When she arrived, I said: “I have an important duty for you, Elizabeth, and I know you will carry it out with your usual efficiency. That is why I have chosen you to do it. There is a letter which my father must have in his hands with all speed, and I want you to deliver it for me.”

She looked at me in astonishment.

I felt strong and brave, my father’s daughter, heiress to the throne of England. If ever I attained that crown, I should be very important — more so than William. The Villiers family had always been aware of whom they must please and surely I was one.

I expected William had told Elizabeth that I now knew of their relationship; she might think therefore that this was some sort of revenge on my part. However, she could not disobey me and she could not reach William to get him to release her from this task I was giving her.

She smiled at me but I knew she did not feel in the least like smiling.

I knew her devious mind was trying to find some way of evading what I was suggesting, but I was not going to let her do that.

I said: “I shall send an escort with you to put you onto a packet boat and conduct you to Whitehall. There you will deliver the letter into my father’s hands. You must go direct to him. Be prepared to leave tomorrow morning.”

I doubt whether she had ever seen me so regal as when I reminded myself of my position I could be; it was only William who overawed me and the thought of him out of reach gave me the courage I needed.

She said tersely: “I shall be ready to leave tomorrow morning.”

I was amazed how easy it was and I blamed myself for being so docile in the past. I only had to remind them by my manner who I was and they showed their deference.

I laughed triumphantly, though I did have a tremor or two when I thought of William’s return and his finding that I had dismissed his lover. But for the moment I was safe.

Before the night was out I wrote a letter to my father in which I told him I was sending William’s mistress to him with a letter. There was nothing of importance in the letter. I should seal it so that it could not be tampered with. When she arrived I wanted him to keep her there. I told him that William knew I was aware of his liaison with her and I had decided to stop it as he refused to give her up.

I sent off the letter by a messenger I could trust, impressing on him its urgency and that there must be no delay in delivering it to my father’s hands and his alone.

The next morning Elizabeth left.

It was only then that I realized the enormity of what I had done, and I waited in trepidation for William’s return.


* * *

HE WAS AWAY FOR A FEW DAYS ONLY. I saw him the day after and, to my amazement, there was no difference in his attitude toward me.

I waited. He would soon discover what had happened, for there would be several who knew that I had sent Elizabeth on an errand to England. I was very nervous, wondering how I could ever have acted so daringly.

A week passed without there being any mention of her. Could it be that he had not yet discovered her absence? In that case, the relationship between them could not have been so strong. Perhaps I had been over-rash, jumped to conclusions.

Another week had gone by and still nothing was said of her departure. None of my ladies mentioned it. Of course, they knew I had sent Elizabeth out of the country. They would understand and they usually knew as much about my affairs as I did myself.

One day Jane Zulestein came to me in a state of some excitement.

She said: “Your Highness, I saw Elizabeth Villiers today.”

“You saw her?” I cried. “Where?”

“In the palace. She was walking quickly. She had a scarf about her head so that it was not easy to see her face, and she was walking with her head down and hurriedly. She was going into the Bentincks’ apartments.”

“You must have been mistaken,” I said.

“No, Your Highness, I was certain of it.”

I was shaken. Bentinck’s apartments, I thought. They were next to William’s and, of course, Elizabeth’s sister Anne was Bentinck’s wife. If it were possible that Elizabeth was in Holland, that was one place where she might go.

My father would surely have taken heed of my letter. He was angry about William’s treatment of me and, in any case, he would do everything to help me.

For a few days I assured myself that Jane had been mistaken. She must have seen someone who looked like Elizabeth going into the Bentinck apartments.

When a letter from my father arrived, I understood what had happened.

He had been awaiting the arrival of Elizabeth. I could rest assured that, had she come, she would not have been allowed to return. The truth was that she had not come. He had had inquiries made and it transpired that, when she reached Harwich, and as she was stepping off the packet boat with her escort, she stopped and said she had left something behind and must go back to get it. The escort offered to go and retrieve the object but she assured him she must do this herself. She left him and that was the last he saw of her.

Further inquiries had been made and it was discovered that she must have slipped ashore unseen and caught another packet boat back to Holland.

It explained so much. I had been foolish to think I could outwit such a woman.

One of the Villiers sisters had recently married a Monsieur Puisars, son of the Marquis de Thouars, and they were living at The Hague. Elizabeth had stayed with them and from time to time she made visits to the palace to see William.

How clever they were! How devious! And how they must be laughing at my feeble attempts to frustrate them.

What was so strange about the matter was that William never mentioned it to me; and his attitude toward me had changed not at all.

WILLIAM AND MARY

About this time there came to Holland a man who was to have a great influence on me. I had reached a point in my life when I was very uncertain. I longed for a perfect marriage. I admired William in many ways but I had been bitterly hurt by his ill-treatment of me. I did not altogether understand my feelings for him; they were mixed and muddled. For so long in my life I had made an idol of my father. And now that image was crumbling. I was blaming him for the friction between my native and my adopted countries. I was lost in a wilderness. I needed guidance and Gilbert Burnet came along to give it.

Burnet was a brilliant man — a master of Greek and Latin, and a student of civil and feudal law. His father had determined he should have a career in the Church and he went through a course of divinity.

He had had an adventurous life before he came to us and his wide experiences had taught him tolerance.

He was a most unusual man, particularly considering his calling. He was tall, his eyes were brown, his brows thick and almost black; and he was a merry man in spite of his serious dedication.

He was even welcomed by William, because he did not approve of the way life was moving in England, and he regarded William and me as the next monarchs.

My father, he believed, was walking straight into a disaster of his own making; and he thought William and I should be ready when the time came for us to take over. He thought this could not be far off. This man helped to draw William and me together, and he made me understand William more than I ever had before. And I think he had the same effect on William in regard to me.

Gilbert Burnet had the gift of speaking of serious matters in a jocular way, yet in a manner not lessening their importance.

To my amazement, through my conversations with him, I discovered that I had quite an understanding of theology, for during my time of seclusion, I had read a great deal. Now I could discourse with knowledge and perception on these matters, and this impressed Gilbert. He imparted this to William and I detected a new respect toward me from my husband — almost imperceptible but still there.

My father, of course, was not very pleased that Gilbert Burnet should be at The Hague, and there ensued a long correspondence between us about this.

My father was more eager than ever that I should become a member of the Catholic Church. It seemed almost certain now that I should inherit the throne and he could not bear to think of his successor undoing all that he had done to promote Catholicism in England.

His folly alarmed and exasperated me. I loved him as I ever had and always would, but he seemed to me, in the light of all I was learning from Gilbert Burnet, to be acting like a wayward child.

My letters to him began to surprise me. I had for so long thought of myself as a poor scholar. I had seemed less so when compared with my sister Anne, of course, but even so I had never been erudite. Now I was amazed by the ease with which I could express my feelings in those long letters to my father who, although he did not agree with my views, complimented me on my erudition.

I talked a great deal to Gilbert Burnet. During this time I was missing Anne Trelawny very much. I had been accustomed to talk over my feelings with her, and there was no one else in whom I could confide as I had in Anne. With Gilbert Burnet it was different. Of course, we did not talk gossip as Anne and I had frequently done and it is surprising what can be learned from gossip; but I did find my discussions with Gilbert illuminating and a solace.

He made me understand that the break with Rome which had been the great event of the last century had come about through a king’s carnal desires, but it had brought great good to the nation. England must never return to the domination of Rome; and it was clear that it was along that path that my father was trying to lead the country.