Courting Her Highness (38 page)

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!”

“I speak too strongly. I crave Your Majesty’s pardon.”

“No, Mr. Harley. You speak sincerely and that is what I would wish.”

“Then have I Your Majesty’s leave to continue?”

“You have, Mr. Harley. Indeed you have.”

“Then, Madam, I say this, that if Marlborough’s son-in-law is Secretary of State, while Marlborough is Commander in chief and Godolphin, father-in-law to Marlborough’s daughter, is your Lord Treasurer, and the Duchess continues to select your ministers … then it would seem you are no longer Queen in truth. You will be a cipher to the Churchill family, Madam. And that is something it would grieve me to see; and while I serve my Queen with all my heart and soul I should not serve these … usurpers.”

There was silence in the green closet. The Queen was shaken. Harley stared down at his hands. Had he gone too far? It was all very well to attack Sunderland and Godolphin; even Marlborough. But Sarah—the Queen’s beloved friend!

He was reassured when he heard Anne’s voice, a little trembling, but with the obstinacy as strong as ever.

“I could never endure Lord Sunderland’s temper and there would never be a good relationship between us.”

Sarah was down
at Woodstock harrying John Vanbrugh, who wanted to retain part of the old Manor of Woodstock on account, he said, of its archaeological interest. Sarah, who had no feeling for archaeological interest declared that the house was to be a monument to the Duke of Marlborough’s genius and nothing else need be considered. She was unsure of the plans, too. The place was going to be vast, and although she approved of all the very best workmanship and materials going into the building, at the same time she wanted the Palace to be a residence as well as a monument.

This occupied her attention, but she had only shelved the matter of Sunderland and intended to come back to the attack later on. The Queen at the moment was intensely stubborn, but if she was denied the company of her beloved Mrs. Freeman for a while, Sarah believed that she would be ready to have it back … at any price.

Meanwhile the Queen was worried about the Prince’s asthma, and consulted Abigail.

“I’m afraid the air here is not as good for him, Hill. His wheeze was terrible last night. I could not sleep for it … and nor could my poor angel.”

Abigail suggested that a visit to Kensington might be beneficial. It was nearer London than Hampton and she was sure that the air was very good indeed there. Did the Queen remember how well the Prince had been there during their last sojourn?

“Now that you remind me, Hill, I do. We will go to Kensington.”

George was delighted. Kensington had always been one of his favourite palaces. Anne smiled to herself, remembering how as soon as William was dead George had said: “Now we haf Kensington.” And he had taken possession of the palace without much delay. It was good to see him in a place he so loved. She herself found it delightful and there was the additional interest of seeing how the gardens were progressing. She kept a hundred gardeners at work on it and the result of their labours was beginning to be obvious. The banqueting hall which she had had built was magnificent with its Corinthian pillars and niches in which were branches chandeliers. How pleasant it would be to give concerts and balls there; the public so enjoyed being admitted to the gardens.