Sarah clenched her hands. “And Monmouth? What of Monmouth?”
“They’ll never accept the bastard.”
“The Protestant Duke!” said Sarah with a sneer. “And William? Those two are said to be friends. Rivals, as Charles once said, for the same mistress. And that mistress is the crown which James now wears.”
“We’ll keep our eyes on The Hague. That’s where the next move will come from.”
“William and Mary! Do you think they’ll make an attempt?”
John shook his head. “Not yet. William’s too clever. James will have to commit himself more deeply before it would be wise for anyone to try to oust him from the throne. The English don’t want a papist King but you know what they are for fair play. They wouldn’t like Mary to take over before her time … unless it was for a very good reason.”
“Mary! They say she does not enjoy good health and William would have no chance without her. And then it would be Queen Morley’s turn. John, do you understand that the day my plump Morley mounts the throne I can rule this country?”
John smiled at her. “I believe you capable of anything, my love. But we must be patient. We must wait … alert. We must first see which way the wind is blowing. It would not do for us to get caught in the coming storm.”
He was wise, she knew. Sarah had no doubt that when the time came they would be on the winning side.
The preparations for the new King’s coronation went smoothly. Anne’s great regret was that she would not be able to attend for she was expecting her child to be born any day.
James had found time to visit her at the Cockpit in spite of all his new duties. He embraced her with great tenderness and told her that she should rejoice to have a King for a father.
“Rest assured,” he said, “that I shall see benefits flow to my beloved daughter.”
That was comforting.
“Dear Father, but look at the size of your daughter! Delighted as I am by my state I am irked that I shall not be able to see you crowned.”
James smiled secretly and later Anne learned that he had ordered that a special closed box be erected in the Abbey from which she should watch the ceremony in the company of her husband.
“You do not imagine,” he said, “that I could allow my dear daughter to be absent on this great day!”
So Anne was in the box with George while the ceremony took place and afterward Mary Beatrice, the new Queen, made a point of visiting her stepdaughter there.
“What do you think of my dress?” asked Mary Beatrice, her lovely dark eyes shining; she was always happy on such occasions because she liked to see honor bestowed on her husband.
“Worthy of a Queen,” declared Anne. “Tell me, how do you feel … now that you are a queen?”
Mary Beatrice looked a little sad. “I should feel happier if I were in your condition.”
“You will be … ere long,” said Anne.
Ten days later Anne’s daughter was born. She seemed healthy and although Anne and her husband had longed for a boy they now declared themselves to be completely delighted.
“Soon she shall have a brother,” George promised Anne; and she was sure he would be proved right.
“I shall call her Mary after my dearest sister,” said Anne. “Poor Mary. I feel so guilty to be happy here in England while she must remain in Holland with Caliban.”
John had returned from a mission to France whither he had gone ostensibly to tell Louis of James’s accession, but actually to attempt to obtain further loans from Louis. This he failed to do, but when he returned there was an opportunity of spending a few weeks with Sarah in the house he had built on the site of that old one near St. Albans where Sarah had spent part of her childhood.
Then came the news that Monmouth had landed in England. And John knew he must return to Court without delay.
“So,” said Sarah, “you will fight for the Catholic against the Protestant?”
John smiled. “This is the King against the bastard,” he said. “Until James changes the religion of this country he is still the King as far as I am concerned.”
Sarah agreed that this must be so.
“We should never bow to Monmouth,” she said. “You will defeat him, John.”
“Feversham will be in command,” John replied sardonically, “and I see that the trouble will be mine but the honor will be his.”
“It shall not always be so,” declared Sarah firmly.
The defeat of Monmouth was due to Churchill, for when the battle of Sedgemoor began Feversham was in bed, having, with many of his cronies, drunk rather heavily, and the command was left to John Churchill who started a strong offensive and secured victory for the King’s men.
Monmouth was discovered in a ditch and brought as prisoner to London. There followed his trial, death on Tower Hill, and the great scandal of Judge Jeffrey’s Bloody Assizes.
That affair was ended and James II was firmly on the throne.
Everyone in England seemed aware of the King’s unpopularity except himself. Like a true Stuart James had an inherent belief in the Divine Right of Kings and it was inconceivable to him that his throne could be threatened by the people. He had had two enemies in his nephew Monmouth and his son-in-law William; now Monmouth was dead and only William remained. He had always disliked William and had never ceased to deplore the fact that his beloved daughter Mary had married him. He himself had been against that marriage, but Charles had insisted on it, pointing out that because William was a Protestant it was more necessary to James than to anyone else, for if James did not allow his daughter to marry a Protestant, Charles believed that the people would insist on excluding him from the succession.
So there had been this Dutch marriage—but he never trusted his son-in-law and what was so heartbreaking was that he believed William was trying to influence his daughter against him.
Rake and libertine that he could not prevent himself being, James had a great desire for a happy family life to which he could retire for a short rest from his mistresses. He had convinced himself that he had enjoyed this for a time with Anne Hyde, the mother of his daughters, and the two girls themselves. He remembered several occasions when they had sat on the floor and played childish games together. He looked back—sentimentalist that he was—with great yearning to that period.
He sincerely loved his daughters. In her childhood Mary had been the favorite, but she was far away and William’s wife, whereas Anne was at hand and he could see her frequently. Moreover he had written to Mary in an endeavor to convert her to Catholicism, and her replies had been cool; she implied that she was firmly Protestant.
William’s wife, he thought sadly, scarcely James’s daughter now.
So he turned to Anne. He increased her allowance, for the dear creature had no money sense at all and in spite of her enormous revenue she was constantly in debt. He enjoyed those occasions when she sought his help; it was a pleasure to see her woebegone face break into a smile when he told her that she could rely on her father to help her in any difficulty.
“You are the daughter of a King now,” he was constantly telling her. “The beloved daughter.”
Anne thought what a pleasure it was to be a sovereign. So much homage; so much adulation. Sarah had grown even closer because that year they had both given birth to daughters: Anne’s Mary and Sarah’s Elizabeth.
Sarah would whisper to her: “And think, dear Mrs. Morley, one day you may be the Queen of England.”