Abigail's Cousin (4 page)

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Later that evening, long after her master
and mistress would be expected to have retired, Mrs Chudleigh
making her final round thinking she had left a candle burning in
the library, peepe
d
around the door. She saw the Earl of Marlborough whispering to
himself while collecting items from the floor and shaking her head,
quietly withdrew.

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In the
selfsame library in which the Marlboroughs had quarrelled over the
use of the carriage and which had seen Lady Marlborough fly into a
tantrum, which had seen flying apples and an airborne crystal bowl
and where Lord Marlborough had later quietly come to collect up his
wife's fallen tresses which would only see the light of day again
at his death, long into the future, in that same room, all was now
quiet. It was earlier in the day also and there was only one person
in it and she sitting quietly in expectation and bore no title but
plain, prosaic Mistress Abigail.

She hardly
ventured to move except to allow her eyes to wander round the
shelves reading titles of books, and, not quite managing to make
out one particular title, rather than allow her eyes to move on to
one she could read with ease had risen from her seat determined the
title should not escape her scrutiny.

She read its
gothic script which letters not formed in a more normal classic
font were not familiar. She read out to herself, Prior's Humorous
Poetry removing the book from the shelf to take a closer look where
from its pages a slip of paper flutters to the floor then hearing a
footstep outside quickly replaces the book and picks up the paper
slipping it up her wide sleeve while resuming her chair just as the
door opens and Lady Churchill enters, Abigail rises, her hostess
greeting her:

"Good morrow,
cousin. Set you down now. So you received my message from Mrs
Chudleigh, no doubt over breakfast." And as Abigail replies with
the customary courtesy, her hostess exclaims:

"Lord me! A
word cousin. I needs must prick myself betimes when people address
me as lady not being born such, so to speak, so I shall be only too
pleased not to hear 'your ladyship', dear Abigail, at least, in the
family circle."

Lady
Marlborough listens as Abigail stumbles from: "Very well, your.. I
mean ma'am, uh cousin," not quite crediting her normally pert guest
with hesitation but, as if to emphasise her elevation says: "I
would not wish such civility upon you cousin." thinking the plain
girl before her was unlikely to tread the same path anyway.

She smiled
complacently at Abigail and striding over and taking both hands in
hers said comfortingly:

"We're cousins
but I'd like us to be friends. How many years have you as I confess
I've lost count since last we met. Then remembering her own
sensitivity about age, blurts: "Beg pardon, cousin. I did not
think."

But Abigail
smiled engagingly at Sarah saying: "I mind not cousin. It's the
first thing a family asks and I no longer set great store by such
niceties. I'll have twenty four summers next October."

"Lord!" said
Sarah, "I wasn't so far off in my guess. There is not ten years
between us. Come, share a seat on the chaise-lounge."

And Abigail
having done so Sarah examined rather unkindly her cousin's
complexion remarking:

"The pocks has
left you unblemished, my dear; just a few deep marks, which are
largely hidden by freckles."

Abigail under
scrutiny could not help redden, saying nervously: "I needs must
thank you ma'am, I mean cousin, for treating me so very kindly. It
is not everyone that be so fortunate. Mrs Chudleigh's sister, for
instance."

Sarah thinking
how she had softened her attitude since the wagon ride now was
taken aback by this latest piece of information, but repeated the
mantra: "It is a deadly scourge. And no-one spared whether low or
highborn. But seeing as how you've recovered so well it seems
you'll be spared henceforth. Leastways Doctor Glanville believes
so."

She paused a
while looking intently at Abigail who sat, hands together on her
lap, a finger nervously smoothing a crease on her gown. At last,
Sarah spoke: "I wonder cous if I might ask a favour of you. You see
the lady Ferrers so badly needs a nurse and I was wondering if you
could possibly help them out as their present domestic family is
quite unable to cope."

