“No, no, no!” I cried.

My father put his arms round me and rocked me to and fro as though I were a baby.

“Don’t let them send me away,” I begged.

“I shall be as unhappy as you, my dearest.”

“Then you must stop it!”

He said slowly: “My poor Mary, my poor child. You must understand. You were born into royalty, and we all must needs do what is asked of us. That is our destiny and duty. We have to face it. The people will like this marriage.”

“It is not they who will have to endure it.”

He sighed. “You see, it is your position, my child.”

“You mean the throne . . .”

“Oh, I know your stepmother and I have hopes of a boy, but there have been so many disappointments, and in view of your position, my dearest, the people want a Protestant marriage for you and there could not be a more ardent Protestant than Prince William. He has upheld that faith on the Continent of Europe and he is a very clever man. He is youngish yet, but he will make his mark on the world, never doubt it. He is a great man and you will be proud to be his wife.”

“Father ... dearest Father, I do not like him.”

“Liking comes with marriage.”

“So you want me to do this.”

He shook his head sadly. “I want you to stay with me all my life, but I know that cannot be. Alas, we have our duty. It is the King’s wish.”

“I have always found my uncle very kind. Perhaps . . .”

He shook his head. “Your uncle would be kind, but even he could not release you from this. He wants this marriage. He is anxious to strengthen our alliance with the Dutch and this marriage is one of the terms. It is a great opportunity for William. You will learn to understand these things. If you spoke to your uncle he would show great kindness and commiseration, but that is his way. Beneath the kindness he is a wily ruler and this marriage is necessary to the country. William wants it and we want friendship with William. Therefore the King insists. Let me tell you, I have tried to dissuade him, but it is of no avail.”

“Then there is no way out.”

“I think you will find William a good man. He is dedicated to his country’s welfare and that is a noble thing to be. And, of course, he has a claim to the throne of England — distant it may be, but there. An alliance with you will make that claim stronger. But this is not the time to talk of these things.”

“I want to know everything. I did not think the Prince would want to marry me unless there were ... advantages to him.”

“You must not judge him too harshly for that. It is diplomacy. But he wanted to meet you, to see you for himself before he would enter into the arrangement. He has seen you and likes you well. So that is a good start.”

“I hate it all. How can I leave you?”

“It will be a little time yet, but I wanted you to know. It will give you time to get accustomed to the idea. You will find it is not all bad, and I swear that in time you will look back on your fear and realize how unjustified it was. The Prince is a good man and your uncle thinks it will be a successful marriage.”

“But you do not like it, I see you do not!”

“I wanted you for the Dauphin of France,” he admitted.

“I should have had to go away from home then.”

“I had rather it had been an alliance with France. But this is what the people want.”

“But I am the one who has to marry him! I hate it!”

Then the tears came and I could not stop them. I wanted to plead with him, to beg him to stop this monstrous thing happening to me. But I could not speak. My sobs prevented me.


* * *

MY SISTER ANNE WANTED TO KNOW what ailed me.

“I am going to be married,” I said.

She stared at me in dismay.

“I shall have to go away,” I went on piteously.

“You can’t go away! I want you here. You’ve always been here. We belong together. You could not go away from me.”

She was deeply upset, poor Anne. She had drifted so happily through life — as we both had, until now. When she had not wanted to do her lessons, she had merely said they hurt her eyes and no one forced her to. Of course, she could not read very well, but that did not bother her. She must not eat so many sweetmeats, they said, but they just smiled and shook their heads when she slipped the delicious morsels into her mouth.

Now she was genuinely distressed. I must not go. She could not visualize our household without her elder sister whom she rather slavishly copied and who had been there all her life.

She was twelve years old now and she knew this was a serious matter, for suddenly she started to cry and, throwing her arms about me, clung to me as though to defy all those who would attempt to separate us. We wept together; in fact I had scarcely stopped weeping since my father told me the news.

I wrote a letter to Frances, passionately telling her what they were planning for me. All the girls seemed enveloped in gloom. Lady Frances looked anxious. What would happen to the household? There was still Anne, of course. But it would not be the same. It would be of less importance. I was nearer to the throne than Anne. What would happen to them all?

They whispered together. There was pity for me on account of the bridegroom who had been chosen for me.

“The Prince of Orange!” I heard someone murmur. “And the Lady Mary!”

I knew what they meant. They did not admire him. He was quite different from the men whom they considered to be attractive. He lacked graceful manners; he was brusque, he dressed simply; he had none of that charm which the King possessed in abundance and which most of the men about him sought to emulate.

My misery increased as the days passed and preparations marched inexorably onward. In the streets there were bonfires and signs of rejoicing at the prospect of a Protestant marriage — an indication that there could be a Protestant heir. Charles himself remained acceptable, in spite of suspicions that he had a leaning toward the Catholic faith. He was merry, charming, with a cheerful word for everyone. He had come back to them after his exile, the Merry Monarch. They were as anxious that he should not go wandering again as he was himself. They were happy enough in the present. It was the future which troubled them. Therefore my marriage to a stauch Protestant pleased them. It was only those immediately concerned, like my father and myself, who were uneasy.

