Plaidy, Jean - Royal Sisters - The Story of the Daughters of James II

Then came the news that Monmouth had landed in England. And John knew he must return to Court without delay.

“So,” said Sarah, “you will fight for the Catholic against the Protestant?”

John smiled. “This is the King against the bastard,” he said. “Until James changes the religion of this country he is still the King as far as I am concerned.”

Sarah agreed that this must be so.

“We should never bow to Monmouth,” she said. “You will defeat him, John.”

“Feversham will be in command,” John replied sardonically, “and I see that the trouble will be mine but the honor will be his.”

“It shall not always be so,” declared Sarah firmly.

The defeat of Monmouth was due to Churchill, for when the battle of Sedgemoor began Feversham was in bed, having, with many of his cronies, drunk rather heavily, and the command was left to John Churchill who started a strong offensive and secured victory for the King’s men.

Monmouth was discovered in a ditch and brought as prisoner to London. There followed his trial, death on Tower Hill, and the great scandal of Judge Jeffrey’s Bloody Assizes.

That affair was ended and James II was firmly on the throne.

Everyone in England seemed aware of the King’s unpopularity except himself. Like a true Stuart James had an inherent belief in the Divine Right of Kings and it was inconceivable to him that his throne could be threatened by the people. He had had two enemies in his nephew Monmouth and his son-in-law William; now Monmouth was dead and only William remained. He had always disliked William and had never ceased to deplore the fact that his beloved daughter Mary had married him. He himself had been against that marriage, but Charles had insisted on it, pointing out that because William was a Protestant it was more necessary to James than to anyone else, for if James did not allow his daughter to marry a Protestant, Charles believed that the people would insist on excluding him from the succession.

So there had been this Dutch marriage—but he never trusted his son-in-law and what was so heartbreaking was that he believed William was trying to influence his daughter against him.

Rake and libertine that he could not prevent himself being, James had a great desire for a happy family life to which he could retire for a short rest from his mistresses. He had convinced himself that he had enjoyed this for a time with Anne Hyde, the mother of his daughters, and the two girls themselves. He remembered several occasions when they had sat on the floor and played childish games together. He looked back—sentimentalist that he was—with great yearning to that period.

He sincerely loved his daughters. In her childhood Mary had been the favorite, but she was far away and William’s wife, whereas Anne was at hand and he could see her frequently. Moreover he had written to Mary in an endeavor to convert her to Catholicism, and her replies had been cool; she implied that she was firmly Protestant.

William’s wife, he thought sadly, scarcely James’s daughter now.

So he turned to Anne. He increased her allowance, for the dear creature had no money sense at all and in spite of her enormous revenue she was constantly in debt. He enjoyed those occasions when she sought his help; it was a pleasure to see her woebegone face break into a smile when he told her that she could rely on her father to help her in any difficulty.

“You are the daughter of a King now,” he was constantly telling her. “The beloved daughter.”

Anne thought what a pleasure it was to be a sovereign. So much homage; so much adulation. Sarah had grown even closer because that year they had both given birth to daughters: Anne’s Mary and Sarah’s Elizabeth.

Sarah would whisper to her: “And think, dear Mrs. Morley, one day you may be the Queen of England.”

“I do not like to think of that, Mrs. Freeman, because my father would have to die first.”

“H’m!” retorted Sarah. “He is a papist, you know, and that is not good.”

“Alas no.” Anne was a staunch Protestant, as she had been brought up to be, for her uncle Charles had taken her education and that of Mary out of their father’s hands. “But he is firmly convinced that he is right.”

“Mrs. Morley must never allow herself to be converted. That would be dangerous. They would never allow you to be Queen if you became a papist. These papists are a menace.”

“I know, I have heard from my sister.… She is not very pleased with my father.”

“Nor is it to be wondered at. He is under the thumb of his wife. She is the real culprit.”

Anne looked puzzled as she thought of her lovely stepmother with whom she had always been on good terms.

“I have never trusted Italians,” went on Sarah. She thought of the Queen sweeping through the Cockpit and showing no respect for Lady Churchill. Her influence with the Princess must not be allowed to grow; it was too great already.

“She always seems to be kindly.”

“Oh, but so proud, Mrs. Morley. She pretends that she is gracious to all, but have you noticed the change in her since she became Queen?”

“Hush, Mrs. Freeman, your voice carries so. If anyone heard you speak thus of the Queen.…”

“We should give her a name, so that no one would know of whom we were speaking.”

Anne was very fond of giving people nicknames; she had always done so throughout her life; so she fell in with the suggestion at once.

“It ought to be something like Morley and Freeman,” she said. “An ordinary sort of name. I have it. Mansell. My father shall be Mr. Mansell and the Queen, Mansell’s wife. How’s that?”

“Mrs. Morley, you are a genius! I cannot think of a name that would suit them better.”

“Mansell!” said Anne savoring it; then she burst out laughing. “It is absolutely right.”

And from then on the King and Queen became Mansell and Mansell’s wife; and it was extraordinary how the change robbed them of dignity. Mrs. Freeman could talk more contemptuously of the Mansells; and Anne found that she could listen, and as usual, she began to share Sarah’s opinions.

Anne was soon pregnant again and as little Mary was surviving happily, she let herself dream of the large family she would have.

This time, she told George, it should be a son.

They were happy days and Anne was able to indulge herself in all her favorite pastimes, to which one had been added: gossip—more than gossip, intrigue.

Wherever Sarah was, there was drama; and Anne found that her friend’s racy conversation and pungent criticisms of almost everyone about them were so diverting. The only people who were good and reasonable were Mr. and Mrs. Morley and Mr. and Mrs. Freeman. Others were perhaps misguided. Anne did not care to hear criticisms of her sister. But there was Caliban to be slandered. As for the King and Queen, Anne was already beginning to dislike her stepmother and see her through Sarah’s eyes as arrogant and dangerous on account of her religion. With regard to her father, Sarah had to tread warily, but Anne was forming a different picture of him. He was immoral; she had always known that; and all men should be like Mr. Morley and Mr. Freeman—moral. Perhaps before their marriages they had had their amours; but all the more credit to them that, being married to good wives, they should forsake their follies.

Anne was changing; she was as placid as ever, but she could be spiteful. The fact was she so enjoyed the scandalous conversations and Sarah was so amusing that sometimes Anne was quite helpless with laughter.