The Queen's Favourites aka Courting Her Highness (v5) (16 page)

“And you consider me worthy to be included?” asked Harley.

“You are a good Tory,” said Godolphin.

“That is a recommendation?” asked Harley. “A Tory today is a Whig tomorrow. One grows dizzy contemplating the turnabout. Why in your own family, my lord Marlborough, you have yourself—staunch Tory. And I have heard that your good lady is inclined to the Whigs; your brother Admiral Churchill is eager to have us all know what a good Tory he is and your son-in-law Sunderland equally anxious to show us he’s a regular Whig of a man. While Lady Marlborough’s own sister, so I’ve heard, is all for the Jacks, and Lady Marlborough herself surely the most intimate friend of Her Majesty ever had.”

Marlborough smiled coolly at Harley. He was known as Robin the Trickster, and one could never be sure what he was at; but he knew well enough that they needed him.

“Good men now and then find it necessary to turn their coats,” said Marlborough.

“I am in absolute agreement with my lord as usual,” replied Harley with a bow.

“Then,” replied Marlborough, “it would give me pleasure if you would visit us at St. Albans. My wife is anxious to make your closer acquaintance.”

Returning to London
from St. Albans Robert Harley was congratulating himself. A triumvirate, he was thinking: Marlborough, Godolphin, Harley. It was well to be allied with the Marlboroughs, and when one met Sarah Churchill one understood why. The Queen was completely hers to command, he had heard; and although he had thought previously that statement a little exaggerated now that he had met the lady he no longer did. What fire and fury! Marlborough was, if not afraid of her, in bondage to her. A handsome woman, and an absolute virago.

Robin the Trickster was amused and intrigued. He was looking forward to travelling along with the Marlboroughs … for a while.

She was arrogant and quite vain. He was a man who knew how to pay a compliment and he had made her believe that he admired her every bit as much as he had intended that she should.

The Marlboroughs were delighted. They had angled for him and they believed they had him in the net. They needed him; they recognized him as a power in the House. And so he was. He had been elected Speaker because he had a greater knowledge of parliamentary procedure than any one living person, and it was understandable that they should want his support. With Marlborough conducting the war and Godolphin and Harley in charge at home, no one could stand against them.

At St. Albans he had been promised a grand appointment. Secretary of State in place of Nottingham whom they had decided must go. Nottingham should certainly go; Harley should decidedly take his place. But in this alliance Harley would be expected to remain contentedly in third place. They did not know Harley, who was already asking himself: What is Marlborough? A soldier with a forceful wife who in some unnatural way has managed to subdue the Queen! What is Godolphin? A timid man, easily disheartened, and obviously in awe of Marlborough’s wife. It seemed as though Madam Sarah ruled the roost. But she should not rule Robert Harley.

He left his house and strolled out into the London streets, passing unnoticed, for his appearance was insignificant, and he was by no means a handsome man; perhaps that was why he yearned to be noticed. His powers of oratory were marred by a stammer which he had overcome to some extent but which made him appear hesitant; his voice was harsh and cold, his manners formal. Yet he could produce the telling phrase and could confound his opponents in debate. He had developed these qualities because of his disabilities; in the same way his vanity had grown as though to give the lie to his lack of good looks. There was one characteristic which dominated him: That was envy. He could not endure to see others succeed. At the moment he was prepared to use the friendship of Marlborough and Godolphin; but he could not quietly stand aside and see the power and the glory pass him by to fall into their hands.

That, he realized, would come later. In the meantime it would be a wise policy to ingratiate himself with the Marlboroughs, and he did not anticipate much difficulty in arranging this. He had summed up Sarah and she, of course, was the important one. He would flatter her; he would appear to bow to her will. As her greatest desire was to rule everyone, that should please her. He did not think he would have any difficulty in walking in step with Madam Sarah … for a while.

She interested him. How he would enjoy going into battle against her! What an interesting situation! But of course one would work skilfully in the dark … right until the moment when it was appropriate to deliver the fatal blow.

Harley was delighted. Life was becoming interesting.

He turned into a coffee house and as he sat down was almost immediately joined by a young man.

“Ha, Harry,” said Harley. “Pray be seated.”

“Master,” replied the young man with a somewhat affected bow, “you have had good news.”

“Do I then betray myself?” asked Harley with a smile.

Henry St. John was an exceptionally handsome man of about twenty-four. Harley had selected him as the most brilliant of the younger politicians and St. John was a willing disciple, immediately recognizing what the patronage of a man in Harley’s position could mean to an ambitious young man; and determined to make the most of it, he never missed an opportunity of sitting at the feet of the master.

“Only to those who know you well, Master.”

“Well, Harry, you are right. I can see the way ahead more clearly than I ever did before. I have recently returned from Holywell near St. Albans.”

“I heard that you were visiting the Marlboroughs.”

“So that is all over the town?”

“Our most brilliant politician—and the Marlboroughs. Who could fail to prick up ears?”

“So there are speculations, eh? Well, we shall see.”

“You are thoughtful. And, I see, in no mood to impart your thoughts.”

“There are thoughts which should be guarded as closely as state secrets.”

