputed to have said. “I would not have her ill.”

In his grown-up way, he sent over to Deptford every day to inquire about her health.

He went about his daily life, giving a great deal of attention to his favorite game of soldiers. He had now several boys a year or so older than himself whom he called his “men.” His mother was so anxious to please him in every way and the boys were fitted out as soldiers in miniature uniforms and William took them to the park and exercised them. People used to come and watch. It was one of the most popular sights.

There he would command them — this little boy of four years or so — just like a general shouting orders as they marched to his direction.

I always felt there was something strange about him.

His head was long and there was a mature look in his eyes. Anne told me proudly that his hat was the same size as a man’s. His face was oval, his hair, doubtless inherited from his father, very fair; and his complexion was a glowing pink and white. His body was well-made and seemed to be strong, but he had difficulty with some movements; he always needed a rail when he went up stairs, and help to get up if he had been sitting on a low stool. In addition to this, he had an air of extreme gravity which accompanied certain remarks so that they seemed more like those of an adult than a child.

So when I heard the story I was a little shaken, yet not altogether surprised.

Lady Derby said the whole court was talking about it.

“It is very strange, Your Majesty. But ... how could he have known?”

I waited for an explanation and Lady Scarborough, who was also in attendance, said: “Your Majesty knows how fond he always was of Mrs. Pack.”

“Indeed I know.”

“They were all amazed at how calmly he took her departure. The Princess had expected him to refuse to allow her to go, and in that case, she would have had to remain.”

Lady Derby put in: “But he always sent every day to see how she was.”

“Yes, I heard that.”

“This is the strange part of it, Your Majesty. Two days ago, when the messenger, in accordance with the practice, was about to take the message to her, the Duke said he would not send that morning. Mrs. Wanner — Your Majesty may remember her, she was in his household — asked him why he did not send. He just looked past her, as though he were staring at nothing, and said, “There is no need. She will be dead before the messenger arrives there.”

“What a strange thing for a child to say!”

“Stranger still, Your Majesty, he was right. It transpired that Mrs. Pack had died.”

“He must have heard it.”

“No, Your Majesty. It seemed she died just at the moment he was speaking.”

“How could he have known?”

There was silence.

I was thinking of the little boy and Mrs. Pack. There had been a very special bond between them. I believed that without her he would never have survived.

He was indeed a very strange little boy.

I WAS UNWELL and had been for some months. I think it was due to the strain of perpetual war, William’s comings and goings, the burden of greater responsibilities taken up and then taken away. This was all having an effect on me. Sometimes I felt old and tired. I was only thirty years old and never free of remorse on account of my father.

I was beset by continual anxiety. Every time a messenger came I would tremble and wonder what ill news he brought. If only there had not been this coldness between my sister and myself. My great consolation was little William. He seemed to be the only one who could lift my spirits. He did visit me often, and I could always be brought out of my melancholy to smile at his droleries.

I looked back over the last months and thought of the torments I had suffered over the Grandval plot.

Grandval was a French officer who had been hired to assassinate William. Fortunately, his design had been discovered in time and he was arrested by the English.

At his trial it was revealed that, before he left Paris, he had had a meeting with my father and stepmother and that my father had told him that if he carried out his plan successfully, he, personally, would see that Grandval never wanted for anything as long as he lived.

So ... while I could rejoice in William’s escape, I was overcome with sadness because my father had given his blessing to this murderous plot.

It made me very weary of life.

I suffered from the ague, from heavy colds, from a weakness of the eyes and a swelling in the face. I longed for the war in Europe to be over; I wanted William to come home. Sometimes I felt myself drifting into fancy and believing that our troubles were over. William would come back a hero, the people would be cheering in the streets, my father would come home and announce that he realized he could never reign as a Catholic and it was right for William to take his place, William loved me, Elizabeth Villiers had married and gone far away and we all lived happily together. What a fantasy! What a dream! But dreams were useful at times when reality was hard to bear.

There was no end to disaster.

It was June when one of the greatest of them occurred. This was the expedition to Brest. It had been essential that this should be a surprise attack, but the plan had been foiled and the French had had warning and strengthened their defenses so that when the English landed they found the enemy waiting for them. General Tollemache was mortally wounded and four hundred soldiers were lost.

It was a major disaster. But the most shocking feature of the affair was that the French had been warned, and there was a strong suspicion by whom. Lady Tryconnel, Sarah Churchill’s sister, was with my father and stepmother in France, and Sarah, it appeared, had written to her telling her of the activity in London concerning the coming attack in Brest.