The Queen's Favourites aka Courting Her Highness (v5) (49 page)

“She brought us here,” said Alice. “It’s something I try to remind myself of now and then.”

“That she might use us,” retorted Abigail. “Do you remember how she constantly reminded us of what she did for us?”

“And still does.”

“She does not remind me.”

“Oh, you, Abigail, you have become more important than she is. Abigail, I have heard it said …”

“Yes?”

“That you rule the Queen just as Sarah Churchill once did.”

“She listens to me.”

“Oh, Abby … Though it doesn’t seem right to call you that now. My own sister. You, Abigail Hill, to be the friend of the Queen!”

“And others …” murmured Abigail, thinking of Robert Harley. Her eyes went to Samuel—the general at the table. That was all he was capable of. He would never be a Marlborough … never a Harley. If she and Harley … But that was a dream long ago abandoned. She must use what she had at her disposal and not reach out for the impossible as Sarah had done.

Alice was smiling at her with something like adoration. She would not forget that the present respect she enjoyed in the royal household was due to her sister.

Abigail savoured that adoration. Alice had sent her thoughts back to the past and she saw now a poorly furnished bedroom where she and Alice had tried on the cast-off dresses of the Churchill girls; she saw herself and her sister studying their reflections—Alice plump and gay, Abigail pale and thin. Then Alice had pitied Abigail, the plain one.

It was a different story now. She had shown them that a pale, plain face was no deterrent. She had an adoring husband; Alice had none; she had the Queen’s love; and the admiration of a brilliant statesman.

She felt all powerful and she said on impulse, “I must see what I can do for Jack. As soon as a Colonelcy falls vacant I shall speak to the Queen on his behalf.”

“Oh … Abby!”

“Not a word yet. We’ll wait, and it’ll be a surprise for him.”

“What of Sam?”

“His turn will come,” answered Abigail serenely.

Those were trying
weeks for the Queen. She wanted to be rid of her Government but could see no means of constitutionally doing so. It cheered her to know that her people were firmly behind her, but this in itself would not rid her of men whom she so heartily wished to dismiss.

She had not seen Sarah since the last outburst, but Sarah continued to write. It seemed that the woman must give in to her feelings somehow, and she could not rid herself of the desire to direct. The insolence of the woman was almost past belief; as Anne said to Abigail, if she had not the evidence before her eyes such behaviour would seem incredible.

Christmas had passed and the unsatisfactory state of affairs still persisted. Sacheverel was still waiting trial; and a great deal would depend on the outcome of that. But the new year, Anne told Abigail, would bring great changes.

They were sitting in the green closet when a messenger brought a package which by the writing on the outside Anne knew to come from Sarah.

She sighed and calling Abigail to her stool, asked her to open the package. This Abigail did and together they read Sarah’s long letter of recrimination and advice.

“There is a copy here of Jeremy Taylor’s Holy Living and Dying together with a prayer book,” said Abigail.

Anne read Sarah’s letter and sighed. How could she ever have cared so deeply for such a woman. Sarah once more told her of her follies and how she should reform. The passages marked in the books were meant to convey a lesson to the Queen.

Sarah Churchill for all her vitality, for all her arrogance, thought the Queen, was a fool. She wants to return to her old place and everything she does makes me feel that I never want to see her again.

“What shall I do with the books, Madam?” asked Abigail.

“Put them in a drawer and let us forget them. These are very trying times, Abigail. I should like to get away for a short time to
think.
”

“Yes, Madam. Have you anywhere in mind?”

“I like the quiet of Hampton.”

“Shall I make preparations at once?”

Anne’s fingers rested on the sandy hair. What a comfort! she thought. How
different
!

Hampton was delightful
even in January. The Queen used a small chamber because of the cold, and it was very cosy to sit there with Abigail and talk of pleasant things like the virtues of Prince George and the brilliance of their boy; the future of Samuel Masham and the charms of his daughter Anne.

But there were other matters which could not be ignored.

“How I long to be rid of this Marlborough junta. But how? Only an election can dislodge them.”

“The people are eager to be rid of them too, Madam.”

“Yes, but the Ministry cannot be dismissed as easily as that. There is one drawback to Hampton, Masham. Mr. Harley cannot visit me so secretly. If he came to Hampton he might be seen. And then there would be talk. From St. James’s it was easy for you to take a message; but if you left Hampton your absence would be noticed. You are being watched now, my dear.”

