The Queen's Favourites aka Courting Her Highness (v5) (30 page)

No wonder she was excited. She had entered into a liaison—strange and mysterious as yet—with one of the Queen’s leading ministers. She, Abigail Hill, might yet take a part in shaping her country’s destiny.

A delightful man
, this Robert Harley, thought Anne. Such pleasant conversation. Hill played the harpsichord softly—a piece of Purcell’s which was among Anne’s favourites. George dozed contentedly and Mr. Harley told her what she most wanted to hear, how fortunate her dear people were to have such a monarch. In the coffee houses and taverns they talked continually of her as the Good Queen. The revival of touching for the King’s Evil had touched
them
deeply. Such a clever way Mr. Harley had of expressing himself. He hinted that the people of England rejoiced in their Queen and that they felt it was an act of Providence which had brought her to the throne. That was very comforting, for always at the back of her mind was the memory of her father, who had been so devoted to her, and whom she had been led to betray.

Led to betray. Mrs. Freeman had been so vehement against him, and in those days she had believed that Mrs. Freeman was always right.

Mrs. Freeman was still her very best and dearest friend, but she did spend a lot of time away from the Court. She was continually going to St. Albans and always managed to be at Windsor Lodge when the Court was
not
in residence. If one did not know what heavy family commitments were Mrs. Freeman’s, one would almost think she deliberately set out to
avoid
her poor unfortunate Morley.

How her thoughts ran on, and there was amusing Mr. Harley being so pleasant.

He had discovered he was Hill’s cousin and seemed pleased about it. She was pleased too. It was good for Hill to be connected with a family like the Harleys.

“We have something more in common, Madam, than our cousinship, and that is our desire to serve you—a desire which is unrivalled throughout your kingdom.”

What charming things he said! And when he had gone she told Hill how pleased she was to discover that she had such an exalted relative. Of course she was some distant connection of Mrs. Freeman, but Mrs. Freeman had never treated her as anything but the humblest of poor relations. Mr. Harley on the other hand had nothing but respect for her.

Anne felt a flicker of uneasiness. If Hill became too exalted, might that not alter her? Suppose she became too proud to perform the menial tasks which she now did so cheerfully? Suppose she became arrogant and demanding … like some people.

Nonsense, said the Queen to herself, that would not be
my
Hill!

That was the
first of many meetings, and it became the accepted procedure that on those occasions when the Queen said: “No visitors,” Abigail would let in Mr. Harley and he and the Queen would chat together—not necessarily of state affairs, but now and then they crept in and Mr. Harley never made them dull or boring. He explained everything so perfectly and was never arrogant or obscure. Secretly Anne much preferred him to Sidney Godolphin, who was so cold and formal in spite of his timidity and desire to please. Mr. Harley amused one and laughed at people in the nicest possible way so that one could not help joining in the fun.

George’s asthma was troubling him more than ever, which meant that his night’s sleep was often broken; he dozed more frequently during the day and perhaps this was as well, for he had become such a staunch admirer of the Freemans since Blenheim that he might not have appreciated some of Mr. Harley’s wit.

It was not that it was exactly aimed at Marlborough and his Duchess, but somehow they were included in it; and Anne, in spite of her desire to be loyal to her dearest friend, had to recognize the truth of some of Mr. Harley’s comments.

Mr. Harley was so devoted to the Church, and anyone who cared so much for the spiritual well-being of the nation was Anne’s friend. Dear Mrs. Freeman had never been reverent; in fact sometimes Anne had feared that she was almost irreligious; so how pleasant it was to listen to a clever politician talk with such reverence for the Church!

“The Church,” said Mr. Harley, “could be in danger from certain elements in this country. I am sure Your Majesty would want above all else to keep it strong and aloof from conflict.”

“It would be my first consideration, Mr. Harley.”

“I knew it.”

“And you really think that the Church is being put in jeopardy in … certain quarters?”

“I think this may be so, and when I have some proof of this I shall crave permission to set it before Your Majesty.”

“I pray you will without delay.”

He talked to her about the glorious age which was opening out for England. There were certain times in a country’s history, he said, which were known as glorious ages. The Elizabethan age had been one; and now there was another glorious Queen on the throne and the glory of the age was becoming apparent through the literature of the times.

There were some in the country who sought to suppress this. One of the greatest writers of the age was at this moment languishing in prison.

Who was this? Anne wanted to know.

It was Daniel Defoe. A charge had been trumped up against him. An age which imprisoned its great writers was defeating itself.

Anne wanted to hear more about Daniel Defoe, and Harley talked of him—his brilliance, his wit, his works. He told how the people had been angered when he was set in the pillory, how they had garlanded him with flowers, had drunk his health and set a guard about him.

