Виктория Холт - Royal Sisters - The Story of the Daughters of James II

Sarah could guess what this meant.

It was an astonishing thing that Elizabeth Villiers should have received so little from the King. She supposed it was because he hoped to keep his relationship with her secret. What a fool Elizabeth was not to feather her nest while she had the chance. Little Hook-Nose was not going to last forever, and if she could believe her spies, which she could for they would not dare deceive her , he was spitting blood. And what would Elizabeth Villiers have when he was gone? Would Queen Mary offer a pension to the lady who had served her husband so well?

Sarah snorted with amusement.

Impatiently she played her cards, bringing the game to an early end; then she sought an opportunity of cornering Barbara Fitzharding.

“It would not surprise me,” she said, “if your sister did well out of this Irish business.”

Barbara’s lips closed quite perceptibly tighter.

Does she think I’m blind! thought Sarah.

“Well,” said Sarah, “have you lost your tongue?”

“His Majesty has not taken me into his confidence,” replied Barbara.

“I didn’t think His Majesty had. But it’s no use pretending your sister isn’t his mistress when we all know it. I think she’d be a fool not to get what she can out of Ireland and I don’t think she’s all that much of a fool.”

“I agree with you on that. I do not think my sister is a fool either.”

“She will be rich in a short time. It wouldn’t surprise me if the Earl of Portland has his picking.”

“It may well be,” answered Barbara.

May well be! thought Sarah. It is.

She told Anne about this. “It is quite funny. That Dutch Abortion. Such a clever general, my dear! Why wasn’t Marlborough sent to Ireland? He would have settled them long ere this. No, Caliban must go! He must be the great hero.”

“They say he is a great soldier.”

“Great soldier indeed. Ha! Great soldier and great lover! Do you know he has the Irish estates to dispose of now? He is going to shower them on … whom do you think? Two guesses, Mrs. Morley. I should have thought he was neuter. But he teeters half one way half the other. There is Betty Squint-Eye on one side and his dear Bentinck on the other, with Keppel waiting for his turn. It will be pickings for Betty and Bentinck.”

“My sister will not be pleased,” said Anne.

“They hope to keep it secret from her. I think she should be told. After all, think to what good use she could put the Irish estates.”

Mary sat alone in her apartment weeping.

Life was too difficult. There had been the dreadful affair of Torrington and the disaster of Beachy Head; then all the trouble over Haddock and Ashby and she knew Killigrew was a most unwise choice; dear Shrewsbury had become so ill over the matter that he had retired to Tunbridge Wells; she had been frantic with worry as to what was happening to William in Ireland; and when she had visited her dear little nephew for solace, her sister Anne had been there and had hinted that William was going to bestow Irish estates on Elizabeth Villiers.

Often she was able to dismiss that woman from her mind. It is not so, she had told herself. It used to be, but it is no longer. But for all that, she knew that Elizabeth continued as his mistress.

Why? she demanded. Why?

William was not a sensual man like her uncle Charles and her father. Women were essential to them—not so to William. Why then could he not be contented with his wife?

She understood his affection for Portland. She herself had once loved Frances Apsley better than anyone else in the world; it was for this reason that she no longer saw her; she did not want to be tempted again into passionate friendship with a woman.

She accepted Portland’s influence with William. She could tell herself that it was good for a man to have ministers whose fidelity he could rely on.

But Elizabeth Villiers was his mistress and while he was in Ireland he was thinking of her.

She would not allow it. She was after all the Queen and should have some say in matters.

She thought of gentle Shrewsbury and she wondered whether he would have been a faithful husband.

What an extraordinary idea! Her thoughts then skipped to the visit of Monmouth to The Hague. How they had danced and skated together, and if Monmouth had not been so devotedly attached to Henrietta Wentworth at that time and she married to William, there might have been gossip about them. Perhaps there had been, for who knew where gossip was? Did William know how there were always men and women to discuss his relationship with … that woman.

She took up her pen and wrote:

You will have Irish estates of which to dispose. I believe it would be an excellent idea to set up schools on these estates and instruct the Irish. If you will give me leave I must tell you I think that your wonderful success and deliverance should oblige you to think of doing what you can for the advancement of the true religion and the promoting of the Gospel …

She reread what she had written. Would he be angry that she sought to dictate to him. She wanted to cry out: “This you must do and not shower such gifts on your mistress while all London, all the Court, all the country titters behind your back.

“I will not endure it,” she said aloud.

But she knew that when she was face to face with him she would do exactly as he wished.

He would be home soon. Her great plan now was to have Kensington Palace ready for him. In her frequent letters she had told him how progress was going on and she knew that he would consider her very incompetent if it were not ready for him to take up residence when he arrived.

But there was so much to be done; she looked with dismay at the apartments not yet painted. Every day she was at Kensington urging the workmen to work faster, while at the same time they made sure that all the skill of their craft was put into practice.

“The King’s homecoming will be spoilt if Kensington Palace is not ready for him,” she complained.

She herself was planning the gardens with feverish activity. She longed for William’s return and yet at the same time she was terrified that he would come too soon.

She was at Kensington when the news of fresh trouble reached her. The Jacobites were rising in Scotland.

The pleasant trips to Kensington were over; now it was no longer a matter of, Will it be finished in time? It was And who are these Scottish traitors?

There were Scotsmen in London and the Scottish songs were sung in the streets.

Ken ye the rhyme to porringer?

Ken ye the rhyme to porringer?

King James the Seventh had a daughter

And he gave her to an Oranger.

Ken ye how he requited him?

Ken ye how he requited him?

The dog has into England come

And taken the crown in spite of him.

The rogue he shall nae keep it lang

To budge we’ll make him fain again

We’ll hang him high upon a tree

King James shall hae his ain again!

Was there to be no end to it? Would there always be the “Jacks” lurking behind every corner? And how could she sleep peacefully at night when she heard threats against William?

There was a scare when a man and woman were overheard in Birdcage Walk plotting her assassination. The woman was thought to be Catherine Sedley, although there was no real evidence of this. The Queen was guarded but no attempt was made on her life; and the rebellion in Scotland was ended by the capture of the ringleaders. Catherine Sedley was involved with them, but Mary could not allow her to be punished very severely for, after all, had she not been James’s mistress and she must have had some affection for him. How difficult it was to punish those men whose crime was that they were loyal to her own father?