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

“The first thing I shall do is to pray for the King’s safety and success,” said Mary. “And then that I may have the help I shall surely need.”

The Council meeting was held in Nottingham’s apartments in Whitehall. Mary sat at the head of the table with the nine members of the Council about her; the five Tories were Marlborough, Danby, Nottingham, Pembroke, and Lowther; and the four Whigs Dorset and Devonshire, Mordaunt and Russell.

They expressed their concern at the Queen’s appearance and she replied that she believed the swelling to have little significance.

“The King worked with greater disadvantages,” she told them smiling.

The Earl of Devonshire said that the strain of the last days had been great, and if Her Majesty wished to retire to bed they would work without her and have sent to her bedchamber any important documents which she would wish to see.

His voice was caressing. Devonshire was a courtier for ladies, she mentally commented; she considered him weak and unfit for the post he now held.

“I shall remain,” she told him pleasantly, “and I pray you cease to think about this ailment, which I know to be trivial.”

There was a touch of command in her voice which they were quick to note; Mary without William was a different woman from Mary with him. She had become a Queen overnight—not merely William’s shadow.

“We must be doubly alert now,” she said. “I trust that we are on the watch for a move which might come from France. Now that the King is away we should be very vulnerable.”

“The King in his wisdom has not taken all his best men, Your Majesty. We are few who remain but some of us do not lack experience.”

That was Mordaunt. She had never liked him, but thought him a little mad. He had visited William in Holland before the revolution and had declared himself willing to help rescue England from popery. He had put forward several plans for William to study. William had laughed at most of them and had said to Mary and Burnet: “This fellow wants to be at the heart of all the adventures which are planned not for the establishment of the Protestant religion in England but for the glorification of Mordaunt. Such a man would be setting himself up as King before long, I’ll swear.”

Marlborough was nodding approval of this speech. Marlborough, Sarah’s husband. The one she trusted least of all. How much was he in league with his wife to turn Anne against her and William? What was their idea? To rid themselves of William and Mary and set up Anne—as William and Mary had made away with James—that they might be the powers behind the throne?

He was a handsome man, this Marlborough—his features clearly cut; his eyes alert, his voice soft and gentle—very different from the somewhat strident tones of his wife—but of all these men who had been chosen for her councillors, Marlborough was the one of whom she must be most watchful.

“What we should look for,” said Marlborough, “is an attack from the French. They might well seize this opportunity while the King’s army is in Ireland.”

“Torrington will look after them ,” said Nottingham complacently.

Mary glanced sharply at him. She was uncertain of Nottingham and had heard that he was a secret Jacobite. He certainly had a sinister look; was it because he was as dark as a Spaniard? He was aloof and his expression was melancholy; it was no wonder that he was nicknamed Don Dismallo.

“I believe the Earl of Torrington to be a good admiral and an experienced one, but I believe too that he is over-fond of soft living,” growled Danby.

Danby! thought Mary. He was growing old now; he looked almost like a corpse already; but he was experienced and he was one of the few around that table on whom she felt she could rely. Russell, Pembroke, and Lowther were decent men, she believed; but they were insignificant compared with eccentrics like Mordaunt and self-seekers like Marlborough.

“We will hope for a quick success in Ireland,” said Mary, “and a speedy return of the King. Now let us get to work.”

They were deep in discussion when a messenger arrived and because of the nature of the news he brought was taken immediately to the council chamber.

The French fleet had been sighted off Plymouth.

William on his way to Ireland! The French Fleet on its way to attack! And all about her men whom she was not sure she could trust. Within a few hours of taking her place as ruler—which William had never allowed her to do before—Mary was confronted with this dangerous situation.

Whom could she trust among all these people around her? Yet she must succeed for William’s sake. She would never be able to face him if she failed now. She must be suspicious of everyone.

She heard that her uncle Charles’s widow, Catherine, had refused to allow prayers for William’s safety to be said in her chapel. Therefore Catherine, a Catholic from birth, was suspect. What plots went on in her apartments? Her Chamberlain Feversham was a Frenchman, and the French were enemies.

Feversham was reprimanded. Oh, how easy it was to strike terror into the hearts of these people! In tears he assured her that he planned no harm to her or to William.

“Yet you said no prayers for the King’s safety,” retorted Mary. “I might forgive you for your insults to me, but I cannot forgive those to the King, who has sacrificed his health for this country.”

Catherine herself came and made tender inquiries as to the swelling of Mary’s face; it was difficult to believe that this gentle lady was an intrigant. She was getting old now and she had never been a fighter.

Mary accepted her condolences; but gave orders that she should be closely watched.

Her uncle, the Earl of Clarendon, was sent to the Tower. He was less self-seeking than many, she knew, but he had never approved of the revolution. He was a stern Protestant; but he had made his vows to James and he was not a man to easily break vows. She knew that he was the man of honor; but men of honor were as ready as others to make trouble if they believed they were in the right.

She had no wish to send her uncle to the Tower; but she must act as William would act if he were here; always she must think of William and do that which would win his approval.

She wote to William, assuring him of her devotion telling him of the danger. She trusted that she was acting as he would wish, which it was her intention to do at all times.

The news grew more alarming. The French fleet, consisting of over two hundred ships, was lying off the south coast.

Arthur Herbert, Lord Torrington, was dismayed. He was a man who, while a good sailor, loved his pleasure so much that in this age of parodying he had quickly earned the name of Lord Tarry-in-Town.

Some months before he had foreseen an attack by the French and believing himself inadequately prepared to meet it, had written to Nottingham begging for reinforcements, but Nottingham had merely replied that he need have no fear for he would be strong enough for the French.

He had replied then: “I am afraid now in winter while the danger may be remedied, and you will be afraid in summer when it is past remedy.”

Well now it was summer; and if Nottingham cared for the good of his country he must be taking Torrington’s words to heart.