The Three Crowns

by Виктория Холт

  Perhaps they were right. Perhaps it was time something was done.

  She spent a sleepless night and in the morning she told herself that she must ignore these whispers. She must speak severely to Mrs. Langford and Anne Trelawny.

  But it was not easy.

  “You don’t believe us,” said Mrs. Langford sadly.

  Anne, that dear friend whom she knew had always loved her since their childhood, was bolder. “Your Highness does not want to believe,” she said, “and that is why you will not put us to the test.”

  “Put you to the test?”

  “Yes. Make sure that we are speaking the truth.”

  “How?”

  “He goes to her apartment almost every night. You could wait for him to leave it.”

  She shook her head.

  But she went on thinking about William and Elizabeth. She pictured him, slyly mounting the stairs to the maid of honor’s room, opening the door, Elizabeth waiting … the embrace. Sly Elizabeth! Cold William! What was this attraction between them? Were they laughing at her for being so simple that she had not discovered their deceit?

  The card game was over. Mary said that she was tired and would retire to her room.

  She smiled at the Prince, who although he did not play cards, had joined the assembly.

  “You are looking tired,” she told him. “Could you not desert your work for one night and retire early?”

  He looked at her coldly and replied that urgent dispatches were awaiting his attention.

  “You work too hard,” she said, smiling fondly, and bade him goodnight.

  Her ladies prepared her for bed and she dismissed them all except Anne Trelawny and Mrs. Langford. Then Anne brought a robe and wrapped it about her.

  “It may well be that you will have to wait a long time at the foot of the privy stairs to the maids of honors’ apartments,” she said.

  “I shall wait,” said Mary firmly.

  They made her comfortable there.

  They knew that he was visiting Elizabeth Villiers that night because Mrs. Langford’s son had been set to wait behind the hangings and he had seen him go to her.

  Only Mary’s anger saved her from tears.

  They had successfully convinced her that she had allowed herself to become an object of pity since, it seemed, all knew of the adulterous intrigue except herself.

  William looked down at Elizabeth who yawned sleepily as she smiled up at him. She implied that she was utterly contented.

  He felt rejuvenated, as he always did after these occasions. She attracted him as no other woman ever could. He did not know exactly what it was; she was knowledgeable, dignified, and without a trace of humility, which surprised him for he had always thought that docility was what he would ask in a woman, but she was so eager to be all that he wanted, he was deeply aware of that and it flattered him. She kept in step with him on state affairs and he guessed that must have been a great task; she was not afraid to offer an opinion. She was sensual but never over demanding; she seemed to be able to assess his strength to the smallest degree. She had made him her life, and she flattered him without seeming to do so. He would not have known what he wanted of a woman until he met Elizabeth and she had shown him.

  He could never break with her, however much the intrigue worried his Calvinistic soul. He told himself that she was a necessity to him. She supplied the recreation he needed; with his frail body and active mind, he needed that relaxation and only she could give it. That was his excuse; and he would scheme and lie to keep her.

  Sleek as a satisfied cat she watched him, delighted with the part she was called upon to play. The power behind the throne! She could not have asked for a more exciting role. She was no longer jealous of foolish sentimental Mary as she had been in the nursery days and she could always hug herself with delight to consider their positions now.

  William shut the door gently and cautiously descended the privy stairs.

  As he reached the last step a figure rose before him. He stared, unable to believe in those first seconds that it was his wife.

  “Yes,” she said. “It is I.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you to finish dealing with those … state papers. I did not know that you kept them in Elizabeth Villiers’s bedchamber.”

  “This is most unseemly.”

  “I agree. The Prince of Orange tiptoeing from his mistress’s bedroom!”

  “I do not wish to hear another word about this.”

  “I do not suppose you do. But I wish to speak of it.”

  “You are behaving even more foolishly than usual.”

  “And, William, how are you behaving?”

  “With great restraint, I assure you.”

  “William …”

  He pushed aside her arm.

  “Go back to your apartments. I am most displeased with you. I should have thought you would have had more dignity than to behave like a cottage shrew.”

  “And your behavior …” But her voice had faltered, he noticed, and he seized the advantage.

  “I am more than displeased by your conduct,” he said. “I am very angry. I do not wish to see you or speak to you until you are in a more controlled and reasonable state of mind.”

  With that he left her standing there, forlorn and tearful.

  Anne Trelawny and Mrs. Langford, who had been listening, came out to take her to her bed.

  They looked at each other in exasperation. One would have thought that she was the sinner. Oh, it was indeed time she had a kind and loving husband.

  They got her to bed and she lay shivering and sleepless.

  For some days William avoided her but he was very uneasy.

  He sent for Bentinck as he did when he was perplexed, and told him what had happened.

  “Someone must have advised her to do this. I suspect that girl Trelawny. I am going to find out, and if she is guilty she shall go back to England.”

  “It’s a little harsh on the Princess,” suggested Bentinck.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Your Highness was visiting my sister-in-law. She is your mistress. The Princess would naturally be disturbed to discover this!”

