by Jean Plaidy
Elizabeth however had always been amenable and she was surprised therefore when the girl came to her and told her that she had fallen in love.
“What!” screamed Sarah.
“Mamma, I know I am young but I am certain of my feelings and I shall never have another moment’s happiness unless you give your consent.”
“Have you gone out of your mind?”
Elizabeth’s lips trembled and Sarah noticed with satisfaction how very much in awe of her she was. But in love! With a man of her own choosing! Could anyone be so ignorant of her duty as a Churchill!
“You had better tell me all about this folly, girl,” said Sarah grimly.
“Scroop says that he does not wish to wait.”
“Scroop?” cried Sarah.
“Scroop Egerton.”
Sarah was silent. Scroop Egerton, fourth Earl of Bridgewater, Master of Horse to Prince George! This was different. She would have no objection to accepting him as her son-in-law. He would be another supporter for dearest Marl.
Her voice softened. “So, my dearest Elizabeth, you have seen fit to affiance yourself to this young man without my consent?”
“Mamma, Scroop wishes to speak to you. He says that he is sure he can persuade you.…”
“And you little more than fifteen!”
“My sisters were not much older.”
“I cannot think what your dearest father will say.”
“He will be pleased if you are, Mamma.”
She smiled complacently. It was true—although she had had to persuade him to accept Sunderland. It was not that Sunderland was not an excellent match, but dear Marl had wondered whether his beloved daughter would be happy with the man. Dear Marl! Just a little sentimental. And what was he going to say about Elizabeth’s marrying at fifteen!
But Scroop Egerton, Earl of Bridgewater! That did warrant some consideration.
“I must have time to think about this, my dear child. You have somewhat thrust it upon me.”
Elizabeth threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Oh, dearest Mamma, please give your consent. I could not bear to be separated from Scroop—and equally I could not bear to displease you!”
Sarah patted the girl’s head. Sweet creature. Next to Marl, she thought, I believe I love her best in the world.
Sarah shooed everyone out of the apartment and sat down by the Queen’s couch.
“Who would have children, Mrs. Morley! I do declare it is just one thing after another.”
Anne looked tearful. Who would have children? She would if she could. She would have given her crown to have her boy back again. Did not Mrs. Freeman understand that?
“As you know, my dear Mrs. Morley, I have been most put out with young Blandford. He will go for a soldier. He will talk to his father. He will try to have these matters arranged without my knowledge. Did you ever hear the like?”
“My boy would have understood his desires to …”
“Without consulting me, Mrs. Freeman! Behind my back! Oh, he knows very well he is in disgrace. And if that is not enough what do you think? My Elizabeth has come to me with a tale of being in love.”
“She is but a child.”
“Children nowadays, Mrs. Morley, seem to think they may flout their parents. In our day it was different. We had to do as we were told.…”
Anne looked faintly surprised. She was trying to remember when Sarah had waited to be told what to do.
“Now it is, ‘I am going to do this …’ ‘I am going to do that.’ But I should never be one to allow my children to flout me. It is not good for them. They must learn discipline. But I am telling you. My Elizabeth wishes to marry.”
“Oh but not yet surely.…”
“She is in love, if you please, with Bridgewater. The Earl you know. The Prince’s Master of Horse.”
“I know him well, of course. And I like him. He is a charming young man.”
“I have no objection to Bridgewater. But the girl is only fifteen.”
“Fifteen and in love …” murmured Anne, peering back into a past when the Earl of Mulgrave—still a most delightful man—had written his poems to her and hoped he might be allowed to marry her. “It is very touching.”
“So it is,” agreed Sarah. “And since they are so much in love, I cannot find it in my heart to deny them what they ask.”
“I understand you well, dear Mrs. Freeman. I often used to think about the time when my dear boy would fall in love.…”
“Of course poor Marl will have to find the dowry. Who would have daughters, Mrs. Morley?”
“You must allow me to make a little gift to the couple. Please, Mrs. Freeman, do not deny me this happiness.”
“Your Majesty is always generous. I do not forget your goodness to my Henrietta and Anne.”
“It gives me pleasure to see the young people happy. Whenever I see young people happy I think of my boy. He had a great capacity for happiness, Mrs. Freeman; and the time would have come when he would have married … had he lived.”
“But he didn’t,” said Sarah impatiently.
Anne’s lips quivered.
“My dear Mrs. Morley, you do yourself no good by dwelling on your loss. I think it very likely that ’ere long you will be giving us a Prince.”
“Ah, if that could only be so I believe I should suffer less from my terrible loss. I shall give this dear child of yours ten thousand pounds. Please allow me to, Mrs. Freeman.”
Ten thousand pounds! Sarah’s eyes glittered. Marl would be so pleased. And he was going to be anxious on account of his daughter’s youth and he’d be equally so when he thought of the dowry he would have to give her. Ten thousand pounds would be a good dowry for any girl. But there would be the outcry. She knew. It would be the old story of those about the Queen bleeding her and then there might be all sorts of difficulties—even laws made in Parliament. Marl had said that she must be careful not to take gifts which were too large. It was better to take little frequently.
