However, the weeks sped by and in fact I was enjoying the occupations which filled my quiet life. I did not want to be drawn into political conflicts, particularly now when there was a growing hostility between my husband and father.

I thought very tenderly of my father every now and then, remembering incidents from my childhood, but my impatience with him for creating this trouble was increasing.

I was reading a great deal about the doctrines of the Church and I was becoming more and more convinced that the break with Rome was a blessing for England, and that a religion which could tolerate an Inquisition with its accompanying cruelties must be avoided at all cost. It was true that there had been persecution by the Protestants, but there had never been such cruelty in England as there was under the reign of Bloody Mary, and it was right that all steps should be taken to make sure that it never happened again. William would prevent it. My father would bring it back.

William came to me one day and said: “The Duke of Monmouth will be coming to The Hague.”

“To The Hague!” I cried in astonishment. Jemmy had been in Holland and William had shown his friendship to him, but to invite him to The Hague — and if he came it must be as an honored guest — was an insult not only to my father but to my uncle, the King. Jemmy was the latter’s son, of course, but he was in exile.

“But . . .” I began.

William waved a hand impatiently. He did not enter into explanations. Suffice it to say that Jemmy was coming at his invitation.

“We must give him a good welcome,” he said.

“I?”

He looked at me coldly, annoyed that I should remind him that I was not usually included on such occasions.

“Naturally, you will help to entertain him,” he said. “So you will be ready to do so.”

He did not linger. He did not want to answer questions. So our brief interview was over.

I was puzzled. The thought entered my mind. Should I allow myself to be treated in this way? To be shut away, almost as though I were under house arrest, and then suddenly to be called out of seclusion at a moment’s notice. I knew why — of course. I was my father’s daughter. And my father and Monmouth were enemies.

I was never forceful enough, but there were times when I wanted to protest. I did not understand my feelings for William. He was usually cool to me, never tender, never loving; and yet I behaved in this submissive way. I was always aware of that power in him, that quality which made me forget he was undersized, not physically strong when compared with most men; but somehow he managed to tower over them mentally. I knew enough of him to be aware that he railed against his weakness, that he was often in pain from his aching joints. He would never admit this, of course, and Nature had endowed him with towering mental powers with which to achieve his great ambitions.

There was another reason why I was eager to comply with his request. I was very fond of Jemmy. Both Anne and I had looked forward to his visits. He used to dance with us and tell us wild exciting stories of his exploits, of his daring and unmatched courage. They were all fabrications, and we knew it — but we loved hearing them all the same.

So to see him again, if only for a brief time, would be exciting. I would try to forget my uneasiness concerning the part he may have played in the Rye House Plot. I would just look forward to being with Cousin Jemmy.

It was some time since I had appeared at court. There had been one occasion when I had done so most reluctantly. It was one I could not easily forget.

Always at St. James’s we had remembered the anniversary of my grandfather’s death, and made it a day of mourning. Anne and I used to stay quietly in our apartments, and there had been special prayers for our grandfather’s soul.

I had always kept up the practice, even since I had come to Holland, and the day had always passed off quietly until the one at the beginning of this year.

I had fasted during that day, wearing a black gown, and was at prayer in my chamber when William came in.

He looked very impatient at the sight of me.

He said: “Enough of this. You are to dine with me tonight.”

I replied: “But I am fasting on this day, which is the anniversary of the murder of my grandfather.”

“Take off that gown,” he said, “and put on the brightest one you have.”

I stared at him incredulously. “I could not do that,” I said.

“Get one of your women to help. You cannot wear that dress of mourning. I wish you to wear your most splendid gown.”

“In England,” I began, “we always . . .”

“You are not in England now.”

“Here, too,” I said.

“I wish you to appear with me. There must be no hint of mourning. You understand?”

“But . . .” I began; and at that moment Betty Selbourne came in with Anne Trelawny. I realized he must have sent for them.

He said to them: “The Princess must be ready in an hour. Bring out the most splendid of her gowns.”

Then he left us.

“But it is the anniversary,” began Betty.

Anne was looking at me questioningly. “What does Your Highness want?” she asked.

I hesitated. Then I said: “Bring out the gown and help me to dress.”

I could see that Anne was angry and Betty was already thinking of what she would write home. People there would soon know that I had been commanded to ignore the day of mourning for my grandfather.

I felt numb as they helped me dress, but I was ready when the Prince arrived to take me to The Hague.

I remember so well sitting there while the dishes were placed before me. I could eat nothing. I was choked with misery ... for my grandfather who had been brutally murdered, and for the fact that I could be so treated. It was, as Dr. Ken had said, as though I were a slave.

At that time I despised myself and I hated William. I saw what was in his mind, of course. He wanted the people to know he would have no looking back, no mourning for an ancestor who, through his folly, had lost a kingdom. William looked forward.

It was a long time before I could forgive him for this.

Perhaps I should have been grateful for the secluded life I was leading. I was becoming educated, seeing beyond the obvious, trying to understand my position. There were little, carefree enjoyments in my life which I had not known since I left England.

