The Queen's Favourites aka Courting Her Highness (v5) (42 page)

“It is not often that we have the pleasure of Mrs. Freeman’s company,” began the Queen.

But Sarah burst out, “I have heard disturbing news. Mrs. Masham has taken my lodgings.”

Anne looked dismayed and Sarah rushed on. “It is not the first time that she has sought to take that which belongs to me. I’ll not have her in my apartments.”

“Masham has none of your rooms,” said the Queen.

“The housekeeper has shown me that she has. Your Majesty gave me those rooms and I will not have Masham using them.”

“But Masham has none of your rooms,” repeated the Queen, “and to say to the contrary is false and a lie.”

“If Your Majesty will send for the housekeeper, who knows very well which apartments here are being used by whom, he will tell you that Masham is using that apartment which William gave to Keppel and which you gave me. I will summon him.”

“Pray do not,” said the Queen coldly. “I do not wish to see him because I know Masham has none of your rooms.”

Sarah asked leave to depart and the Queen did not detain her. She was so certain that Abigail was using her rooms and could not let pass an occasion for proving herself in the right. It did not occur to her that the Queen was telling her politely that she could no longer consider the apartment hers, and that it had been given to Abigail.

Sarah must prove herself right.

She went once more to the housekeeper. She looked at the apartments again and stalked back to the Queen.

“Masham
is
in my apartment,” she said.

“Masham has not made use of your apartment,” retorted the Queen coldly.

“I can bring those to Mrs. Morley who will assure her that Masham
is
in my apartment.”

“How could she help using an apartment which is near my own?” demanded the Queen. “She must be at hand, for the Prince and I need her.”

Sarah was exasperated. How could one talk to a woman who one moment was so emphatic, and then calmly admitted what one had been trying to prove.

Anne made no attempt to placate her; so Sarah took her leave and as she did so she heard her say: “Where is Masham? I have such a headache. Send her to me.”

This was too much to be borne and Sarah was furious. So the Queen no longer cared whether she visited her or not. She would care though if she lost her Commander-in-Chief. And by God, thought Sarah, if I have to endure much more insolence I shall insist on Marl giving up his command. If he were here now she would tell him so, but he was at this moment in Holland, fighting the Queen’s battles while his wife at home was being insulted.

In the heat of her fury she did what she always found soothing to her rage. She sat down and wrote to the object of her anger—in this case the Queen rather than Abigail.

“Madam, upon Lord Marlborough’s going into Holland I believe Your Majesty will neither be surprised nor displeased to hear that I am going into the country, since by your very hard and uncommon usage of me, you have convinced all sorts of people as well as myself that nothing would be so uneasy to you as my near attendance. Upon this account I thought it might not be improper at my going into the country to acquaint Your Majesty that even while Lord Marlborough continues in your service, as well as when he finds himself obliged to leave it, if Your Majesty thinks fit to dispose of my employments, according to the solemn assurances you have been pleased to give me, you shall meet with all the submissions and acknowledgments imaginable.…”

There, she felt better. That would show Anne that if she did not wish to see Sarah, Sarah had no wish to be with her.

Anne read the letter and sighed. She was too preoccupied with poor dear George to give any attention to Sarah’s tantrums. In fact when she read the letter she felt somewhat relieved because lately she had simply not cared that Sarah should be angry and was secretly pleased when she stayed away from Court.

For the first time since she had met Sarah she did not care what Sarah thought of her.

It was escape from a long bondage.

The Prince’s health
did not improve during that hot May and Anne discussed with Abigail the desirability of moving farther into the country. Windsor would be delightful but the castle was high and sudden winds, even in summer, could render it draughty. There was the little house in the forest close to the castle which Anne had acquired when her quarrel with her sister had made it impossible for her to reside in the castle.

It would be so much easier, said Abigail, to nurse the Prince in this small establishment; and there they would be free from formality.

Anne remembered an occasion when she had lived the simple country life with her boy in Twickenham and how happy they had all been.

She was sure Abigail was right and they set off, and taking few servants with them installed the dying Prince in the little house in the forest.

Here Anne was with him constantly, for he was uneasy if she was not in sight or within call.

“It breaks my heart to see him, Masham,” she said, and Abigail assured her that it was the most touching sight in the world to see them together.

Mr. Harley was a frequent caller and he enlivened those days made sad by the Prince’s illness, which they all knew was progressing towards the inevitable end.

Sarah, having received no reply to her letter, was very angry; she declared that the Queen had cruelly taken the dying Prince to this little hut which was as hot as an oven, because the chambermaid wished to invite her paramour, Harley, there.

Such malicious gossip did not reach the Queen’s ears; her days were filled by looking after her husband and talking to Mr. Harley, listening to Abigail’s music and conversation.

