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“But Mrs. Wise, I have heard of your prophecies. I want news of my father. I want to know if it is true that he has been killed. I want to know if he will return. I want to know what the future holds for me.”
“I will not read Your Majesty’s hand,” said the woman, “for I’d have naught good to tell you.”
“How can you know that until you tell my fortune?”
“The King was driven from his throne. I see nothing good for those who drove him away.”
Lady Derby whispered: “She is a well known Jacobite, Your Majesty.”
“And cares not who knows it,” added Mrs. Wise.
“Then read Her Majesty’s future. That is all she asks of you,” suggested one of the women.
But Mrs. Wise refused.
Mary, who admired the woman’s obvious loyalty to her father laughed lightly and said: “I see our visit is in vain. Come, let us look in at one of the curiosity shops. I hear they are worth a visit.”
So they left Mrs. Wise and went along to a notorious shop where extraordinary curiosities were sold; this was one of many which had sprung up since the Restoration. On the lower floor were the objects to be sold and upstairs were rooms where gallants could entertain ladies or vice versa. The laxity of morals which had become an accepted part of life after the years of Puritan rule had made these shops a commonplace; and the most notorious of them all was Mrs. Graden’s.
Here Mary was led and Mrs. Graden came out with great glee to welcome Her Majesty. It was rather pleasant to be so treated after the rudeness of Mrs. Wise; and when Mrs. Graden ordered her servants to prepare a supper and on her knees implored the Queen to partake of it, Mary agreed.
It was a merry little supper party with good food and music.
Mary felt soothed by the evening’s entertainment, particularly as, while not disobeying William, she had done something of which he would not approve.
That was the beginning of a new kind of entertainment.
The Queen’s visits to the bazaars pleased the people. They liked her to move among them, to show that although married to Dutch William, she was not like him.
Having visited Mrs. Graden’s, she must go to Mrs. Ferguson’s and to Mrs. De Vett’s; she would buy ribbons and headdresses and knickknacks which they had to sell. It was so good for business.
But it was not possible to please everyone, Mrs. Potter who had a house in Exeter Change wanted to know why the Queen did not come to her house. Being a garrulous woman she did not keep her observations to herself.
“Why am I not chosen?” she demanded one day as she stood at the door of her shop. “Is Mrs. Graden any better than I? Does she sell finer ribands? Do higher nobility entertain in her back rooms than in mine? I tell you this much. The Queen has more reason to come to me than to Mrs. Graden’s, because the plot to bring William and Mary to the throne and to send James off was hatched in my house.”
Lady Fitzharding who was buying silks for the Princess Anne at the time heard this tirade and went at once to her sister Elizabeth Villiers to report what was being said; and Elizabeth realized that it was a matter which should be passed at once to her lover.
When William heard he was furious. She had done this to defy him, of course. He had been pleased when she had refrained from visiting the playhouse, but he had not known then that she had committed the folly of visiting these low shops which were little more than bawdy houses. She might think little of that having been brought up in one of the most dissolute courts in Europe, with a reigning King who was not content with one—or even two—mistresses, but kept a dozen at a time. His Dutch soul was nauseated at the thought of those immoral houses; if he had his way, he would have them abolished. And to think that the Queen had been foolish enough to visit them was infuriating.
It was not enough to go to her and express his displeasure. He wanted the country to know that he deplored the existence of these places, so he waited until they were dining in public.
“I have heard,” he said, “that you make a custom of dining at houses of ill repute.”
Mary answered: “I have visited the houses of several women in The Hall.”
He knew that the name The Hall was applied to both Westminster Hall or Exeter Change where most of the bazaars of this kind were situated.
“It seems a strange choice of yours.”
“Do you think so? We found the visits amusing.”
He looked at her sardonically. “It is only proper,” he said, “that when you visit such places, I should accompany you.”
She hated to anger him and she knew that he was very angry, more so because he had chosen to reprove her in public. She knew why, of course. He would insist that she never went to such places again and he wanted everyone to know that it was his command and that she would obey it.
