Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [15]
Godolphin’s name, with that of Marlborough, had been mentioned in the case of Sir John Fenwick; and although neither he nor Marlborough had been brought to trial over that affair, Godolphin had been forced to resign. This was the state of affairs when Sarah had the idea that the two families united by marriage could form the nucleus of a ruling party which would of course be dominated by the Marlboroughs.
In his youth Sidney had made a romantic marriage. He had fallen in love with Margaret Blagge, one of the most beautiful and virtuous young women at Court. Margaret, a maid of honour to Anne Hyde, who was Duchess of York and mother to the Princesses Mary and Anne, had taken part in John Crowne’s Calista which had been written that the Princess Mary might perform and make her debut at Court. Although Margaret had believed dancing and play-acting was sinful and had been forced to play a part in this, she had scored a success as Diana the Goddess of chastity. Sidney watching her had fallen more deeply in love than ever before. Margaret seemed to him unique; for to find a girl who was virtuous at the Court of King Charles was rare.
He often thought of those days of courtship, the secret marriage, the friendship with John Evelyn, the writer, who, recognizing Margaret’s rare qualities, loved her as though she were his daughter. A strange interlude for an ambitious man, to discover that there was a life which did not depend on gaining advantages over other men, fighting for power, enviously watching the progress of rivals—days which later he was to look back on as a dream. In due course they announced their marriage; he remembered the house they had lived in, in Scotland Yard near the palace of Whitehall, during the days when they had been awaiting the birth of their first child.
It was not wise to brood on those days; there was too much sadness in nostalgia for a past which was lost for ever; but he could not stop thinking of how they had walked in the gardens, always talking of the child. There had come that September day—September days had ever after seemed tinged with sadness for him—just as the green leaves were touched with brown; their edges dry and shrivelled ready to fall from the trees to be trampled underfoot or swept up and destroyed, as his happiness had been. But how was he to guess then that soon his joy in life would be gone as surely as those bright leaves upon the trees.
Young Francis had been born on the third day of September—a healthy boy, which was what they had secretly longed for, although neither of them had admitted it. They had stoutly declared to each other that the sex of the child was unimportant, lest the other should think either one would be disappointed.
But a boy brought that moment of triumph. For two days they were at the peak of happiness. Then she took fever, and a week after the birth of Francis, Margaret was dead.
Sidney had had only one desire for a long time—that was to follow her. But he went on living, and in place of the love he had had for his wife he had built up ambition. His great relaxation was gambling and no amount of losses on horse racing could deter him. Consequently he was almost always in debt; but he was a brilliant politician.
John Evelyn, who had been almost as desolate as Sidney when Margaret died, had found his solace in Margaret’s son; and Sidney was glad of this, for he had a great respect for the writer. It was Evelyn who took charge of the boy’s education, who had advised his father to send him to Eton and afterwards to Cambridge. Francis was, at the time when Sarah Churchill had cast calculating eyes on him, eighteen years old.
Although the Churchill girls despised their cousin Abigail, she was far more observant than they were. When the Godolphins visited St. Albans it did not take her long to guess for what reason Sarah had invited them.
She watched Henrietta and Anne riding with Francis