Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II (31 page)

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.

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.