Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [107]
“I beg Your Grace’s pardon …” It was on the edge of Abigail’s tongue to say that the Queen had approved her use of these apartments, but no. Sarah would reproach Anne, and Abigail wanted no trouble through her. Far better to take all the blame. So lowering her head she said no more.
“You will move yourself and your possessions without delay,” commanded Sarah.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Abigail gathered her robe and everything she could lay her hands on; and with downcast eyes scuttled away; as she went she heard Sarah say: “What can one expect? No breeding. No manners. After all I took her from a broom!”
Sarah had more important things than the insolence of underlings with which to occupy herself; she had spoken to the Queen once more about Sunderland only to evoke what Sarah called the old parrot cry. There was no doubt that Anne was very set against Sunderland’s appointment. But Sarah was all the more determined to secure it. She would write to Marl at once and tell him that he simply must add his voice to hers.
In her fury she busied herself with the Queen’s wardrobe.
“Mrs. Danvers,” she cried angrily. “It seems to me that some of the Queen’s mantuas are missing. I should like to know where they are.”
Mrs. Danvers flushed with apprehension, replied that the mantuas were worn and it was the bedchamber woman’s prerogative to have her share of the Queen’s cast-off wardrobe.
“Not without my permission,” stormed the Duchess. “I am the Mistress of the Robes. Have you forgotten it?”
“Of a certainty I have not, Your Grace, but I believed I had a right to take these mantuas.”
“I wish to see them.”
“But Your Grace …”
“Unless I do I shall lay this matter before Her Majesty.”
“Your Grace I have been with Her Majesty since she was a child.”
“It is no reason why you should remain there if you do not give me satisfaction.”
“I have always given Her Majesty satisfaction, Your Grace.”
“I am the Queen’s Mistress of the Robes and I wish to see those mantuas.”
“I will show them to Your Grace.”
“Pray do—at the earliest possible moment. And I would wish to see the jupes and kirtles and the fans.”
Mrs. Danvers, hoping to divert the Duchess’s fury said: “Your Grace, I would like to speak to you about Mrs. Hill.”
“What about Mrs. Hill?”
“It would seem, Your Grace, that she is too often with Her Majesty.”
The Duchess’s eyes narrowed, and Mrs. Danvers went on: “And in the green closet too, Your Grace …”
“Do you know, Mrs. Danvers, that Mrs. Hill has her place through me?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Then, Mrs. Danvers, you can safely leave me to decide what Abigail Hill’s duties shall or shall not be. Now to those jupes …”
Danvers shall go, decided Sarah. She is talking against Abigail Hill whom she suspects is spying for me. We shall see, Madam Danvers, who will go … my woman or you.
When she had dismissed Mrs. Danvers, after imparting that she had somewhat grave doubts as to the manner in which the Queen’s wardrobe was being looked after, she went to the Queen.
Anne was sipping the chocolate Abigail had just brought to her.
“Do try a little, dear Mrs. Freeman. Hill makes it most deliciously.”
“No thank you,” said Sarah. “Mrs. Morley is I believe pleased with Hill, whom I brought to wait on her.”
“Such a good creature, dear Mrs. Freeman. Your unfortunate Morley can never thank you enough.”
“I am glad she gives satisfaction, for some in your bedchamber do not.”
“Oh dear …” Anne looked alarmed.
“I refer to Danvers.”
“Danvers! Oh, she is getting old, you know. She is like a dear old nurse to me.”
“That is no reason why she should be insolent to me.”
“Oh dear me. How terrible! My poor dear Mrs. Freeman.”
“The woman is a spy.”
“A spy, Mrs. Freeman. For whom is she spying?”
“That we shall endeavour to find out. But she has been helping herself from the wardrobe. She has had four mantuas, she confessed to me. She thought they were her right and you had no further use for them.”
“But Danvers has often had these things you know. In her position it is accepted that she should have