She said rather sullenly: “The last Queen visited these places.”
“I beg of you do not use her as an example,” retorted William sharply.
It was rare that he was so conversational at meals; usually he ate in silence, although Keppel had reported that when he was with his Dutch friends, drinking Holland gin, he talked often with abandon; and there was frequent laughter at the table.
This conversation was listened to eagerly. He talked of these places which in his opinion should not exist and expressed the view that it was strange indeed that the Queen should find pleasure in them.
Mary was ready to burst into tears, which always had come so readily to her.
She knew that William was very displeased and that this would be an end of her efforts to amuse herself in the gay old way.
She was right. Very soon she and William returned to Hampton Court; and there she was expected to live quietly, walking six or seven miles a day, planning the new building and gardens, praying a great deal, and sometimes listening to a little music while she played cards or knotted her fringe, a pastime which she had to take up since her eyes had become too weak for the fine needlework she had once so much enjoyed.
But for the pleasure of living closer to her husband, Hampton Court would have been dull after Whitehall. The news was neither good nor bad but remained undecisive; but at least at Hampton Mary was secure from criticism; there was less danger of hearing one of the scurrilous lampoons being sung; and since the night at the playhouse she had begun to listen for them.
Hampton was delightful in the summer and William was more healthy there; he could breathe more easily; and there was no doubt that he was delighted with the prospect of improving the place. This brought them closer together.
Mary had grown plumper since coming to England and her doctors had told her to take more exercise, so while she ate heartily of fattening foods, she attempted to lose weight by walking.
Often she would be seen stepping out with her women and since some of them came from Holland they liked to wear their native styles which caused some amusement among English spectators. To see Mary and her Dutch maids walking in the grounds at Hampton was one of the sights of the times. Mary would walk at some speed and the ladies would flutter after her and her favorite spot was the long walk close to the walls of the Palace. This became known as the Frow walk.
There were occasions when William would walk with her, discussing his plans for building and laying out the gardens; sometimes he even talked of state matters. She cherished these walks and was delighted to have his company, although he slowed her down by hanging on her arm and they made an incongruous pair—she so tall, fat, yet stately, he, small, pulling on her arm so that it seemed she almost had to drag him along while he wheezed uncomfortably, and she was always afraid that an attack of asthma was coming on.
One day he said to her: “Your sister will certainly soon be brought to bed.”
“I am expecting it in a week or so,” Mary answered.
“Then,” went on William, “as the child, if it lives, could be heir to the throne, it should be born under the roof we are occupying at the time. We should be present at the birth.”
“It is usual for the heirs to be born at St. James’s,” began Mary. “Perhaps we should go there.”
She thought of the feasting they would have if the child should live and prove healthy. A royal birth should be such a joyous occasion.
But William was frowning. “I do not wish to leave Hampton. The air suits me better than that of London—which I find most obnoxious.”
Mary looked contrite as though the contamination of the London air were due to some fault of hers.
“You should invite them to Hampton without delay,” commanded William. “The child must be born here.”
Toward the end of June Anne and George arrived at Hampton Court. Anne was so large that some anxiety was felt for her safety. But she herself was unperturbed. She had already given birth so many times that it seemed to be becoming less of an ordeal, and each time a natural optimism made her certain that the child would be a boy and that this one would live.
Sarah was with her, which did not please the Queen, but Mary was too kind to show her displeasure at such a time. Anne settled comfortably into her apartments and each day would sit and play cards with Sarah and Lady Fitzharding and others of her ladies, or gossip with them, and look out of the windows at the river or at Mary with her ladies in their Dutch costumes or at Mary herself, like a galleon in full sail with William hanging on to her like a fisherman’s barque, as Sarah said.
Anne indulged her fancies, usually for food; and whatever she asked for, Sarah managed to get for her. Mary came to see her and talked tenderly of her health, as though all enmity between them was forgotten.
