The Three Crowns: The Story of William a - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,23

me in very truth, she thought; and somehow the knowledge made her the more sorrowful.

“The light is the Holy Catholic Faith, James. Do not ignore it,” she entreated.

He told her that he loved her; that he had never regretted the decision he had made when all his family were against him. They would be together now … for the time that was left to them.

“Together in mind and body, James?” she asked.

“In all things,” he answered.

The Duchess and Duke came frequently to Richmond. They wanted, they said, to be together with their children.

Mary was horrified to find that her feelings had changed toward them. She could no longer relax happily in her father’s arms. When he took her on to his knee she could not help thinking of Margaret Denham who had died because of him. It was complicated and difficult to understand, but it was repellent. Her mother had changed. She had become grotesquely fat; her face was the color of uncooked pastry; and with her bloodshot eyes she was not an attractive sight. Mary could not help comparing her with some of the beautiful women she saw frequently.

Sometimes her father would declare that they were all going to be happy together. He would tell her, Anne and poor little Edgar, who was growing more weak every day, stories of his past; but somehow they no longer fascinated as they once had. Mary was beset by doubts that they were only true in part; that if one could look into them with the farsighted eyes of an adult one would discover something unpleasant.

One day the Duchess sent for Mary, and when she went to her apartments the little girl found her mother lying on her bed. Her face was sallow and the sight of her propped up on pillows with her hair falling loose about her shoulders made Mary want to glance away.

She took Mary’s hand and bade her sit on the bed so that they could be close.

“You are the eldest of the family,” she said. “Always remember that.”

“Yes, mother.”

“There is one thing I want you always to do for me. Look after Anne.”

“But …”

“I know you are thinking that you are only a little girl and that you have your father and me, but I am thinking of the future when we may not be here.”

Mary’s face puckered. “You are going away?”

“No, my dearest child, not now. I am thinking of the time ahead when perhaps it will be necessary for you to be a mother to your little sister and brother. You will, won’t you?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Come and kiss me. It will seal our bargain.”

Mary hid her repulsion and solemnly kissed her mother.

Elizabeth Villiers saw Mary leaving her mother’s apartment. She looked at her slyly as though to suggest that she knew what had taken place. How could she? Mary asked herself. But she was beginning to believe that Elizabeth Villiers knew a great deal.

When they were alone together Elizabeth whispered: “Are you going to be one?”

Mary did not understand.

“It won’t be allowed,” Elizabeth went on virtuously. “We won’t let you … even if you want to.”

“I don’t understand you?”

Elizabeth put her lips close to Mary’s ear. “Your mother’s one. They are all saying so. They’re wicked. They all go to hell. That’s where your mother’s going.”

Mary was horrified. Had her mother not suggested that she was going away?

“Yes,” said Elizabeth, “they frizzle like a sheep on the spit. The good angels turn them round to make sure they get thoroughly brown on all sides. That’s what happens in hell and they all go there.”

“You’re … hateful.”

“Because I tell you the truth?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you know anything?”

“Yes,” said Mary, “I know I hate you.”

“You mustn’t hate. You go to hell for hating.” Elizabeth made the movement of turning a sheep on a spit and there was an ecstatic light in her eyes.

“Stop it,” said Mary.

“That doesn’t stop. It goes on for eternity, and you know that means forever and ever … amen.”

Mary turned to go but Elizabeth caught her arm. “We won’t have Catholics here,” she said. “Your mother’s one. She tries to hide it but everybody … except you … knows it.”

Mary wrenched her arm free of her tormentor, and as she ran from her, heard Elizabeth’s taunting laughter.

She was puzzled and uneasy.

The King had heard the rumors of his sister-in-law’s conversion and guessed that James was following her lead; he himself favored the Catholic faith and would have proclaimed this fact