by Jean Plaidy
“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 Londo
n 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 mealy-mouthed 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—wr
itten 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.”
SARAH IN THE DEATH CHAMBER
he 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.
