Courting Her Highness (16 page)

All the same she cherished an affection for this man who had been her first lover; particularly as he had been more faithful to her father than most; he had never been a friend of William’s; and becoming leader of the Tory Party had stood in opposition to the Court for some years.

Anne remembered this as he stood before her and her eyes clouded with momentary sentiment. She would always remember him as her lover, although she was happily married and he had already been married twice.

How strange that now he stood before her, she could think of nothing to say to him. And he was waiting for her to speak, for it was the prerogative of the Sovereign to speak first.

The sun was streaming through the windows; it seemed a good omen that the cold March winds should have dropped and the first signs of spring show themselves on her first day as Queen.

“It is a very fine day,” said Anne.

“Your Majesty must allow me to declare that it is the finest day I ever saw in my life,” was the earnest answer.

“I see,” smiled Anne, “that you have not forgotten how to pay a compliment.”

“Your Majesty will never lose the gift of inspiring them.”

Sarah hastily ushered in the next visitor. She would have to watch Mulgrave if Anne were going to be foolishly sentimental over the fellow.

Abigail was aware of the slightly stubborn set of the Queen’s lips, and she was certain that Sarah should take more care what she did. But Sarah was blind, blinded by her own egotism. Should she be warned? Inwardly Abigail laughed at the idea. She pictured Sarah’s reaction if Abigail told
her to take care, for the proud Lady Marlborough would not relish being told what she should do by a chambermaid. But did the chambermaid want to warn her?

The page had returned and was talking to Sarah.

“My lord Clarendon replies that he has come to talk to his niece and that he will take no other oaths than he has taken.”

“Then pray tell my lord Clarendon that the Queen does not wish to see him until he recognizes her as his Sovereign.”

When the page had left Sarah turned triumphantly to Anne. “The stupid old man! Does he think he is going to rule this country! We will show him that he will have to take care in future how he treats Your Majesty. I remember how he behaved at the time William and Mary came over. He talked to you as though you were an erring infant in his control. I tell you, Master Clarendon will have to alter his ideas!”

There was no doubt that Sarah believed herself already to be in command of the Queen and the country.

The procession of ministers and courtiers came and went until it was time for the new Queen to attend service. This she did in St. James’s chapel and then retired to the apartments which had belonged to her dead son, while her own were hung with mourning.

“It is sad,” said Anne, “that on this day I should have to be reminded of my sorrow.”

“Tush!” retorted Sarah impatiently. “Mrs. Morley will have many children. She should think rather of those than the lost ones.”

Anne’s eyes filled with tears. “I fear there could never be another like my boy.”

It was Abigail who was ready with a handkerchief to wipe away the tears and a quick almost furtive smile passed between them, which Sarah did not see.

“I think Your Majesty should wear purple for mourning,” announced Sarah. “It will be different from that which you have been wearing for your father.”

“So many deaths … all at one time!” mused Anne.

“But such as we need not bother our heads with!” said Sarah harshly.

Abigail thought: She is too confident.

And a great excitement seized her.

Lady Marlborough was
in constant attendance. Even those menial tasks which she had left to Abigail were now performed by her. Some of the wits jokingly called her Queen Sarah.

Anne seemed content to have her favourite with her; they addressed each other in the old affectionate terms, but with Anne’s new rank Sarah too seemed to have assumed new dignity; it was quite clear that she saw herself as the power behind the throne.

Abigail had become merely the chambermaid and there were occasions when she believed that her original notion that the Queen had not really forgotten Sarah’s outburst were quite wrong. Judging by their conversation there appeared to be no doubt that Anne was as devoted as she had ever been.

“My dear Mrs. Freeman, I want you to have the Rangership of Windsor Park for life.”

“If Your Majesty insists,” said Sarah, modest for once.

“Of course I insist.”

“I had hoped to be Groom of the Stole and Mistress of the Robes so that I might be in constant attendance.”

“My dearest Mrs. Freeman, the posts are yours.”

“And the Privy Purse … Frankly, Mrs. Morley, I should hesitate to
trust
any with that.… I would take it on if Your Majesty insisted.…”

“You must take it on, Mrs. Freeman.”

Abigail’s heart sank. Anne must be completely besotted. What was this strange power of Sarah’s?

“Your Majesty has been so good to
me
,” said Sarah, “and that gives me great pleasure; but Your Majesty who so loves dear Mr. Morley will understand that I would give up everything that has come my way for one small honour for Mr. Freeman.”

“I remember how you once badly wanted the Garter for him,” said Anne.

“I am sure there is no one—just no one—at Court who deserves it more,” was the fierce rejoinder.

“You are right and it is only just that it should be his.”

“My dear Mrs. Morley!”

“My dearest Mrs. Freeman, so Morley has made you happy?”

It was incredible! thought Abigail. She had miscalculated; she would be an insignificant bedchamber woman for the rest of her days.

Sarah’s new posts brought in seven thousand five hundred a year, but Anne said that she needed more.

“You must allow me to give you a further two thousand, Mrs. Freeman.”

Sarah’s eyes sparkled, but of course she dared not accept. There would be trouble as there had been previously. She did not want it to be said that the Marlboroughs took too large a share of the Queen’s income. Their enemies would find some means of cutting down Anne’s allowance if that were spread about.

