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Authors: Jean Plaidy

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“William,” she whispered. “Come here, William.”

William regarded her stonily and kept his distance.

“William,” she said a little louder. “I want to speak to you.”

This was not the manner in which to speak to the Prince of Orange. When they were alone he endured a good deal; but he would not in public.

“William,” she cried in a loud voice, “I want to ask you something.”

Still he ignored her.

“William,” she screamed, “who is that woman with the long nose?”

There was a hushed silence all about her. The long-nosed woman did not appear to have heard the interruption.

Elizabeth Charlotte felt her arm gently but firmly taken by a plump young woman and she was led out of the hall.

In the anteroom Elizabeth Charlotte tried to struggle free. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“Her Highness’s lady in waiting, Anne Hyde,” was the answer.

“Then how dare you lay hands on me? How dare you force me where I do not want to go?”

William had come into the apartment; as soon as he entered he smiled, which was strange for it was not a habit with him.

“William …” began Elizabeth Charlotte imperiously.

But William interrupted her. “You asked me a question in there. I’ll answer you now. Who is the long-nosed woman? You wanted to know. Well, she is my mother, the Princess of Orange.”

 

The Princess of
Orange had sent for her son and as he stood before her she studied him intently. She wished that he could add a few inches to his stature. It would later be such a handicap for him if he remained small. She wished too that he could throw off that wheeziness of his, which really alarmed her. He must learn to stand up straight, for his stoop was growing more pronounced each week.

William guessed what she was thinking; it made him resentful—not against her, but against life which had given him the title of Prince and withheld all that was outwardly princely.

One day, he thought, I will show them that it is not necessary to be tall to be a king. Small men can be as brave—or braver—than big ones. He would show them … one day.

The Princess had no idea that her son read her thoughts; she said: “Pray be seated, William. I wish to speak to you about very important matters.”

He thought that she was going to reproach him for the behavior of Elizabeth Charlotte, not realizing that when events of such magnitude were happening in her family, the lack of decorum of a child was of small importance to his mother.

“Your uncle has returned to his kingdom.”

William said in his correct manner which was more suited to a diplomat than a boy of nine: “Your Highness refers to King Charles II?”

The Princess smiled, thinking of her brother—so tall and charming, so graciously expressing his gratitude for what she had been able to do for him. As if she would not have given all she had to help him! Fleetingly she wished William was a little more like his uncle Charles … not that she wished William to grow into a libertine; but she would have liked to have passed a little of the Stuart charm to William. Poor William! That was what he had so missed. Charm? That naughty little playmate of his had more than he had. Not that she would have wished her son to have so disgraced himself as Elizabeth Charlotte had. She must speak to the Queen of Bohemia about the child. But it was no great concern of hers, for now that Charles was back on the throne she saw marriage possibilities for her son which did not include Elizabeth Charlotte.

“Certainly I am referring to your Uncle Charles,” she said. “I hear the people gave him such a welcome as has rarely been given to a King before. They were tired of puritan rule in England. And now … your uncle is back where he belongs.”

“That is good, Your Highness.”

She wanted to shout at him: Oh, you little Dutchman. Smile. Do not be so reserved … at least with your mother.

She wondered whether she might take him to the English Court. It would do him good to learn a little grace. But she would not want him to adopt the manners of his uncle. One forgave Charles his lechery; but one naturally did not want a son to be the same. No, all William needed was to be less serious, more charming.

“It is very good; and I am going to England as his guest. While I am away I wish you to behave … as though I were here.”

She paused. He would naturally be well behaved. When had he ever been otherwise?

She said quickly: “But of course you will, William. I am merely telling you what a matter for rejoicing this is in the family. It was that villain Cromwell who insisted on your exclusion from the Stadtholderate. One of your uncle’s first acts was to repeal that. Do you see what this means? While your uncle is firmly on the English throne … we have a strong ally against our enemies.”

“Let us pray that he remains on his throne,” said William solemnly, “and that his father’s fate never overtakes him.”

The Princess smiled. “Oh, William,” she said, “you behave as though you are indeed the Stadtholder. You will be, in due course. I know that your uncle will look after your affairs as though he were your father. He has the kindest heart, and if I ask it as a special favor to me he will look to your interests.”

“I thank Your Highness.”

