Abigail's Cousin (30 page)

'Well enough
to do our business with him." answered St John, "He is still our
man then?"

Harley looked grim all of a sudden and
said with obvious distaste:
"An odious creature. Her majesty dislikes him."

"It is not
hard to look for a reason why she finds him hateful knowing her
sensitivity towards the flesh, shall we say, having been awarded an
earldom on being the brother of the Villiers sisters."

Harley
laughed: "I should judge he merited an earldom. Imagine the slings
and arrows aimed at him simply for b-being the b-brother of two
courtesans."

St John said
prosaically: "What a burden for the poor chap. Perhaps that is why
he became a Catholic, and hence a Jacobite."

"There you
have it Henry." said Harley, "Her majesty cannot abide Jacobites so
we must b-be careful."

"What sorcery
is the master contemplating?" asked St John intrigued. In response
Harley moved his chair closer to his friend's and lowered his
voice: "The message to Louis from the Abbe Gaultier is that it is a
Stuart restoration we p-plan at b-bottom."

His colleague got excited at Harley's
conspiratorial behaviour and said
:

"What
intrigues me, Robert, is how you plan to smuggle the Abbe out of
England and into France. How did you get to know him?"

Harley almost purred with contentment.
There
was nothing he
liked better than parading his cleverness, especially to an
admirer. He went on to explain: "Marlborough captured him along
with le marechal Villars at B-blenheim. The Abbe was his p-personal
chaplain and was imprisoned with him. He knows the French coast
like the b-back of his hand."

"What about
our side of the Channel?" Insisted St.John, "How do you allow him
to travel and embark without being arrested as a French spy?"

"One of the prerogatives of Minister for
War," explained Harley, "is to approve the appointments of
commanders of castles."

His friend
smiled: "You old devil."

Harley
concurred asking rhetorically: "What is the p-point of b-being in
government, if you cannot call the shots?"

St. John
ruminated then suggested: "When I was Minister for War, I believe
Walmer Castle came within my purview."

Harley
chuckled: "To cut a long story short, we have Mrs Masham's close
relatives in on the act."

"Let me
guess," said St John, "Colonel Masham for Walmer and Hill will
command a troop of Light Dragoons to escort the Abbe from
London."

"Except b-both
will be b-brigadiers ere long, or my name is not what I was
christened." said Harley.

"One thing
bothers me Robert." The man addressed adopted a resigned air as he
suspected what was coming but patiently listened, His friend drew a
deep breath: "I was a serving officer in the British army in the
field and I know a very serious view was taken on spying for the
enemy. Yet here we are ministers of her majesty's government about
to pursue clandestine negotiations with enemy agents. My officer's
rank would not have protected me Robert. It would have been the
firing squad. If this goes wrong you and I might be indicted as
traitors."

St John
stopped and his face was suffused with deep red as he realised that
Harley had already been accused of that very thing. His listener
laid a hand on his friend's knee and said comfortingly:

"Take no
account of me, Henry. I know I'm acting for the b-benefit of my
country. One day the truth will out, b-but if you want out, you can
get up and leave now." St John put his arm around Harley and could
not prevent a sob escaping as he blurted out:

"On no account
Robert am I quitting. I want to see this thing through. As you say,
one day the truth will out. Posterity will be our judge."

Harley patted his friend's shoulder: "It
is all right Henry. I knew you meant nothing. Yet I confess to
feel
ing a traitor or
turncoat, p-put like that. It falls to some Henry to incur
dishonour for the sake of the country's good. This is such a
moment."

St John said:
"We must keep this mind too in dealing with the likes of the earl
of Jersey."

Harley sighed
saying: "We have to keep him convinced we aim for a Stuart
restoration."

"Is there
nobody else?" asked St John and in response Harley bent over to St
John: "He has the ear of Louis himself who told him of his rage
when Charles died owing him three million gold louis."

"Phew!"
exploded St John, "What services did he expect and did not
get?"

