Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II Page 3

  Louise had risen and walked haughtily away glancing at the King almost angrily as though commanding him to dismiss Nelly and follow her.

  Charles affected not to see her, reflecting: Well, they have decided between them. It shall be Nelly tonight.

  He liked having such decisions made for him.

  The next day he remembered the scene when he found Sarah Churchill standing before him.

  A connoisseur of women he automatically summed her up. Virago, he thought, and wondered whether if he had been a younger man she might have attracted him. Although he was ready to promise almost anything for the sake of peace, he could not help being attracted by viragos. Barbara had been one to outdo all others; Louise was not far off—only she fought with tears. This Sarah Churchill, like Barbara, would never do that. He saw the stamp of ambition on her face and wondered momentarily if she would attempt to become his mistress for the sake of advancing her husband’s fortunes. He was so lazy, if she did, he probably would give way.

  Her first words showed him how wrong he had been.

  “Your Majesty, I feel it my duty to bring a certain matter to your notice. I have given much thought to this and know it now to be my duty. It concerns the Princess Anne. Have I your permission to continue?”

  “Pray do,” said Charles, thinking: No, I never would. She is too hard, this one. And I am old and more selective than in the days of my youth. Young she is and handsome, but she’d make too many bargains before getting into bed.

  “The Earl of Mulgrave seeks to marry the Princess Anne, Your Majesty.”

  He regarded her sleepily.

  “I have proof of his intentions,” she went on. “This I have brought to lay before Your Majesty.”

  He took the paper and read the words written there. She was right. A love letter written by his niece to Mulgrave. It would seem that this affair had gone farther than it should have been allowed to.

  “I trust, Your Majesty, I have acted wisely.”

  “I am certain that Mrs. Churchill will always act wisely,” said the King graciously.

  “Then Your Majesty is not displeased with me?”

  “You did not fear that I should be displeased with you,” he said with a smile she did not understand. “It is my niece’s displeasure you expect.”

  “Your Majesty, I beg that this may be kept secret from the Princess Anne.”

  “Who,” put in Charles, “has no notion that you have stolen her little billet doux?”

  “Only because I considered it my duty to … the Princess.”

  “Readily understood, Mrs. Churchill. Have no fear. And … I thank you.”

  “I thank Your Gracious Majesty.”

  She curtseyed and retired while he stood looking at the paper in his hand.

  Poor little Anne! So she had found there was something as sweet in the world as chocolate. There had been times when he had thought she never would.

  He folded the paper carefully and put it into his pocket; then he summoned one of his pages and told him that he wished the Duke of York to be sent to him without delay.

  When James arrived Charles held out the note which Sarah had brought him.

  James took it gingerly and when he read it he looked up, bewildered, into his brother’s face.

  “You see,” said Charles, “that our little Anne is ripe for marriage.”

  “But Mulgrave!” cried James.

  “I echo your sentiments,” Charles told him. “I have fancied that of late my lord had become too hopeful.”

  “You think Anne is in love with the fellow?”

  “Anne loves him as she loves sweetmeats, brother, and the love for a sweetmeat is a passing fancy. There it is … ah, delectable, adorable. What flavor! The taste lingers for a while—a very little while. And then it is gone. When we have removed Mulgrave from her greedy little eyes she will be looking round for the next fancy. We must find something very sweet and succulent for her, brother.”

  “My poor child. I cannot forget Mary.”

  “Anne is not Mary; and we will try to find her a more attractive bridegroom than the Orange.”

  “I was never in favor of that marriage.”

  “Your misfortune James is that you have rarely been in favor of what was to your advantage.”

  Charles gave his brother a melancholy smile. What will become of him when I am gone? he asked himself. There would be trouble. With Monmouth casting sheep’s eyes at the crown and William who couldn’t cast sheep’s eyes if it were a matter of saving his life to do so—still, if the poor fellow could not lech for a woman he could for a throne. William could be as chock-full of passion as Monmouth when it came to the crown of England; and there was James—ineffectual, with a genius for doing the wrong thing at the worst possible moment. Oh, God, thought Charles, never was a man more thankful than I that he’ll be out of the way when his inheritance is for sale.

  “James,” he said, “why cannot you show some sense? Why not let it be known that you’ve given up this flirtation with popery?”

  “Given it up! Flirtation! I like not your levity, brother.”

  “If you could season your seriousness with my levity, James, and I could mix a little of your seriousness with my levity—what a pair we would make! Nay, but if I were a betting man, which I’m not, I would wager my levity would carry me farther from trouble than your seriousness. If you would ostentatiously attend the Protestant Church, if you would practice popery in secret.…”

  “You are asking me to deny my faith.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first.”

  “More’s the pity; but I’d not be proud to join the miserable band.”

  “Do you call our illustrious grandfather one of a miserable band?”

  “Our grandfather! I am tired of hearing how he said Paris was worth a mass.”

  “If you could learn a lesson from his wisdom, James, you would be a wiser man. Do you want to go a-wandering again? God’s fish, man, you have just come back from Scotland. Do not tell me that you enjoyed your exile.”

