The Three Crowns epub (34 page)

William did not smile. He knew that they would attempt to make fun of him as they had before; he had always suspected that Charles had played a part in the maids of honor episode.

“I shall be delighted to meet her.”

“And in the meantime, my dear nephew, we will discuss less agreeable matters. We will save the tasty tidbit until the last which I believe is a very good habit. There are the peace terms which I suppose we should consider of the utmost importance. We will go into council here at Newmarket, and then it may be that there will be two great events to be celebrated.”

William’s lips were tight as he said: “Your Majesty, I could only discuss the terms of peace after the Princess Mary was affianced to me.”

“Oh come, nephew—business before pleasure you know.”

“I can do no more than explain to Your Majesty my intentions.”

Charles showed no sign of annoyance.

“What did I say,” he appealed to his friends. “Here we see the eager lover.”

The Lady Frances
Villiers sent for the Princess Mary. She was fond of the Princess and yet relieved that very soon she would not be in charge of her. Mary had always been eager to please and gave little trouble; her passionate friendship with Frances Apsley was the only real anxiety she had felt on her behalf; and now there would be no need to worry about that.

“My lady,” said Lady Frances, “your cousin, the Prince of Orange, has come to Court and His Majesty is anxious for you and your sister to be presented to him.”

“I heard that he was in England,” replied Mary lightly. She was wondering whether Sarah Jennings would show her a new seal she had. It would be amusing to use it for her letter to Frances.

“Tomorrow you and your sister will be presented. The King and your father wish him to find you agreeable.”

Mary wrinkled her brows. “I have heard that he himself is not always considered so.”

“Who said this to you?”

Mary lifted her shoulders; she would be careful not to betray the offender. Lady Frances, who knew her well, was also aware that Mary had no realization of the reason behind her cousin’s visit.

Poor child, thought Lady Frances. She will have a great shock, I fear.

Mary was pleasant enough to look at, thought Lady Frances. She was trying to see the child with the eyes of a stranger and a would-be lover at that. She would most surely please him. Her complexion was unusually good; her nose well proportioned and her almond-shaped eyes really beautiful. She scarcely looked marriageable; but she had always seemed young for her years—and in any case she was only fifteen.

While Lady Frances scrutinized her charge Mary was looking anxiously at her governess.

“You are pale, Lady Frances,” she said. “Have you one of your headaches?”

Lady Frances put a hand to her brow and confessed that she had been feeling unwell for the last few days.

“You must go and lie down.”

Lady Frances shook her head. “And you must tell the Princess Anne of the appointment for tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes,” replied Mary, “I shall not forget.”

Face to face
with William she thought that the stories she had heard about him might well be true. He looked as though he rarely smiled.

“Welcome to England, cousin,” she said; for the King and her father seemed to wish that she be the one to talk to him.

He inclined his head and she asked him how he liked England.

He liked it well enough, he answered.

What a dour creature he was. She would remember this conversation and report it all in her next letter to Frances. Better still keep it until they met. She smiled as she visualized that meeting.

“Very different, I’ll swear, from your Court at The Hague.”

“Two Courts could hardly be expected to be the same.”

She was thinking: But, Frances, it was so difficult to talk to him. He makes no attempt to carry on the conversation at all … and it simply dies out. I had to keep thinking of fresh subjects.

“Do you … dance much at The Hague?”

“Very little.”

“I love to dance. I love playacting too. Jemmy … the Duke of Monmouth, excels at it all … dancing, playacting …”

“Is that all he excels at?”

Flushing, suddenly remembering Jemmy with Henrietta Wentworth and Eleanor Needham, she did not answer the question but said, “Pray tell me about Holland.”

That forced him to talk and he did so briefly. It sounded a dull place to Mary; she was watching Anne, who was with their father, out of the corner of her eye, while she longed to be rescued from William who was so dull.

She was pleased when it was over and she could escape.

William was pleased too. She had perhaps been brought up to be too frivolous, but that was something he would soon remedy.

