Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [184]
Oxford could see the end in sight. He had wanted to placate the two parties; he wanted the support of both Whigs and Tories, in the same way as he swayed between St. Germains and Hanover. After the Peace of Utrecht he should have broken away from the Tories; he saw now that he should have boldly asserted his beliefs—instead of which he had wavered, he had procrastinated—and had won the approbation of neither. Moreover he had neglected those who would have helped him; and Abigail Masham was the first, and most important of these.
Oxford was about to fall and Abigail Masham was the reason. The Court watched and waited. Why had Abigail who had once thought so highly of him, suddenly turned against him? No one was quite sure. He had not treated her with the deference she had expected and hoped for, perhaps. Was that it? He had not given her the shares she had desired in the South Seas Company. Could that be the reason? Had she been his mistress? Never. Oxford was an uncommonly virtuous man which was noticeable in a society of rakes. Had she transferred her affections to Bolingbroke? There was a rake if ever there was one! But there was no scandal of that nature attaching to Lady Masham.
No one was quite sure where that partnership had turned sour. No one could be really certain about the relationship between Lord Oxford and Lady Masham.
Abigail herself was not always sure. He had failed her, she knew; and it was not because of lack of shares in the South Seas Company, although that might have been part of it. She had dreamed a dream and he had destroyed it.
Oxford must go. Those words were being whispered throughout the Court. Bolingbroke was ready to leap into his place. It was the chance he had been waiting for.
The Queen had been persuaded by Abigail that she could no longer tolerate her Lord Treasurer. There was no doubt that he had come into her presence completely intoxicated.
“Your Majesty is disturbed and distressed by this conduct,” said Abigail. “I know how it affects you. Your health is not good enough to allow you to endure it.”
Masham was right. Anne was so weary. Sometimes she heard the arguments of her ministers going round and round in her head. There was one matter which worried her more than any other. If only her half brother would give up his religion; if only he would become a good member of the Church of England; then he would be accepted and she would be so happy. Then she could feel that she had righted a wrong; then she would be able to face her father if and when they came face to face in another life. She had tried so hard since she had become Queen to be a good and Christian woman; she had wanted above all things to right any wrong she had done. If her brother could come into his inheritance and be King of England and she could bring it about, she would have expiated that long-ago sin.
“Masham,” she said, “I have written a letter which is to be opened after my death. I want to keep it under my pillow.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The succession! thought Abigail. James Stuart will be King when she dies and he will remember that I have worked for him.
“You will not forget, Masham.”
“I will remember, Your Majesty.”
Anne held her swollen hands, swathed in bandages on her lap.
“Are they painful, Madam?”
“I think fresh poultices might comfort them.”
Abigail set about preparing them. The Queen’s health was rapidly declining and that saddened her. She would never have another mistress like her; but when James Stuart was James III of England he would remember those who had worked for him; he would remember the one who had found the letter under the pillow.
She must not forget her enemies though—the chief of these was Oxford. He had at last realized that he could waver no longer on such an important point and had come down on the side of Hanover, and would do everything