The first weeks of July passed thus pleasantly and on the twenty-fourth of that month Anne’s pains started. Mary came into the apartment and said she would remain until the child was born. William and officials came too, but they retired after an hour or so, when the pains became more frequent.
After a three hour labor Anne’s child was born.
There was triumph in the lying-in chamber, for it was a boy.
Mary was almost as delighted as she would have been if the child were her own. She carried him about the apartment, marveling at him, while Anne lay back in bed smiling placidly.
Prince George could not suppress his delight. A son at last—and a son who looked as though he would live! He kept examining the baby’s hands and feet and murmuring “Est-il possible? Est-il possible?”
Even William expressed his approval.
Mary said to her husband: “I think he should be called William.”
Did Anne approve of the choice of name? Sarah was not in attendance at that moment and she smilingly agreed that she was happy in the choice.
He was to be baptized in the chapel and the King and Queen would proclaim him Duke of Gloucester without delay.
“I feel,” said Mary, “that he is my own little son.”
The sisters smiled at each other; it was as though all misunderstandings had been swept away by this child whom they both adored.
THE ARRIVAL OF MRS. PACK AND DEPARTURE OF WILLIAM
here was desperation at Hampton Court, for it appeared that little Gloucester, like his predecessors, was doomed to an early grave.
Mary and Anne would sit together by his cradle watching anxiously.
“Why is it?” cried Anne. “How can life be so cruel? Oh, Mary, I cannot bear it if he should die.”
Mary could not answer; she would burst into tears if she attempted to speak and she had to find some way of comforting poor Anne.
“I fancy he is a little better than he was yesterday.”
“Do you in truth, sister?”
“I feel it is so.”
But she did not; and they both knew she was saying it only to comfort.
Sarah was in the apartment, silently resenting the presence of the Queen. Anne had changed; she had forgotten the quarrels with her sister; and merely because the Queen could gurgle over the baby and prattle besottedly, she was ready to call her “dear sister” again. This state of affairs was not going to last, Sarah decided.
Meanwhile the baby did not thrive. He was pitiably thin, would take no nourishment, and lay silent in his cradle.
In the streets they said that it was due to a curse on ungrateful daughters. One was barren and the other, while constantly enduring the pain of childbirth, could only bear children who lived for a week or so.
They were waiting for the announcement of the death of the child.
One morning while Anne and Mary sat with the little boy, who looked more frail than ever, there were sounds of voices outside the apartment.
“I tell you, I will see the Princess.”
“You must ask first for an audience.”
“It is an urgent matter … a matter of life and death … for the baby.” The Queen had risen; so had Anne.
Mary threw open the door. “What is this …?” she began, and even as she spoke a big and buxom woman almost pushed her aside and came into the room.
“I wish to see the Princess Anne.”
“About my child …” began Anne.
The woman looked at her shrewdly and said: “You are she?” Then she strode to the cradle and looked at the child. “And this is the young Prince?”
Mary was beside her. “Who are you and what do you want here?”
“I am a mother,” answered the woman, “and I have never lost a child. I have enough milk in my breasts to feed two, and I have only one. I can save that child.”
The Queen and the Princess exchanged glances.
“How can you be sure?” asked Mary.
“I will answer to the child’s mother and no other.”
“You are speaking to the Queen,” Anne told her.
“Well, Madam,” said the woman, “I am Mrs. Pack—a Quaker woman—and I come to tell you that this child is dying through lack of good milk, of which I have plenty.”
The disturbance had brought Prince George into the room. He was pale through lack of sleep for he, with Anne, had been awake for almost the whole of the night watching the baby from time to time and discussing what they might do to save its life.
He looked at the woman, at her pink healthy face and full breasts.
He murmured: “Est-il possible?”
His eyes had begun to shine with tears as he put his arm about his wife. “We cannot afford to miss an opportunity, my dear,” he murmured.
“Pick up the child,” said Anne, “and see if he will take nourishment from you.”
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.
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