Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II

Holland Elizabeth should come to him and it would be almost as it had been in the old days.

It became clear to William that it was a mistake to think that he could afford to flout Anne. No matter how many victories he might win abroad, to the English he was still a foreigner, and they resented a foreign King. Yet when Anne was carried out in her chair they cheered her; they looked upon her as the heiress to the throne and on Gloucester as her successor. He could not hope for a peaceful existence while he was outwardly not on good terms with her.

He renewed his promise of St. James’s Palace and this time Anne was able to move in. Then he made a gesture which gave Anne more pleasure than anything else could have done.

Lord Strafford, Knight of the Garter, died; and William wrote to Anne to say that it would give him the greatest pleasure to bestow the vacant ribbon on his nephew.

Anne went at once to her son’s apartment where he was having breakfast. In spite of her excitement she was shocked to see that Lewis was sitting beside him spooning the food into his mouth.

“That,” she said, “is no way for a Prince to eat. Lewis, stop it at once.”

“Your Highness it is the only way in which we can induce him to eat.”

Anne looked at her son with the familiar mingling of pride and terror. She had lost the last child as she had all the others, and Gloucester was her great hope. And he did not like food when his father and mother had such a delight in it! Was it a sign of delicate health?

“My boy,” she said, “do you not like the food which is prepared for you?”

He considered this and said: “I like crumbs on the table but I do not care much for food on plates.” He then wet his finger and picked up some of the crumbs about the table.

“You eat like a chicken,” she said.

“Oh, Mama, I am a chick of the game.”

His bright eyes, his quick smile were enchanting. Oh God, she prayed, preserve my darling. Keep him well. Take anything from me but leave me my precious boy.

“I have good news for you. You are to have the Garter.”

His eyes shone with pleasure. “The Garter. But I have long wanted it and do you know, Mama, Harry Scull dreamed he saw me wearing it. Pray, Lewis, bring Harry to me without delay. I must tell Harry.”

Back to Campden House came Gloucester, eyes brilliant with triumph, wearing the blue ribbon. He paraded before his parents telling them about the ceremony. “There were eleven knights with the King,” he said. “William knighted me with the sword of state and then put the ribbon on me with his own hands, and that, Papa—are you listening Mama?”

“To every word, my dearest.”

“Well that is most unusual, for one of the knights usually does it, but William wanted to do it for me. It was a special occasion. I am a favorite of his.”

“Well, you are an heir to the throne.”

“Yes, but it is a most unusual thing to be a favorite of the King’s, Mama.”

Anne exchanged glances with her husband. How could anyone help but make him a favorite? she was asking.

“Now may I go to my men. They are all anxious to see me in the Garter. I shall always wear it … until the day I die.”

“We will not speak of that,” said Anne sharply; and George laid a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

They were silent, listening to Gloucester’s voice shouting orders to his soldiers.

It had been wonderful to see the boy wearing the ribbon, but the mention of his death could plunge them both into deepest melancholy.

There was a visitor for the Princess Anne. This was John Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave. Anne could never see him without remembering that love affair of her youth when she and John Sheffield had planned to marry. She still remembered the poems he had written to her. He had been sent away on her account and she had been given her dear George who was the best of husbands; but that did not mean she had not still a tender spot for Sheffield.

He was handsome; he was an excellent poet; and she believed he was at heart a Jacobite, for he had remained loyal to James longer than most men.

“My lord,” she said, “it does me good to see you.” He kissed her hand with a lingering tenderness. He was married and so was she, but memories lingered.

“I came to congratulate you on the Duke’s honor.”

“It was good of you.”

“I thought you would like to hear an account from an eye witness. I never saw the like. One would have thought he was a mature man. Such dignity! Such grace!”

“He is a most unusual boy.”

“Which is only to be expected.”

Their eyes met. He was thinking: He might have been ours. And if he had, she wondered, would he have been