The Three Crowns epub (53 page)

Dr. Covell, seeing that he could not deny it considering William was holding his letter in his hand, confessed that this was so. He told him that he was acting on instructions from Skelton, who had received his orders from Whitehall.

“Get out,” said William.

When he had gone he sent for Mary.

She came in fear. He studied her coldly for some seconds before speaking.

Then he said: “I can only believe that you are so stupid that you do not understand you have been the victim of a conspiracy.”

“I … William?”

Now she was like the Mary he knew, meek and frightened of him.

“Yes, you. Your father has decided to marry you to a Papist.”

She gasped in horror. “But I am married to you, William.”

“He does not intend you to remain so.”

“But how could I …?”

He lifted a hand to silence her. “You have been very weak. You have listened to gossip and believed the worst of me. In so doing you have played into their hands. Your father is a ruthless man. Have you forgotten Monmouth and the Bloody Assizes? Your father is to blame for those tragedies, and now he wants to add another to their number.”

“He has had to defend his crown, William.”

“So you make excuses for him?”

“He
is
my father.”

“I wonder you are not ashamed to call him so.”

“I know that he is mistaken so often in what he does. But it is true, William, that Elizabeth Villiers is your mistress.”

A quiver of alarm touched him. That vein of strength in her was apt to appear when he believed he had subdued her, to make him never quite sure of her.

He felt a stirring of panic and said quickly: “She is nothing to me.”

“William!”

“But …”

He would not let her speak, lest she ask questions he could not parry. He had heard the note of joy in her voice. She wanted Elizabeth Villiers to be of no importance to him. She was willing to meet him halfway.

“Why,” he said, “have you forgotten that
you
are my wife?”

“I feared you had forgotten it, William.”

“It is something I could never forget.” That was true enough. Was she not the heir to the three crowns he coveted? “So let us be sensible, Mary.”

“Yes, William.”

“This affair … it was nothing. It meant little to me.”

“And it is over?”

“I will never forget that you are my wife. Our marriage is important … to us … to Holland … to England. We have our duty. Let us never forget that.”

“No, William.”

He put his hands on her shouders and gave her his wintry smile. He saw the tears in her eyes and knew that he had won.

When she had gone he sent for Covell, Anne Trelawny, and the Langfords.

“You should begin your preparations,” he said. “You leave for England tomorrow.”

Then he sat down and wrote to Laurence Hyde—the King’s brother-in-law—and asked that Skelton be recalled and another envoy sent to Holland in his place.

Mary was saddened
by the loss of her dear friends. She had particularly loved Anne Trelawny and when she remembered how they had been allies in the days of Elizabeth Villiers’s ascendancy in the nursery she felt her departure the more.

For it was useless to pretend Elizabeth was not William’s mistress. William had said that the affair was of little importance, but he continued it. Elizabeth Villiers seemed slyer and more smug than ever; and now that Mary had been forced to face the truth she could not get it out of her mind.

Why should she endure this? When William was absent she felt very bold; it was only when he was with her that she told herself she must reconcile herself to her fate.

William had left The Hague for a short visit inland on official business—actually so this time, for Elizabeth Villiers remained in the palace.

Why should I stand aside while they conduct this intrigue under the very same roof? Mary asked herself. They think that I acted as I did because Anne Trelawny and Mrs. Langford advised me to. They think I have no will of my own.

They were wrong. Although she longed for ideal relationships, for peace between her father and her husband, she was not afraid to assert her will when she thought it necessary to do so; she would show them this.

She sent for Elizabeth Villiers.

Elizabeth stood before her—sly, always sly, and alert, wondering with what she was about to be confronted.

“I want a very special and important message to be delivered,” said Mary, and her regal manner alarmed Elizabeth.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Knowing your discretion and intelligence I am giving you the task of delivering it.”

“Your Highness can be assured that I shall obey you to the best of my ability.”

“I am sure you will do well what you must.”

