‘Do you think another attempt will be made?’
‘I am sure of it. The names of the French party are known to us all, but we cannot be certain who is the main actor, the driving force.’
‘I am told Lord Arlington has no love of us,’ I suggested.
Compton smiled a thin, humourless smile. ‘Lord Arlington is in favour of the match, but opposed to anyone but Lord Arlington arranging it.’
‘If not him, then who?’
Compton pondered a moment. ‘It might be the Duke of Buckingham.’
‘I have not seen him.’
‘He is currently not in favour at court. The man is appallingly immoral, openly keeping a mistress in his house while his wife was there, fighting duels and treating with the French. I do not doubt that he might bribe an official or two to be kept apprised of what is going on. And he is no lover of your country, though he once made suit to the Princess of Orange.’
‘The Stadhouder’s mother?’
‘Yes. In his defence, she was a widow at the time. And still in mourning, I believe, though that would hardly hold Buckingham back.’
I was shocked. I ought not to have been, but these unsavoury revelations of life in high circles were a complete surprise to me. I had always thought that our betters were models of decorum. Well, if not models, then at least quite discreet about their misbehaviour.
‘Then there is Sir Jasper Hollyoake.’
‘Have I met him?’ I stammered, fearful of showing my ignorance.
‘Sir Jasper would take care that you should not see him,’ Compton explained. ‘He is the eyes of the French ambassador, lurking in the shadows and observing all that passes so that it may be relayed to his sponsors. This seems to me to be too bold an act for Hollyoake, but perhaps those with whom he associates have some part in it.’
I was beginning to feel that threats existed on every side, only to find that Compton had not finished yet.
‘Sir Toby Roade is another possibility. He has no special love for the French, but he has a hatred for the Dutch ever since he lost two sons in the war against your nation. I did not see him about the court today.’
The carriage drew up at the front of St James’ Palace, and we alighted and smoothed ourselves down. Compton led the way, and in very little time we found ourselves conducted to a large, bright room where a young woman was standing looking out of the window. As we entered, she turned and walked towards us.
I had heard that Princess Mary was tall, but it was still a surprise to see a woman taller than I was. I realised after a few moments that she was wearing shoes with heels, but even so, she was a tall girl — and not yet fully grown!
Like many a tall woman, she was not graceful, her stride being too long, and when she presented her hand for kissing I thought briefly that she meant to slap us.
‘Will you sit, gentlemen?’ she said.
We took our places, I slightly to the fore so that Compton could discreetly murmur a translation for any English word I did not comprehend. The Princess rang a little bell and servants appeared with a pot and some small dishes in which we were served tea, this being the fashionable drink of ladies at the English court.
‘Have you drunk tea before, Master?’ she asked.
‘No, ma’am. I have seen it once in Amsterdam.’
‘It is a great favourite of my aunt Catherine’s.’
It took me a little while to realise that she was speaking of the Queen, Catherine of Braganza. I learned later that the Queen favoured tea over any other drink despite — or perhaps because of — its great expense.
I sipped at the warm liquid. It was not unpleasant, though I cannot say that I would impoverish myself to buy a pound of the stuff. It is made of dried leaves brought from China which, I suppose, explains its high price.
I am not made for parlour talk and hoped that we would soon move to more comfortable matters. Fortunately, the Princess was admirably direct.
‘My father tells me that you are to examine me upon my faith, sir, and I hope you will not find me lacking in zeal for the Protestant religion.’
The reader will understand that I felt ambivalent about that point, since I was a Roman Catholic myself, albeit clothed as a Reformed minister.
I asked her some questions as if she were a child at a Catechism class, and she answered well. It was obvious that she was a young woman of some accomplishments. She was not, perhaps, pretty, though she might be accounted vivacious. Her brow was high and broad, and she had dark eyes that displayed intelligence in their quick movements.
‘May I ask you, ma’am, what you think are the duties of a good wife?’ I asked.
It was immediately clear that she had not been schooled to answer this question, and she looked pleadingly at Compton, who merely smiled encouragingly back at her.
‘Why, sir, to be her husband’s dutiful support in all things; to keep his house, to bear his children, to tend to any of his wants.’
‘And could you do this for Prince William, my master?’
She grasped her dress tightly in one hand as if willing herself not to say something. ‘My noble cousin is a fine and serious young man, I believe. I am told I could not have a better husband.’
‘But what do you think of marrying him?’ I pressed.
There was an awkward silence.
‘I am my father’s dutiful daughter in all things,’ she replied at length.
‘Are you saying you are marrying him only because your father desires it?’
‘What other reason does a daughter need, sir?’
I left the matter there and asked how she felt about living in my homeland.
‘My place is at my husband’s side, wherever he may be.’
‘I must tell you plainly, ma’am, that the Dutch court is not as gay as this one.’
Her forced smile faded. Holding a small napkin to her mouth, she rose abruptly to her feet. ‘Will you excuse me a moment, gentlemen?’ she asked, and left the room as quickly as she could without breaking into a sprint. The door closed behind her, and in the quiet we could hear sobbing.
‘Don’t take it as a bad sign,’ Compton told me cheerfully. ‘When the Duke of York told her she might be marrying Prince William, she cried for two days without ceasing. She doesn’t do that now. Well, not as much, anyway.’
‘But why is the Duke agreeing to it if he knows it will make his daughter unhappy?’
‘If the Duke were a private gentleman, he would not entertain it. He is very fond of his girls. When they were small, he was often to be found on his knees playing with them. But first, he is the King’s obedient subject. He believes that the King is anointed by God and that therefore his every command is to be obeyed. But the Duke is not popular in this land. Too many people are suspicious of his Catholicism and think he means to overturn our Reformation. Marrying his daughter to a staunch Protestant such as your master would demonstrate that whatever his private beliefs, he does not intend the conversion of the whole country with all the turmoil and distemper that would bring. I think he has been brought to believe that his peaceful assumption of the throne when his brother dies depends on such a match.’
That might be true, but it did not seem to me to be a good reason for marrying off your daughter.
CHAPTER SIX