With great self-restraint Sarah declined her dear friend’s generous offer. But it was very satisfactory, as she explained to dear Marl. A Garter for him; fresh posts for herself; an added income; and most of all—power!

It was Sarah’s prerogative to bestow posts and that was one of the most profitable businesses in the country.

“Her Majesty will allow no places to be bestowed without
my
approval,” was her very proud boast.

She was indeed Queen Sarah.

When Anne made her first visit to Parliament as Queen it was Lady Marlborough who rode beside her; and when she entered the House, Prince George was on one side, Sarah on the other, and Marlborough himself carried the Sword of State before her.

A further honour had been bestowed on the family, for John Churchill had been made Captain General of the British Armies abroad.

Anne looking regal and wearing the star on her breast and her robes of velvet and ermine, was very different from the indolent careless Princess, and she seemed very conscious of her dignity. One of her greatest assets was her beautiful voice, and she spoke earnestly and eagerly of her intention to rule well; she wanted no strife through the three kingdoms.

“And as I know my heart to be entirely English, I can very well assure you that there is not anything you can expect or desire from me which I shall not be ready to do for the happiness and prosperity of England, and you shall always find me a strict and religious observer of my word.”

“God save the Queen!” was the loyal answer.

The new reign had begun, but there were many who, watching the Queen and her courtiers, asked themselves: “Whose reign? That of Queen Anne or Queen Sarah?”

The day selected
for Queen Anne’s coronation was April 23rd.

She confided to Abigail: “Hill, I dread the ceremony, for I do not see how I am going to walk to the Abbey.”

“Your Majesty will have to be carried.”

“A Queen carried to her coronation! Have you ever heard the like? Oh dear, I fear it is going to be a most tiring occasion. I wish that I could dispense with it.”

“Your Majesty will come through it, charming all who behold you.”

“But a Queen carried to her coronation, Hill!”

“The people will love you the more for your misfortune.”

“I believe you are a wise young woman. ’Tis true enough they love when they pity. And they will remember the loss of my boy.”

Anne had formed a habit of talking of her boy to Abigail; she would go over the anecdotes again and again, but Abigail always listened as though she was hearing them for the first time.

“You’re a comfort to me, Hill,” Anne said on more than one occasion, for another habit of hers was to make a phrase and repeat it again and again. This irritated Sarah, who would sometimes make an impatient gesture when these repetitious phrases were used; Abigail never gave a sign that she had heard them before. And there were occasions when Abigail suspected that Anne enjoyed those sessions with her more than she did the brisk encounters with Sarah.

So on the morning of the coronation Abigail listened once more to the stories of the dead Duke’s perfections until Sarah bustled in to stop the reminiscences.

“I was telling Hill how I wish my boy were here to see this day.”

“I doubt not it would have pleased him mightily,” said Sarah. “Now I have come to see that everything is in order. Nothing must go wrong today!”

“I am sure it could not with you, dear Mrs. Freeman, to attend to all that should be done.”

Abigail faded into the background, forgotten.

“Ah, yes,” mused Anne, “if only my boy were here.…”

“I can tell you, Mrs. Morley, I am not so pleased with
my
boy.”

“My dear Mrs. Freeman, what do you mean?”

“He has a desire, mark you, to join the Army, and serve under his father.”

“A very natural desire when you consider he is Mr. Freeman’s son. And my dear Mrs. Freeman is a fighter too. I am sure if she had been born a man she would have been commanding an army.”

“Lord Blandford is sixteen years old. That is no age to become a soldier. I said that he should go from Eton to Cambridge and that is where he has gone. But he is displeased with me because of it and I can tell you
I
am displeased with him.”

“It is a pity when families quarrel.”

“Quarrel, Mrs. Morley! Do you think that I shall allow my own son to go against my wishes?”

Anne sighed. “And what does Mr. Freeman think?”

“Oh, he thinks that there is only one worthwhile profession in the world and would willingly take young John with him into service. I can tell you I put a stop to that nonsense.”

“I believe even Mr. Freeman is afraid of you.”

“Then I am the only one in the world he
is
afraid of. Of course later on it may well be that young John will join his father, but not yet.”

“How fortunate you are, Mrs. Freeman, to have children. I often think that if my boy had lived and I had been able to give him brothers and sisters I should have been a very happy woman. I would willingly give my crown in exchange for a family of boys and girls. Sometimes when I see my poorest subjects …”

“Well, well, we have to accept our lot. And now, Madam, if you are to be in time for your coronation …”

Abigail listening, marvelled at the temerity of a woman who could cut short the Queen. Yet here was Sarah taking the important posts while she, Abigail, who let the Queen talk, who always agreed with her and soothed, had to dissolve into the background as soon as Sarah appeared, and emerge again only when she could make herself useful.

It was eleven o’clock when Anne was carried in her sedan chair from St. James’s Palace to Westminster Hall.

She was deeply conscious of her state, for since she had become Queen she had thought more and more seriously of her position. She wanted to be a good Queen; she wanted her people to love her; as she had told dear George: If she looked upon the people as her children she could find some compensation for the loss of her dear boy.