“A union with the lady would be very agreeable to me,” he murmured.
William nodded dismissal. That was one matter settled. That would quieten gossip; and when he was in Holland Elizabeth should come to him and it would be almost as it had been in the old days.
It became clear to William that it was a mistake to think that he could afford to flout Anne. No matter how many victories he might win abroad, to the English he was still a foreigner, and they resented a foreign King. Yet when Anne was carried out in her chair they cheered her; they looked upon her as the heiress to the throne and on Gloucester as her successor. He could not hope for a peaceful existence while he was outwardly not on good terms with her.
He renewed his promise of St. James’s Palace and this time Anne was able to move in. Then he made a gesture which gave Anne more pleasure than anything else could have done.
Lord Strafford, Knight of the Garter, died; and William wrote to Anne to say that it would give him the greatest pleasure to bestow the vacant ribbon on his nephew.
Anne went at once to her son’s apartment where he was having breakfast. In spite of her excitement she was shocked to see that Lewis was sitting beside him spooning the food into his mouth.
“That,” she said, “is no way for a Prince to eat. Lewis, stop it at once.”
“Your Highness it is the only way in which we can induce him to eat.”
Anne looked at her son with the familiar mingling of pride and terror. She had lost the last child as she had all the others, and Gloucester was her great hope. And he did not like food when his father and mother had such a delight in it! Was it a sign of delicate health?
“My boy,” she said, “do you not like the food which is prepared for you?”
He considered this and said: “I like crumbs on the table but I do not care much for food on plates.” He then wet his finger and picked up some of the crumbs about the table.
“You eat like a chicken,” she said.
“Oh, Mama, I am a chick of the game.”
His bright eyes, his quick smile were enchanting. Oh God, she prayed, preserve my darling. Keep him well. Take anything from me but leave me my precious boy.
“I have good news for you. You are to have the Garter.”
His eyes shone with pleasure. “The Garter. But I have long wanted it and do you know, Mama, Harry Scull dreamed he saw me wearing it. Pray, Lewis, bring Harry to me without delay. I must tell Harry.”
Back to Campden House came Gloucester, eyes brilliant with triumph, wearing the blue ribbon. He paraded before his parents telling them about the ceremony. “There were eleven knights with the King,” he said. “William knighted me with the sword of state and then put the ribbon on me with his own hands, and that, Papa—are you listening Mama?”
“To every word, my dearest.”
“Well that is most unusual, for one of the knights usually does it, but William wanted to do it for me. It was a special occasion. I am a favorite of his.”
“Well, you are an heir to the throne.”
“Yes, but it is a most unusual thing to be a favorite of the King’s, Mama.”
Anne exchanged glances with her husband. How could anyone help but make him a favorite? she was asking.
“Now may I go to my men. They are all anxious to see me in the Garter. I shall always wear it … until the day I die.”
“We will not speak of that,” said Anne sharply; and George laid a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.
They were silent, listening to Gloucester’s voice shouting orders to his soldiers.
It had been wonderful to see the boy wearing the ribbon, but the mention of his death could plunge them both into deepest melancholy.
There was a visitor for the Princess Anne. This was John Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave. Anne could never see him without remembering that love affair of her youth when she and John Sheffield had planned to marry. She still remembered the poems he had written to her. He had been sent away on her account and she had been given her dear George who was the best of husbands; but that did not mean she had not still a tender spot for Sheffield.
He was handsome; he was an excellent poet; and she believed he was at heart a Jacobite, for he had remained loyal to James longer than most men.
“My lord,” she said, “it does me good to see you.” He kissed her hand with a lingering tenderness. He was married and so was she, but memories lingered.
“I came to congratulate you on the Duke’s honor.”
“It was good of you.”
“I thought you would like to hear an account from an eye witness. I never saw the like. One would have thought he was a mature man. Such dignity! Such grace!”
“He is a most unusual boy.”
“Which is only to be expected.”
Their eyes met. He was thinking: He might have been ours. And if he had, she wondered, would he have been stronger? She compared John with George. Poor George, who was so fat and ineffectual; and John, tall, handsome, a man who would leave his mark on the world with his literary achievements and his parliamentary career.
“My lord,” she said, “I would that you would watch over the Duke. Sometimes I feel that his education is not in the best hands. His mind is so alert; he picks up such odd pieces of information. And we find it so difficult to make him eat nourishing food. His servants feed him … to entice him. It causes me anxiety.”
“If Your Highness would wish me to keep an eye on the boy …”
“It is what I do wish. I can trust you as I can few people. Will you do this?”
“With all my heart.”
She sat smiling to herself after he had gone. It was pleasant to sit dreamily contemplating what might have been. She could do this without heartbreak. She had her dear husband, her beloved boy, her hopes of inheriting the throne; but romance was sweet.
Sarah came in and found her thus.
“Mulgrave was here, so I learn.”
“Why yes.”
“And what did he want?”
“He came to tell me how my boy conducted himself at the ceremony. Why, Mrs. Freeman, he said that the child behaved like a mature man. I do not think there is another boy in the world to compare with him and that is the truth.”
“My young John must come to be his companion. I am sure they would be good for each other.”
“It shall be so. John Sheffield is a charming man, I think.”
Sarah grunted. “Not much guts I’d say. Remember how he fled at the first sign of trouble?”
“He did not fly. He was sent away to Tangier by my uncle.”
“Some men would have refused to go.”
“Refused to go? Refused the King’s command?”
“Some would have found a way.”
Sarah did not notice the slightly sullen expression about Anne’s mouth, nor the hint of firmness in her voice as she said: “He is going to superintend the Duke’s education.”
“What?” cried Sarah.
Anne had turned away, murmuring: “Oh, not in an official capacity, of course, but I confess I shall be glad to have such an excellent man at hand.”
What of Marlborough? thought Sarah, with difficulty suppressing her anger. If the Duke was to have a Governor naturally it should be Lord Marlborough. But at least Sheffield had not been offered the post officially.
Marlborough should have it, decided Sarah. And I shall see that he gets it.
The Princess Anne was preparing to leave for Windsor Castle. William had been unusually gracious. Not being content with seeing her installed in St. James’s Palace, he offered her Windsor Castle in which to spend the summer with her husband and their son.
Having seen Anne’s interest in John Sheffield, Sarah had decided that if she could do nothing for her husband it was time she brought her son forward, and before they left for Windsor she suggested to Anne that the little Duke should have some boys, near his own age and rank, to play with.