He would be put into a waiting room when he arrived and would certainly not be taken to the Bishop immediately. He must look around. The Bishop was noted for his interest in plants and there would be a great many of them in pots around his house.

While he was in the Bishop’s residence, Blackhead must find some means of slipping the document into a flowerpot, making sure that it was well hidden. Then he would hand the letter to the Bishop and depart.

Blackhead was not very bright, but he did need the money badly, and Robert Young had hinted that this action of theirs would bring disgrace to some very highly placed people — and that appealed to him.

Strangely enough, up to a point the plot succeeded. The letter to the Bishop — written of course in Young’s expert hand — was reputed to be from some nonexistent deacon of a faraway parish, and served its purpose, for the Bishop must have received many such letters — most of them left unanswered; and being left in a room which contained numerous flowerpots, Blackhead had no difficulty in disposing of the document.

When Young received word that it was safely in the Bishop’s house, it was time to act.

He disclosed the fact that he had heard that there was a plot to assassinate the King and Queen and set James on the throne. He announced that the Bishop of Rochester was involved and that in his house they would find the incriminating document, signed by all the conspirators.

The search was made and nothing found, but Robert Young said he was certain the paper was there and he was given permission to join the searchers. He knew exactly of course into which flowerpot Blackhead had placed it.

He had to act with care, but he prided himself on being a very subtle man. He called attention to the displacement of the earth on one of the pots. He did not wish to discover the paper himself — only to lead someone else to do so.

And indeed there it was.

Thus, as a result, those who signed the document — including Marlborough — were taken to the Tower.


* * *

IT DID NOT SEEM POSSIBLE that Anne could keep Sarah with her now. If Marlborough were found guilty of treason, it would be impossible for her to remain.

I received a letter from Anne.

I had heard the sad news of her confinement and had contemplated going to see her. She had given birth to a little daughter who, like so many of her predecessors, had died a few hours after she was born.

I was sorry for Anne and felt very miserable. How sad it all was! I had been happier in Holland.

William said we should have no communication with Anne until she dismissed Lady Marlborough, but I had to see her at such a time.

She lay in her bed and was clearly pleased that I had come.

“I am sorry,” I said.

She smiled wanly. “I feared it would be so,” she answered. “It seems ever so.”

“You have dear little William.”

“My treasure! But I fear for him. I watch him constantly.”

“He will stay well. There are many to care for him. There is good Mrs. Peck.”

Anne looked a little sullen and I guessed Sarah was bothering her about dismissing the woman.

“I have made the first step in coming to see you,” I reminded her. “I like not this trouble between us. It should not be. Nor would it but for Lady Marlborough. She must go now.”

“The charges against Lord Marlborough are false.”

“Who told you so? Lady Marlborough?”

She did not answer.

“You must take the next step,” I insisted. “You must send Lady Marlborough away.”

“I have never in my life disobeyed you except in one particular, and I believe in time that will seem as reasonable to Your Majesty as it does to me.”

“You mean to say that, in spite of everything, you will not let Lady Marlborough go?”

“I mean that,” said Anne, her lips set in the well-known stubborn line.

I went away very sorrowfully.

William was angry because I had been to see her and more so because I had been unable to persuade her.

Shortly afterward Anne’s guards were sent away and she moved from Sion House to Berkeley House; and Sarah continued to stay with her.

Then, when Robert Young’s documents were examined by experts, the signatures were proved to be forgeries; and Marlborough and his fellow prisoners were released from the Tower.

But William still suspected him of treachery.


* * *

MRS. PACK HAD LEFT ANNE’S SERVICE by her own desire. Lady Derby, one of my trusted ladies, told me what had happened.

“It seems, Your Majesty,” she said, “that Lady Marlborough caught her actually reading the Princess’s letters. She did not deny it. She said it was her duty to make sure there was no treachery against the Queen.”

“She had always been a faithful servant to me,” I said with gratification. “What happened then?”

“Lady Marlborough went straight to the Princess.”

“In triumph, of course.”

Lady Derby smiled in agreement.

“The Princess was very upset. She was thinking of the little Duke, of course. He dotes on Mrs. Pack and all know that it is for his sake that Lady Marlborough has had to endure her all this time. The Princess was most unhappy, for the woman’s reading her correspondence was a very grave matter indeed. Mrs. Pack herself then asked for an audience and, before the Princess could speak — Your Majesty knows Mrs. Pack’s way — she said she could no longer remain in the Princess’s service.”

“The Princess must have been very relieved,” I said. “I suppose Mrs. Pack realized she could not stay after what she did had been discovered.”

“It may have been that she thought her usefulness was at an end. But, of course, there was the little Duke to be considered. Mrs. Pack said her health was not good. I think this may be the truth, because she would never tell a lie. However, she insisted on going. Lady Marlborough is delighted and the Princess, of course, is happy to please her friend.”

“And what of little William?”

“He has been strangely quiet about the matter and did not protest as he was expected to.”

“He is a strange child — so unusual. I have never known another child like him. There are times when I think he is wise beyond his years.”

There was something strange about the child. There were occasions when he spoke like a young man and then a few seconds later would become a child again.

The unusual qualities of the boy were brought home to me afresh by an astonishing story.

He was grave after the departure of Mrs. Pack, but he had not cried, and seemed to accept the story that she had to go away to Deptford for her health.

“She is not well,” he was reputed to have said. “I would not have her ill.”

In his grown-up way, he sent over to Deptford every day to inquire about her health.

He went about his daily life, giving a great deal of attention to his favorite game of soldiers. He had now several boys a year or so older than himself whom he called his “men.” His mother was so anxious to please him in every way and the boys were fitted out as soldiers in miniature uniforms and William took them to the park and exercised them. People used to come and watch. It was one of the most popular sights.

There he would command them — this little boy of four years or so — just like a general shouting orders as they marched to his direction.

I always felt there was something strange about him.

His head was long and there was a mature look in his eyes. Anne told me proudly that his hat was the same size as a man’s. His face was oval, his hair, doubtless inherited from his father, very fair; and his complexion was a glowing pink and white. His body was well-made and seemed to be strong, but he had difficulty with some movements; he always needed a rail when he went up stairs, and help to get up if he had been sitting on a low stool. In addition to this, he had an air of extreme gravity which accompanied certain remarks so that they seemed more like those of an adult than a child.

So when I heard the story I was a little shaken, yet not altogether surprised.

Lady Derby said the whole court was talking about it.

“It is very strange, Your Majesty. But ... how could he have known?”

I waited for an explanation and Lady Scarborough, who was also in attendance, said: “Your Majesty knows how fond he always was of Mrs. Pack.”

“Indeed I know.”

“They were all amazed at how calmly he took her departure. The Princess had expected him to refuse to allow her to go, and in that case, she would have had to remain.”

Lady Derby put in: “But he always sent every day to see how she was.”

“Yes, I heard that.”

“This is the strange part of it, Your Majesty. Two days ago, when the messenger, in accordance with the practice, was about to take the message to her, the Duke said he would not send that morning. Mrs. Wanner — Your Majesty may remember her, she was in his household — asked him why he did not send. He just looked past her, as though he were staring at nothing, and said, “There is no need. She will be dead before the messenger arrives there.”

“What a strange thing for a child to say!”

“Stranger still, Your Majesty, he was right. It transpired that Mrs. Pack had died.”

“He must have heard it.”

“No, Your Majesty. It seemed she died just at the moment he was speaking.”

“How could he have known?”

There was silence.

I was thinking of the little boy and Mrs. Pack. There had been a very special bond between them. I believed that without her he would never have survived.