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

Mary’s death and her interview with William had made Anne feel the need to rouse herself from her customary lethargy. There was her boy’s future to protect and as a poor invalid unable to move she felt she could not do all that might be required of her.

Therefore she decided that she must recover the use of her limbs; one of the reasons why she found walking so exhausting was because of her size so she decided to take cold baths to help reduce her weight, to eat a little less—although this was torture to her—and to hunt more frequently. She had always hunted from childhood so this was no hardship.

In her condition she was, of course, unable to ride on horseback and she had had a chair made which was just big enough to hold herself and this was set on high wheels and drawn by one horse. In this she followed the chase indefatigably.

These efforts combined with her determination to improve her health for the sake of her son, had their effects. She was able to walk when her gout and dropsy were not too painful.

She and George would sit together for hours discussing their boy. The child was often with them and was fond of them. They watched him anxiously and were very concerned because of his difficulty in walking straight; it was a perpetual topic between them.

One day Anne said to George: “Something must be done. He is still walking as though he were first learning. He is like a child of two in this respect.”

“I know, I know,” murmured George.

“It grieves me. Do you think there is anything we can do about it.”

“That we can do?” repeated George.

“Do you think that he is not making enough effort to walk?” George was thoughtful, his head on one side. “It might be possible.”

“Then, George, we must make him walk straight. We must make him walk without the aid of his attendants.”

“How so?”

“By …” Anne winced … “punishing him if he does not.”

“Punishing our boy?”

“It is going to be more painful for us than for him, but if it is the only way …”

“If it is the only way …” murmured George.

“George, you are his father. You must do it. You must take your cane and beat him if he will not walk alone.”

“I … beat our boy!”

“I shall feel every stroke, but if it is the only way …”

George looked as though he were about to burst into tears but he murmured: “If it is the only way …”

Anne was determined. She sent for the boy. He came to them, kissed their hands in his grown-up way, but with him were two attendants who walked beside him to steady him and to keep him from swaying from one side to another.

“My dear boy,” said Anne. “Papa and I want you to walk without help. You are old now, you know.”

“Mama, I cannot.” A fear came into the boy’s face. He wanted to explain to them that when he tried to walk alone he was so giddy that he feared he would fall; and when an attendant walked on either side of him, that kept him straight and prevented the giddiness.

“You must, my son.”

“But I cannot, Mama.”

“Papa and I think you could if you tried.”

The boy was for once unable to explain what was in his mind. How could he tell these people who had normal heads what it felt like to carry one which was top heavy and would not allow him to walk as they did.

His face was set in obstinate lines, but all he said was: “No.”

Anne ordered the attendants to stand back. “Now walk,” she said.

“No,” said the boy.

“Papa,” said Anne signing to George.

The boy saw the cane in his father’s hands and looked at it in some astonishment. He could not believe it was intended for him, for never before had he experienced anything but kindness and indulgence from his parents.

“Walk,” said Anne.

He stood there looking at her.

Then he felt the cane across his shoulders. He started with horror that they should do this to him. He could not understand it.

“Walk,” said his father. “Walk alone.”

The cane descended again and again across his shoulders; and suddenly he was aware of the pain it inflicted.

He cried out and began to run … straight out of the room … alone.

George and Anne looked at each other.

“My poor, poor darling!” cried Anne. “But you see, George, it was effective.”

They were both trembling and on the verge of tears. Only they could know what pain it had caused them to inflict suffering on their beloved boy; they could only bring themselves to do it because they earnestly believed it was for his own good.

A gentle scratching on the door of Elizabeth Villiers’ chamber made her start up in delight. It was the well-remembered signal of happier days.

She ran to the door and flung it open.

“William!” she whispered.

He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him before throwing off the cloak which had completely concealed him.

“I knew you would come,” she cried, almost hysterically. “I knew it.”

“It must not be known that I am here,” he said.

Her spirits sank; he was different—changed toward her. He had surely come to tell her that this was an end of their relationship. How incongruous! The end … now that his wife was dead! All those years they had met clandestinely and he, the stern Calanist, had imperiled his soul by committing adultery for her sake; and now that there would no longer be the need for such sin, he had come to tell her that the relationship was over.

“It has been so long,” she murmured. “I have been so unhappy.”

“I found it long,” he repeated. “I too have been unhappy.”

“And now?”

“I have given a promise to Tenison.”

“But … why?”

“There was a letter she wrote—two letters, one to me, one to the Archbishop. It concerned us. She asked me to end our relationship; and she asked Tenison to extract the promise from me.”

“She would rule you from the grave as she never could in life,” said Elizabeth bitterly.

“I will not be ruled.”

Her smile had become radiant, but he would not look at her.

“Do not imagine,” he went on, “that I have not thought of you over this long time.”

“This long, long time,” she murmured.

“I have thought of ways … and means … and this is what I plan. We must not meet …”

He saw the despair in her face and he was as delighted with her as he had been when he had first discovered the nature of her feeling for him.

“… in England,” he went on. “I will keep my promise. But there is Holland.”

She looked puzzled and he took a step toward her as though to lay his hands on her, but he stopped himself.

“I have decided that you shall have a husband, a husband will give you a position worthy of you.”

“And you?” she asked.

“I shall be often in Holland; you and your husband shall accompany me there; and there it shall be as it was in the past.”

“I see.”

“This pleases you?”

“I accept as always Your Majesty’s commands,” she answered.

How like her! So clever, and yet so amenable. It had always been so; she had always given him what he needed. He was not a sensual man and the sexual act would never be of the utmost importance to him. He could contemplate this separation without despair; but he would not have her believe that he had deserted her.

He said swiftly: “I am bestowing on you the private estates of James II in Ireland.”

She caught her breath; she would be a rich woman in her own right.

“And,” went on William, “when we have decided on your husband, rest assured I shall give him an earldom.”