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

So Mrs. Pack took the Prince in firm yet gentle hands and he did not whimper as he had when other nurses had handled him. She sat on a stool which George had placed for her and undoing her blouse placed the child’s lips to her breast.

For a second he whimpered; then he was sucking.

Anne had turned to George who put his arms about her. Mary was weeping silently. Perhaps it was not too late.

At last there was hope.

Mrs. Pack, the Quakeress, had saved the baby’s life. He was now taking nourishment regularly and screaming if he did not get it on time.

Anne was delighted; George would gloat over the baby and remind people of how he had looked a little while ago. “Est-il possible?” they would ask him smiling and he would smile with them for he did not know that he was nicknamed “Old Est-il possible.”

Mary was so happy, for she told Anne that she looked upon the baby as her adopted son; and Anne at this time was ready to share him. It was so pleasant to be on easy terms with Mary. She even found William tolerable.

As for Mrs. Pack, she was to be treated like a Queen. Nothing anyone could do would be too much for her. The Queen and the Princess could not express their gratitude sufficiently and declared they would never forget what they owed the young Quakeress.

Mrs. Pack cared nothing for rank and she deemed the baby the only person of importance in the nursery; therefore his nurse came before any lady-in-waiting.

It seemed as though there would be trouble when she ordered Sarah away from the baby’s cradle.

“If I wish to take up the baby, I shall,” said Sarah, her eyes glinting.

“You’ll do no such thing,” declared Mrs. Pack. “I think, nurse, you forget yourself.”

“It’s you who are forgetting that that child is in my charge and in my charge he shall remain.”

“My good woman, because you have fed the Duke of Gloucester you imagine yourself of some importance at Court.”

“Since what they wanted was this child’s life and I gave it to them, my good woman, I am of some importance at Court.”

“Insolence!” cried Sarah.

“You can use your tongue the way you fancy, but keep your hands off my baby.”

“I shall report your conduct to the Princess.”

“Do what you like; it means nothing to me.”

Sarah looked down at the baby and for a moment it seemed as though the two women were going to have a tussle over him. Sarah thought better of that and instead went to find Anne.

“Mrs. Morley,” she cried, “that nurse is an intolerable creature.”

“You mean our good Mrs. Pack?”

“Good Mrs. Pack! I verily believe she imagines herself worthy to be crowned because she happens to feed the Duke of Gloucester.”

“I can never be grateful enough to her; nor can Mr. Morley. He was recalling only the other night how sickly our little darling was and saying …”

“Est-il possible? I know. But really she is nothing but a wet nurse. We could have found one of those at any time.”

“But we couldn’t. We tried nurses and none was any good until Mrs. Pack came.”

“The Prince will soon be old enough to do without her.”

“Mr. Morley and I should be afraid to let her go. We feel she is a sort of talisman.”

“She has been very insolent to me.”

“To my dear Mrs. Freeman? Oh, I am sorry. But remember, she is not exactly a well-bred lady. She is brusque with the Queen who forgives her all because of what she has done for our little darling. And to me also … and to Mr. Morley.”

“I find it not easy to forgive slights to my dear Mrs. Morley.”

Anne smiled. “Have one of these sweetmeats, dear Mrs. Freeman. They are especially sweet. I must send for some more. Now sit down and forget about Mrs. Pack. Tell me something interesting.”

So she was weary of accusations against that woman. In fact she was on that woman’s side … against Sarah.

And what could Sarah do about it? It was clear that however much she schemed against Mrs. Pack she would never get her removed because the Queen and Anne believed that the child still needed her.

Sarah Churchill, Countess of Marlborough, insulted by a wet nurse!

And that was not all. The sisters were together again. “Dear Anne, how is my little darling today? I could not rest until I had seen him.”

“Dear Mary, I am sure he knows you. See how he is smiling?”

Bah!

“Now that you have given them the heir to the throne your allowance should be increased,” said Sarah firmly.

“Oh?” murmured Anne.

“It is disgraceful. Here you are at Hampton—dependent on the King and Queen. Should you not have your own establishment? Yet you are asked to live on a pitiable sum.”

