The Queen's Favourites aka Courting Her Highness (v5) (32 page)

“Is it a headache, Madam? Shall I bathe your forehead? There is that new lotion I found the other day.”

“Yes, Hill. Please.”

How quietly Hill moved about the apartment.

“Hill, my feet are so painful.”

“Perhaps a warm poultice, Madam.”

“It might be good. But bathe them first.”

“After I have soothed your head, Madam?”

“Yes, Hill, after.”

Such a comfort to feel those gentle hands; such a comfort to watch the dear creature. She was so different … so soothing.

I believe, thought the Queen, that I am
glad
Mrs. Freeman has gone.

That was impossible of course. She loved Mrs. Freeman beyond anyone … even dear George, her own husband. Mrs. Freeman was so vital, so beautiful. It was a joy to watch her eyes flash and the sun on that magnificent hair of hers. But that man! After having dared vote against George’s allowance! He was a crank in any case. At one time he had talked about giving up his title and remaining plain Charles Spencer. No sign of that when his father had died. He was the Earl of Sunderland now.

“I do not like the man’s temper and should never have a friendly relationship with him,” she said aloud.

“You spoke, Madam?”

“I was thinking aloud, Hill.”

“Something has happened to disturb Your Majesty?”

“The Duchess suggests I make Sunderland Secretary of State. Sunderland! I never did like the man.”

“No, Your Majesty, and that is understandable.”

“He has never been a friend to the Prince and as you know, Hill, no one who was not a friend of the Prince could be a friend of mine.”

“Your Majesty and the Prince are an example to all married couples in this realm.”

“I have been fortunate, Hill, in marrying one of the kindest men alive.”

“It is only necessary to see the Prince’s care for Your Majesty to realize that.”

“Such a good man, Hill! And Sunderland voted against his allowance and now would like to be my Secretary of State in place of dear Sir Charles Hedges—such a charming man whom I have always liked.”

“How fortunate that it is for Your Majesty to choose her ministers.”

“Of course, Hill.”

Anne felt better already. Dear Hill, always so soothing!

“I hate to disappoint the Duchess, Hill.”

“But, Madam, the Duchess must hate to disappoint you.”

The Queen was silent as a memory of Sarah’s flushed and angry face floated before her.

“The Duchess left in a hurry,” said Hill, speaking more boldly than she usually did, for it was rarely that she offered an opinion or an observation. “She seemed angry. She must be so … with herself … for having offended Your Majesty.”

Anne pressed the small freckled hand of her attendant. Dear Hill! So tactful! So different.

“I do not like the man’s temper, Hill,” she said firmly, “and I should never have a friendly relationship with him.”

Abigail Hill put
on a cloak which concealed her from top to toe and coming out of the Palace sped across the park.

She paused before a mansion in Albermarle Street, knocked, and when she was admitted asked that Mr. Harley be told Mrs. Abigail Hill wished to speak to him without delay.

She did not have to wait long. She was taken into a drawing room and there was joined after a few minutes by Harley himself.

As ever she was excited by his presence. He was like a different person in his own home—less formal—and she could not help picturing herself as the mistress of such a home.

His eyes were a trifle glassy and as he came into the room even before he approached her she could smell the wine on his breath. But he was by no means intoxicated. She realized that the smell of wine or spirits was always with him; yet never did he appear influenced by it in the slightest way.

“My dear cousin,” he said; coming to her and taking her hands; as he did so the hood fell back from her head and he smiled into her eyes; and in that moment he conveyed nothing but his pleasure to see her, completely hiding the urgent desire to know why she had taken this unusual step.

She did not keep him in suspense.

“The Queen is agitated and even angry I suspect with the Duchess who has suggested that Sunderland replace Hedges.”

He was alert at once.

“Sunderland!” he said. “What a position! We must not let that happen, cousin.”

“So I thought.”

“And the Queen … she is at least angry.”

Abigail nodded. “She keeps repeating that she doesn’t like him and would never be friends with him. Sarah has left in a huff.”

“What a fool she is. Thank God! She has left Court?”

“I think so.”

“Make sure of that. She must not have any idea that we enjoy those friendly little sessions in the green closet. If she does that will be an end to them, for she is not such a fool as to allow them to go on.”

“She has no suspicion.”

“We must keep her in ignorance, but I should see the Queen without delay. Dear clever little cousin, find some means of conveying a message to me when you are sure Sarah is well away, and try to get the Queen
alone
in the closet.”

Abigail nodded. “The Prince …”

“Does not count, dear coz, providing he sleeps—and he is almost certain to do that. Hot chocolate is very soothing. Suggest it and get him well asleep. He is inclined to favour the Marlboroughs and might have a favourable word to say for them.”

“He fancies himself as a great soldier and therefore admires the Duke.”

“Now is the time, cousin, to work swiftly and in secret. Sunderland must not have the post. We must prevent it.”

“I will let you know as soon as I am sure Sarah has left Court. Then … the green closet meeting.”

“My sweet cousin. It is good, is it not that we can work together thus?”

“It gives me great pleasure to do as you wish,” answered Abigail.

He smiled at her and lifting her hood pulled it up over her head.

“Go now,” he said. “It would not be good for it to be known you had come here.”

