Part 51 (1/2)
”And I. And I.”
Shrewsbury smiled. ”Unanimous,” he said.
They watched the paper writhing in the flames.
Sarah saw the messenger approaching. News from England was always eagerly awaited and she had heard already that the state of the Queen's health was deteriorating.
This, she thought, as she hastened to greet the messenger, could be what we are waiting for.
She knew by the man's face that it was.
”The Queen ...” she began.
”Is dead, Your Grace.”
She s.n.a.t.c.hed the letters from him.
”Marl!” she cried. ”Where are you, Marl? The Queen is dead! This is the end of exile.”
The end of exile! How right she was! There was no longer need to remain abroad. Soon they would be back where the fields were greener, where everything she loved and cherished would be waiting for her.
Marlborough took the news more calmly. So much, he pointed out, depended on who was the next Sovereign of England. If it was the Pretender, their chances of returning to Court were small; but if the new King came from Hanover then he would have no reason to feel anything but grat.i.tude towards Marlborough and his d.u.c.h.ess.
The next days were the most anxious Sarah had ever lived through.
”I should die,” she told John, ”if we could not go back now.”
They travelled to Calais to be ready to embark as soon as they knew who was to be the new King.
It was over, thought Abigail. Shrewsbury and his Council had caused the Queen's letter to be destroyed. They could guess its contents, and were not going to allow a papist monarch to mount the throne of England merely to salve a Queen's conscience.
Bolingbroke was not in a position to act. She had seen him and he told her there was nothing they could do. The people, he believed, would soon tire of the German King who in any case showed no eagerness to accept the throne, and then they would be only too glad to turn to James.
But a papist! thought Abigail. Never! If he would but change his religion ...
No, there was nothing which could save her now. Oxford had fallen-and she would not be long after him. The Queen's love alone had kept her in her place and now that was over.
George I had been proclaimed King of England; the people of London were behind him. Marlborough was coming home.
Abigail sent her maid to tell Lord Masham that she wished to see him.
Samuel came at once and she went to him and put her arm through his.
”This is the end, Samuel,” she said. ”There will be nothing more for us here.”
”I know,” he answered.
”So we will take the children and go away from Court.”
”It will be a different life for you, Abigail.”
”I know it is the end.”
”Or,” he said, ”the beginning.”
She laughed and she was surprised by the warmth in that laughter. ”It would depend on the way one looked at it.”
”Do you remember when we first met?” he asked her.
She nodded. ”We were watching the Duke of Gloucester drill his boy soldiers in the Park.”
”Neither of us was very important then, Abigail.”
”We were not. And now it's Lord and Lady Masham, with a family to keep.”
”We'll go to the country. We'll buy a manor there.”
”The thought of being a country squire is not distasteful to my lord?”
”I can imagine in some circ.u.mstances it would be very pleasant.”
”Yes, Samuel,” she said. ”So could I!”
She wondered then whether she meant it. She thought of the joys of Court life, the intrigues and triumphs.
She would never forget the days when it had been necessary to be on good terms with Abigail Hill in order to get a hearing with the Queen. She would always remember the first time Robert Harley had leaned towards her, endearingly, affectionately and said: ”We are cousins.”
She would never forget him; she would until she died ask herself with a touch of pain whether in other circ.u.mstances it might have been so different.
Revenged she had been, but there was little satisfaction in revenge. She had her sons; her daughter. They would have more children. Perhaps in them she could find the fulfilment she had failed to find in her own life.
It was over. There remained the country. There was no other choice.
The Marlboroughs landed at Dover to a salute of guns.
”Long live the great Duke of Marlborough!” went up the cry.
Sarah sniffed the air. Oh, how good it was to be back!
And there was Marl. The great Duke once more! The friend of the new King! The people were strewing flowers in their path; they were to ride through London in their gla.s.s coach.
”This is how it was after Blenheim!” cried Sarah.
And as the Marlboroughs rode into London, in search of fresh glories, Lord and Lady Masham, with their children, rode out seeking obscurity.
THE EXILES RETURN.