Courting Her Highness (3 page)

“She is only finding places for us because she can’t allow her cousins to be servants.”

“What does the reason matter … as long as we get the places?”

Abigail shrugged her shoulders and murmured: “Come, we should be ready to receive her when she arrives.”

They were thinking of their elder brother who, by the good graces of Lord Godolphin and Lady Marlborough, was already installed in the Custom House, as they made their way to the sparsely furnished bedroom to put on the dresses which Lady Marlborough had sent them. These had belonged to Lady Marlborough’s daughters, some of whom were very much the same age as thirteen-year-old Abigail and eleven-year-old Alice.

Abigail wore a mulberry-coloured cloth gown and because she felt it might appear to be a little too grand for a poor relation decided to wear her linen apron over it.

“That spoils it,” declared Alice. “Why do you do it?”

“I don’t want her to think I am aping my betters.”

Alice burst out laughing. “You stand there looking buttoned up,” she said. “I know you hate this as much as I do.”

“We have to be grateful to Lady Marlborough.”

“That’s why we can’t abide her. Whoever liked those to whom they had to be grateful?”

“It could depend.”

“On what?”

“On the manner in which benefits were bestowed.”

“Oh, Abby, you don’t talk like Lady Rivers’ chamber maid.”

“Why should I when I was never meant to be a servant. You know how Papa always insisted on our doing our lessons.”

“Well, we
were
servants—for whatever reason—until Lady Marlborough decided otherwise. She is like God—all powerful, but I wish that like God she would remain invisible. I might be able to offer more fervent hymns of praise then.”

“You’re blaspheming, Alice.”

Alice laughed and struggled with the fastening of Elizabeth Churchill’s cast-off gown. “I wish I knew what you were thinking, Abby.”

“Doubtless the same as you on this occasion.”

“Abigail, do you never lose your temper?”

“Often.”

“You never show it.”

“What good would that do?”

Alice sighed. “There are times, sister, when I think you have more sense than you’re given credit for.”

The two girls were standing side by side looking into the mirror.

“Then that is useful,” commented Abigail, “for I have little else.”

Poor Abigail! thought Alice. She was plain. She was small, thin, and in spite of this she looked older than thirteen. A little woman already. Her hair was fine, limp and a sandy colour; her eyes were pale green and small; her only distinguishing feature was her high bridged nose which was inclined to be pink at the tip; and she had an unfortunate habit of hanging her head as though she wanted to spare people the need to look at such an unprepossessing face. She had no beauty, so it was fortunate that she had good sense and knew how to keep her temper under control.

“Well,” went on Alice, “I wonder what she has decided for us.” Her
face puckered and the assumption of age which the hardness of her life had put upon her, fell away; she looked like the eleven-year-old child she was. “Oh, Abby, I don’t want to go away. How I hate being poor. Don’t you?”

Abigail shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, what use would it be? We are—and there’s no help for it.”

“Don’t you sometimes dream that you’re important … as she is. That you descend like a tornado on your poor relations …”

“I have never witnessed a tornado so I do not know how it descends.”

“Have you no imagination? Of course you haven’t … only plain good sense. And when her ladyship finds you your post you will take it most gratefully and you will go about your duties with a quiet efficiency which will be a credit to the great lady who recommended you, while I …”

“While you, Alice, will do exactly the same.”

Alice smiled at her sister. She was right. And the cast-off clothes of a rich Churchill girl could not help her at all; she looked just as plain as she did in her working clothes. But perhaps when one was poor and had to be grateful for small benefits it was as well to be plain and modest, controlled and hardworking.

Lady Marlborough stepped
from her coach and as she entered the house it immediately appeared to be ten times smaller, shabbier and meaner than it had been before. Her loud voice seemed, to Abigail, to shake its foundations.

The little family were waiting to receive her. Abigail, at its head now, quiet, humble, betraying nothing; Alice apprehensive and finding that all the truculence she had promised herself was fast disappearing; and John who was wondering whether he would have to join his brother in the Custom House or whether he could hope for a place in the Army.

As Lady Marlborough’s gaze swept over them and came to rest on Abigail, she was pleased with what she saw. The girl looked after the others as well as could be expected and she was aware of her position. She was old beyond her years. Thirteen was young but her responsibilities had aged her. She might be at least sixteen or even seventeen.

She took off the cloak that she had worn to conceal her fine garments
which were in the latest fashion. Although she hated the King and had done her best, during Queen Mary’s reign, to alienate the Princess Anne from her sister, she had to wear the Dutch styles if she were to be in the fashion. Over her gown, looped up to make panniers at the side, and so droop at the back, she wore a wide skirted coat of dark blue velvet, the sleeves of which came to the elbows where they were turned back in the form of stiff cuffs, beneath which showed the fine lace at the sleeves of her gown. Her magnificent hair, which was her greatest claim to beauty, being thick, wavy and of a bright golden colour, was dressed in the style of a bob wig, and over this she wore a lace head-dress decorated with ribbons which had been completely hidden by the large hood of the dark cloak. A regal Court lady stood before the children, the more magnificent because she made such a contrast to her surroundings.

“Now Abigail,” she said, “you are the eldest. I trust you have been looking after your sister and brother.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Lady Marlborough looked about her for a chair and Abigail, seeing this and immediately bringing her one, was rewarded by a smile of approval.

Sarah beckoned the children to stand before her. She had decided that the boy was to be sent to school while she looked for an opening for him. She had only one post for the girls as yet and she thought it would be suitable for Abigail. As for the other girl she could not live alone and there was only one thing to be done and that was take her to her own house at St. Albans until something could be found for her.

