Anne stood at the window watching the snowflakes falling. She was not weeping; but her limbs felt heavy. She had lost her baby—little Mary was desperately ill and her dear George was sick with a fever.

It was Sarah who came to stand beside her, miraculousy silent for once, but conveying so much by that silence.

“How can I tell him, Sarah?” she asked.

Sarah took her hand and pressed it firmly and it seemed to Anne that Sarah’s strength and vitality flowed into her body.

“No matter what happens … there will always be you. You’ll never change.” She added: “Mrs. Freeman.”

“Mrs. Freeman will always be at hand to comfort her dear friend Mrs. Morley.”

One of the women approached them.

Anne took one look at her and flew to the bedside of her daughter Mary.

It was incredible; fate could not be so cruel. But it was so. Anne had lost both her children.

Strangely enough from that day George began to improve.

They said that he saw he was needed to comfort his heartbroken wife. She would sit by his bed and hold his hand; and they often wept quietly together.

He told her that he had known all the time that she had been in the sickroom, and it was that knowledge and that alone, which had pulled him through.

“I cannot bear to see you unhappy,” he said.

“And it grieves me to see you sad.”

“Then, my dear wife, we must smile for the sake of each other.”

He was growing better every day. This was clear for when Anne brought delicacies to his bedside his eyes lit up at the sight of them.

“Try this, my love,” she would say.

And he would take a tidbit and put it into her mouth instead.

They would sample the food, discuss it; and talk of what they would eat tomorrow.

It was a return to the old life.

“Do not fret,” he said. “We have lost three but we shall have others.”

And as soon as the Prince was about again sure enough Anne became pregnant; and she was sure that if she could only hold a healthy child in her arms she would be ready to forget the anguish of her previous loss.

Anne miscarried, but almost immediately she was again with child.

Sarah was supreme in the Princess’s household. She was getting her own way in almost everything, but there were minor irritations. She was shaping Anne’s mind and was determined that Mansell and Mansell’s wife should go. She was aware that secret intrigues were afoot; that spies were both at Whitehall and The Hague and that William of Orange—and Mary—were waiting for the opportunity to come over to England and take the crown from James. This was what Sarah hoped for. She did not believe that Mary would live long; William, too, was a weakling and there were no children of that marriage. It need only be a few years before the Princess Anne became Queen Anne.

Mrs. Morley, the Queen and her dear friend Mrs. Freeman to guide her in all things! What a happy state of affairs! And she and John were becoming rich. It was so easy, for everyone knew of Sarah’s influence and she was approached by many who sought to find favor with the King through his beloved daughter. There were financial considerations but these were willingly paid for a word of the right sort of advice dropped into the Princess’s ear by her loving friend.

“Very good, but it could be better,” was Sarah’s verdict to John. “If only I could rid myself of old woman Clarendon, I should be the first Lady of the Bedchamber. Of course I have more influence with Morley than anyone else, but always that old woman bars my way, reminding me of who she is. Clarendon! Who were the Clarendons? The upstart Hydes, that’s all—the family which gave itself airs because one of the daughters was made pregnant by the heir to the throne and was clever enough to make him marry her. That’s the Clarendons for you!”

John replied it was all true of course, but she must be careful of the Clarendons. The Princess’s two uncles held much influence with the King, and his dear Sarah must not forget that.

“I’ll give the old hag influence!” muttered Sarah.

She did not have to scheme against Lady Clarendon because at this time Lord Clarendon became Lord Lieutenant of Ireland—there was general gossip about this in the Cockpit.

“What I want to know,” said Sarah, “is whether he’s taking her with him—or is he going to think of some excuse to leave her behind.”

Lady Clarendon herself answered the question a few hours later.

“I shall have to say good-bye to you all for I am accompanying my husband to Ireland.”

Sarah gave a great sigh of relief. This was a heaven-sent opportunity.