"Can
't you guess, Henry! Only the throne of England itself; it
is said that French troops had landed at Portsmouth and a message
sent to the King in London."

"What
happened?" asked an incredulous St John.

"Charlie had kicked the b-b-bucket, that's
what happ
ened. Lucky for
the likes of us; we English have had some lucky
escapes."

"That might
make up for that lucky arrow shot which cost Harold an eye and his
life and brought the anglo-saxons a hundred years of slavery. We
deserve some luck after that."

"How will
Jersey pull it off?" asked St John.

"At b-bottom
Henry the earl believes with all his b-being in our plan to restore
the Stuarts and as such he is trusted by Louis. He and the Abbe
speak the same language in church matters, language, love of
France. He may not b-be an Englishman's, or indeed her majesty's
favourite man, but he will serve our purpose well."

St John said:
"Are you sure Jersey is not playing a double game. What I mean is
he will be putting forward our terms which presume an independent
England including all the gains we have made in this war such as
Gibraltar, Minorca, the Newfoundland."

"That is the
b-beauty of it, Henry" opined Harley, "Here is a Stuart arguing for
a Protestant agenda and Louis will grant it b-because, and here is
the clever bit." Harley paused and smiled with huge satisfaction,
"the clever b-bit is that Louis will grant all these concessions in
the expectation they will all b-be revoked, one day - but they will
not b-be. England will win the trading concessions with Louis' own
connivance."

St John said
nothing. He was overwhelmed by the master's scheme. Harley though
was not resting on his laurels. He said:

"I want you
Henry to discover the tides at Deal in Kent. I don't want Gaultier
hanging around in the town waiting for the tide to turn." St John
acquiesced with a nod. The thought chasing through his mind was
that Harley was as avid for the detail as he was conversant with
the bigger picture. All he had to do was to hang on to this man's
coat-tails.

"We had better synchronise our
fob-clocks." suggested St John and Harley gave his colleague an
appreciative look and words of praise: "You're learning Henry. It
is such attention to detail that will b-bring you the earldom of
B-bolingbroke."

It was
fortunate for Anne that Kensington Palace had been formerly a
country house originally built in 1605 for Sir George Coppin, but,
which for some reason lay empty after his death for some
considerable time until Queen Mary, joint monarch and consort to
William III, anxious to get away from the unhealthy atmosphere of
Whitehall, purchased the property and set about turning it into a
royal residence, in short, a palace. Sadly by her death in 1694 the
alterations she had envisaged were still not complete though her
sister Anne, now queen, would take full advantage of her sister's
vision.

One of her
sister's creations was the Queen's Gallery, a room thirty six
metres in length fitted on the outside with the new Vauxhall Plate
Glass panels by Gerrit Jensen and Anne never omitted heaping mental
praise on her sister as she entered the palace via the Queen's
Portico then walking through the aforementioned gallery to her own
favourite chamber, the Queen's Drawing Room, all upon the ground
floor. In this Anne was fortunate as she could never have managed
the stairs of newly constructed palaces built according to the
design of the latest in-architect, Inigo Jones, (long dead but
whose influence still reigned) who invariably placed all
state-rooms of national buildings on the first floor.

Yet this
arrangement was of great satisfaction to the Duchess of Marlborough
who after four children was still lissom enough to manage the grand
staircase of Kensington Palace with scarcely a pause for breath
unlike the much younger men who accompanied her one Friday morning
of January 20th, 1710. His grace the duke had just dropped them off
from his barouche having other business to attend to, and having
ushered her companions into the palace for the purpose of their
meeting, she took great delight in ascending the enormous stairs
challenging her companions, Charles Spencer, earl of Sunderland and
Arthur Maynwaring, MP for Preston. She called cheerfully:

"Now then
Charles, the exercise should improve your circulation after that
dreary journey from Whitehall."

"It's exercise
I can do without, dear mother-in-law. Show me a blazing fire so I
can rub my hands. That's an exercise I shall appreciate, eh
Arthur!"