Abigail
realised at once Sarah's request was virtually an instruction but
she was happy enough to be able to do something in return,
returning her smile and commenting:

“Of course,
cousin. When would they like me to start?" And Sarah pleased at her
immediate acceptance hastened to reassure her: "Are you quite sure
you be quite returned to health? Though, looking at you cous, that
question hardly needs asking."

Abigail smiled
sweetly telling her cousin it was considerate of her to assure
herself and asking for details of the Ferrers and where they lived,
and how long Sarah estimated the journey would take. Sarah was once
again taken aback though pleased with her candour and openness.

There was something else playing on
Sarah's mind since she had got to know her cousin better. She
employed her father as an opening
gambit:

"Mister Hill,
your father, seemed a very discerning man. How came he to acquire
all those manuscripts and books which all too sadly had to be sold.
And the pictures! Knew you of the Holbein? Lord! I made a bid, but
a thousand guineas was far beyond my meagre means."

Lady
Marlborough's comment had saddened Abigail and Sarah bit her lip in
consternation that the subject still caused pain. She was surprised
therefore to be asked:

"What were my
father's debts that a thousand guineas needs must go towards them.
Were all his debts paid?"

Her directness discomfited Sarah but she
pressed on
: "Your
father's sad death, coz, followed by the passing of your dear
mother," here she paused dabbing her eyes and querulously
added:

"Your family
is free of debt. Have no fear! Creditors must answer to me as I am
executrix of your family's estate."

Abigail looked perplexed saying: "Pardon
me cousin. I had no idea the Jennings and the Hills were so
clo
se. Mother never
mentioned it."

Sarah could no longer remain seated and
got up to walk to the window. As she did so she wondered whether
her newly acquired bustle was crumpled and then noticing Abigail
looking at her with
the
same quizzical mien, said:

"
It was your brother Sidney, my dear. He gave me power of
attorney, before he left."

Her
countenance clouded over: "Ah, Sydney!" she whispered, "That
explains a lot. Where is he, by the way, cousin?"

Sarah replied
reluctantly: We managed to secure a position for him with the
Godolphins, as footman, I think." To change the subject Sarah walks
to the bookshelf, pointing to a row of books and said: "These books
are from your father's library. I bought a job lot."

Abigail got up
and fingered the spines then looking to her hostess with the
observation: "I thought to recognise some of them. I'm pleased they
have a good home."

"Yes," said
Sarah as if to deprecate Abigail's praise, "we rescued them from
the auctioneer. He would have burnt them, I'm sure. I bought the
whole bookshelf for ten guineas. A bargain, eh!"

She went on to
read a few titles out: "Plato, Pliny, Plutarch, Prior... Lord me! I
know none of them." Then she mentally jumped to another purchase,
adding: "Bought also a harpsichord, for a song. I wonder he had
time to play."

"He bought it
for me, on my twenty-first birthday," croaked Abigail sadly almost
in tears.

Sarah was, once again, taken aback. Her
mother had wanted her to learn the harpsichord but thinking back
she recalled her girlish impatience, and neglect of the instrument
in favour of dancing, singing, conversation and fooling around, and
here was her lowly cousin not only able to play but having a
harpsichord bought for her. Now it was hers, Sarah's. Despite all
the advantages she had as Lady Marlborough, this plain, lowly woman
could do something s
he
could not.

Were Sarah a contemplative person, capable
of examining herself introspectively, she might, at some future
date, look back wondering when her cousin's loyalty wavered. It
would not have been a sacrifice to deprive herself of this
instrument and present it to her cousin,
especiall
y after this
plea from Abigail:

"It was the
only possession I ever treasured of dear father. Yet I would gladly
have surrendered it to rescue my mother's...." She did not finish
as sobs choked her preventing her speaking.

Sarah said as
though to comfort her: "You can play the harpsichord, cousin,
whenever you've a mind to, and who knows, when you have a home of
your own." She could not bring herself to give up the instrument
not realising the cost of such a gesture might have spared her much
anguish, later. There was a scratching at the door and Abigail
rose, looking at Sarah, as though they shared a secret.

