Courting Her Highness

AFTER OUDENARDE

Lord Godolphin went down to Holywell House to make plans with the Marlboroughs.

The Duke, realizing that Sarah had herself been largely responsible for her own unpopularity with the Queen, but not daring to tell her so, was torn between his schemes for further conquests abroad and those for ending this intolerable situation at Court.

Godolphin, old, tired and having little love for his task, needed guidance and the Queen’s recent appointment of two new Bishops to Exeter and to Chester had aroused his suspicion.

With Sarah they walked in the gardens, for she said, after the perfidy of that chambermaid she trusted no one—least of all her servants.

It was Sarah who talked. “Blackhall to Exeter and Dawes to Chester!” she cried. “That will mean two more Tory votes in the Lords. We can’t afford it. And you know why Anne has appointed them, don’t you? Because Masham has let Harley into the green closet and he has brought her round to his view that they are the men for the jobs. I tell you this, Marl, and you, Sidney … we cannot stand idle any longer.”

“She is as usual right,” said the Duke, slipping his arm through that of his wife. “We have to be rid of Harley.”

“But how?” asked Godolphin.

Sarah looked at the Lord Treasurer’s heavy eyes and pockmarked skin. A poor ally, she thought, lacking adventure. But what pleasure it gave her to turn from him to dearest Marl, who seemed to grow more handsome year by year and whose genius would win this battle for them as it had won Blenheim and Ramillies.

“You are right, Marl,” she said. “We have to be rid of Harley.”

“How?” repeated Godolphin.

“He must be asked to resign,” said the Duke.

“Ha!” laughed Sarah. “And you think this creeper into green closets, this friend of our dirty little chambermaid will do that?”

“I think,” the Duke replied, “that he will have to be forced to do it.”

“How?”

“If Sidney and I refuse to serve with him, he will have to go.”

“And you will do that?”

“We will feel our way first.”

“Trust you for that!” laughed Sarah affectionately.

“In the old days,” said Marlborough sadly, “it would have been easy for you to have explained to the Queen.”

“And now alas she won’t listen to any but that dirty chambermaid.”

“Who,” put in Godolphin, “will fight for Harley!”

“Marl,” said Sarah, “you go and see her. She is fond of you, and if she has any gratitude she should not be able to refuse you anything.”

It was agreed that Marlborough should see the Queen.

The Queen sat back in her chair exhausted, and sent for Masham.

“Your Majesty is very tired,” said Abigail anxiously. “I fear the Duke has wearied you.”

“So tired, Masham. Far more so than when I go hunting the stag, I can assure you.”

Abigail said that she was terrified every time the Queen hunted in the high wheeled chair which was drawn by the fastest horse in her stables. “I sit and tremble until Your Majesty returns. You are quite intrepid, Madam.”

Anne pushed aside Abigail’s fears. “I have hunted since I was a child, Masham; and my one-horse chaise is excellent for me nowadays.”

“And now Your Majesty is as tired as after the hunt.”

“More so, Masham, more so.”

“Your visitor proved tiresome?”

“I’m afraid so, Hill. The Duke is such a charming man and I have always been so fond of him; and of course I never forget his brilliance in battle. But … I cannot give way in everything however brilliant a commander he is, can I?”

“I am sure Your Majesty should never give way. It is others who should give way to you.”

“I have grown so fond of dear Mr. Harley. Of course the Duke does not like him. He says that he does not care to serve in a ministry which contains Mr. Harley.”

“I see,” said Abigail.

“Yes, that is what he wants. And Godolphin is with him. It would not grieve me greatly to do without Godolphin, but I do not see what our armies would do without the Duke.”

Abigail was silent.

“Oh dear,” went on the Queen. “There seems to be nothing but quarrels. Make me some tea. I feel I need a little sustenance.”

Abigail made the tea and planned at the same time as to how she could get the news to Harley that Marlborough and Godolphin were attempting to oust him from his post.

When she returned with the tea she sat on the stool at the Queen’s feet.

“That’s better,” said Anne. “Just the right amount of sugar. Of course I told the Duke that I could not do without Mr. Harley. I have come to depend upon him. I shall summon a meeting of Council; then they will have to attend. Perhaps then they will put their complaints of Mr. Harley to his face.”

“But Your Majesty will not ask him to resign?”

“Certainly I shall not,” said the Queen.

Abigail made her way to Albemarle Street; she was let in without question and taken up to Harley’s private study.

He took both her hands and kissed her on the forehead; it was the chaste greeting he often bestowed upon her.

“Marlborough has been to see the Queen.”

He nodded. “I know he is determined to ruin me.”

“He hasn’t a chance. The Queen is firmly behind you.”

“A position, my dear coz, in which you have helped to place her.”

“She won’t allow you to resign.”

“I am wondering if it mightn’t be a necessity.”

“A necessity!” Abigail was aghast.

“My dear cousin, you are so concerned?”

“But everything we have worked for …”

“Will not be lost. Depend upon it, in the long run we will drive Marlborough and his virago of a Duchess out of office. But the time is not yet.”

“Something has happened?”

He nodded.

“Something bad … for us?”

He nodded again.

She, who was habitually so calm, stamped her foot in sudden anger.

“They have been clever, our enemies,” he said. “Perhaps we underestimated them. We have been congratulating ourselves on the follies of Sarah, but her friends are strong and ingenious.”

“Tell me,” she said impatiently.

“They have arrested a clerk in my office.”

“What has this to do with us?”

“A great deal. A communication he sent to Chamillart was opened in Holland.”

“Who is Chamillart?”

“The French Secretary of State.”

“Good God!” cried Abigail.

“You may well exclaim. He will be tried for High Treason.”

“And you?”

“You can guess what our enemies are saying, can you not?”

“That you are guilty of … treason?”

“Well, they couldn’t have hoped for better luck, could they?”

“But you …”

“I knew nothing of it, but the clerk was in my office. It is information which passes through my hands which has been discovered on its way to the enemy. You can imagine that Sarah is choking with laughter over this. It may not be only my office that I may have to give up, but my head.”

