The Queen's Favourites aka Courting Her Highness (v5) (12 page)

“I wish I could be sure of that.”

“You are certainly not sterile. You have given us good proof of that.”

Sometimes there was almost a sneer in Sarah’s voice; Anne, her feelings made raw by her recent loss, was hurt by it; and oddly enough she was reminded of the gentle sympathy of the chambermaid.

She said that she was tired and would sleep a little. Sarah, who nowadays always seemed to be seeking opportunities to leave her company, said at once that that was an excellent idea.

“Send for the chambermaid, Hill,” said Anne. “She will help me to my bed.”

“And I will see you when you are refreshed,” replied Sarah. “Then I am sure, Mrs. Morley, you will see that I am right when I implore you to stop
showing
your sorrow. I know you grieve. I still do for my darling Charles, but we have to be brave, Mrs. Morley. We have to hide our feelings from the world.”

When Sarah had left and Anne was alone with Abigail Hill, the Princess said: “Of course we cannot all hope to be as strong as dear Lady Marlborough.”

“No, Madam.”

“Although sometimes I think my dearest friend, being so
admirable
herself, has little patience with those who are weaker.”

“Your Highness is not weak.” Abigail spoke more fiercely than usual. “If I may offer my humble opinion Your Highness has shown the greatest fortitude.…”

“I have tried, Hill. But sometimes I think the loss of my darling …”

Anne began to weep and Abigail tenderly proffered the handkerchief. Anne did not seem to see it, so greatly daring Abigail wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Thank you, Hill,” said Anne. “You are very different from … your cousin.”

“I fear so, Madam.”

“Do not fear, Hill. I find your quietness to my taste.”

“My cousin is a brilliant woman and I am just Your Highness’s chambermaid.”

“Do not fret with labels, Hill. There are times when I find your presence very comforting … very comforting indeed.” Anne’s face hardened suddenly. “And there are others when I find Lady Marlborough’s most … most … unkind.”

There was a silence which horrified Anne. At last she had spoken aloud a thought which had been at the back of her mind for some time; and spoken in the hearing of Abigail Hill, Sarah’s cousin, who had been given everything she had by Sarah and must therefore be her creature.

Now there will be trouble, thought Anne.

She felt so weary that she closed her eyes and rejected Abigail’s suggestion to soothe her forehead with unguents. She felt stricken with misery. Her boy was dead and she had spoken disloyally of a woman who for years she had regarded as her dearest friend. And in the hearing of Abigail Hill who certainly would be obliged to repeat everything she heard to her cousin.

“Leave me,” said Anne weakly.

And when she was alone she began to weep silently, partly for the loss of her son and partly for the loss of an illusion.

The next time
Anne saw Sarah she waited for a reference to her disloyalty. It did not come. In fact Sarah behaved as though nothing had happened.

Was Sarah waiting for a telling moment to let fly her reproaches. No! There was one thing one could be sure of with Sarah; she was as she herself had said of a frank and free nature. She was unable to curb her feelings, particularly her anger.

If Sarah did not scold her for the words she had said in Abigail’s hearing there could be only one reason: Abigail had not told her.

How strange! She could not understand this; and her interest in the softly spoken chambermaid increased.

“Hill,” she said, some days later, “you must be very grateful to Lady Marlborough.”

“Oh yes, Madam.”

“I hear that she found your family in great distress and that she has placed your sister and brothers in good places.”

“It is true, Madam.”

“Then I suppose you feel that you must pay her back in some way.”

“I have nothing with which to pay her, Madam. I can only give her my gratitude.”

“Perhaps you feel that she is in a sense your mistress?”

Abigail’s eyes were filled with frank awe and respect. “Oh, Madam,” she said, “I have only one mistress. I do not think it would be possible for me to serve two at the same time.”

Anne nodded. Her lips framed words which she had used to Abigail several times before: “You are a good creature.”

But this time she said them with a new sincerity; and afterwards she began to look for Abigail among her women and was very contented that she should be in close attendance.

Now that her
two elder daughters were so advantageously married, Sarah was becoming very interested in politics. She and her husband were often in the company of the Godolphins and she was wooing her rather difficult son-in-law, Charles Spencer. The time was fast approaching, she was sure, when Anne would be Queen of England. William simply could not live much longer; his body was a mass of disease; everyone said it was a miracle that he could have lived so long. But he seemed to have found a new reason for living since Louis XIV, his greatest enemy, had begun his plan to rule the whole of Europe. This had been made a possibility by the appointment of his grandson Philip of Anjou to the throne of Spain. If Philip could rule independently this would not be a major issue, but was le Roi Soleil the man to stand back and let that happen? No, he wanted to rule Spain, through his grandson, as well as France and that meant that the balance of European power would be in favour of the French. It was something William could not tolerate; and he was already preparing, with the aid of Austria to stand with Holland against this.

