One morning shortly after their arrival in Whitehall, the queen asked Sarah to dress her simply. Sarah's fingers had lingered over the necklace when Her Majesty had requested to leave it off that day, for the pearls had been a gift from the king.
"I would like you to remain outside of my sitting room door this morning in case you are needed," the queen said, as she rose from her seat at the vanity. "I have an appointment and might require your services. I expect it will not be long that you must wait."
"Yes, Your Majesty," said Sarah obediently. It was hardly as if she had anything else to do. Her curiosity had been piqued, however, on what matter the queen could need her assistance.
Some time later, after the queen had breakfasted, a visitor was announced. Sarah, waiting as she had been ordered to do, watched the approach of a bespectacled man carrying a small box. Sarah curtseyed to him and then stepped out of the way for him to enter.
Once the queen had received him, Sarah lingered in the corridor. As she had been trained to do, she stood far enough away to avoid the temptation of eavesdropping, but close enough in earshot should the queen call for her more loudly.
Her curiosity lengthened the minutes, but in truth, Sarah did not have long to wait before the man exited again.
"You may come in," the queen called through the open door.
Sarah slipped into the room again. At a gesture from the queen, she sat down.
"I have summoned my physician," the queen said. "I wished for him to speak to me of matters of child-bearing."
Sarah nodded. "I hope you found it helpful, Your Majesty."
"I believe it was," the queen said. Much more faintly, she added, "For appearances' sake, anyway."
Sarah was quiet. Of course. Even if the queen did not conceive a child herself, she must at least, to all appearances, be making an effort to do so - if their plan was to succeed.
"He has advised me that I might go to Bath," the queen continued, more audibly. "He thinks if I take the waters there, it might alleviate my nerves. Apparently a more serene state of mind will be conducive to conception."
The queen glanced off, through the window, in what Sarah believed was the direction of St. James'.
Though she was tempted to bite her lip, Sarah restrained herself; as always, she endeavored to remain a picture of composure before the queen. This time, she succeeded. It still seemed terribly
unfair, however, for the queen's failure to conceive to be blamed on her nerves. It was hardly to be wondered at, with the king's philandering.
A thought entered Sarah's mind - a piece of Scripture that Philip had told her: "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee, because he trusteth in Thee." He had said it brought comfort to him. Now, it comforted Sarah as well. She wished she might share it with the queen. However, she was certain that a physician knew better than she did what might bring peace to the queen's troubled mind.
"I will go very soon. I have only to ask for His Majesty's permission, and then the travel arrangements can be made." The queen glanced back at Sarah then. "You will come with me, of course."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Though Sarah was honored that the queen once again would rely on her, nonetheless she felt a sadness settle in her belly. The queen had not said how long they would be in Bath. It might mean weeks away from Philip and from Bess.
--
"The queen is here to see you, Your Majesty."
As the door was opened, Mary exhaled and raised her chin.
Lifting her skirts carefully, she stepped into the room. While keeping her posture straight and proud, she curtseyed.
"Your Majesty," she greeted her husband.
The door closed softly behind her, but she kept her eyes on James as it shut. He had hastily veiled the surprise in his eyes, and got to his feet.
"Mary," he said quietly. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
"I seek your permission to go to Bath, sire."
Irritation flashed across James' countenance, but he just as quickly dashed it out.
"My physician believes taking the waters will be of some use to me," Mary explained, before his anger could grow. "To us."
She let the words hang in the air between them; let the meaning settle on her husband. His expression softened, and then he crossed the floor.
"Mary," he said again, more gently this time.
Though she had gone still, she allowed James to take her hand.
"James, may I speak freely?" She spoke as evenly as she could.
"Yes."
"The physician believes there are two interventions necessary for us to have a child," Mary said quietly. "One medicinal, and one miraculous." She paused, knowing that she could not speak openly enough to anger James. "That is - for God to bless us with a child, He must find us worthy."
