Free Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II by Jean Plaidy Page A

against that marriage, but Charles had insisted on it, pointing out that because William was a Protestant it was more necessary to James than to anyone else, for if James did not allow his daughter to marry a Protestant, Charles believed that the people would insist on excluding him from the succession.
    So there had been this Dutch marriage—but he never trusted his son-in-law and what was so heartbreaking was that he believed William was trying to influence his daughter against him.
    Rake and libertine that he could not prevent himself being, James had a great desire for a happy family life to which he could retire for a short rest from his mistresses. He had convinced himself that he had enjoyed this for a time with Anne Hyde, the mother of his daughters, and the two girls themselves. He remembered several occasions when they had sat on the floor and played childish games together. He looked back—sentimentalist that he was—with great yearning to that period.
    He sincerely loved his daughters. In her childhood Mary had been the favorite, but she was far away and William’s wife, whereas Anne was at hand and he could see her frequently. Moreover he had written to Mary in an endeavor to convert her to Catholicism, and her replies had been cool; she implied that she was firmly Protestant.
    William’s wife, he thought sadly, scarcely James’s daughter now.
    So he turned to Anne. He increased her allowance, for the dear creature had no money sense at all and in spite of her enormous revenue she was constantly in debt. He enjoyed those occasions when she sought his help; it was a pleasure to see her woebegone face break into a smile when he told her that she could rely on her father to help her in any difficulty.
    “You are the daughter of a King now,” he was constantly telling her. “The beloved daughter.”
    Anne thought what a pleasure it was to be a sovereign. So much homage; so much adulation. Sarah had grown even closer because that year they had both given birth to daughters: Anne’s Mary and Sarah’s Elizabeth.
    Sarah would whisper to her: “And think, dear Mrs. Morley, one day you may be the Queen of England.”
    “I do not like to think of that, Mrs. Freeman, because my father would have to die first.”
    “H’m!” retorted Sarah. “He is a papist, you know, and that is not good.”
    “Alas no.” Anne was a staunch Protestant, as she had been brought up to be, for her uncle Charles had taken her education and that of Mary out of their father’s hands. “But he is firmly convinced that he is right.”
    “Mrs. Morley must never allow herself to be converted. That would be dangerous. They would never allow you to be Queen if you became a papist. These papists are a menace.”
    “I know, I have heard from my sister.… She is not very pleased with my father.”
    “Nor is it to be wondered at. He is under the thumb of his wife. She is the real culprit.”
    Anne looked puzzled as she thought of her lovely stepmother with whom she had always been on good terms.
    “I have never trusted Italians,” went on Sarah. She thought of the Queen sweeping through the Cockpit and showing no respect for Lady Churchill. Her influence with the Princess must not be allowed to grow; it was too great already.
    “She always seems to be kindly.”
    “Oh, but so proud, Mrs. Morley. She pretends that she is gracious to all, but have you noticed the change in her since she became Queen?”
    “Hush, Mrs. Freeman, your voice carries so. If anyone heard you speak thus of the Queen.…”
    “We should give her a name, so that no one would know of whom we were speaking.”
    Anne was very fond of giving people nicknames; she had always done so throughout her life; so she fell in with the suggestion at once.
    “It ought to be something like Morley and Freeman,” she said. “An ordinary sort of name. I have it. Mansell. My father shall be Mr. Mansell and the Queen, Mansell’s wife. How’s that?”
    “Mrs. Morley, you