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

went. Lady Frances was almost deferential at times. Elizabeth Villiers was wary, and so was Sarah Jennings. She and Anne were inseparable, in spite of Anne’s passion for Frances Apsley. It was Sarah who was Anne’s
alter ego.
    I continued to write to Frances and to see her when I could on Sundays and Holy Days; and both Anne and I discovered a pastime which we found fascinating. This was cards. How we enjoyed them! The excitement of picking up the cards to see what had been dealt to us, eagerly scanning them, deciding how we should play them—it absorbed us.
    In fact, we became so addicted to the cards that there was criticism of us.
    Margaret Blague thought it was sinful and, like all good people, did not stop herself from letting us know it.
    â€œWhat harm does it do anyone?” I asked.
    â€œIt could harm the players,” she insisted. “It is gambling and that should not be indulged in—especially on Sundays.”
    Margaret was very puritanical. She would have been happier under Oliver Cromwell, I thought. Hadn’t she believed that playacting was sinful?
    My tutor, Dr. Lake, brought up the subject one day.
    He said: “It has been noticed that you and the Lady Anne are at the card table almost every evening.”
    â€œIt is a pastime we enjoy,” I replied. “What harm is there in it? Do you consider it to be a sin?”
    â€œIt is not exactly a sin, but I think Your Highness gives offense by indulging in it on the Sabbath. The people would not like it if they heard of it.”
    I knew that we had to be constantly careful not to offend “the people,” and I could understand that there might be some of them who would not like us to play cards on Sundays.
    â€œI will speak to my sister,” I said, “and we shall not play cards on Sundays.”
    Dr. Lake looked a little placated and I was so relieved that he did not attempt to curtail card-playing during the week, for that was something neither of us could have agreed to.
    Something very unfortunate happened at this time and, although it was proved to be just the mischief-making of a man of evil reputation, it was very disturbing while it lasted.
    A Frenchman named Luzancy announced that the Duchess of York’s confessor had visited him in his lodgings. This Luzancy had been born a Catholic and was a convert to Protestantism. The Roman Catholic priest, he alleged, had held a knife to his throat and threatened to kill him if he did not return to the Catholic faith.
    There was nothing more likely to arouse the concern of the people. They would never forget the fires of Smithfield during the reign of that queen whom they called Bloody Mary. Then Protestant men and women had been burned to death for their religious opinions. They had heard gruesome stories of what had happened under the Spanish Inquisition. Never would they have that sort of thing in England.
    We were back on the old theme which seemed to be running through my life, and which was soon to be brought home to me in the most significant manner possible. But I suppose this was the case with many people at that time. It certainly affected my father’s life more than any.
    The matter of Luzancy was taken so seriously that it was brought before the House of Commons and Lord William Russell, the ardent Protestant, who hated the French and deplored the licentiousness of the court, took the opportunity to bring in new laws against Catholics, and as a result no English subject might officiate as a papist priest in any chapel whatsoever.
    This was a criticism not only of Mary Beatrice but the Queen herself, who had been subjected to suspicion since she came to the country.
    Even when witnesses to Luzancy’s criminal career in his native France were produced and he was completely discredited, this law persisted.
    I believe that Mary Beatrice did not realize the extent of her unpopularity. She was very young and was beginning to grow fond of her