The Queen's Devotion: The Story of Queen Mary II by Jean Plaidy Read Free Book Online Page A

laughing as she said: “You eat too many sweetmeats, child. I fear you are as partial to them as your mother is. So no more, eh? Let us be strong or the palace will not be big enough to hold us. Look at this plump little hand . . .” taking Anne’s hand and kissing it. And a few minutes later that plump little hand would be reaching for a sweetmeat and my mother, watching, would laugh and jokingly scold as she took one herself.
    How different from ours Mary Beatrice’s mother must have been!
    â€œI was not allowed to leave the table,” she went on, “until every drop of the soup had gone. But I did teach myself not to be sick. My mother is a very strong, good woman.”
    â€œI should have hated to be forced to take what I did not want,” I said.
    â€œThe soup was usually well watered with my tears. She was right, of course. One has to learn to do things one does not like. It makes it easier to face the world.”
    I wondered whether drinking soup she had hated had made it easier for her to come to England. I did not believe it had for a moment and I felt very critical of Duchess Laura and a fresh flood of sadness for the loss of our kind and clever mother.
    â€œOur lessons were not easy either,” said Mary Beatrice. “Many times I was beaten because I could not remember a verse in one of the psalms. You see, my mother wanted the best for us. She wanted us to be clever, so that we were prepared for anything that might happen to us. It was all for our benefit. The doctors once said that my little brother was not strong enough to sit so long over his lessons. He should be more in the fresh air. But my mother replied that she would rather have no son at all than a dullard. So poor little Francisco had to persevere with his lessons.”
    How different it had been with us! I remembered Anne, lolling indolently in her chair. “I shall not do lessons today. My eyes will hurt if I try to.” And everybody said she must not hurt her eyes. Lessons were there if we wanted them, but no one in the household should think of forcing the Lady Anne to learn if she did not want to.
    Poor, poor Mary Beatrice—although it must be rather pleasant to have learned as much as she appeared to have done.
    â€œYou will find my father very kind,” I assured her. But I could see that she was unsure and uneasy, although she had already been charmed by the King.
    I was a little piqued to realize that she wished my uncle had been her bridegroom instead of my father—and not because of his superior rank. I had heard it said so often that the charm of the King was unsurpassable. Kindliness was at the very essense of that charm and, because of her youth, and perhaps her beauty, he had made a very special point of showing affection and kindness to his new sister-in-law.
    He appeared often at St. James’s Palace, which was my father’s official residence and, of course, with him would come the courtiers so there were some very lively gatherings.
    My uncle obviously liked Mary Beatrice. He was always attracted by beauty such as hers, and I realize now that he made such a show of favoring her because of the unpopularity of the marriage. He wanted to soothe the people’s fears regarding it. But at the same time, he deplored my father’s preference for the Catholic faith—or rather his refusal to keep it a secret.
    This show of favor had its effect on Mary Beatrice and she was no longer the melancholy girl she had been on her arrival.
    The shock of meeting her husband who was so much older than she was had subsided a little. My father was making her see that he was not an ogre. In fact, I thought she was beginning to like him, but her uneasiness had not entirely disappeared.
    Elizabeth Villiers talked of the great excitement there had been on Guy Fawkes Night, the fifth of November, just a short time before Mary Beatrice arrived in the country.
    â€œThe fires were bigger than