She nodded, excited as always by the conspiracy between them, by the secret allure of this man.

He conducted her down the beautiful curved staircase. She saw an open door and in the room beyond a woman was seated at a table.

She knew who that woman was. His wife!

She hurried down the stairs and out into the air.

How ridiculous it was to dream! And of what did she dream?

She should be content with what was hers, for she had a great deal. She, who had lived in poverty in this City which she now saw straggling out before her, who had been a maid in the house of Lady Rivers, was now a friend of the Queen of England—yes, she was a friend; no one was going to say she was not. Anne was fond of her. Perhaps more fond than she realized. Only at present she was bemused by Sarah Churchill—perhaps in much the same way in which Abigail Hill was bemused by Robert Harley. Such enchantments gave no satisfaction. There was pleasure in reality. Anne found more ease and comfort with plain quiet Abigail Hill than she ever would with brilliant Sarah Churchill; and Abigail Hill would never find lasting happiness if she looked to Robert Harley for it.

Abigail made a decision as she walked briskly across the Park.

The next time Samuel Masham asked her to marry him she would accept.

The Queen was
seated in her chair sipping hot chocolate. So pleasant and Hill made it deliciously. The Prince in spite of his heavy dinner at three o’clock when he had partaken a little too much of the sucking pig, was ready for his chocolate, and as Hill had suggested it, she had had some too.

Hill was at the harpsichord and it was a long time since the Queen had been so contented.

A scratching at the door! How lightly and quickly Hill sped across a room!

Now she was back at the Queen’s chair.

“Mr. Harley, Your Majesty. He humbly begs to be admitted.”

“Dear Mr. Harley. Such a pleasure to see him!”

Harley came in; he bowed; he took the white hand—a little swollen at the moment, but still beautiful—and kissed it.

“Your Majesty is so gracious to receive me thus.”

“My dear Mr. Harley I was just thinking what pleasant times we have had here.”

“Your Majesty’s goodness overwhelms me.”

“Perhaps Mr. Harley would care to take some chocolate, Hill.”

Mr. Harley assured the Queen that he had come straight from dinner and would take no chocolate.

Harley complimented the Queen on her looks. He was certain that she looked more healthful than when they had last met.

“My dear good Hill takes care of me,” said the Queen.

“And the Prince seems better too.”

“His asthma troubles him greatly. He had difficulty in breathing last night. It is worse after dinner and supper. I have told him that if his appetite were less good his asthma might be better. But Hill makes a good brew which he inhales and that has brought him some relief. Hill, you must tell Mr. Harley about this brew of yours.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I shall be most interested to hear of it.”

“The Prince’s health is a matter of great concern to me,” went on the Queen.

“Your Majesty is such a devoted wife. He is the most fortunate Prince alive.”

“And I am most fortunate to have him.”

The Prince muttered in his sleep.

“It is all right, George,” said the Queen. “Mr. Harley is saying charming things about you.”

The Prince grunted while Harley watched him cautiously. It was when he assured himself that George was fast asleep that he said: “I’ve heard a disturbing rumour, Madam.”

“Oh!” The pleasure slipped from Anne’s face.

“It need
not
disturb Your Majesty,” said Harley hastily. “In fact, I am sure it will not because, Madam, you will never allow ambitious people to choose your ministers for you.”

“Is it that man?”

“Sunderland, yes.”

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

“It is not to be wondered at. Like Your Majesty
I
do not like his temper and I know I could never have a friendly relationship with him.”

Delight spread across the Queen’s face. It was always pleasing when someone took up her phrases and used them as their own.

“Your Majesty will agree with me,” went on Harley, “that we must not allow this to come to pass.”

“I am so pleased, Mr. Harley, that you are in such agreement with me.”

“Your Majesty is so gracious that you forget you are the ruler of this realm.”

“I could not rule it without the help of my ministers and it is necessary that I enjoy a friendly relationship with them.”

“Of the utmost necessity,” agreed Harley.

“And with that man …”

“Your Majesty never could.”

“It is so very, very true.”

“I fear, Madam, that there is a conspiracy afoot.”

“A conspiracy!”

“To form a strong alliance of a certain family …”

Abigail was holding her breath. This was very dangerous ground. Anyone who had seen the Queen and Sarah together must know how strong were Anne’s feelings for her friend. This was coming out into the open most dangerously.

“Madam,” went on Harley hurriedly, for he was well aware of the danger, “I owe much to the great Duke. I was his protégé. He helped me to my place. But I serve my Queen with all my heart, and if to show my gratitude to those who had been my benefactors in the past means betraying my Sovereign—then, Madam, I must needs be ungrateful.”

“Dear Mr. Harley, I understand you. I understand perfectly.”

“Your Majesty’s powers of perception have always encouraged me. It is for this reason that I dare speak to you thus now.”

“Pray, Mr. Harley, be completely frank with me.”

“Then, Madam, I will say this. It is not good for the welfare of this country that one family should be so strongly represented that it is in fact the ruling family. There is one ruler of this country and one only. I will serve my Queen with all my heart and soul but I will serve no family which by clever contrivance has ousted her from her birthright.”

“Contrivance!” gasped the Queen. “Ousted!”