“The King will marry now and doubtless have children. If he does not …”

William waited, and she went on quickly: “Well, my son, you are in the line of succession to the English throne, though some way back. James’s children come before you, but one can never be sure what is going to happen. When you marry it must be a match which will bring you every possible advantage.”

William was watching her eagerly. Perhaps, she thought, I am saying too much; but he is so serious that he makes me forget he is little more than a child.

“Well,” she said briskly, “I shall be praying for you while I am away. And you must pray for me, William. Remember that what is happening in England is a good augury for the future.”

“I will remember, Mother.”

“I shall speak of you to your uncle. I doubt not we shall discuss your future.”

William bowed his head. My marriage? he thought. Whom would they choose for him? He knew that his uncle, James, Duke of York, had two girls—Mary and Anne. Would it be one of these? He hoped that his bride would be tall. She must be to make up for his being so small. She must be the most beautiful woman in the world; she must be witty and clever; but there was one quality above all others which she must possess: Meekness. Having all the virtues, being clever, she must yet realize that there was one whom she must obey. She must be a docile wife ready to adore her husband.

His mother embraced him. “When I return from England we shall have a talk. I shall tell you what it is like to live at the English Court. Now you may go. And I beg of you do not follow the manners of your cousin. Elizabeth Charlotte is a most undisciplined child.”

“I agree with Your Highness.”

The Princess smiled a little wistfully. She was thinking that if a little of Elizabeth Charlotte’s mischief could be transferred to William it might not be a bad thing.

Elizabeth Charlotte was waiting for him.

“What did the Princess want?” she demanded.

“To discuss affairs.”

Elizabeth Charlotte turned a hasty somersault and William stared at a swirl of petticoats in shocked silence. Her round saucy face, red with exertion, was mocking yet curious.

“You do give yourself airs, William,” she said. “To discuss affairs!” She imitated him. “What affairs? Come on. Tell me.”

“You would not understand.”

“Now, William, if I am going to marry you you will have to learn to treat me with respect.”

“But why?”

“Because I shall be your wife. I shall be the Princess of Orange.”

“You will never be that.”

“And why not? Why am I here as your constant companion if it is not to prepare me to accept you?”

William drew himself up to make himself as tall as possible. Mischievously Elizabeth Charlotte came to stand beside him to show that she was taller.

He knew in that moment that he would never marry her.

“Do not be too sure that
I
shall accept you,” he said. “You have not the qualities which I shall expect to find in my wife.”

“Oh, William, you talk like Grandmamma of Bohemia or your mother or some of her old ministers. If they say we have to marry we shall, and you’ll have to accept me as I shall you.”

“My wife,” said William, “will be very tall, very beautiful … and …” His voice was suddenly so firm that the grin on Elizabeth Charlotte’s face momentarily disappeared, “She will do exactly as I say.”

 

William knew that
he would never forget that morning in early January and that it would stand out as one of the momentous occasions of his life. He awoke as usual in his apartments in the Palace in the Wood, rising early, doing the exercises which he never failed to perform because he believed that they would make him grow and develop his muscles. Every night and morning he prayed that he might grow tall and strong so that he would be a worthy war leader. He never forgot that his first ambition was to regain the office of Stadtholder which had been his father’s and which the de Wittes and their party had taken from him. The duty of the Stadtholder was to lead Holland against her enemies; it had been the prerogative of the Princes of Orange and he was determined to regain it. Therefore he must discipline himself every day for the task and learn to excel in the art of war. Holland was a small country which had suffered persecution because it was vulnerable and he was determined to make it great.

His zeal was beginning to show results. He could manage a horse with any man; and because of his somewhat short legs he looked bigger on a horse than when standing. That again endeared him to horses. In the saddle he forgot to be concerned with his lack of inches.

He left the Palace for the stables on that morning; his horse was waiting for him and he rode out, galloping with growing excitement. His mother was away at the Court of England making plans for his future. His Uncle Charles was on the throne of England. The de Wittes and their friends had better be wary because he, William, now had some very good and powerful friends who would not be content to see him deprived of offices which were his by right of inheritance.

When he came back to the stables the groom ran out to take his sweating horse and began to stammer words which the Prince could not understand.

William waited coldly for the man to overcome his excitement.

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