Anne listened, indignant.

It was well she had Mr. Harley to visit her informally and let her know everything that was going on, for there was much of importance that was kept from a ruler.

Harley was delighted
with his discovery of the new relationship. He hoped Abigail Hill understood how important it was. He was certain she did, for there was subtlety behind that demure smile. She had her part to play in this. She was very necessary to him; he never lost a chance of telling her so. His gaze was caressing and Abigail was a little bewildered. He fascinated her, as more than a cousin or a conspirator—for she was well aware that this was a conspiracy. She had never met such a man before. She knew that he was overwhelmingly ambitious, that he was determined to be at the head of the Government, to rule the country; and it was the most flattering thing that had ever happened to her to be selected as his partner. She could not understand her emotions; she was less calm than before and although she hid her excitement she believed that she did not completely succeed as far as he was concerned. He was deferential towards her. Who before had ever been deferential to Abigail Hill, except Samuel Masham? She had shelved that matter for she was too excited by Robert Harley to think very much about Samuel Masham at this time. He paid her delicate compliments—even about her appearance. She was different from the pretty dolls with their paint and their powder and their ridiculously dressed hair. She had character. She was changing. Her sister Alice noticed it. “Lor, Abby,” she said, “what’s happened to you? Are you in love?” With a subtlety which matched Harley’s, she confided in Alice that Samuel Masham had asked her to marry him. Alice was excited. “Abby! Married! Who ever would have thought it!”

“I have not accepted his offer yet,” said Abigail; a remark which sent Alice into fits of laughter.

“The airs!” she cried. For she did not believe Abigail would refuse such an offer, since when would she be likely to get another?

How could she explain to Alice, even if it had been desirable for her to do so, which of course it was not, that she had matters of far more interest than marriage with Samuel Masham with which to occupy herself.

Sometimes Abigail allowed herself to dream. Suppose Robert Harley were unmarried; suppose he married
her
. She would remain with the Queen; she must never leave the Queen; others less wise than herself might imagine that their influence was so great that they could bully and neglect and keep it. Abigail would never make such a mistake.

To keep Anne’s need of one, one must be constantly there, always ready to console, listen, and comfort with those menial attentions (washing feet, massaging limbs swollen with the gout and dropsy, to play, to sing, to do what was required of one at any moment, to make sure that one’s absence would immediately be noticed with regret). That was the secret some had forgotten. Not that Sarah Churchill had ever retained her hold on Anne through the comfort she offered. Sarah was brilliant, vivacious, domineering, arrogant; she was the exact opposite of Anne and when they were children the Princess must have admired the forceful girl who had nothing but her good looks and her flamboyant personality. But the Princess had become a Queen and the brilliant Sarah was showing herself to be a fool.

And so would Abigail Hill be if she allowed herself to dream too much. Robert Harley and she were partners, but the love of power was at the root of their relationship. Power for him. And for me, thought Abigail.

I must keep my feet on the ground. I must not let Robert Harley dominate me, for if I do I shall be as foolish as Sarah Churchill has become.

Daniel Defoe was released from prison as a result of Robert Harley’s conversations with the Queen; he was conveying to her that while certain people were in power she would be only a cypher, for that was what they intended. There was no doubt to whom the epithet “Certain People” referred, though as yet Harley had not mentioned the names of Churchill and Godolphin.

To turn her thoughts from Robert Harley, Abigail began to think increasingly of Samuel Masham. He was as yet a page in the household of the Queen’s husband. But then she was only a chambermaid in that of the Queen. That was what they appeared to be to the undiscerning. But that could be easily changed.

Lord Masham … Lady Masham? Why not? Had Harley been free, had his interest in her been due to love instead of her peculiar influence with the Queen, she might have been a Duchess. For it was not difficult to imagine Harley a Duke—never Samuel Masham, though.

But Samuel would do exactly as she wished; there could be many advantages in a marriage with Samuel.

When she was with Robert Harley she forgot all about Samuel Masham. He talked to her in his caressing way which was full of hidden meanings.

It was natural at this stage not to state too openly what their intentions were, but there was one major issue and both were very much aware of it.

Together they were going to bring about the downfall of the Churchills. Harley was going to take the place in the country’s affairs now occupied by the Marlboroughs and their faction; and the power behind the throne which for so long had rested in Sarah was to be Abigail’s.

THE SUNDERLAND CONTROVERSY

arah returned to St. James’s and installed
herself in her apartments there. From these there was a secret staircase which led down to the Queen’s apartment and which in the old days had delighted them both.

Anne was pleased to see her; whenever Sarah put in an appearance she always forgot the alarming thoughts which had beset her previously, for such was the power of Sarah’s personality that when she was there Anne still believed that she was the one person in the whole world for whose society she longed more than any other.

