“Charles … dying!” Mary Beatrice was horrified, vividly picturing her brother-in-law with his dark, smiling face showing her such kindness and understanding on her arrival in England that he had made the future seem just tolerable.
James nodded. He, too, was fond of his brother, but this was no time to indulge in sentimentality.
“You see what this could mean! Charles, dying, and myself in exile. Just the chance Monmouth and his friends are waiting for. I have to go back to England … without delay.”
“But, James, it is forbidden. If you were betrayed they could send you to the Tower.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and smiled at her tenderly. “My dear,” he said, “if this be the end of my brother, I shall be the one who decrees who and who shall not be sent to the Tower.”
“So you are going to England?”
“I am.”
“But James, Charles is not dead. You are not yet King.”
“Have no fear. I shall be disguised and no one will recognize me.”
Mary Beatrice clasped her hands in dismay. This was an end of peace. James was going into danger. And what would happen to them if her dear kind brother-in-law were no longer there to protect them?
She would be Queen of England and James King—but, she asked herself, what would become of them?
A party of five men were riding to the coast. At the head of them was the Duke of York and with him rode John Churchill, Lord Peterborough with Colonel Legge; his barber came on behind.
They spoke little as they rode; every one of them was aware of the need for speed; even now what could they know of what was happening in England? Delay could be disaster.
It took them two days to reach Calais; the first night they spent at Armentières and when they arrived at the coast James bought a black wig and with this hoped he would disguise himself. They found a French shallop and in this crossed to Dover; from there they rode with all speed to London, and went to the house of Sir Allen Apsley in St. James’s Square, where Frances and her father welcomed the party warmly.
“The King still lives,” said Sir Allen, “and indeed is much better. It is well that you have come, but I trust the Monmouth gang are unaware of your arrival.”
“ ’Tis to be hoped so,” said James, “for I must see my brother before my enemies know I am here.”
Frances was longing to ask for news of Mary but this was not the appropriate time. The Duke’s brother-in-law, Laurence Hyde and Sidney Godolphin, came at once when Sir Allen let them know that James had arrived. Both these men occupied high places in the government. Godolphin was now a widower having married Margaret Blagge, the gentle girl who had been reluctant to join the ballet and so upset when she had lost the borrowed jewel; Margaret had died three years after her marriage and Godolphin had never married again. Charles, one of whose favorite ministers he was, had said of him that he had the great quality of “never being in the way and never out of the way.”
These two, being aware of the aspirations of Monmouth, were determined to flout them and on their suggestion James left at once for Windsor to see the King.
Four days after he had left Brussels, James arrived at Windsor. It was nearly seven o’clock when he saw the towers of the castle and he made his way at once to his brother’s apartments where Charles, miraculously recovered, was being shaved.
Charles looked at him, feigned astonishment—but in fact he was well aware that he had been sent for—and then embraced his brother with affection.
“It does me good to see you,” he said. “We are brothers and good friends … nothing should be allowed to part us.”
James expressed his emotion less gracefully but it was more genuine. He was fond of Charles and always would be; and he was sincerely delighted to see him well.
He knelt and begged Charles forgiveness for returning.
“You should be at my side at this time,” said Charles seriously.
James was welcomed by the King’s courtiers but it soon became clear that he would not be allowed to stay. There was a large section of the people who did not want him; the cries of: “The Duke is back. No popery!” were heard again. His enemies were too numerous.
Charles said: “You will have to go away, James. I sometimes fear that if you stay they’ll send me off too.”
“Return to Brussels!” cried James. “Have you an idea what my life is like there?”
“A very good idea. I was once an exile myself in Brussels.”
“Then you will understand that I find it … unbearable.”
“We bear what we must.”
“Is it necessary?”
“For a while James, yes.”
“Then I ask a favor … two favors. Let me go to Scotland where I have friends and where I can feel less of an outcast.”
Charles considered. “It could be arranged,” he said at length.
“And the other favor,” began James.
“I had hoped you had forgotten it. But let us hear what it is.”
“Should Monmouth stay in England while I am in exile?”
Charles looked at his brother wryly.
Reluctantly he agreed that he had a point there.
Monmouth would be sent abroad; and James would return to Brussels to collect his family and then go to Scotland.
Mary missed her family sadly and found it hard to settle down to life without them. William was as brusque as ever and she longed for him to show a little affection toward her. She excused him again and again to herself; he was noble, idealistic, she believed; naturally he had little time to fritter away with a wife when state affairs were such a concern to him. And she was a frivolous young woman who liked to dance, play cards, and playact.
He was unaware of her wistful glances but she began to build up a picture of him as a hero; he was the savior of his country; one day perhaps when she was older and wiser she would be able to share his counsels; that would be a goal to hope for.
There was something else which grieved her. Dr. Hooper and his wife, of whom she was very fond, returned to England. His stay had not been a comfortable one for William disliked him, mainly because he had persuaded Mary to remain faithful to the Church of England and not to join the Dutch Church.
It seemed to Mary when they left that not only had she lost the very dear members of her family but two good friends. In Dr. Hooper’s place came Thomas Kenn, a fiery little man who never hesitated to say what he meant and right from the first he expressed displeasure with William’s treatment of his wife. He was unkind and impolite, said Kenn. And that was no way in which to treat a Stuart Princess.
Mary wished that he would not call attention to William’s attitude when she was just beginning to make herself believe that the unsatisfactory state of her marriage was due to her own inadequacy. She wanted to make a hero of William; it was the only way in which she could find life endurable. She had to love someone because it was her nature to do so. Dear Frances, the beloved husband of fantasy, was so far away; besides, she had a real husband; in her imagination she was building William up into the hero figure, and people like Kenn with their caustic criticism did their best to destroy the dream.
There was another newcomer to The Hague. This was Henry Sidney who replaced Sir William Temple as British envoy; he was a very handsome man, the same who had been over-friendly with Mary’s mother and on account of this had been temporarily banished from the Court by James. Sidney was still unmarried, extraordinarily attractive, and in a very short time had become very friendly with William.
Mary had begun to suffer more alarming attacks of the ague and with the coming of winter these were more frequent, causing her to take to her bed.