  “And you think it right and fitting for her servants to help her to spy on me?”

  “I think it a very natural state of affairs,” said Bentinck.

  “There are times, my friend, when you exceed your duty.”

  “I had believed that Your Highness always wanted me to answer your questions truthfully.”

  “I do not want insolence … even from my friends.”

  “I would respectfully point out that there was no insolence in my reply.”

  “You are being insolent now. You may go, Bentinck. I no longer need your presence.”

  As Bentinck bowed and retired, William stared at the closed door in dismay. This was the first time he had ever quarreled with Bentinck; he could scarcely believe it had happened.

  First to be discovered in that undignified way by a wife waiting at the bottom of a staircase! Then to be told he was in the wrong by one whose friendship he valued!

  He was ashamed, and when he was ashamed he was angry.

  Elizabeth opened very wide those eyes with the—to him—enchanting cast and said: “It is simple. Anne Trelawny and the Langford woman are at the bottom of this. They are always whispering together. Get rid of them and everything will be well.”

  “I should want to prove them guilty first.”

  “It should not be difficult. Others will be in it. Leave it to me. I’ll find out.”

  He kissed her. He could trust her he knew, his clever Elizabeth.

  In a few days she had the answer.

  “It is more serious than we believed. James is behind this.”

  “James? But how?”

  “His idea is to have your marriage annulled so that Mary can make a marriage more to his liking.”

  “A Catholic marriage!”

  “That is
exactly what he would like. Whether the people of England would accept that is another matter. In any case, James does not want you to remain his son-in-law. Covell is an old fool … fortunately. He cannot keep his mouth shut. He’s delighted to be working with Skelton who has his orders straight from Whitehall. You see the nature of our little plot?”

  “You’re a clever girl, Elizabeth.”

  “Have you only just discovered it?”

  “I always knew it.”

  “I am glad, for the more clever I am the greater service I can offer my Prince.”

  She took the frail little hand and kissed it. She expressed herself charmingly; her gestures were delightful.

  I’ll never give her up, he thought. I’ll defy James and all England if necessary; and I’ll keep Elizabeth … and Mary.

  The Prince of Orange was out hunting but his thoughts were not on his quarry. They were back at the Palace where he had given instructions to a few trusted servants to keep watch for anyone leaving with letters.

  These were to be stopped and searched, and any letters found on them were to be subjected to scrutiny.

  The stratagem worked.

  When he returned to the Palace several letters from Covell to Skelton and from Skelton to his master were laid before him.

  In these it was quite clear that a plot was in progress to bring about the dissolution of the Orange marriage. The Princess was first to be made aware of her husband’s infidelity with Elizabeth Villiers, then to be made to see she could not condone it. The names of Anne Trelawny and the Langfords were mentioned.

  William, having read the letters, sent for Covell.

  There was nothing brave about Covell, and William in a cold rage could be intimidating.

  “Do you admit that you have been plotting against me?” demanded William.

  Dr. Covell, seeing that he could not deny it considering William was holding his letter in his hand, confessed that this was so. He told him that he was acting on instructions from Skelton, who had received his orders from Whitehall.

  “Get out,” said William.

  When he had gone he sent for Mary.

  She came in fear. He studied her coldly for some seconds before speaking.

  Then he said: “I can only believe that you are so stupid that you do not understand you have been the victim of a conspiracy.”

  “I … William?”

  Now she was like the Mary he knew, meek and frightened of him.

  “Yes, you. Your father has decided to marry you to a Papist.”

  She gasped in horror. “But I am married to you, William.”

  “He does not intend you to remain so.”

  “But how could I …?”

  He lifted a hand to silence her. “You have been very weak. You have listened to gossip and believed the worst of me. In so doing you have played into their hands. Your father is a ruthless man. Have you forgotten Monmouth and the Bloody Assizes? Your father is to blame for those tragedies, and now he wants to add another to their number.”

  “He has had to defend his crown, William.”

  “So you make excuses for him?”

  “He is my father.”

  “I wonder you are not ashamed to call him so.”

  “I know that he is mistaken so often in what he does. But it is true, William, that Elizabeth Villiers is your mistress.”

  A quiver of alarm touched him. That vein of strength in her was apt to appear when he believed he had subdued her, to make him never quite sure of her.

  He felt a stirring of panic and said quickly: “She is nothing to me.”

  “William!”

  “But …”

  He would not let her speak, lest she ask questions he could not parry. He had heard the note of joy in her voice. She wanted Elizabeth Villiers to be of no importance to him. She was willing to meet him halfway.

  “Why,” he said, “have you forgotten that you are my wife?”

  “I feared you had forgotten it, William.”

  “It is something I could never forget.” That was true enough. Was she not the heir to the three crowns he coveted? “So let us be sensible, Mary.”

  “Yes, William.”

  “This affair … it was nothing. It meant little to me.”

  “And it is over?”

  “I will never forget that you are my wife. Our marriage is important … to us … to Holland … to England. We have our duty. Let us never forget that.”

  “No, William.”

