Author's Notes.
When the popular Charles II died in 1685, he left a
country torn by religious controversy but no legitimate
children. The throne passed to his Roman Catholic brother
James.
It was an anxious time for the people, whose fears
increased when James II, became so unpopular that he was
forced into exile, and his daughter, Mary and her husband
William of Orange succeeded to the throne.
The Act of Settlement was passed in Parliament in 1701 to
prevent a Roman Catholic inheriting the English throne. This
meant James Second's Roman Catholic son by his second wife,
Mary of Modena could not become king.
In 1702 James's childless younger daughter, Anne,
inherited the throne from her sister Mary, and Mary's
husband William of Orange.
Anne's Protestant heiress was Sophia, the granddaughter
of James I. If Sophia died before Anne, Sophia's uncouth
son, George, Elector of Hanover, who spoke no English, would
be next in the line of succession.
Anglicanism, a mixture of ancient Catholic ritual and
Church government with Protestant tenet, was the official
national religion, re–established by law in 1660.
Queen Mary and Queen Anne were staunch supporters of the
Anglican Church.
Anglicans and non–conformists united in their
loathing of the Roman Catholic Church. The Catholics, or
papists, as they were called, were suspected of endlessly
plotting against the Government, and their civil liberties
were restricted. For example they were forbidden to travel
more than a mile or two from home.
Chapter One
1706
"Bastards, Juliana! You and your sister are bastards."
Aghast, Juliana stared at William, her older
half–brother, although, not for a moment did she
believe his shocking allegation.
It hurt her to confront William without their father at
her side. At the beginning of April, she and Father were as
comfortable as ever in his London house. Now, a month later,
upon her return to her childhood home, Riverside House, set
amongst the rolling landscape of Hertfordshire, his body
already lay entombed in the family crypt next to her
mother's remains. Would there ever be a day when she did not
mourn him? A day when she did not weep over his loss?
A cold light burned in the depths of William's pebble
hard eyes.
Juliana straightened her neck. She would not bow her head
thus giving him the satisfaction of revealing her inner turmoil.
William cleared his throat. His eyes gleamed. "Did you
not know you and your sister were born on the wrong side of
the blanket?"
Anger welled up in her. "You lie. How dare you make such
a claim?"
Hands clasped on his plump knees, William ignored her
protestation. "You now know the truth about your whore of a
mother," he gloated.
Well, she knew what William claimed but did not believe
him! "You are wicked to speak thus. My mother always treated
you kindly."
"As ever, you are a haughty piece." William's broad
nostrils flared. Anger sparked in his eyes. "My dear sister,
remember the adage: Pride goeth before a fall, however, do
not look so worried. I shall not cast you out without the
means to support yourself."
William rang the silver hand bell. When a lackey clad in
blue and gold livery answered its summons, he ordered the
man to pour a glass of wine.
Juliana watched William raise the crystal glass to his
lips. What did he mean? How could she maintain herself and
her sister? She had not been brought up to earn a living.
She looked away from her half–brother to glance
round the closet, the small, elegantly furnished room in
which she kept her valuables, and conducted her private
correspondence before her father's death.
Now, it seemed William, the seventh Baron Kemp, and his
wife, Sophia, had sought to obliterate every trace of her by
refurbishing the closet. Where were her books and her
embroidery frame? Where was Mother's portrait? Rage burned
in the pit of her stomach while she looked round her former
domain. Juliana wanted to claw William's fat cheeks. It
would please her to hurt him as he was hurting her. No, that
wish was both childish and unchristian. She must use her
intelligence to defeat him.
At least her family portrait in which her late mother sat
in front of Father, and she and William, dressed in their
finest clothes, stood on either side of Mother, remained in
place. One of her father's hands rested on her pretty
mother's shoulder, the other on the back of the chair. A
handsome man, she thought, while admiring his relaxed
posture and frank expression, both of which depicted a man
at his ease.
At the age of five she already had resembled Mother when
Godfrey Kneller painted her family in sixteen hundred and
ninety–three. They both had large, dark eyes and a
riot of black curls, as well as fair complexions tinged with
the colour of wild roses on their cheeks. She touched her
narrow, finely sculpted nose. Judging by the portraits, she
inherited her straight nose, oval face and determined jaw
from Father.
Her hands trembled. After father died, she knew life
would never be the same again. Yet nothing had prepared her
for what would follow.
Today, when she first stepped into the spacious hall, it
seemed as though she had also stepped over an invisible
threshold. From being a beloved daughter of the house, she
had become her half–brother's pensioner. Knowing
William and Sophia's miserly natures, she doubted they would
deal kindly with her. Yet she could not have anticipated
William's appalling accusation of illegitimacy, and his
arrangement – whatever it might be – for her to
earn her living.
The lackey served William with another glass of wine.
William jerked his head at the man. "Go."
Her head still held high Juliana looked at tall, fleshy
William. She liked him no more than he liked her. Indeed,
who would not dislike a man so parsimonious that he neither
offered his half–sister the common courtesy of either
a seat or a glass of wine? Infuriated by his gall she
clasped her hands tighter, trying to contain her anger and
to keep her face impassive.
She shivered. Today, when she alighted from the coach,
rain soaked her clothes. On such a wet, grey day, why did no
fire blaze in the hearth? Here, in the closet, it was
scarcely warmer than outdoors. She clenched her hand to stop
them trembling while imagining the heart of the house died
with Father.