“Oh yes,” said Abigail. “I am not simply the chambermaid now. But perhaps an idea will occur to us.”

“We will watch for it,” said the Queen.

It came when the Lieutenant of the Tower, the Earl of Essex, died. The Marlborough faction immediately chose one of their men to fill the vacant post, which was, naturally, in accordance with their policy.

“Your Majesty cannot allow them another victory,” warned Abigail. “You should decide on the man for the post and insist.”

“You are right of course. How I wish it were possible for you to bring Mr. Harley up to me by way of the back stairs so that I could discuss this matter with him.”

Abigail agreed on the wisdom of this. But how bring Mr. Harley to Hampton without attracting attention?

“If we send someone with a message to him—someone who is so humble that his departure would not be noticed …” began Abigail.

“But it must be someone whom we could trust,” replied the Queen.

“Your Majesty is surrounded by servants who long to serve you.”

“We must select carefully, my dear,” replied Anne.

They chose one of the gardeners. He was astounded when Abigail approached him as he worked in the gardens and gave him a letter which she said the Queen wished him to take with all speed to Mr. Harley in Albemarle Street. The man expressed his willingness to serve the Queen; and even the lowest servant knew that Mrs. Masham came direct from the Queen—in fact they were saying in the household and in the streets that Mrs. Masham was closer to the Queen than the mighty Duchess of Marlborough had ever been.

Knowing that he
would come promptly in answer to the Queen’s command, Abigail was watching for the arrival of Harley.

For a few moments, before he was conducted to the Queen, they were alone together.

“I thought this was the time to send for you,” Abigail told him.

He surveyed her from under his curiously hodded eyes, and as she smelt the strong smell of spirits, she was, for a moment, dismayed. She prayed he would not allow his love for drink to impair his talents; but need she have worried? He had always been a heavy drinker; he had once told her that he needed the stimulus of wine and was at his most brilliant when he was as near intoxication as such a hardened drinker could get.

“Wise Abigail,” he murmured, taking her hand and kissing it. His eyes were tender, but she knew that his caresses meant nothing; and she was too wise a woman to go on sighing for the impossible.

“The death of Essex is important,” she went on. “Your man must have the Tower … not Marlborough’s.”

He nodded.

“And Marlborough has already decided on the Duke of Northumberland.”

“Marlborough must be disappointed. We want the Tower for Rivers.”

“So I thought. The outcome of this will be the pointer we need. If we win … then …”

“The ultimate victory cannot be far off. My dear Abigail, you are my most able general.”

“An election now and Godolphin and Marlborough will be out. And you in … The Queen’s first minister.”

Once more he kissed her hand. “I shall not forget … Abigail.”

“Essex leaves a Colonelcy vacant as well as his office at the Tower. I would like that for my brother.”

“I am sure Her Majesty will be only too delighted to grant your request.”

He left her and went to the Queen’s apartment.

Sarah was furious
.

“Jack Hill … a colonel in your Army. Good God, Marl, now they have gone too far.”

“They’re going to defeat us over this matter of the Tower, but I’ll be damned if I’ll give Abigail Hill’s brother a regiment.”

“You should resign rather.”

John looked sadly at Sarah. She would never understand the importance of tact. He was determined that Jack Hill should not have the regiment, but the matter would have to be settled with diplomacy.

When Godolphin presented himself to Anne and she expressed her wishes that John Hill should become a colonel he assured her of the impossibility of this.

“My lord Marlborough will explain to Your Majesty why this cannot be.”

“I see nothing but frustration,” cried Anne. “It seems that you, sir, work continually against me.”

Godolphin with tears in his eyes protested, but the fact that she could not grant Abigail one of the few requests she had made, hurt Anne. A colonelcy in the army! It seemed such a small thing to ask—and it was so natural that Abigail should want it for her brother. Yet she, the Queen, was not allowed to make it.

Godolphin left in despair.

Marlborough called on the Queen, who regarded him coolly.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “my enemies have distorted my action and I fear I have been greatly misrepresented in your eyes.”

Anne bowed her head and stared at her fan.

“I want to have a chance to clear myself of the calumnies of my enemies.”

“Pray proceed,” said the Queen.

“There is a charge against me that I made an attempt to become a military dictator of this country. That is false.”

The Queen did not answer. Had he not come to her himself and asked for the Captain-Generalcy for
life
? What else did that mean? Oh, she was weary of these Marlboroughs!