Courting Her Highness

by Jean Plaidy

  And so would Abigail Hill be if she allowed herself to dream too much. Robert Harley and she were partners, but the love of power was at the root of their relationship. Power for him. And for me, thought Abigail.

  I must keep my feet on the ground. I must not let Robert Harley dominate me, for if I do I shall be as foolish as Sarah Churchill has become.

  Daniel Defoe was released from prison as a result of Robert Harley’s conversations with the Queen; he was conveying to her that while certain people were in power she would be only a cypher, for that was what they intended. There was no doubt to whom the epithet “Certain People” referred, though as yet Harley had not mentioned the names of Churchill and Godolphin.

  To turn her thoughts from Robert Harley, Abigail began to think increasingly of Samuel Masham. He was as yet a page in the household of the Queen’s husband. But then she was only a chambermaid in that of the Queen. That was what they appeared to be to the undiscerning. But that could be easily changed.

  Lord Masham … Lady Masham? Why not? Had Harley been free, had his interest in her been due to love instead of her peculiar influence with the Queen, she might have been a Duchess. For it was not difficult to imagine Harley a Duke—never Samuel Masham, though.

  But Samuel would do exactly as she wished; there could be many advantages in a marriage with Samuel.

  When she was with Robert Harley she forgot all about Samuel Masham. He talked to her in his caressing way which was full of hidden meanings.

  It was natural at this stage not to state too openly what their intentions were, but there was one major issue and both were very much aware of it.

  Together they were going to bring about the downfall of the Churchills. Harley was going to take the place in the country’s affairs now occupied by the Marlboroughs and their faction; and the power behind the throne which for so long had rested in Sarah was to be Abigail’s.

  THE SUNDERLAND CONTROVERSY

  arah returned to St. James’s and installed herself in her apartments there. From these there was a secret staircase which led down to the Queen’s apartment and which in the old days had delighted them both.

  Anne was pleased to see her; whenever Sarah put in an appearance she always forgot the alarming thoughts which had beset her previously, for such was the power of Sarah’s personality that when she was there Anne still believed that she was the one person in the whole world for whose society she longed more than any other.

  “So, Mrs. Morley,” she was saying, “I shall get my Mary married at last.”

  “She is so young yet, dear Mrs. Freeman.”

  “She is old enough for marriage, that one. I can tell you she has led me a pretty dance. Who would have daughters?” Sarah did not notice how her companion winced, nor did she give a thought to the many miscarriages which had become a pattern of the royal existence. So many disappointments that Anne was losing all hope; but that did not mean she wanted continual references to those who were more fortunate than herself. Didn’t her sad mode of signing letters as “your poor unfortunate Morley” explain her feelings? But Sarah was heedless of the thoughts of others. She was without tact, a failing which she called honesty; but that which she saw as honesty in herself she would call rudeness in others. Sarah cared for no opinion but her own—not even the Queen’s. In Sarah’s opinion Sarah was always right and that applied even when people like Godolphin or even Marlborough himself contradicted her.

  Sarah swept on: “The sooner the marriage takes place the better. It’s an excellent match. Both her father and I will be pleased to welcome Lord Monthermer as a son-in-law. He’ll be the Earl of Montague in due course and the marriage is as good as those of her sisters.”

  “She is only a child.”

  “You deceive yourself, Mrs. Morley. Mary’s no child. She has already found a bridegroom for herself … a most unsuitable one, I can tell you. Of course I soon put an end to that bit of nonsense.”

  “Poor Mary! I suppose she was in love.”

  “In love! My dear Mrs. Morley! In love with a man who had nothing but a poor estate! A fine thing for Marlborough’s daughter.”

  Anne continued to look sad. Sentimental fool! thought Sarah. Why do I have to waste my time with her! What does she ever think of but the cards … and food! Of course she must give Mary a dowry like the others. Marl will be horrified if he has to provide the lot.

  “This is most satisfactory and I shall be glad to see the girl settled. I hope your Majesty approves of the match.”