Mary went to her table and picked up a letter which was sealed with her royal seal. A great deal of thought had gone into writing that letter.

“You should leave at once,” she said; and as she turned to look at her enemy a fierce jealousy struck at her. What had Elizabeth to offer him? She was clever; no one doubted that. But as far as beauty was concerned she was not to be compared with Mary who had been called one of the most beautiful women in Europe, and although royalty was always given more credit for beauty than it deserved, that opinion was not all flattery. It was true that she had put on too much weight but her hair was still abundant, her dark shortsighted eyes, although they were giving her a great deal of trouble, were still attractive.

And there was Elizabeth with that extraordinary cast; perhaps that was attractive, that, and her wit and her boldness.

“To whom is the message to be delivered, Your Highness?” asked Elizabeth.

“To my father.”

It gave Mary pleasure to see the start of amazement quickly followed by panic.

“I beg Your Highness’s pardon but … did I understand …”

“You understood very well,” said Mary. “You surely do not imagine that I would ask
you
to deliver an ordinary message … like a page?”

“No, but …”

“I wish you to leave within the hour. You will be taken to the coast where a ship will be found for you. I trust you will have an easy crossing.”

Mary was sure that never in her life had Elizabeth Villiers been so bewildered. Quite clearly she did not know what to say. William was away from The Hague therefore she could not appeal to him, and in his absence, Mary’s orders must be obeyed without question.

Two of Mary’s male servants came into the room as they had obviously been commanded to.

“Everything is ready,” Mary told them. “You will leave immediately.”

Nonplussed, Elizabeth could do nothing but follow them; Mary stood at her window watching the departure.

Now all she had to do was await the return of William.

William was back
at The Hague for two days before he discovered Elizabeth’s absence.

It was Bentinck who told him. The quarrel between them had been mended, and although William had not apologized—that would have been asking too much—he had implied he was no longer displeased, while at the same time he wanted his friend to know that while he respected his advice on matters of state he wanted no interference with his domestic affairs.

“My sister-in-law has left for England,” Bentinck said.

For a moment William was so taken off his guard that he expressed bewilderment.

“She went on orders of the Princess.”

William still did not speak, and Bentinck waited for the storm.

It did not come.

“I wish you to peruse these letters from Celle and give me your opinion.”

Bentinck bowed his head. His master’s control was admirable, but he wondered what he would do now, and he was sorry for the Princess, although he admired her action.

Anne Bentinck, advised
by her husband to do so, warned Mary that the Prince knew of Elizabeth’s dismissal. Mary waited for his reaction, but there was no sign that he was in the least affected. William might not have been the slightest bit interested in Elizabeth Villiers.

But inwardly he was deeply disturbed, because he realized that he did not know his wife. When he believed that he had subdued her, she would act in such a way as to confound him. He had been congratulating himself on the manner in which he had handled her discovery of his intrigue. She had seemed meek enough, ready to see it as he wished her to; and then, when he absented himself, she cleverly got rid of Elizabeth. He could imagine what would happen to Elizabeth when she reached England. Mary was clever enough to have arranged that. She was carrying a letter to James. He could picture what was in that letter.

How could Elizabeth have been so foolish? She should never have gone to England. She should have escaped to him and told him what had happened.

But Mary had planned well; Elizabeth had left the Palace in the company of Mary’s servants—who were for that occasion Elizabeth’s guards. Who would have believed it possible that while Mary was playing the docile wife she was making a careful plan to send Elizabeth out of Holland?

The thought which was never far from his mind came back to torment him. When Mary was Queen of England, with powerful ministers to back her—Englishmen who would work for her—what would her attitude be toward her husband? What would she make him: King or consort?

It was the burning question which was always between them; it was one he dared not ask her because he was afraid of the answer. He had tried to make her completely subservient to his will and he so frequently believed he had succeeded; then—usually choosing one of his absences—she would show that she could have her own way.