Scarcely a month after the physician was summoned to the queen and encouraged her to go to Bath, he was summoned again.
It was early in the morning, even before Mary had summoned Sarah. She wanted to see no one yet, excepting the physician. Surely he would not care if she had not yet been dressed in a fine gown, or that she had not yet had her hair set in curls.
The hour was so early that the man was blinking sleepily behind his spectacles when he arrived at Whitehall. Mary was grateful that James had ridden early for a morning horseback ride. She did not know how longer she could have kept this information from him. When she told him, this time, she needed to be certain.
"It is too early to confirm for certain, Your Majesty," the physician said. "Yet everything you say appears very promising." And with that, he smiled.
Though Mary was almost afraid that if she hoped too much, her hopes would be torn asunder, she could not help but smile in return - albeit rather tremulously.
"I confess, I do not understand," she murmured. "As you well know, it has been years since I have been able to conceive a child. How could this have happened?"
"It is difficult to know, Your Majesty. The ways of the Almighty are mysteries to us."
That was true enough, but Mary wanted more. She did not remove her gaze from the physician. The man adjusted his spectacles slightly and cleared his throat.
"I have seen cases previously," he continued, "in which women who were greatly burdened with the cares of life suddenly conceived when those stressors had abated."
Mary kept her expression neutral, seeing as the man was nearly falling over himself to ensure that he did not seem accusational. He bowed again, nervously.
"However, you, Your Majesty, are a woman of grace and assurance. I cannot guess at the ways of the Lord, but perhaps I may venture to wonder..."
He trailed off, and Mary raised an eyebrow.
The man went on hurriedly. "I wonder whether in this case, it was the Lord who withheld a child from you for a time - so that now, He might reveal His miraculous power through you."
For a moment, Mary looked down, considering. To conceive a child now, after such heartbreak for so many years... It would indeed be explained only by a miracle. The physician might be right, that it was James' return to fidelity that had finally allowed them to conceive. Mary was quite sure, however, that it could only be the power of God that could prompt James to be faithful to her.
"So it was," the physician said gently, "with many women in the Bible on whom God's favor rested."
At this thought, Mary's expression softened. On whom God's favor rested. She did not think the phrase was an accident. Her eyes met the physician's again. He had, intentionally or not, utilized the very phrase which had been used to describe Mary, holy mother of Jesus.
Yes... She would not lose this child. She would be the mother of a savior, this time not the Savior of the world, but at least the savior of England. James would love her for it; the Catholics of the nation, followers of the true faith, would remember her for it.
Impulsively, she reached for the doctor's hands, making his eyes widen in amazement.
"Perhaps you are right," she murmured. Surely it had been Providence that made her pick a Catholic physician. She would make sure that no matter what the Protestants attempted, he would not lose his practice. "God bless you, sir."
"Thank you, Your Majesty. And God bless you!"
After a few more reverential bows, she allowed him to take his leave of her.
In a few moments, she would call for Sarah. Before then, however, she had to think precisely of what to say.
--
"Sarah," the queen greeted her, before she had even fully entered the room. "I have news."
Sarah swallowed, and closed the door softly behind her. "Happy news, Your Majesty?"
"Happy indeed. I may as well tell you, for you shall know of it soon enough, as you are a clever girl, and will see in me what you feel in yourself."
Sarah felt her mouth go dry and her heart began to race.
"I have seen a physician this morning, and he is confident I have conceived."
Co-mingled fear and relief flooded Sarah's mind. If the queen had a child of her own, she would not take Sarah's. Sarah and Philip would have the family of which they had dreamed. And yet... if the queen had a child of her own, she would not need Sarah. It would be entirely in her power to renege on the promise she had made. The one hundred pounds a month, on which Sarah and Philip had been planning to live once they left the castle, could evaporate - and along with it, all of their plans. Without that money, it would be impossible for them to leave. And with a baby, it would be impossible for Sarah to stay. No other servant would be able to watch her baby while Sarah was working, for they all had work of their own to do. The alternative
"I must congratulate you, Your Majesty," Sarah said, and curtsied on her trembling legs.
"You are a good girl, Sarah," the queen said, going to her and touching her cheek lightly. "But I know you must be wondering what this means for you."
Though Sarah would not admit it, the queen had seen right to her heart.
"But you see, I could not have orchestrated this plan better myself than God in His infinite wisdom," the queen continued. She strolled to the window and gazed out of it. "I may still have need of you. Now, James will have even more reason to believe that I am pregnant, but if this child..."
The queen paused for a moment, and Sarah was tempted to take a step closer, but did not. Then the queen gathered herself and went on.
"If this child is like the others," she continued evenly, "and is lost to me, then your child will be our saving grace."
