Courting Her Highness

SARAH IN THE DEATH CHAMBER

The Bath visit having proved such a success, the royal party returned to Kensington. The Duchess still kept in the shadows and Anne and her husband, with the Mashams in close attendance, settled into the ground floor apartments of the Palace.

Each October the Queen went to Newmarket for the racing and although Anne did not feel the Prince was quite well enough to accompany her she made preparations for the journey.

A few days before she was due to leave she noticed that George seemed unhappy and as, in spite of his sufferings, this was unusual with him, she noticed his mood immediately.

“What is it, George?” she asked. “Are you anxious about something?”

He took her hand and said: “I wish you were not leaving me.”

“You are not feeling so well?”

“I haf a feeling that I do not vish for you to go.”

“You do not care to be parted from me, is that it? We have been married for more than twenty-five years.…”

“Est il possible?” he asked.

“Yes, George, it is … and you still do not like to be parted from me.”

“My love,” he said, “I haf this feeling …” He touched his heart. “… in here … that I vould not vish you to be away from me … at this time.”

Tears filled Anne’s eyes. “Then, my love, I shall remain.”

That night the Prince became very ill. Anne, alarmed, aroused the Mashams. Abigail helped her to hold up George to enable him to breathe while Samuel hurried for the doctors.

“He knew,” whispered Anne. “Oh, my poor dear angel, he knew. He begged me not to leave him.”

This was a more virulent attack than usual and both women knew that the end was near.

“I thank God that I have you with me, Abigail my dear, to help me bear this trial,” said the Queen.

“I suffer with Your Majesty,” Abigail answered, as she expertly lifted the Prince and helped to maintain him in a more comfortable position.

“How … can so little a person … hold such a big one …” whispered George.

“Don’t talk, my dearest. Masham is an angel. And I don’t know what we should do without her. But don’t talk, my love.”

The doctors arrived and eased him a little. But there was consternation throughout the Palace.

Prince George, old Est-il-Possible?, who had never been really unkind to anyone since he had come to England, was dying.

Sarah heard the news. The Prince dying and she not at the Palace! Others would be attending the Queen at this important moment. It was unthinkable. There had been that quarrel in the Cathedral when the Queen had been so bad tempered and there had been no reconciliation. But at a time like this, the Duchess of Marlborough must be at the Palace.

Could she present herself to the Queen? Scarcely when Anne had not answered her letters.

She sat down and wrote a letter to the Queen telling her that in spite of the latter’s ill treatment of her she was ready to let bygones be bygones and return to look after the Queen at this sad time. But she could not curb a word or two of reproach.

“Though the last time I had the honour to wait upon Your Majesty your usage of me was such as was scarce possible for me to imagine or anyone to believe …”

The angry pen raced on; the letter was written and sealed. Now to send it by a messenger.

But perhaps there was little time to waste. It might be that the Prince was already dead. Others would be there, taking over her duties. She could not allow that, so she would take the letter herself.

She arrived at Kensington, haughtily summoned a page and told him to take the letter to the Queen immediately.

“Her Majesty is with the Prince,” was the answer.

She looked amazed that anyone could question her orders. “I have told you to take that letter to the Queen … and no matter where she is I expect you to obey me.”

The page, intimidated as everyone was accustomed to be by the great Duchess, immediately obeyed. But no sooner had he gone than it occurred to Sarah that when she read the letter the Queen might refuse to see her. So without waiting for a summons from the Queen she went to the bedchamber where the Prince lay dying and brushing aside those who were guarding the door strode into the room.

The Queen, blinded by tears, was not aware of her until she came close.

“Mrs. Morley, I should be with you at such a time.”

The Queen did not seem to see her.

“Although,” went on Sarah, “in view of your treatment of me when we last met I am sure you did not expect to see me.…”

The Queen turned away from her, but Sarah caught her arm.

“But at such a time we must forget that unfortunate incident. I shall remain here with you. But naturally I must ask you to dismiss Masham. She will not be needed while I am here.…”

Anne turned her tragic face to Sarah and in that moment none could doubt that she was the Queen and Sarah the subject.

“Go away,” she said.

Sarah was deflated. Anne turned her back. There was nothing the Duchess could do but leave the bedchamber.

The Queen sat beside her husband’s bed, unable to speak, stunned by her misery. The Duchess, who when told to go away had only left the bedchamber and was waiting in the adjoining room, immediately came back and ordered everyone from the room so that only she and the Queen remained at the bedside of the dead Prince.

Sarah knelt by the Queen and took one of her hands.

“My poor friend, this is a terrible blow. I suffer with you.”

The Queen looked at Sarah as though she did not see her.

“But,” went on Sarah, “there is nothing you can do by weeping.”

Still the Queen did not answer and Sarah, continuing to kneel, allowed the silence to remain for some minutes; then she said gently: “Your Majesty should not remain here. It is not good for you. Will you let me take you to St. James’s?”

“I will stay here,” said Anne.

“No, no,” said Sarah. “You cannot stay in this dismal place.”

“Leave me,” whispered Anne.

“How could I leave you at such a time? You need your friend with you now as never before. My dear Mrs. Morley, I suffer with you, but I repeat it would be well to leave this place.”

“I wish to stay at Kensington.”

