“This way. Bring him here. Hurry, men.”
“What the …” gasped Mr. Hughes as his legs and arms were seized by small hands and he was dragged to the floor; for small as his attackers were, they were numerous and they swarmed over him.
“Over here,” was the order. “This way. We’ll teach him to make stiff stays.”
“Help me!” cried Mr. Hughes, so bewildered that he could not imagine what was happening to him.
A voice said: “Your Highness, what is this?”
“My men are in control,” was the answer.
“It’s Mr. Hughes, the tailor. Why Mr. Hughes, what has happened to you then?”
Mr. Hughes gasped his thankfulness to hear the voice of his friend and fellow Welshman, Lewis Jenkins.
“I do not know. These … imps fell on me as I came into the hall.”
“We are taking him to the wooden horse,” said a high pitched voice. “He is to be punished for making stiff stays that hurt.”
“Mr. Hughes,” said Lewis Jenkins, “get you up then, man. Now stand away, you boys.”
“They take orders from none but me.”
“The wooden horse, Mr. Hughes, man, is the punishment they use for soldiers who disobey. Take no notice. Mr. Hughes is not one of Your Highness’s men.”
“He makes stays that hurt. They’re hurting me now.”
“Why don’t you ask him to remake them for Your Highness. That would be more sensible than this game you’re playing.”
Mr. Hughes was on his feet, but hands still pulled at his clothes. He said: “I’m sorry the stays are too tight, Your Highness. You must allow me to alter them.”
“You can alter them?” asked the Duke.
“Certainly, Your Highness. I can make them so that you won’t feel you’re wearing stays at all, and would have done so, had you asked me.”
“Men … dismiss!” cried Gloucester. “Mr. Hughes, to my apartments quick … march.”
So Gloucester went off with the tailor and in a short time the stays had been altered to fit comfortably.
Lewis Jenkins laughed at the affair with his fellow attendants. “He’ll get what he wants, that little one,” he commented, and it struck him that they were fortunate to be in the service of the Duke of Gloucester. It was time he was acknowledged the Prince of Wales, for the more honors that befell him, the more they would all benefit.
THE END OF A LIFE
Mrs. Lundy, daughter of Robert Lundy, who had been Governor of Londonderry, where he had served with little distinction, and had betrayed William and deserted the town during the siege—smiled at Elizabeth Villiers and wondered why the woman was being so gracious to her.
“You have great influence with my lord Shrewsbury,” said Elizabeth, “and I can well understand that.”
Mrs. Lundy, a vain and pretty woman, laughed. “He’s an obstinate devil,” she said, “once he has made up his mind.”
“What man is not?” asked Elizabeth. “But sometimes—nay, often—it is possible to use a little gentle persuasion.”
“You think Shrewsbury would listen to me?”
“If he would not listen to you he would listen to no one.”
That pleased the woman; she tossed her head. No doubt she was proud of her conquest, for Shrewsbury was reckoned to be a fascinating man. He had a damaged eye which some people found repulsive; yet that seemed but to add to his attractions where others were concerned. Elizabeth herself knew the value of some slight imperfection and how it could be turned to an asset.
She must get Shrewsbury to take office. William would be so delighted if she did; and she was eager to bind him closer and closer to herself.
“A Dukedom. That is worth having,” went on Elizabeth. Surely, she implied, you would rather be the mistress of a Duke than an Earl? As the mistress of a King, Elizabeth could show that the rank of one’s lover was of the utmost importance.
“He doesn’t seem to care for titles.”
“He is well equipped in that direction,” added Elizabeth. “But I have yet to know the man who was not ready to take a little more. I’ll warrant you will make him do as you wish.”
Mrs. Lundy was not at all sure that it was her wish; but Elizabeth was subtly convincing her that it was.
Well, Mrs. Lundy was thinking, Secretary of State, a Duke … that was rather pleasant. And the King—and the Queen—would know that it was Mrs. Lundy who had persuaded that obstinate man to change his mind. They ought then to be very respectful toward Mrs. Lundy.
“I will talk to him,” she said.
“I know you will succeed,” Elizabeth assured her.
* * *
Gloucester was suffering from the ague and his mother was frantic with anxiety until she remembered that a Mr. Sentiman used to make up a prescription of brandy and saffron which he claimed would cure any sort of ague. Anne’s uncle, Charles II, had dabbled in the making of medicines and she had heard him recommend this prescription. So Anne immediately sent for Mr. Sentiman.
The mixture was brought to Gloucester who, protesting, took it. It cured his ague but made him so ill that his parents feared he was on the point of death.
Anne sat on one side of his bed, George on the other.
“He must not die,” whispered Anne brokenheartedly, and George came to stand at her side and place one of his fat hands on her shoulder. Dear comforting George, who loved the boy even as she did. Gloucester looked weakly from one to the other and smiled faintly.
“You must not fret so, Papa and Mama,” he said. “I shall get better soon. I have to drill the men I intend to offer the King to go to Flanders with him.”
Then he closed his eyes and slept.
He was right; he did improve.
