Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II (3 page)

It seemed incredible that she and Frances should have come to Court. Their father was dead and their mother had disgraced herself by telling fortunes and setting herself up as a seer, but the Jennings’ had been wealthy during the Civil War and had lost their fortune in fighting for the royalist cause; therefore some recompense was due to them and a simple way of repaying the service was to find two places at Court for the girls of the family.

Frances came to Court with her mother as her chaperon, and there the Duke of York immediately fell in love with the girl who had always been the beauty of the family, but Frances had no intention of succumbing, and had created a scandal by allowing some of the Duke’s love letters to fall at the feet of his jealous Duchess. After that the Duke left her in peace.

While Frances and her mother were enjoying Court life, Sarah was left to the care of servants in the house at St. Albans. It was not considered necessary to give her a good education; and in any case Sarah had decided she did not need one. Books did not interest her; and she believed that she was capable of learning all she needed without help. She was determined to rule that household, which she did when her mother, who was of a similar temperament, was not there to be in conflict with her.

Frances made the most of her opportunities, married and became Lady Hamilton; in time it was Sarah’s turn and she came to Court to be a maid of honor in the household of Mary Beatrice of Modena who, on the death of the first Duchess of York, had become the second.

It was not long before Sarah and her mother were quarreling. Sarah said that if her mother remained at Court, she would leave it and as a result Mrs. Jennings was asked to leave; but her retort had been that if she went she would take Sarah with her. Sarah, quickly realizing that there was a danger of the troublesome Jennings’ being sent from Court, quickly became reconciled to her mother and both remained there.

She was fortunate to be in the service of Mary Beatrice of Modena who had recently become the second wife of the Duke of York.

The first Duchess had been a woman whom Sarah must admire, for she had, in spite of great odds, married the Duke of York who was heir presumptive to the crown. And she a commoner! But she had been too fond of food and priests, and had consequently become too fat and too religious; and when that religion was Catholicism this was clearly not helpful in a Protestant land. Her luck had changed, for she had a malignant growth in her breast and after giving the Duke of York his two daughters, Mary and Anne—and sundry other children who did not live—she died. The Princesses were brought up at Richmond with Lady Frances Villiers who watched over them, her own brood of daughters, and a few other young girls who had been selected to share their childhood. Sarah became one of these.

What great good fortune! Sarah had chosen Anne as her friend understanding immediately that she would never have made the same success with Mary, who was quite different from lazy, easygoing Anne. Mary was a sentimental little girl, dreaming idly through the days, so that the biggest shock of her life had been when at fifteen she was told she was to marry the Prince of Orange.

Sarah had very soon become an important member of the royal nurseries, although Elizabeth Villiers—the eldest Villiers girl—was very sly and the only one, Sarah saw, who had to be watched. And how right she had been, for if rumors were correct, Elizabeth Villiers had already found her way into Caliban’s bed, and when one considered the Dutch Monster was cold and might be near-impotent, as many said he was, Elizabeth’s achievement was considerable.

Then John Churchill had fallen in love with Sarah. Sarah was handsome enough, her features were well defined and her glorious golden hair had a touch of red in it—but her domineering ways had frightened off most young men. All to the good, Sarah thought grimly. She wanted no partnership with a man who was easily frightened, nor with one who might attempt to underrate her. John, however, had been attracted by her character.

John, like Sarah, was an adventurer; they were both aware of this and the knowledge strengthened the attraction between them. He was the son of a Sir Winston Churchill, a country gentleman who, like so many, had lost his fortune fighting the royalist cause. There had seemed little hope of retrieving that fortune until Sir Winston’s daughter Arabella, who was no beauty, fell from her horse when in the company of the Duke of York and his suite. Arabella’s limbs were beautifully white and well formed and the Duke of York happened to catch a glimpse of them as she lay on the ground. With Arabella’s fall the Churchills’ fortunes began to rise, for she needed little persuasion to become the Duke’s mistress; and because she was more astute than the ladies James usually chose, she soon began to reap great benefits not only for herself but for other members of her family. Among these was a commission for John in the army. This was a beginning. John soon became the Master of the Robes in the Duke’s household.

John, who was something of a rake, attracted the attention of the King’s mistress, Barbara Villiers, Countess of Castlemaine, and there was a story in circulation which was often repeated. The King, it was said, had surprised Churchill with his mistress and Churchill had had to leap naked from her bed to make a hasty exit through the window into the courtyard; Charles, reaching the window in time to see who he was, shouted after him that he need have no fear; he was forgiven for he did what he did for his bread. It was true that John did accept five thousand pounds from Barbara. He was a man who, having been short of money, was very careful with it, and bought himself an annuity of five hundred pounds a year which he was able to do with four thousand five hundred.

He was ten years older than Sarah, but as soon as they met he fell deeply in love with her. His emotion was clearly genuine, for Sarah was poor. As for Sarah, she had imagined herself making a grand marriage; but the immediate attraction could not be overcome and they knew at once that they would never be happy without each other. Sarah was aware of John’s reputation, but she had no doubt of her ability to make him forsake his lechery and become a virtuous husband, because Sarah had never doubted her ability to do anything. Therefore she dismissed all the stories of the scandalous life he led. There would be no amatory adventures
after
the marriage, she was determined. But although she was seriously considering marrying John she showed no sign of eagerness, and when she heard that Sir Winston was set against his son’s marriage to this penniless Jennings girl, she declared that she certainly did not count it such an honor to marry into the Churchill family, who although they had come far, she was ready to admit, had done so solely because of John’s sister Arabella’s illicit relationship with the Duke of York. Her own sister, Frances, whom she preferred to call the Countess of Hamilton, was in Paris with her husband, and in order to escape John’s courtship and relieve the Churchills, who appeared to have such a mighty opinion of themselves, she had decided to ask leave of the Duchess of York to join Frances.

