The Queen's Favourites aka Courting Her Highness (v5) (45 page)

Sarah took the
Queen triumphantly to her apartments.

“Dear Mrs. Morley, I pray you leave everything to me. Friends should be together at a time like this.”

Anne did not answer.

“If Mrs. Morley would like to go to the green closet I will take her there and have something warm and soothing sent to her.”

Anne nodded and together they went to the favourite room.

The green closet! There he had sat dozing in his chair while Masham played on the harpsichord, made bohea tea or produced something stronger which she served so daintily, moving noiselessly about the apartment. How she longed for the return of those days which were gone for ever. But Masham was still here.

She wanted Masham to come and Sarah to go and leave her alone. She never wanted to see Sarah again.

But Sarah was giving imperious orders. “Bring broth for Her Majesty. Yes, Mrs. Morley, it will do you good. You must
eat
. It will give you strength.”

The broth was brought, and Anne sipped it without tasting it.

“Now,” said Sarah, “I will see about ordering you a really nourishing dish. You will feel so much better when you have had something really good to eat. It was well that I brought you from that dismal place. You could do no good by staying there.”

Sarah went out and after a few moments there was a light scratching at the door.

Anne gave the order to enter, and when she saw who was there she gave a cry of joy. Abigail ran to her and knelt at her feet, kissing her hands.

“Masham … dearest Masham!” said the Queen.

Abigail lifted her face to the Queen’s; Abigail’s was blotched with weeping. The Queen stretched out her hands. “Such comfort to have you with me, my dear. Stay … stay here.”

Sarah came back and found them together.

The Prince lay
in state at Kensington for fifteen days before his body was conveyed to the Painted Chamber of Westminster. During this time Anne kept Abigail with her, although Sarah refused to leave the Court. Her posts
demanded
that she stay, she declared.

The Queen spent her days planning the funeral and drawing comfort from Abigail. Sarah looked on with distaste. It was most unseemly, she told Danvers. Did the Queen care nothing for the Prince, and all for ceremonies!

As the Queen was clearly heartbroken this statement seemed strange, but no one dared disagree with the Duchess of Marlborough.

Anne, wanting the whole country to understand that this was indeed a period of mourning, ordered the closing of all theatres. She herself remained in the green closet, seeing only her ministers and a few of her servants. Abigail was in constant attendance and the Duchess remained at St. James’s.

It was a shock to Sarah to see the change in Abigail, who, she told Godolphin, had become arrogant and completely forgetful that she was merely a chambermaid.

The funeral took place as Anne had wished with the utmost pomp—an impressive ceremony by torchlight attended by all the important ministers and officials.

But the main preoccupation of the Queen’s ministers—Whig and Tory—was not the death of the Queen’s husband but the shifting of the Queen’s favour from the Duchess of Marlborough to Mrs. Masham.

MARLBOROUGH’S REQUEST

he Duke was in England and Sarah had gone to
St. Albans to be with him. As usual there was great joy in being together, but they were both apprehensive for the future.

Marlborough was the great hero, but a war hero, and the people were tired of war. While Marlborough was abroad his enemies were undermining his position at home. He knew; but Sarah refused to accept it.

But the biggest disaster of all was the fact that Sarah had lost her place in the Queen’s affections.

In spite of the evidence she could not believe that she had been put aside in favour of her insignificant poor relation.

“Abigail Hill!” she would murmur even in her sleep. The woman was becoming an obsession.

“To think that I took her from a broom!” she would say apropos of nothing. There was no rest from the subject.

Marlborough, more philosophical than his wife, tried to soothe her and at the same time warn her. He might have said that it was her overbearing behaviour which had brought about the rift, which would have been true, but he refrained. He knew his Sarah and he loved her for what she was; and in any case had always known it was useless to try and change her.

Therein lay the success of their relationship, although some said that Marlborough was so devoted to his Sarah because he was forced to spend so much time away from her.

“Do not distress yourself so,” he begged her. “Give up struggling against the wind and the tide.”

“Give up everything to that chambermaid.”

“You are only distressing yourself and not making the Queen more fond of you. You’ll never get her friendship back by railing against Masham.”

“I’ll force her to be friends again!”

Dear Sarah. Such energy, and so little knowledge of human nature!

He was tired, feeling his age. There had been moments of grandeur in his life but to what were they leading? Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde … and others—and what was the result? Loss of favour at home; his enemies working to oust him from politics if not from the Army; the peace he had hoped to make had not been achieved. He had wanted to take the war right to the gates of Paris and then he would have been able to make demands which Louis would have had to accept. But the Dutch were uneasy allies. As soon as he had made their frontiers safe for them, they wanted to have done with war.

And he himself? One could not be young for ever. Strangely enough he cared more for Sarah’s disappointments than for his own; but she would take no advice. She had listened to him more than to most, but she believed that she alone was capable of decision.

“It is no use hiding ourselves here,” she said, “while Abigail Hill and her friend Harley plot against us. Tomorrow I shall go to the Queen.”

In vain did Marlborough beg her not to act rashly. Sarah believed that eventually she would wear down the Queen’s resistance.

How peaceful it
was without Sarah at Court! thought Anne. It had been an exhausting time, giving constant audiences to her ministers. It seemed that they now realized that George was not so insignificant as they had once believed him to be. He had always been so good natured and never a troublemaker, so that they had been apt to overlook his strength.

