Courting Her Highness (45 page)

“I know that Abigail Hill spends some two hours every day with the Queen in the green closet. The Prince is there, but he sleeps most of the time and often Hill is alone with the Queen.”

“Talking to the Queen?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Talking to the Queen! Advising her not to take Mrs. Vain but a woman of her choice instead—the Danvers girl in this instance. Not that Hill was interested in the Danvers girl. Her only object would be to keep out Sarah’s choice.

“She plays the harpsichord to Her Majesty, does the poulticing and massaging. Often I have seen her sitting on the stool at Her Majesty’s feet.
If she is not there Her Majesty sends for her. I have heard them laughing and the … mimicry.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed. Ridiculing her. Ridiculing the Duke! Oh, this was an enemy indeed. But she would go in and smite her. Soon no one at Court would dare mention the name of Masham!

“And then, of course, Your Grace, there is her cousin. She is very friendly with him and he makes a great fuss of her.”

“Her cousin?”

“Mr. Harley, Your Grace.”

Sarah’s heart began to beat faster. In a word or two Danvers had put a very different colour on the entire affair.

“Very affectionate, they are. He calls her his dear coz, and afternoon on afternoon she’ll let him in to the green closet and they’ll be there together … the Queen, Mr. Harley, Abigail Hill … and the Prince, but he sleeps through most of it.”

“Why did you not tell me of this before?”

“I tried to tell Your Grace … but Your Grace didn’t seem to want to listen.”

“Harley with the Queen in the green closet and you think I don’t want to hear! You’re mad, Danvers. You’re in your dotage. What else?”

“Mr. St. John sometimes comes with Mr. Harley, Your Grace. They are all very friendly with Hill.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know, Your Grace … for a very long time I think.”

The Duchess rose and left. Rarely in her life had she been so shaken. What she had believed to be the social
gaffe
of an illbred chambermaid was turning out to be a major court intrigue.

Sarah was bewildered
. For the first time in her life she did not know how to act. John was abroad. Godolphin was useless; Sunderland and she had never been in tune. What she had to discover was how far had Abigail Hill supplanted her in the Queen’s affections.

She knew Anne depended on her friendships with women. It had always been so from her childhood; and Mary, her sister, had been the
same, until she had married William. Anne had selected Sarah as the adored one, but Sarah had disliked the cloying affection bestowed upon her; she had turned from it in disgust—and had, she knew, on occasions betrayed her feelings. But for the fact that Anne was Queen she would never have become involved in such a relationship. It was against her nature; and the older she grew the more repulsive was Anne to her. But she needed Anne’s favour; she needed to rule the woman if she were going to bring that fame and fortune to her family which she had decided they must have.

She had been occupied outside the Court; it was true that she had avoided the Queen; and insidiously, while she neglected Anne, that creature, that insect, that little-better-than-a-servant had been creeping in with her lotions and poultices, her Purcell and her mimicry, her flattery and her solicitude.

“It makes me sick!” cried Sarah.

But she knew that she had to do all in her power to end such a situation. How she wished that dear Marl was at home. With his cool reasoning he would know how to act. There were times when she had upbraided him for his caution. But she had need of that caution now.

What should she do next? It was no use seeing that old parrot who was in full cry with her “I have bid Masham tell you and she would not.” That was going to be her answer to everything.

So she must see Abigail again, and if necessary shake the truth out of the creature.

Sarah went down to Woodstock. There at least was the evidence of the respect in which the Marlboroughs were held. Blenheim was going to be one of the biggest palaces in the country, and it was built for the Marlboroughs in honour of the Duke’s great victory.

That was balm; but she could not get on with Vanbrugh and wished his plans had never been accepted. He was arrogant. One would have thought the house was being built for him.

It was soothing to some extent to harangue Vanbrugh—but little use in the present situation.

Sarah could never resist the pen. It soothed her always to pour out her anger in words and writing them was almost as comforting as speaking them.

She wrote to the Queen, reproaching her for her duplicity. Why, why,
why had she kept her in the dark about the Masham marriage? What could have been the point? Mrs. Freeman who had always had such concern for Mrs. Morley was astonished that Mrs. Morley could have treated her so.

Anne wrote back:

The tone of that letter, so different from those which Sarah was accustomed to receive from her “unfortunate and faithful Morley” should have warned Sarah, but Sarah had never heeded warnings.

As she said, she wanted plain answers to plain questions and she wanted to know how deep was this friendship between Abigail and Anne, whether Abigail had replaced her in the Queen’s affections, and what had happened at those meetings in the green closet between the Queen, Harley, St. John and Abigail Hill.

She wrote to Abigail demanding a meeting as soon as she returned to London from Woodstock; but when she did come back Abigail kept out of her way and Sarah’s fury rose.

She imagined that the “chambermaid” as she referred to her, was being deliberately insolent, particularly when Abigail called on her at a time when she would be aware that she would not be at home.

“If that chambermaid should call again,” shouted Sarah, “I am not at home.”

But Sarah knew that if she could speak with Abigail she would be more likely to get the truth of the situation, and when Abigail wrote a meek little note asking for an interview she granted it.

