Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [136]
Well, it should not be so. Sarah was a fool, Abigail reminded herself, who could not control her anger, keep her mouth shut nor her fingers from a pen. Her anger when she was crossed was so fierce that it had to flow, but that was Sarah’s undoing and Abigail was going to see that she was vanquished once and for all time.
“I am sorry this has to be,” Abigail was saying. “Your Majesty is worn out.”
“My thoughts are with George. He will be needing us.”
“I have given Masham firm instructions. He will not fail us.” Anne pressed Abigail’s hand. “But I shall be glad, my dear, when we are back with him.”
“It will be soon, Your Majesty.”
“I feel in little mood for thanksgiving. You saw the casualty lists. They haunt me. I think of those poor men dying on the battlefield and I wonder whether it is worthwhile. I wonder whether any fighting is worthwhile.”
“The Duke of Marlborough will explain that to you. Madam.”
“Ah, the Duke! A brilliant soldier, a genius.”
“And where would brilliant soldiers show their genius if not on the battlefield, Madam?”
“But the carnage! My subjects! I told you I think of them as my children, Masham.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Your heart is too good.”
“I want the best for them, Masham. I want to see them in their homes, with plenty to eat, work to do, families to bring up … most of all families, for I feel that is the greatest blessing of all. If I had had children … If my boy had lived there would not be this tiresome matter of George of Hanover. You know, Masham, the Whigs wanted to bring him to visit England as the future heir to the throne. I will not have it. I will not.”
“Mr. Harley told me of it. He thought it monstrous. But he said Your Majesty has only to refuse to receive him.”
“You know how insistent these people can be.”
“The Whigs at the moment have too much power. Since they turned out Mr. Harley and Mr. St. John and the others, they have taken control and that could never be a good thing.”
Anne nodded.
“People are saying that the war is a Whig war, Madam. The Duke of Marlborough was a Tory until he needed the Whigs to support his war.”
“Sometimes I think, Masham, that Marlborough’s great concern is to make war for its own sake.”
“And for his, Madam.” Abigail’s face formed into an expression matching that of the Duke’s, and Anne smiled appreciative of this amusing talent.
“I never liked George of Hanover,” went on Anne. “He was most … uncouth. I met him in my youth.”
Yes, she thought, most uncouth. They had brought him to England as a possible bridegroom for her but he had declined the match presumably. It was fortunate, for because of that they had brought her that other dear, good George who now, alas, lay so ill in the little house in Windsor Forest. But although she rejoiced that she had missed George of Hanover, she would never like him.
“If he came,” she went on, “he might stay. He might set up a Court of his own. I should feel that there were some who were simply waiting for me to die. Oh, no, I will not have him here.”
“Even the Whigs will not dare, Madam, if you refuse to have him. It is a pity that there has been so much noise about his exploits on the battlefield of Oudenarde.”
“Ah! The battle!” sighed the Queen. “How I wish that we could have done with battles.”
“And now, Madam, you must leave His Highness at Windsor to come here to take part in this celebration.”
“I never felt less like celebrating, Masham.”
“I know it.”
“I do not want my people to think that I glorify war.”
“I understand Your Majesty’s deeply religious sentiments, and how you feel about going to St. Paul’s decked out in jewels. It would give the impression …”
“I know exactly what you mean, Masham.”
“It is a victory over the French, but in my opinion it would be better to give thanks humbly to God and to pray that soon there might be an end to this bloodshed.”
“You voice