Courting Her Highness (54 page)

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Authors: Jean Plaidy

BOOK: Courting Her Highness
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Marlborough had returned
from the campaign which had culminated at Malplaquet. He was very anxious; he had heard from Sarah that the reception of the victory had been less enthusiastic than that of Oudenarde and that the joy which followed the news of Blenheim was entirely lacking.

The Queen, Sarah pointed out, continued devoted to her dirty chambermaid, and snake Harley with Slug St. John was continually in her presence.

As for Sarah, she had written to the Queen reminding her of all she had done for her and how she had given her friendship over the years, and had had no reply.

Marlborough himself asked for an audience with Anne.

She received him with affection. He was such a charming man and had none of his wife’s overbearing manners. Anne would always have a fondness for Mr. Freeman however much his wife provoked her. He never forgot that she was the Queen and although he was the hero of so many great battles and his brilliant generalship had astonished Europe, he was far more modest than Sarah ever was.

“Dear Mr. Freeman,” said Anne, “I am pleased to see you home safe and well and I trust you will remain here with us for a long time.”

He knelt and kissed her hand.

Marlborough replied that there was nothing which would delight him more but that he had the Queen’s interests to protect and he feared they would soon take him from home.

Anne sighed, remembering the casualty lists from Malplaquet.

“I wish,” said Marlborough, “to make sure that Your Majesty and the country are safe for ever. And there is only one way in which I can be sure of bringing this about.”

“And that way, Mr. Freeman?”

“If Your Majesty would make me Captain-General of your armies …”

“But you are that already.”

“I have my enemies, Madam. They could replace me at a moment’s notice if they banded together and were sufficiently strong against me. If Your Majesty would make me Captain-General of your armies for
life
 …”

He paused, aware of the magnitude of the demand he was making. Sarah had represented Anne to be a fool, a cipher in her hands; and although he knew that Sarah had exaggerated in her contempt for the Queen, he had accepted the fact that Anne was a simple woman.

This was not entirely true. She might love her cards and her chocolates, her gossip and her comforts, but she had a great sense of her responsibilities to her country; and she would not make a rash promise before she had first pondered the matter or consulted with those whose opinion she valued.

She understood what this would mean. The title of Captain-General for life would make Marlborough a military dictator whom none could shift.

She thought of Sarah grown more arrogant than ever, forcing her way into the royal apartments. Oh no! That would never do.

She lowered her eyes and studied her hands.

“I should need time to consider that, Mr. Freeman,” she answered.

Disappointed, but not unhopeful, Marlborough talked of other matters and after a while took his leave.

Anne was thoughtful
after the Duke had left. How right Mr. Harley and Abigail had been! It was true that the Churchills were trying to reduce her to a mere cypher; and they had begun it by joining themselves through marriage with the most influential families so that the junta was formed; and now there they were—Marlborough, Godolphin and the hateful Sunderland—ready to rule the nation. All they needed was for Marlborough to become Captain-General of the Army for life—which would mean that no one would have the power to dislodge him—and there would be the military dictatorship for which they would all be working.

Relations with Sarah were very strained; they would soon be so with her husband, for Anne was certain that she was putting no such power into the hands of Marlborough.

But how to act in a manner so tactful that she could refuse Marlborough’s demands without alienating him, for if he were to resign from his present position at this moment she could not imagine what evil might befall her armies abroad.

She considered her ministers and thought of Earl Cowper who was not of the Churchill faction, and was a man whom she trusted and who would not wish to see Marlborough supreme. She sent for him.

“My lord,” she said, “if I were to ask you to draw up a commission to make the Duke of Marlborough Captain-General of the Army for life, how would you do it?”

Cowper was momentarily speechless at such a prospect.

“Your Majesty …” he stammered at length. “Madam … I … I could not advise such an undertaking in any circumstances.”

“My Lord Marlborough has asked that his position should be made permanent,” she told him.

“Madam, it is an office which has never been bestowed, other than for the time of the Sovereign’s pleasure.”

“I know it, my lord; but now His Grace would have it otherwise.”

“But, Madam …”

“You will know what to say to His Grace, I am sure, my lord,” said the Queen with her placid smile.