Anne was not listening; she was dreamily reaching for one of the sweetmeats and thinking of going into the nursery and wondering if Mrs. Pack would allow her to hold the Duke of Gloucester for half an hour.

Sarah ground her teeth in anger.

One must be patient, she supposed, but it should not go on.

Because her child was thriving Anne was happy; all she wanted was to talk of him. She and Sarah would chat together of Sarah’s children and they decided that when the little Duke of Gloucester was older, Sarah’s son John should be his companion. But Sarah continued to talk of Anne’s wrongs and persuaded her that something should be done to right them; consequently with Anne’s permission Sarah sounded certain ministers as to methods of increasing Anne’s allowance.

When William discovered this he discussed it angrily with the Queen, and Mary went to see her sister to reproach her with her duplicity.

“And I thought that we had become good friends again,” complained Mary.

“So did I,” replied Anne.

“And all the time you were going behind our backs … trying to get more money. Don’t you realize how generously you have been treated?”

“There is my son now …” pointed out Anne.

“Anne, there is a war in Ireland which is draining our resources.”

Anne wiped a tear from her eyes. “A war against our own father,” she said.

“This is not the time to go into all that. You must be sensible. We are all together on one side.…”

Anne knew vaguely that that was just what Sarah did not want. Anne was not on their side; neither was she on her father’s; she was somewhere in between—ready to jump either way, depending on what happened.

“I think I should have the money,” she said.

“You are … stupid!” cried Mary.

And she left her.

Sarah who had been listening came into the room.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Morley. You dealt admirably with Mrs. Dutch Abortion.”

“Oh, Sarah, you’ll be the death of me. What a name for her.”

“I do not think we should stay here at Hampton Court,” went on Sarah. “The Duke of Gloucester, as heir to the throne, should have his own establishment. I was speaking to Lord Craven and he would be delighted to lend his house at Kensington Gravel Pits. It would make an excellent nursery for the Prince because it is a very fine house.”

“I must see Lord Craven at once.”

“I fancy Mrs. D-A will not be very pleased to have her little darling taken from her, but people who will not oblige us cannot expect to be obliged.”

Very shortly afterward the little Duke of Gloucester was set up in his nursery at Kensington Gravel Pits.

While Mary had been worrying about the health of her little nephew and rejoicing at Mrs. Pack’s success with him it had been becoming obvious that the conflict between the reigning sovereign and the Jacobites was not going to be easily settled.

The Battle of Bantry Bay had been fought against the French who were supporting the Jacobites and the result had been defeat for the British fleet.

Clarendon had come to William and Mary and begged to be allowed to go to Ireland where he believed he could be of service to them, but Anne had so poisoned her sister’s mind against their uncle in her letters that both William and Mary failed to see that the very fact that he had supported James pointed to his loyalty, and regarded him with suspicion.

Clarendon’s great desire was to save the Protestant community in Ireland who were in danger of elimination, and much as he disliked William, much as he abhorred the manner in which he—and he blamed him rather than his niece Mary—had treated James, he believed that this was not the time for partisanship. Peace in Ireland was necessary and he was sure that he, as a former Lord Lieutenant, could persuade the present Lord Lieutenant, Lord Tyrconnel, to declare for William.

But William and Mary turned their backs on him and looked about for some other ambassador whom they could trust. They favored Count Hamilton and when John Temple—son of Sir William—who had been made Secretary of War, recommended that Hamilton should be sent to Ireland, he was given the commission instead of Clarendon.

Hamilton was the brother of Frances Jennings’s first husband, and Tyrconnel was now that lady’s husband; so that the relationship should, it seemed, prove helpful.

The result however turned out to be disastrous, for Hamilton persuaded Tyrconnel to stand firm for James. They had sent the wrong man, but it was too late to alter that now.

The situation in Ireland was worsening; John Temple, having made such an error of judgment in advising the sending of Hamilton, filled his pockets with stones and jumped into the Thames near London Bridge. There was great public interest when his body was found and the reason known.

