Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II (40 page)

“It would have been preferable to this.”

“I believe so.”

“Alas, it is too late.” There was almost a question in the remark.

“Some of the old King’s friends are still in touch with him.”

Marlborough’s cool brain was rapidly weighing up the possibilities. Men like Godolphin were in this. Then it had a good chance of success.

“I have often felt contrite,” he said, “because of the way I acted.”

“James would be ready to forgive, if forgiveness were asked.”

They were silent for a while. Godolphin was waiting for Marlborough to speak and when he did he said what he expected him to.

The Marlboroughs’ policy
had always been that where they went, the Princess Anne must follow, for their fortunes were inextricably bound up with hers.

Marlborough was writing to James, asking forgiveness for the part he had played, hinting that he would be ready to bring down the regime he had helped put up, assuring James that he would persuade his daughter Anne that she had been an undutiful daughter.

The task of persuading was, of course, Sarah’s, and Sarah accomplished it with speed. When she had a definite project Sarah was happy and this was not a plan to bring back James, but merely to depose William and Mary. They wanted no Catholic monarch; therefore with the Dutchman out of the way, and his wife with him, for she would not reign without him, it would be Anne’s turn.

When Sarah came to her mistress’s apartments the cards were laid out. Sarah sat impatiently drumming her fingers on the table.

She had already spoken to Anne and she was sure the Princess was now ready. She hated William; she disliked Mary; and she was ready to wish she had been a better daughter. Once she had put her intentions in writing, the matter would be sealed.

Cards! thought Sarah impatiently. What a preoccupation when there was life to be lived! Not that Sarah did not enjoy a game of cards. They were her favorite recreation, for she had never had much patience with books. “Prithee do not talk to me of books,” was a favorite remark of hers. “I know only men and cards.” It had not occurred to her that had she looked into books she might have learned some invaluable lessons; she might have been able to see herself in relationship to others; but Sarah could not do this—it was her great fault. She could only see herself as a giant in a world of pygmies, and, as John often feared, this could be her downfall.

She played the game with a careless abandon which was not lost on Lady Fitzharding, who had come to know Sarah very well. When she played like that, her mind was on other things and it was clear that she wanted to be alone with the Princess Anne.

Sarah lost heavily and made no accusations against the others, which was unusual; and very soon she had contrived to be alone with Anne.

It was on such occasions that Barbara made sure that she was aware of what went on between Anne and Sarah. She owed that to Elizabeth.

“Oh, those tiresome women!” cried Sarah in her resonant voice. “I thought the game would never end.”

“It was a good game, and you, my dear Mrs. Freeman, played very badly.”

“I know. My mind was on more important matters.”

“Oh?” said Anne, her eyes shining. “Do explain.”

“There is news from your father. He is delighted that you are with those who are ready to show him friendship.”

“My poor father. Do you know, Mrs. Freeman, I have been haunted ever since the morning of the Coronation. That letter! To be cursed by one’s father. And all the babies I have lost. And my little Gloucester … sometimes my heart almost fails me when I look at him. He is such a clever little boy, so alert, so brilliant … oh, but dear Mrs. Freeman, so frail.”

“I know, I know. If you had your father’s forgiveness everything would be better, for it is not a good thing that there should be enmity between a father and daughter.”

“What can I do, Mrs. Freeman?”

“Well, I believe that if you were to write a letter to him and tell him how sorry you are, he would be ready and willing to forget the past and be friends again.”

“How I wish that could be.”

“We will write that letter and see what happens. It can do no harm. Now … pen and paper and to work.”

Sarah bustled about the apartment, laid out writing materials, and helped Anne to the table.

“Now … what do you think? Something like this. ‘I have been very desirous of some safe opportunity to make you a sincere and humble offer of my duty and submission to you; and to beg you will be assured that I am both truly concerned for the misfortune of your condition and sensible, as I ought to be, of my own unhappiness …’ ”

“That is wonderful.”

“Well write that down.”

Anne obeyed.

Sarah went on: “ ‘As to what you may think I have contributed to it, if wishes could recall what is past, I had long since redeemed my fault …’ ”

Sarah went on dictating; Anne went on writing; and in the anteroom Barbara Fitzharding’s ear was pressed against the keyhole that she might not miss a word.

Elizabeth Villiers made
William lie on her bed and rest, for she said that when he came to her he must, for a short time, forget his troubles.

She smiled down at him and he regarded her with affection—the face which so many failed to appreciate, that fascinating cast in the eyes which had endeared her to him in the first place, and the clear alert mind which she devoted to his interests. He was blessed in his mistress as he was with his male friends. He was a man who was loved by few, but those few gave him wholehearted devotion.

