The Three Crowns: The Story of William a - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,39
“Your Majesty, then there is but one thing to be done. The marriage must never be consummated.”
“You cannot be asking me to deprive these two people of so much anticipated pleasure—and one my own brother!”
“Your Majesty, I fear the reaction of the people.”
“You must not be so fearful, my lord. This is a matter for the Duke. He is pleased with his marriage and a man of his kind needs a wife. Let him enjoy her.”
“A popish marriage will not please the people, Your Majesty,” insisted Shaftesbury. “But since it is an accomplished fact, should not the Duke of York retire from Court to live as a country gentleman?”
“I do not think this would be gracious welcome to his bride. I am also of the opinion that to ask the Duke of York to retire to the country would be an insult to the King’s brother.”
There was a gleam of rare anger in the King’s eyes which caused Shaftesbury to retire hastily.
The mist hung on the trees in the gardens of Richmond Palace. It seeped into the apartments where Mary bent over her needlework. Very soon all the children would assemble in one of the gardens to see the burning of the effigy of Guy Fawkes, and the Pope, because this was the Fifth of November—the anniversary of that day when Mary’s great-grandfather and his Parliament might so easily have become victims of the Great Gunpowder Plot. It was celebrated each year, more some said because the people liked displays than because they felt any great regret for King James I.
Anne Trelawny was sitting close to Mary and as usual the Princess Anne was in a corner whispering to Sarah Jennings. Anne’s needlework was always neglected; she hated work of any sort and always made the excuse that she could not see, and because of this affliction of the eyes she was generally humored.
Elizabeth Villiers was primly stitching. She was smiling secretly as though she were well pleased.
“It’ll be fun when the bonfire starts,” she said. “This is a special Guy Fawkes day.”
“Why?” asked Anne Trelawny.
“Don’t you know?” Elizabeth was supercilious; she was looking at Mary.
“I don’t see why there should be anything special about it,” said Anne Trelawny.
“You don’t know much! It’s because the Lady Mary and the Lady Anne have a new stepmother.”
“Yes,” said Mary, turning to Anne Trelawny. “She is not much older than I and my father said she will be like a playfellow.”
“A stepmother,” said Elizabeth with a grimace, “I shouldn’t like a stepmother.”
“She won’t be like an ordinary stepmother,” suggested Anne Trelawny. “She’s so young. Perhaps she will be with us.”
Elizabeth looked scornful. “No matter how old she is, she’s a stepmother. And the people don’t like it. That’s why they are going to make this a special Gunpowder Plot day. I heard them in the streets this morning. They were shouting: ‘No popery.’ And you know what that means.”
Mary looked from one to the other, but Anne Trelawny tried to change the subject. “Last Fifth of November, one boy was burned to death in the palace bonfire.”
“There’ll be more burned to death tonight,” gloated Elizabeth. “They’ll all be shouting ‘No popery’ and letting everyone know they don’t like this popish wedding.”
“What nonsense you talk,” said Mary loftily.
Anne Trelawny smiled at her in agreement. Elizabeth bent over her needlework; it was pleasant, reflected Mary, to have Anne Trelawny as her ally.
The young bride did not land at Dover until the twenty-first of November although the proxy marriage had taken place on the thirtieth of September. Desolate and frightened she had done everything she could to delay it. She was married, her mother had told her, and nothing could alter that; therefore she must reconcile herself to going to England and being a worthy Duchess of York. Mary Beatrice wept and pined; she ate so little and wept so often that her health began to suffer, and to reconcile her a little her mother agreed to go with her to England. This pacified her a little and when she knew that Signorina Molza, Signora de Montecuculi and Anna, and Signorina Turenie were to act as her personal attendants at the English Court she was even more cheered. But there were occasions when she considered what all this change in her life was going to mean to her; she was being torn from her home to live in a strange country; she would have to say good-bye to her brother who had been her friend all