Abigail was pale.

“It won’t come to this.”

“Powerful people are doing all they know to make it.”

“We will defeat them.”

“How fierce you are, cousin!”

“But, this must not be. Everything we have worked for …”

He came close to her and smiled his enigmatic smile which never failed to excite her.

“You are not disturbed,” she asked. “You seem as though you do not care.”

“But you do, cousin,” he said smiling. “Odd, is it not … that you should be more concerned than I?”

Marlborough and Godolphin had absented themselves from the Council meeting, and although Harley attempted to open it he was not allowed to do so for the Duke of Somerset pointed out that there could not be such a meeting if both the Lord Treasurer and the Commander in Chief were absent. The Queen was angry, for she had meant to show Marlborough and Godolphin that she could do very well without them.

It was an anxious day for Abigail when it was proved that William Gregg, the clerk in Harley’s employ, had attempted to sell information to France and that he had received a hundred guineas for his pains.

The Whig writers were busy inflaming the people against Harley. Harley was the traitor, they said; he was hiding behind Gregg; and the Marlborough Junta waited eagerly for Gregg to betray his master.

In the green closet Abigail brought Harley to the Queen.

“My dear friend,” cried Anne, with tears in her eyes, “I know full well what your enemies are trying to do to you. I’ll not allow it. You know that I trust you.”

“Your Majesty’s kindness overwhelms me,” Harley told her. “If I possess that, I care for naught else.”

“Such trouble!” sighed the Queen. “And at such a time!”

She glanced towards the Prince who was propped up in his chair and it was clear that his breathing was more painful than usual.

“Masham has been with me all night,” said the Queen. “We have had to be in constant attention upon my poor angel. He does not hear what we say. I fear he is very bad indeed. And all this trouble …”

“Madam,” said Harley, “I shall offer my resignation. I believe that is the way at this time to save you trouble.”

“Mr. Harley, I could not accept it.”

“Madam, you need to give your attention to His Highness. This is not the time to be plagued by the squabbles of your ministers.”

“I don’t know what I should do without you, my dear friend.”

“I do not suggest that Your Majesty should do without my advice. It is yours when you wish it. I live but to serve you, Madam. My cousin, your Majesty’s most faithful servant, will bring me to you as before. You shall discuss your desires with me and if you think my opinion of value I shall continue to give it. Madam, it will make no difference. I shall sever myself from your Government but I shall continue to serve you with all my power.”

“You mean that you will come as before? You will advise me … and at the same time put a stop to this dreadful squabbling.”

“I shall leave you Marlborough and Godolphin, Madam. And you will not lose my services … for as long as you need them.”

“I think we had better call Masham. Masham, my dear, I think you should call the Prince’s doctors.”

George was a little better the next day and Anne summoned Marlborough to tell him that Harley had resigned.

The Marlborough faction was delighted, but the Duke was the first to wonder whether the victory had been so complete. Harley’s friends, St. John, Sir Simon Harcourt and Sir Thomas Mansell resigned with him and their places were taken by Whigs.

The topic of the moment was the resignation of Harley and the Gregg affair, and Harley was warned not to be seen in the streets for fear he should be attacked. Sarah congratulated herself that this little rebellion would soon be over; and the presumptuous little chambermaid and her master, as she called Harley, banished; Harley to oblivion—the hell of all ambitious politicians—and Abigail back to her broom.

The Queen was deeply distressed, but all other emotions were swamped by her growing anxieties for her husband. There was no disguising the fact that he was nearing the end.

She and Abigail suffered constantly disturbed nights. Anne was sleeping very lightly and as soon as she heard the Prince begin to fight for his breath she would call to Abigail and together they would hold him up while Samuel ran for one of the doctors. Arbuthnot said that the Prince continued to live only because of the devoted attention of the Queen and Mrs. Masham.

Often when the Prince was fighting his grim battles for life the eyes of the two women would meet and Anne’s would convey her gratitude and love, Abigail’s her undying devotion.

Both knew that only death could sever a friendship like theirs and that these nocturnal duties put a closer bond between them than Sarah with all her bombastic beauty ever could.

Abigail was young and the interrupted nights did not seem to affect her, but the Queen looked very tired and the ophthalmic disease which had troubled her since she was a child grew worse.

And in addition there was this terrible Gregg affair which was so exciting the people.

One night, sipping the brandy Abigail had brought while she sat up in bed with George, at last breathing more easily and sleeping beside her, Anne said: “It is terrible to witness such suffering, Masham, particularly in a loved one … I have been thinking of that poor man Gregg.”

“Mr. Harley had nothing to do with it, Your Majesty,” said Abigail speaking more fiercely than usual.

“I know. I know, and poor man, he may be guilty and doubtless he was very poor and did this terrible thing for that reason. But now he is in prison and they say he is ill unto death.”

“If he died, Madam, it would save the executioner his trouble.”

“It is so,” sighed the Queen. “He is a traitor and I, as the Queen, must sentence him to death. It grieves me, Masham.”

“But the man is evil. He has worked against Your Majesty. He has worked against Mr. Harley … and delivered him to his enemies.”

“But he is lying in a wretched prison, hungry and ill. And he knows the executioner is waiting for him. He is one of my subjects and I told you once how I felt as a mother to all my subjects … even to those who would harm me. I shall send Arbuthnot to him tomorrow—and with him some comfort from the kitchens.”

“The goodness of Your Majesty never ceases to amaze me,” said Abigail; and she was thinking that when the Marlboroughs knew that the Queen had sent comforts to Gregg, they would believe that Anne was firmly on the side of Harley against them … which would be to the good.

When Arbuthnot visited the prisoner, Gregg, Harley’s enemies set up a howl of protest. Godolphin came to the Queen who told him in her most regal manner that it was her custom in every case when a man was under sentence of death to see that his last days on Earth were made as comfortable as possible. It was true that there had been no noise and shouting about other cases, but it was a fact that she never allowed any such prisoner to go without these attentions.

