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

“There are many of us,” Barbara pointed out.

“She needs someone whose sole care is for her. She needs affection and there are few who can give that.”

Barbara lowered her eyes. She would like to have told Sarah Churchill that she was not subtle enough; her loud voice and her loose tongue didn’t deceive anybody. Those who believed her motives were altruistic would have to be very simple indeed. But Barbara had no wish to quarrel with her, for Sarah’s behavior was just what was needed to give everything away. It would not be nearly so easy to gauge what was going on in this household but for her audible vituperations.

The midwife was with the Princess. This had been a longer labor than usual and Sarah was anxious.

She was at the bedside when the child was born.

A boy. A poor frail little boy, who breathed for a few minutes and then like so many of his predecessors, died.

Mary came to Sion House expecting, from the reports she had had, to find her sister on the point of death.

Anne was propped up in her bed and when Mary saw that she was no worse than after other accouchements she was angry. A campaign, doubtless, started by Sarah Churchill, to call attention to the poor neglected Princess who had been brought to bed in Sion House instead of Whitehall or St. James’s.

All this, when the country was in danger of invasion, and sisters could not stand together!

Mary sat beside the bed and said: “I had expected to see you in worse state.”

“I have had a very bad time,” sighed Anne.

“You look a little tired, that is all.”

Anne put her kerchief to her eyes. “And I have lost my baby.”

“You have little Gloucester, so you should be thankful. You have been more fortunate than I.”

“But think how many times I have been brought to bed … only to suffer loss.”

“We must accept our fate. I have come to talk seriously to you. There should not be quarrels in families. The times are too dangerous. We should stand together. So I have made the first step toward ending our quarrel by coming to see you. You must make the next.”

“But how so?” asked Anne.

“You know what I mean. Get rid of the Marlborough woman.”

“I have never disobeyed you but in this one respect,” said Anne. “I believe that some time you will see how unreasonable it is of you to ask me to give up my greatest friend. I will not do it.”

Mary stood up. “Then I have nothing more to say to you now.”

When she had gone, Sarah, who had naturally been listening, came into the apartment.

“Well done, Mrs. Morley. I am proud of you.”

“She came just to ask me to get rid of you.”

“Insolence! She is worried you know.”

“I gathered that. It is the thoughts of invasion.”

“James has an army assembled in Normandy. If he comes, you should be prepared. He will hate them … but he will be ready to forgive you. You should write to him without delay.” Sarah brought her mouth close to the Princess’s ear. “Tell him that when he comes to England you will go at once to him.”

“Oh, Sarah, you think he will soon be here?”

“No. But it is as well to be prepared. One can never be sure.”

“How right you are on all things, Sarah.”

“It is because my undivided attention is given to the affairs of my dearest Morley.”

THE FLOWERPOT PLOT

here were many people in England at this time who were wondering how to turn the situation to their advantage—some low born as well as high—and one of these was a man named Robert Young.

He was lying in Newgate Prison when he conceived the idea of fabricating a plot which would be a sham, of course, but which could be used by people in high places to rid themselves of their enemies. He had tried to get this taken up and even succeeded in having it brought before William himself, but William had treated the suggestion with disdain and had thought it too trivial to inquire from what source it came.

Robert Young had been cheating all his life—he lived by it, he delighted in it, and if it had not brought him great wealth it had brought adventure. His greatest skill was forgery; he could copy a signature after a little practice so that it was impossible to tell it from the original. Such a gift was invaluable to his schemes and he longed to make use of it. He had spent most of his youth in Ireland although he had been born in Lancashire. He claimed that he had been educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and although he had diplomas to authenticate this his name was not on the list of graduates. By producing his forged certificates he procured admission to deacons orders and became a curate in Waterford. He married, tired of his wife, and went through a form of marriage with Mary Hutt, the daughter of an innkeeper who, liking the adventurous life, was more to his taste. He did well as a curate, performing all sorts of illegal acts for a good price, but he had to run away when one of his flock became pregnant.

He was arrested for bigamy and sent to prison but was released when he promised to divulge a Popish plot. This he did by forging the signature of various people to whom he had written at some time or other merely for the purpose of supplying himself with signatures he could copy: On the point of being discovered he came to England.

It did not take Young long to forge more documents which he pretended had been written by the Archbishop of Canterbury. With these he managed to delude several clerics, live on their bounty, and extract money from them, until he was found out; at Bury he and Mary Hutt were imprisoned.

While he was in jail he wrote to the Archbishop of Canterbury telling him that he had been ill-used, giving him a long account of a fictitious Irish background, asking for his help and promising in return to uncover plots against the state. The Archbishop ignored this and on being released from Bury jail Young forged the Archbishop’s signature and worked the same trick in England as he had in Ireland, visiting wealthy clergymen, telling them he came from the Archbishop, and extracting large sums of money from them.

Eventually the Archbishop heard of the fraud, and Young and Mary Hutt went back to jail—this time to Newgate.

Failing to gain interest in the plot he was trying to fabricate, Young decided that he would work by himself. If he could disclose a plot involving famous people he believed he would not only be released from prison but would be substantially rewarded and given an opportunity of being in the company of men who could be of use to him—if only giving him opportunities of forging their signatures.

The great scandal at this time, even in the prisons, was the dismissal of the Earl of Marlborough. Marlborough had distinguished himself in Ireland and Holland; he had been a soldier of importance even before the coming of William; yet he was deprived of all his commands and employments and living in disgrace. It was said that he had spread disaffection in the Army by complaining of favor shown to foreigners and had taken bribes. Was this the real reason? It was whispered everywhere that Marlborough was a “Jack” planning to bring back James.

A plot, thought Young, which would involve Marlborough, would make them notice him.

He drew up a document which was meant to be a declaration for the restoration of James II. He had had opportunities of examining the signatures of the people he wished to involve, for he had seen Marlborough’s signature on military papers and those of others on public declarations; and his knowledge of church affairs decided him to involve the Bishop of Rochester, who was known to be easygoing and something of an opportunist.