It was inevitable that the whisperings which went on in the Cockpit did not entirely escape attention. The King had no idea that his daughter was disloyal to him and his wife; no one told him, simply because he would not have believed it if they had and, moreover, he would have been seriously displeased with the informer. All through James’s life he had failed to see what was significant and important to his own well-being. He wanted a loving, loyal daughter and he would convince himself he had one no matter what evidence was produced to the contrary.

There was more than the spiteful gossip at the Cockpit. Deep plans were being laid at The Hague. Even those men such as Lord Sunderland, James’s Prime Minister, whom James trusted completely, had eyes on The Hague. While James acted with caution, he was safe; but one false step could send him hurtling from his seat; these men knew it, and they wanted to be on the right side when that moment came. Back and forth between Whitehall and The Hague went the Protestant spies and the Catholic spies. Anne was writing frequently to her sister in Holland. Anne was a staunch Protestant and when she rode through the streets the people cheered her with more fervor than the Catholics thought desirable, so they decided that a watch should be kept on the Princess Anne and spies should be placed in her household without her knowledge.

As a result of this, two men met along the riverbank not far from Whitehall.

The elder drew the younger into the shadow of a tree and said: “You know what is expected of you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your task should not be difficult. The Princess and her familiar are not discreet. Memorize what you hear and we will meet frequently … though not always in the same place … and you can make your reports to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you spoken to Gwin?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He has been some time in the employ of the Princess so may have to be handled with a little care. But he is a good Catholic and therefore we may rely on him.”

“There is one thing, sir. These places are going to be costly. Lady Churchill has the disposing of them and she is a greedy woman.”

“We have considered that. You need have no fear. We will pay her prices for you and Gwin to get these pages’ places. Then … to work.”

Sarah was smug. John had been delighted when he had heard; she was his clever wife, but never yet had she made a bargain like this one.

“It is but a beginning,” she told him airily. “I sold the two places for one thousand two hundred pounds. It shows what can be obtained for the favors I shall have to dispose of.”

“And what manner of men are they to be able to pay such prices?”

“Pages merely, whose tasks will be to stand at the doors of the rooms awaiting orders. They must have rich friends.”

“Doubtless, which is our good fortune as well as theirs.”

But Sarah’s pleasure did not last.

Anne sent for her a few weeks after the two pages had been installed and Anne was clearly shaken.

“News from Holland which is most disturbing,” cried Anne. “Those new pages are Roman Catholics. My sister’s friends over here have informed her of this and she says they must be dismissed at once.”

“Dismissed!” fumed Sarah. “And since when has the Princess of Orange commanded this household?”

“She says that it would be dangerous to keep them, that they would spy on us and could prove to be very harmful.”

“They are innocent enough.”

“But did you know when you found them for the posts that they were Catholics?”

“They did not tell me so.”

“They will have to go,” said Anne more firmly than she usually spoke.

“Go!” blustered Sarah, thinking of the twelve hundred pounds which had been paid to her. “But, Mrs. Morley, they have already been accepted.”

“My sister is very determined that they shall go.”

Sarah’s eyes blazed suddenly, but she saw that Anne’s mouth was determined. Anne was growing more and more involved in conspiracy every day. She knew that the Prince and Princess of Orange deplored her father’s religious leanings; her sister’s letters brought a great excitement into her life. Mary and William were coming to England as soon as an opportunity offered itself. Mary would be Queen, for the people would not endure a Catholic on the throne and after Mary … Queen Anne! She put her hands on her swollen body. Who knew, she might be carrying the future King of England! She must be careful—for the sake of the child, for her own sake. She must show no favor to Catholics; nor would she have them in positions in her household where they could spy on her.

She guessed what happened. Sarah was always in need of money and had sold the places for a high future. That was legitimate enough, for it was a custom at Court. But she reckoned Sarah had bargained more advantageously than most were able to.

It was a pity to spoil Sarah’s bargain, but she could not help it. She would not agree with Sarah over this.

“The Catholic pages must go,” she said.

Sarah was furious, but what could she do?

The pages were dismissed and although Sarah refused to pay back the whole of the twelve hundred pounds declaring that they had spent a few weeks in their posts and must perforce pay for that privilege, she was so much the poorer.