“We have nothing but ill luck,” said the people. “This is the curse of a father on his ungrateful daughter.”

“There is only one thing to be done,” said William. “I myself must go to Ireland.”

The little Duke of Gloucester, although frail, continued to survive. Crowds collected to see him taken out each day in his tiny carriage which had been made especially for him. Four of the smallest horses ever seen had been chosen to draw it; and Prince George’s coachman held the reins and drew it along. There were cheers as the baby with his little retinue passed by; and no matter how cold the weather he always went out. Mrs. Pack had brought her children up to face all weathers, so little Gloucester must do the same.

No matter what criticism was thrown at the King and Queen, and even the Princess Anne, royal babies were always assured of public acclaim; and this little one who had survived when so many of his brothers and sisters had failed to get a grasp on life was regarded as something of a phenomenon.

He was a good baby, rather solemn but very interested in everything and at an early age his eyes would light up at the sight of soldiers.

The Queen sent eager inquiries as to his health and there were presents too. Even William was interested in his progress. As for George and Anne they could think of nothing else; and Anne deserted even Sarah that she might be with the baby and marvel at his intelligence.

It was all most irritating to Sarah, and as Marlborough was away she could confide her rage to no one.

This, she thought, is the biggest trial of patience I was ever called upon to endure.

But it would not last. Soon the arrogant Pack would be told to do what her name implied and get out of Court. When she was no use she would soon be forgotten, and Sarah would come into her kingdom once more, ruler supreme of the Princess Anne’s household.

Mary was desolate. The thought of William’s going away terrified her. She was obsessed by the fear that her father and husband would meet and that one would kill the other.

He talked to her of his plans as they walked about the gardens of Hampton Court. He had bought the Earl of Nottingham’s house in Kensington and planned to build a palace there. It seemed astonishing to some that while he was so anxiously thinking of the war he must carry on in Ireland he could at the same time be planning Kensington Palace, but Mary understood that building was his hobby and relaxation and while in his mind he planned the apartments of Kensington Palace and the gardens he would have, he was giving his mind that rest which it needed if he were to succeed in the difficult tasks which lay ahead.

While he was away, the government of the country would be in her hands, he reminded her grimly.

“Oh, William, how can I govern without you?”

“It is something you will have to learn. If you have doubts of yourself the people have none. They have shown clearly that they prefer you to me.”

“Only because of their ignorance, dear William. Oh, this is a great tragedy. To be left here alone … unable to ask your help!”

“You are a Queen and must perforce shoulder your burdens.”

“If you could but stay at home …”

“I have stayed too long. Think of Bantry Bay. Of Hamilton and Tyrconnel. Who knows what next.”

She thought sadly of the days ahead when she would not have him beside her. Those who saw them smiled at the picture they made. She so large; he so small; and they quoted the lines which had caused so much amusement throughout the country.

Man and wife are all in one, in flesh and in bone,

From hence you may guess what they mean.

The Queen drinks chocolate to make the King fat

And the King hunts to make the Queen lean.

Neither of them knew what was written of them; and if they had they would not greatly have cared.

William saw himself as a great hero, and Mary saw through his eyes.

And all she could think of at this time was that soon she would have to be without him; and he could only turn over in his mind whether it was wiser for him to stay in England than to go to Ireland and settle the Jacobites once and for all. It must be done, he was sure of that; but to do so he must leave the reins of government in the plump white hands of his wife.

How would she fare without him? And even if he settled affairs in Ireland, what would happen in England during his absence?

Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury, that staunch supporter of William and Mary who had enjoyed their hospitality in Holland before they had come to England and had so often given them the benefit of his wisdom, now called on the King and Queen.

The interview was for the three of them alone and as Mary greeted him there were tears in her eyes for the occasion recalled those happy ones in Holland when she and Burnet had chatted together, while she knotted her fringe close to the candles the better to see, and William sat a little apart listening to their conversation. Such happy days! thought Mary. Never perhaps to be equaled, for in those days her father had been King of England and although they had talked of deposing him, until the deed was accomplished the guilt did not have to be so acutely suffered.