Part 21 (2/2)
August 13th, 1704.
”I have not time to say more, but to beg you will give my duty to the Queen and let her know her Army has had a glorious victory. Monsieur Talland and two other Generals are in my coach and I am following the rest: the bearer, my aide-de-camp Colonel Parke, will give her an account of what has pa.s.sed. I shall do it in a day or two by another more at large.
Marlborough.”
Sarah read the note through and read it through again. No loving message. No word of tenderness. Then she realized that the battle had just been over when he had written that note-it was scrawled on a bill of tavern expenses-and that he had bidden Colonel Parke ride with all speed to her. It had taken a week for the Colonel to reach her.
”The Duke has been victorious,” she cried.
”Yes, Madam, and he wrote first to you. He spread the only paper he could lay hands on on his saddle and wrote. Then he said: 'Carry that to the d.u.c.h.ess with all speed.' ”
”To me first ...” she said. ”Tell me the name of this battle.”
”It was the battle of Blenheim, Your Grace, and it is one of the greatest victories of all time.”
”Blenheim,” she repeated. ”Now,” she went on briskly. ”This note must be carried to the Queen with all speed. You must take it, Colonel Parke. But stay a short while for refreshment. You need it. Then be off.”
”Thank you, Your Grace.”
Sarah herself ordered the refreshment and was with the Colonel while he ate and drank, plying him with questions.
And all the time she was thinking, ”A great victory. And I am the first to receive the news. This will be a slap in the face for all our enemies. This will show Mrs. Morley and the rest that they had better take care next time before they revile the Duke of Marlborough and his d.u.c.h.ess.”
The Queen was in her boudoir at Windsor-the polygonal room in the turret over the Norman gateway-with Abigail in attendance.
Anne was in a silent mood, thinking of the disagreement of her ministers and Marlborough. It was most disturbing. Abigail had brought her her favourite bohea tea and ratifia biscuits, but she could not drive from her mind the memory of discord. Mr. Freeman was determined to have his way and the ministers were determined to have theirs ... and that meant strife and great trouble on the Continent.
A scratching at the door. Silent-footed Hill was there.
”Her Majesty is resting....”
”This is a messenger from the d.u.c.h.ess of Marlborough. She says he is to be taken to Her Majesty without delay.”
”Who is it, Hill?”
”A messenger from the d.u.c.h.ess.”
”Bring him in then.”
So he came and bowed to her and put into her hands the tavern bill on which was the first news of the victory at Blenheim.
”A great victory, Madam. The Duke himself says that it is a decisive battle and that it is the greatest victory of his career.”
”My dear Colonel, you have ridden far. Hill, bring some bohea for the Colonel. But perhaps you would prefer something a little stronger. Now tell me everything.”
The Colonel told, and as he did so Anne glowed with pride and pleasure.
”He was justified in his action,” she murmured. ”I am so pleased. He is the greatest general in the whole world and he works for me. My dear Colonel, how can I tell you how happy this has made us?”
”This will make all England happy, Your Majesty.”
”And rightly so. We will have the Duke's note copied and circulated in thousands throughout the City. I do not want this wonderful news withheld a moment longer than it need be. And you, my dear Colonel, shall have your reward of five hundred pounds for being the bearer of such news. I shall never be more glad to see a messenger so rewarded.”
”If you please, Your Majesty, I should prefer a portrait of yourself.”
”My dear Colonel,” laughed Anne, ”your request shall be granted.”
The next day Colonel Parke received a miniature of the Queen set with diamonds; and as Anne realized that this victory was indeed the greatest of her reign she added a thousand pounds to the miniature, that the bearer of such news might be doubly rewarded.
Sarah, flushed with triumph, treasuring the fact that she had been the first person in the country to hear of the victory at Blenheim-even before the Queen-came hurrying down to Windsor. There she took triumphant charge of affairs; truculent, laughing in the faces of those who had dared criticize the Duke, she was ready to show them who was mistress of them all-the Queen included.
”We must,” announced Sarah, ”return at once to London. The people must be made to realize that this is indeed a great victory. There must be celebrations....”
”And thanksgiving,” put in Anne. ”We must give thanks to G.o.d to whom we owe this victory.”
”Well, Mrs. Morley,” cried Sarah with a loud laugh, ”I think we owe this victory to Mr. Freeman.”
Anne was shocked by such irreverence, but she had always known that dear Mrs. Freeman had never been really devout.
”We shall be eternally grateful to Mr. Freeman,” said Anne with dignity, ”but we must not forget that victory or defeat-both are in the hands of Almighty G.o.d.”
”There should, of course, be a thanksgiving service at St. Paul's,” cut in Sarah, her mind forging ahead, making plans. A carriage with herself and the Queen. It was fitting that she should share the Queen's carriage. This was the Duke of Marlborough's victory and no one was going to forget it.
The Queen was delighted at the prospect of a thanksgiving service and willing enough to discuss it.
”You should be most splendidly attired,” said Sarah, ”and wear your most dazzling jewels. I will choose them. Both should be quite splendid.”
”Oh dear, I am a little worried about Mr. Morley. I do hope his asthma will not worry him unduly. These ceremonies tire him so and there is nothing like fatigue for bringing on an attack.”
”I was referring to us, Mrs. Morley, for I think it only right and fitting that I should accompany you to St. Paul's. I am sure Mr. Freeman would wish it. You will remember it was to me that he sent the first news of the victory.”
”But of course, dear Mrs. Freeman should ride with her unfortunate Morley.”
”I do not think the King of France is calling you unfortunate at this moment!” laughed Sarah. ”Well, I shall choose our jewels and I think we should have the service as soon as possible.”
”I am in entire agreement,” said Anne.
So Sarah and Anne returned to London with Abigail-now relegated to be the chambermaid once more-and in her post as Mistress of the Robes, Sarah chose what the Queen should wear.
Such splendour she could never match, and as she was not one to take second place she decided to attract attention by the very simplicity of her own attire.
They rode from St. James's Palace to St. Paul's-Anne resplendent, Sarah simply clad; but Anne's jewels could not compete with Sarah's beauty; and in any case she was the wife of the hero of the day.
Anne was elated as she was always by her visits to church, and a thanksgiving service for a great victory must be doubly inspiring.
When they returned and Sarah had dismissed the Queen's attendants, Anne said to her, ”I and the nation will never cease to be grateful to Mr. Freeman.”
<script>