“Your Majesty is too generous. I could not take it.”
“It would give me great pleasure, dear Mrs. Freeman.”
Sarah smiled complacently. The fat old creature really doted on her; she could do what she wanted to with her. She could be rude and arrogant and still she came pleading for friendship.
“I remember your generosity to the others. You gave them five thousand a piece. Give the same to Elizabeth. That will please me mightily, Mrs. Morley.”
“I will speak to my Lord Treasurer about it as soon as I see him.” My Lord Treasurer! Lord Godolphin, her daughter’s father-in-law! He would put no obstacle in the way. What an excellent state of affairs when the rulers were all in the family!
Sarah was excited because John was coming home for the winter. He would return as a hero, for although he himself believed that the campaign was only in its very earliest stages, everyone else seemed to think that he had scored great victories.
Anne was delighted for Sarah’s sake in his success and it seemed to Abigail that she wished to atone for the momentary feelings of antagonism she must have felt at times towards her great friend. There were times when Anne’s main preoccupation seemed to be how best to please Sarah.
Now she had hit on a great plan. A Dukedom for Marlborough. It was not difficult to get official sanction for this because it was agreed in the Commons that Marlborough had retrieved the honour of the English nation.
Anne called for Abigail to bring her writing materials that she might be the first to acquaint her dear friend with the good news.
“Your Majesty is happy today,” murmured Abigail.
“Very happy, Hill. I am going to give pleasure to one I love very dearly. But I shall not tell even you in what way because she must be the one to hear it first.”
She sat down at her table and wrote.
“Dear Mr. Freeman deserves all that a rich crown would give, but since there is nothing else at this time, I hope you will give me leave as soon as he comes to make him a Duke. I k
now my dear Mrs. Freeman does not care for things of that kind but …”
Anne paused to think of her dear friend. Duchess Sarah! She was worthy of such a title.
She went on writing, for she always enjoyed writing to Sarah; and when she had finished sent for Abigail to seal the letter; and then gave her instructions.
“See that it is delivered into none but her hands,” she said.
“Lady Marlborough’s, Your Majesty?”
Anne nodded. Lady Marlborough soon to be the Duchess.
Sarah read the letter with elation. Duchess of Marlborough—Marl a Duke. It was wonderful. But … there was no talk of the estates and money they would need to uphold their elevated position. Did not old Morley understand that? There should have been an offer of at least five thousand a year to go with the Dukedom.
She went thoughtfully to the Queen. When she entered Anne looked up hopefully, expecting floods of gratitude. Instead she faced a very subdued Sarah.
“Mrs. Freeman cannot have received my letter.”
“Oh yes. I have received it.”
“You seem … displeased.”
“When I read Mrs. Morley’s letter,” said Sarah slowly, “I let it drop from my hand and for a time I felt as though I had received the news of a death of a dear friend.”
“Mrs. Freeman, I do not understand.”
“My dearest Morley I know wishes to please me. And believe me when honour is paid to Mr. Freeman nothing could please me more. But we have not the wealth to sustain a Dukedom. There. I am a simple woman and I give a simple answer. I do not couch my thoughts in flowery sentiments. So I give you the plain truth. A Dukedom is not for us, Mrs. Morley, because we simply have not wealth for such a title. And I will say this—it is but a matter of precedence—and that bothers me little. I do not care so much that I pass through one door and others of lesser rank through another, I know my good Mrs. Morley thought to please me. But it is difficult for one such as Your Majesty to understand the financial difficulties of others.”
Anne looked as though she would burst into tears.
But Sarah having made her point, asked leave to retire.
Sarah was furious. Anne had of course immediately sought some means of providing an income for the Churchills which would enable them to accept the Dukedom and proposed an annual grant of five thousand pounds which would be taken from Post Office revenues. This she declared was necessary in view of Marlborough’s new title, and as his son would inherit that title in due course the income must be granted to the new Duke’s heirs.
The Government revolted. Marlborough’s services to the nation were appreciated but bestowing hereditary grants on individuals was frowned on; and to avoid an adverse vote Marlborough, now home once more, could only decline the offer of revenue from that source.
Sarah raged and ranted, but John tried in vain to soothe her.
“They are so ungrateful!” she cried. “When I think of all you have done for them. And now for a miserable five thousand …”
She went to the Queen.
“You see, Mrs. Morley, how wise I was to refuse the Dukedom in the first place. I know Mr. Freeman has no wish to accept so called honours when they are so grudgingly given. If he had taken my advice he would never have accepted the title. But now it is done … and here he is—the man who brought honour to his country, a Duke without the means to keep up his rank. A pretty state of affairs! A pretty example of a country’s ingratitude! I said to Mr. Freeman: It is folly to take this from a country who so clearly does not wish to honour you … rather to humiliate you.”