Wife, mistress, and friend. He could rely on them all—though perhaps not his wife because, for all that she was the meekest of the three, her exalted position and the power she could wield if she wished meant that he could never be completely sure of her.

“My sister reports disturbing news from the Cockpit,” she said. “Anne is writing to her father.”

William raised himself on his elbow and stared at her.

“It is so. No suggestions … yet. A little contrition; the dutiful daughter is haunted by the wrong she has done her father and asks his forgiveness.”

William was silent; then he said. “The Marlborough woman.”

Elizabeth nodded. “She dictates all.”

“Marlborough will be aware of it.”

“I am sure of it,” said Elizabeth. “That woman continually abuses you, but I do not think she would take this step without Marlborough’s being aware of it.”

“He’s a good soldier but his ambitions run ahead of his achievement,” said William. “I wonder how far this has gone.”

“I think that James is too tired for action and the French have refused him the army which he needs to invade. The Marlboroughs are intent on mischief. They don’t want James back.”

“No,” said William, “they want Anne on the throne so that the Churchills can rule the country. Anne, being the most foolish of women, does not see this.”

“Barbara declares that it is quite sickening to listen to them. Dear Mrs. Freeman and poor silly Mrs. Morley! Anne looks upon it all as a girlish game, but Sarah is no girl. She’s the most ambitious woman at Court—and since she is married to the most ambitious man, they are a pair to be watched.”

“He could be taken up for treason.”

“He could be,” admitted Elizabeth, “but I am sure you would consider that unwise at this stage.”

“At this stage,” agreed William. “I think, though, that we could well dispense with their services. I can bring a charge against Marlborough. He has been talking seditiously in the Army, complaining that foreigners are favored. He is very fond of money and having little is always seeking ways of finding it. On account of his position in the Army he has posts to dispose of. He could be dismissed for bribery and extortion.”

Elizabeth nodded slowly and leaning toward William kissed him.

He took her wrist and said: “It is a pleasure to me to talk of these matters with you. There are times when a woman’s wit is … agreeable.”

Elizabeth was well pleased. The rivalry between herself and Bentinck was never forgotten. Bentinck was devoted; but his mind worked along similar lines to William’s; the viewpoint of a woman was invaluable, particularly when that woman was his devoted mistress.

He went from
Elizabeth to the Queen’s apartments. Her women disappeared as he entered. Mary came to him, arms outstretched, delighted, as always, when he sought her out.

“I wish to speak to you,” he told her. “The matter is urgent and concerns your sister.”

“Oh, dear William, I trust Anne has not been causing you anxiety again.”

“It is what we must expect. She is a constant anxiety.”

“What now, William?”

“She is writing to your father.”

“No!”

He looked at her with mild contempt. How different from Elizabeth! Elizabeth made it her business to have a spy established in the Cockpit who could report to him, yet Mary, who had so much more power and opportunity, had failed to do this.

“At the moment it is merely, ‘Please forgive me.’ But that is of course a preliminary. You will know of course who is at the bottom of this.”

“Not that odious woman!”

“Who else?”

“I loathe her. The airs! Really, my sister is a fool. How can she so far forget her royalty as to grovel at the feet of that woman.”

Mary felt a twinge of conscience. She had remembered suddenly the humble letters she used to write to Frances Apsley. Anne was no more humble to Sarah Churchill. She could well understand Anne’s devotion to Sarah as she had once entertained a similar feeling toward Frances. Perhaps Frances wondered now why she was never invited to see the Queen. Mary was determined not to become enslaved to a woman as Anne was to Sarah Churchill.

“These Churchills seem to have some unnatural power over her. We have to be rid of them. You must start. Try to persuade your sister to get rid of the woman.”

“But William, she never will.”

“You must talk to her. I want them out of Court.”

“You have only to order them to go.”

He looked at her in exasperation. How obtuse she could be! One of the more dangerous occupations of the Marlboroughs in recent weeks had been to increase the popularity of Anne. She had been appearing in public, smiling at the people, distributing alms, visiting the playhouse, laughing when the people laughed, being one of them.

In any case, of all the royal family she was the favorite; she was the mother of the heir to the throne and when she appeared with him in public, playing the fond mother to perfection—not that she had to act in that role; for she always had been devoted to her children—the people applauded her. They knew of her quarrels with her sister and brother-in-law and they were ready to believe the worst of Dutch William.

“Anne will refuse. Don’t you see that this time we cannot afford to upset Anne. She is too popular. We have to be wary. You must speak to Anne and try to make her see what harm this woman is doing. I will deal with Marlborough if you will deal with his wife.”

“I will do my best of course, William, but …”

“Do it then … and without delay.”