This had to be accepted; and when William Gregg was executed he gave a letter to a fellow clerk in which he exonerated his master, Robert Harley, from all complicity in treason.

The victory seemed less complete. Marlborough was well aware that nothing was achieved without sacrifice. They had rid the Ministry of Harley, but Godolphin, whose official work he had shared, found himself at a loss without him. Godolphin realized more than ever how old he was growing, how feeble he was becoming, and that his health was beginning to fail. Marlborough was the only man whom he could really trust and Marlborough was a soldier rather than a politician.

The people were becoming uneasy for they did not care to see the supreme power of the Whigs. The Whigs were the warmongers, they said. And what benefits, they asked, did Marlborough’s war bring to them … apart from the glory of victory?

Meanwhile Harley was preparing to wait. He was now the hope of the Tories; and his dear cousin Abigail Masham saw that he was conducted very frequently into the Queen’s intimate circle.

Now that Harley was out of office Sarah’s great desire was to have Abigail banished. The thought of Abigail obsessed her; she could not rid her mind of that whey-faced creature as she called her; she gave up great energy into thinking up new names for her; and all the time she was reviling Abigail she was asking herself how she could have been such a fool as to allow the woman to rise to her present position.

There was one thing Sarah could not bear to be—that was made a fool of—and everywhere people were discussing her fall and the rise of Abigail Masham.

She harangued the Duke, Godolphin, Sunderland and members of the Ministry outside her family. Were they going to allow this chambermaid to hold her position with the Queen? she demanded; and an attempt was even made to bring a case against Abigail, but it failed. The Members of the Government could not but see that they were being rather ridiculous in devoting their time to the activities of a chambermaid.

Moreover, Anne could be regal, and when she had made up her mind, adamant. She had let them banish Harley, but that was only because he himself had convinced her that it would be better for him to go … temporarily. Never would she give up Abigail. How could she do without her when George was as ill as he was. Abigail was not only her personal attendant; she was the Prince’s nurse. Dr. Arbuthnot had said that there could not have been a better in the kingdom. She was her mistress’s companion, confidante and comforter in this terrible time.

But though the attack against Abigail might be called off by Sarah’s friends in the Ministry, Sarah herself would continue to fight.

She still held her posts with the Queen, and as she declared that while that chamberwoman was with the Queen she could not be, she went to the Queen to tell her so.

Anne received her with a show of affection which deceived Sarah although the Duke had often warned his wife that she underestimated the Queen, who had an extraordinary gift for concealing her feelings, and as she had a great dislike for unpleasant scenes went to great lengths to avoid them. Sarah, however, had never had time to study the idiosyncrasies of others; she saw everyone else in her own image—smaller, pale copies of herself; so even after all these years with Anne, she failed to detect the change in the Queen’s manner towards her.

“It would seem,” she said grimly, “that Mrs. Morley is pleased to see me.”

“Mrs. Freeman has been told many times that I am always pleased to see her.”

“Mrs. Morley might see more of Mrs. Freeman if these rooms were not contaminated by the presence of a certain chambermaid.”

“Contaminated?” answered Anne. “I was not aware of it.”

“Masham is here night and day.”

“Such a good nurse! Dr. Arbuthnot says he has never seen a better. I do not know what we should do without Masham. I was saying so to George only this morning. I am very anxious about him.”

“You are looking exhausted. You should allow me to arrange for nurses to be in constant attendance.”

“I am sure if Mrs. Freeman were in my position she would never allow anyone else to nurse Mr. Freeman. No. Mr. Morley would be most unhappy if I were not present. He has said so. In the midst of one of his fearful attacks he sees me and a smile comes over his dear face, and he says: ‘My Anna … my angel … you are there.’ It is most affecting.”

“Don’t weep. It’ll make your eyes worse.”

“Sometimes I think I am suffering for past sins.”

Oh dear, thought Sarah, now we shall have to go through that unless I’m careful.

“Nonsense, Mrs. Morley. You have led a good life. The past is done with.”

“I often think of that brother of mine over the water.”

“The King of France does not flaunt his acceptance of the King of England so much since Mr. Freeman gave him something else to think about.”

“Dear Mr. Freeman! What should we do without him?”

“Well, you could so easily lose his services, and came near to it … not so long ago.”

“Oh, these squabbles!”

“Squabbles, Mrs. Morley? You call the concern of your ministers for the country’s good, squabbles? In fact, Mrs. Morley, the Court has changed so much and Mrs. Morley herself has changed so much that I am wondering whether my presence is needed here any longer.”

“But of course I shall always need you here.”

“Surely Masham is sufficient for Your Majesty?”

“Masham does very well, but I should be sad to lose my dearest Mrs. Freeman.”

“But for the presence of Masham, Mrs. Freeman would be in constant attendance on Mrs. Morley.”

The Queen said: “Dr. Arbuthnot was saying Masham is the best nurse in the kingdom.”

So that was the answer, thought Sarah. Very well. She chooses Masham.

“I have daughters all married into the most noble families. I would take it as a favour if they might share between them the posts Mrs. Morley was once so happy to bestow on me.”

The Queen was silent and Sarah went on, “You would have three to serve you where you once had one and I would see that you had nothing of which to complain.”

The Queen still said nothing and Sarah asked harshly: “Well, what has Mrs. Morley to say? Do not tell Mrs. Freeman that you regret parting with her. You have shown so clearly that you prefer Masham.”

“I cannot agree to this suggestion,” said the Queen.

“Mrs. Morley does not think that my children would serve her well?”

“I am sure that being Mrs. Freeman’s children they would perform their duties most excellently. But it is inconceivable that Mrs. Freeman and Mrs. Morley should be parted while they live.”

Sarah was exultant. Here was a return to the old standing. The Queen was merely temporarily piqued. All right. Sarah would soon be back.

“Mrs. Morley is gracious to her poor Freeman. Now as to Mrs. Masham …”

“Dr. Arbuthnot says she is the best nurse in the kingdom.”

So there was nothing to be done in that quarter while the Prince lived; but Sarah was not going to let Anne think that she merely had to beckon Sarah Churchill and she would come hurrying back.

