She was about to say that she was looking for a lost diamond when, her eyes having become accustomed to the light, she saw them, and recognition was instantaneous. It was Jemmy and Henrietta Wentworth, and she knew what they were doing.

She stood for a few seconds and then ran from the room.

Jemmy and Henrietta! But Jemmy was married.

She was shocked and horrified: and there was some new emotion too which she had not experienced before. She was not sure what it was; she only knew that she had been fond of Jemmy, and was horrified that he could so betray his wife.

She ran out of the room and on to the stage. How foolish of her, for the hall was crowded and she would be seen.

“Is anything wrong?”

Mary turned round; she was looking into the lovely face of Frances Apsley.

“So … it is you,” stammered Mary.

“You seem distressed, my lady.”

“Yes … yes … I believe I am.”

“If I could help you …”

“I do not know.”

“If you feel that you could confide in me …”

“Yes, perhaps I could.”

Frances Apsley took Mary’s hand and led her into an anteroom, similar to that in which Mary had seen Jemmy and Henrietta Wentworth, but this one was lighted.

“There, let us sit down.”

They sat in one of the window seats and Mary leaned against Frances and felt comforted.

“I don’t think I can tell you,” she said. “It was … disgusting. It was someone I know.”

“I think I understand.”

“Do you? But that is clever of you.”

Frances smiled. “I am a good deal older than you.”

“I am eleven,” said Mary.

“That makes me nine years older than you.”

“You are very wise and beautiful.”

Frances laughed. “I think you may not be very discriminating.”

“I only know,” said Mary, “that when I saw you I knew that I had never seen anyone so beautiful.”

“When you come to Court you will meet many beautiful people.”

“Perhaps,” said Mary. “But when I see perfection I know it. I am so honored that you spoke to me. Do you know, that does not seem important any more.”

“I am glad. I am sure it was not of any great importance.”

“No. It is only when things like that happen to people of whom one is very fond … And I was fond of …”

Frances laid a hand over that of the Princess. “Don’t think of it. It is best forgotten.”

“Meeting you has made it seem unimportant. Your name is Frances. I think it is a lovely name—but not lovely enough for you, of course. I want to go on talking to forget that. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Frances, “I understand. Let us talk of the ballet. You danced beautifully, and of course you were the center of the play. Diana was charming.”

“Oh, that reminds me. She is so distressed. I was looking for it when …” Mary turned to Frances. “You are so wise. Perhaps you can help me comfort her. Margaret Blagge has lost a diamond which belonged to Lady Suffolk, and she is terrified because she is afraid she will have to replace it and she is not rich.”

“It will likely be found.”

“Yes, Frances, but if it is not? Poor Margaret is almost ill with grief. You see she did not want to dance in the ballet because she thinks dancing sinful, and she did not want to borrow the diamonds. It is very sad.”

Mary’s long dark eyes were expectant as she lifted them to the face of her new friend.

“Have you told your father?” asked Frances. “He might be able to help.”

“Do you think he would?”

“I am sure that if you asked him he would want to do it … just to please you.”

“You are right, Frances. Oh how clever you are. Let us go to him at once.”

“You wish me to come?”

“Yes, I want to show him that I have a new friend. He will be so delighted that I have found you.”

Frances laughed. “I do not think so,” she said.

“But you are wrong. He wants me to be happy. He loves me very much and I …”

She frowned. She did love him; if only she did not have to imagine … what she had seen this night with Jemmy!

She hated it. It was degrading and humiliating. But she would not think of her father and Jemmy. She had a new friend—Frances Apsley—and their relationship would never be sullied by degrading actions.

“Let us find my father,” she said. “I will ask him, because I cannot bear that Margaret should be so unhappy.”

The Duke of York was in the company of a handsome woman but when he saw his daughter coming toward him he turned from her.

“Something is wrong, my dearest?” he said.

“Father, I wish to speak to you. Frances thinks you may be able to help us.”

James smiled at the young maid of honor whom he knew slightly, she curtsied and he led them out of the hall.