“My dear, dear Mrs. Freeman, this is most distressing. You shall have two thousand from my privy purse. No one shall know of it. It shall be a secret between us.…”
“Mrs. Morley should know that Mrs. Freeman could not easily be persuaded to enter into secret bargains.…”
She could not be comforted, and when she left the Queen was trembling and in tears.
Abigail came to her and bathed her forehead.
“There, Madam.” Anne accepted the brandy. “Would Your Majesty wish me to play a little on the harpsichord?”
“No, Hill. Just sit beside me. Your presence comforts me.”
Abigail took the trembling hand in hers and the Queen smiled at her.
“It seems peaceful now, Hill. Let us talk for a while and later perhaps when I am sleepy you will play me to sleep.”
Sarah stormed back to Marlborough.
“She is ready to pay us two thousand from the privy purse,” she said. “What’s the use of that?”
John shook his head. “We couldn’t take it, Sarah. It could be embarrassing if it leaked out that we were being supplied in this way. But there is something else. I’ve a letter here from Sidney Godolphin. He writes from Newmarket.”
“Newmarket. I should have thought he might have been in London. Here is the Government treating you in this churlish way and he is at Newmarket if you please.”
“Our John is with him.”
“Our John! But why is he not at Cambridge?”
“There’s smallpox in Cambridge.”
Sarah turned pale. “John?”
“He’s all right. Sidney thought it better for him to leave Cambridge and go to stay at Newmarket. The air there is fresh and good. But I was a little uneasy.”
Smallpox! The dreaded scourge. Sarah could not bear to think of it having come near her only son.
“Perhaps he should come home,” she said.
“Sidney says he’s very well. I thought you might write to him and tell him that you are no longer displeased with him.”
“But I am still displeased with him.”
“He wrote to me asking me to plead with you on his behalf.”
“Then he should have written to me himself.”
“Sarah!” Marlborough laid his hand on her arm and gave her that sweet smile which never failed to charm. “I know you love him dearly—as you do the whole family, but could you not show it a little now and then?”
“Are you telling me how to treat my son, John Churchill!”
“Our son,” he reminded her.
She laughed. “We’ll have him home. I do not care that he should be near a pox-laden atmosphere.”
“Write to him and tell him he is forgiven.”
“No. He must write to me first. And what of this matter of our income …”
He laid his hands on her shoulders and drew her towards him.
“That is a matter which will, I doubt not, in time work out to our advantage … my Duchess.”
Anne was determined that her dear Mrs. Freeman should happily accept the new honour and Sarah had no intention of standing in her way. It was certainly gratifying to be Her Grace, and she derived great pleasure from referring to Marl as The Duke.
With the coming of spring he would set out once more on his campaigns and the separations would begin again. “How I wish that you had chosen to become a statesman instead of a soldier!” she would exclaim angrily.
Christmas was just over and young John had written to his father to tell him that he was leaving the Godolphins to return to Cambridge.
“I trust,” said Sarah grimly, “that there he will learn some sense.”
It was in January when she had news from Cambridge.
When she read the letter which was from her son’s tutor she was silent, and those watching her saw the colour drain from her face.
Then she cried: “I am going to Cambridge. At once.”
She stared at her maid who, accustomed to her mistress’s sudden outbursts, was aware that there was something of great importance behind this one.
“My son,” she said slowly, “has the smallpox. My only son,” she repeated.
Abigail was with Anne when she heard the news.
“My poor, poor Mrs. Freeman. So she has gone with all speed to Cambridge. We must pray for her, Hill. If she should lose this beloved child, how she will suffer! I know, Hill. I know full well. I could not bear to
think of what poor Mrs. Freeman will have to suffer if the blow which struck her unfortunate Morley should strike her.”
“Your Majesty is so good to concern yourself.”
“You have never borne a child, Hill. This makes such understanding between us. But we must not think of his dying. While there is hope … But the smallpox. My poor sister died of it. And we were not good friends.… I often think of it, Hill. Oh, the tragedy! But I am forgetting my poor Mrs. Freeman. I want you to do this, Hill. Call my doctors … all of them. I want to send them to Cambridge so that they can give their services to poor little Blandford. We must do everything … simply everything, for I could not bear that what happened to me should happen to my poor Mrs. Freeman.”
Sarah sat by her son’s bedside and wept. He opened his eyes and saw her.
“Papa,” he said. “Papa.”
“He will come to you, my love. He is on his way.”
She thought he understood because he smiled so sweetly and he reminded her poignantly of his father. He would have been another such, she thought; and then angrily: He will be another such.
She would not let him die. But even Sarah could not hold back death.
“He is my son,” she cried. “My only son.”
“Your Grace,” said the doctors. “You should send for the Duke.”
When Marlborough came to Cambridge with all speed, Sarah flung herself at him and burst into loud weeping. “It cannot be. It cannot be. They are saying there is little hope. But only such a short while ago he was strong and well.…”
“Sarah, my beloved, I suffer with you. We must pray for courage. If this terrible tragedy should come to pass we must meet it with resignation.”
“Resignation. This is my son … my only son!”
