Free The Queen's Devotion: The Story of Queen Mary II by Jean Plaidy

than can be expressed by your ever obedient wife and humble servant who wishes to kiss the ground where you walk, to be your dog on a string, your fish in a net, your bird in a cage, your humble trout. Mary Clorine.”
    I had been so proud of those words when I wrote them; now I blushed to remember them.
    Lady Frances was looking at me very strangely. I noticed an uncertainty in her eyes. I had realized that she was not sure how to act.
    She began: “His Grace, your father . . .” Then she shook her head; her lips moved as though she were talking to herself.
    â€œIt is a very excessive friendship,” she said at length. “I think it would be better if we did not speak of it. And the Lady Anne . . . ?”
    â€œMy sister writes to Mistress Apsley because I do,” I said.
    â€œI must ponder this matter,” she said, as though to herself.
    â€œI do not understand. Is it not good to have friends . . . to love?”
    â€œPerhaps it would be well if you did not meet for a while.”
    â€œNot meet?”
    â€œAnd not . . . write such letters.”
    â€œI do not understand . . .”
    â€œNo,” said Lady Frances briskly. “I am sure you do not.”
    â€œNot to see her . . .” I murmured blankly.
    â€œI think you might meet, say on Sundays. You will be in the company of others then. And perhaps on Holy Days.”
    I stared at her in dismay. I had been in the habit of taking any opportunity I could to be with Frances.
    I said: “Lady Frances, you have my letter.”
    She looked at me with caution in her eyes. I knew that she was eager not to displease me. It was a fact that my stepmother was pregnant, but who could be sure what the result of the pregnancy would be? And if the situation did not change, Lady Frances might be at this moment earning the deep resentment of the future Queen of England.
    â€œWe will forget this matter,” she said slowly. “I think, my Lady Mary, it would be well if we were a little discreet.”
    She was smiling at me. Gravely I took the letter from her and she left me.

    IT WAS A BLEAK JANUARY DAY in the year of 1675. I would soon be thirteen years old. My father had been very disappointed because, instead of the hoped-for boy, Mary Beatrice had produced a girl. He tried not to show it and declared that he was very happy with our little sister.
    I found Mary Beatrice in excellent spirits. She confided to me that she wanted the child to be baptized in the Catholic faith and she was afraid there would be some opposition to that.
    â€œYour father desires it, too,” she said. “And I am going to be very bold. I shall command Father Gallis to baptize the baby before anyone else can do anything about it.”
    In view of the conflict which was growing over this matter of the Catholic faith, I thought this was a very daring thing to do. I knew that my father was very sad because Anne and I were being brought up as Protestants, and he only accepted this because if he had attempted to stop it we should have been taken away from him altogether and he would probably have been sent away from court.
    I was amazed that the usually meek Mary Beatrice could be so bold; but I was learning that people will do a great deal for their faith.
    It was no use trying to dissuade her, and Father Gallis baptized little Catherine Laura. The name Catherine was given to the baby in honor of the Queen and she was Laura after Mary Beatrice’s mother.
    Mary Beatrice had no qualms about what she had done. I supposed this was due to the fact that, whatever misdemeanor she committed at court was of no importance because she had done right in the sight of Heaven.
    However, she did seem a little subdued when she told me, a few days later, that the King had announced his intention of coming to St. James’s to discuss the baptism with her.
    I was horrified.
    â€œThe King will be angry,” I said. “You have been very bold. It is not that