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

“So Your Highness saw what happened?”

“She told you that she did not want it.”

“People say of money ‘Take it away. I won’t have it.’ But they are only waiting to be pressed.”

Gloucester considered this.

“But she is not people,” he said gravely. “She is Mrs. Davies.”

“Mama,” said Gloucester , “may I come to church with you?” Anne opened her eyes very wide. “I thought my boy did not care to go to church.”

“I wish to go now,” he said.

“I am pleased.”

“She is pleased too.”

Anne knew that he meant Mrs. Davies.

“I can say ‘Our Father’ now. And I know the Commandments. She says them and I say them after her. The psalms too.”

“You once said that you would never say the psalms.”

His face puckered for a while. It was true. Then he smiled. “I shall have to sing them.”

Anne thought then how happy they had been at Twickenham. It was a strange little interlude in her life—perhaps it would be in his, too. To live quietly in the country, like an ordinary family, walking across the fields to church; and she felt so much better that she was able to walk that little distance. The fruit and vegetables had seemed to do them all good—and to be away from Court in this quiet house of an old lady who could not live much longer, away from bickering and strife, ambitious men and women, the ranting of Sarah.…

What was she thinking? She was longing to be back with her dear Mrs. Freeman. Heirs to thrones could not endure the quiet life forever.

“You must be eager to be back with your men,” she said to her son.

His expression was intent. He thought of his soldiers marching up and down in the Park, while he took the salute, and the excitement made him tremble.

Then he thought of sitting with the old lady and enjoying her talk or her silence.

He was unsure.

He was very sad when the time came to say good-bye to his friend, and, understanding how he would feel, his mother had ordered that his soldiers should be posted as sentinels at Campden House to give him a welcome back.

As he rode up they presented arms and he felt a great joy to be back.

The old lady and her quiet house at Twickenham seemed like part of a dream, something to think about when he was in bed at night, when he could close his eyes and repeat the Lord’s Prayer and the psalms and recall every inflection of her beautiful but sometimes quavering voice.

This was real. This was living.

There was a new pistol waiting for him which delighted him. It was made of wood, but there was a trigger which could be pulled so that it looked like the real thing.

Yes, he was glad to be back.

GARTER AND GOVERNOR FOR GLOUCESTER

hile Gloucester was drilling his soldiers in the gardens before Kensington Palace William was in Flanders fighting the French, and at the end of the summer he won his most significant victory of the entire campaign when he captured Namur. There was rejoicing throughout the country as the people believed that this must mean the end of the war was in sight. No more taxes; a settling down to peace; that was what was needed and they believed that William could bring about this state of affairs.

Gloucester listened to the war news and immediately planned a capture of Namur between his own men. During the fight he fell and grazed his forehead with his own pistol and although it was bleeding insisted on carrying on with the mock battle.

Every little ailment or accident must be reported to his mother and she came immediately to his apartments to see the damage for herself.

“A bullet grazed my forehead,” he told her. “If I had been a boy I should have cried, but as a soldier, of course, I cannot.”

Anne commanded that the wound be dressed; and wished that she could put an end to these rough games.

She did order that no one was to fence with the Duke of Gloucester. “For,” she declared to Lady Fitzharding, “I have heard of many accidents coming about through fencing.”

But almost immediately she saw Gloucester practicing with the sword, though alone, and she demanded to know why he did this.

“Have you forgotten that I have forbidden anyone to fence with you?”

“I hope, Mama,” replied the Duke gravely, “that you will give them leave to defend themselves when I attack them.”

She marveled at his wit and intelligence. Was there ever such a boy. He was the delight and terror of her life.

At the beginning of autumn, William returned from Flanders.

William, returning as a conqueror, had begun to think that he was firm enough on the throne not to have to bother to placate the Princess Anne. He had promised her St. James’s Palace but had not yet given it to her. Why should he give the foolish woman anything, particularly as Sarah Churchill was at her elbow, pressing her to demand this and that.

But when he went to visit Campden House he could not help being charmed by young Gloucester, who had his army drawn up to form a guard of honor for him. The boy was bright and amusing, a born soldier, for he would not have had this little army otherwise.

He walked beside William inspecting the “troops” and asking his advice about them. William gave it seriously, enjoying the occasion, feeling more at ease with the boy than he did with his mother, or any of his English ministers.

“It will not be long,” Gloucester assured William, “before my men are serving you in Flanders. I shall be with them to command them, of course, and willingly I offer you my services.”

“I am sure you and your men will serve me and their country well.”

Gloucester saluted with the utmost seriousness and the King gravely acknowledged this.

“What horses have you?” asked William.

“I have one live and two dead,” answered Gloucester.

“Dead horses? Soldiers do not keep dead horses.”

“What do they do with them then?”

“They bury the dead horses.”

“Mine shall be buried at once.”

William watched with amusement while the boy gave orders that his two wooden horses be buried.

“I shall need replacements,” he said.

“What of the one live one?”

“I ride on him in the park. He is not very big, but later I shall have hundreds of big ones.”

“I see,” said the King.

And all those who watched them marveled at the boy’s power to charm even William. Anne was delighted. This was a clear indication that William happily accepted the boy as his heir.

That was a brief interlude in the King’s day. He was feeling wretchedly ill and was forced to face the fact that he was growing more and more feeble.

He had never been a happy man, but since the death of Mary he had become even more morose than before. He had lost her adulation, and the comfort of Elizabeth’s companionship, for having given his promise to Tenison not to continue his liaison with her, he could not do so … in England. There was little left to him but his Dutch friends. Keppel was his first favorite, a handsome charming gay young man, who had not the worth of Bentinck, but somehow he craved for his company. He did not want Bentinck’s frank advice; he was impatient with his friendship and Bentinck knew this and kept away. He had even left Court—a matter which often gave William deep misgivings. Mary, Elizabeth, and Bentinck—all lost to him—and in their place young Keppel.