On opening the
door, she called out: "Now, little miss. Are you playing or!" upon
which note Sarah appeared speaking sharply: "Now child what is
going on?"

The little
girl stood up offering her doll to Abigail who looked at Sarah who
said: "It's our coachman's little girl. Now Mary, run off into the
kitchen like a good girl!"

"Take my hand,
miss Mary!" offered Abigail smiling defiantly at her cousin, "We'll
go to the kitchen, together, shall we? Are you going to show me the
way?"

"Yes, please!" cried Mary taking the
proffered hand and off they went down the corridor leaving Sarah
feeling rather miffed that her cousin had not asked her leave nor
even given her a backward glance. Was it just thoughtlessness or a
defiant sense of independence? She hoped the former as she
h
ad definite plans for
Abigail.

Roads in the
closing years of the seventeenth century were little better than
the farm tracks of today where the farmer will fill in holes to
even out bumps for a reasonably even ride on his tyred tractor.
Tyres however were well into the future and the inventor of the
modern macadamised road had not been born. However cantilever
springing had brought a degree of comfort and the Marlborough's
carriage was so equipped though the wheels were still of wood with
an iron band smithied onto the circumference with the object to
inhibit wear rather than provide any extra comfort.

Having set out and joined the Cottonmill
Lane in the direction of the London road, they were at the
mile-house before Sarah ventured to say anything
to her companion, Abigail Hill:

"For once his
lordship, my lord and master, has seen fit not to take the carriage
and has taken Chestnut into the City."

"The carriage
is much more comfortable than the wagon" replied Abigail, adding:
"But the great bonus is having Tom. His Grace will miss him keenly
today unless he has got to know London streets in the
meantime."

Sarah agreed:
"Had I thought on him yesterday evening, I might still have my
hair. Denying his services to my lord and master put a different
complexion on things."

Abigail in a reflective mood, said: "I'm
so looking fo
rward to
meeting brother Jack."

Lady Churchill
looked at Abigail with amusement as her memory of Abigail's brother
was of his maintaining distance between himself and his sister.
There seemed to be no brotherly longing for togetherness, but
perhaps, being an only child, she had little understanding of a
brother and sister relationship. To keep up the conversation, she
mused aloud:

"It be strange
the preferences of princes."

"I think you
mean," replied Abigail, "about my Jack being too tall for Prince
George's liking."

Sarah hastened
to dispel any suggestion of lese-majesty, saying: "It be a little
unseemly I think that a great gallant like your Jack should tower
over a prince of the royal blood, and a foreigner at that."

Abigail burst
out laughing and Sarah raised her eyebrows until Abigail explained:
"He wasn't too tall to reach the apples in the orchard, last
summer."

"Or the ladle
to help himself of the cider" retorted Sarah sternly, "Otherwise I
scarce saw neither sight nor sound of him."

"But he was
well liked," insisted Abigail though Sarah still was grudging:
"Especially with a few ladles of cider tucked away."

"His
speciality was bottles, ma'am." Sarah looked up sharply to see the
little hatch open and Tom peering down. She said: "You gave me a
shock Tom as I didn't hear you open the hatch."

Tom went on
garrulously: "Did you never 'ear 'is nickname, ma'am. That were
four-bottle Jack. Nobody beat 'is record, nor never will."

Sarah reproved him: "You mind the
road
, Tom. Never mind,
Jack!"

"Just want to tell e ma'am. We be at
London Colney."
And with
that advice he shut the hatch and Abigail commented that each
bottle held a quart so that her brother would have a gallon of
cider swilling round inside him to which Sarah wrinkled her nose in
disgust commenting:

"I
trust he paid for it, himself."

In order to dispel her cousin's gloomy
mood, Abigail changed the subject: "Brother Jack is very grateful
that you were able to find a place for him in the Duke of
Gloucester's household. He'll be very sorry to leave
the prince's family,
naturally." She paused reflectively then added: