Part 9 (1/2)
”Warming-pan babies! Who ever heard of such a thing!” cried Sarah gleefully. ”The man is in his dotage, and if ever I saw a fellow with one foot in the grave that man is Dutch William.”
It was a marvel to everyone that Sarah Churchill was not sent to the Tower. She must have uttered twenty treasonable statements a day. The King loathed her, but was afraid of offending the people if he attempted to interfere with Anne's freedom, so she remained.
It was noticed that her manner towards Anne was becoming more overbearing; but since Anne voiced no objection it was presumed that the Princess accepted her friend as she was. But Anne herself was thoughtful. She liked to talk to Abigail Hill when they were alone together; she had discovered the pleasure of talking instead of listening, which was what one was obliged to do with Sarah. Abigail rarely offered an opinion unless it was pressed out of her; and then it was not to be despised. But what was so comforting was to be able to talk as though thinking aloud, and to have her murmuring a.s.sent, never contradicting.
Anne was becoming more and more addicted to these monologues and looked forward to the time when they should be alone and she might indulge in them.
When news of her father's death reached her she was glad to talk of it to Abigail. Sarah was so impatient if she mentioned it to her; and the matter was so much on the Princess's conscience that she had to talk of it to someone. She went into mourning; and wept a little. She knew that he had wanted her to stand aside for her half brother. This distressed her; and although she had no intention of confiding her true feelings to a chambermaid, she liked to talk to Abigail who never probed into her innermost thoughts or tried to trap her into some admission she would regret later.
”Of course, Hill,” she mused, ”the King invited that boy over here and his father would not allow him to come. I don't blame him ... after what William did to him.”
”No, Madam, no one could blame him.”
”So now that he will not come there can be no doubt of my accession. And perhaps soon, for I declare William looks most grievously ill.... His asthma is quite terrifying, Hill ... or it would be if one were fond of him, which it is quite ... quite impossible to be. You understand that?”
”Oh yes, Madam.”
”And then he has haemorrhoids ... a most distressing complaint, Hill, which makes riding so painful for him, although it would be good for his asthma. He spits blood and I have never heard anyone lived long with that, have you, Hill?”
”Never, Madam.”
”Yet he has been doing it for years and still he goes on. Then he has this swelling in the legs. Dropsy, I should think. And Dr. Radcliffe was dismissed for being a little too frank about that. Yet he goes on. But one thing I know, Hill: he will not go on for ever and when he does die, Hill, and that boy is not here ... but a Catholic in France ... it will be my turn. Your mistress will be Queen of England. I often think about it and I am sometimes afraid that I shall not be a good Queen because I am not very clever, I fear, Hill. I wish that I were. I wanted children very much. I believe I was meant to be a mother. I cannot tell you, Hill, even though I know you understand me as few do ... but even you cannot know what the loss of my boy meant to me. I should have been happy if all my children had lived. What a large family I should have, Hill, and the Prince says there is no reason why we should not have many more. A big family ... yet. You see, he would be such a good father to them. The Prince is a kind, indulgent man, Hill. Never allow anyone to tell you otherwise. But sometimes I think that if G.o.d is to continue denying me children of my body He has a reason and it came to me last night, Hill, that I shall be the Mother of my people. When I see the crowds and they cheer me, I think they love me ... more than they love William-but then of course they do not love him at all. I think they love me more than they loved my father. They see me as the Mother. Hill, if I am ever Queen of England I want to be a good Queen.”
”Your Highness will be a great Queen.”
”But I am a little ignorant, I fear. I never did my lessons as well as my sister Mary did. I would always make excuses. My eyes, you know, always troubled me and I would use that as an excuse not to study. I fear we were over-indulged as children. Perhaps we should have been forced to learn. Perhaps it is not too late.”
”It is never too late, they say, Madam.”
”You are right, Hill. I shall start preparing myself now. I shall study history because that is a subject above all others that a ruler should be conversant with. Tomorrow, Hill, you will bring me history books and I shall commence my studies.”
Abigail did as she was told and when Sarah came in and saw what was happening, she snorted her disgust. There was no need for Mrs. Morley to disturb herself. Marlborough would provide her with all the knowledge and advice she needed.
But Anne plodded on; she studied for a week or so, but confessed to Abigail that she found it all very dull and it really did give her headaches.
Abigail's soothing fingers, ma.s.saging the brow, charmed away the headaches; and it was so much pleasanter to talk than to read.
”Sometimes I think,” said Anne, ”that it is unwise to live in the past. Modern problems need modern solutions. Do you think that is right, Hill?”
”I am sure you are right, Madam.”
”Then take away these books, and bring out the cards. Call some of the others. I have a mind for a game.”
William was thoughtful as he rode in Bushey Park on his favourite mount, Sorrel. He was scarcely ever in London at this time, although occasionally he left Hampton for Kensington Palace to attend a meeting of the Council; but he was always glad to return. Sometimes he felt that it was only the need to prosecute the war in Europe which kept him going. He felt death very near at times. But there was comfort in the saddle, as there had been all his life; it was only when he was in the country that he could breathe with ease; but even riding was becoming exhausting.