  “If Mr. and Mrs. Freeman approve so do I. You must allow me to give her a dowry.”

  “You are the most generous friend in the world, Mrs. Morley.”

  “My dearest Mrs. Freeman, you are the best friend in the world to allow your poor unfortunate Morley to take a share in your children’s marriages, since she can have no hope of such personal happiness.”

  “You are so good to Mrs. Freeman.”

  How much? wondered Sarah. Five thousand like the rest?

  Sarah also had another reason for being at Court. Her first grandchild was to be christened and she hoped the Queen would be his godmother.

  Anne wept with joy at the prospect.

  “The next best thing my dear Mrs. Freeman to being a grandmother is to be a godmother.”

  “I had hoped you would think so. Godolphin and Sunderland will be the child’s godfathers.”

  The Queen nodded. She had never liked Sunderland who had voted against dear George’s allowance being increased, and that was something for which she would never forgive him; and since she had become so friendly with dear Mr. Harley she was beginning to find Lord Godolphin rather tiresome.

  “We’re going to call him William,” said Sarah. “His mother has already given him the name of Willigo.”

  “Willigo for William. He’s named after my boy. It’s so charming,” said Anne. “I long to see the dear little creature.”

  So cosy! she thought. It was like the old days when they had talked about their children, when her dear boy had been alive and Sarah’s son too. Poor Mrs. Freeman, she had lost a beloved son, the same as the Queen had; it made such a bond between them; but Sarah was the more fortunate. She had her daughters and now her darling grandchild. Little Willigo!

  The door opened suddenly and Abigail came in; she was smiling and turning, Sarah stared at her in astonishment.

  What an unusual way for a chambermaid to enter the Queen’s presence! No scratching at the door, no humble approach!

  How odd! thought Sarah. How very odd.

  Abigail stopped short, seeing who was with the Queen.

  “You … Your Majesty rang?” she asked.

  Anne looked at the bellrope as though with surprise. “No, Hill,” she said with a pleasant smile, “I didn’t ring.”

  “I ask pardon of Your Majesty and Your Grace.”

  Anne nodded pleasantly and Sarah haughtily inclined her head, while Abigail closed the door.

  Sarah forgot the incident immediately. The manners of the chambermaid were scarcely worthy of her consideration at such a time when she had the marriage of her daughter and the christening of her grandson to occupy her mind.

  Abigail stood outside the door and for once she allowed her features to fall into an expression of hatred. That woman had only to appear and she was immediately delegated to the position of humble chambermaid and poor relation.

  Would it ever be possible to oust the proud Churchill woman from her place—even with the help of Robert Harley?

  During the weeks that followed Abigail began to believe that her fears were justified. Sarah had only to appear and Anne it seemed was ready to forget all past neglect and become her slave.

  Never, it seemed, had Sarah been so powerful. In the past they had differed in their views, Anne being at heart a staunch Tory and Sarah inclining strongly towards the Whigs; but now the Whigs had been successful at the polls and even the Queen was favouring them; and because they knew how much they owed to Sarah they were ready to g
ive her the adulation she expected. Tories such as Robert Harley and Henry St. John sought her favour—outwardly—and it did not occur to her that they had anything but the utmost respect for her, while like so many others, they hoped for her friendship.

  Sarah was more powerful than she had ever been before.

  Harley was watching eagerly. The more powerful she became the more careless she grew. Not once during those days when her ascendancy seemed complete did he despair of sending her hurtling down to failure. He hoped that she would continue in her arrogant blindness for he realized that his greatest ally was Sarah herself.

  The woman was dazzling, brilliant—and a fool.

  Someday, someone was going to carry those slighting remarks about the Queen right back to the Queen. At the moment no one dared … but the time would come.

  In the meantime his friends, the wits and wags of the coffee houses, were playing the part he expected of them, and laughing at the situation; Viceroy Sarah was Queen Sarah now, and sometime their lampoons might reach the Queen.

  “And Anne shall wear the crown but Sarah reign,” they wrote.

  “Churchill shall rise on easy Stuart’s fall

  And Blenheim’s tower shall triumph o’er Whitehall.”