“Now, tell me what is wrong,” he said, when he had shut a door and they were in that anteroom which Frances and Mary had just left, and Mary explained how Margaret had been forced to act against her conscience and not only dance but borrow diamonds, one of which she had lost.

“And what sort of a diamond is this?” asked James.

“It is worth eighty pounds.”

James touched his daughter’s cheeks lightly with the tips of his fingers. “Well, sweetheart, that does not seem such a mighty sum. What if I promise to find a diamond to replace this one—that’s if it cannot be found.”

“You mean that you will give it to Margaret so that it need not be known that she has lost one?”

“If that would please you.”

“It pleases me very much.”

“Then so shall it be.”

Mary smiled shyly from her father to Frances Apsley. “This is a very happy night,” she said.

“That night,” wrote Mary to her new friend, “was the most important in my life because in it I met you.”

Everything had changed. Not only were she and her sister frequently at Court, not only were they present at Court functions, but Mary was soon deep in a new and exciting friendship.

Frances filled her thoughts; when she was with Frances that seemed to her the greatest happiness in the world. She adored Frances—the way she walked, talked, looked. Life was suddenly full of pleasure for she had a friend such as she had never had before; and the love she felt for her sister Anne was a mild affection compared with the passionate devotion Frances inspired.

Everyone at Court was ready to be charming to the Princess Mary. The King had no legitimate heirs and until the Duke of York produced a son, Mary could well be the future Queen: it was known that the King had a special interest in his nieces and that meant that all those who were ambitious should share this.

The girls remained at Richmond Palace under the care of Lady Frances Villiers, but Henry Compton, whom the King had appointed as Governor of their studies, did not greatly care whether they studied or not. Mary, who since the days when she had wished to please her father had developed an interest in knowledge, continued to work hard, but Anne rarely looked at her books.

“My head aches,” she would say. “And my eyes are watering.”

Anne’s eyes were her excuse to be lazy. But she was so good tempered that no one minded; and she continued to use her affliction whenever she wanted to escape from something which bored her. The new life suited her admirably. To be petted, to be continually given presents of sweetmeats (for her weakness was now becoming well known) to be often at Court, to spend her evenings with the cards, a dish of sweets beside her, to be constantly in the company of her dear friend Sarah and sister Mary, what more could she ask from life?

Mary might study French with Pierre de Laine until she became proficient. Anne would listen to her sister reading in that language and clap her plump hands.

“My darling sister, you are so clever. It does me good to hear you. I wish I were more like you.”

“You could learn as easily.”

Anne laughed. “Oh, it would strain my eyes. And I could never be as clever as you, my dearest.”

“You are lazy,” Mary would say in the indulgent voice she had used to her sister when they were children; and Anne would merely laugh.

“One clever daughter is enough for Papa.”

Sometimes Anne would attempt to draw, for she had a certain talent. The Princess’s drawing teacher, Mr. Gibson, who was a dwarf, did all he could to encourage her; and often she would sit with her sister lightly sketching. Mrs. Gibson helped her husband in teaching art for she too was an artist; and together these little people were one of the wonders of the Court for they had produced nine ordinary sized children. Gibson had belonged to Queen Henrietta-Maria before his marriage and was a specially privileged person in the household.

A pleasant life, made wonderful for Mary by this deep friendship. When she was at Richmond she constantly longed to be at St. James’s because Frances lived there with her parents Sir Allen and Lady Apsley. Their friendship was unusual, Frances had said, because she was so much older than the Princess; and this gave it a piquant flavor. Yet the difference in their ages seemed unimportant for Frances was as attracted by Mary as Mary was by Frances.

There was always so much to talk about; and to sit close beside Frances, holding her hand, seemed to Mary complete happiness. Mary realized that this was how she had wanted to love her father and perhaps Jemmy; but she never could because between them was the shadow of some shame, not quite understood but ever present. Lampoons had been written about them; they were untrustworthy because of this; they were in a sense shameful and could never enjoy a relationship of idealistic love such as that which existed between Frances and Mary.