Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II

The Archbishop, smiling serenely, left him.

William sat down and covered his face with his hands.

Elizabeth Villiers was alarmed. It was long since she had seen her lover. There was so much to discuss; she had news for him of how the Queen’s death was affecting the Princess Anne’s household. But he did not come.

He would though, she was sure of it. He could not do without her. It might be that, knowing they were spied on he did not want to give his enemies the scandal they were hoping for.

It was only a matter of waiting, Elizabeth assured herself.

There was excitement in Berkeley House. Sarah had dismissed everyone so that she could have a private talk with Anne before she left.

This was a change in their fortunes, she assured her friend.

“His Majesty will graciously see you. He has changed his tune a little. And that does not surprise me, for I can tell you this, Mrs. Morley, the people are not so fond of William on his own as they were when your sister was Queen. They ask themselves what right he has to assume the crown. And what right has he? It is you, Mrs. Morley, who should be wearing it. You should be thinking of riding to your coronation instead of being carried in your chair to wait on Caliban!”

“It is true enough, Mrs. Freeman; but my sister would not have wished it so.”

“Oh, she was bemused and bewildered by that Dutch Abortion.”

“How I wish that we had been good friends! I was sitting here remembering, dear Mrs. Freeman, when we were little girls. I could not bear her out of my sight. I always wanted to do what she did, wear what she wore … I loved her, I think, more than anyone in my life at that time.”

“Children at play!” said Sarah sharply. “Well, now she is dead and gone.”

“Alas! I would I could have her with me for a while so that I could mend our quarrel.”

“You have another to consider, Mrs. Morley, and therefore little time to waste on regrets for the past. What of the young Duke of Gloucester. You must make sure of his future.”

“My precious boy! How right you are, Mrs. Freeman, as usual.”

“And,” went on Sarah, “when you talk to Caliban, you must make sure that he does not forget that he cannot thrust your son from his position.”

“He wouldn’t dare.”

“Caliban would dare anything, I do assure you. What if he married again? What if he had a son? Ah, Mrs. Morley, I can see that he would be very anxious then to make sure your boy did not have the throne.”

Anne’s lethargy dropped from her. “There would be a revolution if he ever attempted to take my boy’s rights from him.”

“Remember that and make sure he understands it. You need friends, Mrs. Morley, as you never did. And those who would be the best friends to you are languishing in exile. Banished from Court. It is something you can remedy now, I’ll warrant.”

“You are thinking of Mr. Freeman.”

“He is the best friend Mrs. Morley ever had, and if he were brought back to Court would be ready to defend your rights and those of the young Duke with all his skill, which I assure you, Mrs. Morley, is formidable; and it is for this reason that Dutch William has kept him from you. Ask him now to bring him back. Now is the time for you to ask favors. He wishes to show the people he is on good terms with you. Bring Mr. Freeman back and then Mrs. Morley will have two Freemans to protect her from whatever ill wind is likely to harm her and the precious little Duke.”

“My dear good friends!” murmured Anne.

“And here is Mrs. Morley’s chair.”

“I need it. I do not think I could walk a step.”

“You must save all your energies for facing that monster!” said Sarah.

Anne was lifted into her chair and carried from Berkeley House first to Campden House and from there to Kensington Palace, where William was waiting to receive her.

Anne was suffering so much from gout and obesity that her chair had to be carried right to the door of the King’s presence chamber, where William, making an unusually gracious concession, came out to receive her and himself opened the door of her chair.

Taking his hand, Anne hobbled out.

Anne said tremulously: “I am sorry for Your Majesty’s loss.”

William answered: “I am sorry for yours.”

For the first time in her life Anne saw that he was moved by his emotions and this let loose her own; she began to weep silently.

William said gently: “Pray come in and be seated.”

He closed the door and they were alone. He brought forward a chair that Anne might sit and then he brought another for himself and placed it close to hers. For a few seconds they remained silent as though to control their grief.