I went to see Mary Beatrice. She was due to give birth shortly and if she had a son this marriage would be less desirable to many people. My hopes soared at the thought. What if William decided that he did not want to marry me after all!

That was nonsense. It was necessary for the treaty.

Mary Beatrice wept with me.

“My poor, poor Mary. He seems such an ogre, but he might be a good husband. At least he will not have a string of mistresses. There is a great deal to be said for fidelity,” she added wistfully.

“I shall be sent away,” I wailed.

“As I was.”

“I know. You suffered, too, but you came to England, to my father, who is good and kind.”

“William is a good man, they say.”

“And you were beaten when you did not know the verses of the psalm, whereas I have never known anything but love.”

“Oh yes, you have a most affectionate father. He would not let anyone punish either you or Anne, and you were always his favorite. Mary, this hurts him as much as it does you.”

“Oh dearest, dearest stepmother, I have to leave you, too, and Anne.”

She tried to comfort me, but in vain.

“They are saying that if you have a son, the Prince of Orange will not be so eager to marry me,” I said, looking at her pleadingly, as though it were in her power to save me.

“I think he would want to marry you whatever should be. Your father tells me that he liked very much what he found when he met you.”

“I did not realize then that I was being shown for that purpose.”

“He would not have wanted to marry you if he did not like you.”

I was not sure of that and, in any case, I did not like him.

“Think!” I moaned. “I shall have to leave you all.”

“Holland is not far. We shall visit you and you will come to us.”

I flung myself at her and clung. “I don’t want to go. Pray something will happen to stop it.”

There was nothing she could say to comfort me.


* * *

ELIZABETH VILLIERS WAS EXCITED.

She said: “I am so pleased because I shall be accompanying you to Holland.”

“You!” I cried.

“Well, you will have your attendants and I shall be one of them. You will have familiar faces around you. My mother is to be in charge of the attendants and my sister Anne will be with us, too. Is that not good news?”

There was only one piece of news which would be good to me at this time — that there would be no marriage. I was not particularly pleased that Elizabeth Villiers was to come with me. I was fond of Lady Frances in a way. She was often stern, but then she had to be responsible for us and I understand now that she was watchful for the advancement of her daughters, which was what one must expect from a mother. I was glad she was coming.

Anne Trelawny came in then and I could see that she had had news which pleased her.

“Your father has said that you and I are such friends that I should be one of those who are to go to Holland with you,” she cried.

We embraced warmly.

“I thought that would cheer you a little,” she said emotionally.

“I am so glad you are coming,” I told her. “It makes me slightly less miserable to think of that. There is only one thing that could make me really happy now.”

“I know,” said Anne, “but I shall do what I can to help and we shall be together.”

So I was cheered a little.

My sister Anne was very mournful indeed. She looked pale and quite unlike herself. Her cheeks had lost that rosy glow which had made her pretty.

“I do not like this, Mary,” she said. “It makes me feel quite ill. I begged our father to stop it.”

“It is not in his hands.”

“To separate us! We have never been separated. And now there is this man, John Churchill. He wants to take Sarah away. I won’t have it.”

“John Churchill,” I repeated, and I immediately thought of Arabella Churchill, with the wonderful legs, and what I had heard of her friendship with our father.

“He is very good-looking, I grant that,” went on Anne. “Sarah is taken with him, though she won’t admit it. He is always hanging around. Arabella Churchill is his sister. John Churchill was a page in our father’s household. You must have seen him. People say that Arabella helped him on. Then he became an ensign in the Foot Guards. He has been abroad already in France and Flanders, even Tangiers. I must say, he is very attractive. Sarah says that if he comes courting her he will have to give up his philandering ways. Did you know, they say our uncle sent him to Tangiers because Barbara Castlemaine liked him too much. And now he is chasing Sarah.”

I had rarely known Anne speak so much. She was not usually given to conversation and liked to sit contentedly listening while others conversed, avoiding all unnecessary effort.

But now she was really moved. I warmed toward her and the tragedy of having to say good-bye seemed greater than ever. How I should miss my dear sister. How could they take me away from everything that had made up my happy life? What a silly question! They could and would do it — by marrying me to the Prince of Orange.

Anne went on: “Of course, John Churchill’s family doesn’t think Sarah is good enough to marry him.”

I could not help saying: “I am sure Sarah does not agree with that.”

“No. She is furious about it. That is why she keeps him uncertain, and he grows more and more eager to marry her every day. But she likes him, I know. That is what worries me. She must not marry him, for if she does she will go away. Suppose they want to send him abroad. I will not lose you and Sarah. Mary, you must not leave me.”

There was nothing we could do but mourn together and my hope of release grew fainter every day.

The marriage now seemed a certainty. There was an occasion when the Council came to congratulate me. My eyes were red with weeping and I must have looked really miserable.