“Zulestein married to that girl!” cried William. “Who is she? Nothing ... nobody! And he my kinsman! And you gave your consent to the match! Nay, encouraged it. Insisted on it.”

I heard myself say in a defiant voice: “It was a marriage which should have taken place months before.”

“Have you forgotten that he is a member of my family?”

“All the more reason why he should honor his commitments.”

I felt my courage waning and feared that at any moment I might break down and confess I was in the wrong. But something told me that I must be strong. If I allowed myself to be cowed, his contempt for me would be aroused. I had to be strong now. He dared not harm me. I was too important to his schemes.

I lifted my head and said: “I did what Dr. Ken and I believed to be right.”

“That man is at the heart of this. That meddler . . .”

“Dr. Ken is a good man,” I said. “He made Zulestein see where his duty lay.”

“You had the temerity . . .” He paused. I could see the disbelief in his face. He was thinking that I should never have acted so without Dr. Ken to persuade me.

I said coolly: “Jane Wroth is a member of my household. She is therefore my concern. I believe it was my duty to see right done to her.”

This change in my attitude disconcerted him, and he became wary. I knew that, apart from the moral issue, I had done right to stand out against him in this.

Dr. Ken, who must have been listening in the next room, chose that moment to knock on the door and ask leave to enter.

“Yes, come in,” cried William. “I hear you have taken upon yourself to arrange a marriage for my kinsman.”

“A belated but necessary ceremony,” said Dr. Ken.

“You are impudent,” retorted William, and I believed he was venting the rage he felt toward me on Dr. Ken.

“You come here instructing the Princess to disobey my wishes.”

“It was my own decision,” I said, feeling strong with Dr. Ken beside me.

“I have no doubt he advised you.”

“The Princess is capable, and has the right, by reason of her rank, to make her own decisions.”

He was reminding William that he must be careful in his treatment of me, and I saw William’s eyes glint in anger.

“You are an interfering priest,” he said. “Pray in future leave matters which are beyond your understanding to those whom they concern and keep your notions of what is right and wrong for those who wish to hear them. And remember this: I will not have you meddling in the affairs of this country.”

“I have come here to practice my calling,” replied Dr. Ken. “And nothing will prevent my doing that.”

I shall prevent your arrogant interference in my affairs,” said William.

“Your Highness, I cannot be obstructed in my duties and shall make preparations to return to England without delay. I believe there are some there who will be interested to hear of the harsh treatment which is accorded to the Princess.”

William said: “Leave as soon as you wish. It cannot be too soon in my opinion.”

With that he left us.

I looked at Dr. Ken in dismay.

“You cannot go,” I said.

“I have no alternative.”

I had drawn courage from this man. I needed him to be with me.

“I shall feel so alone without you,” I said.

“There is no reason to. The Prince is an ambitious man. He dare not go too far in his treatment of you. Already I have spoken of it. He knows that and he does not like it. Your Highness must never forget your position. He is aware of it constantly and does not like it. He wants to be in control. Do not forget, my dear Princess, that he can only go so far. You have weapons to fight back. Now, I must go and make my preparations.”

“Please, Dr. Ken. I have need of you. Do reconsider your decision. I know you are right in what you say. You have given me great strength. Pray do not go. I beg of you — stay. Stay a little longer.”

He looked at me tenderly.

“You have heard what was said. You realize my position. I cannot stay unwelcome. I must return to England.”

“If you will only stay a little while . . .”

“It will take me a day or so to prepare.”

“Please, Dr. Ken, you have given me courage. I need you here. Please do not go just yet.”

He said: “I will wait a day or so.”

It seemed to me very important that he should stay.


* * *

IT WAS LATER THAT DAY when William came again to me. He was calm and cold, his old self.

He said: “Have you seen Dr. Ken?”

“I have asked him to stay,” I replied, with a note of defiance in my voice.

I was surprised to see that he looked pleased at this.

“What says he?”

“He says he cannot stay.” I held my head high. “I do not wish him to go.”

To my astonishment, William said: “It is better for him to stay the appointed time. We shall only have another such in his place.”

“But you have made it difficult for him to stay. You have as good as told him to go.”

“Only when he announced his intention of doing so. You should persuade him to stay.”

I smiled a little wryly. Of course, he did not want Dr. Ken to go home and tell them how badly the Prince treated me. The people would be angry. Their emotions were quickly aroused. He would give them a picture of the poor Princess — their English Princess — who was treated as of no importance by a Dutchman. And when the time came — if it did come — when he rode through the streets of London with me, they would remember the Dutchman who had been harsh to their Princess.

I saw how his mind was working. He had been so enraged by the Zulestein marriage that he had temporarily — and rarely — lost his calm judgment. He had said that which would have been better unsaid; and now he was anxious to keep Dr. Ken under supervision that he might not go back to England and preach against William of Orange.

I could not help smiling slightly as I turned to him.

“I have tried to persuade him. I think if you want him to stay, you should ask him yourself.”

William seemed taken aback at the prospect.

“You can persuade him,” he said.

“I have tried, but I think you have offended him too strongly and that he will need to be told that his presence is not distasteful to you.”

This was a strange turn of events. I was advising William.

He said: “I might see the man.”

Yes, he was indeed afraid of Dr. Ken’s returning to England and speaking disparagingly of the Prince of Orange.


* * *

I SAW DR. KEN A FEW HOURS LATER. He was smiling.

“The Prince has been to see me,” he said. “Yes, he came to me and did not summon me to his presence. A rare condescension. He has been emphatic in his desire that I should stay. He was shocked by the sudden marriage of his kinsman, he explained, for he had had plans for him. But he saw the point and realized that I did only what a priest must do in the circumstances. He said that the Princess had been comforted by my instruction and was extremely upset at the prospect of my departure, and for that reason he hoped I would reconsider my decision.”

“And you have?”

Dr. Ken smiled.

“I have said I will stay for another year, but I did imply that I was not satisfied with his treatment of Your Highness. It may amaze you that he showed no resentment. I thought that he might repeat his desire to be rid of me, but he did not. Instead he said that, if I would stay on a little to please the Princess, I should be very welcome at The Hague.”

So Dr. Ken stayed with us.

I had certainly changed. I had lost some of my meekness. I had confirmed the importance of the English crown and that William must constantly be reminded that the easiest way to it was through me.

REVELRY AT THE HAGUE

I was so glad that Dr. Ken stayed with us. He was a comfort to me and at that time I needed comfort.

Frances Apsley had married Sir Benjamin Bathhurst. I knew that she would marry sooner or later as she was advancing into her twenties. Her letters had changed. She was very happy, she wrote to me, and soon after that she was pregnant. She was still my dearest friend, as she had said she always would be, but I could see there were more important things in her life now — her marriage, and the child she was expecting. I envied her and yet I was glad of her happiness. But it made her remote and I knew that it would not be the same henceforth. Perhaps it never had been what I had imagined, but there had been great happiness in the belief and that had been essential to my comfort.

I longed for a happy marriage, a child of my own. But I was married to William. Could I ever make him love me as Sir Benjamin obviously loved Frances? Was it possible? Should I try?

I have always been fanciful and I began to build up a picture of domestic happiness which was a complete contrast to reality: William discovering how much he loved me — a completely different William from the dour, ambitious man I knew. His true feelings had been hidden beneath that stern facade he showed to the world. I had awakened him to love. My hopes of the crown were of no importance. Oddly enough, I began to believe that it might be true.

Then, even in my realistic moments, I began to feel that there might be just a grain of truth in my dreams, for William and I discovered a shared interest. He was fascinated by buildings and so was I — particularly gardens.