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

Lady Fitzharding who was buying silks for the Princess Anne at the time heard this tirade and went at once to her sister Elizabeth Villiers to report what was being said; and Elizabeth realized that it was a matter which should be passed at once to her lover.

When William heard he was furious. She had done this to defy him, of course. He had been pleased when she had refrained from visiting the playhouse, but he had not known then that she had committed the folly of visiting these low shops which were little more than bawdy houses. She might think little of that having been brought up in one of the most dissolute courts in Europe, with a reigning King who was not content with one—or even two—mistresses, but kept a dozen at a time. His Dutch soul was nauseated at the thought of those immoral houses; if he had his way, he would have them abolished. And to think that the Queen had been foolish enough to visit them was infuriating.

It was not enough to go to her and express his displeasure. He wanted the country to know that he deplored the existence of these places, so he waited until they were dining in public.

“I have heard,” he said, “that you make a custom of dining at houses of ill repute.”

Mary answered: “I have visited the houses of several women in The Hall.”

He knew that the name The Hall was applied to both Westminster Hall or Exeter Change where most of the bazaars of this kind were situated.

“It seems a strange choice of yours.”

“Do you think so? We found the visits amusing.”

He looked at her sardonically. “It is only proper,” he said, “that when you visit such places, I should accompany you.”

She hated to anger him and she knew that he was very angry, more so because he had chosen to reprove her in public. She knew why, of course. He would insist that she never went to such places again and he wanted everyone to know that it was his command and that she would obey it.

She said rather sullenly: “The last Queen visited these places.”

“I beg of you do not use her as an example,” retorted William sharply.

It was rare that he was so conversational at meals; usually he ate in silence, although Keppel had reported that when he was with his Dutch friends, drinking Holland gin, he talked often with abandon; and there was frequent laughter at the table.

This conversation was listened to eagerly. He talked of these places which in his opinion should not exist and expressed the view that it was strange indeed that the Queen should find pleasure in them.

Mary was ready to burst into tears, which always had come so readily to her.

She knew that William was very displeased and that this would be an end of her efforts to amuse herself in the gay old way.

She was right. Very soon she and William returned to Hampton Court; and there she was expected to live quietly, walking six or seven miles a day, planning the new building and gardens, praying a great deal, and sometimes listening to a little music while she played cards or knotted her fringe, a pastime which she had to take up since her eyes had become too weak for the fine needlework she had once so much enjoyed.

But for the pleasure of living closer to her husband, Hampton Court would have been dull after Whitehall. The news was neither good nor bad but remained undecisive; but at least at Hampton Mary was secure from criticism; there was less danger of hearing one of the scurrilous lampoons being sung; and since the night at the playhouse she had begun to listen for them.

Hampton was delightful in the summer and William was more healthy there; he could breathe more easily; and there was no doubt that he was delighted with the prospect of improving the place. This brought them closer together.

Mary had grown plumper since coming to England and her doctors had told her to take more exercise, so while she ate heartily of fattening foods, she attempted to lose weight by walking.

Often she would be seen stepping out with her women and since some of them came from Holland they liked to wear their native styles which caused some amusement among English spectators. To see Mary and her Dutch maids walking in the grounds at Hampton was one of the sights of the times. Mary would walk at some speed and the ladies would flutter after her and her favorite spot was the long walk close to the walls of the Palace. This became known as the Frow walk.

There were occasions when William would walk with her, discussing his plans for building and laying out the gardens; sometimes he even talked of state matters. She cherished these walks and was delighted to have his company, although he slowed her down by hanging on her arm and they made an incongruous pair—she so tall, fat, yet stately, he, small, pulling on her arm so that it seemed she almost had to drag him along while he wheezed uncomfortably, and she was always afraid that an attack of asthma was coming on.

One day he said to her: “Your sister will certainly soon be brought to bed.”

“I am expecting it in a week or so,” Mary answered.

“Then,” went on William, “as the child, if it lives, could be heir to the throne, it should be born under the roof we are occupying at the time. We should be present at the birth.”

“It is usual for the heirs to be born at St. James’s,” began Mary. “Perhaps we should go there.”

She thought of the feasting they would have if the child should live and prove healthy. A royal birth should be such a joyous occasion.

But William was frowning. “I do not wish to leave Hampton. The air suits me better than that of London—which I find most obnoxious.”

Mary looked contrite as though the contamination of the London air were due to some fault of hers.

“You should invite them to Hampton without delay,” commanded William. “The child must be born here.”

Toward the end of June Anne and George arrived at Hampton Court. Anne was so large that some anxiety was felt for her safety. But she herself was unperturbed. She had already given birth so many times that it seemed to be becoming less of an ordeal, and each time a natural optimism made her certain that the child would be a boy and that this one would live.

Sarah was with her, which did not please the Queen, but Mary was too kind to show her displeasure at such a time. Anne settled comfortably into her apartments and each day would sit and play cards with Sarah and Lady Fitzharding and others of her ladies, or gossip with them, and look out of the windows at the river or at Mary with her ladies in their Dutch costumes or at Mary herself, like a galleon in full sail with William hanging on to her like a fisherman’s barque, as Sarah said.

Anne indulged her fancies, usually for food; and whatever she asked for, Sarah managed to get for her. Mary came to see her and talked tenderly of her health, as though all enmity between them was forgotten.

The first weeks of July passed thus pleasantly and on the twenty-fourth of that month Anne’s pains started. Mary came into the apartment and said she would remain until the child was born. William and officials came too, but they retired after an hour or so, when the pains became more frequent.

After a three hour labor Anne’s child was born.

There was triumph in the lying-in chamber, for it was a boy.