Sarah settled down to make arrangements about the town house she intended to have. She had had her eyes on it for some time when it had been occupied by Catherine of Braganza. It was on the south side of Pall Mall and King Charles II had planted an acorn in its gardens, and this acorn came from the oak tree which had hidden him at Boscobel.

Sarah planned to build in place of that old house a much grander one which should be her family’s town residence; she had decided it should be called Marlborough House.

Now she reminded Anne of an old promise to give her this house; and Anne, happy to turn the conversation away from Mrs. Masham and the replacement of Sarah by her daughters, agreed that the site should be Sarah’s.

Sarah emerged triumphant from that interview; and thoughout the Court it was said that not only had Godolphin and Marlborough scored over Harley, but Sarah would soon be putting Mrs. Masham in her place.

Anne was disturbed. There was alarming news. The King of France having been so often defeated by Marlborough in Europe was seeking to attack the Queen of England in a way most calculated to alarm her.

Her ministers had informed her that her half brother, whom the French King openly called James III, King of England, was being given the aid he would need to land in Scotland where they were ready to rise in his favour and come against her.

Marlborough came in all haste to St. James’s.

How fortunate that he was in England! There was a strength about the man. A genius which she could not fail to recognize. What should I do without dear Mr. Freeman! she asked George who, poor dear angel, was too ill to give much thought to the matter.

The best of the Army was in Europe but this would be a matter for the fleet, said Marlborough. Sir George Byng was setting sail immediately to prevent the hostile force landing.

But they must be watchful, for Scotland and the Northern counties were ready to revolt.

When Marlborough left, Anne immediately summoned Abigail to bring her brandy.

“It is so alarming,” she said as she sipped gratefully. “The Prince so ill … and all this trouble!”

Abigail wiped the poor eyes which watered frequently.

“Thank you, my dear. How I wish there need not be this strife. He is my brother for all that he comes against me.”

“Your Majesty is sure of that?”

“Oh, there were rumours. Some thought at the time that he was brought into the bed by means of a warming pan … but I have heard that he is very like my dear father. So good my father was to me, Masham. And to my sister Mary. He doted on us. He was a good father … but so distressingly fond of women … like my uncle Charles. But the people were fond of him. By the way, I hear that they are not pleased because the Duchess has taken his old house near the Mall. She has had the oak cut down which he planted.”

“The people loved that oak, Madam. To them it was a symbol of royalty. The oak saved King Charles’s life and they loved it for that reason.”

“They still wear the oak apple in memory of the occasion, Masham. Yes, my uncle was much loved, but my father … alas, he had his enemies. I often think of those days and I wish … I wish with all my heart, Masham.…”

“Your Majesty must not upset yourself.”

“But there is this conflict … and now my own brother comes against me. He is but a boy. Is it not sad, Masham? I often think of all the babies I have lost and I wondered whether it was a curse on me. And now my dearest husband … There will be no hope of more children.”

Abigail did not know how to comfort the Queen; she could not speak of the possibility of a more fruitful marriage while the Prince still clung to life.

“No, I shall have no heirs of my body,” went on Anne. “And we must think of the succession. I do not like the Germans, Masham. And this boy is my father’s own son. I am sure of it.”

“But, Madam, you cannot wish that this venture of his will be victorious!”

Anne smiled at her dear friend’s horror, and took Abigail’s freckled hand in hers.

“No, my dear. He will not be successful. The Duke would never allow that. I can only hope that he will not be harmed. That is what I fear. I should like him to go quietly back to France and wait … and when I am gone …”

“Your Majesty would make him your heir?”

“I think that would please my father and that then everything would be right.”

“He would have to become a member of the Church of England, Madam.”

“Oh, yes. He would have to be that. And if he were … then I think it would be the happiest solution. Meanwhile, poor boy, he will try to take by force that which, if he would but wait in patience, I should be very happy to hand over to him.”

Abigail laid her head against the Queen’s hand.

“What is it, Masham? Your cheeks are wet.”

“I cannot bear to hear Your Majesty speak of the days when you will not be here.”

“Dear Masham! You make my life so much more bearable than it would otherwise be. But I have lost my boy. It is over now, some say, but to me it is as fresh as though it happened yesterday. Always I hoped that there would be others … but now … I am losing my dearest husband. Oh, Masham. I hope you enjoy with Samuel what I have with George.”

“It is Your Majesty’s goodness which makes everything good about you.”

“You are a dear creature. But all is not good. And now my own brother comes against me.”

“He will not succeed, Your Majesty.”

“I know it. But he comes to try to take that which I hold and which he thinks I usurped from him. It is not so, Masham. The people would never have a papist on the throne.”

“Your Majesty has always faithfully upheld the Church of England.”

“Therein I find my strength, Masham. In the Church, which assures me I did right.”

Abigail kissed the Queen’s hand and while she wept with her she told herself that she must let Harley know that the Queen was against the Hanoverian succession and was for the Stuart James.

News filtered through to the Court of what was happening to the invading forces.

As Marlborough had predicted, they had no chance against Sir George Byng, and the remnants of the invading forces were soon fleeing back to France.

There were rumours that Prince James had been captured and was a prisoner on board an English ship.

The Queen told Abigail that she was deeply disturbed because if the young man was brought to her, she would have to remember that he was her own brother and she could never find it in her heart to punish him.

The Chevalier de St. George, as James was known in France, was after all a young man in his twentieth year; it was said that he was bold and handsome. The position would be very difficult if he were brought to London for trial.

But she could trust Admiral Byng to do better than that; Anne was very pleased when the report reached her that her brother, of whom she now spoke as The Pretender, had been treated with the respect due to his rank and landed on the French coast.

The attempted invasion had come to nothing; and the Queen need have no fear on that score, but there was a little uneasiness when she heard that Lord Griffin, an ardent Jacobite who had been with her brother in France and had come with him to Scotland, had been captured and was being brought to the Tower where he would be sentenced as a traitor.