The Queen had always liked to listen to his advice on state matters, even if she had not taken it; and his presence at the interviews gave her confidence. Moreover, he had a way of cutting short an interview which had gone on too long by showing his impatience for his dinner; which might seem a frivolous excuse for cutting short a conference, but was effective.

“Dearest George! What shall I do without him?” sighed the Queen.

There was Masham, always ready to help, always eager to comfort.

“At least
you
are left to me, dear Masham,” she said.

Abigail replied with fervour that she hoped to serve the Queen as long as she lived; she would ask nothing more of life.

“It is at such grievous times as this that we know our friends,” said the Queen.

“The Prince was the kindest of masters,” murmured Abigail. “Poor Masham is desolate.”

“Poor faithful Masham!” agreed the Queen. “The Prince always relied on him. He is a good man and I am glad you chose him for your husband.”

“I do not know how to comfort him, Madam. He is without one whom he revered and he has nothing with which to occupy his mind. I tell him the sooner he finds something to do the better. The Prince would not have wished him to grieve.”

“No,” she said. “Poor Masham! He has lost not only the kindest master in the world but his position.”

“I think he would like to join the Army, or to go into politics, Madam.”

“Well, he is following a noble example.”

“You mean the Duke’s.”

“Mr. Harley tells me that he wishes to govern the country as well as the army.”

“Mr. Harley is Your Majesty’s most brilliant statesman and he is very likely right. But poor Masham is no Marlborough, Madam. He would, I suppose, be grateful for a humble post … something to take his mind off this dreadful loss.”

“I understand, Masham. It is what the Prince would wish.”

“Your Majesty and the Prince were always in harmony. I declare it was a lesson for all married people merely to see you together.”

The Queen put her hand to her eyes and Abigail brought the handkerchief with which to wipe away the tears.

Marlborough returned to
the Continent to open a new campaign, and Sarah came to Court. But she could not now walk into the Queen’s apartments and scatter all those who were in attendance. She must ask for an audience and await the Queen’s pleasure.

She was constantly seeking openings to see the Queen, to bully her into returning to the old relationship. She found an opportunity to see her when she wanted her apartments to be extended and sent in a request that a few small rooms adjoining this apartment might be assigned to her. The reply came back that the Queen had already promised these rooms to one of her women.

Sarah was furiously frustrated. How dare Anne send her messages in this aloof fashion, as though she were some unknown person soliciting a favour!

She summoned Danvers whom she could still terrify.

“Is this true?” she demanded.

“Yes, Your Grace. The rooms are promised.”

“Which woman has them?” Sarah wanted to know, believing that if she made her wishes known the rooms would be relinquished.

“Alice Hill, Your Grace.”

“Alice Hill!” screamed Sarah. “Sister of the … chambermaid.”

“She is Mrs. Masham’s sister, Your Grace.”

“That’s who I mean,” cried Sarah.

“She has been given these rooms, Your Grace. Mrs. Masham thought those she had before were unsuitable.”

“But
I
wanted them! I shall see the Queen. I refuse to be treated in this way. Do you know, Danvers, that I took that woman from a broom.”

“Your Grace has mentioned it.”

“And now she seeks to direct me.”

“That, Your Grace, would be quite impossible.”

“It is impossible!” cried Sarah.

At length she
forced herself into the Queen’s presence. Anne was clearly fretful, playing with her fan, her eyes on the door, wondering, thought Sarah grimly, whether she can ask me to summon Masham. Dear Masham! Kind Masham! Who coos in her ear and gets favours for her good-for-nothing brother and ninny of a husband and … Sarah could have screamed in her rage … for that sly toad, that monster, that traitor Robert Harley.

“It would seem that Mrs. Morley sets out to frustrate me,” she cried. The Queen closed her eyes and looked tired.

“Even a simple matter of rooms …”

“If Mrs. Freeman has anything to say to me she may write it,” said the Queen.

“I have much to say to Your Majesty and I have been writing to you all through the years. It seems to me that Mrs. Morley has allowed herself to be deceived by those whose greatest pleasure is in doing harm to Mrs. Freeman.”

“If you have anything to say to me you may write it,” said the Queen.

She had her parrot cry and Sarah could see that she would not be tempted from it.

A pleasant state of affairs! What could she do with a woman like that? Her coolness was apparent and there were times when Anne could remind any subject—even Sarah—that she was the Queen.

So there was nothing Sarah could do but retire.

But she would not let the matter rest there. She had been told that if she had anything to say she could write it. If she had anything to say indeed! She had much to say to that ungrateful friend.

She therefore returned to her lodgings and set to work to write a long account of her twenty-six years’ service to the Queen. She quoted passages from Jeremy Taylor on the subject of friendship. She accused the Queen of infidelity and ingratitude. She surpassed even herself in her invective.

The Queen’s response to this missive was to express her grief. It was impossible for her to recover her former friendship towards Mrs. Freeman and her chief complaint against her was her inveteracy towards Mrs. Masham. She would however always treat Sarah with the respect due to the wife of the Duke of Marlborough. She would in time, read what Sarah had sent her, and give Sarah her reply.

That was all the answer Sarah could get. She waited for an answer to her accusations. None came.

And when she saw the Queen in church Anne smiled at her vaguely as she would towards any lady with whom she had a slight acquaintance.