She was not without beauty; she was young, very young, and he believed that he could mold her into the wife he wanted.

James and Charles
were well aware of the impression Mary had made on her cousin. William was eager for the marriage, and Charles delivered his ultimatum: Peace terms agreed on first and after that the marriage should be discussed.

William had betrayed his desire for the marriage and his uncles might use his eagerness to their own good and the detriment of Holland. That must never be. The marriage contract must be settled first so that he might not be forced into accepting disadvantageous terms in order to secure it.

William now stood firm. The contract must be completed
before
the peace terms were discussed.

James was angry; Danby was terrified; and Charles lifted his shoulders in a significant gesture. Orange was not the most charming of men; tact was a quality which had not been bestowed upon him; but, God’s fish, the marriage was important. Charles was never a man to cling to his dignity when he found it expedient to dispense with it.

“Our lover shall have his bride,” he declared. “It shall be as he wishes. Wedding first; business after.” He turned to his brother and momentarily his eyes were sad. “Now, James,” he went on, “there can be no further delay in breaking the news to Mary. You’re the man to do that.”

Mary started at
her father. She could not believe she was hearing him correctly.

Marriage! But she did not want marriage. All she wanted was to go on as she was now. Marriage was something she had never considered seriously because she found the subject distasteful. Married people were rarely happy. She knew how her uncle the King deceived the Queen again and again and she was aware of the Queen’s unhappiness. She remembered the quarrels between her father and her mother; and even now that he was married to the beautiful Mary Beatrice he was not faithful to her. Mary Beatrice wept often because she was so hurt by his infidelities.

And now it was her turn! And the husband they had chosen for her was that little man, her cousin William, who looked as though he had never learned how to laugh. If she had to marry he was the last husband she would want.

“So you see, my dearest,” James was saying, “you are no longer a child and it is time you married.”

“I do not wish to marry.”

“That is often the case, but when you are married you will be content.”

“I never shall. I never shall.”

“Now, Mary.”

She turned away from him for the tears were already on her cheeks.

“Please, Mary, you must be sensible. This is difficult I know. You have had such a happy time and perhaps some would say have been a little spoilt … but now you must realize your duty. You see, my dear, you are in a position of great importance …”

She was not listening. Marry Orange. Go to bed with Orange. It was shocking. It was distasteful. She hated it.

Then another thought struck her. He did not live in England. He had a kingdom over the seas. So she would not only have to endure him, but she would leave home. Leave her dearest Frances … Frances, her true husband! She would leave Anne, her sister, from whom she had never been separated in the whole of her life. How could she be happy without Anne to scold, to laugh at, to play with. She could not endure it; she
would
not endure it.

She flung herself at her father and began to sob wildly.

“Father, do not make me leave home. Do not make me marry. Let me stay at home. I cannot bear to go away.”

James stroked her hair and tried to comfort her.

“Oh, my dearest, alas that this should be.”

The Princess Mary
was inconsolable.

The Queen came to her to try to comfort her, but Mary would not be comforted.

“It happens to us all, my dear,” said Catherine. “I came to England to marry the King.”

“The King is not like Orange.”

Catherine had to admit that. Charles was the most charming man in the world and she loved him dearly; in spite of his constant infidelities she considered him a good husband for he never spoke an unkind word to her and all she had to suffer was his neglect and the pain which his preference for other women gave her.

“You will feel better later,” Catherine assured her. “It is the first shock.”

Her stepmother, heavily pregnant, also tried to reassure her.

“When I came here I was your age. I hated your father and now I love him dearly.”

“But this is Orange,” persisted Mary. “He is not like my father.”

“Yet you will come to love him. You must because he will be your husband.”

They could not understand. It was not only that they had given her this most unattractive man; it was the contemplation of marriage itself.

Her sister Anne was moved out of her usual placidity.

She came running to her sister, her face puckered in distress.

“Mary, they are saying that you will go away.”