Troubled, Anne turned to Abigail. “You see, Masham, I know Griffin well. I have known him all my life. How can I sign his death warrant? I know he fought with my brother and his plan was to set him up in my place, but he is an old friend. I cannot sentence old friends to death, and be at peace with my conscience.”

Abigail had talked with Harley. He was a Jacobite; so was she. They did not wish to see Anne deposed during her lifetime naturally, but when she died—for she would almost certainly die without heirs of her body—they would wish to see James Stuart on the throne and not Sophia of Hanover.

“They will bring Lord Griffin to the tower, Your Majesty, but they will not be able to execute him if you do not sign the death warrant.”

“But it will be expected of me.”

“Your Majesty answers to no one. I believe that some people who have mistakenly thought they could put you in leading strings are beginning to discover that.”

Abigail had folded her arms and pursed her lips. Extraordinarily, it seemed to Anne, her face was transformed and it might have been Sarah standing there.

Anne began to laugh.

“I feel so relieved that my poor brother is safe in France. And you’re right, Masham, they won’t be able to execute him until the death warrant is signed, and if I don’t sign it … then Griffin will live on.”

They laughed together.

Now that Masham behaved less like a servant they were growing closer than ever.

George was clearly worse, and as he loved Kensington perhaps more than any other place, Anne decided to take him there and, with Abigail, nurse him as quietly as she could.

It was Abigail who suggested that the Prince should have apartments on the ground floor of the palace.

The Prince’s difficulty in breathing, increased by his corpulence—and now that he was unable to take exercise he was becoming visibly fatter every day—made it difficult for him to mount staircases; and Abigail’s idea was hailed as an excellent one.

“He loves his plants,” said the Queen indulgently, “and it will be so easy for him to slip out into the gardens to be among them, with the least possible strain.”

So to Kensington went the royal party, and as the Queen could not be parted from Abigail and it was essential that her apartments should be immediately adjoining those of the Queen and Prince, Abigail and Samuel found themselves magnificently lodged at Kensington.

Sarah was flitting from St. Albans to Blenheim and back to see how Marlborough House was progressing and had little time to spare for the Queen. Moreover, she believed that if she remained aloof Anne would be unable to endure the separation and would humbly ask her to come to her.

She waited in vain for the summons, but her daughter Henrietta, who had been visiting at the palace, came to her to tell her what magnificent apartments Abigail was occupying there, and when Sarah asked her to describe them her eyes narrowed with anger.

“Why,” she cried, “I know those apartments although I have never occupied them. William had them made for Keppel. You remember Keppel was at one time a very great favourite with William and he could scarce bear the young man out of his sight. When William died and George took over the Palace—which he did with scarcely respectable speed—Anne said that those apartments should be mine. And that gooseberry-eyed slut is occupying them! I shall soon put a stop to that.”

Although she had pleaded lack of time to go to Court before this, Sarah went straight there and demanded that the housekeeper show her the rooms which were being occupied by the Mashams.

As soon as she saw them she gave vent to her rage.

“These rooms were given to me by the Queen when she first came to the throne!” she declared, and went off to see the Queen, thrusting aside those who would restrain her.

“I can assure you that Her Majesty will put nothing in the way of seeing me!” she declared.

It may have been that Abigail had seen her approach or it might have been one of those rare occasions when she was not in attendance, but Sarah found one of the other bedchamber women with the Queen.

“It is not often that we have the pleasure of Mrs. Freeman’s company,” began the Queen.

But Sarah burst out, “I have heard disturbing news. Mrs. Masham has taken my lodgings.”

Anne looked dismayed and Sarah rushed on. “It is not the first time that she has sought to take that which belongs to me. I’ll not have her in my apartments.”

“Masham has none of your rooms,” said the Queen.

“The housekeeper has shown me that she has. Your Majesty gave me those rooms and I will not have Masham using them.”

“But Masham has none of your rooms,” repeated the Queen, “and to say to the contrary is false and a lie.”

“If Your Majesty will send for the housekeeper, who knows very well which apartments here are being used by whom, he will tell you that Masham is using that apartment which William gave to Keppel and which you gave me. I will summon him.”

“Pray do not,” said the Queen coldly. “I do not wish to see him because I know Masham has none of your rooms.”

Sarah asked leave to depart and the Queen did not detain her. She was so certain that Abigail was using her rooms and could not let pass an occasion for proving herself in the right. It did not occur to her that the Queen was telling her politely that she could no longer consider the apartment hers, and that it had been given to Abigail.

Sarah must prove herself right.

She went once more to the housekeeper. She looked at the apartments again and stalked back to the Queen.

“Masham is in my apartment,” she said.

“Masham has not made use of your apartment,” retorted the Queen coldly.

“I can bring those to Mrs. Morley who will assure her that Masham is in my apartment.”

“How could she help using an apartment which is near my own?” demanded the Queen. “She must be at hand, for the Prince and I need her.”

Sarah was exasperated. How could one talk to a woman who one moment was so emphatic, and then calmly admitted what one had been trying to prove.

Anne made no attempt to placate her; so Sarah took her leave and as she did so she heard her say: “Where is Masham? I have such a headache. Send her to me.”

This was too much to be borne and Sarah was furious. So the Queen no longer cared whether she visited her or not. She would care though if she lost her Commander-in-Chief. And by God, thought Sarah, if I have to endure much more insolence I shall insist on Marl giving up his command. If he were here now she would tell him so, but he was at this moment in Holland, fighting the Queen’s battles while his wife at home was being insulted.

In the heat of her fury she did what she always found soothing to her rage. She sat down and wrote to the object of her anger—in this case the Queen rather than Abigail.

“Madam, upon Lord Marlborough’s going into Holland I believe Your Majesty will neither be surprised nor displeased to hear that I am going into the country, since by your very hard and uncommon usage of me, you have convinced all sorts of people as well as myself that nothing would be so uneasy to you as my near attendance. Upon this account I thought it might not be improper at my going into the country to acquaint Your Majesty that even while Lord Marlborough continues in your service, as well as when he finds himself obliged to leave it, if Your Majesty thinks fit to dispose of my employments, according to the solemn assurances you have been pleased to give me, you shall meet with all the submissions and acknowledgments imaginable.…”

There, she felt better. That would show Anne that if she did not wish to see Sarah, Sarah had no wish to be with her.

