“That is certain to be so.”

“Sarah must not go when she marries,” went on Anne. “I could not do without Sarah.”

“You are very fond of her,” I said.

“So is my stepmother. She knows that John Churchill wants to marry Sarah. She likes to help them. She thinks it is romantic.”

“In my opinion,” I commented, “from what I know of Sarah, if she wants a marriage, a marriage there will be.”

Anne smiled and nodded.

“My stepmother was not very happy when she was told she must marry,” said Mary.

“She was very young. It was a shock. It can be a shock when you are very young.”

“When you married the King you were old.”

“In comparison, yes. I was nearly twenty-four.”

“That is very old. My stepmother was fifteen.”

“That is very young.”

“I am fifteen,” said Mary, almost pleadingly.

I thought, she wants to talk to me, alone. I decided I must arrange this.

“When my stepmother heard she was to marry my father,” went on Mary, “she wept all day. She screamed and kicked and refused to leave her bed.”

“Did she tell you this?”

“Yes. She is not very much older than I am. Four years only.”

“Then she is like one of you girls.”

“She is happier now,” put in Anne.

“I think she does not mind our father so much. I think she quite likes him. She loves the King. She says he has been kind to her…always.”

“The King is always kind,” I said warmly.

“Yes,” agreed Mary. “And when you came to England, were you frightened?”

“A little. But I wanted to come. I had heard of the King.”

“Oh yes, my uncle is a very nice man. The nicest man in the world…next to my father.”

She looked at me steadily and I wondered how much a fifteen-year-old girl knew of what happened in a court like this one.

“And now she has one baby,” said Mary. “That must be nice.”

“Nice! I thought what a mild way of describing the experience! What joy it must be! If only it had happened to me.

I felt sorry for Mary groping in the dark, aware that it was going to be her turn very soon.

When I was taking my leave, I kissed Anne but I held Mary close.

I said quietly: “I would speak with you, Mary.”

We looked at Anne who was peering at the box of sweetmeats, and Mary followed me out of the room into the small antechamber.

“What is it, Mary?” I asked.

“They are talking about my cousin, the Prince of Orange.”

“Do you know him?”

“No, not well.”

“And there is often talk…”

“Are they arranging a marriage?”

“People in places like ours will always have plans made for them. Sometimes…quite often…they come to nothing.”

“I do not want to go away. I want to stay here always…with us all together. My friend Anne Trelawny, and Elizabeth Villiers and Sarah Jennings…and most of all my sister. I want it to go on like this.”

“There is always change, my dear.”

“But if this Prince of Orange…”

“You will probably like him. Your stepmother did not want to come here but she is happy now.”

“The Prince of Orange is old.”

“Oh no…he is a young man.”

“He is twelve years older than I.”

“That is not so very much for princes. Think of your stepmother and how much older your father is than she.”

She looked at me, her eyes brimming with tears.

I took her in my arms and comforted her. But what could I say? Mary would be sacrificed as thousands like her had been before.


* * *

POOR MARY! I was so sorry for her.

The Prince of Orange had arrived in England. From what I heard from Charles, he was not a very attractive young man.

“Plain spoken, as you would expect,” said Charles. “Not given to courtly manners.”

“Perhaps he has other qualities.”

“I have no doubt he has. He is a very serious young man. He has informed me that, before he proceeds with the marriage, he wishes to see the Princess. Ah well, it is one of the terms of the peace treaty between us. To my mind, he is an ambitious young man. Mary has a chance…a faint one…of reaching the throne.”

I winced and Charles, realizing why, laid a reassurign hand on my arm. He was reconciled to the position and he wanted me to be. I must drop this habit of mine of reproaching myself every time this matter was hinted at.

He went on: “We shall see what the Duchess of York gives us this time. It is likely that the infant may entirely spoil Mary’s chances. But who is to say? I was telling you that young Orange is a very serious young man.”

“I am thinking of Mary.”

“I also. Poor child! James dotes on her, and I think she will not be happy to leave her home.”