John, frantic at the thought of losing her, told her he was ready to defy his family and begged her to marry him—in secret. This Sarah considered and, deciding that once the marriage was an accomplished fact the Churchills would have to accept it, agreed.

So she became Mrs. John Churchill when she was eighteen and John twenty-eight. She had gone at once to the Italian Duchess of York and confessed to her what she had done, finding there, as she had expected, nothing but sympathy. Thus the marriage remained a secret for some months, but then the Duchess spoke to the Churchills who, since such an important lady was supporting her lady-in-waiting, could no longer keep up their objections. They received Sarah, accepting the marriage, thankful that, because of it, their son had been brought to the further notice of the Duke and Duchess of York, who, taking a personal interest in the young couple, were inclined to favor them.

The young Duchess of York, who was on very good terms with her stepchildren, listened to Anne’s eulogies on her beloved Sarah; and Sarah told Anne of the virtues of John, which were in turn passed on to the Duke and the Duchess.

It was all very satisfactory, but since the Duke of York was growing so unpopular and had, on occasions, been sent out of England on what could only be called exiles, Sarah was uncertain as to whether she had attached herself to the right faction. The Duke’s interest in Catholicism was going to ruin him if he were not careful. Anne was the Princess to whom she must adhere. The Duke’s folly was an example of how a once popular Prince could become unpopular. Sarah must be on the winning side.

Sarah’s interests had been slightly diverted from Court for a while when her daughter Henrietta had been born; and recently there had been another daughter whom Sarah had had the foresight to christen Anne. She left the children in the care of nurses, for with a husband and children to plan for, quite clearly she must act with care, and that meant remaining at Court. She had always known that the Princess was as capable of folly as her father and this affair with Mulgrave was proving that. If it were discovered that she, Sarah, had helped in that intrigue, she would be decidedly out of favor with such important people as the Duke and Duchess of York—worse still, with the King.

It was matters like this which could ruin years of careful planning; she must think very carefully of how she must act.

The King of
England was the most approachable of monarchs. He encouraged his subjects to talk to him and never doubted his ability to be able to please them; and in fact was always ready to grant the requests they made; if it was difficult to fulfill them he could always blame the failure to do so on his ministers.

When Rochester had made his famous quip pointing out that he never said a foolish thing and never did a wise one, Charles had retorted with customary wit that his words were his own, his actions his ministers. He was grateful to Rake Rochester for pointing this out; he reckoned that once this was generally understood he had the perfect excuse.

It was typical of him that he should find a way for himself out of any difficulty that arose. He often wished that his brother James were a little more like himself, because he saw trouble accumulating for James when his turn came to wear the crown.

He was sitting watching the card play, two of his favorite mistresses, Louise de Kéroualle—Duchess of Portsmouth—and Nell Gwyn, beside him. These two never failed to divert him, and together they were more amusing than apart. Louise played the great lady never so arrogantly as when in Nelly’s company and Nelly played the gutter-brat never so bawdily as when with Louise.

With great affection he regarded them; they had pleased him for many years and he hoped would continue to do so for many more; though lately he had begun to feel his vigor passing. A sad state, he thought, for a man to find his senses flagging when his greatest pleasure has been the gratification of those senses.

A pity. He had never been a great eater, drinker, or gambler. No, for him there was no pleasure like being in love.

It pleased him now to glance from Louise to Nelly and to contemplate with which he should spend the night; he knew that they too were wondering; if it were Nelly she would be boasting throughout the Court tomorrow. She was a mad, wild creature; and Louise could not understand how he tolerated her.

Louise now bent toward him and said: “A young woman was asking for an audience with Your Majesty this day.”

The King raised his eyebrows. It was unlike Louise to bring young women to his notice.

“I’ll warrant she comes to ask a favor for herself,” he murmured.

“Or for Mademoiselle Carwell,” added Nelly quietly.

Louise flashed her a look of hatred; nothing could anger her more than to hear the people’s version of her name. Kéroualle—Carwell. The King’s lips turned up at the corners.

“Come, Nelly,” he said, “you ladies know that if you desire aught you have no need to send others to plead for you.”

“The best beggars often train others to beg for them, Your Majesty,” retorted Nelly. “It’s a good trade … begging for beggars.”

“You should be well aware of such trades,” said Louise. “I am afraid I lack your knowledge.”

“I’ll teach you one fine day,” Nelly told her. “Catholic whores should learn to keep up with the Protestants.”

Louise shuddered, and the King said: “More of the fair young beggar.”

“It was one of the Princess Anne’s women, Your Majesty. She would tell me nothing, and said she could tell it to none but Your Majesty. It was Churchill’s wife.”

The King laughed at the mention of Churchill. He thought of an occasion when he had called on Barbara and caught her with that young man.

“Churchill,” he said. “They tell me the fellow has reformed since his marriage.”

“I have heard it too, Your Majesty.”

“God’s fish, he was in need of reformation.”

“If all those who were in need of reformation reformed, the Court would be a sadder place,” suggested Nelly, looking slyly at the King.