So carefully worded was that note that Sarah was sure Harley had dictated it. The entire situation was becoming horribly clear. Harley and St. John were the enemies of the Churchills. They always had been, in spite of mealymouthed Harley’s sycophantic admiration for the Duke. Those two had put their heads together to destroy the Churchill faction.
She had never liked them. She had told John a hundred times. John had trusted Harley; so had Godolphin. She was the only one with insight into character, and she had known those two were not to be trusted. And all the time they had been in secret conference with the Queen—let in by that snake Abigail Hill, whom she herself had put into the position, to betray them!

They faced each other in Abigail’s apartment.

Oh yes, thought Sarah, she has changed. Not so demure now. The sly creature. Harley has groomed her. She is very sure of herself.

She was dignified, serene and outwardly gracious, knowing her place—Masham now instead of Hill. The Queen’s favourite but still her chambermaid in the presence of the great Duchess of Marlborough.

“So at last I see you!” said Sarah. “I will tell you this that I am astonished by your conduct.”

“I am grieved,” replied Abigail demurely, “and not a little astonished that Your Grace should have found my humble marriage of such concern.”

“Not your marriage—the secrecy that attended it. But let us have the plain truth. The Queen has changed towards me.”

“Your Grace has been much absent. You have so much with which to occupy your time. And added to all else, the building at Woodstock.”

“There is no need to tell me what I do. I know far better than you. I say this—that the Queen has changed towards me because of you, Masham.”

Abigail’s green eyes were very faintly insolent. “Surely that is impossible, Your Grace. A humble chambermaid could not affect the friendship between Her Majesty and the Duchess of Marlborough.”

“Through sly and secret management, yes.”

“Your Grace gives me credit for a diplomacy which is surely beyond my powers.”

“I am just discovering what your powers are. You have been frequently with Her Majesty in private.…”

“As her chambermaid.”

“Don’t evade the truth. You have been with Her Majesty as … a friend. Don’t deny it. Do you think I don’t know
her
. You have slipped in like the serpent in Eden.”

Abigail smiled.

“Take that smirk off your face, woman. You have wormed your way
into the Queen’s favour; and while you have been doing this you have taken every measure possible to hide it. And to hide it from
me
. I have been a friend to her for years … and you have changed this.”

“I have no power to direct the Queen’s affection.”

“You … snake! Anyone who can behave as you have done is proved to have a very bad purpose at bottom.”

“I do not think Your Grace should be unduly alarmed.”

“
You
do not think!”

“I know that the Queen has loved you in the past and that she will always be kind to you.”

Sarah could scarcely believe she had heard correctly. This insolence was intolerable. This chambermaid, this hanger-on, this ex-servant girl whom she had taken from a broom was now promising her the Queen’s kindness! She was without words for a few seconds. It was unbelievable. Moreover, it was quite alarming, for Abigail was not the woman to speak such words unless she had the authority to back them.

Sarah felt sick with rage and fear.

What had happened? Could it really be that she had lost the Queen’s favour … lost it to a chambermaid!

“You … wicked creature!” she cried as her powers of speech returned to her and the words came rushing out. “You … snake and serpent … you
insect
. How dare you smile!”

“There is such a disparity between an insect and a reptile, Your Grace.”

“Oh, the insolence! The ingratitude. Would to God I had never taken you from your broom.”

“It was never my duty to sweep floors, Your Grace.”

“Don’t answer me, you
slut
! I took you from a broom. I brought you to my house where I fed you and clothed you …”

“As an unpaid servant, Your Grace.”

“The wicked ingratitude! I brought you to Court.”

“That I might take over duties which you found distasteful.”

“And you dare … attempt to usurp my place!”

Abigail was faintly alarmed. The Queen had by no means escaped from the spell of this woman. It was possible that there would be a reconciliation. She must not allow the brief triumph of the moment to tempt her to act foolishly. Mr. Harley would never forgive her if she did.

She became demure again. “Your Grace, I would not attempt the impossible.”

“You attempted to turn the Queen against the great Duke, against myself and Lord Godolphin. Her attitude has changed towards us and it is due to you.”

“Your Grace, I do not discuss business with Her Majesty. I only bring to her petitions with which Your Grace does not wish to trouble herself.”

Sarah wanted to shout: “And Harley! And St. John! What of them!” But she was remembering John’s constant warnings of caution. At the moment it would be unwise to bring in the names of these men. No, she must work in secret, until she found out how deep was the rot.

When she thought of Anne she almost laughed. Of course she would win her way back into the old fool’s affections. Had she not always been eager to be friends? There was the Sunderland affair, the Vain affair. Indications which should have been a warning. Harley had told Abigail Hill that they must undermine the Marlboroughs and this was the result.

Thank God she knew the truth now. But she must be cautious. She must remember that the creature who sat facing her with her green eyes cast down and her pale crafty face was not the insignificant dependant she had thought her. She was a sly and scheming woman who had won the regard of the Queen.

Sarah was unusually silent; and at last Abigail rose, saying that she had taken up too much of Her Grace’s valuable time and must intrude no longer.

She curtsied with the greatest respect; and with lowered eyes said: “I trust Your Grace will permit me to call now and then to enquire for your health.”

Sarah nodded her assent; and Abigail was gone.

Sarah remained seated.

Then she began to laugh. “It is not possible,” she said aloud. “It is simply not possible.”