Anger bubbled up in Sarah. Why was she so stubborn? Who ever heard of a widowed Queen refusing to leave the bedside of her husband? Masham was here, of course. Did she think that it was easier to have Masham with her constantly at Kensington than it would be at St. James’s?

With tremendous restraint Sarah prevented herself from mentioning Masham’s name. Even she realized that one could not quarrel in the death chamber.

But she would not give up. “Madam, no one in the world ever stayed in a place where a husband lay dead. Wherever you go in this place you cannot be far from that dismal body.”

“Do not speak of him so!”

“Dear Mrs. Morley, I speak only for your welfare. It is my only concern. If you went to St. James’s you need not see anyone you did not wish to see. And you might see any person that is a comfort to you … there as anywhere else.”

Anne nodded slowly. “It is true,” she said.

“I will take you in my coach. We will draw the curtains and none will be aware that it is you. You will feel better when you leave this place.”

“Leave me with him for a while,” said the Queen, “and then send Masham to me.”

Sarah looked stricken for a moment and then the blood rushed into her face; but the Queen had turned from her and Sarah could do nothing but leave her.

Send for Masham. Never!

The Queen looked up as the door opened and her disappointment was obvious when she saw Sarah instead of Abigail.

“I did not send for Mrs. Masham,” announced Sarah. “There are bishops and ladies of the bedchamber waiting to see Your Majesty and I thought it would make a disagreeable noise if you kept them out on account of a chambermaid.”

“I asked for Masham …” began the Queen.

“Your Majesty can summon her to St. James’s … if you wish.”

“I need to prepare for the journey.”

“My dear Mrs. Morley, it will be the pleasure of Mrs. Freeman to wait on you. I will send for your travelling clothes and we will leave at once.”

To Sarah’s dismay the maid who brought the Queen’s travelling cloak and hood was Alice Hill, and Sarah in her jealous awareness saw that the Queen’s expression lightened a little at the sight of Abigail’s sister.

Anne bent towards her. “Tell Masham that I need her. She is to come to me at once,” she whispered.

Alice, aware of the thunderous expression on Sarah’s face, inclined her head and curtsied to show that she understood and would obey the Queen’s order immediately; and Anne wrapped in her travelling cloak passed on with the Duchess behind her.

In the gallery along which she must pass, certain of her household were gathered—among them Dr. Arbuthnot and, to Anne’s delight, Abigail herself.

Anne smiled and as she passed leaned towards Abigail and pressed her hand.

Abigail understood. She was to follow the Queen without delay; and when Anne had left and Alice came breathlessly to her to give her the Queen’s message, Abigail lost no time in setting out for St. James’s.

Sarah took the Queen triumphantly to her apartments.

“Dear Mrs. Morley, I pray you leave everything to me. Friends should be together at a time like this.”

Anne did not answer.

“If Mrs. Morley would like to go to the green closet I will take her there and have something warm and soothing sent to her.”

Anne nodded and together they went to the favourite room.

The green closet! There he had sat dozing in his chair while Masham played on the harpsichord, made bohea tea or produced something stronger which she served so daintily, moving noiselessly about the apartment. How she longed for the return of those days which were gone for ever. But Masham was still here.

She wanted Masham to come and Sarah to go and leave her alone. She never wanted to see Sarah again.

But Sarah was giving imperious orders. “Bring broth for Her Majesty. Yes, Mrs. Morley, it will do you good. You must eat. It will give you strength.”

The broth was brought, and Anne sipped it without tasting it.

“Now,” said Sarah, “I will see about ordering you a really nourishing dish. You will feel so much better when you have had something really good to eat. It was well that I brought you from that dismal place. You could do no good by staying there.”

Sarah went out and after a few moments there was a light scratching at the door.

Anne gave the order to enter, and when she saw who was there she gave a cry of joy. Abigail ran to her and knelt at her feet, kissing her hands.

“Masham … dearest Masham!” said the Queen.

Abigail lifted her face to the Queen’s; Abigail’s was blotched with weeping. The Queen stretched out her hands. “Such comfort to have you with me, my dear. Stay … stay here.”

Sarah came back and found them together.

The Prince lay in state at Kensington for fifteen days before his body was conveyed to the Painted Chamber of Westminster. During this time Anne kept Abigail with her, although Sarah refused to leave the Court. Her posts demanded that she stay, she declared.

The Queen spent her days planning the funeral and drawing comfort from Abigail. Sarah looked on with distaste. It was most unseemly, she told Danvers. Did the Queen care nothing for the Prince, and all for ceremonies!

As the Queen was clearly heartbroken this statement seemed strange, but no one dared disagree with the Duchess of Marlborough.

Anne, wanting the whole country to understand that this was indeed a period of mourning, ordered the closing of all theatres. She herself remained in the green closet, seeing only her ministers and a few of her servants. Abigail was in constant attendance and the Duchess remained at St. James’s.

It was a shock to Sarah to see the change in Abigail, who, she told Godolphin, had become arrogant and completely forgetful that she was merely a chambermaid.

The funeral took place as Anne had wished with the utmost pomp—an impressive ceremony by torchlight attended by all the important ministers and officials.

But the main preoccupation of the Queen’s ministers—Whig and Tory—was not the death of the Queen’s husband but the shifting of the Queen’s favour from the Duchess of Marlborough to Mrs. Masham.