  He put his hands on her shouders and gave her his wintry smile. He saw the tears in her eyes and knew that he had won.

  When she had gone he sent for Covell, Anne Trelawny, and the Langfords.

  “You should begin your preparations,” he said. “You leave for England tomorrow.”

  Then he sat down and wrote to Laurence Hyde—the King’s brother-in-law—and asked that Skelton be recalled and another envoy sent to Holland in his place.

  Mary was saddened by the loss of her dear friends. She had particularly loved Anne Trelawny and when she remembered how they had been allies in the days of Elizabeth Villiers’s ascendancy in the nursery she felt her departure the more.

  For it was useless to pretend Elizabeth was not William’s mistress. William had said that the affair was of little importance, but he continued it. Elizabeth Villiers seemed slyer and more smug than ever; and now that Mary had been forced to face the truth she could not get it out of her mind.

  Why should she endure this? When William was absent she felt very bold; it was only when he was with her that she told herself she must reconcile herself to her fate.

  William had left The Hague for a short visit inland on official business—actually so this time, for Elizabeth Villiers remained in the palace.

  Why should I stand aside while they conduct this intrigue under the very same roof? Mary asked herself. They think that I acted as I did because Anne Trelawny and Mrs. Langford advised me to. They think I have no will of my own.

  They were wrong. Although she longed for ideal relationships, for peace between her father and her husband, she was not afraid to assert her will when she thought it necessary to do so; she would show them this.

  She sent for Elizabeth Villiers.

  Elizabeth stood before her—sly, always sly, and alert, wondering with what she was about to be confronted.

  “I want a very special and important message to be delivered,” said Mary, and her regal manner alarmed Elizabeth.

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Knowing your discretion and intelligence I am giving you the task of delivering it.”

  “Your Highness can be assured that I shall obey you to the best of my ability.”

  “I am sure you will do well what you must.”

  Mary went to her table and picked up a letter which was sealed with her royal seal. A great deal of thought had gone into writing that letter.

  “You should leave at once,” she said; and as she turned to look at her enemy a fierce jealousy struck at her. What had Elizabeth to offer him? She was clever; no one doubted that. But as far as beauty was concerned she was not to be compared with Mary who had been called one of the most beautiful women in Europe, and although royalty was always given more credit for beauty than it deserved, that opinion was not all flattery. It was true that she had put on too much weight but her hair was still abundant, her dark shortsighted eyes, although they were giving her a great deal of trouble, were still attractive.

  And there was Elizabeth with that extraordinary cast; perhaps that was attractive, that, and her wit and her boldness.

  “To whom is the message to be delivered, Your Highness?” asked Elizabeth.

  “To my father.”

  It gave Mary pleasure to see the start of amazement quickly followed by panic.

  “I beg Your Highness’s pardon but … did I understand …”

  “You understood very well,” said Mary. “You surely do not imagine that I would ask you to deliver an ordinary message �
� like a page?”

  “No, but …”

  “I wish you to leave within the hour. You will be taken to the coast where a ship will be found for you. I trust you will have an easy crossing.”

  Mary was sure that never in her life had Elizabeth Villiers been so bewildered. Quite clearly she did not know what to say. William was away from The Hague therefore she could not appeal to him, and in his absence, Mary’s orders must be obeyed without question.

  Two of Mary’s male servants came into the room as they had obviously been commanded to.

  “Everything is ready,” Mary told them. “You will leave immediately.”

  Nonplussed, Elizabeth could do nothing but follow them; Mary stood at her window watching the departure.

  Now all she had to do was await the return of William.

  William was back at The Hague for two days before he discovered Elizabeth’s absence.

  It was Bentinck who told him. The quarrel between them had been mended, and although William had not apologized—that would have been asking too much—he had implied he was no longer displeased, while at the same time he wanted his friend to know that while he respected his advice on matters of state he wanted no interference with his domestic affairs.

  “My sister-in-law has left for England,” Bentinck said.

  For a moment William was so taken off his guard that he expressed bewilderment.

  “She went on orders of the Princess.”

  William still did not speak, and Bentinck waited for the storm.

  It did not come.

  “I wish you to peruse these letters from Celle and give me your opinion.”

  Bentinck bowed his head. His master’s control was admirable, but he wondered what he would do now, and he was sorry for the Princess, although he admired her action.

  Anne Bentinck, advised by her husband to do so, warned Mary that the Prince knew of Elizabeth’s dismissal. Mary waited for his reaction, but there was no sign that he was in the least affected. William might not have been the slightest bit interested in Elizabeth Villiers.

  But inwardly he was deeply disturbed, because he realized that he did not know his wife. When he believed that he had subdued her, she would act in such a way as to confound him. He had been congratulating himself on the manner in which he had handled her discovery of his intrigue. She had seemed meek enough, ready to see it as he wished her to; and then, when he absented himself, she cleverly got rid of Elizabeth. He could imagine what would happen to Elizabeth when she reached England. Mary was clever enough to have arranged that. She was carrying a letter to James. He could picture what was in that letter.