Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [101]
When the Duchess was away the ceremony was relaxed, and Abigail Hill was happy to do all the services the Queen desired—no matter how menial; she would put on the Queen’s gloves with tenderness, for often Anne’s hands were too gouty to do this for herself; she would put on the Queen’s shoes in the same gentle manner, and when it was necessary to poultice those poor swollen feet she never allowed a poultice to be too hot on application, and was always ready to suggest it might be getting cold that minute or so before the Queen realized it.
It was Abigail who had brought the Queen’s chocolate to her before she lay down to rest; and what comfort it was to sip the warm sweet drink which she so much enjoyed and chat to Abigail of all the irritations or the pleasures of the day.
Of course it was so stimulating to have dear Mrs. Freeman at Court. Something was always happening to Mrs. Freeman, and it was almost always something to arouse her indignation. With Mrs. Freeman there was never a dull moment; and it was pleasant to find that they were not so politically divergent as they once were.
Sarah came into the royal apartments one day, her face purposeful. She received the Queen’s embrace coolly and sat down beside her, her lips set in lines of determination.
“I have been thinking,” said Sarah, “that it is time there was a change of office in the Secretaryship of State.”
Anne gasped. “But I am very fond of Sir Charles Hedges. He is a very good man.”
Sarah clicked her teeth impatiently. “Lord, Madam,” she said, “a man must be a little more than good to hold a high office in the Government.”
“But Sir Charles has always given the utmost satisfaction.”
Sarah looked distastefully at the large figure in the chair. She was going to be in one of her stubborn moods and Sarah had counted on getting this matter settled as quickly as possible. What on earth did the fat fool think she was wasting her time here for if it was not to arrange affairs to her liking. Marl had warned her, but she knew her dear cautious old Marl. Godolphin was even more cautious—cowardice she called that. A fine state of affairs with Marlborough abroad and Godolphin afraid and an obstinate old Queen on whom so much time had to be wasted.
“Mrs. Morley knows that I always make her affairs my constant concern,” said Sarah sternly. “I do assure her that the time has come for Hedges to go.”
“On what grounds?” asked the Queen.
“He is a bumbling old fool.”
“He has never shown me that he is anything but fitted for his duties.”
“Mrs. Morley is apt to form attachments and in her kindness be blinded to truths.”
Here was another suggestion that she was edging towards senility. Anne set her painful feet firmly on their stool and a cool note crept into her voice.
“And whom have you in mind to fill the position?”
“Who could do it but Sunderland.”
Sunderland! Sarah’s son-in-law, a man whom Anne had never liked, a man who had opposed the proposal for dear George’s annuity! No, said Anne to herself and wished that she dared say it openly to Sarah. No, no, no!
“A brilliant young man,” went on Sarah almost angrily. “Oh, I know he has had his strange ideas. But what young man worth his salt has not? He is a brilliant fellow. Adventurous!”
“I do not think I should care for him,” said Anne. “His temper is not one which appeals to me. I do not think we should be friends.”
“Nonsense, Mrs. Morley would soon begin to understand him.”
“I understand all I want to now, Mrs. Freeman.”
“You don’t know the fellow. I’ll tell you this: Mr. Freeman has not always been fond of him, but now he agrees with me that he has a touch of genius.”
No, thought Sarah, Marl had not always been fond of him. Not very long ago—before Blenheim—he had felt like murdering the fellow. It was Sunderland who had dropped that hint to her of Marl’s infidelity and caused them both such anguish. Why should she speak for him now. Because the need for complete power was beyond minor personal irritation. Because Sunderland was a Whig