The Three Crowns: The Story of William a - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,40

her life; she would have, eventually, to lose her mother, for although the Duchess would accompany her to England, naturally she would not stay there; and most terrifying of all, she must be a wife—and to an old man, yet one who had had many mistresses as well as a previous wife. The thought of physical contact with such a man horrified her.

She was in such a state of despair that she prayed every day for some calamity to occur—she believed she would have welcomed anything which would have prevented her arriving in England.

Preparations continued and at length the day fixed for her departure drew near, and with her mother, her friends and attendants she began the long journey through France. So desperate had she become that one morning when Anna Montecuculi came to waken her she found her delirious and suffering from a fever. This was the beginning of an illness which gave great alarm to everyone, for so distressed in mind was she that they feared for her reason. Her mother was at her bedside throughout the day and night; and as she sat there the Duchess wished that she had not been persuaded to agree to this marriage. However, it was done now; her daughter was married—albeit by proxy—to the Duke of York and nothing short of her death could prevent her going to England. It was two weeks before Mary Beatrice recovered and then Louis XIV invited her to rest awhile at his Court until she regained her strength. This put heart into Mary Beatrice because it was certainly going to mean some delay.

When Louis met her he was delighted with her beauty and charm, and she was fêted and honored by him and his Court; he told her that he would be delighted to have her with him forever. These were empty compliments, she was well aware, and now that she realized the inevitability of her fate she had accepted it, but her lovely face was marked with melancholy and those who loved her were very sad on her account.

She would never forget her despair as she saw the coast of France receding; she prayed for a storm which would destroy the vessel and then immediately thought of all the others who would suffer with her. That must not be, she knew. She wanted a storm in which she and she alone would lose her life.

A tragic way for a bride to come to her bridegroom.

A strong wind arose, but that seemed only to mock her, for it carried her vessel to Dover with greater speed than, said the sailors, could have been hoped for.

On the sands she found waiting for her—her husband. He was old—very old, she thought—and there were wrinkles about his eyes; and because she had imagined him to be an ogre he seemed to her like one. He took her hands and then embraced her, and assured her he was very happy to see her. She tried to smile but could not do so; and when he drew back to look at her, he said: “But you are beautiful … even more beautiful than they told me you were.”

His eyes, his warm and passionate eyes, took in each detail of her lovely face.

“Why, my little wife,” he went on, “you are going to be happy. We are going to be the happiest family in the world.”

She was aware of her husband’s attendants standing by; her mother was beside her, so was the Earl of Peterborough, whom she regarded as her enemy because she believed that if he had been less determined the marriage might never have taken place.

There was no turning back now. The quiet of the convent would never be hers. She was aware of her husband’s desire for her; she knew that he was longing for that second marriage, in which there would be no proxy for the bridegroom, with an intensity which matched that of her dread.

Her hand was in his; he held it firmly as though to say she should never escape him. She was shivering, believing that this consummation of which she knew so little but which she dreaded, would be even more alarming, even more shocking than she had feared.

He whispered to her: “You are happy to be here?”

She was too young to hide her feelings. “No, no,” she answered.

He was taken aback, but the desire in his eyes was touched by a certain tenderness. “You are so young. There will be nothing to fear.