  “Enjoyed it! Enjoyed being driven from my own country, forbidden to return to my native land … the land which one day—though I trust not for years and years—I could be called upon to rule!”

  “There’s the trouble, James. They are not going to be eager to call upon you to perform that duty.”

  “It is my right.”

  “These people consider that we govern only at their invitation. Take care, James, that that invitation is not withdrawn. I tell you this: I did enough wandering in my youth, and I am of no mind to start again.”

  “Your Majesty fears the people might send you away.”

  “Nay, James, never. They would not rid themselves of me to get you!” Charles began to laugh. “No matter what I did they’d still take Charles in place of James. Now, brother, I’m warning you—and I’m forgetting why I sent for you. We must find a bridegroom for Anne … without delay. Our little plum is ripe for the picking. She needs a husband. Bless her heart, she shall have one.”

  “But not the one of her choice,” said James sadly. “Whom have you in mind?”

  “It is a question I have been pondering ever since I received this note.”

  “I hear that Louis’s wife is ill.”

  “A French marriage! A Catholic marriage! Are you indeed out of your mind, James?”

  “My little girl the Queen of France.”

  “It would not do. But first there is something which I am sure you will agree must be done without delay. I think we should be together when we receive our ambitious young lover. I will summon him without delay.”

  “What are you going to do with him?”

  “Do not look alarmed, James. You know I never take revenge. Nor do I wish my subjects to be in awe of me. I have no wish to be like some of our ancestors. ‘Off with his head. He has offended me!’ ” Charles grimaced at the arch over the fireplace which was decorated with Tudor roses and the initials H. and A. “I do not wish my subjects to go i
n fear and trembling. I would have them know that I do not take revenge; when I am harsh there is no personal animosity. It is a case of: ‘The situation demands this—therefore the King is forced to do it.’ ”

  Mulgrave, who was in his apartments writing a poem in praise of the Princess Anne was startled when summoned to the King’s presence. He could not believe that they were discovered; how could this be? They had been so careful; and Anne would never have told because she had sworn not to do so.

  What if the King had singled him out for some honor! His luck was in. Why should it not continue?

  In good spirits he presented himself to the King; but he was a little uneasy when he saw that the Duke of York was also present.

  “Ah, my Lord Mulgrave,” said the King genially.

  Mulgrave bowed, first to the King, then to the Duke.

  Tears came into the Duke’s eyes. A handsome young fellow; his dear Anne was going to be badly hurt. James would never forget Mary’s sorrow. He had never seen a girl cry so much as she had on that dreadful day when he had had to tell her she was to marry Orange. He loved his daughters dearly and could not bear that they should suffer. He himself had married their mother for love. Poor Mary! Poor Anne!

  “My lord,” said Charles, “we have sent for you to tell you how much we appreciate your good services.”

  Mulgrave found it difficult to hide his relief.

  Charles went on: “So much so that we are sending you on a mission to Tangier which we know you will perform with your usual talent.”

  “Your Majesty …” gasped Mulgrave.

  “Do not waste time in thanks,” said Charles, waving a hand. “You will sail in the morning.”

  Mulgrave did not remember how he left the apartment; all he remembered was that he was standing outside, muttering: “Someone has betrayed us.”

  Anne was bewildered. There was no one to whom she could turn for comfort but Sarah. It was Sarah who had brought her the news. She had said: “Dearest Madam, I do not want you to hear of this through anyone else. You must be brave. The King has, through some means, discovered your love for Mulgrave, who is now far away … bound for Tangier, I have heard.”

  “Sarah!”

  The round mouth sagged piteously; the pink of the cheeks had turned to scarlet; and the vague shortsighted eyes were filled with tears.

  Sarah gathered her mistress into her arms.

  “I am here to comfort you. I will never leave you.”

  “Oh, my dearest Sarah, my beloved friend, what should I do without you?”

  Sarah rocked the Princess in her arms. Tenderness did not come readily to her so it seemed doubly precious to Anne.

  She wept bitterly; she would not be parted from Sarah day or night; they talked constantly of Mulgrave—of his beauty and virtues; and the Princess demanded again and again: “Who could have been so cruel as to have betrayed us?”

  “It may be something Your Highness will never discover,” murmured Sarah.

  Sarah was with Anne when she went along to look at the portrait of Charles King of Sweden. On horseback, the King was quite magnificent. Anne went close to peer at it.

  “He is a very handsome man,” she said.

  Sarah admitted it; and was uneasy. There was an air of authority about the figure. And Sweden! Who wanted to go to Sweden. Not John or Sarah Churchill.

  Anne liked the portrait though. Sarah threw an impatient look at her, and said sharply: “It would seem, Madam, that you have already forgotten my Lord Mulgrave.”

  “No, no, Sarah. I never, never shall.”

  “But you like the look of this fellow?”

  Anne began to laugh. How like Sarah to refer to the King of Sweden as “this fellow.”

  “Sarah,” she said, “you’ll be the death of me!”

  “If I can make my Princess smile I am happy.”

  “Sarah, Sarah, what should I do without you? When you are there I feel I can endure anything.”

