Part 32 (1/2)
”Her cousin?”
”Mr. Harley, Your Grace.”
Sarah's heart began to beat faster. In a word or two Danvers had put a very different colour on the entire affair.
”Very affectionate, they are. He calls her his dear coz, and afternoon on afternoon she'll let him in to the green closet and they'll be there together ... the Queen, Mr. Harley, Abigail Hill ... and the Prince, but he sleeps through most of it.”
”Why did you not tell me of this before?”
”I tried to tell Your Grace ... but Your Grace didn't seem to want to listen.”
”Harley with the Queen in the green closet and you think I don't want to hear! You're mad, Danvers. You're in your dotage. What else?”
”Mr. St. John sometimes comes with Mr. Harley, Your Grace. They are all very friendly with Hill.”
”How long has this been going on?”
”I don't know, Your Grace ... for a very long time I think.”
The d.u.c.h.ess rose and left. Rarely in her life had she been so shaken. What she had believed to be the social gaffe of an illbred chambermaid was turning out to be a major court intrigue.
Sarah was bewildered. For the first time in her life she did not know how to act. John was abroad. G.o.dolphin was useless; Sunderland and she had never been in tune. What she had to discover was how far had Abigail Hill supplanted her in the Queen's affections.
She knew Anne depended on her friends.h.i.+ps with women. It had always been so from her childhood; and Mary, her sister, had been the same, until she had married William. Anne had selected Sarah as the adored one, but Sarah had disliked the cloying affection bestowed upon her; she had turned from it in disgust-and had, she knew, on occasions betrayed her feelings. But for the fact that Anne was Queen she would never have become involved in such a relations.h.i.+p. It was against her nature; and the older she grew the more repulsive was Anne to her. But she needed Anne's favour; she needed to rule the woman if she were going to bring that fame and fortune to her family which she had decided they must have.
She had been occupied outside the Court; it was true that she had avoided the Queen; and insidiously, while she neglected Anne, that creature, that insect, that little-better-than-a-servant had been creeping in with her lotions and poultices, her Purcell and her mimicry, her flattery and her solicitude.
”It makes me sick!” cried Sarah.
But she knew that she had to do all in her power to end such a situation. How she wished that dear Marl was at home. With his cool reasoning he would know how to act. There were times when she had upbraided him for his caution. But she had need of that caution now.
What should she do next? It was no use seeing that old parrot who was in full cry with her ”I have bid Masham tell you and she would not.” That was going to be her answer to everything.
So she must see Abigail again, and if necessary shake the truth out of the creature.
Sarah went down to Woodstock. There at least was the evidence of the respect in which the Marlboroughs were held. Blenheim was going to be one of the biggest palaces in the country, and it was built for the Marlboroughs in honour of the Duke's great victory.
That was balm; but she could not get on with Vanbrugh and wished his plans had never been accepted. He was arrogant. One would have thought the house was being built for him.
It was soothing to some extent to harangue Vanbrugh-but little use in the present situation.
Sarah could never resist the pen. It soothed her always to pour out her anger in words and writing them was almost as comforting as speaking them.
She wrote to the Queen, reproaching her for her duplicity. Why, why, why had she kept her in the dark about the Masham marriage? What could have been the point? Mrs. Freeman who had always had such concern for Mrs. Morley was astonished that Mrs. Morley could have treated her so.
Anne wrote back: ”You are pleased to accuse me in your last letter very unjustly, especially concerning Masham. You say I avoid giving you a direct answer to what I must know is your greatest uneasiness, giving it a turn as if it were only the business of the day that had occasioned your suspicion. What I told you is very true and no turn as you are pleased to call it....”
The tone of that letter, so different from those which Sarah was accustomed to receive from her ”unfortunate and faithful Morley” should have warned Sarah, but Sarah had never heeded warnings.
As she said, she wanted plain answers to plain questions and she wanted to know how deep was this friends.h.i.+p between Abigail and Anne, whether Abigail had replaced her in the Queen's affections, and what had happened at those meetings in the green closet between the Queen, Harley, St. John and Abigail Hill.
She wrote to Abigail demanding a meeting as soon as she returned to London from Woodstock; but when she did come back Abigail kept out of her way and Sarah's fury rose.
She imagined that the ”chambermaid” as she referred to her, was being deliberately insolent, particularly when Abigail called on her at a time when she would be aware that she would not be at home.
”If that chambermaid should call again,” shouted Sarah, ”I am not at home.”
But Sarah knew that if she could speak with Abigail she would be more likely to get the truth of the situation, and when Abigail wrote a meek little note asking for an interview she granted it.
So carefully worded was that note that Sarah was sure Harley had dictated it. The entire situation was becoming horribly clear. Harley and St. John were the enemies of the Churchills. They always had been, in spite of mealymouthed Harley's sycophantic admiration for the Duke. Those two had put their heads together to destroy the Churchill faction. She had never liked them. She had told John a hundred times. John had trusted Harley; so had G.o.dolphin. She was the only one with insight into character, and she had known those two were not to be trusted. And all the time they had been in secret conference with the Queen-let in by that snake Abigail Hill, whom she herself had put into the position, to betray them!
They faced each other in Abigail's apartment.
Oh yes, thought Sarah, she has changed. Not so demure now. The sly creature. Harley has groomed her. She is very sure of herself.
She was dignified, serene and outwardly gracious, knowing her place-Masham now instead of Hill. The Queen's favourite but still her chambermaid in the presence of the great d.u.c.h.ess of Marlborough.
”So at last I see you!” said Sarah. ”I will tell you this that I am astonished by your conduct.”
”I am grieved,” replied Abigail demurely, ”and not a little astonished that Your Grace should have found my humble marriage of such concern.”
”Not your marriage-the secrecy that attended it. But let us have the plain truth. The Queen has changed towards me.”
”Your Grace has been much absent. You have so much with which to occupy your time. And added to all else, the building at Woodstock.”
”There is no need to tell me what I do. I know far better than you. I say this-that the Queen has changed towards me because of you, Masham.”
Abigail's green eyes were very faintly insolent. ”Surely that is impossible, Your Grace. A humble chambermaid could not affect the friends.h.i.+p between Her Majesty and the d.u.c.h.ess of Marlborough.”
”Through sly and secret management, yes.”
”Your Grace gives me credit for a diplomacy which is surely beyond my powers.”
”I am just discovering what your powers are. You have been frequently with Her Majesty in private....”
”As her chambermaid.”
”Don't evade the truth. You have been with Her Majesty as ... a friend. Don't deny it. Do you think I don't know her. You have slipped in like the serpent in Eden.”
Abigail smiled.