This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1966 by Jean Plaidy, copyright renewed 1994 by Mark Hamilton
Excerpt from
All rights reserved.
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Originally published in hardcover in slightly different form as
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming Broadway Paperbacks reprint of
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Plaidy, Jean, 1906–1993.
[Haunted sisters]
Royal sisters : a novel of the Stuarts / Jean Plaidy.
p. cm.
1. Mary II, Queen of England, 1662–1694—Fiction. 2. Anne, Queen of Great
Britain, 1665–1714—Fiction. 3. Queens—Great Britain—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6015.I3H3 2011
823′.914—dc22
2011000643
eISBN: 978-0-307-72084-9
v3.1
Contents
A Husband for Anne
Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman
The King is Dead
Long Live the King
The Princess Bereaved
The Warming-Pan Scandal
The Flight of the Princess
The Uneasy Coronation
A Dish of Green Peas
At the Playhouse
The Arrival of Mrs. Pack and Departure of William
Beachy Head and the Boyne
Marlborough’s Defeat
The Flowerpot Plot
His Highness’s Soldiers and Stays
The End of a Life
To Be Delivered After Death
The Twickenham Interlude
Garter and Governor for Gloucester
The Great Tragedy
The Little Gentleman in Black Velvet
Bibliography
A HUSBAND FOR ANNE
Venus and Mars! she thought, Goddess and God, and great lovers. But she was certain that there had never been lovers like Anne of York and John Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave, Princess and Poet.
Her lips moved as she repeated the words he had written.
No one could have written more beautifully of Venus than John Sheffield had written of her.
What had happened to Venus and Mars? she wondered idly. She had never paid attention to her lessons; it had been so easy to complain that her eyes hurt or she had a headache when she was expected to study. Mary—dear Mary!—had warned her that she would be sorry she was so lazy, but she had not been sorry yet, always preferring ignorance to effort; everyone had indulged her, far more than they had poor Mary who had been forced to marry that hateful Prince of Orange. Anne felt miserable remembering Mary’s face swollen from so many tears. Dear sister Mary, who had always learned her lessons and been the good girl; and what had been her reward? Banishment from her own country, sent away from her family, and married to that horrid little man, the Orange, as they called him—or more often Caliban, the Dutch Monster.
The exquisitely sculptured Tudor arch over the fireplace commemorated two more lovers whose entwined initials were H and A. Henry the VIII and Anne Boleyn had not remained constant lovers. That was indeed a gloomy thought and the Princess Anne made a habit of shrugging aside what was not pleasant.
She turned from the tapestry room and went to her own apartments. Delighted to find none of her women there, she sat in the window seat and took out the paper.