“Who’s to say whether it has or not? And I think I have more means of bribing a jury than you! Now, what about it, Gerald? I have the paper drawn up and it’s in my chamber. Good Lord, I don’t know what more you can want! It seems to me a mighty generous offer—I don’t have to give you anything at all, you know.”

“Well—very well, then—only—”

“Only what?”

“Don’t tell Mother, will you?”

CHAPTER FIFTY–FOUR

JAMES WAS LEANING on the window-sill watching some women who strolled in the sunny garden below; he gave a soft whistle and as they glanced up he waved. The women were first surprised and then they burst into giggles, beckoning him to come down and join them. He began to pantomime, shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder. And then, as a door opened behind him, he straightened instantly, composed his face, and swinging the window shut turned around.

Anne Hyde came out of her brother-in-law’s closet, her ugly mouth working with emotion, snuffing her nose and holding a wadded handkerchief against her face. The years since the Restoration had not improved her appearance. She was now thirty years old; her stomach bulged with her sixth pregnancy and she had a gross accumulation of fat, for over-eating was her comfort; red angry pustules spotted her face, and covering each was a small black patch. Anne had caught syphilis from his Royal Highness. And yet she had about her still a sort of awe-inspiring grandeur, a majesty more defiant and more proud, perhaps, than if she had been of the blood royal. She was not very much liked, but she was respected, and somewhat feared.

Everyone knew that she ruled the Duke, kept him hopelessly in debt with her extravagance, told him what to do and say in council, and that he obeyed her. Only in his amours did he preserve his independence and those went on no matter how she complained. Frequently he had the women brought to a room adjoining their chamber and left Anne’s bed to go out to them. But, for the most part, they understood and respected each other.

Slowly she shut the door. He stood and stared at her, his face questioning, while she tried to gain control of herself. Finally he spoke.

“What did he tell you?”

“What did he tell me!” she repeated bitterly, twisting at her ringed hands. “I don’t know what he told me! He listened—oh, he listened most politely. But he wouldn’t promise anything. Oh, Your Highness—what can I do!”

York shrugged, but his face was morose. “I don’t know.”

She looked up swiftly and her eyes began to glitter. “You don’t know! That’s just like you! You never know what to do no matter what happens—you won’t know what to do when you’re king! God help you if I’m not here to tell you! Listen to me—” She came across the few feet that had separated them and took hold of his coat. As she talked her fist pounded against his chest. “You’re not going to stand by like a simple fool and watch my father put out by a pack of scheming, lying jackals, d’ye hear me? You’ve got to go in there and talk to him —make him understand what they’re trying to do! After all the years my father’s given to serve the Stuarts, after his loyalty and devotion, he can’t do this! He can’t turn him out! Go in there now and talk to him—” She gave him a push.

“I’ll try,” said York, without much conviction. He went through that door and knocked at another, opening it when the King’s voice bade him enter. “I hope I’m not intruding, Sire.”

Charles looked around over his shoulder with a grin. If he knew what his brother had come for he gave no indication of it. “Not at all, James. Come in. You’re just in time to send a message to Minette. What shall I tell her for you?”

The Duke was frowning, occupied with his own thoughts, and he hesitated a moment before answering. “Why—tell her that I hope she’ll be able to pay us a visit soon.”

“That’s what I’m writing about. She hopes to come next year. Well, James—what is it? You’ve got something on your mind.”

James sat down and leaned forward in his chair, thoughtfully rubbing the flat palms of his hands together. “Yes, Sire, I have.” He paused for several moments while his brother waited. “Anne is afraid that you don’t intend to deal kindly with the Chancellor.”

Charles smiled. “Then she’s very much mistaken. I shall deal with him as kindly as I can. But you know as well as I do, James, that this isn’t my doing. I have a Parliament to answer to, and they’re in a mighty critical humour.”

“But your Majesty wouldn’t sacrifice a man who has served you so long and well merely to satisfy Parliament?” James had no very good opinion of the country’s governing body, nor of his brother’s patience and compromises with it. Things will be different, he often told himself, when I come to the throne.