Laurence Hyde, Earl of Rochester, called to see his niece the Princess Anne. Rochester was disturbed. He was well aware of the trouble for which his brother-in-law, the King, was heading, and Rochester had tried to be an honest man. He was the Lord Treasurer and he believed that if James would but desert Catholicism his reign could continue in peace and prosperity. James was a King who took his duties more seriously than his brother Charles had done; but he was incapable of understanding human nature and he completely lacked Charles’ ability to twist and turn himself out of trouble; James, in Rochester’s opinion, was a foolish man, and in this dangerous age a fool had very little hope of survival; and the Queen was an evil influence, because she was Catholic; he had hoped that James’s mistress Catherine Sedley would be able to detach the King from the Catholics, but this plan had failed and James had been reluctantly obliged to send Catherine to Ireland after bestowing on her the title of Lady Dorchester. Catherine would not remain there, and when she returned doubtless James would be as infatuated as ever; but meanwhile the situation was worsening.

The Cockpit was the center of scandalous gossip; he knew that letters were going back and forth between Anne and Mary, and what Anne wrote to her sister could only be imagined. Yet James could not see that his daughters were at the very heart of the conspiracy against him.

But Rochester was not calling at the Cockpit to remonstrate with his niece on these matters; it was a much more personal affair. Anne had no conception of how to use money. Her gambling debts were enormous; and Rochester was certain that her favorites were proving a great drain on her.

Anne, like her sister Mary in her youth, was greatly attracted by her own sex. The relationship with Sarah Churchill might have been considered an unhealthy one but for the fact that both the ladies were devoted to their husbands; all the same, one began to ask oneself whether the Princess’s devotion to the Churchill woman did not exceed what she gave to Prince George.

He was ushered into her presence by Lady Churchill who hovered near her mistress.

“Good day to you, uncle. It is a pleasure to see you.” Anne waved a hand for him to sit.

He thought that she was getting far too fat; of course she was pregnant as usual, but in view of her miscarriages and the children who had not lived Rochester wondered whether she was healthy enough to bear strong children.

The youthful pink of her cheeks was deepening; she was far too fleshy. And who could wonder at it? Even now there was a plate of sweets at her elbow and her beautiful plump ringed hands were reaching for one automatically. The Hydes had always been either drinkers or eaters; there was no doubt from which side of the family she had inherited that tendency. He himself was a drinker. With the Stuarts it was women; with the Hydes food and drink. Rochester had always thought the Hyde indulgence the less dangerous, but he was suddenly not so sure.

He glanced at Sarah Churchill, who met his gaze defiantly and seated herself on a tabouret close to her mistress.

“What I have to say to you is for your ears alone,” he told Anne.

“Lady Churchill has my complete confidence.”

Sarah was smiling at him smugly. But he was not going to discuss these matters before a third party. He said with dignity: “I see I must call again when Your Highness is free to see me alone.”

Anne looked alarmed. “Is it so important then?”

“All the more reason …” began Sarah.

Rochester put in: “I will call again,” and he rose.

But Anne’s curiosity was great.

“Oh, no,” she said. “Lady Churchill will not mind in the least.”

Lady Churchill flushed slightly, but Anne went on firmly: “Leave me with my uncle, dear Lady Churchill, and come back later.”

Incidents like this made Sarah so furious that she could scarcely control her rage; Rochester saw this, and thought: The sooner my niece is free of that virago, the better. If she dared she would insist that they change places and she be the mistress.

However, there was nothing Sarah could do, so she walked to the door, head erect, disapproval in every line of her comely figure.

Rochester wondered at which door she would be listening.

“Now, uncle,” Anne prompted placidly.

“A very unpleasant subject, I fear. You are deeply in debt again.”

“Oh, that!” said Anne.

“This time to the tune of seven thousand pounds. A fortune, you will see.”

“But I cannot understand it.”

“You have been losing heavily at cards lately, perhaps. And you are doubtless too generous to … your friends.” He glanced at the door by which Sarah had just left.

“But seven thousand pounds!”

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