Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughter Page 0,19
wish to. The very fact of your being the Princess does I fear come between us.”
“Then Morley and Freeman it shall be. Now we have to decide which is which. You are clever, Sarah, so I am going to make you decide. Who are you going to be, Mrs. Morley or Mrs. Freeman?”
Sarah considered. “Well,” she said, “I am of a very frank and free nature so I think Freeman would best suit me.”
“You have chosen, Mrs. Freeman. Now sit down and tell me the latest news of Mr. Freeman. Mr. Morley is in great spirits and with me is looking forward to the appearance of Baby Morley which I must confess, dear Mrs. Freeman, still seems to me a long way off.”
“You are too impatient, Mrs. Morley. You are like every other mother with a first child. I remember how I was with my Henrietta.”
Anne laughed. “Oh, Mrs. Freeman, I think this was an excellent idea of mine. Already I feel you are different toward me.”
“I believe it is going to make greater freedom between us, Mrs. Morley.”
The Princess Anne was brought to bed of a daughter but almost immediately it became apparent that the child could not survive, and there was scarcely time to baptize the little girl before she died.
Anne was temporarily distressed, but it was easy to comfort her. She was surrounded by loving attention. First there was her husband, plump and genial, to sit by her bed and hold her hand.
“Don’t you fret,” he said in his quaint English. “As soon as you are well enough, dear wife, we will have others.”
There was her father, so anxious on her behalf that it was said he cared for nothing as much as his daughter.
“My poor, dear child,” he mourned. “I understand well your disappointment. But you have shown that you are fertile. Why, scarcely were you married than you were pregnant; as soon as you are up and well there’ll be another. We all share your disappointment; but, my dearest, I can bear anything as long as my beloved child grows better every day.”
“You are the best father a daughter ever had,” she told him.
“Who would not be to the best of daughters?” he answered fondly.
Her stepmother came, with the Queen, both of whom had frequently suffered similar disappointments. They condoled with her, but there was one theme of their conversation: there would soon be a baby in the cradle for Anne.
If it were so, she would be perfectly happy, Anne declared. She had experienced motherhood, briefly and tragically, but it had made her realize that she wanted children. This one had been a girl, but there would be boys; and secretly she reminded herself that one of these boys could be King of England.
Anne had never felt so ambitious as she did lying there in her bed surrounded by all the luxuries her father could think of—ambitious for the son she would have.
The King came to visit her—kind, as ever, but looking older. His smile was merry, but there was a tinge of red in the whites of his eyes.
“Don’t you fret, niece,” he said. “If ever I saw a good stud, it’s our friend George. Don’t waste too much time being the invalid and, by God’s fish, I’ll warrant you’ll soon begin to swell again!”
It was all very gay and she felt secure and happy, sparing a thought now and then for dear Mary who had suffered miscarriages and must have sadly missed her father, stepmother, uncle, aunt, and most of all the kindness of a husband. Dear, dear George, how different he was from that hateful William, who, so reports from Holland had said, blamed Mary for the loss of her children.
What a good family she had, and how comforting it was to feel oneself cherished!
She was so contented that for some days she forgot the existence of Mrs. Freeman, who, to her disgust, was not allowed the liberty which had been hers before. Lady Clarendon had taken charge of the household and naturally the Duke of York paid more attention to his sister by marriage than to his daughter’s favorite woman.
It shall not always be so, thought Sarah, and during Anne’s confinement she grew to hate the Duke and Duchess of York.
Papists! she thought. They were nothing more than papists. Madame of Modena had swept through the apartments like a Queen bestowing little attention on Lady Churchill.
Well, Madam, thought Sarah, you will be sorry for that. Lots of people were going to