Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [168]
“Sarah, I tell you this is the end. She will not have you back.”
“I shall write to her,” said Sarah stubbornly.
“She’ll read no letters from you.”
“She will if you take it to her.”
“Sarah, don’t you know when you’re beaten?”
“No, my brave general, I do not agree that I am beaten.”
“Sarah …”
But she put her arms about him and laughed. She would have her way as she always had, and there was one thing he knew, which was that it was better to suffer defeat with Sarah than to bask in success without her.
Sarah shut herself into her room and wrote to the Queen. I wouldn’t do this, she thought, but for Marl. This is breaking him. He’ll be ill if we go on like this.
Her pen had always been as violent as her tongue, but now she tried to use it to advantage. She remembered the cosy chats when Prince George had been alive and she and Anne had sat together like two goodies discussing their men. Mr. Morley and Mr. Freeman. What intimacy there had been in those days! And Anne had been fond of Mr. Freeman. He had charmed her as he charmed everyone. Marl was a charming man.
Now she must soften the Queen; she must remind her of those days. Anne had always been sentimental and if she could touch that sentiment now who knows she might yet retain the keys of office. And she must retain them, for to lose them would mean to be cut off from Court, cut off from all hope of regaining power.
She wrote to the Queen in an unusually humble style and the theme of her letter was her concern for the Duke. She believed she wrote, that if he must continue in this state of anxiety, he would not live six months. If Anne would allow her to remain her servant she would, she promised, never do or say anything disagreeable to her.
There was submission. She was sure of success.
Having written the letter she went to the Duke who was lying on his couch and coming on him unawares she felt a twinge of anxiety. Perhaps she had not exaggerated in her letter to the Queen.
“Dearest Marl,” she said, “you are not well.”
He rose and immediately looked more like his old self. “I’ll be well enough when this unpleasantness has passed away.”
“I have the letter here. Take it to the Queen and insist that she read it.”
“I am in no position to command the Queen.”
“Oh come, you know what I mean. Beg prettily as you so well know how to do, and she will do as you ask.”
“Sarah, she is firmly determined …”
“I know her better than you. She will read that letter and be touched. Once I get back to her, I’ll see that I stay there.”
“I would rather not.…”
“Now, my brave commander. We shall win yet.”
She was irresistible. He had to obey her. Godolphin had felt the same, even Sunderland.
“We have to do this,” she said earnestly. “It would have been different if the Elector had listened to our plans.”
The Duke shook his head. “He believes that he will get the crown handed to him in a few years’ time so he sees no reason to fight for it now.”
“He should not be so sure. There are Jacobites and to spare in this country. They’ll have the Pretender back … and then Master Hanover will wish that he had paid a little attention to his friends.”
“He is not prepared to risk war for the English crown, Sarah. I can’t say that I blame him.”
“It seems I am beset by lily-livered cowards,” cried Sarah fiercely. “Well, there’s nothing to do but try to get back with Anne. She’ll read that letter, Marl; and when she does she’ll remember our friendship. She won’t have the heart to dismiss me then.”
Marlborough was uncertain of that, but nevertheless he obeyed Sarah and presented himself at the palace to ask for an audience.
This was granted, but when he produced Sarah’s letter the Queen said that she did not wish to read any communication from the Duchess.
“I beg of Your Majesty to read this letter,” said the Duke, kneeling and looking entreatingly up at her. Anne shook her head sadly. He was so handsome, and he at least had always been so modest, and in the old days she had