“So, Mrs. Morley,” she was saying, “I shall get my Mary married at last.”

“She is so young yet, dear Mrs. Freeman.”

“She is old enough for marriage, that one. I can tell you she has led me a pretty dance. Who would have daughters?” Sarah did not notice how her companion winced, nor did she give a thought to the many miscarriages which had become a pattern of the royal existence. So many disappointments that Anne was losing all hope; but that did not mean she wanted continual references to those who were more fortunate than herself. Didn’t her sad mode of signing letters as “your poor
unfortunate
Morley” explain her feelings? But Sarah was heedless of the thoughts of others. She was without tact, a failing which she called honesty; but that which she saw as honesty in herself she would call rudeness in others. Sarah cared for no opinion but her own—not even the Queen’s. In Sarah’s opinion Sarah was always right and that applied even when people like Godolphin or even Marlborough himself contradicted her.

Sarah swept on: “The sooner the marriage takes place the better. It’s an excellent match. Both her father and I will be pleased to welcome Lord Monthermer as a son-in-law. He’ll be the Earl of Montague in due course and the marriage is as good as those of her sisters.”

“She is only a child.”

“You deceive yourself, Mrs. Morley. Mary’s no child. She has already found a bridegroom for herself … a most unsuitable one, I can tell you. Of course I soon put an end to that bit of nonsense.”

“Poor Mary! I suppose she was in love.”

“In love! My dear Mrs. Morley! In love with a man who had nothing but a poor estate! A fine thing for Marlborough’s daughter.”

Anne continued to look sad. Sentimental fool! thought Sarah. Why do I have to waste my time with her! What does she ever think of but the cards … and food! Of course she must give Mary a dowry like the others. Marl will be horrified if he has to provide the lot.

“This is most satisfactory and I shall be glad to see the girl settled. I hope your Majesty approves of the match.”

“If Mr. and Mrs. Freeman approve so do I. You must allow me to give her a dowry.”

“You are the most generous friend in the world, Mrs. Morley.”

“My dearest Mrs. Freeman, you are the best friend in the world to allow your poor unfortunate Morley to take a share in your children’s marriages, since she can have no hope of such
personal
happiness.”

“You are so good to Mrs. Freeman.”

How much? wondered Sarah. Five thousand like the rest?

Sarah also had another reason for being at Court. Her first grandchild was to be christened and she hoped the Queen would be his godmother.

Anne wept with joy at the prospect.

“The next best thing my dear Mrs. Freeman to being a grandmother is to be a godmother.”

“I had hoped you would think so. Godolphin and Sunderland will be the child’s godfathers.”

The Queen nodded. She had never liked Sunderland who had voted against dear George’s allowance being increased, and that was something for which she would never forgive him; and since she had become so friendly with dear Mr. Harley she was beginning to find Lord Godolphin rather tiresome.

“We’re going to call him William,” said Sarah. “His mother has already given him the name of Willigo.”

“Willigo for William. He’s named after my boy. It’s so charming,” said Anne. “I long to see the dear little creature.”

So cosy! she thought. It was like the old days when they had talked about their children, when her dear boy had been alive and Sarah’s son too. Poor Mrs. Freeman, she had lost a beloved son, the same as the Queen had; it made such a bond between them; but Sarah was the more fortunate. She had her daughters and now her darling grandchild. Little Willigo!

The door opened suddenly and Abigail came in; she was smiling and turning, Sarah stared at her in astonishment.

What an unusual way for a chambermaid to enter the Queen’s presence! No scratching at the door, no humble approach!

How odd! thought Sarah. How very odd.

Abigail stopped short, seeing who was with the Queen.

“You … Your Majesty rang?” she asked.

Anne looked at the bellrope as though with surprise. “No, Hill,” she said with a pleasant smile, “I didn’t ring.”

“I ask pardon of Your Majesty and Your Grace.”

Anne nodded pleasantly and Sarah haughtily inclined her head, while Abigail closed the door.

Sarah forgot the incident immediately. The manners of the chambermaid were scarcely worthy of her consideration at such a time when she had the marriage of her daughter and the christening of her grandson to occupy her mind.

Abigail stood outside the door and for once she allowed her features to fall into an expression of hatred. That woman had only to appear and she was immediately delegated to the position of humble chambermaid and poor relation.

Would it ever be possible to oust the proud Churchill woman from her place—even with the help of Robert Harley?

During the weeks
that followed Abigail began to believe that her fears were justified. Sarah had only to appear and Anne it seemed was ready to forget all past neglect and become her slave.

