The Three Crowns: The Story of William a - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,119

mistaken.”

He looked at her sharply. Was that irony? No, her smile was deprecating; she was begging to be taken back in favor.

He relented very slightly. “Because this man is your father you are inclined to see him as he is not. You should write to him and say that you can do nothing, for the Prince is your husband and your master and you are therefore obliged to obey him.”

“Yes, William,” she said meekly.

“In all things,” he added.

Monmouth was prepared to spend the winter at The Hague. James wrote furiously to his nephew; William ignored his letters; instead he gave orders to his wife.

“I wish you to entertain the Duke of Monmouth. There is no reason why we should not give a ball. Please see to it.”

Mary was delighted. A ball! It would be like old times. “Yet how shall we know the latest dances?” she cried. “But Jemmy will know them. I must have a new gown.”

William eyed her sardonically. She had not grown up as much as he had thought. Now she looked like that girl who had delighted him when he had first seen her—vivacious, gay, a typical Stuart, as he was not, perhaps because he was half Dutch. Mary was like her uncle Charles in some ways and to see her and Monmouth together made one realize the relationship between them.

They were two handsome people. Monmouth had always been startlingly attractive and so was Mary now that she was in good health and preparing to lead the kind of life she had enjoyed in England.

She was beginning to believe that this was one of the happiest times of her life. William was growing closer to her and allowing her to share confidences; she knew what was going on in England and every day there would be a conference between them. How she would have enjoyed these if her father’s name was not constantly brought into the discussions and she was expected to despise him! But since she was beginning to believe the stories she heard of her father’s follies, even that did not seem so bad.

Then there was Henrietta—what a dear friend she had become! Monmouth declared that she was his wife in the eyes of God and although Mary had loved the Duchess of Monmouth dearly, she had to accept Henrietta; for Henrietta was not the frivolous girl who had danced in Calista but was a serious woman with a deep purpose in life which was to give Monmouth all he desired and to live beside him for the rest of her life. Henrietta’s feelings for Monmouth were like those Mary held for William. They were two women determined to support their men.

Then there was Jemmy himself. It was impossible not to be gay in Jemmy’s company. Whatever great events were pending, Jemmy had always time to play. He could dance better than anyone else and he was very fond of his dear cousin, Mary.

She believed that he understood her feeling for William and that he was sorry for her. She did not resent pity from him because she was so fond of him, and because she felt so close to him that she could accept from him what she could not from almost anyone else.

There were times when his beauty and grace enchanted her; when she saw him and Henrietta together she found herself thinking that Henrietta must be the luckiest woman in the world. She looked forward to those evenings when Jemmy taught her the new dances.

“Do you remember Richmond?” she asked him.

And he smiled at her and said: “I shall never forget dancing with you at Richmond.”

Again she caught herself comparing William with Monmouth; and she stopped that at once.

They are so different! she assured herself. Each admirable in his way.

Then more severely: William is the idealist. He would never have indulged in all the pranks Jemmy indulged in. Jemmy was wild in his youth as William would never be. Jemmy might be handsome and charming but it was William who was the great leader.

She thought of Jemmy’s wild past, how again and again his father had stepped in to save him from disgrace and disaster. She remembered poor Eleanor Needham who had left court when she was seduced by him and about to bear his child. Now she had five of his children; the Duchess had six and Henrietta two. Thirteen children that she knew of and there were probably others—and she had not one. How could she possibly compare William