Cowper did know. He first went to his friends and told them what had taken place between him and the Queen. They were immediately apprehensive and angry. Marlborough was clearly aiming at military dictatorship. How disastrous if the Queen had agreed to his request which, they believed, she might have done if the Duchess had been on the old terms with her.

In the circumstances, Cowper was able to go to the Duke, with the support of his friends, to tell him that the great seal of England would never be put to such commission.

There was consternation
throughout the Ministry. Marlborough’s preposterous suggestion was seen as a dangerous one.

Harley and St. John talked of it to their political and literary friends.

Sarah had failed to keep her hold on the Queen, it was said; so Marlborough was going to rule instead of the Queen. Military men with big ambitions should be watched.

John went down to St. Albans with Sarah. Restlessly and angrily they talked.

“Nothing goes as we could wish!” cried John; and he looked sadly at his wife, for none believed more than he did that if Sarah had retained her friendship with the Queen everything they desired would have come to them. But he never criticized her; all he would do was warn her gently. Sarah was far from gentle. She railed against Abigail Hill, for she was certain that all their troubles came from her.

“They have no gratitude,” she cried. “The nation, the Queen … nor Abigail Hill. You have won resounding victories for England; I have spent hours with the stupid woman when I would have preferred to be shut in a dungeon; I brought that whey-faced slut from a broom to a palace … and where is the gratitude, I ask you. Those who have most reason to love us turn against us.”

It was soothing to go down to Woodstock and look at the progress of Blenheim; but even that was slow and not to Sarah’s taste and she and John Vanbrugh had by now conceived a great dislike of each other.

Disgruntled and angry they returned to London. The Duke realized he had made a mistake in underestimating the Queen, and believing she would grant his request without consulting her ministers. Who would have thought that she would have called in Cowper before the commission was a
fait accompli?

He was getting old; he was tired; and in spite of his brilliant victories he had not achieved what he set out to do.

The Duke of
Argyle called on the Queen.

“Madam,” he said, “the Duke of Marlborough is a danger to the peace
of England. It is believed by some that he might attempt to seize that which has been denied him.”

“I do not believe that the Duke of Marlborough would ever turn traitor to his own country,” protested Anne.

“It is as well to be prepared, Your Majesty.”

“That is true,” agreed Anne.

“Your Majesty need have no fear. You have but to give me the alarm and I would seize Marlborough—even at the head of his troops, and bring him to you dead or alive.”

Oh dear! sighed Anne. How alarming. War was bad enough abroad, but civil war was something she could not bear to contemplate.

She thanked the Duke of Argyle and told him she would remember his promise although she trusted it would never be necessary for her to make use of the services he so kindly offered her.

Abigail found her deeply disturbed and she confided in her as she had come to in all things.

Abigail was sure that Mr. Harley would have a better plan than the Duke of Argyle who, she suggested, could be as ambitious as the Duke of Marlborough; and where would the virtue be in replacing one ambitious man for another?

Mr. Harley was brought to the green closet. He had a plan, he would bring together a secret council of men who would protect the Queen and in due course hope to be her Government, for it was possible that the Whigs would be defeated at the next election.

He agreed that at all costs the Duke of Marlborough must be watched and given no more power than he already had—which was far too much.

If the Queen would trust him he would in turn devote his life to serving her beloved Church and the Tory party.

How fortunate, Anne agreed with Abigail, that Mr. Harley was at hand.

WINE FOR A LAUNDRESS

bigail lay in her bed awaiting the birth of her
child. She felt aloof from all that intrigue which for so long had formed part of her life. It had been so for the last weeks as the time for her confinement grew nearer and nearer. A child of her own—hers and Samuel’s.

The pains had started and she had heard the women whispering in the chamber. They feared it would be a long labour, for she was small, thin, not built for child-bearing, so they said.

But she felt strong and capable of anything; and she was astonished by the softness of her feelings.

The Queen had been gracious; she knew that Anne was anxiously waiting for news. They had been pleasant, those last cosy weeks, seated at the Queen’s feet, leaning against her, talking of the Queen’s “boy,” laughing and crying together. Never had they been so close—friends, not sovereign and subject.

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