William was more at home with his armies than in the council chambers; and so was Marlborough. This war should prove a source of inspiration and profit to John Churchill; and Sarah wanted to see him exploit his talents.

If William were to die—and any normal man in his physical condition would have been dead years before—then Anne would be ruled by the Marlboroughs, for Sarah would see to that; and with his two influential sons-in-law they would be able to stand firm against any of their political enemies.

With such a dazzling prospect before her it was difficult for Sarah to listen with patience to the tittle-tattle of Anne’s conversation.

“I do declare,” she told her husband, “that I am beginning to loathe that woman.”

“For God’s sake, Sarah, have a care of what you say.”

“My dear Marl, there is no need for you to tell me how to behave. Is it not largely my doing that we are where we are today?”

Marlborough had to admit the truth of this. “But, Sarah,” he added, “when I think of your frankness I do not know why our enemies have not overthrown us long ago.”

“Old Morley knows me as I am and accepts me as such. I have always been free with her and she has raised no objection. I am not going to change now. But as I was saying she sometimes sickens me so that I feel I shall scream if she touches me. It was clever of me to give her Abigail Hill. That creature now has to do all the
loathsome
tasks. I hear she does them well too and Anne has no complaints. She says she is a good creature. ‘Good but dull,’ I said; and she replied ‘Dullness is sometimes a comfort.’ But I do declare that she is a trial, particularly since Gloucester’s death.”

“Well, I suppose I need not tell you to be careful. You know what you are doing.”

“And when have I ever failed you?”

“Never!” Marlborough assured her.

Sarah not only
showed her growing impatience with Anne to her husband, but also to Abigail. The girl was so much her creature, Sarah believed, that she had no need to speak anything but freely in her presence.

On several occasions she spoke slightingly of the Princess and Abigail made no comment. She merely listened in that quiet way of hers as though she were not in the least surprised.

Sarah was behaving as though she were already the Sovereign.

Abigail continued surprised and startled at the effrontery of her relation; and she often wondered how Anne would feel if she knew how far Sarah went in her condemnation of her. Sarah was inclined to be what she would call frank, to Anne’s face, but of course she reserved the real abuse to be uttered behind her back.

Abigail did not speak of Sarah’s abuse of the Princess, even to Samuel Masham. She was by nature discreet and she was not sure what her position would be if Sarah fell out of favour. And she could not believe that Sarah would
not
fall out of favour if Anne heard some of the really wounding things which were said of her.

At the same time she dearly wanted to know what Anne would do if she knew how very disloyal Sarah could be.

One day she was helping the Princess to dress and Anne and she were alone together. Since her quarrel with her sister who had now been dead more than six years Anne had not stood on any great ceremony. For a time she had lived very humbly indeed at The Cockpit and Berkeley House and had even spent a month or so in the country at Twickenham, living the simple life of a noble lady. Now William realized that if he were to keep his throne he must treat Anne as the heiress and she had moved to St. James’s Palace and spent her summers at Windsor Castle, but she had not gone back to living in the state which would have been natural to her rank. Therefore there were many occasions when she allowed only one of her maids to assist at her toilet.

Abigail was looking for the Princess’s gloves when Anne said: “I remember, Hill, I left them in the adjoining room. Pray go and get them for me.”

Abigail at once obeyed, and as she opened the connecting door between the two rooms saw Lady Marlborough sitting at a table reading a letter while she absentmindedly drew on a pair of gloves which Abigail recognized as those of the Princess Anne.

For a second Abigail hesitated. She could shut the door so that whatever Sarah said would be unheard by the Princess; or she could leave it open and the words would be heard.

A fleeting temptation. Sarah would not know that Anne was within earshot, and Anne did not know that Sarah was in the next room.

Abigail held the door open for a second; then she made up her mind. Without shutting it she went to the table at which Lady Marlborough sat.

She did not speak for a second or two; then gave a discreet cough.

Sarah looked up. “Oh, it’s you, Abigail. How you creep about. You startled me.”

“I am sorry, Lady Marlborough.”

“What is it you want?”

“The Princess’s gloves. I believe you have mistaken them for your own.”

“What!” shrieked Sarah, staring down at the gloves on her hands.

“Those are the Princess’s, I believe.”

Sarah wrinkled her nose; she was aware of Abigail looking at her with astonishment, and could not resist the temptation to show this meek creature that she cared nothing for royalty, considering herself at least equal, if not above it. Certainly she felt above the foolish Princess Anne.

“That woman’s gloves!” she cried.

Abigail stepped back; and had Sarah been more observant she would have noticed that Abigail was betraying an emotion which was unusual with her, but Sarah believed the girl was admiring one who could speak so of a Princess. Well, Sarah would show her.