The Queen's Favourites aka Courting Her Highness (v5) (41 page)

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Authors: Jean Plaidy

Tags: #Historical, #FICTION, #General, #Biography & Autobiography, #Great Britain, #Royal - Fiction, #Favorites, #1702-1714 - Fiction, #Biographical, #Marlborough, #Royal, #Biographical Fiction, #Sarah Jennings Churchill - Fiction, #Great Britain - History - Anne

BOOK: The Queen's Favourites aka Courting Her Highness (v5)
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Sarah planned to build in place of that old house a much grander one which should be her family’s town residence; she had decided it should be called Marlborough House.

Now she reminded Anne of an old promise to give her this house; and Anne, happy to turn the conversation away from Mrs. Masham and the replacement of Sarah by her daughters, agreed that the site should be Sarah’s.

Sarah emerged triumphant from that interview; and thoughout the Court it was said that not only had Godolphin and Marlborough scored over Harley, but Sarah would soon be putting Mrs. Masham in her place.

Anne was disturbed
. There was alarming news. The King of France having been so often defeated by Marlborough in Europe was seeking to attack the Queen of England in a way most calculated to alarm her.

Her ministers had informed her that her half brother, whom the French King openly called James III, King of England, was being given the aid he would need to land in Scotland where they were ready to rise in his favour and come against her.

Marlborough came in all haste to St. James’s.

How fortunate that he was in England! There was a strength about the man. A genius which she could not fail to recognize. What should I
do
without dear Mr. Freeman! she asked George who, poor dear angel, was too ill to give much thought to the matter.

The best of the Army was in Europe but this would be a matter for the fleet, said Marlborough. Sir George Byng was setting sail immediately to prevent the hostile force landing.

But they must be watchful, for Scotland and the Northern counties were ready to revolt.

When Marlborough left, Anne immediately summoned Abigail to bring her brandy.

“It is so alarming,” she said as she sipped gratefully. “The Prince so ill … and all this trouble!”

Abigail wiped the poor eyes which watered frequently.

“Thank you, my dear. How I wish there need not be this strife. He is my brother for all that he comes against me.”

“Your Majesty is sure of that?”

“Oh, there were rumours. Some thought at the time that he was brought into the bed by means of a warming pan … but I have heard that he is very like my dear father. So good my father was to me, Masham. And to my sister Mary. He doted on us. He was a good father … but so distressingly fond of women … like my uncle Charles. But the people were fond of him. By the way, I hear that they are not pleased because the Duchess has taken his old house near the Mall. She has had the oak cut down which he planted.”

“The people loved that oak, Madam. To them it was a symbol of royalty. The oak saved King Charles’s life and they loved it for that reason.”

“They still wear the oak apple in memory of the occasion, Masham. Yes, my uncle was much loved, but my father … alas, he had his enemies. I often think of those days and I wish … I wish with all my heart, Masham.…”

“Your Majesty must not upset yourself.”

“But there is this conflict … and now my own brother comes against me. He is but a boy. Is it not sad, Masham? I often think of all the babies I have lost and I wondered whether it was a curse on me. And now my dearest husband … There will be no hope of more children.”

Abigail did not know how to comfort the Queen; she could not speak of the possibility of a more fruitful marriage while the Prince still clung to life.

“No, I shall have no heirs of my body,” went on Anne. “And we must think of the succession. I do not like the Germans, Masham. And this boy is my father’s own son. I am sure of it.”

“But, Madam, you cannot wish that this venture of his will be victorious!”

Anne smiled at her dear friend’s horror, and took Abigail’s freckled hand in hers.

“No, my dear. He will not be successful. The Duke would never allow that. I can only hope that he will not be harmed. That is what I fear. I should like him to go quietly back to France and wait … and when I am gone …”

“Your Majesty would make him your heir?”

“I think that would please my father and that then everything would be right.”

“He would have to become a member of the Church of England, Madam.”

“Oh, yes. He would have to be that. And if he were … then I think it would be the happiest solution. Meanwhile, poor boy, he will try to take by force that which, if he would but wait in patience, I should be very happy to hand over to him.”

Abigail laid her head against the Queen’s hand.

“What is it, Masham? Your cheeks are wet.”

“I cannot bear to hear Your Majesty speak of the days when you will not be here.”

“Dear Masham! You make my life so much more bearable than it would otherwise be. But I have lost my boy. It is over now,
some
say, but to me it is as fresh as though it happened yesterday. Always I hoped that there would be others … but now … I am losing my dearest husband. Oh, Masham. I hope you enjoy with Samuel what I have with George.”

“It is Your Majesty’s goodness which makes everything good about you.”

“You are a dear creature. But all is not good. And now my own brother comes against me.”

“He will not succeed, Your Majesty.”

