The Three Crowns: The Story of William a - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,6

But Uncle Charles has no son.”

She was puzzled thinking of handsome Jemmy, whom she loved so much and who was known as Monmouth. She had thought he was Uncle Charles’s son.

“No, he has no sons who could inherit the throne,” went on her father, “so therefore if Uncle Charles died I should be King. And if I were to die …” She looked alarmed and he kissed her tenderly. “I shall not for years and years … but one day I shall be a poor old man and you will be a woman with husband and children of your own. Then, my love, if Uncle Charles had no children at all and you did not have a little brother, you could be Queen of England.”

It was all very complicated to her, but he was glad he had told her; it was as well to learn as early as possible what part one might have to play in the country’s affairs.

Then he changed the subject abruptly; he told her wonderful stories of how he had been a soldier in Europe and he and Uncle Charles had been two wandering exiles because the wicked Oliver Cromwell had driven them from England. He had many exciting adventures to relate; but what Mary liked best was the story of how the people decided that they wanted no more of the puritan rule and sent to Europe for the Princes. She liked to hear how he and Uncle Charles came back to England, how the bells rang out and the people strewed their way with flowers while they danced in the streets and laughed and embraced each other because England had ceased to be a somber place.

“They knew Uncle Charles would make them laugh again,” said Mary.

Her father nodded. She was right. Charles had made them laugh at his witticisms, at his careless good nature, at his never ending adventures with women.

When James left soon for Oxford, Mary missed him sadly, discovering that she loved him better than anyone in the world—better than her mother, better than cousin Jemmy, better even than Anne.

Each day Mary hoped to hear that her father would be with them; she worked hard at her lessons, wishing to surprise him, and her mother was proud of her, but Mary knew that secretly she loved Anne best, although the child never made any effort to win affection; she smiled placidly at everybody, and grew fatter every day.

There were occasions when the Duke paid a visit to York and they were the happiest days for Mary. She would be at his side all through the day; and even when important people came to see him she was not dismissed. He would hold her on his knee while he talked; and she listened because she knew that was what he wanted her to do. Thus she learned a little about the wicked Dutchmen who were threatening England on the high seas; she also heard news of the terrible plague.

One day her mother sent for the little girls and taking Anne on her lap and drawing Mary into the crook of her arm, she said: “How would you like to go back home?”

Home? But this was home. Home was where her mother was, where her father came when he could escape from his duties.

“You are going to have a very happy time,” explained the Duchess, popping a sweet into Anne’s mouth. “You are going to live in Richmond Palace, where a nursery is being prepared for you, and you will have a lady governess and other little girls to be your companions.”

Mary was a little puzzled; but her mother was smiling while Anne contentedly crunched, and later when she heard the servants talking about it and understood how happy they were to be going, as they said, “home,” she was happy too.

Lady Frances Villiers, the youngest daughter of the Earl of Suffolk who had married Colonel Edward Villiers and given him a family, was congratulating herself on her appointment.

“For,” she told her husband, “it seems clear that the King will never have an heir; and in that case the most important children in the country will be under my care.”

The Colonel agreed that the position looked promising for the future.

“Edward and Henry are well placed at Court,” went on Lady Frances, “and the girls will now have their opportunity. They will be close companions of the Lady Mary and the Lady Anne, and I shall impress upon them the importance of making that friendship