  And then came a chance to discountenance Sarah.

  It was only to be expected that Sarah should believe that the Member of Parliament for St. Albans should be chosen by her, and she selected as Whig candidate Henry Killigrew whom she was certain, with a little persuasion to the electorate from her, would be elected.

  The Tory candidate was a Mr. Gape and Sarah set out to attack him, but in spite of her efforts he was elected, and Henry Killigrew, believing that he could not fail if he had the support of the Duchess of Marlborough, was certain that Gape could only have won through bribery, and promptly accused him of it.

  Gape took the matter to court where his counsel turned the tables by making a public announcement that the Duchess of Marlborough in her support of Killigrew had been guilty of ill practices. This the Duchess poohpoohed with her usual scorn, but when witnesses were brought forward Sarah’s enemies began to chortle with glee.

  Robert Harley called on Abigail and they took a little walk in the gardens of the Palace to discuss this interesting affair.

  “I’ve seen Gape’s counsel,” Harley told Abigail. “This is most illuminating. The Duchess of Marlborough has been ordering members of the electorate to Holywell House to give them little homilies as to how they should vote. You can guess what they were like. More warnings than homilies, ‘If you don’t vote as I tell you it will be the worse for you!’ I’ll swear.”

  “But this is certainly an ill practice.”

  “No doubt of it. We’ll have Madame Sarah taken up for bribery and corruption yet.”

  “She must be quite furious.”

  Harley laid his hand on Abigail’s arm and she lifted her face to his. Sometimes she thought he was fully aware of the effect he had on her. She was fascinated and yet in a way repelled, but the fascination was the strong emotion.

  “You allow her to intimidate you, cousin.”

  “She is an intimidating person.”

  “Don’t forget each day you grow farther and farther from her reach.”

  “I believe she would still have the power to dismiss me … if she should decide to do so.”

  “Then we must make sure she is robbed of that power as soon as possible. This affair might well help to divest her of some. She has been telling the people of St. Albans that Mr. Gape and his kind would unhinge the Government; she has paid one man twenty guineas; unfortunately there was no mention in writing that the gift was in exchange for his help in the election.”

  “She is the most indiscreet woman in the world, but it seems everyone is afraid of her.”

  “It will not always be so, little cousin. This pleases me. Let us hope that she has been even more indiscreet than usual and put something in writing which can be used against her.”

  In spite of Sarah’s indiscretions on that occasion nothing was proved against her; but her enemies—and in particular the Tories—were loud in their condemnation of her.

  And she was as bold as ever. She assured herself that she had done much to procure the Whig support which Marlborough needed to prolong the war. She wrote to the Duke that she wanted more news of what he was doing and assuring him that he could rely on her to look after their interests at home.

  She was truly at the peak of her success; she had tried to turn the Queen towards the Whigs and had succeeded, perhaps because the Tories themselves had helped to arouse Anne’s animosity. They had not taken into account the fact that the Queen who must now seriously begin to think of her successor was more inclined to favour the House of Stuart than that of Hanover. Anne, a sentimentalist at heart, had never ceased to be troubled by the manner in which she had treated her father; her stepbrother was now at St. Germains and what could salve her conscience better than making him her heir; if he would swear to support the Church of England that was all that would be asked of him. She was a Jacobite for reasons of conscience. But the Tories declaring that the Church of England would be in jeopardy if the Stuart was brought back wanted to make advances to Princess Sophia of Hanover and even suggested that she should be invited to pay a visit to England.

  The idea of receiving her in England was repulsive to Anne; and when Nottingham suggested in the House of Lords that this must be done for fear the Queen should live till she did not know what she did, and be like a child in the hands of others, Anne was moved to an anger rare with her. To suggest that she might become a victim of senile decay and to do so in one of her Houses of Parliament was too much to be borne.

  Had not Mrs. Freeman warned her of Nottingham and the Tories? Although she was angry with Nottingham it was such a pleasure to be in agreement with Sarah over politics.

