The Three Crowns: The Story of William a - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,92
all remember, shall we not, that we are of one family. Although we are apart, that is something we shall remember till we die.”
Mary nodded. “And my dearest Anne …”
“She does not know that you are leaving England. We fear the news would make her very unhappy and she needs all her strength.”
“Oh, Father, how sad life can be!”
“Mary, I beg of you, do not weep here. You are watched, and tears do not please your husband.”
“There seem to be so many things about me that do not please him.”
James’s face hardened. “If he should be unkind to you, Mary … let me know.”
“Of what use?” she asked.
“I would find a way of saving you.”
“Would that you had thought of it before the marriage.”
“Oh, Mary, my dear, dear daughter, circumstances were too strong for us.”
She remembered those words later. Circumstances were too strong. She reflected then that it was a phrase used by those who wished to excuse their weakness.
The hands of the clocks were approaching eight—that hour when she must leave the ball, take off her satin gown and her jewels, and prepare herself for the journey.
All those who would accompany her were in her apartment, many of them chattering with eagerness, for the journey to Holland was for them an adventure. Even Anne Trelawny could not keep the excitement out of her eyes. The Duke of York had taken her aside and asked her (because he knew that of all her ladies his daughter loved her best) to take care of Mary and let him know if aught went wrong with her. Anne Trelawny believed she had a special mission. Lady Inchiquin could not hide the pleasure she found in her new authority. Jane Wroth, a pretty girl, was frankly looking forward to the adventure. Anne Villiers was heartbroken on account of the serious illness of her mother, but nevertheless glad to be going to new surroundings; then there was Elizabeth, subdued and different, so that Mary wondered whether she was capable of deeper feelings than she had imagined. Elizabeth had changed very much of late and Mary, who was always ready to forgive, now accepted the fact that their childish quarrels must be forgotten.
They took off her jewels and carefully put them away; they helped her change her dress.
Then the party set off for Gravesend.
There was after all a respite. Mary remembered the King’s words and wondered whether his prayers had been answered, for such a gale arose that it was impossible to sail and the party were forced to return to Whitehall where, said the King, they might have to reconcile themselves to a long stay.
As he said this he smiled at Mary and she thought then that her uncle would be one of those whom she would most sadly miss.
William was angry. His great desire now was to be back in his own country. He stood glowering at the windows watching the river and listening to the howling wind. The King said they should occupy themselves with a little amusement while they waited. There should be dancing or cards. What did his nephew think?
Neither, said William, were diversions which appealed to him. He preferred to watch and wait for a change in the wind.
It was two days and nights before there was a change; then William gave rapid orders. They were to set out at once before the wind changed again; the King smiled tolerantly and took barge with the Queen and Duke and Duchess of York, the Duke and Duchess of Monmouth, and the bride and groom.
Mary looked back at her home as they sailed along the river and exerted all her control that she might not distress and exasperate with further tears. But she was unable to restrain them. How could she sail along this beloved river without asking herself when she should see it again? How could she look back at St. James’s Palace without thinking of dearest Anne whom she might never see again, of Frances, the true husband to whom she had not even been able to say good-bye.
Queen Catherine was beside her. “My dear Mary,” she said in her quaint accent, “you will make yourself ill with so much crying. This is no worse than what happens to us all. Why, when I came to England I could not speak English and I had never even seen my husband.”
“Madam, you came into England,” replied Mary sadly. “I am going out of England.”