It was a glorious day when Anne and George knew that he was out of danger.
“He should be proclaimed Prince of Wales,” said Anne.
George shook his head, meaning that it would not be wise.
“Mary is fond of him; she gives him almost everything he asks for. I think sometimes she would give everything she has for a son like our boy. George, I have just thought of something. The Duke of Hamilton has died. Does that convey anything to you?”
“No, my dear, only that the Duke of Hamilton is dead.”
“He had the Garter.”
“It’s true,” said George.
“A blue ribbon vacant. Why not for our boy?”
“It should be his. Why not?”
* * *
“My lord Shrewsbury to see Your Majesty.”
“Pray tell him to come to me at once.”
Mary was pleasurably excited as always by this man.
He came to her and bowed low. What was it about him that reminded her of her youth in Holland when she had danced with Monmouth? He was not in the least like Monmouth—he had far more to commend him. He was more serious. Poor Monmouth had tried to snatch at office and had lost his head in doing so, and Shrewsbury had been remarkably shy in taking it.
“I hope, my lord,” said Mary, flushing slightly, “that you have come to give me the news I shall best like to hear.”
“Your Majesties have been most gracious to me, most complimentary.”
“I know the King desires you to take office. There are few men here whom he can trust.”
“I once heard it said to him that there was no one in England who could be trusted and he replied, ‘Yes, there are men of honor in England, but alas, they are not my friends.’ ”
Mary nodded. “In his great wisdom he knew that to be true. You, my lord, are one whom he would trust; and if I could write to him and tell him that you have accepted office that would be the best news he could have.”
“It is my desire to serve Your Majesties.”
Mary gave a little cry of pleasure and laid her hand on his arm, then flushing still deeper, removed it.
“I am so delighted that you have made this decision.”
They looked at each other intently. He was suspected of being a Jacob
ite; but he was also a man of honor. Perhaps he had refused office because he had no wish to serve against the King to whom he had once sworn allegiance. This taking of office, in the case of a man like Shrewsbury, must mean that he had accepted the revolution, that he had decided that it was impossible to attempt to bring back James and would work therefore for William and Mary.
William was right. There were few men of honor who had been his friends. If they had been men of honor they would not readily have deserted the old King in favor of the new. That was why William had had to look for his friends among Dutchmen.
But Shrewsbury was a man they knew they could trust, and the Queen felt a mingling of relief, delight—and excitement.
* * *
Gloucester was preparing to visit the Queen; he had recovered from the ague and was as full of vitality as ever. He looked like an odd little man in his white camlet suit with the silver thread decorations and he was pleased now because Mr. Hughes had taken most of the stiffness out of his stays.
His mother put a blue ribbon over his shoulders and stood back to admire the effect.
“But what is that?” he asked.
“Do you not like it?”
“Soldiers don’t wear them.”
“Ah, yes they do, if they are honored enough.”
“I have never seen a soldier in a blue ribbon.”
“It is the ribbon of the Garter.”
“A garter, worn there …”
“They have a garter too.”
“Where is it?”
“You haven’t got that yet. It has to be given by the Queen. Perhaps when she sees how that blue ribbon becomes you she will give you one.”
Gloucester was not greatly impressed, but was always pleased to visit his aunt; and when he was with her he forgot about the blue ribbon for she did not mention it either.
Mary had noticed it though and understood the implication. Anne wanted her to bestow the Garter on her nephew.
She would have liked to do so, for nothing pleased her better than bestowing honors on the little boy; but she had already made up her mind who was to have the vacant Garter.
A Dukedom was not enough for one whom she admired, as she did Shrewsbury; and the Garter should be his.
* * *
“So it is the Garter for Shrewsbury!” cried Sarah. “A Dukedom and the Garter!”
“She knew that I wanted the Garter for my boy.”
“You can want all you like. She can’t do enough for that man. You can guess why, Mrs. Morley.”
“You don’t mean …”
“What else? I have heard that she starts and blushes every time he comes into the room. Well, you can’t wonder at it when you consider Caliban. And what of the Villiers woman too! Naturally the Queen wants a little fun.”
“As you say considering Caliban …”
They laughed together, Anne a little bitterly because she was furious that Gloucester had been denied the Garter.
“You know what Jack Howe says …” went on Sarah.
“Pray tell me.”
“You know, Mrs. Morley, that Jack Howe was dismissed from the Queen’s service, but he knew much of what went on there and he said that if William died she would go so far as to marry Shrewsbury.”
“He is supposed to be handsome, Mrs. Freeman, but that eye of his is so repulsive.”
“William has Squint-eyed Betty and you know the Queen thinks William has such good taste.”
It was like Sarah to be able to make her laugh when she was feeling so miserable about the loss of Gloucester’s Garter.
“Oh, Mrs. Freeman, do you believe this?”
“I do,” said Sarah.
More than that she was determined that others were going to believe it too.
* * *
Mary wondered whether the child had expected to have the Garter; she guessed that there would be a good deal of light chatter when his mother was about; and his ears were alert for everything that was said. She feared he might be disappointed and therefore decided that she would give him a present instead.