  She wrote to her, for she was very happy to be back on the old terms of friendship when letters frequently passed between them:

  “I believe, dear Mrs. Freeman and I shall not disagree as we have formerly done; for I am sensible of the services these people have done me that you have a good opinion of, and will countenance them, and am thoroughly convinced of the malice and insolence of them that you have always been speaking against.”

  So Sarah was back in high favour; and it seemed clear that although she might stay away from Court, and speak contemptuously of the Queen, all she had to do was graciously return and Anne was delighted to have her.

  Sarah revelled in her position. She would cut short the Queen when she rambled on. “Yes, yes, yes, Madam. It must be so!” and would openly yawn.

  “How that woman bores me!” she cried to Lord Godolphin, and did not care that servants heard her. “I’d as lief be shut up in a dungeon as spend my time listening to her bumbling on.”

  Godolphin would have liked to warn her but of course he dared not. He was very much in awe of her and carried out her instructions without attempting to disagree with her.

  Abigail from the shadows watched in amazement. How could the Queen so forget the dignity due to her rank to accept such conduct! Sarah now performed those tasks which Abigail had been doing for the Queen, although the more menial services of the bedchamber were still left for her to do. To see Sarah hand the Queen her gloves was a revelation. Her dislike for the Queen seemed to be apparent to everyone but Anne. Anne suffered a great deal from gout and dropsy, and Sarah, who was full of health, seemed to find the Queen’s illnesses very distasteful. When the Queen talked of her symptoms—which she loved to do—Sarah would turn away disgusted, and sometimes when she handed her something for which she had asked she would turn her head away as the Queen’s hand touched hers as though, said those who were watching, the Queen had offensive smells.

  The relationship between the Queen and the Duchess was discussed at length in the women’s quarters. Mrs. Abrahal said she was surprised Her Majesty did not send some people packing, that she did. To which Mrs. Danve
rs replied that: Nobody would dare send the Duchess of Marlborough packing … not even God nor the devil.

  Seeing Abigail enter Mrs. Abrahal said: “This puts Hill’s nose out of joint, I’d swear.”

  Mrs. Danvers tittered because, Abigail knew, the nose referred to was too large for the small face it adorned—though adorned was scarcely the right description—and was now, as so often, pink at the tip. Though, she believed they had said of her when they had noticed her rising favour with the Queen and been jealous of it, having it poking where it had no right.

  “In what way?” asked Abigail lightly.

  “Well, no little têtes-à-têtes over the bohea, dear! No little cosy chats with Her Majesty … not now Her Grace is back! They haven’t the time for you now, Mrs. Hill.”

  “It is natural that when Her Grace of Marlborough is at Court she performs the duties which I took over during her absence. My nose suffers not at all from this perfectly natural procedure.”

  Abigail picked up the little dog for which she had been searching and walked calmly out of the room. Mrs. Danvers who considered herself the Duchess’s woman grimaced at Mrs. Abrahal.

  “All the same,” she insisted, “it’s a change she doesn’t like.”

  She was thoughtful. “There was a time,” she went on, “when I thought I ought to mention to Her Grace what a friend Her Majesty was making of that woman. Sometimes I used to think that Abigail Hill rather fancied herself as the Queen’s special favourite. Well, it shows, doesn’t it? Her Grace only has to put her handsome nose in the place and back scuttles Hill to her corner. I needn’t have worried.”

  They both agreed that she need not have worried.

  With Sarah back at Court the pleasant intimacies of the past were lost. Now dressing was a fomality. Every time Anne changed her dress she must be surrounded by women who did the tasks which had been allotted to them in order of precedence. Each garment was passed from hand to hand until it reached that of the Duchess who then handed it to the Queen or put it on for her. It was in these occasions that Sarah was more and more openly showing her disgust, turning away, nose in the air, as the garment passed from her hands to the Queen’s. Every time Anne washed her hands, the page of the backstairs must bring the basin and ewer; then one of the bedchamber women must place it beside the Queen and kneel at the side of the table, and another bedchamber woman must pour the water over the Queen’s hands.