Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II - Plaidy

“It is not for me to say.”

Clarendon flushed. “As the King’s daughter does Your Highness not consider it is your place to help him?”

“I have never discussed such things with the King,” Anne reiterated coolly. She lifted the watch—which was as large as a clock and which hung at her side. “Why I do declare,” she went on, “it is time to prepare for worship and I must not be late for that.”

Lord Clarendon saw that he was dismissed. He could see, too, that Anne would not help her father; in fact he was not at all sure that she was not secretly pleased that the King’s difficulties were becoming more acute.

Then, thought Clarendon, the rumors I have heard about the treachery in the Cockpit are true.

Clarendon discussed that interview with his brother Laurence.

“The terrible part of it all was that she did not seem to care!” he complained.

“But, brother, have you not heard that many of the evil rumors about the Prince’s birth actually started at the Cockpit?”

“I cannot believe it.”

“Our niece may not possess a brilliant mind but she has a flaming ambition.”

“You think that she wants him … deposed. Oh, I can’t believe that any daughter would be so ungrateful; and he has been good to her.”

“He wears a crown, brother. She covets a crown.”

“But it will not come to her.”

“After Mary it will.”

“I won’t believe it. I won’t. I shall call on her again. I shall try to make her see that she must help her father, because he seems incapable of helping himself.”

“It is what King Charles always feared.”

“But who would have believed it would ever have come to this! He should be rallying the country. He should reform his ways.”

“He has released the bishops.”

“It is not enough. He must let the people know that he will not attempt to foist Catholicism on them. He must gather his faithful friends and prepare for battle. Anne could persuade him I am sure. He would listen to her. You know how he dotes on her since Mary has been under the thumb of Orange. I shall go to her.”

He did; and found her with Sarah, Lady Fitzharding, and others of her ladies.

She received him somewhat insolently and would not dismiss her women, who were dressing her. She smiled at him rather maliciously in the mirror and he thought that she took courage from these women about her. “I know what you have come to speak of, my lord,” she said. “This baby whose entrance into the world … or should I say the Queen’s bed … is causing such a stir.”

“They are saying warming-pans are very commodious these days.” That was Sarah Churchill. An odious woman and an evil influence on the Princess, thought Clarendon.

“Yet it does not need a great deal of space to carry hot coals,” added Lady Fitzharding.

Spy! thought Clarendon. Sister of the woman whom everyone knew was the mistress of Orange. What a strange pair these sisters were! There was Mary, heiress to the throne of England, meekly adoring a husband who treated her harshly; and, Anne her sister, surrounding herself with women for whom she seemed to have more regard than for her own father!

“I do not think, my lord,” retorted Anne, “that you are aware of what the people are saying. It was most unhelpful that those who should have been present at the birth were not there.”

“All those who wished to attend were invited to do so, Your Highness.”

“I was saying that it was unfortunate it should happen when those who should have been present were prevented from being there … and I know that before the birth at Her Majesty’s toilet she would go into her private closet and put on her chemise … so that those whose duty it was to look on her belly were unable to do so.”

The women were tittering; Sarah Churchill laughed out loud.

It was a scene from which Lord Clarendon felt he must escape at once.

He took his leave and went to the King. He could not tell him exactly what had happened for James would not believe him and would be furious, not with Anne, but with him; so he said that he believed that people were endeavoring to poison the Princess Anne’s mind and attempting to make her accept this absurd story of the baby in the warming-pan.

James sent the entire Privy Council to his daughter with an account of what happened at the birth of the Prince.

“This is not necessary,” said Anne, “for I have so much duty to the King that his word is more to me than these depositions.”

Clarendon heard this and was glad of the reply for the King’s sake.

But he was very uneasy and he did not trust his niece.

James was truly alarmed now. He sought to modify his policies but it was too late, for the whole of Protestant England was looking to Holland. Then James made another of his mistakes when he attempted to strengthen his army by bringing in Catholics from Ireland.

The English soldiers sullenly discussed those Irish who had been brought in to fight beside them—the Irish who some forty years before in Cromwell’s day had cried Lilliburlero while they slaughtered the Protestants.

To Purcell’s music words were written and the army began to sing a new song to the old tune and the words inflamed not only the soldiers but the people.

