William drained his glass. He felt a little light-headed, but Buckingham was at his side.
“Your Highness, this is a happy night for us all …”
Sedley had leaned forward and filled the Prince’s glass. “I see Your Highness is a man who knows how to hold his drink. Now I propose the toast. Victory for His Highness of Orange in all that he endeavors.”
William drained the glass.
He was beginning to feel pleasantly at ease. A warm glow had settled on him; he no longer believed that his companions were laughing at him. Far from it. He felt six feet tall, a man among men; they were his friends, his kind respectful friends. They wanted to please him, Buckingham was telling him. In fact it was the object of this party—in honor of the Prince, to please the Prince.
No one in Holland had ever accorded him such respect; and never had he felt quite as he did on this day.
He was lolling back in his chair. Buckingham was telling him how he had fought a duel with Shrewsbury. It seemed very funny, although William had, only that day when he had been regretting that he had accepted Buckingham’s invitation, recalled that incident with distaste.
Buckingham was talking of his mistresses—familiarly and again amusingly; and he spoke as though William were as knowledgeable in these matters as he was.
Sedley and Rochester joined in, capping each other’s stories. Every now and then one of them would stand and lift his glass, mention a woman’s name and they would all drink. The more William drank of the wine, the more he liked it; and the less sleepy he became. He heard someone laughing uproariously and to his amazement discovered that it was himself.
“His Highness is cleverer than any of us,” said Buckingham.
He liked that. The sense of power was with him. He was cleverer than any of them. He needed to be.
“So solemn. So serious. Ah, but what is he like in my lady’s bedchamber?”
William joined in the laughter.
“Oh, His Highness admits it among his friends.” Buckingham sighed. “Would that I had had the wit to hide my weakness. What a lot of trouble I should have been saved.”
“His Highness could teach us much.”
“Oh, depend upon it.”
“Did you see that pretty maid of honor. The new one. A ripe young virgin, I’ll swear. Not more than sixteen. Ha, I see His Highness is listening intently. I’ll warrant he has already marked her for his own?”
“Seen her, smiled on her! Then what is the betting she is a virgin no more?”
“I’ll take you up there, Sedley.”
“One hundred.”
“Make it two.”
“But how test the truth?”
“I’ll warrant His Highness will tell us how.”
Buckingham bent closer to William. “Your Highness,” he said, “we promised you good sport tonight.”
“Lead me to it,” said William in slurred voice.
The others exchanged glances. The plot was a wild success. Charles was going to laugh at this; and there was nothing that he liked so much as to be amused by the wild adventures of his roystering courtiers. And this one was going to please him more than most. He had said that William was like a eunuch and he often wondered whether those clever de Wittes hadn’t made him one just to make sure of the end of the House of Orange.
Buckingham had countered. “Would Your Majesty wager on the matter?”
“Right gladly,” the King had replied. “And to have it proved that my nephew was indeed a man would give me such pleasure that I’d be willing to be the loser.”
“All in good time. I can see Your Highness is a man who does not like to wait when the urge is on him,” Buckingham was telling William.
All the others were laughing; so was William. They knew him better than he knew himself. They were sure he was a success with women. He thought of Elizabeth Charlotte who had quite clearly wanted the marriage between them far more than he had. His dear friends knew more about him than he knew himself. He would be the greatest ruler in Europe—wise, shrewd, successful in all campaigns—yes, every one he undertook, on the battlefield or in the bedchamber.
“As His Highness is in no mood for waiting, let us be gone,” suggested Sedley.
Buckingham rose and put his fingers to his lips. The others did the same. Then William stood up and he too put his fingers to his lips.
The room reminded him of the ship on which he had crossed to England, so unsteady was the floor. He laughed aloud. He was so happy to be in England because the English understood him as no one in Holland ever had.
Buckingham took one of his arms, Rochester the other, and with exaggerated caution they left the apartment.
“They will be in bed now,” whispered Sedley.
“All the better,” retorted Rochester.
“All locked up securely for the night, chastity belts securely fastened, but His Highness the Prince of Orange will know the password. He will have the key.”
Such laughter—all the more hilarious because it must be suppressed. Buckingham put his fingers to his lips and they all did the same.
William felt the cool air on his face and this was the only intimation he had that he was out of doors. The fresh air revived him a little, made him feel as strong and brave as a lion.
He stood with the group looking at the row of lighted windows.
“How do we get in?” asked Rochester. “My Prince, pray tell us.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” said Buckingham. “Could it be through the windows?”
“Yes,” said William and his voice sounded muffled. “Through the windows.”
Sedley pressed a stone into his hands. “You will lead your men, Sire,” he said.
William had never felt so happy. He forgot that he was smaller than most men, that he suffered from that humiliating asthmatical wheeze, that his clothes had to be cut in a special way to hide his deformities.
He was a leader of men—and not in battles. These rakes of his uncle’s Court, who were noted for their brilliant wit and fascination were looking to him to lead them.
He threw the stone. Laughing triumphantly he scrambled up the wall to the broken window.
There were cries of alarm from within and faces appeared at the windows.
Buckingham’s voice came from a long way off: “His Highness of Orange … a little merry. Looking for the ladies.”
William had seen the girls’ faces and they seemed very fair and inviting. He was irresistible. Buckingham and his friends had said so.
“I’ll not disappoint them,” he cried. “I’m going in.”
The girls began to scream. There were the sounds of shouting and a lantern appeared among the revelers below. Then Buckingham seized the Prince’s legs and pulled him to the ground.
“Your Highness, you are waking the Palace.”
“I will not disappoint them. The maids are waiting for me. I will not disappoint them.”
“Your Highness, we know of your reputation, but you are waking the Palace.”
“I will share the bed of the fairest this night …”
Sedley and Rochester took his legs, Buckingham and Savile his arms, and he was lifted off the ground.
Now he was angry. He no longer cared for these men. They had promised him good sport and now they were standing in his way of getting it. He wanted to seduce a maid of honor. He knew now that he did not find women as uninteresting as he had believed; tonight had been an education and he wanted to complete it.
The governess of the maids of honor had put her head out of the window.
“Disgraceful!” she cried. “Her Majesty the Queen shall hear of this!”
“Madam,” answered Buckingham, “we have done all we can to restrain His Highness. We fear he is a desperate fellow where the ladies are concerned.”
“Then take him away from here,” was the answer. “Rest assured he will have to answer to Her Majesty.”