Never, it seemed, had Sarah been so powerful. In the past they had differed in their views, Anne being at heart a staunch Tory and Sarah inclining strongly towards the Whigs; but now the Whigs had been successful at the polls and even the Queen was favouring them; and because they knew how much they owed to Sarah they were ready to give her the adulation she expected. Tories such as Robert Harley and Henry St. John sought her favour—outwardly—and it did not occur to her that they had anything but the utmost respect for her, while like so many others, they hoped for her friendship.

Sarah was more powerful than she had ever been before.

Harley was watching eagerly. The more powerful she became the more careless she grew. Not once during those days when her ascendancy seemed complete did he despair of sending her hurtling down to failure. He hoped that she would continue in her arrogant blindness for he realized that his greatest ally was Sarah herself.

The woman was dazzling, brilliant—and a fool.

Someday, someone was going to carry those slighting remarks about the Queen right back to the Queen. At the moment no one dared … but the time would come.

In the meantime his friends, the wits and wags of the coffee houses, were playing the part he expected of them, and laughing at the situation; Viceroy Sarah was Queen Sarah now, and sometime their lampoons might reach the Queen.

“And Anne shall wear the crown but Sarah reign,” they wrote.

“Churchill shall rise on easy Stuart’s fall
And Blenheim’s tower shall triumph o’er Whitehall.”

And then came a chance to discountenance Sarah.

It was only to be expected that Sarah should believe that the Member of Parliament for St. Albans should be chosen by her, and she selected as Whig candidate Henry Killigrew whom she was certain, with a little persuasion to the electorate from her, would be elected.

The Tory candidate was a Mr. Gape and Sarah set out to attack him, but in spite of her efforts he was elected, and Henry Killigrew, believing that he could not fail if he had the support of the Duchess of Marlborough, was certain that Gape could only have won through bribery, and promptly accused him of it.

Gape took the matter to court where his counsel turned the tables by making a public announcement that the Duchess of Marlborough in her support of Killigrew had been guilty of ill practices. This the Duchess poohpoohed with her usual scorn, but when witnesses were brought forward Sarah’s enemies began to chortle with glee.

Robert Harley called on Abigail and they took a little walk in the gardens of the Palace to discuss this interesting affair.

“I’ve seen Gape’s counsel,” Harley told Abigail. “This is most illuminating. The Duchess of Marlborough has been ordering members of the electorate to Holywell House to give them little homilies as to how they should vote. You can guess what they were like. More warnings than homilies, ‘If you don’t vote as I tell you it will be the worse for you!’ I’ll swear.”

“But this is certainly an ill practice.”

“No doubt of it. We’ll have Madame Sarah taken up for bribery and corruption yet.”

“She must be quite furious.”

Harley laid his hand on Abigail’s arm and she lifted her face to his. Sometimes she thought he was fully aware of the effect he had on her. She was fascinated and yet in a way repelled, but the fascination was the strong emotion.

“You allow her to intimidate you, cousin.”

“She is an intimidating person.”

“Don’t forget each day you grow farther and farther from her reach.”

“I believe she would still have the power to dismiss me … if she should decide to do so.”

“Then we must make sure she is robbed of that power as soon as possible. This affair might well help to divest her of some. She has been telling the people of St. Albans that Mr. Gape and his kind would unhinge the Government; she has paid one man twenty guineas; unfortunately there was no mention in writing that the gift was in exchange for his help in the election.”

“She is the most indiscreet woman in the world, but it seems everyone is afraid of her.”

“It will not always be so, little cousin. This pleases me. Let us hope that she has been even more indiscreet than usual and put something in writing which can be used against her.”

In spite of
Sarah’s indiscretions on that occasion nothing was proved against her; but her enemies—and in particular the Tories—were loud in their condemnation of her.

And she was as bold as ever. She assured herself that she had done much to procure the Whig support which Marlborough needed to prolong the war. She wrote to the Duke that she wanted more news of what he was doing and assuring him that he could rely on her to look after their interests at home.

She was truly at the peak of her success; she had tried to turn the Queen towards the Whigs and had succeeded, perhaps because the Tories themselves had helped to arouse Anne’s animosity. They had not taken into account the fact that the Queen who must now seriously begin to think of her successor was more inclined to favour the House of Stuart than that of Hanover. Anne, a sentimentalist at heart, had never ceased to be troubled by the manner in which she had treated her father; her stepbrother was now at St. Germains and what could salve her conscience better than making him her heir; if he would swear to support the Church of England that was all that would be asked of him. She was a Jacobite for reasons of conscience. But the Tories declaring that the Church of England would be in jeopardy if the Stuart was brought back wanted to make advances to Princess Sophia of Hanover and even suggested that she should be invited to pay a visit to England.