The Queen's Favourites aka Courting Her Highness (v5) (31 page)

The idea of receiving her in England was repulsive to Anne; and when Nottingham suggested in the House of Lords that this must be done for fear the Queen should live till she did not know what she did, and be like a child in the hands of others, Anne was moved to an anger rare with her. To suggest that she might become a victim of senile decay and to do so in one of her Houses of Parliament was too much to be borne.

Had not Mrs. Freeman warned her of Nottingham and the Tories? Although she was angry with Nottingham it was such a pleasure to be in agreement with Sarah over politics.

She wrote to her, for she was very happy to be back on the old terms of friendship when letters frequently passed between them:

“I believe, dear Mrs. Freeman and I shall not disagree as we have formerly done; for I am sensible of the services these people have done me that you have a good opinion of, and will countenance them, and am thoroughly convinced of the malice and insolence of them that you have always been speaking against.”

So Sarah was back in high favour; and it seemed clear that although she might stay away from Court, and speak contemptuously of the Queen, all she had to do was graciously return and Anne was delighted to have her.

Sarah revelled in her position. She would cut short the Queen when she rambled on. “Yes, yes, yes, Madam. It must be so!” and would openly yawn.

“How that woman bores me!” she cried to Lord Godolphin, and did not care that servants heard her. “I’d as lief be shut up in a dungeon as spend my time listening to her bumbling on.”

Godolphin would have liked to warn her but of course he dared not. He was very much in awe of her and carried out her instructions without attempting to disagree with her.

Abigail from the shadows watched in amazement. How could the Queen so forget the dignity due to her rank to accept such conduct! Sarah now performed those tasks which Abigail had been doing for the Queen, although the more menial services of the bedchamber were still left for her to do. To see Sarah hand the Queen her gloves was a revelation. Her dislike for the Queen seemed to be apparent to everyone but Anne. Anne suffered a great deal from gout and dropsy, and Sarah, who was full of health, seemed to find the Queen’s illnesses very distasteful. When the Queen talked of her symptoms—which she loved to do—Sarah would turn away disgusted, and sometimes when she handed her something for which she had asked she would turn her head away as the Queen’s hand touched hers as though, said those who were watching, the Queen had offensive smells.

The relationship between the Queen and the Duchess was discussed at length in the women’s quarters. Mrs. Abrahal said she was surprised Her Majesty did not send some people packing, that she did. To which Mrs. Danvers replied that: Nobody would dare send the Duchess of Marlborough packing … not even God nor the devil.

Seeing Abigail enter Mrs. Abrahal said: “This puts Hill’s nose out of joint, I’d swear.”

Mrs. Danvers tittered because, Abigail knew, the nose referred to was too large for the small face it adorned—though adorned was scarcely the right description—and was now, as so often, pink at the tip. Though, she believed they had said of her when they had noticed her rising favour with the Queen and been jealous of it, having it poking where it had no right.

“In what way?” asked Abigail lightly.

“Well, no little têtes-à-têtes over the bohea, dear! No little cosy chats with Her Majesty … not now Her Grace is back! They haven’t the time for you now, Mrs. Hill.”

“It is natural that when Her Grace of Marlborough is at Court she performs the duties which I took over during her absence. My nose suffers not at all from this perfectly natural procedure.”

Abigail picked up the little dog for which she had been searching and walked calmly out of the room. Mrs. Danvers who considered herself the Duchess’s woman grimaced at Mrs. Abrahal.

“All the same,” she insisted, “it’s a change she doesn’t like.”

She was thoughtful. “There was a time,” she went on, “when I thought I ought to mention to Her Grace what a friend Her Majesty was making of that woman. Sometimes I used to think that Abigail Hill rather fancied herself as the Queen’s special favourite. Well, it shows, doesn’t it? Her Grace only has to put her handsome nose in the place and back scuttles Hill to her corner. I needn’t have worried.”

They both agreed that she need not have worried.

With Sarah back
at Court the pleasant intimacies of the past were lost. Now dressing was a fomality. Every time Anne changed her dress she must be surrounded by women who did the tasks which had been allotted to them in order of precedence. Each garment was passed from hand to hand until it reached that of the Duchess who then handed it to the Queen or put it on for her. It was in these occasions that Sarah was more and more openly showing her disgust, turning away, nose in the air, as the garment passed from her hands to the Queen’s. Every time Anne washed her hands, the page of the backstairs must bring the basin and ewer; then one of the bedchamber women must place it beside the Queen and kneel at the side of the table, and another bedchamber woman must pour the water over the Queen’s hands.

When the Duchess was away the ceremony was relaxed, and Abigail Hill was happy to do all the services the Queen desired—no matter how menial; she would put on the Queen’s gloves with tenderness, for often Anne’s hands were too gouty to do this for herself; she would put on the Queen’s shoes in the same gentle manner, and when it was necessary to poultice those poor swollen feet she never allowed a poultice to be too hot on application, and was always ready to suggest it might be getting cold that minute or so before the Queen realized it.

It was Abigail who had brought the Queen’s chocolate to her before she lay down to rest; and what comfort it was to sip the warm sweet drink which she so much enjoyed and chat to Abigail of all the irritations or the pleasures of the day.