“I know she is frightened.”

“They are all frightened when they have to go away to a strange man and a strange court. You know that, Catherine.”

“I was not frightened. I wanted to come.”

He looked melancholy. “Your disillusion came after.”

“Oh no…no.”

“I understand, my dear. We were not so unfortunate, you and I. Certainly not I. But the ordeal now lies before my poor little niece. She has confided in you?”

“A little.”

“And her stepmother too, I’ll swear. ’Tis a pity she has had such a good home, as it gives her the more grief to leave it. Well, the young man wishes to make his inspection. He is quite blunt about it. He does not get his manners from the Stuarts. It’s the stolid Dutch influence coming out.”

When Mary heard the news, she was smitten with grief and she was in a state of fright when she was presented to her prospective bridegroom. I did not know what happened at that interview, and I believe for Mary it was mercifully brief. He appeared to be satisfied with her; she was less pleased with him.

She took to her bed and gave herself up to futile tears. In vain did Anne and the other girls try to pacify her. Nothing could turn her from her melancholy.

I went to see her. There was a note of cheerfulness then because negotiations were lagging a little and Mary’s eyes shone with the hope that the marriage might come to nothing.

William was insisting that it take place immediately, but Charles wished the peace terms to be dealt with first.

He said: “The young man behaves like an impatient lover. I can scarcely believe that of him. He is an astute fellow. He wants to make sure of the marriage. There will be a close bond between our countries if it is settled, which it would not be easy to break. Well, he is my sister’s son and soon now he will be my brother’s son-in-law. He is clever, you know. I wish I could like him as much as I respect him.”

“He certainly does not resemble the friends you like to have around you.”

“There you have it. There is no wit in him. He is all sound common sense and honesty. A stern Protestant. That is why the people like this marriage. It really is a desirable match from all sides.”

“Except poor Mary’s,” I said.

“Mary will get used to him. After all, she has to marry one day. Why not Orange?”

“She is so very young.”

“James was hoping to get the Dauphin for her, but she’ll do better with Orange than at the court of France.”

“Let us hope so.”

Mary’s tears availed nothing. On the Sunday of the fourth of November she was married. I could have wept for her. She looked such a child.

An altar had been set up in her bedchamber. The King was beside me; the Duke of York and his Duchess Mary Beatrice, so heavily pregnant that she looked as though she would give birth at any moment, and the Bishop of London who was to perform the ceremony.

Mary looked dejected and I longed to comfort her.

Charles took her to the altar. He smiled at the pregnant Duchess and said: “We must make haste, lest my sister the Duchess gives us a boy.” Smiling roguishly at William, he added: “And the marriage should be disappointing.”

There was no smile on the face of the Prince of Orange, but he must be hoping that the child would not be of that sought-after sex.

Charles was in a light-hearted mood that day. I could see that he was amused by the Prince of Orange; he had a certain admiration for his astuteness and amazement at his inability to see a joke. He could not help calling attention to William’s foibles, and during the service, when William must say he would endow his wife with all his worldly goods, he placed some gold coins on the book which was open before the pair.

“Gather it quickly,” Charles whispered to Mary. “Put it in your pocket, for it is all clear gain.”

William did not appreciate such frivolity; but he had achieved what he wanted: alliance with England.

There was great rejoicing throughout London because Mary had made a Protestant marriage. Poor little Mary! If only she had been as satisfied! It was sad to see her woebegone face, which was an indication of what she thought of the marriage.

I wondered what was in William’s mind when, two days after the wedding, the Duchess of York gave birth to a boy who seemed likely to survive.

With somewhat malicious intent, Charles decided that the Prince of Orange should stand as sponsor at the baptism of the child, who had disappointed him in his hopes of the crown of England. It was implied that this was a great honor for the Prince. William was not of a nature to respond with the charm Charles would expect from one of his own courtiers in a similar situation, and he did so with a bad grace, knowing full well why the offer had been made.

He made no secret of this disappointment and looked so glum that people wondered whether he was already regretting his marriage.