Spencer was
replying to the duchess though his reference to Maynwaring brought
no reaction from the MP because the three people were confronted by
a footman on gaining the top whom the duchess addressed:

"Have you seen
her majesty today, Goodman?"

"No, your
ladyship," he replied adding: "Her majesty never appears on a
Friday, but I could check with the senior footman, ma'am."

"Do not bother
about it, Goodman." She had known that Anne would not be in the
palace as it was for that reason she had pressed her two companions
to meet with her today. Both men gave up their hats and coats to
the footman whereas the duchess kept her hat and carriage coat on.
She played the hostess directing Maynwaring and Spencer to
comfortable chairs whereas she demurred to join them complaining
the high backed chairs around the square table did not suit her.
They were the latest style having been named Queen Anne with the
latter's blessing, as was the table, and perhaps, the duchess was
overcome with feminine envy. Maynwaring said:

"My thanks,
milady. I can write up my report more easily at table than on the
day-bed, but do not let my convenience spoil your comfort my
lord."

The duchess
became brisk:

"It be a pity
the duke be not here, yet since his latest mortification one can
understand his reluctance to visit the palace in case he should
meet her majesty by chance."

"It's that
jade again, milady, I know it. What has she been up to now?"

Spencer was
puzzled at Maynwaring's outburst and turning to her asked: "So what
is the latest calamity, mother-in-law?"

"Only that the
position of Constable of the Tower is within his grace's gift and
he virtually promised it to the Duke of Northumberland."

Her ladyship
paced the carpet becoming more indignant with each step and Spencer
hoping to appease her and to confirm her opinion, ventured:

"Indeed! I was
with the two when his grace all but promised him the position."

"All but,
Charles! What mean you? Northumberland even went so far as to have
a new uniform specially made up." She rounded on Spencer
menacingly: "What do you mean, all but?"

Spencer had
put his foot in it which had been farthest from his mind, yet truth
to tell, not a very profound mind. He started to explain:

"I understood,
mother-in-law, that her majesty would have the final say-so, but
nonetheless a formality." Spencer had tried to ameliorate his
situation but she just stared at him and he added lamely:

"So what has
happened? Who has been given the position?"

She glared at
him, unmollified and barked: "Earl Rivers, that's who, and only
because he had been thwarted in his turn from being appointed
colonel of the earl of Essex' regiment."

Spencer looked
at Maynwaring for eye support but the MP was keeping his head down.
As the duchess' secretary, he knew from experience when to offer
support and when not. In the meantime, the duchess was also silent.
He knew she was sulking. He tried to retrieve some favourable
response from her, by saying, thoughtfully:

"Aha, I think
I understand. So who is to be the new colonel? But, don't tell me.
I can guess. Would it be that good-for-nothing brother of Abigail
Masham?"

The duchess
eyes her son-in-law fiercely resenting his calling any member of
her family names even were it true. She said:

"I know who is
behind all this."

Spencer
resisted asking who for a while as something else bothered him. He
watched Maynwaring busily writing not making out a single word from
the wiggles and scrawls the secretary was writing, and then it hit
him. It was shorthand, spoken of often, but now witnessed. He said
dumbly:

"I trust you
can read what you've written, Maynwaring. I mean when you come to
write your report."

"Never fear
Charles. My secretary be the finest short-hander in town. Were you
as good a diplomat as he be a secretary!" Her ladyship did not
finish and Spencer felt suitably chastened. To change the subject
he said:

"And who then
is behind all these changed arrangements, mother-in-law?"

The duchess
looked towards her secretary and Spencer realised that Maynwaring
and the Duchess were more of a mind than he had ever attained.
Maynwaring told him:

"Why, my lord,
as if you did not know. It's our old friend, Robert Harley,
remember him?"

Spencer perked
up and offered his latest item of gossip: "When I was last in the
Kit-Cat, they told me he was back in town. Seems he still has not
got over his dismissal, following that famous meeting. Did it not
take place here in this building, on the lower floor?"