While Sarah's heart sank, she said softly, "I understand, Your Majesty."
"And if, by God's will, this child survives..." The queen touched her midsection softly, and Sarah wondered if Her Majesty even noticed that she did so. "If this child survives, then I shall keep my word to you. I promised you one hundred pounds a month to carry a babe for me, and so you are, in case the child is yet needed."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Sarah managed. It was remarkably generous, in the circumstance that the queen might not need her child after all.
"And if my child is a girl, and yours is, as well, then we shall simply try again. And you, I know, will succeed, eventually if not immediately."
The queen turned more fully to face her, and Sarah's gaze lowered. She did not wish her youth to be a source of envy. Nor did she wish to spend the next ten years of her life to be spent as a broodmare for the queen until she produced a son. Yet what choice did she have? One did not simply say no to the queen. And Her Majesty had been remarkably kind and generous.
"If it happens that we both have sons," Sarah said quietly, "what shall become of mine?"
Silently, the queen moved to her vanity. She sat down and considered. "It may be wise for you to stay here at court with me for a year," Her Majesty said at last. "It is not uncommon for a child to die in infancy."
The queen's voice had grown so low, Sarah could scarcely hear it until she moved closer to the vanity.
"At that age, your child might not seem passable as mine, once the prince has already been seen. But I may need you to try again. In the meantime, you could stay as nursemaid to them both."
Desperate for something to do, Sarah started to prepare her tools for the queen's hair.
"For if the child dies," the queen said, in a near-whisper, "all of this would have been for nothing."
In the looking-glass, Sarah caught a glimpse of the queen's face. It looked paler than ever. Her Majesty was silent for a long moment, and Sarah's hands went still.
Suddenly, the queen hurried for her chamber-pot. Sarah bowed her head and closed her eyes, for she also felt quite ill.
--
An hour after the king had gone out for a morning ride, he returned again, smelling of horse and sweat, and in high spirits.
"Where is my wife?" he called merrily, sauntering into the queen's chambers. "What, still abed? Waiting for me, eh?"
His face fell then and he stopped short near the bed, seeing his wife's face.
"Do not fret, James," she said quickly, offering her hand to him.
He took it and kissed it. "Are you ill, my love?" he asked solicitously.
"No, not ill." Mary could not help the slow smile from spreading over her face. "I have seen the physician this morning, James. We have conceived a child."
James inhaled a quick, tremulous breath. "A child," he whispered, taking a step closer. "A child!" he crowed then, grasping her hand tightly.
In wonder, James shook his head, and turned to pace the room.
"I hardly know what to say, Mary. This is wonderful!" He turned back to face her, simply beaming. "When?"
Mary tried to stifle a laugh. They had certainly had plenty of opportunity. The doctor, though, had considered the timing since her last bleeding and estimated a possible date of conception. "I believe it must have happened while we were in Bath."
"A miracle," James breathed. "Can it be true that we are to be so blessed? I had almost not believed it would be possible."
"God has had mercy on us," Mary said, watching him with a slight smile.
Returning to her side again, James took her hand. "Mary, I want you to rest as much as possible. I don't want you to lift a finger. I'll hire as many extra servants as you may want."
Though she laughed softly, Mary was touched by the gesture. "I will be fine, James," she promised. "I am not an invalid. The sickness will pass, I assure you."
Experience had taught her that. She went quiet then, and James did too. Mary wondered if they were thinking the same thing - if James feared that she would lose this baby, like the others; if it would happen early in the pregnancy, when it was slightly less painful, or after she had given birth to a stillborn babe.
"I am still healthy and strong, James," she said. Though her voice was quiet, she kept it firm, and she met his gaze intently.
James exhaled, but his gaze did not waver. "I praise God for it."
Gently, he slid his hand across the blankets and found her middle. While her belly had been swollen with child before, it was flat beneath the covers now. The growth of their child was as yet a secret for only the two of them - and Sarah, though James knew it not.
"I praise God for you," James added, even more softly. He leaned in to kiss her, and despite his pungent odor, Mary did not mind.
"I love you," she whispered.
He kissed her forehead and lingered there for a pleasant moment. "I love you," he replied.
For a short and sacred time, he crawled into the bed with her and held her. Sometimes she dozed off and awoke again in his arms.
She remembered the first time she had conceived a child, a short while into their marriage. It seemed a lifetime ago. He had danced her around the room, laughing, until she had been so dizzy she'd been sick. Then he'd held her hair and stroked her back and said sweet things into her ear. That hadn't lasted, though. When she'd lost the baby, James had tried to hide it but she saw him weeping. There was nothing she could have done, the physician told her; nothing.
This time, James would not weep.
Finally, the king rose to wash and dress; his duties as king awaited.