The Queen's Favourites aka Courting Her Highness (v5) (54 page)

Marlborough was uncertain of that, but nevertheless he obeyed Sarah and presented himself at the palace to ask for an audience.

This was granted, but when he produced Sarah’s letter the Queen said that she did not wish to read any communication from the Duchess.

“I beg of Your Majesty to read this letter,” said the Duke, kneeling and looking entreatingly up at her. Anne shook her head sadly. He was so handsome, and he at least had always been so modest, and in the old days she had thought Mr. Freeman to be one of the most charming men she had ever met. Mr. Morley had a high opinion of him too. What happy days they had been! But even then of course
Mrs
. Freeman had been overbearing; she had dictated the way they should go. Sometimes when she felt weakened by the gout and dropsy Anne would wake in the night from dreams about her father; she would imagine he upbraided her for her part in his downfall and in such dreams Sarah was always beside her, urging her on.

No, she did not want to think of the past; she would not read Sarah’s letter.

“Madam,” said the Duke, “if you will retain the Duchess until such a time as you will have no need of my services, this will save her much pain. I hope that the war will be over within the next year and then we could both retire together.”

“I cannot change my resolution,” said Anne firmly.

“The Duchess deeply regrets any uneasiness she caused Your Majesty and longs for a chance to revive that love you once had for her. She has sworn that if you will give her another chance she will serve you in all humility and endeavour to make up for any pain she may have caused you.”

Anne was silent.

“I beg you read the letter,” he implored.

She did so, but when she had finished it, she was silent.

“Your Majesty is moved to some tenderness I see. I know that you will wish to put an end to the anguish which the Duchess now suffers.”

“I cannot change my resolution,” repeated Anne.

The Duke sighed, exerting all his charm in his endeavours to move her, but she only said: “The keys must be returned to me within three days.”

“Within three days, Your Majesty. I pray you give the Duchess ten days that the affair may be settled more discreetly.”

“No,” said the Queen, “there has been too much delay. The keys must be returned to me within two days.”

“Two days … but Your Majesty said three.”

“Two days,” repeated Anne firmly. “I cannot alter my resolution.”

There was nothing to be done but return to Sarah to tell her of his failure.

Marlborough faced his
wife.

“Well?” she demanded, although his expression betrayed how the interview had gone and there was no need to ask.

“No use,” he said.

“She read my letter?”

“Yes, and remained adamant.”

“You should have talked to her.”

“I did.”

“Crawling at her feet, I doubt not.”

“Behaving in a manner best calculated to soften her, and at least I induced her to read the letter which she refused to do at first.”

“You allow her to treat you like a servant!”

“We are her servants.”

“Bah! That fat fool! If I could get back I would show her that I will not take such treatment from her.”

“That is precisely what you have done and why we are in this position now.”

“So I am to blame?”

“Can you suggest who else?”

“Yes, that disagreeable woman … with her filthy little dogs, her doting chambermaid, cards, her chocolates and her drivelling conversation. I cannot tell you what I endured from her. I was nearly driven mad by her inanities. And now … look at the way I am treated!”

“Sarah, for God’s sake be calm. You have to give up the keys.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If you had talked to her.…”

“She could not be talked to. Her mind was made up. She kept repeating that she could not change her resolution.”

“The old parrot!”

“Sarah. Accept this. You have to give up the keys. She refuses to discuss any further business with me until those keys are in her hands. Unless you give them back I will have no position either.”

Sarah tore the keys from her waist, where she always wore them. Two golden keys, symbols of those coveted posts: Groom of the Stole and Mistress of the Privy Purse. She had held those offices for a long time and now they were lost.

She could have burst into tears.

To relieve her feelings she threw the keys at her husband and they struck his head before falling to the floor.

He picked them up quickly before Sarah could change her mind; and he lost no time in delivering them to the Queen.

Anne looked at
the two golden keys—the symbol of release. Never would she allow herself to become the slave of another as she had with Sarah Churchill. Not even dearest Masham, although she knew full well that Abigail would never presume to rule her.

