Covell was too astonished to speak and Skelton went on: “Oh, I know you are thinking this is impossible. On the contrary it is not so. There is ample reason why this marriage should be dissolved.”
“You mean the Prince is incapable of getting a son?”
“I mean that he spends his nights with another woman.”
“I understand.”
“The Princess does not seem aware of this.”
“The Princess is not always easy to understand. At times she seems almost childlike; at others her control is astonishing and one feels that she is very wise indeed.”
“I believe that if she were made aware of what is going on behind her back her pride would be wounded. She is a proud woman. Remember she is a Princess. Our first step should be to make sure that she is aware that her husband has a mistress to whom he must be devoted considering she has occupied that position since she came into Holland.”
“Do you wish me to tell the Princess?”
“We must be subtle. Have a word with her women—those you feel will be most likely to put the case to her … as it should be put. I should not ask either of the Villiers sisters to betray the elder one.”
Covell nodded. Skelton was referring to Anne Bentinck and Katherine Villiers, who had married the Marquis de Puissars, and were both in Mary’s service.
“I will have a word with Anne Trelawny,” said Covell. “She loves her mistress dearly and I feel sure she hates the Prince almost as much as His Majesty does.”
“I see you have the right idea,” said Skelton. “Now … let us go into action without delay.”
Covell, who enjoyed intrigue and liked to think he was not too old to indulge in it, immediately sought out Anne Trelawny and as Mrs. Langford was with her, and he knew that lady to be as fiercely against the Prince of Orange as the other, he decided to take them both into his confidence.
He explained the nature of the plot and there was at once no doubt that he would have the assistance of these two.
“I have always said it was monstrous!” declared Mrs. Langford. “My Princess ignored for Squinting Betty!”
“What he sees in her, I can’t imagine,” added Anne. “When I think of my beautiful Lady Mary …”
“See if you can bring what is happening to her notice,” said Covell.
“It should not be difficult,” said Mrs. Langford.
“Sometimes,” added Anne, “I wonder whether she knows and pretends it is not so. That would be like her. I am sure she is too clever not to have discovered it. After all it’s been going on long enough.”
“I don’t know, Squint-eye is clever. Have you noticed since we have been in Holland and she’s been playing the whore how retiring she’s been. She’s never given the Princess any cause to complain about her. Whereas before …”
“Never mind,” said Anne, “the Princess is going to know now.”
Anne was dressing Mary’s hair and Mary said: “You are preoccupied, Anne. Is anything wrong?”
Anne stood still biting her lip. In apprehension Mary glanced at her body, remembering the case of Jane Wroth. Not Anne, surely!
Anne said: “I … cannot speak of it.”
“Nonsense. Not tell me! Come! Out with it.”
“Oh, I get so angry. It is Elizabeth Villiers. How dare she … deceive Your Highness so … and glory in it. There, I’ve said it. It’s been on the tip of my tongue these last six years. Six years! It’s no wonder …”
Mary had turned pale. That which she had forced herself to ignore and refuse to accept was now being thrust at her; and it was a hateful realization that she could not ignore it any longer.
“What are you saying, Anne?”
“What I should have said before. Your Highness does not know. They are so sly. But I hate … hate … hate to see it, and I can’t keep silent any longer.”
“Anne, you are becoming hysterical.”
“I feel hysterical. I have to stand by and see your life ruined. You might have dear little children by now. But how can you? He is never with you … or hardly ever. Something will have to be done.”
Mary called Mrs. Langford. She said: “Help Anne to her bed. I fear she is not well.”
Mrs. Langford came to Mary.
“Your Highness,” she said sorrowfully, “Anne Trelawny has told me what she said and she is afraid you are angry with her. She said it only out of her love for you.”
“I know.”
“Oh, my lady, my dear little lady, it’s true.”
“I do not wish to hear the subject mentioned again.”
“My lady, I’ve nursed you since you were little. I know you are a Princess but you will always be my baby.” Mrs. Langford began to cry. “I cannot bear to see you treated in this way.”
“There is no need for you to be sorry for me.”
“You don’t believe it, do you? You don’t believe he goes to her bed … almost every night. You don’t believe that when he tells you he has state matters to deal with he is there. She is his state matter, the sly squint-eyed whore.”
“You forget yourself.…”
“Oh, my little love, forgive me. But I cannot endure much more of this. Something should be done.”
Mary was silent. It was true. She had always known it. For years she had known it and pretended. No one had ever mentioned it and that had made it easy to live in a world of make-believe. But now they had drawn aside the veil of fantasy and there was the unpleasant and unavoidable truth to be faced.
“You don’t believe it, do you, my Princess?” went on Mrs. Langford. “It wouldn’t be so difficult to prove. They’ve got careless over the years. Over the years! Years of deceit. Think of it. And you longing for babies!”
Years of deceit! thought Mary.
She closed her eyes and saw the little boy who had come to her table to steal sweetmeats. Jemmy had noticed—so had others. They had been sorry for her; and many of them would have said: How she longs for a child; but she is barren. Some say the Prince is impotent. Others that he spends too much time with his squint-eyed mistress.
Hundreds of pictures from the past crowded into her mind. Elizabeth in the nursery—sly hurtful remarks … always making her uncomfortable … an enemy.
And now, William loved her. What was the use of hiding the truth. What was the use of pretending that William was a noble hero when everyone knew he was committing adultery under the same roof as that which sheltered his wife.
Perhaps they were right. Perhaps it was time something was done.
She spent a sleepless night and in the morning she told herself that she must ignore these whispers. She must speak severely to Mrs. Langford and Anne Trelawny.
But it was not easy.
“You don’t believe us,” said Mrs. Langford sadly.
Anne, that dear friend whom she knew had always loved her since their childhood, was bolder. “Your Highness does not want to believe,” she said, “and that is why you will not put us to the test.”
“Put you to the test?”
“Yes. Make sure that we are speaking the truth.”
“How?”
“He goes to her apartment almost every night. You could wait for him to leave it.”
She shook her head.
But she went on thinking about William and Elizabeth. She pictured him, slyly mounting the stairs to the maid of honor’s room, opening the door, Elizabeth waiting … the embrace. Sly Elizabeth! Cold William! What was this attraction between them? Were they laughing at her for being so simple that she had not discovered their deceit?