James clenched his teeth together. A muscle in his jaw jumped. Finally, his countenance relaxed again. A new light had entered his eyes.
"Then you must go," he said after a moment. "And, as I have some business in the country, I will escort you."
Something in her faltered. Yet Mary endeavored not to show it on her face - not to show James any hint of weakness that he might use against her. If she allowed herself to hope, it would surely not be rewarded.
Still... as she scrutinized him, it was impossible not to think there might be a chance... They were quite alone, and he had dropped his use of the royal we; he spoke to her as a man, not a king. He spoke to her as a husband to a wife - for the first time in at least a fortnight.
For that time, and much longer, she had encouraged her heart to form a protective and impenetrable barrier of ice around itself. And that coldness, the will to push away and not expose any vulnerability, whispered: Tell him it is not necessary. You do not need him.
And surely she did not need him, for she had gotten along without him quite long enough - even for the majority of years that they had been married.
But this was not only about some childish desire to be appeased and petted, to be loved. Their marriage must be restored. There must be a reason to believe that a male heir to the Stuart throne was at least possible.
"That is a most gracious offer, sire," she managed, inclining her head to him in gratitude and acceptance. It was easier to speak in such a way - not showing what was in her soaring thoughts. Before her more frigid side spoke out I can hardly refuse the king, she bit her tongue. Such a statement would only have made him cold to her.
True, he would not stay with her the entire time in Bath, but he would at least escort her on the way there, and presumably on the way home. He would be away from London - and away from the duchess.
Almost furtively, James reached for her hand. Mary accepted it. Something passed between them. It was warm and palpable. Though James did not say the words she most longed to hear, and she expected that she never would, it was, at least, a start.
"I had hoped to leave as soon as possible," she said carefully. The sooner they could leave this town, and the sooner James left Catherine Sedley, the better. Besides that, if Sarah conceived a child, James must have grounds for believing, in nine months, that the newborn baby Mary held was his.
"Then we shall go as soon as the arrangements can be made," James agreed.
He bent over her hand and pressed a kiss to it. For a moment, while he could not see it, she closed her eyes, overcome. She thanked God for His mercies.
--
On that Sabbath day, her last Sunday in London for the present time, Sarah hurried once more to St. James'. Though the queen had not moved back into the palace, Sarah was in eager expectation that she would do so, if events in Bath went well. That, however, would require a lot of prayer.
In the meantime, as she hoped to be reunited with Philip in the coming months, she dreaded the prospect of a few weeks without him. She was bracing herself for how best to tell Philip. Yet when they met in the launderers' room at St. James', he swept her off her feet and twirled her in a circle.
"My little wife, off to Bath!," he said, setting her down on her feet again as her head spun.
"Hush!" Sarah scolded, afraid of who might overhear her called wife, even though the title still thrilled her. She steadied herself, holding his arms, and searched his gaze. "You already know?"
"My love, the whole palace knows! And milord found it such a splendid idea that he has decided to go to Bath on account of his gout!"
Philip leaned in to kiss her, and Sarah was almost too stunned to respond. She gripped his arms a bit more tightly.
"Do you mean to say you'll be in Bath, too?" His words had been plain enough, but it seemed too wonderful to believe.
"A wedding-trip - for two servants like us," Philip said with a grin. "Can you imagine it?"
Sarah blushed. "How shall we find each other?" It seemed improbable that their employers would lodge together, for even though Philip was valet to a duke, she was maid to a queen.
"I'm certain Her Majesty could arrange a rendezvous if she so chooses," Philip said, settling his hands on her waist and drawing her closer.
Though Sarah could hardly ask for such a thing, she considered. "I suppose she will not need me all day. After all, I am hardly a worthy companion." More likely, the queen would have a lady of rank with her; that would be more suitable.
Philip's smile grew at the prospect of spending more time with his wife. Gently, he drew her closer. "You are certainly a worthy enough companion for me."