She had a beautiful bird in a cage brought to her; it was of a rare species and the same blue colors as the Garter.
Surely a bird would be more exciting to a child who could not understand the honor implied.
When Gloucester next came to see her she received him with great affection, complimented him on his glowing looks and asked how the army was progressing. He delighted to tell her that his men were shaping well and when they were ready he intended to offer them to the King.
Mary assured him that the King would be delighted.
“And now I have a present for you,” she said.
He looked pleased; he was certain that she was going to offer him a blue ribbon. He had heard so much talk about the Garter between his parents that he had begun to regard it with awe and look forward to the day he would wear it over his uniform. All his soldiers must be told in advance that it was a great honor and they must have a special field day to mark the occasion.
So when the Queen’s woman brought in a bird in a cage he was taken aback.
“There!” said Mary. “Is that not a beautiful creature.”
Gloucester regarded the bird intently. “Yes, it is a beautiful creature,” he said.
“I knew you would like it. How much more beautiful than a Garter.”
He looked stonily at the cage.
“I will give it to you,” said Mary. He bowed courteously but distantly.
“Madam,” he said very distinctly, “I would not rob Your Majesty of the creature.”
Then to the astonishment of the Queen he began to talk of other matters.
* * *
Sarah had been talking to Princess Anne when suddenly she rose and throwing open a door found Mrs. Pack standing very close to it.
“Ah, Mrs. Pack, I expected to find you there!”
“Did you?” said Mrs. Pack, for the moment abashed.
“Oh, yes. A favorite spot of yours.” Sarah smiled and then let her expression become grim. She shut the door with a bang and went back to the Princess.
“There we have our spy,” she said. “I have told you before, Mrs. Morley, that you should suspect her.”
“I wish she would go.”
“You wish she would go? But in this household your wishes are law.”
“My boy has an affection for her.”
“He cares for nothing but his soldiers. Give him a few more to drill and order about and he’ll gladly exchange Mrs. Pack for them.”
To order about? thought Anne. Sarah liked to order people about.
She dismissed the thought at once; it was so unfair to Sarah who thought only of her comfort. But what to do about this Mrs. Pack? The woman was a spy for the Queen. There would always be spies. If you were rid of one, others took their places. That was why Barbara Fitzharding had remained. She was a good governess to Anne’s boy even though she did report everything to her sister. There must always be spies.
“Pack must pack,” said Sarah facetiously.
But Anne shook her head. “My boy wouldn’t like that. Remember she fed him. I shall never forget the day she came to the nursery. Dear Mr. Morley and I were breaking our hearts because we thought we were going to lose our boy.”
“My dear Mrs. Morley, because Pack was a good wet nurse that does not mean that she should be allowed to spy on your household.”
“The boy is fond of her.”
“Then you will not let her go?”
“I do not care to make a hasty decision on such a matter.” Sarah was quite obviously angry, but Anne was firm.
* * *
It was Mrs. Pack who made the decision. She had been found out and she guessed her usefulness was at an end. She told the Queen what had happened and Mary gave Mr. Pack a place in the Custom House which Mrs. Pack gratefully accepted on his behalf. Then Mrs. Pack addressed herself to Anne.
“Madam,” she said, “I am begging leave to retire as the Duke is now growing
too old for a nurse and I find my health failing me.”
Anne was pleased. This gave her an opportunity of pleasing Sarah without upsetting a woman to whom she must always be grateful, so she settled an annuity of forty pounds a year on Mrs. Pack who went to join her husband and family at Deptford.
It was true that Mrs. Pack’s health was not as good as it had once been; and the Deptford air did not suit her as Kensington had.
Only a few weeks after she had left she caught the small pox.
The Duke of Gloucester who had been distressed when she left was even more so when he heard that she was ill. He wanted to visit her, but when this was forbidden, he sent messengers each day to inquire for her health.
He was noticeably less exuberant than he had been; and the attendants said that there was a closeness between a wet nurse and a child she had suckled which nothing could break.
* * *
The Duke of Gloucester stood staring disconsolately out of the window. Several of his attendants noticed that he had been quiet that day.
Mrs. Wanley, one of the women of the household, asked him if he were feeling ill.
“No,” he told her; and continued to stare out of the window.
There was something odd about the child, yet at the same time lovable. He was so grown up in his mind and yet so physically delicate. Everyone in the household was constantly on the watch for a cold or an ague or fever.
“I know what,” said Mrs. Wanley; “you miss Mrs. Pack. You haven’t been the same since she went.”
He did not answer and she went on: “Poor Mrs. Pack. I always said the Deptford air wasn’t to be compared with this at Kensington. Why, she hadn’t been there a week when she took this small pox. Mind you, I haven’t heard that she’s got it badly …”
Gloucester said slowly: “Mrs. Pack will die tomorrow.”
Then he walked slowly out of the room.
Mrs. Wanley staring after him, murmured: “Lord have mercy on us!” and then shrugged her shoulders.
Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II Page 29