Courting Her Highness (42 page)

There seemed no
reason why Abigail’s marriage should be delayed any longer. Samuel was eager for it and Abigail was willing.

Dr. Arbuthnot, the Queen’s Scottish doctor, who had learned to admire and respect Abigail during their encounters in the sick room, was interested in the couple.

“I would not care,” he had said, “to see Your Majesty bereft of Mrs. Hill. This is a marriage after my own heart, for the bride’s home will still be in Your Majesty’s bedchamber.”

“I am pleased too,” agreed Anne, “for I could not do without Hill. And it is a great pleasure to me to see her happy. I have had the best husband in the world and my marriage would have been completely happy if it had been … fruitful.”

“Well we’ll hope that Mrs. Hill enjoys both the felicity and the fruit, Madam.”

“I shall pray that she does.”

“And when is the ceremony to take place, Madam?”

“You must consult Hill about that, Dr. Arbuthnot,” said the Queen benignly.

So the doctor did. It was difficult, Abigail explained. She could scarcely expect to be married in the royal apartments, and she was anxious for the marriage to remain something of a secret for a time. She and Samuel wanted no hindrances.

Dr. Arbuthnot nodded. Like Abigail he was thinking of the Duchess of Marlborough. She had no right to interfere with Abigail’s marriage, but she was not one to look for a right before interfering.

This matter of Sunderland had in Arbuthnot’s opinion not helped the Queen’s health. He had said to his wife: “The more we keep that woman from the Court the better for Her Majesty.”

“Mrs. Arbuthnot would take it an honour if you were wedded in our apartment,” he said.

Abigail’s plain face was alight with pleasure.

“Oh, doctor, that is kind of you and Mrs. Arbuthnot!”

“Get away with ye,” said the doctor. “We’ll be glad to do a turn for you.”

When Abigail went back to the Queen, Anne noticed that she was looking pleased and Abigail told her of Dr. Arbuthnot’s suggestion.

“He is a good man,” said Anne. “I am pleased. Sit down, Hill. Oh dear, I shall have to learn to call you Masham. I shall come to the wedding to give you my blessing, my dear.”

Abigail took the swollen hand and kissed it.

“How can I ever thank Your Majesty.”

“Hill, I have much for which to thank you. You are a comfort to me … a very great comfort.”

There was silence for a few moments then Abigail said: “Madam, Masham and I thought that it might be better to keep our marriage a secret for a while. There might be some who, in the first place, might try to prevent it and, in the second, might grow angry because permission had not been asked. Have I your Majesty’s permission to avoid this … this inconvenience?”

Anne’s lips tightened for a moment. Abigail without looking at her was aware of this and knew that she was thinking of the Duchess of Marlborough who had so recently scored the victory of Sunderland—at least she thought it was a victory.

“I think it is good, Hill, always to avoid inconvenience when possible.”

The matter was settled.

Abigail Hill was to be married to Samuel Masham in the apartments of Dr. Arbuthnot. The Queen would be present—but the Duchess of Marlborough should be kept in ignorance of the event.

Mrs. Danvers had
been feeling unwell for a long time, and one morning she awoke and said to herself: “I believe I am dying.”

She rose from her bed and tottered to her mirror. Her face looked yellow. Of course she was getting old. She had come to the Queen when Anne was a young girl and had been with her all through the reigns of Charles II, James II, William and Mary, and now Anne’s own. Not that they were long reigns, but still they represented a number of years.

Life had been interesting, living close to great events; perquisites had
been rewarding—at least they had until Her Grace of Marlborough had become so watchful of the wardrobe.

And today Her Grace might be coming to visit her, on the invitation of Mrs. Danvers herself. On the other hand she might not come, for the Duchess of Marlborough could ignore what was almost a summons from one in Mrs. Danvers’ position.

“Lord,” thought Mrs. Danvers, “I’d never dared have asked her but for the child.”

The child was her daughter—not such a child either, for she was old enough to have a place in the Queen’s bedchamber. Of course she could have asked the Queen herself and been sure of a sympathetic hearing; but over the last years it had become a habit only to ask favours of the Queen through the Duchess. For if the Queen granted a favour and the Duchess thought it should not have been granted, she would find some means to prevent the benefit being bestowed.

All those about the Queen had long ago realized that it was the Duchess who ruled.

Nothing could change that, Mrs. Danvers told herself, nothing at all. That was why, in spite of the Duchess’s overbearing manner one continued to placate her, and realized that it was necessary to serve her.

Lately there had been a change in the immediate royal circle. The Queen was clearly growing more and more incapacitated; but she did not seem to fret for the Duchess’s company as she once did. It was always: “Hill! Hill! Where is Hill?”

One would have thought that Hill had been the servant who had been with her since she was a child, by the confidence she put into that young woman!