“Those sort of thoughts? Then we should indeed expect great events. But you are here in a coffee house where one does not expect to find the greatest statesmen of the day.”

“You are wondering why I am not caressing the bottle, Henry? I am a faithful man, but I was never more faithful to any than I am to Bacchus. Is that what you’re thinking? Oh, my boy, don’t imagine I have swerved. But tonight I have a fancy to look at a certain section of our London scene which I believe merits more attention than it usually receives.”

St. John leaned his elbows on the table and looked intently into his friend’s face.

“Develop the powers of observation, Henry, my boy. Have you ever considered the power of words? Ah, I see you have. A man of your er … intelligence … I almost said genius, Harry; but perhaps that is a word which should not be rashly employed. No word should be rashly employed perhaps. Remember, my dear boy, that this is a discussion on the importance of words. Words! Words! They are more powerful than cannon. Have you ever heard it said that
Lillibullero
won the victory for Dutch William more certainly than his army? In the last few years words have formed a part of our lives. Lampoons … sly verses … street songs … These Harry are the weapons which have made thrones tremble. Just think if Catholic James could have found a scribbler to give the right words to him the Queen might not be on the throne today. Ah, Harry, you smile. I see you think this is one of my discourses. I talk as so many do, for the sake of talking. I am not sure whether I do or not. But tonight when I am in my cups … I shall be sure, for drinking—in my case—clears the head, Harry. You see I am not as other men for which I might say Thank God had not the Pharisee said it before me and been held up as an example of hypocrisy. I am a hypocrite perhaps. Who shall say? And who is wise to say anything of a man until his time has run out. You only judge a man’s life at his death, Harry. Now look at that fellow over there. I am going to invite him to our table.”

St. John was alert. He knew that it was for the purpose of inviting this fellow to the table that Harley had come to the coffee house.

A man of medium height with a sallow complexion and dark hair—he wore no wig—came over to the table.

“Sir,” he said with a bow, “your servant.”

“Be seated,” said Harley. “But first meet a friend, Henry St. John, who is eager to make your acquaintance.”

St. John looked startled, but Harley smiled.

“Harry, this is Daniel Defoe—a literary man. I hope you are acquainted with his work?”

The man turned his eager eyes on St. John who, taking his cue from Harley, said modestly: “It is an omission which I intend to rectify without delay.”

The grey eyes were idealist, the hooked nose and sharp chin betrayed a strength.

What is Harley up to? wondered St. John. But he began to guess.

He was going to use Defoe as he used everyone. Harley was a brilliant schemer; he was not called Robin the Trickster for nothing.

He was going to stand with Marlborough and Godolphin as one of the almighty three, but Harley was not the man to be one of three. He would want to stand alone, supreme.

This band of men, of whom Defoe was one, would be the secret army. They held a more deadly weapon than the generals, but the generals were too foolish to realize this. It was men such as Mr. Harley who were a step ahead of their contemporaries who became the leaders.

Harley had decided to use the hidden weapon against his foes. The Marlboroughs thought they were going to rule the country because of Sarah’s ascendancy over the Queen, but Harley had decided otherwise:
he
was going to stand supreme. And the fact that he had allowed Henry St. John to share this little confidence showed clearly that if St. John cared to attach himself to Harley he could go along with him; St. John cared. He cared very deeply.

So he was excited as he sat in the coffee house listening to talk between one of the country’s leading statesmen and the poor scribbler.

Parting was almost
unendurable for John and Sarah. It was at such times that briefly they forgot ambition. Sarah was unable to control her tears—tears of sorrow were unusual with her, though she occasionally shed tears of rage. To let him go, her beloved John, into danger! So many hazards he would face; and he had so many enemies! What if she were never to see him again? Nothing then would be worthwhile. As for John, he had wanted to go to war for only at war could he prove his genius. He was a soldier first and foremost; he believed that this war was necessary to England. And yet what would he not have given at that moment of parting to leave everything and go back with Sarah to St. Albans.

He was worried about young John who was at cross purposes with his mother. Henrietta, now that she had escaped from the family circle by marriage, was as her mother said “saucy.” The only member of the family with whom Sarah really lived on amicable terms was Anne—and this was solely because Anne had a sweet disposition and it was impossible to quarrel with her.

He wanted to be in the circle of his family; he wished momentarily that he and Sarah could have abandoned ambition, the quest for wealth and fame … everything … to go and spend their days quietly at St. Albans … together … all through the days and nights.

Oddly enough he knew as they faced each other that Sarah felt the same—his wild tempestuous Sarah who could be tender only to him, and then rarely so. Yet, he told himself, for him her frequent anger made her occasional sweetness all the more precious.

She clung to him now. “Oh, John,” she whispered, “there’ll be dangers over there.”

“And here there’ll be dangers too. You will have to be careful of your behaviour, my love, for although I go to war with a ruthless enemy you stay behind in a country of tigers and wolves.”

Sarah’s eyes glinted momentarily. “I’d like to see them attack me. Just let them try.”

“They’ll try, Sarah. They’ll never cease to try.”

“I shall be ready for them. Now that I have got young Abigail Hill to take over some of the more unpleasant duties I have more time for important affairs. I’m thankful for that girl, John. She does her task well. And she is respectful and grateful.”