Riding Sorrel, he wondered whether the horse was aware of the change of masters. Did he ever remember the man who had once ridden him? Sorrel had belonged to Sir John Fenwick, whose goods William had confiscated when Fenwick had been executed for treason. The most precious item had been this Sorrel, who had become William's favourite companion. Horses grew to know their masters; what did Sorrel think of the change? Whimsical thoughts rarely came to William; he was a man of sound common sense; yet on this day he was thoughtful.
Fenwick had been a Jacobite and a plotter, a man who was determined to make trouble; and he had made it. Marlborough's name had been mentioned in connection with Fenwick, and William wondered how deeply the Earl had been involved. One could never be sure with Marlborough; there was a man whom he would never trust, but whom he dared not banish.
What an uneasy reign his had been! Far better, he sometimes thought, if he had remained in Holland. He remembered happier days there, when he had subdued Mary and taken his troubles to Elizabeth Villiers, and planned the building of his beautiful Dutch Palaces. The people of Holland had loved their Stadtholder; they had cheered him when he rode through their towns and compared him with his great ancestor William the Silent who had delivered them from the cruelty of the Spaniard.
”Why, Sorrel, was I not content with my own country?” he murmured. He often talked to Sorrel, imagining the horse sympathized with him. He would never have done so within the hearing of any living person; but he fancied there was a sympathy between Sorrel and himself. ”Why did I have to come to this land and rule it? It was a desire in me, Sorrel, which I could not suppress. It was because the midwife saw those three crowns at my birth. Suppose she had not seen them, would I have schemed and plotted, would I have taken the crown from James? Mary had no wish to do so. How reluctantly she came! How she used to attempt to defend her father in those early days; and how angry she made me! If I had not believed that I was destined to possess three crowns should I be in Holland now; should I be happier than I have been?”
He was not sure. What was happiness? He had never believed it to be the right of human beings to possess it. Such a belief would be in opposition to his puritanical outlook.
”No, Sorrel,” he said. ”It was predestined. It had to be. But is that the more comforting doctrine? What has to be, is. Then no blame attaches to the individual.”
Happiness, he thought. When have I ever been happy? With Elizabeth? But then there was always the guilt. With those dear friends Bentinck and Keppel? With Mary?
”No, I was never meant to be happy, Sorrel. I think that perhaps I am more contented on my lonely rides with you than at any other time.”
He turned towards the Palace. He could see it now-the magnificent walls to which he had given a flavour of Holland. Hampton grew more and more Dutch each day.
”Come, Sorrel,” he said.
Sorrel broke into a gallop; and William remembered nothing more until some time after. Then he learned that Sorrel had trodden on a molehill.
He was in great pain, and when his physician was brought to him it was discovered that his right collar bone was broken.
The King was dying. The King was recovering. He was at Hampton. He was at Kensington.
The Jacobites were rejoicing and drinking to the mole who had made the hill which had thrown William's horse-a toast to the Gentleman in Black Velvet.
”He was riding Sorrel,” it was whispered. ”Sir John Fenwick's horse.” And they remembered the day when Sir John had been beheaded on Tower Hill.
William had sentenced Sir John to death and Sir John's favourite horse had not forgotten. It seemed significant.
Many people were calling on the Princess Anne. Some, who had recently neglected her, now came to pay their respects. Sarah Churchill was with her; she could not bear to tear herself from her dear friend's side. This meant that Abigail Hill was almost completely banished, for naturally Sarah did not seek to share her mistress with a chambermaid.
But William was recovering. He declared it was nothing more than a broken collar bone and he would not remain at Hampton, but set out for Kensington, it being imperative, he said, that he should attend the meeting of his council.
The Bill for the attainder of James Stuart, the so-called Prince of Wales, which had been decided on when James had refused to allow him to come to England as William's adopted son, had not been signed; and this was something which he declared he must put into effect, for if he did not, on his death, that boy would be proclaimed King; in fact the King of France, who had already acknowledged him as Prince of Wales, would most certainly bestow on him the t.i.tle of James III.
But when William arrived at Kensington he was very ill, for the bones which had been set at Hampton needed re-setting. Nor was that all. The shock of the fall, in addition to his habitual ailments, was too much for his frail const.i.tution.
Yet he was determined to sign the attainder and had it brought to him. It was unfortunate that at the very moment when the doc.u.ment was laid before him he was attacked by a spasm which made it quite impossible for him to put his pen to the paper. The Jacobites declared this was a sign that G.o.d refused to let him sign the doc.u.ment against the true Prince of Wales.
But there were many who had no wish to call the boy their King; they had decided that Anne should be their Queen. There was no doubt that she was the daughter of James II and she was a staunch Protestant.
William was dying. This time there could be no doubt. Few would mourn him; everyone was looking towards St. James's Palace where the Princess Anne, with her friend Sarah Churchill beside her, was waiting for the news that she was Queen of England.
QUEEN ANNE.
he sun shone brilliantly on the March morning. All through the day ministers of the realm were making their way to the presence chamber in the Palace of St. James, jostling each other to be first to kiss the hand and swear allegiance to the new Queen.
Anne had a.s.sumed a new dignity; she had, after all, been born near the throne and had known for many years that there was a possibility that this day would come. Sarah never left her side; her excitement, though suppressed, showed itself in her s.h.i.+ning eyes and her very gestures. She wanted those who entered the presence chamber to be aware of in what relations.h.i.+p Sarah Churchill stood to the Queen.