Courting Her Highness Part 46

"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 G.o.d'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 d.u.c.h.ess 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 n.o.body-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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

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 d.u.c.h.ess of Marlborough does not lightly take insults even if her husband does. I'll have those chimney-pieces."

"You will not."

Sarah stopped her tirade to stare at him.

"What?" she cried.

"I said you will take nothing more from the Palace."

"I have sworn to have those chimney-pieces."

"I have sworn that you will not."

She was silent and he went on: "Sarah, for your own sake ... for both our sakes ... be calm ... be dignified. We are on the edge of disaster. For G.o.d's sake don't send us hurtling down to utter destruction."

She looked at him and saw the pain in his eyes, the weariness of anxiety.

Then she threw herself at him and burst into tempestuous weeping. He led her to a couch and they sat there together until he had calmed and comforted her.

Abigail came to the Queen to tell her that Lady Marlborough had removed herself and her belongings from the palace.

"For ever," declared Anne. "She shall never come back."

"Your Majesty is now rid of a nuisance."

"Oh, Masham, how relieved I am! I cannot tell you what a threat that woman has been to me."

"A fury, Madam, as they call her in the lampoons. She leaves much damage behind her."

Abigail told the Queen of the dismantled apartments. "The very locks have gone! She bade her servants remove them."

"Oh, what a wild woman she is!" cried Anne.

"But she has gone, Your Majesty. You need never see her again."

"Nor shall I. But to defame the palace! And when I think of all the money we are spending to build a palace for her and her husband. The cost of Blenheim is terrifying, Masham ... quite terrifying."

"It seems incongruous, Madam. You are supplying money to build her a palace while she is destroying yours."

"It is quite incongruous. I have made up my mind. There shall be no more money for Blenheim. I shall build no house for the d.u.c.h.ess of Marlborough while she is pulling mine down."

These were indeed dark days for the Marlboroughs. Sarah deprived of her offices; Marlborough uncertain of what support he would receive from the Government; and Blenheim Palace which was to have been presented to them by the Queen and a grateful nation unfinished and the work on it stopped by royal command.

DISGRACE AND DEPARTURE.

he Queen was dozing in her chair when Abigail told her that the Abbe Guiscard was waiting to see her.

"I will see him, Masham," said Anne, smiling. "He is such a brave man, and we must show how pleased we are to receive those who desert Catholicism for our Faith."

Abigail brought the Abbe to the Queen and retired into an ante-room where she could hear all that took place between the Queen and her visitor-a long-standing habit of Abigail's.

Anne, peering myopically at her visitor, did not notice how wild his eyes were and how his lips twitched. She saw a brave Frenchman forced to leave his native country on account of his religion. He had impressed certain people and as a result had been given the command of one of the regiments abroad and had committed himself with valour-so rumour said-at Almanza.

Declaring that such men should receive encouragement in England Anne had arranged that he should receive a pension of four hundred pounds a year. Guiscard, in London, had been taken up by society and gave hair-raising accounts of military adventures in which he was always the central figure. Many of these had been recounted to Anne and it was for this reason that she had been willing to grant the interview.

As soon as he was alone with the Queen, Guiscard became disrespectful.

"I am offered a pension of four hundred pounds a year," he said in a loud voice. "How do you think a man such as I can live on such a pittance?"

Having expected a display of grat.i.tude for her beneficence Anne was astounded, but before she could answer, Guiscard continued that he had thought it would be worth his while to come to England where he had expected to receive better treatment than he had. He might have stayed in France and been paid better for his services.

"The interview is over," Anne told him coolly. "You may retire."

"But I have not finished," cried Guiscard. "I tell you this: I'll not accept your miserable four hundred a year. I shall give my services to those who are prepared to pay what they are worth." He rose and stood towering over the Queen who, her feet swathed in bandages, was unable to move.