She was thoughtful, watching them. This Abigail was a good girl; of the other one she was not sure. Was that a spark of frivolity she saw in Mistress Alice’s eyes? One thing was clear; the young one was not of the same docile disposition as her sister.

“In my position,” she began, “I receive a great many calls on my generosity. The Princess places
all
her affairs in my hands and that means I have posts …” She smiled pityingly, implying that these were posts which could not be within the range of the Hills’ meagre talents … “important posts of which to dispose. Those who desire them are ready to do me any service to obtain them; but I can assure you I must select most carefully.”

Alice, who since she had left home to become a servant had, so it
seemed to Abigail, lost the good manners which their parents had insisted on, was impetuous and said: “Your ladyship’s position is one of great importance. In fact, I have heard it said that in a short time …” She caught Abigail’s warning glance and finished lamely: “But perhaps I am indiscreet.”

“Pray go on, Alice,” commanded Lady Marlborough.

“Well, it is said that the King is very weak and that he cannot live much longer and when he dies of course the Princess will be Queen and that means …”

Lady Marlborough was smiling complacently. Far from annoying her, Alice’s remark was putting her in a good mood.

“I can see Court gossip reaches you here,” she said; and Alice threw a triumphant glance at her sister while Lady Marlborough surveyed the room with the few pieces of furniture which had once been good and were now very shabby, showing signs of having seen, and said goodbye to, better days. “It is true,” she went on, “that the Princess places great trust in me, and I do my best to deserve it.”

Alice, emboldened by success, tried again. “I trust my lord the Earl is back at Court.”

A shadow passed across Lady Marlborough’s face. So, thought Abigail, the Earl is still waiting for his opportunity. He is not as fortunate as his wife. And was it to be wondered at? The King had suspected Marlborough of treason on more than one occasion; it was said that he was a “Jack,” which was the name Abigail had heard below stairs applied to Jacobites; in fact he had been in the Tower not so long ago; and then there had been the affair of the flower-pot intrigue. Lady Marlborough might have a great influence over the Princess Anne, but her husband was most certainly on uneasy terms with King William; and it would have been wiser for Alice to wait for Lady Marlborough to mention her husband’s name.

“The Earl has much with which to occupy himself,” replied Lady Marlborough coolly. She came to a decision in that moment. The younger girl was pert for she might have heard gossip about Marl and be trying a little impudence. The elder one was much more serious, much more aware of what she owed to her important cousin. The post she had decided on for the elder girl should go to the younger; and she herself would make use of Abigail while she decided what should become of her.

“Now,” she said firmly, “it is clear that you cannot stay here … three
young people alone! Prompt action is necessary. I have plans for you all and you must be prepared to leave here within the next few days. These bits of furniture will not fetch much.” She addressed Abigail. “But you should sell them and what you get will mayhap put a little into your pockets. John, you are going to school.”

“To school!” cried John aghast. “I wanted a place in the Army.”

There was a shocked silence; then Lady Marlborough burst out laughing. “The Army! At your age. Why, you would have to join his Grace of Gloucester with a wooden sword and a toy musket.”

“But …” began the boy, and the tears were in his eyes.

Lady Marlborough waved a white hand on which jewels flashed. “I don’t doubt that if you show ability I shall, in time, be able to place you in the Army. But as yet you are but a child. I shall send clothes for you and you will go to school in St. Albans. There I shall watch your progress.”

John’s lips quivered and Abigail said nervously: “I am sure my brother is delighted.”

Lady Marlborough gave her a smile of approval. She was not mistaken in the girl. Abigail was the only one of these children who knew her place.

“It may well be,” said Lady Marlborough looking sternly at the boy, “that if you work hard and are humble, loyal and obedient, the Earl of Marlborough may find you a place in his Army.”

He would first, thought Abigail, have to come back into favour; but if the King died and Princess Anne became Queen Anne, it was very possible that he would. Oh how stupid were this brother and sister of hers. Did they not realize that this flamboyant arrogant woman held their futures in her hands. What a marvellous opportunity for them. And all this they owed to their cousin, the brilliant clever Lady Marlborough.

“John,” cried Abigail, “you should go down on to your knees and thank Lady Marlborough.”

A very good girl indeed, thought Sarah, with a proper sense of her duty and that of others.

“Thank you, Lady Marlborough,” said John obediently.

“I am sure you will do me credit.” She turned to Alice. “And I have an excellent opportunity for you. There is a vacancy in the household of the little Duke of Gloucester for a laundress.”

“A laundress!” gasped Alice.

“A laundress in the household of the young Duke is a post greatly coveted, I do assure you,” said Lady Marlborough acidly.

“My sister is overcome by your ladyship’s generosity,” said Abigail, impatient to know her own fate. “She is young and finds it difficult to express her gratitude.”

Lady Marlborough was soothed. “And grateful she should be, for the young Duke will be the heir to the throne as soon as Dutch William goes where he should have gone these many years. How he lingers on! He’s been dying ever since I saw him, and it was Mary who went first. I could never abide
her
, but for that Dutch Abortion …”

Alice gave a slight nervous giggle; John looked interested, and although Abigail’s expression did not change she was thinking: How indiscreet she is! How vulgar. And how odd that indiscretion and vulgarity should have brought her such high rewards!

“You may smile,” went on Lady Marlborough, “but that is one of the names Mrs. Morley and I use for him. Mrs. Morley is Anne … the Princess, you know. She would have us dispense with formality when we are together and she herself gave us the names of Mrs. Freeman—which is mine—and Mrs. Morley which is hers. Caliban! The Dutch Monster! That is how
we
speak of His Majesty.”