Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II

Anne was dining at the royal table. This was one of William’s economies; he had ordained that the Princess Anne, the Queen and King must not keep separate tables; it was an extravagance.

It was no great pleasure to dine at the King’s table. He said little and never addressed a word even to those who served him. The Queen would have liked a little gaiety—some amusing conversation, a little music and afterward, dancing. But she conformed in every way to the King’s desire and was almost as silent as he was.

How different it had been in the days of Uncle Charles! thought Anne. And even in our father’s day.…

Then her eyes sparkled for a servant had set a dish of green peas on the table. Green peas! the first of the year which always tasted the best.

Anne’s mouth was watering. She loved her food and more especially during pregnancies.

She could not stop looking at the peas. Mary could not eat them; they were bad for her; and William was a poor eater. There were not a great many; she would eat the lot and it would be no use asking for more for it was too early yet and these would be all that were ready for serving.

The Queen had shaken her head at the dish. Now it was Anne’s turn. Anne leaned forward; but just as she did so William stretched out a hand and drew the dish toward him, and under Anne’s agonized eyes ate the lot without even asking her to have a few.

Beast! thought Anne. Uncouth swine! Dutch abortion. Caliban! Was there ever such a King? He belonged more in a swineherd’s hut than in a palace.

She was quaking with rage when she returned to her own apartments for although most things did not rouse her from her lethargy, food could.

Sarah came to her and demanded what fresh insult she had been forced to endure.

Anne told the story, her eyes glistening; she could see those peas, smell them, remember the flavor of past peas; she could see them now disappearing into that ugly twisted mouth.

“And he ate them as though he did not care what he was eating.”

“Of course he did not care. He only wanted to keep them from you.”

“I hate him!” said Anne vehemently.

“Oh, dear Mrs. Morley, he will not always be with us. Let us think of the bright future when he is gone. That will be the greatest day of my life when we crown Queen Anne.”

It was pleasant to contemplate but Anne’s mind was still clouded with the thought of green peas.

Sarah saw this and had the gardens and forcing houses searched in the hope of finding some that might be found and cooked for the Princess; but none were to be had.

Anne could only ease her disappointed palate by going over and over the list of his sins with Sarah, and from that day she hated him and was ready to follow wholeheartedly in any scheme against him.

AT THE PLAYHOUSE

arah Churchill, thought Elizabeth Villiers, had become one of the most important figures at Court and all because she had so fascinated the Princess Anne that she was allowed to manage her affairs completely. With anyone but Anne, Sarah would have had to use more subtle methods; that domineering know-all attitude would have had to be considerably subdued. But Anne was a stupid woman with an unnatural passion for the friend who was unlike her in every way. Sarah was not exactly beautiful, but was handsome with her magnificent fair hair and her extraordinary vitality. Anne had been pretty enough in an insipid way, but she was growing so fat that she looked much older than her years and of course the perpetual pregnancies had not helped her. She had turned to Sarah as one who was her opposite in every way; and even in their childhood days the sisters had had a great fondness for members of their own sex.

Sarah Churchill would have to be watched carefully.

Elizabeth Villiers’s own methods were quite different from Sarah’s; and yet there was a similarity, for as Sarah wished to influence Anne, so Elizabeth wished to influence William.

It had been a remarkable achievement to retain his attention all these years; he was a cold man, but between them there was a relationship which was enduring; they needed each other and to be the woman in William’s life who could give him exactly what he needed was a tribute to her brilliance.

She had wondered what her position would be in the household when she had accompanied Mary, as a reluctant bride, to Holland, for Mary had little love for her. They had spent much of their childhood together, but she had never been one of Mary’s selected friends. And then … she had seen the possibilities with William; and miraculously she had succeeded with him.

She must be ever watchful of rivals though; not that Mary was a rival. She would never be afraid of the Queen who was so quick to agree with her husband in every way—even though on one occasion she had, during William’s absence, sent her, Elizabeth, out of Holland with a letter addressed to the King, her father, asking him to keep her enemy there. Elizabeth had had some difficulty in returning to Holland, but she had; and after her spurt of independent action Mary had become the docile wife again.

Yet she need not be fearful of Mary when she was looking for a rival in William’s affection; she knew full well where the danger lay.

It was with Bentinck, William’s devoted friend and Elizabeth’s own brother-in-law, for he had married her sister Anne who had died just before they left Holland.

Elizabeth remembered now that deathbed scene with Mary attempting to reconcile the sisters. How characteristic of Mary, who must have everything comfortably rounded off.

Anne had been as docile a wife to Bentinck as Mary was to William—for in a way Bentinck and William were two of a kind, though Bentinck had a charm which William lacked; he was more polished in manners, more displomatic in his relations with others, but perhaps he could not afford to be as brusque as William was.

Two of a kind! thought Elizabeth; and women were not of great importance to either.