“I know it. But he comes to try to take that which I hold and which he thinks I usurped from him. It is not so, Masham. The people would never have a papist on the throne.”

“Your Majesty has always faithfully upheld the Church of England.”

“Therein I find my strength, Masham. In the Church, which assures me I did right.”

Abigail kissed the Queen’s hand and while she wept with her she told herself that she must let Harley know that the Queen was against the Hanoverian succession and was for the Stuart James.

News filtered through
to the Court of what was happening to the invading forces.

As Marlborough had predicted, they had no chance against Sir George Byng, and the remnants of the invading forces were soon fleeing back to France.

There were rumours that Prince James had been captured and was a prisoner on board an English ship.

The Queen told Abigail that she was deeply disturbed because if the young man was brought to her, she would have to remember that he was her own brother and she could never find it in her heart to punish him.

The Chevalier de St. George, as James was known in France, was after all a young man in his twentieth year; it was said that he was bold and handsome. The position would be very difficult if he were brought to London for trial.

But she could trust Admiral Byng to do better than that; Anne was very pleased when the report reached her that her brother, of whom she now spoke as The Pretender, had been treated with the respect due to his rank and landed on the French coast.

The attempted invasion had come to nothing; and the Queen need have no fear on that score, but there was a little uneasiness when she heard that Lord Griffin, an ardent Jacobite who had been with her brother in France and had come with him to Scotland, had been captured and was being brought to the Tower where he would be sentenced as a traitor.

Troubled, Anne turned to Abigail. “You see, Masham, I know Griffin well. I have known him all my life. How can I sign his death warrant? I know he fought with my brother and his plan was to set him up in my place, but he is an old friend. I cannot sentence old friends to death, and be at peace with my conscience.”

Abigail had talked with Harley. He was a Jacobite; so was she. They did not wish to see Anne deposed during her lifetime naturally, but when she died—for she would almost certainly die without heirs of her body—they would wish to see James Stuart on the throne and not Sophia of Hanover.

“They will bring Lord Griffin to the tower, Your Majesty, but they will not be able to execute him if you do not sign the death warrant.”

“But it will be expected of me.”

“Your Majesty answers to no one. I believe that some people who have mistakenly thought they could put you in leading strings are beginning to discover that.”

Abigail had folded her arms and pursed her lips. Extraordinarily, it seemed to Anne, her face was transformed and it might have been Sarah standing there.

Anne began to laugh.

“I feel so relieved that my poor brother is safe in France. And you’re right, Masham, they won’t be able to execute him until the death warrant is signed, and if I don’t sign it … then Griffin will live on.”

They laughed together.

Now that Masham behaved less like a servant they were growing closer than ever.

George was clearly
worse, and as he loved Kensington perhaps more than any other place, Anne decided to take him there and, with Abigail, nurse him as quietly as she could.

It was Abigail who suggested that the Prince should have apartments on the ground floor of the palace.

The Prince’s difficulty in breathing, increased by his corpulence—and now that he was unable to take exercise he was becoming visibly fatter every day—made it difficult for him to mount staircases; and Abigail’s idea was hailed as an excellent one.

“He loves his plants,” said the Queen indulgently, “and it will be so easy for him to slip out into the gardens to be among them, with the least possible strain.”

So to Kensington went the royal party, and as the Queen could not be parted from Abigail and it was essential that her apartments should be immediately adjoining those of the Queen and Prince, Abigail and Samuel found themselves magnificently lodged at Kensington.

Sarah was flitting from St. Albans to Blenheim and back to see how Marlborough House was progressing and had little time to spare for the Queen. Moreover, she believed that if she remained aloof Anne would be unable to endure the separation and would humbly ask her to come to her.

She waited in vain for the summons, but her daughter Henrietta, who had been visiting at the palace, came to her to tell her what magnificent apartments Abigail was occupying there, and when Sarah asked her to describe them her eyes narrowed with anger.

“Why,” she cried, “I know those apartments although I have never occupied them. William had them made for Keppel. You remember Keppel was at one time a very great favourite with William and he could scarce bear the young man out of his sight. When William died and George took over the Palace—which he did with scarcely respectable speed—Anne said that those apartments should be mine. And that gooseberry-eyed slut is occupying them! I shall soon put a stop to that.”

Although she had pleaded lack of time to go to Court before this, Sarah went straight there and demanded that the housekeeper show her the rooms which were being occupied by the Mashams.

As soon as she saw them she gave vent to her rage.

“These rooms were given to me by the Queen when she first came to the throne!” she declared, and went off to see the Queen, thrusting aside those who would restrain her.

“I can assure you that Her Majesty will put nothing in the way of seeing
me
!” she declared.

It may have been that Abigail had seen her approach or it might have been one of those rare occasions when she was not in attendance, but Sarah found one of the other bedchamber women with the Queen.

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