Part 14 (2/2)

Anne was determined that her dear Mrs. Freeman should happily accept the new honour and Sarah had no intention of standing in her way. It was certainly gratifying to be Her Grace, and she derived great pleasure from referring to Marl as The Duke.

With the coming of spring he would set out once more on his campaigns and the separations would begin again. ”How I wish that you had chosen to become a statesman instead of a soldier!” she would exclaim angrily.

Christmas was just over and young John had written to his father to tell him that he was leaving the G.o.dolphins to return to Cambridge.

”I trust,” said Sarah grimly, ”that there he will learn some sense.”

It was in January when she had news from Cambridge.

When she read the letter which was from her son's tutor she was silent, and those watching her saw the colour drain from her face.

Then she cried: ”I am going to Cambridge. At once.”

She stared at her maid who, accustomed to her mistress's sudden outbursts, was aware that there was something of great importance behind this one.

”My son,” she said slowly, ”has the smallpox. My only son,” she repeated.

Abigail was with Anne when she heard the news.

”My poor, poor Mrs. Freeman. So she has gone with all speed to Cambridge. We must pray for her, Hill. If she should lose this beloved child, how she will suffer! I know, Hill. I know full well. I could not bear to think of what poor Mrs. Freeman will have to suffer if the blow which struck her unfortunate Morley should strike her.”

”Your Majesty is so good to concern yourself.”

”You have never borne a child, Hill. This makes such understanding between us. But we must not think of his dying. While there is hope ... But the smallpox. My poor sister died of it. And we were not good friends.... I often think of it, Hill. Oh, the tragedy! But I am forgetting my poor Mrs. Freeman. I want you to do this, Hill. Call my doctors ... all of them. I want to send them to Cambridge so that they can give their services to poor little Blandford. We must do everything ... simply everything, for I could not bear that what happened to me should happen to my poor Mrs. Freeman.”

Sarah sat by her son's bedside and wept. He opened his eyes and saw her.

”Papa,” he said. ”Papa.”

”He will come to you, my love. He is on his way.”

She thought he understood because he smiled so sweetly and he reminded her poignantly of his father. He would have been another such, she thought; and then angrily: He will be another such.

She would not let him die. But even Sarah could not hold back death.

”He is my son,” she cried. ”My only son.”

”Your Grace,” said the doctors. ”You should send for the Duke.”

When Marlborough came to Cambridge with all speed, Sarah flung herself at him and burst into loud weeping. ”It cannot be. It cannot be. They are saying there is little hope. But only such a short while ago he was strong and well....”

”Sarah, my beloved, I suffer with you. We must pray for courage. If this terrible tragedy should come to pa.s.s we must meet it with resignation.”

”Resignation. This is my son ... my only son!”

He did not remind her that the boy was his son too. He was wonderfully gentle and she clung to him in her despair which, even at such a time, was tempered by rage. What right had death to threaten her son-her only son who would one day have been the Duke of Marlborough?

She was suddenly overcome by fear. ”John, you must take care. You must not go near him. There could be an even greater blow than this.”

She looked into his face and he saw the fear there and he marvelled that she of whom it had been said she cared for neither G.o.d nor man could care so much for him.

He turned away; his emotions were betraying him.

John Churchill, sixteen-year-old Lord Blandford, died at Cambridge and was buried in King's College Chapel.

Sarah was bewildered by her grief and astonished all by her quietness. She and the Duke went to their home in St. Albans and remained quietly there. John was the only one who could make any attempt to comfort Sarah and he must soon make preparations to join his army which had been delayed by the death of his son.

Sarah wandered from room to room. She could not believe that young John was dead. It was so short a time since he was pleading to become a soldier.

She who had never attempted to control her rage and arrogance, now could not control her grief. She would throw herself on to her bed and sob so wildly that it was feared she would injure her health. If only there had been someone on whom she could have vented her wrath she would have felt better. But how could she shake her fist and insult Providence; how could she warn Death that she would have her revenge on him for flouting Sarah Churchill's wishes.

”My dearest,” soothed the Duke, ”we will have another son.”

”He is dead ... he is dead ... he is dead.... And soon you will go from me.”

”I shall be back with you soon.” She clung to him, weeping bitterly.

Her beautiful complexion was blotched with tears; her blue eyes once so bold and flas.h.i.+ng were red and swollen with so much crying.

The servants said: ”She will lose her reason if she goes on giving way to grief in this way.”

The Queen who had heard the news immediately wrote to express the sympathy of Mrs. Freeman's poor unfortunate faithful Morley. ”Christ Jesus comfort and support you under this terrible affliction, and it is His Mercy alone that can do it.”

When Sarah read the letter she threw it from her.

”Poor unfortunate Morley!” she cried. ”Now I suppose we must sit together mingling our maudlin memories. Does she compare that big-headed boy of hers with my Blandford.”

The Duke suppressed the impulse to restrain her. Let her rant against the Queen. At least it had turned her thoughts from her son's death.

She hated her relations.h.i.+p with the Queen; she hated the cloying affection, the protestations of fidelity and devotion. Yet, it was due to the Queen's love for Sarah that they had come so far.

When Sarah was calmer he must warn her of her att.i.tude towards the Queen. He could understand how she found Anne a bore, how she disliked making a show of affection she could not feel, but the Queen's approval was necessary to any ambitious man or woman.

But at the moment let her rage against the Queen. It was an outlet for her grief.

And from that moment it seemed that Sarah grew a little more resigned.

KING'S EVIL

he Court was peaceful without Sarah; and peace was what Anne really enjoyed. She had never greatly cared for b.a.l.l.s and banquets. She was too infirm to dance; so was George; and as for banquets-one enjoyed food, but more so when it was eaten comfortably in one's own apartments. Of course it was not always possible to eat in comfort. There must be state occasions; one must eat in public. But when she remembered the Court of her uncle Charles II she realized how different was her own. William had set the mode in Courts which could hardly be called by the name. He had spent as much time as was possible in more or less retirement at Hampton or Kensington, making gardens and superintending building; and had only come up to London for council meetings when absolutely necessary. But the people had not liked William; and whenever he had appeared he had never added to the gaiety of the occasion. They had never cheered him and even now drank toasts to The Little Gentleman in Black Velvet. It was different with herself. They knew that she was a martyr to the gout and the dropsy; they knew that she had had to be carried to her coronation; but they had never heard scandal about her private life. They saw her with the Prince and to see them together was to know how devoted they were to each other. The Prince took no mistresses; the Queen took no lovers. Even William had had one mistress and there had been a mild scandal about Mary and Shrewsbury. But Queen Anne and her consort remained the perfect example of conjugal bliss.

Sovereigns set manners. There had never been a more profligate period than that of Charles II. Why? Because he made no secret of the mistresses, of whom he kept many at a time; he would saunter through St. James's Park with them and his dogs and acknowledge the greetings of the pa.s.sers-by as he did so. The whole of London speculated as to which was most important to his comfort; and the names of Cleveland, Portsmouth, Mancini, Moll Davies and Nell Gwyn were on every tongue.

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