Throughout England that tense autumn it seemed that everyone was singing Lilliburlero, singing it with fervor and indignation.

William set out from Holland, his fleet was scattered by bad weather and he had to return to his own country; but this was only a temporary respite. The next time William made the attempt he reached Torbay in safety; and when the people saw the Orange flags with the motto “Protestant Religion and Liberty,” they welcomed William and drank to his success.

It was the 5th of November. A significant day because this was the anniversary of the Catholic plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament.

James now realized the need for action and marched west with his army. John Churchill was one of his leading generals, but Churchill had his own ideas as to what would be the outcome of the battle. As he saw it, there could be victory for either side; but Churchill was a Protestant; he was also an extremely ambitious man; Sarah and he were pledged to Anne and if James were the victor, then the Prince of Wales would follow him.

So here was Churchill, the King’s general, secretly hoping the King’s enemy would be victorious; and if the King was defeated those who had served him could not expect favors from the new King and Queen. Exile would more likely be their lot.

Churchill was a brilliant soldier; but there was one cause for which he would always fight—the cause of the Churchills.

Churchill left the King at Salisbury and joined William at Axminster. Prince George followed him.

When James heard the news, he knew that he was defeated.

John’s great concern was for Sarah who, at the Cockpit, would be in danger. As soon as he reached Axminster he sent a message telling her she must make her escape from London for he was certain orders would be given for her arrest.

When Sarah heard this news she sprang into action.

“We are in danger,” she told Anne. “William is going to be victorious, for Mr. Freeman and Mr. Morley are now with him, and we are both in danger of arrest.”

“What can we do?” cried Anne.

“There is no need for you to be afraid, dear Mrs. Morley. I will arrange everything. You must tell no one, though. This must be our secret. But we must escape from the Cockpit before our enemies can make us their prisoners.”

Anne nodded, but she was a little disturbed. It had been so much more fun to gossip about plots and intrigues than to be caught up in them; but Sarah was at her best on occasions like this.

“Not a word to Danvers, or your old nurse Buss,” warned Sarah. “Fitzharding will come with us. We can trust her because she is an Orange woman since her sister is Caliban’s mistress.”

“Sometimes,” said Anne apprehensively, “I do not think we are going to like Caliban as much as my father.”

“It will be your sister who is the Sovereign. Caliban is only her consort and we must remember that this is a religious cause and however hateful the Dutch Monster is, he is a Protestant.”

“Yes, I understand,” agreed Anne.

“You’ll see now,” went on Sarah, “how wise I was to have our private stairway made. We can use it and very few people know of its existence.”

“Oh, Sarah, you are clever! Had you something like this in mind when you had the staircase made?”

“I have always something like this in mind. As you know, my dear Mrs. Morley’s safety is always my first concern.”

Sarah did not think it necessary to point out that Anne was not in any danger for James would never allow his daughter to be harmed and this elaborate escape was for Sarah’s benefit.

But where Sarah was, Anne wanted to be, and she found herself caught up in the excitement.

Sarah’s eyes were brilliant with excitement. This was adventure such as she loved; and after it she and Anne were going to be closer than ever. She was certain of William’s victory for now he would have John on his side and they could not fail. This was going to be the end of Catholic James and his son; it would be William and Mary and afterward … Anne. And Anne meant Sarah. What a future would be hers as uncrowned Queen! The Kings of France were ruled by their mistresses, so shouldn’t Anne be ruled by Sarah? There should be no one in Anne’s life to compare with Sarah. Sarah had at times been a little anxious about the devotion between Anne and her husband. But George was a bore and Anne’s nature was to be more fond of her own sex than the opposite. She had married and as soon as she had borne one child—which unfortunately did not live—she was pregnant with another, and this order of things was becoming an expected pattern; not once during her married life had Anne looked at another man. There had been the abortive affair with Mulgrave, but that, Sarah told herself, had been Anne’s desire not so much for a man but to imitate her friend who was happily married. Anne was placid, accepting life as it came. She had married because that was expected of her; she loved her husband because it was impossible to dislike him; she lived a normal married life because it was planned for her. Had she made her own way it would have been to women she turned.