Anne read the letter and sighed. She was too preoccupied with poor dear George to give any attention to Sarah’s tantrums. In fact when she read the letter she felt somewhat relieved because lately she had simply not cared that Sarah should be angry and was secretly pleased when she stayed away from Court.

For the first time since she had met Sarah she did not care what Sarah thought of her.

It was escape from a long bondage.

The Prince’s health did not improve during that hot May and Anne discussed with Abigail the desirability of moving farther into the country. Windsor would be delightful but the castle was high and sudden winds, even in summer, could render it draughty. There was the little house in the forest close to the castle which Anne had acquired when her quarrel with her sister had made it impossible for her to reside in the castle.

It would be so much easier, said Abigail, to nurse the Prince in this small establishment; and there they would be free from formality.

Anne remembered an occasion when she had lived the simple country life with her boy in Twickenham and how happy they had all been.

She was sure Abigail was right and they set off, and taking few servants with them installed the dying Prince in the little house in the forest.

Here Anne was with him constantly, for he was uneasy if she was not in sight or within call.

“It breaks my heart to see him, Masham,” she said, and Abigail assured her that it was the most touching sight in the world to see them together.

Mr. Harley was a frequent caller and he enlivened those days made sad by the Prince’s illness, which they all knew was progressing towards the inevitable end.

Sarah, having received no reply to her letter, was very angry; she declared that the Queen had cruelly taken the dying Prince to this little hut which was as hot as an oven, because the chambermaid wished to invite her paramour, Harley, there.

Such malicious gossip did not reach the Queen’s ears; her days were filled by looking after her husband and talking to Mr. Harley, listening to Abigail’s music and conversation.

Dr. Arbuthnot and his wife were with them and she often told them what a comfort she found in the presence of the Mashams.

It was a simple life—strange and unreal to those who lived it because it was so remote from the Court.

Abigail, however, never ceased to think ahead; and one day when she was walking through the woods with Samuel she said to him: “I doubt the Prince will see the end of the year.”

Samuel was silent; like most people who served the Prince, he was fond of him.

“Has it occurred to you to wonder what will become of you when the Prince dies?”

She looked at him with a slightly contemptuous tenderness. She would always have to think for him.

“No?” she answered for him. “Well, there will be no place for you then. We will have to think, Samuel, my dear. Politics? The Army? Perhaps both. I will speak to the Queen. But not yet. I would not have her think that my mind ran on such practical matters. But when the Prince is dead, and that cannot be long, I will speak to her. But in the time that is left to us, Samuel, we should think. We should think very carefully indeed.”

“Do you think I would make a politician, Abigail?”

“Your tongue is scarcely ready enough.”

She thought of Harley, whose tongue was ever-ready. In time Harley would become the Queen’s chief Minister. She was sure of it. There ought to be room in his government for a place for Abigail Masham’s husband.

Then she thought of the great Duke and the power of commanding the Army. With Marlborough abroad and Sarah at home the Churchills could have ruled the country. But Sarah had been a fool as Abigail never would be. But on the other hand Marlborough was a military genius and Samuel would never be any sort of genius.

Abigail sighed and slipped her arm through that of her husband.

“One thing we have decided,” she said, “and that it is that it must either be politics or the Army.”

The quiet of the little house in Windsor was broken by the news of Marlborough’s great victory at Oudenarde.

“The great Duke is a genius,” said Anne when she read the news and hastily wrote to him expressing her appreciation, but when she saw the lists of dead and wounded in the battle and understood the losses which had gone to make this victory she wept.

“Oh Lord,” she cried, “when will all this dreadful bloodshed cease.”

Such a victory, whatever it had cost, must be celebrated. The nation would expect it; and Anne must therefore leave Windsor and travel to London for the thanksgiving service at St. Paul’s.

Marlborough’s new feat had brought Sarah back to Court triumphantly, snapping her fingers with glee. Let them understand once and for all that they could not do without Marlborough.

She was back at her old duties at the wardrobe. She would ride with the Queen to St. Paul’s, and receive the cheers. And some people would realize that they must take her into account, for she was far more important than any dirty little chambermaid could ever be.

Anne, terribly anxious on account of George, was subdued when she considered all those who had fallen on the battlefield, asking herself how much longer this dreadful war would continue and whether the good which would come of victory was worth the price that was paid; and Sarah with customary blindness and concern with her own affairs mistook this for remorse for the manner in which Anne had treated her and a desire to return to the old relationship.

Very well, thought Sarah, she would take her back; but she must realize that if the friendship was to be put back on its old footing, there must be no more foolish tantrums.

She bustled into the royal apartments where the Queen was resting in preparation for the ordeal before her and busied herself with arranging the Queen’s jewels. Mrs. Danvers, recovered from her illness and no longer concerned with immediate death, fluttered sycophantishly round her, whispering of the further insolence of that upstart Masham, for in Sarah’s presence it was impossible for some people to doubt that she was all she believed herself to be.

“The Queen will wear these rubies and these diamonds,” Sarah told Danvers. “She must look … dazzling. The people will expect it.”

“Well, Your Grace, she will look magnificent.”

“And so she should, Danvers. To look anything less would be an insult to the Duke!”

Sarah was undoubtedly back. Mrs. Danvers predicted to Mrs. Abrahal that Mrs. Masham would not be lording it much longer. It was only necessary for the Duchess to make an appearance and it was remembered how important she was. It would not be long, mark her words, before Madam Masham was sent away and things would be as they used to be in the old days.

Abigail was in attendance on the Queen, helping her prepare for the journey to St. Paul’s. She was uneasy. The attitude of the bedchamber women had changed towards her; they were faintly insolent. “Her Grace has said that Her Majesty shall wear these.…” As though Her Grace were the Queen. They did not know that the Queen had changed towards the Duchess in the last months. Abigail was certain that the moment could not be far off when there would be a final break between the Queen and her one-time friend. Yet Sarah had only to appear and everyone was ready to accept her as the invincible Duchess.

