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

“Well, yes,” said Stephen blankly. How was he going to put the paper in the gardens?

“Flowerpots,” said the butler. “They’re everywhere.” He showed Stephen a little parlor leading off from the kitchens. “A lot of them go in here. We’ve got to put them somewhere. Now would you like a piece more pie while you’re waiting?”

Stephen said that he would and while he was eating it the butler was summoned to his master’s study for the reply which Stephen was to take back to his master.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” said the butler.

And Stephen was alone, but he could hear the voices of other servants in some of the outhouses. This was the moment, he knew; he might not be alone again; and how was he going to rid himself of the document unless there was no one to see him.

He looked wildly about the kitchen; then he thought of the parlor with the flowerpots. He went into it quickly, picked up a large flowerpot, and knocking out some of the earth it contained, put in the document; he managed to conceal it by covering it with earth. Then he slipped back to the kitchen.

When the butler returned he was sitting at the table eating his pie.

He felt triumphant. He had done the job assigned to him; now all he had to do was wait for his reward.

The butler took him around the gardens as promised and as he feigned an interest he did not feel, he believed himself to be a grand conspirator.

As soon as he could get away he hurried to London and went to Newgate to visit the prisoner, Young.

“Well?” said Young.

Blackhead told him of everything that had taken place and how the incriminating document was in a flowerpot in a parlor which was clearly rarely used.

Young was delighted. “It couldn’t be better,” he said.

Mary sat with her Council to discuss the latest scare.

A prisoner in Newgate had written to the Privy Council warning them that he had evidence of a plot in which the ringleaders were the Bishop of Rochester and the Earl of Marlborough. These men had been in correspondence with James II and a letter containing the signatures of the conspirators and an offer of their services to James, had fallen into his hands. The letter was now in the house of the Bishop of Rochester at Bromley and if they would allow him to explain in detail, he would give them all the information they needed.

“Young?” said the Queen. “I fancy I have heard his name before.”

“I have ascertained, Your Majesty, that he is a criminal, in prison for forgery,” Danby told her.

“These are dangerous times,” replied the Queen.

The Council agreed with her; also that no sources of information, wherever they were, should be overlooked.

As a result Young was able to tell them that if they searched the flowerpots in the Bishop’s house they would find the document.

As a result the Bishop was arrested and a search party was sent to the Bishop’s house and his flowerpots investigated.

Fortunately for the men whose names had been forged, for they would have been sent to the scaffold had the document been discovered, since Young’s signatures were very good indeed, the disused parlor was overlooked; and the party came away without discovering the document.

Sarah was with Anne at Berkeley House in Piccadilly, whither they had come from Sion House as soon as Anne had recovered from her latest confinement, when news was brought to her from St. Albans that her youngest child, Charles, was ill.

“You must go at once to him, dear Mrs. Freeman,” said Anne, “and write to me every day that I may know what is happening to you.”

Sarah promised and when, arriving at St. Albans, she found the child with a high fever, she immediately put all her energies to nursing him.

It was pleasant to be home with her family, but not, as she told her husband, for such a reason.

“This ridiculous state of affairs must be over soon,” she said. “Time is being wasted.”

“Anything can happen in the next few weeks,” replied Marlborough. “There are going to be mighty battles either at sea or on land and they may well decide great issues.”

“And Marlborough skulking at home … in disgrace!”

“Which may be as well,” he said grimly. “It is difficult at this stage to know which side one should be on.”

Sarah was ready to launch into discussion of great plans, but the sickness of the child worried her and as the days passed he grew worse.

She was in the sickroom one day when she heard the sounds of horses galloping and looking from her window she saw a company of guards coming toward the house.

She called to her husband, but he was already on his way down. Rushing after him she was in time to hear what the leader was saying.

Marlborough was arrested on a charge of high treason, and orders were to conduct him without delay to the Tower of London.

Sarah was in despair. She thought of the letters Marlborough had written to James and trembled. Had one of these fallen into the Queen’s hands? If so, he was doomed. But Sarah was not one to believe the worst until it had happened.

Marlborough must be freed from the Tower. He must be proved innocent.

How?

She must go to him. She could be with him in his lodging, make sure that he was well cared for, plan his escape if necessary.

She was preparing to leave when one of the nurses came to her and begged her to come at once to the child’s sickroom.

Little Charles had taken a turn for the worse.

Sarah, numb with misery, sat reading a letter from the Princess Anne.

“I am very sensibly touched with the misfortune that my dear Mrs. Freeman has in losing her son, knowing very well what it is to lose a child, but she, knowing my heart so well, and how great a share I bear in all her concerns, I will not say more on this subject for fear of renewing her passion too much.”

Anne was right. There must be no renewal of passion. The grief was overwhelming. Her beloved son for whom she had planned such a grand future—a corpse in a coffin. But that was past. There were the other children—her dear son John still left to her; her girls, Henrietta, Anne, Elizabeth, and Mary. She still had them.

And her own dear husband, that other John, who was at this moment a prisoner in the Tower.

She must go to him at once. She would take up her lodging there that they might be together.

No. Wait a while. She would go to see him, but she would not stay. She would return to the Princess Anne, because there she could work more hopefully for his release.

Meanwhile there was heartening news for the Queen. The fleet, under Admiral Russell, had beaten the French at La Hogue after a mighty sea battle lasting five days and nights. It was a complete victory. How delighted Mary was! All the anxieties of the last days seemed to be lifted if only temporarily.

Her first thought was for those men who had been wounded in the battle and she sent fifty doctors and hospital supplies to Portsmouth; she gave thirty-seven thousand pounds to be distributed among those who had taken part in the victory; she ordered all the bells to be rung throughout London.