Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [100]
Sarah revelled in her position. She would cut short the Queen when she rambled on. “Yes, yes, yes, Madam. It must be so!” and would openly yawn.
“How that woman bores me!” she cried to Lord Godolphin, and did not care that servants heard her. “I’d as lief be shut up in a dungeon as spend my time listening to her bumbling on.”
Godolphin would have liked to warn her but of course he dared not. He was very much in awe of her and carried out her instructions without attempting to disagree with her.
Abigail from the shadows watched in amazement. How could the Queen so forget the dignity due to her rank to accept such conduct! Sarah now performed those tasks which Abigail had been doing for the Queen, although the more menial services of the bedchamber were still left for her to do. To see Sarah hand the Queen her gloves was a revelation. Her dislike for the Queen seemed to be apparent to everyone but Anne. Anne suffered a great deal from gout and dropsy, and Sarah, who was full of health, seemed to find the Queen’s illnesses very distasteful. When the Queen talked of her symptoms—which she loved to do—Sarah would turn away disgusted, and sometimes when she handed her something for which she had asked she would turn her head away as the Queen’s hand touched hers as though, said those who were watching, the Queen had offensive smells.
The relationship between the Queen and the Duchess was discussed at length in the women’s quarters. Mrs. Abrahal said she was surprised Her Majesty did not send some people packing, that she did. To which Mrs. Danvers replied that: Nobody would dare send the Duchess of Marlborough packing … not even God nor the devil.
Seeing Abigail enter Mrs. Abrahal said: “This puts Hill’s nose out of joint, I’d swear.”
Mrs. Danvers tittered because, Abigail knew, the nose referred to was too large for the small face it adorned—though adorned was scarcely the right description—and was now, as so often, pink at the tip. Though, she believed they had said of her when they had noticed her rising favour with the Queen and been jealous of it, having it poking where it had no right.
“In what way?” asked Abigail lightly.
“Well, no little têtes-à-têtes over the bohea, dear! No little cosy chats with Her Majesty … not now Her Grace is back! They haven’t the time for you now, Mrs. Hill.”
“It is natural that when Her Grace of Marlborough is at Court she performs the duties which I took over during her absence. My nose suffers not at all from this perfectly natural procedure.”
Abigail picked up the little dog for which she had been searching and walked calmly out of the room. Mrs. Danvers who considered herself the Duchess’s woman grimaced at Mrs. Abrahal.
“All the same,” she insisted, “it’s a change she doesn’t like.”
She was thoughtful. “There was a time,” she went on, “when I thought I ought to mention to Her Grace what a friend Her Majesty was making of that woman. Sometimes I used to think that Abigail Hill rather fancied herself as the Queen’s special favourite. Well, it shows, doesn’t it? Her Grace only has to put her handsome nose in the place and back scuttles Hill to her corner. I needn’t have worried.”
They both agreed that she need not have worried.
With Sarah back at Court the pleasant intimacies of the past were lost. Now dressing was a fomality. Every time Anne changed her dress she must be surrounded by women who did the tasks which had been allotted to them in order of precedence. Each garment was passed from hand to hand until it reached that of the Duchess who then handed it to the Queen or put it on for her. It was in these occasions that Sarah was more and more openly showing her disgust, turning away, nose in the air, as the garment passed from her hands to the Queen’s. Every time Anne washed her hands, the page of the backstairs must bring the basin and ewer; then one of the bedchamber women must place it beside the Queen and kneel at the side of the table,