Courting Her Highness (2 page)

“But he is looking more frail every week.”

“That is why it was a mistake to dress Gloucester up in all that finery. It was almost proclaiming him Prince of Wales before his mother is Queen.”

“I wonder,” said Barbara with a hint of sarcasm, “that you did not warn his mother since she would most assuredly listen to
you.
”

“I did warn her.”

“And she disobeyed?” Veiled insolence! Sarah had never liked Barbara Fitzharding since the days when as young Barbara Villiers she had lived with the circle of girls, Sarah among them, who had been brought up by Barbara’s mother, with the young Princesses Anne and Mary in Richmond Palace.

“She is so besotted about that boy.”

“He is her son.”

“He is being pampered. I would not let one of mine be indulged as he is.”

Was this a reflection on Barbara’s governess-ship? Barbara disliked Sarah Churchill—who at Court did not?—and although she might rule the Princess Anne’s household, Barbara was not going to allow her to interfere in that of the Duke of Gloucester.

“He is by no means indulged. He merely happens to be an extremely intelligent boy. In fact, I have never known one more intelligent.”

“Have you not? I must invite you to St. Albans one day and you shall meet
my
children.”

Barbara laughed. “Everything you have must naturally be better than other people’s.”

“
Must
always be? What do you mean by that? My children are strong, healthy, intelligent, which is not to be wondered at. Compare their father with that … oaf … I can call him nothing else … who goes around babbling ‘Est-il possible?’ to everything that is said to him! Prince George of Denmark! I call him Old Est-il-Possible! And when I do everyone knows to whom I refer.”

“One would think you were the royal Princess—Her Highness, your servant,” said Barbara. “You ought to take care, Sarah Churchill. You should think back to the days when you first joined us at Richmond. You were fortunate, were you not, to find a place there? It was the greatest good luck … for you. You must admit that you were not of the same social order as the rest of us. We were noble and you …”

“Your relative, Barbara Villiers—my lady Castlemaine as she
became—put honours in your family’s way because she was an expert performer in the King’s bedchamber. We had no such ladies in our family.”

“Your husband I believe did very well out of his relationship with my Lady Castlemaine. She paid him for his services to her … in the bedchamber. Was it five thousand pounds with which he bought an annuity? You must find that very useful now that my lord Marlborough is out of favour and has no office at the Court.”

If there was one person in the world whom Sarah truly loved it was her husband, John Churchill, Earl of Marlborough; and although he had had a reputation as a rake before their marriage, he had, she was certain, remained absolutely faithful to her since. This reference to past indiscretions aroused her fury.

She slapped Barbara Fitzharding’s face.

Barbara, taken aback, stared at her, lifted her hand to retaliate and then remembered that there must be no brawling between women in positions such as theirs.

But her anger matched Sarah’s.

“I’m not surprised at your mode of behaviour,” she said. “It is hardly to be wondered at. And besides being arrogant and ill-mannered you are also cruel. I should be ashamed, not to have poor relations, but to turn my back on them while they starve.”

“What nonsense is this?”

“It is no nonsense. I heard only the other day the distressing story of the Hill family. I was interested … and so was my informant … because of their connection with the high and mighty Lady Marlborough! Your uncle, aunt and cousins … dying of starvation! Two girls working as servants, I hear, two boys running about the streets, ragged and hungry.”

“A pitiable story and one which does credit to your imagination, Lady Fitzharding.”

“A pitiable story, Lady Marlborough, but it owes nothing to my imagination. Go and see for yourself. And let me tell you this, that I shall not feel it my duty to keep silent about this most shameful matter.”

Sarah for once was speechless, and when Lady Fitzharding flounced out of the room she stared after her, murmuring: “Hill! Hill!” The name was familiar. Her grandfather Sir John Jennings, she had heard her own
father say, had had twenty-two children and one of these, Mary, had married a Francis Hill who was a merchant of London.

Sarah had heard nothing of him since. One did not need to keep in touch with one’s merchant connections—except of course when they were likely to bring disrepute.

Sarah made one of her prompt decisions.

Something must be done about the Hills.

It was too
delicate a matter to delegate. She must deal with it herself.

Sombrely dressed she drove to the address she had discovered—a perilous journey, for the streets of London were unsafe even by day, and robbers had a way of knowing the quality, however quietly dressed.

She dismounted at the house—a poor place—and told the coachman to wait, for she would not be long. Two boys in ragged clothes were lounging at the door and looked at her in surprise.

“Do the Hills live here?” she asked imperiously.

They told her, in voices which suggested a certain amount of education, that they did.

“And you?” she demanded.

“Our name is Hill.”