  Sarah looked imperiously at the portrait. “Arrogant!” she summed up. “I think we could well do without this fellow in our lives!”

  She had made Anne laugh again.

  Already she had forgotten Mulgrave. But it would not be so easy to prevent the match with Sweden.

  Luck was with Sarah. There was one other who was determined to prevent a marriage between Anne and Charles of Sweden; this was William of Orange, who saw no good to Holland coming from a union between Sweden and England. He expressed his disapproval to his uncle King Charles of England; and as, at that time, Charles wanted William’s friendship, he considered his objections.

  But, as Charles pointed out to his brother James, there was need of haste. King Christiern of Denmark had a brother George who was marriageable and it seemed to him that this Prince George might be a desirable bridegroom.

  “We have been friendly with Denmark for years,” he pointed out to James. “After all we have Danish blood through our grandmother. What more natural than that Anne should marry this kinsman?”

  “We could have a look at him,” agreed James.

  “Certainly there can be no harm in looking.”

  “I do not want to see her unhappy … as Mary was.”

  “Very well. We will invite George over here, have a look at him, and throw the young couple together—”

  “As we brought Orange over here? Mary did not stop crying from the moment she knew he was to be her bridegroom to the time she left. If George of Denmark should prove to be another Orange …”

  “Nonsense, brother, there could only be one Orange in the world.”

  “Then let us invite him to come, and I trust Anne likes him. I would to God daughters never had to reach a marriageable age.”

  “Then it’s more than they do. The Mulgrave affair should have shown you that, James. Daughters grow up. And remember this: Anne is not like Mary. She seems already to have forgotten Mulgrave.”

  James admitted this was true. But he loved his daughters dearly and longed to see them happy.

  Prince George of Denmark arrived in England on a bright summer’s day; he was looking forward with mild pleasure to meeting his bride; but all his emotions were mild, except perhaps his love of food and drink which was excessive; but these indulgences, to whatever excess he carried them, never ruffled his good temper; consequently he was liked, by all who came into contact with him. He was under thirty, already far too plump, but his smile, without which he was rarely seen, was disarming.

  Christiern had advised him to do all in his power to bring off the marriage, because it would be excellent for Denmark if ties between the two countries could be strengthened; and George must remember that a Danish princess had married the great grandfather of his prospective bride, so there was even a family connection. Most important of all—there was little for George in Sweden, so it was up to him to seek his fortune overseas.

  George knew a great deal about England, through an excellent English friend who would be ready to help him with the language and explain the customs. He had visited England in the company of this friend some years before and had liked what he had seen.

  When King Christiern had gone to England to join the celebrations for the Restoration, he had noticed a bright boy of thirteen at the Court and had offered to take him into his service as page. This boy’s name was George Churchill, brother of John and Arabella. Like most of his family, George Churchill was ambitious and he had seen more likelihood, of advancement in Sweden than in England; so to Sweden he went, and Christiern had offered the page to his brother George when he had paid his first visit to England.

  “George Churchill will act as your interpreter,” he said. “More than that he will be at your elbow to explain the English customs.”

  So useful had George Churchill become that Prince George was eager to keep him in his service.

  Thus the two became friends, and when Prince George came to England as suitor to the Princess Anne, it was natural that he should bring George Churchill with him.


  Charles smiled at his brother James. “Well, what do you think of our bridegroom? An improvement on the Orange, eh?”

  “He is more genial certainly.”

  “Who could be less genial than our nephew William? This George looks a man of good temper; and think what he will have in common with our Anne. They will be able to discuss the virtues of marzipan versus chocolate which should prove, to them, an absorbing subject.”

  “I do not want to have to break the news to Anne as I did to Mary.”

  “Anne is two years older than her sister was when we married her to Orange.”

  “All the same I should like to warn her that she should look on Prince George as a possible husband.”

  “Is there need to warn her? The whole Court knows the purpose of his visit, so why shouldn’t Anne?”

  “I shall tell her,” said James firmly.

  The King nodded. “And do not look so sad, brother. Why, according to news from Holland, Mary is now devoted to the husband whom she wept so bitterly to accept.”

  “I shall never believe she truly loves him. He is a monster, that Dutchman. He keeps her almost a prisoner, my friends tell me, and she is afraid to voice an opinion. She dare do nothing but agree with everything he says and pretend to the world that she adores him.”

  “Our nephew is a man of many parts, brother. We always underrated him. He knows how to rule a wife as well as a country.”

  “And he keeps a mistress.”

  “Well, James, it would seem to me that neither you nor I are in a position to complain of such a natural failing. How that man creeps into our conversation! I confess I am a little weary of the Prince of Orange. I find the Prince of Denmark a happier subject. Go and speak to your daughter now, James. Tell her to consider the young man from Denmark. Tell her I favor him—and I have no doubt that she will soon do the same.”

  The Churchills were a devoted family and as soon as he arrived at the Court, George sought out his brother John, and there was much animated conversation concerning George’s adventures in Denmark and John’s at home.

  With pride John introduced his brother to his wife and George soon realized what an unusual woman he had for a sister-in-law.