II
The Coming of William
“My dear David, it is a marvellous scheme.”
Roxhythe turned his hand so that the rings on it flashed in the sunlight.
“It seems very well. But what says the Prince?”
He was walking with the King in the Privy Gardens at Whitehall.
Charles shrugged.
“He has refused hitherto, but this time I think he will consent.”
“Oh. And what says the Lady Mary?”
“She’s a child. Therefore foolish.”
My lord smiled.
“I thought so. And the Duke?”
“David, there are moments when ye would try the patience of a saint! Do you expect me to listen to James his plaints?”
“After all, she is his daughter,” murmured Roxhythe.
“He should not count her above the nation,” returned Charles piously.
Roxhythe’s shoulders shook.
“Oh, lud!”
Charles bit his lip. Then he too burst out laughing.
“Fie on you, David! This time I have the nation’s good at heart.”
“Very well, Sir. So the Lady Mary must be sacrificed.”
“Sacrificed!”
“Sire, you have had but a fleeting glance of your nephew. And that was seven years ago. You have not seen your nephew’s court.”
“No. Is it still so dreary?”
“Ineffably. I do pity the Lady Mary.”
“She will grow accustomed to it,” said Charles comfortably. “At all events the thing must be done.”
“It is wise, I grant you. But you were never so set on it until now. Do I see the hand of Danby?”
“Partly. He is mad for it. I think he is suffering from an attack of patriotism. He is subject to them.”
“Sir, Danby is a waverer. He is greatly disliked.”
“He will last a little longer. He has his uses.”
Roxhythe frowned.
“True. But not much longer. When does the Prince land?”
Charles plucked a rose and twirled it between his fingers.
“Next week. Odds, I am anxious to see him again.”
“Does he know for what he is invited?”
“I suppose so. You say he is no fool.”
“No. Therefore I expect him to comply very readily with your desires. I never understood why he refused before. He is very secret.”
Charles nodded. They pursued their way along the ordered walks. Presently the King waved his hand towards the south side of the gardens where were the Duchess of Cleveland’s apartments.
“Bab swears she is for Paris,” he remarked.
Roxhythe smiled.
“I gather her Grace of Portsmouth has annoyed her?”
“Bab was ever a termagant. I hope she will return, though I have been worn to a shred by her passions. Mine is a hard lot.”
Roxhythe looked inquiringly.
“Why? Because two women quarrel?”
“Oons, no! I was thinking of this marriage.”
“I thought you were so eager for it?”
“On the one side I am; Louis is coming too close. But on the other side I do not wish to offend him. He’ll take this very ill. However, I hope for peace.”
Roxhythe was amused.
“What! Do you think that the dreary argufyers at Nimeguen will have done at last?”
“I do trust so. I count on it.”
“You are grown sanguine, Sir,” said Roxhythe drily.
Across the lawn came Danby, hurrying. He bowed to the King.
“Sire, the latest news is that Buckingham, Salisbury, and Wharton humbly submit, and plead your mercy.”
The King looked at his favourite.
“Very proper,” said my lord. “And Ashley?”
“Oh, Shaftesbury is obdurate, sir! He appeals to the law.”
“Does he so?” said Charles, amused. “What good does he think will come of it?”
“Heaven knows, Sir! I think he hopes to raise an outcry.”
“Very likely. Well, let him appeal. He is out of harm’s way. What of the others, Davy?”
“I should release them, Sir, an they are properly repentant.”
“You hear, Danby?”
“Yes, Sir. Will you sign the orders?”
“Not now. Some other time.”
“Very well, Sir.” Danby bowed and walked away.
“Vengeance is satisfied, Roxhythe?”
“Amply, Sir. He’ll not annoy me again.”
“If he knows whom he has to thank for his imprisonment.”
“Oh, he knows!” replied my lord. “He probably realizes the futility of fighting against it.”
“I am glad that you are not my enemy,” grimaced Charles.
Next week, on the day of the Prince’s arrival, the great hall at the Palace was crowded. The King stood by Lord Danby, talking gaily; a little to his left sat the Queen, Roxhythe at her elbow, the Ladies Mary and Anne behind her. Lord Dorset was near the door, in a knot of courtiers; Killigrew stood by the window, one of another group. Near the King was the Duke of York; his wife, Mary, sat beside the Queen.
The room was a riot of colour, and over all was a buzz of conversation. Then, suddenly, fell a hush. The great curtain at one end was swung back; into the hall came a slight, plainly dressed young man with auburn curls falling about his hawk face. In his wake were some half a dozen gentlemen.
The King stepped forward. As he moved his silks and velvets rustled.
“My dear nephew! We do give you welcome!”
Everyone was craning to see the Prince. Many remembered him, but there were many who had never till this moment set eyes on him.
Roxhythe noticed very little difference in William. He had aged somewhat; his face was keener and more lined. He dressed as soberly as ever, and his manner lacked the courtier’s polish. He seemed strangely out of place in the midst of this gay throng.
William bent the knee, kissing the King’s hand.
“I am honoured to be invited once more to Whitehall, Sir,” he said. He spoke English well, but with a Dutch accent.
Charles patted his shoulder.
“ ’Tis we who are honoured,” he said. “Come, let me present you to Her Majesty!” He led William forward. “You remember Prince William, madame?”
Catherine smiled lifelessly, extending her plump white hand.
The King’s eye roved round the room.
“I think you know most of us, William. I’ll not weary you with introductions!” He bowed to the Duchess of York. “Permit me to present to you Prince William, madame.”
Mary bent her head.
The King smiled at the fair, mischievous girl behind her.
“Come child!”
The younger Mary came to him, swaying her brocades. The King took her hand.
“You have already met our niece, William.”
William looked at her searchingly as he bowed. The full lips pouted a little, the big eyes were downcast. Mary curtseyed.
“Then we have
