Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [191]
She went to him and the thought came to her in that moment: Why did I think I had reached the ultimate suffering. Then I had Marl, and while I have him I still have what I need to make life worth living.
“John,” she cried. “Dearest …”
But he did not answer; he could only look at her with dull, bewildered eyes.
She ran screaming from the room, summoning the servants. “Send for doctors. At once! At once! My lord Marlborough is taken ill.”
It was said that the shock of Lady Sunderland’s death, following so close on that of Lady Bridgewater, had brought on the Duke of Marlborough’s stroke.
When she realized that although he had lost the power of speech and it was obvious that he could not clearly grasp what was going on about him, he could still recover, Sarah threw off her grief for her daughters and set about nursing him, giving to the task all that energy which she had previously squandered on quarrels.
Nothing in that household was allowed to interfere with the Duke’s recovery. Sarah was supreme in the sickroom. She insisted that Dr. Garth—a local doctor—take up residence in the house that he might be called to attend the Duke at any time of the night and day.
The Duke must be kept alive, and it seemed that none dared disobey Sarah—not even the Duke, for he clung to life with a tenacity which surprised everyone, including the doctors.
“You will recover, John,” Sarah told her husband. “My dearest, you must recover. We have been together so long. How could we be separated now?”
That was one thing he seemed to understand and each day there was an improvement. His powers of speech began to return and Dr. Garth said his recovery was a near-miracle.
While Sarah was nursing John she received a letter from the Earl of Sunderland in which he said his wife had written to him when she knew she was dying and he enclosed the letter, for it concerned Sarah.
“Pray get my mother, the Duchess of Marlborough, to take care of the children, for to be left to servants is very bad for them and a man can’t take care of little children as a woman can. For the love she has for me and the duty I shall ever show her, I hope she will do it and be very kind to you who was dearer to me than my life.”
When Sarah read this letter she took it to her private sitting room and wept over it.
Then she took it to John and sitting by his chair told him what it contained. He understood and nodded his head.
“It will be good for you, Sarah,” he said in his slow and painful way.
And she wept afresh—quiet tears unlike those she usually shed.
“I shall write at once to Sunderland,” she said. “We will have the children here as soon as it can be arranged. There is Elizabeth’s girl, too. Perhaps I should bring her here. As my poor darling Anne has said: It is not good for children to be left to the care of servants.”
John understood. He seemed happier than he had for a long time.
This was Sarah’s new life—far from Court intrigues; a sick husband to nurse; a houseful of grandchildren to care for.
AT LANGLEY MARSH
n the Manor of Langley Marsh Lady Masham had become the gracious chatelaine. Samuel was an ideal lord of the manor; gentle, kindly, he quickly became popular with his tenants, who knew in the neighbourhood that they must not be deceived by the quiet manner of Lady Masham; she it was who ruled the household.
She entertained frequently, yet she appeared to enjoy the simpler pursuits of the country. Her still room occupied some part of her time, and there was also the governing of the servants, the planning of dinner parties and of course, the bringing up of her children. When her son George died she was stricken with grief but she still had her Samuel, named after his father, and there was another son Francis to replace the one she had lost. She had her daughter Anne and looked forward to having more children.
She was avidly interested in the news from Court