Dr. Arbuthnot and his wife were with them and she often told them what a comfort she found in the presence of the Mashams.

It was a simple life—strange and unreal to those who lived it because it was so remote from the Court.

Abigail, however, never ceased to think ahead; and one day when she was walking through the woods with Samuel she said to him: “I doubt the Prince will see the end of the year.”

Samuel was silent; like most people who served the Prince, he was fond of him.

“Has it occurred to you to wonder what will become of you when the Prince dies?”

She looked at him with a slightly contemptuous tenderness. She would always have to think for him.

“No?” she answered for him. “Well, there will be no place for you then. We will have to think, Samuel, my dear. Politics? The Army? Perhaps both. I will speak to the Queen. But not yet. I would not have her think that my mind ran on such practical matters. But when the Prince is dead, and that cannot be long, I will speak to her. But in the time that is left to us, Samuel, we should think. We should think very carefully indeed.”

“Do you think I would make a politician, Abigail?”

“Your tongue is scarcely ready enough.”

She thought of Harley, whose tongue was ever-ready. In time Harley would become the Queen’s chief Minister. She was sure of it. There ought to be room in his government for a place for Abigail Masham’s husband.

Then she thought of the great Duke and the power of commanding the Army. With Marlborough abroad and Sarah at home the Churchills could have ruled the country. But Sarah had been a fool as Abigail never would be. But on the other hand Marlborough was a military genius and Samuel would never be any sort of genius.

Abigail sighed and slipped her arm through that of her husband.

“One thing we have decided,” she said, “and that it is that it must either be politics or the Army.”

The quiet of
the little house in Windsor was broken by the news of Marlborough’s great victory at Oudenarde.

“The great Duke is a genius,” said Anne when she read the news and hastily wrote to him expressing her appreciation, but when she saw the lists of dead and wounded in the battle and understood the losses which had gone to make this victory she wept.

“Oh Lord,” she cried, “when will all this dreadful bloodshed cease.”

Such a victory, whatever it had cost, must be celebrated. The nation would expect it; and Anne must therefore leave Windsor and travel to London for the thanksgiving service at St. Paul’s.

Marlborough’s new feat had brought Sarah back to Court triumphantly, snapping her fingers with glee. Let them understand once and for all that they could not do without Marlborough.

She was back at her old duties at the wardrobe. She would ride with the Queen to St. Paul’s, and receive the cheers. And some people would realize that they must take her into account, for she was far more important than any dirty little chambermaid could ever be.

Anne, terribly anxious on account of George, was subdued when she considered all those who had fallen on the battlefield, asking herself how much longer this dreadful war would continue and whether the good which would come of victory was worth the price that was paid; and Sarah with customary blindness and concern with her own affairs mistook this for remorse for the manner in which Anne had treated her and a desire to return to the old relationship.

Very well, thought Sarah, she would take her back; but she must realize that if the friendship was to be put back on its old footing, there must be no more foolish tantrums.

She bustled into the royal apartments where the Queen was resting in preparation for the ordeal before her and busied herself with arranging the Queen’s jewels. Mrs. Danvers, recovered from her illness and no longer concerned with immediate death, fluttered sycophantishly round her, whispering of the further insolence of that upstart Masham, for in Sarah’s presence it was impossible for some people to doubt that she was all she believed herself to be.

“The Queen will wear these rubies and these diamonds,” Sarah told Danvers. “She must look … dazzling. The people will expect it.”

“Well, Your Grace, she will look magnificent.”

“And so she should, Danvers. To look anything less would be an insult to the Duke!”

Sarah was undoubtedly back. Mrs. Danvers predicted to Mrs. Abrahal that Mrs. Masham would not be lording it much longer. It was only necessary for the Duchess to make an appearance and it was remembered how important she was. It would not be long, mark her words, before Madam Masham was sent away and things would be as they used to be in the old days.

Abigail was in
attendance on the Queen, helping her prepare for the journey to St. Paul’s. She was uneasy. The attitude of the bedchamber women had changed towards her; they were faintly insolent. “Her Grace has said that Her Majesty shall wear these.…” As though Her Grace were the Queen. They did not know that the Queen had changed towards the Duchess in the last months. Abigail was certain that the moment could not be far off when there would be a final break between the Queen and her one-time friend. Yet Sarah had only to appear and everyone was ready to accept her as the invincible Duchess.

Well, it should not be so. Sarah was a fool, Abigail reminded herself, who could not control her anger, keep her mouth shut nor her fingers from a pen. Her anger when she was crossed was so fierce that it had to flow, but that was Sarah’s undoing and Abigail was going to see that she was vanquished once and for all time.