Inwardly she shivered. These ragged creatures her relations! It was incredible. Something must be done … quickly. She was not going to allow that Fitzharding woman to spread scandal about her.

“Take me to your parents,” she commanded.

The house was clean, for which she was thankful, but when she came face to face with Mary and Francis Hill she was horrified. Their state of emaciation was clearly due to starvation.

“I am Sarah Churchill,” she announced. “Sarah Jennings that was.”

Mary Hill gave a little cry and said: “So
you’re
Sarah.… I have of course heard much of you.”

“And I have heard of you. This is terrible. But I will remedy it. Those are your sons. Here, boy, go and buy food … as quickly as you can.”

She gave him money and both boys went off.

“Now,” said Sarah, “you had better tell me everything.”

“You, Francis,” began his wife.

“It is not an unusual story,” Francis explained. “I was a merchant. My business failed. I became bankrupt and over the last months have had to sell our possessions in order to live. We have become poorer and poorer. We came to this place to live. It is the best we can afford. There is very little money left and I do not know where we shall turn for more.”

“Those boys …?”

“They can earn a penny here and there … but it is not enough to keep us.”

“And you?”

“I have tried, but my strength seems to have deserted me.”

Sarah could understand why. Malnutrition! There was little strength in either of them.

“So there are you and the two boys.”

“The girls were more fortunate. They found places.”

“Places!”

“Yes. Abigail and Alice are in service. Abigail has a good post with Lady Rivers.”

“What as?”

“As a maid in the house.”

A maid! thought Sarah. My cousin … a maid to Lady Rivers! A nice state of affairs! Lady Rivers might come to Court and bring her servants with her. And among these the cousin of Lady Marlborough!

“It is fortunate that I have discovered this. You must tell me everything. Hold nothing back. I will find places for all the children—those two boys and the girls. As for you, I shall leave you ten guineas for the time being and we will decide what has to be done.”

Sarah then began firing questions at the couple who, trembling with excitement and hope, answered them. She sat upright on the chair they had given her, while her busy mind was working. Two boys … perhaps a place in the Custom House for one and the other … well, she would see. As for the girls, she must consider what could be done for them, and when the children were in good positions they could help support their parents; in the meantime she would see that they did not starve.

The boys returned with food and it was shocking to see the manner in which it was immediately devoured.

Sarah was horrified; but at the same time pleased by their homage. It was quite clear that they thought her an angel in disguise, the omnipotent, beautiful benefactress!

It was pleasant to be so regarded and she knew that without a great deal of effort she would be able to bestow such benefits on the Hill family that would make them her willing slaves for ever.

Help to Mary
and Francis Hill had come a little too late. A few days after Sarah’s visit Francis died; Mary was so stricken with sorrow, and suffering from the same disease caused by starvation, quickly followed him.

Now Sarah had only the four orphans to settle, and she ordered the two girls to return to their parents’ house to attend the funerals. She sent off money and cast-off clothes to the family and busied herself with planning what to do with them.

The boys must be settled first. The thought of them running about the streets in rags horrified her. She told the Princess Anne about her discovery of these needy relations—for she was anxious that Barbara Fitzharding should not start circulating her stories before she had had a chance of putting her own case—and Anne was immediately sympathetic.

“My dear Mrs. Freeman has the kindest heart!” she sighed.

“I want to place them all as soon as possible,” Sarah told her.

“I am sure Mrs. Freeman will know what to do for the best.”

She did. It was infuriating that Marl should be out of favour; but she consoled herself that all the slights and humiliations would be forgotten once Dutch William was no more and Anne was Queen. She was very impatient for that much longed for event; so after hurrying down to St. Albans, where Marl was staying with the children, and talking over the matter with him, she went, with his blessing, to see their old friend Sidney Godolphin.

Godolphin was such an adept politician that although he was a Tory and the Ministry was mainly Whig, he retained his position in the Treasury.
Godolphin was well aware that Marlborough’s decline into the shadows was only temporary and he was anxious not to offend Sarah, so he listened intently to her request and offered at once to find a place for the eldest Hill boy in the Custom House.

Having taken this step she decided once more to pay a visit to the humble house and see the creatures for herself.

When Lady Marlborough
declared her intention of visiting the young Hills, there was immediate tension throughout the house.

“It was,” said Alice, “like a royal command.”

“It is indeed so,” replied Abigail. “Everyone knows that our important female relative is greatly admired by the Princess Anne who takes her advice in all things.”

“She rules royalty,” agreed Alice. “I’ll wager she will find places for us.”

“Being penniless you have nothing with which to wager,” Abigail reminded her.

“Don’t be so prim, Abby! I do declare you don’t seem the least excited. Don’t you realize how fortunate we are to have such a benefactress?”