She was devoted to Masham more than to any other living person, but she was also fond of the Duchess of Somerset. There was a similarity between them; they both had the same colour hair. Some might call it carroty, but Anne found it delightful. She had also been fond of Lady Somerset ever since she had lent her Syon House when she had had nowhere to go during one of her quarrels with her brother-in-law William of Orange; she recalled even now how William had tried to prevent Lady Somerset’s lending her the house and how both the Duke and his wife had insisted that she have it. They had been true friends then—and she would never forget it.

But Abigail was more necessary to her than anyone on earth. She juggled the keys, smiling to herself at the pleasure she was going to bestow.

“Mrs. Masham.”

Abigail started from her chair and stared at the man who had come into the room. He rocked a little uncertainly on his heels and his eyes were glazed.

“Mr. Harley.”

She thought: He is getting careless. His coat was spotted; perhaps he had just come from carousing with the literary men who were glad to work for him in exchange for the chance to call themselves his friends.

He was breathing fumes of wine at her.

“Mr. Harley,” she went on coolly, “have you just come from the tavern?”

“Nay, Madam, from Her Majesty.”

He was smiling at her almost insolently, as though he were reminding her that although she might give herself airs with others she must not do so with him.

Resentment flared up in her. She found him attractive—this adventurer in the political jungle. Now she knew that when she had served the Marlboroughs in the house at St. Albans she had envied Sarah, not so much her position but the adoration she had aroused in a man like Marlborough. That was what she had wanted. Samuel was no Marlborough; but Harley might have been. Harley was a brilliant politician … but a drinker. Together they could have been supreme—as the Marlboroughs had planned to be—for she would never have lost her place as Sarah had. She would have known how to lead her man along to greatness. But instead she had Samuel—pleasant, mild, unexciting Samuel; while Harley—the first minister—was merely amused that she—an insignificant nobody—had been of use to him. Now he no longer needed her, for he had reached his goal.

The thought occurred to her then that he would have to fight as hard to keep his place as he had to attain it, and therefore should curb his insolence.

“Mr. Harley,” she said, “you have been drinking.”

“Mrs. Masham,” he replied, “I have also been breathing.”

“The latter is necessary, the former scarcely so.”

“What! Do you understand me so little? The last is as necessary as the first.”

“It is even more necessary to hide the fact.”

“My guardian angel!” He laughed. “And here I have a present for a good girl.” He held up a golden key.

She stared at it.

“The Privy Purse for you. The Stole goes to Carrots Somerset.”

“The Privy Purse!” echoed Abigail.

“By far the most important post. ‘Please tell Mrs. Masham that I wish her to have it.’ So spake Her Majesty.”

She held out her hand to take it, but he still retained it, mocking her with his eyes. Then he slipped it inside her bodice so that it rested between her breasts.

Yes, he was certainly slightly intoxicated.

She watched him turn and walk away. He was not as respectful as he had once been. Surely he was not the brilliant student of human nature she had believed him to be. Did he not realize that if he wished to hold his place he should be very careful to show the utmost respect to Abigail Masham—now Keeper of Her Majesty’s Privy Purse.

Sarah was furious
. Dismissed from offices which were now in the hands of her greatest enemies! Ordered to remove herself from her rooms at the Palace which would now belong to someone else!

Very well, she would remove herself.

She went to St. James’s Palace and took with her several of her servants.

“Dismantle those rooms,” she ordered. “Take everything … the mirrors from the walls and the locks from the doors.”

Her servants were bewildered by these orders but they knew better than to disobey.

They took the locks from the doors and Sarah declared that she would have the chimney-pieces in time.

Back to Marlborough House went Sarah, laughing exultantly as she thought of those rooms, the doors that would not even shut, the walls denuded of their mirrors.

“Wait … wait until I get the chimney-pieces,” she promised herself.

Marlborough seeing what she had done was aghast.

“This is folly, Sarah,” he warned.

“Folly! You think I should meekly stand aside and allow them to insult me. I am told to go … so I will go … and I will take what belongs to me with me. Do not think this is all. I shall send back and have the very chimney-pieces brought to me.”

“No, Sarah, no.”

“I tell you, I will.”

“Sarah, are you mad?”

“Mad I may be, but at least I am not a coward.”

“This was a foolish thing to do.”

“Foolish! To show the world how ill I have been used! I would have everyone know that the Duchess of Marlborough does not lightly take insults even if her husband does. I’ll have those chimney-pieces.”