It was my custom to retire at a fairly early hour, for I liked to have plenty of time to say my prayers and perhaps read a little from some religious books which Dr. Covell had given me. He was anxious, as Dr. Ken was, that I should not turn to the more puritanical Dutch form, which they were sure William was trying to force on me.

One night when I was reading, Anne Trelawny came into my closet and told me that a messenger had arrived and was asking to see me without delay.

He was brought in.

He said: “The Duke of Monmouth has arrived, Your Highness, and is at the Palace of The Hague. The Prince requests you go there without delay.”

I said: “I will see him in the morning. I am just about to retire.”

“Your Highness, the Prince said that I was not to return without Your Highness. He wishes you to put on suitable garments without delay and come to him at the Palace.”

My thoughts went back to that other occasion when I had had to change from my mourning gown at his command.

Suppose I refused? I could not. I dared not. I wondered what he would do if I did? Would he bring Jemmy here? Would he come himself? I very much wanted to see Jemmy.

Only briefly did I hesitate. Then I told the messenger he should wait below and I should be with him very shortly and we would go to the prince’s apartments.

There I found Jemmy with William. It was wonderful to see my cousin again. I forgot all ceremony and so did he.

We embraced and he hugged me tightly.

“Little cousin,” he said. “What a joy to see you.”

“Jemmy,” I murmured, “dear Jemmy.”

“Let me look at you. Why, you have grown into a beauty. William, you must be proud of her.”

William did not answer and I did not look his way.

“Oh, Jemmy,” I began.

He squeezed my hand. “We’ll have opportunities to talk, I know.”

We dined together. William was very affable. I had rarely seen him in such a mood and I wondered at it, since they both had pretensions to the throne. Jemmy was so good-looking, so charming, he would have a way of beguiling the people and there would be many on his side. He was the Protestant hope — or at least one of them. Could he ever manage to escape his illegitimacy? William and he were rivals.

There must be some devious motive behind William’s affability, but I did not want to think of it at this time. Suffice it that Jemmy was here.

William was determined that he should have lodgings worthy of the Duke of Monmouth during his visit to the court of The Hague and he suggested the Prince Maurice Palace.

Jemmy’s eyes shone. I knew from the past that there was little he enjoyed more than to be treated with the deference due to rank.

“You must let me know what servants you require,” William said, “and I shall see that they are provided.”

This was special treatment. William listened with courteous attention to everything Jemmy said and encouraged him to talk — which was scarcely needed.

The thought came into my mind that Jemmy would need to be very alert if he intended to pit his wits against William’s.

That was a pleasant evening — perhaps I might say the most pleasant I had had since my arrival in Holland. William treated even me with a show of gracious concern. I felt lighthearted. But there was a tinge of sadness. Jemmy’s coming reminded me too poignantly of home.


* * *

THE NEXT DAYS were some of the most exciting of my life.

I must be seen everywhere with William and Monmouth. I was treated with courtesy; the people cheered me — in fact, I believe they did so more warmly for me than for William. He would notice this, of course, but he showed no sign of resentment. I thought perhaps the people may have heard whispers of his treatment of me and wanted to tell me that they were sorry for me. I could not help being flattered and pleased.

Jemmy was delighted. He was acclaimed by the people. That was of the utmost importance to him. Poor Jemmy, all through his life he had sought to escape the stigma of illegitimacy.

He quickly became popular, of course, and at every opportunity showed his strong allegiance to Protestantism.

I was glad they liked him. As for myself, I looked forward with great delight to his company. He was always so tender and considerate toward me, and so loving that I could almost fancy he was falling in love with me.

It was a ridiculous thought, but I was starved of affection. I was, after all, young, unworldly, sentimental.

I knew that Jemmy shared with the King and my father the particular Stuart failing. One of their main objects in life was to enjoy the society of attractive women.

Lady Henrietta Wentworth had arrived at The Hague and to everyone’s amazement had been received as though she were the Duchess of Monmouth, even by William. Lady Henrietta was, of course, known to be Jemmy’s mistress of some years’ standing. I guessed that the real Duchess, his wife, had stayed in England. It was not a happy marriage. It had been a great match for him but I supposed that once he was in possession of her titles and fortune he forgot whence they came, as so many do.

It was absurd for me to have fancies about Jemmy, but one can be absurd at times, especially when one has lived the life of a recluse for several years, and then is thrust into a world of fun and gaiety.

Lady Henrietta did not, however, intrude, which meant that Jemmy’s attention was all for me. It was amazing that William, who had ever before been watchful of all those who were allowed to visit me, now seemed to give Jemmy and me absolute freedom.

Jemmy liked to dance and so did I. In fact, in my apartments now and then I danced with my women.

Jemmy said there were several new dances now fashionable at Whitehall and he would teach me some of them. William raised no objection and this gave Jemmy and me a chance of some private conversation.

I learned the dances quickly and we sat and talked.

“We have heard reports of what is happening to you here,” he told me. “Tell me first, are you happy?”