Well, Mrs. Lundy was thinking, Secretary of State, a Duke … that was rather pleasant. And the King—and the Queen—would know that it was Mrs. Lundy who had persuaded that obstinate man to change his mind. They ought then to be very respectful toward Mrs. Lundy.
“I will talk to him,” she said.
“I know you will succeed,” Elizabeth assured her.
The mixture was brought to Gloucester who, protesting, took it. It cured his ague but made him so ill that his parents feared he was on the point of death.
Anne sat on one side of his bed, George on the other.
“He must not die,” whispered Anne brokenheartedly, and George came to stand at her side and place one of his fat hands on her shoulder. Dear comforting George, who loved the boy even as she did. Gloucester looked weakly from one to the other and smiled faintly.
“You must not fret so, Papa and Mama,” he said. “I shall get better soon. I have to drill the men I intend to offer the King to go to Flanders with him.”
Then he closed his eyes and slept.
He was right; he did improve.
It was a glorious day when Anne and George knew that he was out of danger.
“He should be proclaimed Prince of Wales,” said Anne.
George shook his head, meaning that it would not be wise.
“Mary is fond of him; she gives him almost everything he asks for. I think sometimes she would give everything she has for a son like our boy. George, I have just thought of something. The Duke of Hamilton has died. Does that convey anything to you?”
“No, my dear, only that the Duke of Hamilton is dead.”
“He had the Garter.”
“It’s true,” said George.
“A blue ribbon vacant. Why not for our boy?”
“It should be his. Why not?”
“Pray tell him to come to me at once.”
Mary was pleasurably excited as always by this man.
He came to her and bowed low. What was it about him that reminded her of her youth in Holland when she had danced with Monmouth? He was not in the least like Monmouth—he had far more to commend him. He was more serious. Poor Monmouth had tried to snatch at office and had lost his head in doing so, and Shrewsbury had been remarkably shy in taking it.
“I hope, my lord,” said Mary, flushing slightly, “that you have come to give me the news I shall best like to hear.”
“Your Majesties have been most gracious to me, most complimentary.”
“I know the King desires you to take office. There are few men here whom he can trust.”
“I once heard it said to him that there was no one in England who could be trusted and he replied, ‘Yes, there are men of honor in England, but alas, they are not my friends.’ ”
Mary nodded. “In his great wisdom he knew that to be true. You, my lord, are one whom he would trust; and if I could write to him and tell him that you have accepted office that would be the best news he could have.”
“It is my desire to serve Your Majesties.”
Mary gave a little cry of pleasure and laid her hand on his arm, then flushing still deeper, removed it.
“I am so delighted that you have made this decision.”
They looked at each other intently. He was suspected of being a Jacobite; but he was also a man of honor. Perhaps he had refused office because he had no wish to serve against the King to whom he had once sworn allegiance. This taking of office, in the case of a man like Shrewsbury, must mean that he had accepted the revolution, that he had decided that it was impossible to attempt to bring back James and would work therefore for William and Mary.
William was right. There were few men of honor who had been his friends. If they had been men of honor they would not readily have deserted the old King in favor of the new. That was why William had had to look for his friends among Dutchmen.
But Shrewsbury was a man they knew they could trust, and the Queen felt a mingling of relief, delight—and excitement.
