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

Several of them were in the Tower. She did not want to think of them. How she longed to be back in Holland, tending her gardens, living quietly, peacefully. How she wished that she had never been drawn into this conflict between her father and husband.

Each day she rose wondering what new crisis would be brought to light. She had always been one to form habits and her days ran to a pattern; she awoke at six, had tea brought to her and worked at her papers until eight when she went to prayers; then she worked again through the day until evening when if there were no public engagements she relaxed at her favorite cards; she rarely went to bed before two of the morning. Each day she wrote to William; she had always been a great letter writer and she found it so much easier to write to him than to talk to him.

She had had no reply to her letter about the Irish estates, but William was no letter writer. He was a soldier with serious business to occupy his time; and she, good ruler though she had proved herself to be, was first of all an emotional woman.

Her success as a ruler would have meant nothing to her if William’s campaign had been a failure. She was constantly turning attention from her own achievements to point to his. If the people cheered William, which they never did, that would have given her greater pleasure than their cheers for herself. She longed for the people to appreciate him, to understand why he had taken the crown. It was not for his own glory, she would have them understand; it was to save England for Protestantism.

He would soon be home now. She had heard that he was on the way.

She drove home from Kensington where she had been to see how the building was progressing and there was an anxious frown between her eyes. It would not be ready—she was certain of it now—and he would be very disappointed.

I should have made sure, she scolded herself.

As her coach had turned into the courtyard, the horses shied suddenly; they reared and plunged … onto the statue of James II.

Her hand on her throat, she alighted. She stood for a moment staring at the remnants of her father’s image, which her coach had destroyed. She was shivering, seeing in everything that happened a symbol.

William was home, and as Kensington Palace was not ready the meeting took place at Hampton Court.

She smiled at him, her face illumined with great joy.

The bells were ringing and the people were giving him a welcome. He was uncouth and Dutch with a hooked nose and crooked back, but he was a conqueror for all that. He took Mary’s hand and managed to smile at her. She had done well and her letters with their adulation and deep sincerity had been a comfort to him. He had molded her until she had almost become the wife he wanted; and he was well pleased.

“You see me in a very happy condition,” she told him. “You are home and well. The people know you for the leader you are and that makes me rejoice.”

He answered: “You have done well in my absence.”

His mouth twitched a little at the corners. She had shown herself capable of ruling. She would have increased her popularity. Were the people going to wish that she was the sole Sovereign? Would they say now that they could well dispense with him?

She said: “I shall now be rid of all the troublesome business I was so little fit for.”

“You showed yourself fit,” he told her.

“Perhaps I wished to please you and I always said to myself, ‘What would he do?’ ”

Again that half smile. He was well pleased.

She could not show him a completed Kensington Palace, but she could assure him that she was his devoted docile wife.

It was a happy homecoming.

It was impossible for Marlborough to advance his fortunes in England; and he had no intention of wasting time.

Life was too short, he explained to Sarah.

They took a few days from Court to be together with their family. Henrietta the eldest was now nine years old, and John, four, was the pride of them both. There was also another boy—little Charles. Sarah had great plans for her four daughters; but for her boys she wanted the whole world.

Exciting days. She wished that they could have been longer. Each one was filled to the last minute with the mingling joys of family life and dreaming dreams—practical dreams. Sarah was always practical.

“A successful campaign in Ireland,” Marlborough whispered to her, “and I’ll have the command of the Army.”

“Dutch William wants all the glory, don’t forget.”

“He has his kingdoms to rule.”

“He prefers to lead his armies. Why if he had had the sense to send you to the Boyne the Irish troubles would be all over now.”

Marlborough smiled at her affectionately.

She went on: “He’s spitting blood and I can’t believe he’s much longer for this world. As for Mary, she grows fatter every day and looks well. I would to God she would go back to Holland with him and leave the place free for Anne.”

“You always want to move too fast.”

“And you, my lord, are too slow.”

“They do say that the more haste often means less speed.”

“Nonsense. I continually move fast. I have Anne exactly as I want her. She cannot bear me out of her sight. As soon as Gloucester’s a little older I’m going to get John to Court. He shall be Gloucester’s companion as I was Anne’s. You can’t start too young.”

He laid his hand over hers. “As I said before, be careful.”

She threw him off impatiently. “John Churchill, I know what I am doing. I trust you do.”

They understood each other. They were close; she was dynamic, so it was natural that sometimes she bubbled over with the emotion of the moment; he believed in diplomacy; he had been born with a natural charm which it would have been a sin not to use. Sarah had no such charm; she was impatient of subterfuge. She believed in saying what she meant—although she would not tolerate others being so frank to her.

They were convinced that they would succeed.

But events did not work out quite as they had hoped.

The Cabinet did not wish Marlborough to go to Ireland, but William did; therefore the King persuaded the Cabinet of the wisdom of the move. But, thought William, who was Marlborough? He was a good soldier, but so far he had done little. But for the fact that he had a forceful wife—an obnoxious woman whom he, William, personally disliked intensely and would have preferred to banish from Court—who had bullied the Princess Anne into giving her rich gifts, where would he be? There was a great deal of noise around the Marlboroughs, but what had they done?

Still, William had an instinct where soldiers were concerned and he believed Marlborough to have talent. Moreover, he had come over to his side at the beginning of the revolution and such an action was worthy of a reward.

So Marlborough was allowed to go to Ireland—not with English soldiers trained by himself but with a company made up of Danes, Huguenots, and Dutchmen. This was the first disappointment for Marlborough. The second was that he was placed under the Duke of Württemberg instead of in supreme command. This was a terrible blow which made Sarah almost dance with fury. But Marlborough exercised his diplomacy, was ingratiating to Württemberg, who very shortly was ready enough to hand over the command to this able general.

The result was great victory, all due to Marlborough. He was fighting his brother-in-law the Duke of Tyrconnel, who was the second husband of Sarah’s sister Frances; and so successful was he that Tyrconnel was forced to escape to France. His place was taken by the Duke of Berwick who was the son of his sister Arabella. He won the towns of Cork and Kinsale; and then returned to England.