Well, it should not be so. Sarah was a fool, Abigail reminded herself, who could not control her anger, keep her mouth shut nor her fingers from a pen. Her anger when she was crossed was so fierce that it had to flow, but that was Sarah’s undoing and Abigail was going to see that she was vanquished once and for all time.

“I am sorry this has to be,” Abigail was saying. “Your Majesty is worn out.”

“My thoughts are with George. He will be needing us.”

“I have given Masham firm instructions. He will not fail us.” Anne pressed Abigail’s hand. “But I shall be glad, my dear, when we are back with him.”

“It will be soon, Your Majesty.”

“I feel in little mood for thanksgiving. You saw the casualty lists. They haunt me. I think of those poor men dying on the battlefield and I wonder whether it is worthwhile. I wonder whether any fighting is worthwhile.”

“The Duke of Marlborough will explain that to you. Madam.”

“Ah, the Duke! A brilliant soldier, a genius.”

“And where would brilliant soldiers show their genius if not on the battlefield, Madam?”

“But the carnage! My subjects! I told you I think of them as my children, Masham.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Your heart is too good.”

“I want the best for them, Masham. I want to see them in their homes, with plenty to eat, work to do, families to bring up … most of all families, for I feel that is the greatest blessing of all. If I had had children … If my boy had lived there would not be this tiresome matter of George of Hanover. You know, Masham, the Whigs wanted to bring him to visit England as the future heir to the throne. I will not have it. I will not.”

“Mr. Harley told me of it. He thought it monstrous. But he said Your Majesty has only to refuse to receive him.”

“You know how insistent these people can be.”

“The Whigs at the moment have too much power. Since they turned out Mr. Harley and Mr. St. John and the others, they have taken control and that could never be a good thing.”

Anne nodded.

“People are saying that the war is a Whig war, Madam. The Duke of Marlborough was a Tory until he needed the Whigs to support his war.”

“Sometimes I think, Masham, that Marlborough’s great concern is to make war for its own sake.”

“And for his, Madam.” Abigail’s face formed into an expression matching that of the Duke’s, and Anne smiled appreciative of this amusing talent.

“I never liked George of Hanover,” went on Anne. “He was most … uncouth. I met him in my youth.”

Yes, she thought, most uncouth. They had brought him to England as a possible bridegroom for her but he had declined the match presumably. It was fortunate, for because of that they had brought her that other dear, good George who now, alas, lay so ill in the little house in Windsor Forest. But although she rejoiced that she had missed George of Hanover, she would never like him.

“If he came,” she went on, “he might stay. He might set up a Court of his own. I should feel that there were some who were simply waiting for me to die. Oh, no, I will not have him here.”

“Even the Whigs will not dare, Madam, if you refuse to have him. It is a pity that there has been so much noise about his exploits on the battlefield of Oudenarde.”

“Ah! The battle!” sighed the Queen. “How I wish that we could have done with battles.”

“And now, Madam, you must leave His Highness at Windsor to come here to take part in this celebration.”

“I never felt less like celebrating, Masham.”

“I know it.”

“I do not want my people to think that I glorify war.”

“I understand Your Majesty’s deeply religious sentiments, and how you feel about going to St. Paul’s decked out in jewels. It would give the impression …”

“I know exactly what you mean, Masham.”

“It is a victory over the French, but in my opinion it would be better to give thanks humbly to God and to pray that soon there might be an end to this bloodshed.”

“You voice my feelings so admirably, Masham.”

“Then since Your Majesty is of this opinion why should you not act according to what is in your heart?”

“The Duchess has a grand occasion in mind. She has set out my most dazzling jewels.”

“But if it is not Your Majesty’s wish …”

“You are right. It is my heart which I should obey … not the wishes of the Duchess of Marlborough.”

The cavalcade went on its brilliant way from St. James’s to St. Paul’s; the people of London lined the streets to watch it pass and to wait for the first glimpse of the Queen. They wanted to shout “Long live Good Queen Anne.”

She was a good woman and a good Queen, they agreed. The fact that she herself was nursing her sick husband won their regard more certainly than the fact that her Commander-in-Chief had scored up yet another victory against the French at Oudenarde. She touched for the Evil; she had set up her Bounty; and they sensed that she genuinely cared for her subjects. There was no scandal in her married life; the only strange aspect of her emotional life was her passionate friendship for Sarah Churchill and now it was said for Abigail Masham, her chambermaid. But she was Good Queen Anne and they cheered her heartily.

And in the coach with her rode the Duchess, the beautiful Sarah Churchill who was—not excepting the Queen—the most famous woman in England and abroad.

Sarah was delighted. Another victory for dear Marl. She was the heroine of the occasion. All these people on the streets who were cheering the Queen were in reality cheering her and of course dear Marl. Who was responsible for the victory? Was it this fat woman with the rheumy eyes and the swollen limbs? No, it was her companion—handsome, though well advanced into her forties, with her rich hair, still golden and her fine glowing skin and her brilliant eyes—because after all, Marlborough’s victories were hers. Genius that he was he owed his success to her.

A great occasion to be celebrated as such. Nothing should be spared to show the people how important was Marlborough’s victory.

Sarah glanced at the Queen, and for the first time noticed that she was not wearing the jewels she had set out for her.

No jewels at all! On an occasion like this! Whatever had happened?

“Where are your jewels?” she snapped.

The Queen turned to her. There were tears in her eyes. She had been noticing that some of the subjects who cheered her were ill-clad and hungry looking. “My jewels …?” she murmured absently.

“I put out what you were to wear. What does this mean?”

The Queen, her thoughts still not entirely on the jewels, said: “Oh, we thought that because there had been such bloodshed it was a sad occasion as well as a great one.”

“We?” thundered Sarah.

“Masham agreed with me.”

