The Heir and the Spared

Chapter Twenty-One

"Are you certain?" she asked. "It would be most unusual."

"Quite. I have considered it carefully." James took a step back then, and made a few paces across the room. "My apartments will be an ideal place for witnesses, and will permit word of the birth to carry even faster to the privy council."

Even though at present, her unborn child was at rest, Mary felt as though she had been kicked soundly.

"We had not agreed that there were to be witnesses," she said quietly.

Still, from James' countenance, she already knew: no agreement from her side was seen as necessary. She might be queen, but she was still queen consort, and she must still obey the king.

"I am sorry, my love; I know you did not wish it," James said after a moment, closing the distance between them once more and kneeling before where she sat. "But you must understand, surely."

Turning her face away, Mary glanced again out the window into the streets of London. She understood that it was going to be nearly impossible now to successfully bring a baby boy into the bedchamber. Had the last eight months been for naught?

"You can choose your witnesses, of course," James added apologetically. "But they will have to sign a document before the privy council, swearing that you were, in fact, with child, and did, in fact, deliver a live babe."

Breathing shallowly, Mary gazed back at her husband's face. Choosing her witnesses would be some comfort, but who could she trust? Who could be counted upon, in the face of such deceit and danger?

"May I ask why, Your Majesty?" she asked, endeavoring to keep her voice even.

James sighed. Withdrawing, he rose to his feet and straightened. "People are talking, Mary. They say you are not truly pregnant. I am certain that if God blesses us with a son, more rumors will circulate. We are followers of the true faith among a fallen people; they will not be willing to accept a Catholic heir."

Glancing down at her abdomen, Mary rubbed it softly. It seemed almost impossible for someone to believe that she was not with child - and yet, had she not felt it so acutely, she might not have believed it herself, as miraculous as this pregnancy was.

And if all of this had been for nothing... if all of this had been planned only for Protestants to doubt her... if everything was to be questioned...

This could be the end of the Stuart dynasty.

It could be the end of her.

Glancing up, she met James' gaze again.

"Let it be done," she said.

--

Though James had reminded her that she could have servants move her things for her, Mary had insisted on remaining in her chambers for a few moments so that she could gather a few things for herself. James had gone back on court business, and she had been left to herself for a few moments, which was precisely what she wanted.

After hauling herself to her feet, she went to the door that joined her room to Sarah's, and knocked lightly. A minute later, the door swung open.

"I expect you heard that?" she asked.

Sarah nodded. "I did, Your Majesty."

"Very good." Mary leaned slightly on the door frame; though it might reduce her dignity slightly in anyone else's eyes, Sarah was a servant, and knew more about her than anyone else now - perhaps even more than her husband did. "Then things are made a bit easier for you, as you may stay here."

Part of her wished still that she could be the one who stayed, as moving her things would be rather a hassle. Even the walk across the palace to James' quarters seemed daunting in this advanced stage of her pregnancy.

Yet she knew there was no other conceivable way. She must do everything in her power to alleviate their suspicion. The more compliant she was, the more likely the plan could work, if the plan must be enacted.

"Yes," Sarah said slowly, "but they might be a bit more difficult for you, Your Majesty."

Mary sighed. "I have been thinking on how we might have a boy sent to my chambers, if the need should arise."

Watching Sarah's face, she noted that the girl's eyes had lowered; Sarah's hand hovered for a moment over her belly, and then fell back to her side.

"An infant could possibly be carried in a warming pan," Mary continued, trying not to think of the meaning of Sarah's downcast countenance. "There are perforations in the lid, to allow for breathing, and it might be just the right size." She stepped slightly back from the door frame so Sarah could see the warming pan laying at the base of her bed.

"That could do, Your Majesty," Sarah acknowledged a moment later. "Do you think they will believe your need for a warming pan in summer?" She dabbed at her neck, where a droplet of sweat was presumably rolling down her skin.

Glancing at the warming pan, Mary considered. "They will believe it coming from me. Besides, hot water is commonplace enough in a child-bed."

Though she was silent, Sarah nodded.

"I will send my midwife to attend you. She will make rounds through the palace and stop by my chambers twice a day," Mary decided. "She will visit you on the pretense that I have forgotten something in my chambers before being moved to the king's apartments for my lying-in."

Mary thought for a little while longer. It was possible, though unlikely, that they would go into labor around the same day. She hoped for that small possibility. After all, it had been unlikely for her to conceive a child nearly ten years after the death of her last babe - yet here she was. Was it not true that nothing was impossible with the Lord? So it had been said when Sarah, wife of Abraham, barren for decades, was told by God that she would conceive: nothing was too hard for the Lord.

Besides, miracles aside, though Mary put a great deal of faith in those, they had timing and nature on their side. Sarah had conceived a week or so before her, and first pregnancies lasted longer than those of wombs like Mary's that had already born children.

"These chambers will be empty but for you and the midwife. If you bear a son, before I go into labor, then the midwife will come to me, and ask if I need the warming pan; that shall be the sign to me. And if I bear a daughter or a stillborn babe, then I shall reply that I need the pan."

She paused then; the plan seemed logical enough. After all, over the last eight months, she'd had a fair amount of time to think on her plan - in fact, she'd had nine months to think upon it, since that was when she had first brought the idea to Sarah.

"Then the baby will be put in the warming pan and sent to you," Sarah said quietly.

"Yes." Mary looked at her for a moment; the plan should have been clear enough to require no further clarification.

Perhaps, she realized, Sarah was now having second thoughts - now that she had carried her child for some time. Anger flashed through her at this prospect; they had made an agreement, and Sarah would have nothing - not a job, not a husband, not nearly a thousand pounds - were it not for her.

"It will be the best thing for your child," Mary said slowly, taking a step closer with an outstretched palm held up, "if it is a boy, to be raised here, in comfort and safety."

Sarah hesitated briefly, then placed her hand in the queen's. Mary felt the tension in her shoulders and back ease minutely.

"Then we are agreed," Mary said, her voice even, but in a tone that she knew would brook no refusal from Sarah.

As curtsying had become difficult, Sarah lowered her head, and lowered her eyes, in respectful acquiescence. "We are agreed, Your Majesty."