How dare she! I thought. She was thinking how heartless I was. She knew how much my father had cared for me, and here I was, exulting in taking his possessions which were now mine because my husband, with me at his side, had turned my father from his throne.

It was she who had persuaded my sister to desert him! Her husband had led the army to revolt against him! And Sarah Churchill could stand by with that look of condemnation in her eyes!

I hated Sarah Churchill. She might have domination over my sister, but she would have to remember that I was Queen of England.

So I took possession of the royal apartments. I remembered going to see Mary Beatrice there. I recalled her kindness to the poor frightened child who was to be married and sent away from home. Poor Mary Beatrice, how was she faring now? I thought of her with her little baby — the Warming-pan Baby, as malicious people called him — and her futile husband. What was she thinking now? She had loved and trusted her “dear Lemon” who was now flaunting orange petticoats and had come in to take possession of her apartments.

Now that I was installed at Whitehall, William came to see me. It was the first time we had met since we had said good-bye in Holland. He looked tired and strained, and stooped more than I remembered. But it was always like that when I saw him after an absence. I think in my imagination I changed my image of him — making him taller, straighter, more amiable.

After our last parting I expected more tenderness from him, but he seemed to have reverted to the man he had been. I was hurt and disappointed.

It occurred to me, in one of those flashes of disloyalty which I had known in the past, that he wanted me to come to Whitehall before he did because, unsure of the people’s reaction, I should be the one to take possession of it.

Nonsense, I told myself. This was the natural way; and yet I had hoped that he would be at Gravesend to meet me.

I wanted to tell him how pleased I was to see him and for him to say the same to me. He did nothing of the sort. He merely kissed me coolly.

I said: “William, you are well? Your cough?”

It was tactless. He hated references to his weaknesses. He said: “I am well.”

“You do not ask how I am?” I said a trifle archly.

“I can see that you are in good health,” he replied.

“It has been such an anxious time.”

“It was what we expected.”

“And now you have succeeded all is well.”

“We cannot yet say that all is well.”

“But the people want us, William. They know that you will rule them well.”

“They were not so eager. They wanted to make you the Queen and me . . .” He shrugged his shoulders in disgust.

“I know. But I made my wishes clear, did I not?”

He nodded. “The sooner we have their Bill of Rights and are proclaimed King and Queen the better. I want to get out of this city. It oppresses me. I believe there is a fine palace at Hampton.”

“Hampton Court. Yes, I remember it well.”

“As soon as this matter is settled, I shall leave for Hampton, and if it is all I heard — and the situation, I know, is away from the city — we shall take up residence there.”


* * *

THE CEREMONY TOOK PLACE on the next day. It was Ash Wednesday — not perhaps the best day for such an occasion, but William was anxious that there should be no delay — and with him I went to the Banqueting Hall in the Palace of Whitehall where we were proclaimed King William and Queen Mary.

There was rejoicing in the streets. People put lighted candles in their windows and bonfires were lighted before the doors of the houses. Some of the bonfires were very big and I was told that that was a good sign, for the size of the fire was an indication of the owners’ loyalty to the crown.

I had a feeling that night that the people wanted us. William might be austere, as unlike King Charles as a man could be, but he had a reputation for wisdom: he was a Protestant — the most important reason of all — and I was his loyal wife, even if I had betrayed my father to support him.

The new reign had begun; the country was at peace, and we should go on from there.


* * *

WILLIAM WAS EAGER to get on with ruling the country and establishing the Protestant faith throughout the land. He was impatient of all the pomp and ceremonies that were thrust upon him. I was beginning to understand that this was because he had not the physical stamina to endure them. He grew very tired standing. I knew that his bones ached and his body was too frail to endure that which affected those around him not at all. William’s mind was active, shrewd, brilliant, but his body was frail.

I made excuses for his behavior. His terseness bordered on rudeness, but it was due to pain and discomfort. I wished that I could explain to these people but, of course, that would be the last thing he wished.

Now that I had grown buxom, and I was in fact slightly taller than he was, his meager statue was emphasized when he stood beside me; and my healthy looks accentuated his pallor and fragility.

He was often morose and rather graceless, which did not endear him to the people, and wherever we went together there were cries of “Long live Queen Mary” while King William scarcely received a mention. He was deeply aware of this. He complained bitterly of the London air. It had improved considerably since the Plague and Great Fire and the coming of the wide new streets and new buildings of Sir Christopher Wren, but William found it stifling, malodorous and not good for his health.

He had liked Hampton Court from the moment he saw it. The river and the open country reminded him of Holland and one of his great interests — as with my uncle Charles — was architecture.

Bentinck was anxious; he must have wondered what effect William’s demeanor would have on his new subjects. They had been accustomed to a colorful court. I remember how they used to see King Charles sauntering in the park with one of his mistresses on his arm, surrounded by witty courtiers, and how the King’s remarks were commented on and passed round for all to enjoy. And this new king, whom they had invited to their shores to restore the Protestant faith, was small, without charm, without grace. It was a great price to pay for ridding the country of the Catholics.

However, it was said that he was a clever man and it was early yet; and William did make Bentinck realize that his health would not permit him too public a life. For that reason, Hampton seemed just what was needed, for it was not too far from London and ministers could easily travel there. The air suited William, and he could make the place his headquarters, for a time at least.

He was very critical of the old Tudor palace and soon decided he was going to demolish the main apartments and rebuild them.

The gardens were unattractive and he made plans for these which he allowed me to share.

We spent some time — when he could spare it from state duties — looking at plans, and I was delighted to be able to join in this and even offer suggestions which, on some occasions, were considered. I found a great interest in the gardens, on which work was started immediately, and they were laid out in the Dutch style.

But of course our main occupation must be with the coming coronation, for William said that a king and queen were not accepted by the people as such until they had been crowned.

Therefore it was important that there should be no delay in performing that ceremony.


* * *

THE CORONATION WAS FIXED FOR EARLY APRIL — the eleventh in fact — but it was not going to run as smoothly as we had hoped. In the first place, Archbishop Sancroft, whom we should have expected to officiate, declined to do so.

He declared that he had taken an oath of allegiance to King James II and in no way could he break that oath. Four of those bishops who had been sent to the Tower by James took the same view as Sancroft, even though my father had been no friend to them, and their imprisonment, as much as the birth of the young Prince, had been the final blow which had unseated the King.

William was more silent than ever. He did not like the English and their ways. He had longed for the crown; he had been invited to take it; and now they were making him as uncomfortable as they could.

In due course Compton, Bishop of London, agreed to perform the ceremony in place of the Archbishop of Canterbury; but I think incidents such as this made us feel very uneasy from the beginning.

We were dressed and ready to set out for Westminster Hall when the messenger arrived.

William came unceremoniously into my chamber. He looked paler than usual and very agitated. He was waving a paper in his hand.

“What has happened?” I cried in alarm.

William looked at me blankly for a moment. Then he said: “James has landed in Ireland.”

My first words were: “Is he safe?”

William looked impatient. He went on: “He has taken possession of the island and has been welcomed by the Irish. Only Londonderry and one or two other smaller towns are holding out against him.”

I stared aghast. “What does this mean?” I asked.

“That he will rally forces against us. This is not the end.”

I felt sick. Such news, to come at such a time! It seemed significant that this should happen now, when I stood there in my coronation robes, preparing to receive the crown which was his.

“What must we do?” I murmured.