Of course it was so stimulating to have dear Mrs. Freeman at Court. Something was always happening to Mrs. Freeman, and it was almost always something to arouse her indignation. With Mrs. Freeman there was never a dull moment; and it was pleasant to find that they were not so politically divergent as they once were.

Sarah came into the royal apartments one day, her face purposeful. She received the Queen’s embrace coolly and sat down beside her, her lips set in lines of determination.

“I have been thinking,” said Sarah, “that it is time there was a change of office in the Secretaryship of State.”

Anne gasped. “But I am very fond of Sir Charles Hedges. He is a very good man.”

Sarah clicked her teeth impatiently. “Lord, Madam,” she said, “a man must be a little more than
good
to hold a high office in the Government.”

“But Sir Charles has always given the utmost satisfaction.”

Sarah looked distastefully at the large figure in the chair. She was going to be in one of her stubborn moods and Sarah had counted on getting this matter settled as quickly as possible. What on earth did the fat fool think she was wasting her time here for if it was not to arrange affairs to her liking. Marl had warned her, but she knew her dear cautious old Marl. Godolphin was even more cautious—cowardice she called that. A fine state of affairs with Marlborough abroad and Godolphin afraid and an obstinate old Queen on whom so much time had to be wasted.

“Mrs. Morley knows that I always make her affairs my constant concern,” said Sarah sternly. “I do assure her that the time has come for Hedges to go.”

“On what grounds?” asked the Queen.

“He is a bumbling old fool.”

“He has never shown me that he is anything but fitted for his duties.”

“Mrs. Morley is apt to form attachments and in her kindness be blinded to truths.”

Here was another suggestion that she was edging towards senility. Anne set her painful feet firmly on their stool and a cool note crept into her voice.

“And whom have you in mind to fill the position?”

“Who could do it but Sunderland.”

Sunderland! Sarah’s son-in-law, a man whom Anne had never liked, a man who had opposed the proposal for dear George’s annuity! No, said Anne to herself and wished that she dared say it openly to Sarah. No, no, no!

“A brilliant young man,” went on Sarah almost angrily. “Oh, I know he has had his strange ideas. But what young man worth his salt has not? He is a brilliant fellow. Adventurous!”

“I do not think I should care for him,” said Anne. “His temper is not one which appeals to me. I do not think we should be friends.”

“Nonsense, Mrs. Morley would soon begin to understand him.”

“I understand all I want to now, Mrs. Freeman.”

“You don’t know the fellow. I’ll tell you this: Mr. Freeman has not always been fond of him, but now he agrees with me that he has a touch of genius.”

No, thought Sarah, Marl had not always been fond of him. Not very long ago—before Blenheim—he had felt like murdering the fellow. It was Sunderland who had dropped that hint to her of Marl’s infidelity and caused them both such anguish. Why should she speak for him now. Because the need for complete power was beyond minor personal irritation. Because Sunderland was a Whig and Hedges a Tory, because he was her son-in-law and it was her desire to make a strong family war-head to fight off all their enemies. Marlborough, Commander in chief. Godolphin, head of the Government. Sunderland, Secretary of State. And Sarah the Queen. Who could stand against that combination? If she could bring that about the whole of the country and of Europe would know who ruled England.

“I do not like his temper,” persisted Anne, “and should never have a friendly relationship with him.”

“I will send him along to talk to you.”

“Pray do not, Mrs. Freeman. I have no wish to talk to him.”

“I do assure you you are making a mistake.”

“I do not like his temper, and should never have a friendly relationship with him.”

Here we go! thought Sarah angrily. The parrot has taken charge of my fat friend.

“If the Duke of Marlborough wrote to you and told you that he believed Sunderland would make an excellent Secretary of State would you believe me then?”

“It grieves me not to be in agreement with my dear Mrs. Freeman, but I can say that I know as much as I wish to know of my Lord Sunderland.”

“Personal likes cannot come into such a matter,” cried Sarah.

“I have always found it so useful to be on friendly terms with my ministers.”

“If Mrs. Morley would only listen to me.”

“But Mrs. Freeman knows nothing gives me greater pleasure than to listen to her.”

“You have set yourself against me on this occasion.”

“It is because I do not like the man’s temper and should never have a friendly relationship with him.”

The Queen, who had been playing with her fan, lifted it up to her lips and kept it there. It was a gesture which Sarah knew well and which never failed to exasperate her. It meant that Anne had made up her mind on a certain point and in her obstinate way was not going to be moved from it.

“I can see, Madam,” said Sarah coldly, “that it is useless to talk to you further … on this day.”

Anne did not answer, but kept the fan to her mouth.

“It is time,” said Sarah, “that I went down to Woodstock to see how the work is progressing. I must say that I am not very pleased at the dilatoriness. Your Majesty knows how long it is since Mr. Freeman won the greatest battle in history for you. And they have done scarcely anything yet.”

Anne continued to press her fan to her lips. Sarah thought: She’s saying her parrot phrase over and over again in her mind, I’ll swear. But she’ll come round. I’ll see that she does. In the meantime it was a relief to escape from Court and the need to listen to such sentimental or senile bleatings.

Anne was relieved
when Sarah went. Sunderland! she thought. That man. Never.

She pulled the bell rope.

“Hill,” she said. “Send Hill.”

Abigail came, green eyes anxious.

“Your Majesty is unwell?”

“So tired, Hill. So very tired.”