Sarah had no such love for her own sex. Sarah loved herself and her husband and children, and her love was the sort which expressed itself, not in tenderness or unselfish devotion but in getting the best in life for them all.

Sarah saw herself the strong and dominant figure with complete understanding of Anne who could not understand herself.

The plot was laid. Anne was to go to her chamber assisted by Mrs. Danvers and Mrs. Buss and afterward when she was alone Sarah would creep up the private stairway and help her dress; then they would join Lady Fitzharding by the same staircase and escape.

Anne could hear the rain beating against the windows of the Cockpit. It was a wild night, a night of adventure. She was trying to appear normal but she was very anxious; Mr. Freeman had gone over to William; so had Mr. Morley; and of course they had not gone alone but taken their men with them. The country was rising against her father; and she, lying comfortably on her couch, munching her sweetmeats, had helped to bring about this situation.

Of course he was a Catholic. He had imprisoned the Bishops which was a wicked thing to do; he had tried to force Catholicism on a country which did not want it; he had led a scandalous life—as scandalous as his brother Charles’s. Charles had loved beautiful and attractive women; James had seemed to choose the most unattractive. Charles had once said that James, in spite of being so devout, loved women even more than he did, but chose such women as his priests might have provided for his penances. Now he had a Queen who was a beautiful creature but he preferred plain Catherine Sedley and others. He was a most immoral man, Anne assured herself. Yet at the same time she did not wish to face him when he came back to London. He would know, of course, that she was with his enemies. There came a time when it was impossible not to show which side one was on; and for that reason she did not want to see him again because she would never be able to look him in the face.

All this she was thinking while she listened to the rain and thought of escape. All would be well because Sarah had planned it. Sarah would see that nothing went wrong.

All the same it was very difficult to hide how excited she was from Danvers and Buss.

Mrs. Buss, who had been her nurse as a child and regarded herself as a specially privileged person came bustling in.

“Oh, my dear Madam! Sitting by the window in the cold … and no shawl about your shoulders!”

“I’m not cold, Buss.”

“Not cold indeed! Why I saw you shiver.”

“Buss, I am not your baby now, you know.”

“You will always be my baby.”

“Buss, I should like to get to bed quickly. I am rather tired.”

“Come then, Madam dear. Let Buss take off your shoes. Danvers, Her Highness is tired. Has the bed been warmed?”

They fussed about her, divesting her of clothes which she would have to put on again. But Sarah would help her dress. It was all set for one o’clock, and it was not yet midnight, so there was plenty of time.

When they had covered her up she said: “Draw the curtains. I am tired.”

They obeyed and soon she was alone, lying there, awaiting the summons from Sarah.

At the appointed time the bed curtains parted and there was Sarah with her clothes. Hurriedly she dressed, and taking Sarah’s hand went to Sarah’s apartment by way of the secret stair so that Danvers and Buss sleeping in the anteroom did not hear them leave.

In a short time they were at the door of the Cockpit.

“Your Highness.” It was Lord Dorset whom Sarah had commissioned to conduct them to the hackney coach which Henry Compton, the ex-Bishop of London would have waiting for them. Compton had been the governor of the Princesses Mary and Anne in their childhood and had been chosen by King Charles when his brother was becoming so unpopular that it had been necessary to take his children’s education out of his hands. Compton had fallen out of favor with James when he came to the throne and lost his offices, for the Bishop was a sturdy Protestant, but he had kept in touch with his old pupil and heartily approved of her attitude toward her father.

Sarah said: “What a night! Let us make for the coach with all speed, my lord.”

“It means crossing the park,” Dorset replied.

Sarah made an impatient noise with her lips and Dorset turned away from her to offer his arm to the Princess.

“If Your Highness will honor me …”

Anne took his arm, hoping that he had, as she heard, reformed his ways. It was true he was no longer a young man; he had been a great favorite of King Charles, for in his youth he had been one of the wits of the Court; he had taken part in many disgraceful scenes which some members of Charles’s Court had seen fit to call frolics, but that was long ago in his wild youth and he must be fifty now. James had always disliked him and Dorset was not one to curb his exuberance to seek favor; he had written satires about Catherine Sedley; and when the Bishops had been imprisoned had openly declared his sympathy with them. This had necessitated his retirement from Court. So both Compton and Dorset were her father’s enemies.