"You shall put your fine education, which our father
boasted of, to good use," William gloated. "You shall be a
teacher at a school in Bath."
Fury flooded Juliana's chilled body. "Shall I?"
"Yes. Our father saw fit for you to have an education far
beyond your needs. You are more than qualified to teach
young ladies."
"Beyond my needs? Father admired Good Queen Bess and
other learned ladies of her reign. He deplored Queen Anne's
lack of education. Our father decided no daughter of his
would be as ignorant as Her Majesty and her late sister,
Queen Mary."
The purple–red colour of William's cheeks deepened.
"Enough! I despise over–educated women."
She stared at him. Undoubtedly his mean–minded wife
had influenced him. Sophia was jealous because her own
schooling comprised only simple figuring, reading and
writing learnt at her mother's knee, whereas Juliana
benefited both from the tutors her tolerant father, the
sixth baron, had engaged and Father's personal tuition.
William interrupted her thoughts. "You have no claim on
me. Moreover, our father left you naught in his will. To
make matters worse the estate is so neglected I cannot
afford –"
"Cannot afford," she broke in, outraged. "What nonsense
is this? I have lived here for most of my life. Father
encouraged me to familiarise myself with Riverside estate. I
know every detail of it. Father even encouraged me to
examine the accounts. I assure you everything is in perfect
order, and the estate is profitable." Scornfully, she
assessed the poor quality of William's black broadcloth
coat, and breeches. "You are a wealthy man. Besides the
income from the Kemp estates, you have the revenues from
those you inherited from your mother, God rest her soul. You
could bear the expense of half a dozen siblings." She glared
at him. "I shall ask nothing for myself, but what of my sister?"
Despite her pride, Juliana's heart pounded with fear for
Henrietta. Although she cared little for William, who had
rarely spoken a kind word to her, she adored her
eight–year old sister. She would do all in her power
to care for, and protect the child.
While she waited for William's answer, she thought how
different their lives would have been if, when she was ten
years old, Mother had not died after giving birth to
Henrietta. Although she should not question the will of God,
sometimes it was almost impossible not to.
William shifted in his seat. The brass buttons of his
waistcoat strained in the buttonholes due to the pressure of
his sizeable girth. Juliana wrinkled her nose. Unlike their
fastidious father her half–brother did not bathe
regularly. In fact, he reeked of stale perspiration,
partially masked by musky perfume which nauseated her.
"Henrietta shall go to school." William averted his eyes
from her. "After all, I am a generous man. I shall pay for
her education. She may think herself fortunate. I am under
no obligation to support her."
Juliana did not doubt he would send Henrietta to a school
which charged the smallest possible fees, one which skimped
on good food – a school at which clever Henrietta
would learn little more.
William sipped his wine. Did he want her to cry? If so he
would be disappointed. She would no more do so now than when
she was a child, and he pinched her or pulled her hair out
of jealous spite because he believed Father favoured her.
Yet William never had any reason to envy her because Father
had told her he loved William as much as he loved her and
Henrietta.
How heartless her half–brother and his wife were.
When Father died they ordered her to remain in London, and
at the time of Henrietta's greatest need confined her to
Riverside House. For the first time since their marriage two
years earlier William and Sophia returned to Riverside. Now,
William's cruel plan to send Henrietta away from home
astonished her.
"Pay attention, Juliana!"
"I am all attention. You told me you will send Henrietta
to school," Juliana said, jerked from her still raw grief by
outrage, yet determined not to make a fool of herself by
pleading with him. "Be good enough to excuse me, I must see
Henrietta. Where is she?"
"I have no patience with the snivelling brat. On my
orders, she is not allowed out of the nursery."
Juliana's dislike of William flamed like a live coal. She
could not endure the unreasonable fool's behaviour for
another moment. The sight of Father's favourite gold ring
set with a diamond on the puffy finger of William's right
hand brought a lump to her throat. The diamond, of the
finest quality, caught the light displaying the colours of
the rainbow. She coughed to check rising emotion. "I am
going to the nursery."
William raised his hand. "Grant me a moment more of your
time." He smirked. Those of your clothes my lady wife deems
suitable for your new position are in her tire woman's
chamber where you will sleep tonight."
So, Sophia had appropriated her silks and satins, velvets
and furs, before relegating her to a servant's bed!
An outraged tremor ran through Juliana. More than likely,
instead of the large bedchamber reserved for the mistress,
Sophia had moved into the smaller, more comfortable one she,
Juliana, had always slept in; the one adjoining the large
bedchamber traditionally used by the Master of Riverside.
The thought of William sleeping in her courtly father's
bed intensified her grief. Never again would Father summon
her in the morning to partake of hot chocolate and read to
him while he lay abed, while, on cold days, she sat snuggled
up on the large wingchair by the fire.
"You may go, Juliana."
How dare William dismiss her as though she was a servant?
She regarded William with acute distaste, but mindful of
her training in the ways of society, Juliana curtsied,
before she straightened her back, hands clenched at her side
to control her impotent wrath.
After she withdrew she hurried not to the nursery but to
the closet which had been her father's.
Without hesitation, Juliana opened a drawer, and pressed
a knob at the back which opened a secret drawer in a
lacquered cabinet. Smiling, she removed a drawstring purse
bulging with gold coins.
Continues...