Nothing the Queen could have said could have whipped Sarah’s anger to greater fury. She, the wife of the hero of the hour, had set out the Queen’s jewels, in accordance with her duties as Mistress of the Wardrobe, and Abigail Masham, the chambermaid-slut, had said “No jewels!” and no jewels there were.

This was too much to be borne and even on the ceremonial ride to St. Paul’s Sarah could not curb her anger.

“So Your Majesty would insult the Duke?”

“Insult the Duke? What do you mean, Mrs. Freeman? How could I do aught but honour him?”

“It is hard to imagine that you could; but it seems that if that slut Masham orders you, you obey.”

“I would rather not discuss this matter.”

“But I would.”

“Mrs. Freeman …”

“Oh, here is a nice state of affairs. The Duke risks his life for you. His one thought is your honour and that of his country. He brings you victories such as no Sovereign has ever been given before and you behave as though this victory is an occasion for mourning rather than rejoicing.”

“I rejoice, naturally, but at the same time I think of those of my subjects who have lost their lives. I think of those poor families who have lost a dear one.…”

“Sentimental nonsense, Mrs. Morley.”

“I do not think it is sentimental nonsense. It is true. Masham and I were very sad about it.…”

“Don’t give me Masham, Madam. I am sick to death of that name. I wish most heartily that I had known what a snake I was sending you when I put her in your bedchamber.”

“I have had nothing but kindness and consideration from Masham. She has served me with greater care than any … yes any ever did before.”

“Since Mrs. Morley is so enamoured of this dirty chambermaid …”

The carriage had stopped at St. Paul’s and the door was being opened for the Queen and the Duchess to alight.

The Queen walked painfully towards the Cathedral, Sarah beside her.

“God Save the Queen!” shouted the crowd. Anne smiled her shortsighted but most appealing smile and lifted one of her hands to wave to them.

“A dirty chambermaid!” continued Sarah. “She has come into your bedchamber and poisoned your mind against all your best friends! It is a marvellous thing, and none would have thought you could be so duped. But it has happened!”

“I do not want to hear such things,” said Anne.

“But hear them you shall!” cried Sarah. “I was ever one to speak my mind. In the past you always said that you preferred my frankness to the subterfuge of others. You knew that when I said something I meant it. But it seems that has changed. You prefer a mealymouthed chambermaid who has nothing to say but ‘Yes, Madam,’ ‘No, Madam’—whatever you wish to hear. And all she asks in return is your permission to bring her dear friend Harley into the bedchamber to pour his lies into your willing ears. And Marlborough, the Commander-in-Chief of your armies, is nothing to you.”

They had reached the top of the Cathedral steps. The Queen was exhausted by the effort. She cried in a loud and agitated voice: “It is not true. It is not true.”

Several people looked startled and the Duchess being aware of this said in a voice which was heard by many standing close by: “Be silent. Don’t answer me now.”

There was a titter of astonishment as the Queen and the Duchess passed into the Cathedral.

Had they heard correctly? Had a subject actually given the Queen such a peremptory order and in public?

Surely not. But it was so. Many had heard it. It would have been incredible if the subject had not been the Duchess of Marlborough.

After the ceremony, Anne was exhausted; yet she could not shut out of her mind the peremptory voice of the Duchess of Marlborough telling her to be silent.

“This is too much,” she told herself. “This really is too much. I should be happy never to see her again.”

Masham tended her and helped her to bed. She did not speak of the matter, even to Masham, who was so discreet though she must have heard of it, for all London would be talking of it.

Sarah had not come to St. James’s. Perhaps she too understood that she had gone too far.

Sarah did in fact realize that she had been somewhat outspoken; also that many people must have heard the manner in which she addressed the Queen on the steps of the Cathedral. But it was true, she excused herself. And I will have truth.

She had received a letter from the Duke, for he always wrote to her in detail as soon as was possible after one of his battles, in which he said that he was sorry that the Queen no longer favoured the Duchess and himself and was fonder of Mrs. Masham than ever. He did not believe that there could be any happiness or quietness while this was so. It was not good for the country.

“There!” said Sarah to herself. “Is that not exactly what I have repeatedly told her.”

She immediately took up her pen and wrote to the Queen:

“I cannot help sending Your Majesty this letter, to show how exactly Lord Marlborough agrees with me in my opinion that he has now no interest with you, though when I said so in the church on Thursday you were pleased to say it was untrue!

“And yet I think he will be surprised to hear that when I had taken so much pains to put your jewels in a way that I thought you would like, Mrs. Masham could make you refuse to wear them in so unkind a manner, because that was a power she had not thought fit to exercise before.

“I will make no reflections on it, only that I must needs observe that Your Majesty chose a very wrong day to mortify me when you were just going to return thanks for a victory obtained by my lord Marlborough.”

Sarah never stopped to consider the effect her words might have—written or spoken—and immediately despatched the letter to the Queen.

How tired I am of her perpetual quarrels! thought Anne. But since she asked for Marlborough’s letter to be returned she wrote briefly:

“After the commands you gave me at the thanksgiving of not answering you, I should not have troubled you with these lines, but to return the Duke of Marlborough’s letter safe into your hands; and for the same reason I do not say anything to that nor to yours which enclosed it.”

When Sarah received that letter she began to believe that she was indeed losing her power over the Queen. Never had Anne written to her in such a cool and regal manner.

She was disturbed. She wrote copiously to Marlborough telling him what was happening at home. She also could not refrain from writing to the Queen.

But Anne had no time for correspondence. She was eager to return to her husband and she set out with Abigail and a few attendants for the house in Windsor Forest, where Dr. Arbuthnot greeted her with the idea that he thought a cure at Bath might be beneficial to the Prince.

Anything that would help him Anne was willing to do and immediately made arrangements to set out for the Spa which she herself loved to visit.

Bath welcomed the Queen and her consort, and it seemed as though Dr. Arbuthnot was right, for the Prince’s health certainly did seem to improve.

Anne’s spirits rose. As she said to Abigail: “It is long since I have felt so pleased with his state of health.”