‘Dr Lake was most grieved to hear that you are playing cards on
Sunday again,’ says Anne.
‘I know,’ says Mary, ‘because he said as much in a letter to me.’
‘And toyour Mrs Langford, your Mam,’ says Anne Bentinck, nee Villiers.
‘And to Dr Hooper,’ says Betty Villiers, whom some months in Holland appear to have made sharper-tongued, and, if anything, more squinty. Anne lowers her voice and says, ‘I think he is mostly vexed that you did not choose him for your household.’
She finds herself skewered by Betty’s good eye. ‘My, Your Highness, you have certainly come on a great deal since we saw you last . . . I do not think your sister’s soul is too much imperilled for want of Dr Lake. Not when Dr Hooper is so very – zealous.’
‘He has given me some very edifying reading, Mrs Villiers. I shall pass Of the Laws of Ecclesiastic Polity to you when I have finished it. I know how anxious you are for improvement.’
But Betty carries on almost as if her mistress had not spoken, and addresses Anne again.
‘And it is thanks to Dr Hooper, of course, that Her Highness has her Chapel instead of that over-large dining-room the Prince had furnished for her use.’
‘And it is Mrs Hooper who sits behind you, Betty,’ Mary hisses. ‘Now, ladies, if you are ready, I shall deal.’
This is Mary’s establishment, so Mary, of course, is the Bank. Anne is greatly impressed by her sister’s princely person: so stately, so stout and womanly and so very, very beautiful. It is all the more impressive for being so far from what the Duke has warned Anne to expect. Ever since Mary miscarried, and even more since she began to breed again, he has been in constant fear of her riding, walking or standing too much, of her eating the wrong foods, or failing to eat the right ones, of the possible ill effects of the Dutch weather or Dutch customs or Dutch Calvinist husbands. As no written assurances can satisfy him as to Mary’s condition, he has sent his wife and second daughter – very incognito, with only the three Duchesses and their closest attendants for company – to bring him back a fuller report.
He should be reassured, Anne thinks: the Duchess has said how delighted she is to find Mary in such good spirits. Anne, for her part, is astonished to see how passionately her sister can love a sullen, crooked prince. Mary has told her, in all apparent sincerity, that to see him riding off to war is the keenest pain she has ever felt.
They are playing basset this evening. Mary has dealt each player her thirteen cards, and now, one by one, they lay down their first stakes. The first card Mary turns up is the Queen of Clubs, and both the Villiers sisters, who have Clubs in their stakes, lose heavily. Mary collects her proceeds, then turns a second card: the five of Diamonds, which wins for Anne. She goes at once for seven and the go, but loses on the next card, which wins for the Bank again.
The play continues: Mary turns the cards; gold is staked, lost, won back and lost again. Anne wins, makes another bold move, and loses everything. After a little while, when the Villiers have lost nearly everything and the Bank has enriched itself at their expense, the Prince of Orange is announced, Betty swears under her breath, and the game is over.
Anne watches her sister retire with her husband, and thinks that in – what? two years? – she too could be married and the mistress of her own household, able to eat what she wants and scold her ladies and, better than anything, keep the Bank.