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"Dancing, and now skating," William said to me as we took off our coats and mittens after skating, huffing a bit with his snorting laughter. "Is there no end to what you will have us do?" I had convinced him to dance with his wife, my cousin Mary, at a ball for the first time less than a week ago. He had reluctantly admitted he did not find it wholly terrible and might -- only might -- have found it somewhat enjoyable.
"Now then," I said, grinning widely with the memory of the brisk air and wind, "I'm not having you do anything so out of the ordinary, am I?" Indeed, the dancing was only what one might expect of the Prince and Princess of Orange, and more than one courtier had made a comment in my hearing to that effect. And, of course, skating was something every Dutch child did from practically the cradle upwards.
"But without you," William observed, "Mary would not have done it." From another man, this might have sounded accusing; from William, it was merely a statement of fact.
"No," Mary said, having already sat at the table with a warm posset in front of her, "I dare say I would not have." Her mouth was grave, but her dark eyes danced. "Come, James, sit down with us." She pulled me down between her and William. "Oh! James, your hands are still like ice. William, feel them." She put one of my hands in between hers and William's, which indeed somehow were warmer than mine, though they had spent quite as much time in the cold air as I had.
William looked at Mary, and some communication passed between them which I was not privy to. Mary said, her eyes suddenly more serious, "When I was learning to bend my knees, during skating -- you told me not to think about it. Is that what you do, James? Not think about it? England, I mean. Your father."
My father the king. "Not quite," I said. "But I am content. I have to be." And I was content, there with Mary and William as we had been so many days and evenings that winter.
William gave me a canny look, and pressed his hand against mine where it was still caught against theirs. "I would counsel you not to think about it. And we are content to have you here."
"I know," I said heavily, "and I am more grateful than I can say. Though I know I must be a burden on you --"
"Oh no!" Mary burst out, and at the same time William smiled, the expression that made him look like a hunting dog, and said, "As I have told you before, James, I would welcome you if only to cause chagrin to -- to others." He did not look at Mary as he said that. "But also --"
"But also," Mary said softly, "we take great pleasure from your presence, cousin."
I had not noticed before how close the three of us were. I felt I could hardly breathe, and my heart seemed to be beating faster; and yet I did not want either of them to draw away.
William said, "After I had my -- affair --" here he did glance at Mary, an apologetic look -- "I had hurt her. More than I had wanted." All this was clearly hard for him to say, but he said it, as he had once said to me that he loved her. "And so we talked. About what would happen if we had wants, that could hurt someone. And what we could do so that they would not hurt."
It seemed that he was changing the subject from Mary's words, but I did not understand. Their hands still curved warm around mine, and I felt somehow that this was making me light-headed. "I admire your marriage," I said uncertainly. "You --"
I do not know how I would have finished that sentence. William leaned over and kissed me. And then I understood he had not been changing the subject at all. And I also understood that this was something I, perhaps, had wanted that whole time we had been dancing and sleigh-riding and skating, only I had not understood it. William had understood more than I.
And Mary?
"I suppose I had never quite gotten over being in love with you, James," Mary said, as if she had heard my thought, and leaned her head against my shoulder. "And -- William and I talked, and thought that if you did not protest, we might share you." And then she lifted her head and kissed me as well.
With both of them so close, and my lips still tingling from their kisses, I do not think I was capable of any protest except one. "But," I said, hardly able to think, so heady was their effect upon me, "but Harriet --"
Mary smiled and put a finger to my lips. "Harriet and I have discussed matters, James. She thought that we should talk together, today, and that she would join us tomorrow." And she kissed me again.