Danvers did not like Hill. Hill was calm, never lost her temper, never answered back; but Mrs. Danvers was convinced that Hill was “deep.” When the Duchess was angry the whole Court knew it; she was frank and open, as she was fond of saying. With Hill it was another matter.

One had to beware of Hill. Everyone should beware of Hill. Perhaps even the Duchess.

Mrs. Danvers had been turning over in her mind for some time how to approach this matter, how to explain why she, the humble Danvers, had dared ask the mighty Duchess to visit her. She could not say: “I want you
to look after my daughter when I am gone.” But she could say: “I think I should warn Your Grace that something strange is going on between the Queen and Abigail Hill.”

She dressed slowly and rested, for the Queen had given her leave of absence from her duties and as she lay on her bed she rehearsed what she would say if and when the Duchess arrived.

Sarah came to
the Castle from the Lodge. She intended to see the Queen over the matter of a certain Mrs. Vain for whom she wanted a place in the bedchamber.

The Queen had been piqued since the affair of Sunderland, but Sarah had made up her mind that she would not allow such nonsense to persist. There was no need for Anne to sulk because Sarah and her ministers had made her see that her duty to the country came before personal prejudice.

It was for this reason doubtless that she had refused the appointment to Mrs. Vain. Godolphin had asked for it and Marl was in favour of it. The woman would be a friend to them and Godolphin and Marlborough believed they needed more friends in the bedchamber.

“I have installed Hill there,” she had told them. “Hill will never forget what I have done for her.”

“Hill is too dull and too servile. She scarcely sees anything,” was Godolphin’s answer.

“No, but she is often with the Queen and I fancy no one would dare speak against me in Hill’s hearing knowing her to be my woman and that I should certainly be told.”

“All the same it would be good to have Mrs. Vain there.”

“I will speak to her this very day,” Sarah promised.

She scarcely waited to greet the Queen before she brought up the matter of Mrs. Vain.

“Such an excellent woman, Mrs. Morley. I can vouch for her. I know that she would give you good service.”

“I am sure anyone recommended by Mrs. Freeman would be excellent.”

“Then I shall send her to you without delay.”

“But,” said Anne, “I do not want a bedchamber woman.”

“Mrs. Vain is a most agreeable creature.”

“I am sure she is all that Mrs. Freeman says she is.”

“Danvers has not been looking well lately.”

“Poor Danvers, I fear she is getting old.”

“She should be sent away for a holiday. With Mrs. Vain in attendance she would not be missed.”

“We could manage very well without Danvers for a while.”

“There would be no need to
manage
. With Mrs. Vain …”

“But I do not want a bedchamber woman,” said Anne. “And when I have one, she will not be a married woman.”

“My dear Mrs. Morley must take greater care of her health.”

“I am very well served and Mrs. Freeman need have no fears on that account.”

“But with Danvers’ health failing …”

“Hill and the others manage very well.”

“I will send Mrs. Vain to you and then Your Majesty will see for yourself.”

Anne’s fan came up to her lips and stayed there.

“I do not want a bedchamber woman,” she said. “And when I do I shall choose an unmarried woman.”

Really, thought Sarah, this was becoming too tiresome when there had to be a battle over the installation of a new bedchamber woman! But it was no use talking to Anne when she was in that mood.

Sarah took her leave and went to keep her appointment with Mrs. Danvers.

The woman certainly
looked ill.

“It was good of Your Grace to come,” she said, curtseying with great respect.

“What’s the matter, Danvers?”

“I am getting old, Your Grace and I fancy I haven’t long for this world. I have something on my mind … and I felt it was my duty to put this before Your Grace.”

“Well, what is it?”

“It is not easy to say it, but I’m anxious on account of my daughter. If I should die I should like to know that Your Grace would … keep an eye on her.”

“Oh,” said the Duchess.

“Yes, Your Grace. She’s a good girl and would be most grateful to Your Grace, and you will understand a mother’s anxiety.”

“I understand,” said the Duchess, “and if an opportunity should arise I will see that your daughter is not forgotten.”

“She would serve you well and would not be like some.… It is on this matter that I asked Your Grace to call.”

The Duchess’s brilliant blue eyes opened wider and she cried: “What’s that?”

“Well, Your Grace, I was thinking of Abigail Hill.”

“What of Abigail Hill?”

“Your Grace did everything for her but she has not repaid you well. I meant that my daughter would …”

“Not repaid me well! What does that mean?”

“Your Grace knows that it is her most earnest endeavour to take your place with Her Majesty.”

“Take my place! Are you mad, Danvers? That … 
insect
!”

“She is sly, Madam.”

“Sly! She’s … insignificant.”

“The Queen does not find her so.”

“The Queen says she makes a good poultice. That is the limit of Madam Abigail’s abilities.”

“No, Your Grace …”

The Duchess was speechless. That this bedchamber woman should have the effrontery to contradict her! It was incredible!

“Danvers, allow me to know best.”

“Certainly, Your Grace.”

“You’re wandering in your mind, Danvers.”