Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [197]
No one pointed out to her that shortly before she had been boasting of marrying Mary to the chief match in England; no one had ever dared point out anything to Sarah, except her daughters, and she quarrelled with them, or her husband, and he was dead.
Nor were her relations any better with Henrietta, who had become the Duchess of Marlborough on the death of her father, for it had been agreed that since the Duke had no sons the title should go to his daughter.
Henrietta was causing quite a scandal. She had always been fond of play-acting and play-actors and had long ago formed a very close friendship with William Congreve, the playwright. She took him into her house, for her husband, Lord Godolphin, gave way to her in all things and when Henrietta went to Bath, Congreve went with her. Henrietta was brought to bed of a girl and it was rumoured that she was Congreve’s daughter.
“A pleasant scandal,” commented Sarah, “for one who bears the proud title of Duchess of Marlborough.”
But there was little she could do about that, for when she called on her daughter she was informed that she was not at home, although Sarah was certain that she was.
She had tried to make Henrietta’s son William, now Lord Blandford, her favourite; and for a time succeeded in doing so. He was affectionately known as Willigo and Sarah fancied she saw a resemblance in him to his grandfather. But only in features. Willigo quickly became known as Lord Worthless, for he loved gay company and was too fond of the bottle. His mother disliked him, although she doted on her youngest daughter—Congreve’s! said Sarah—and consequently Sarah sought to win the affection which he might have given to his mother. But there was little comfort from Willigo. He met a burgomaster’s daughter when he was on the Continent and married her before Sarah could forbid the match.
Still eager not to lose him, Sarah met the girl and even found her charming.
But a year after the marriage Sarah was overcome with grief when Willigo died in a drunken fit. As usual her emotions were manifested in rage.
“I hope the Devil is picking the bones of the man who taught him to drink!” she cried.
She was growing more and more aware of loneliness.
To be old and lonely—it was a sad fate. There was only one member of the large family who had any real regard for her; and was it due to pity on Lady Dye’s part? Sarah never stopped to consider. She was always right, she believed; and any who disagreed with her was wrong. She told Dye she would call her Cordelia for that was a name most fitting, because she saw herself as a Lear who was driven near to madness by the ingratitude and cruelty of those about her. She could not forbear to meddle, and occupied herself with matchmaking for her grandchildren; and with some difficulty married off Harriet Godolphin to the Duke of Newcastle. She produced Dukes for six of her granddaughters, though for her darling Lady Dye she had looked higher and had selected none less than the Prince of Wales. This was an amazing feat and she almost succeeded in bringing the affair to a successful climax. There were so many points in her favour. Frederick was unpopular and hated his parents, and Sarah and he had this hatred in common for she was at this time deep in her quarrel with Walpole who was supported by the Queen. It was a daring plan. Lady Dye to become a Princess and the royal family to be discountenanced all in one stroke. Frederick had many debts and Sarah was reputed to be the richest woman in England, so there was much to recommend such a marriage.
Such a victory, Sarah believed, would have equalled that of Blenheim. What would Marl think if he could look down from Heaven and see his granddaughter Princess of Wales?
Alas for Sarah! Robert Walpole, the enemy, heard of Sarah’s plans and put an end to them. And Sarah had to be content with the Duke of Bedford for Dye.
And when Dye was married she could not stop herself interfering, telling her granddaughter what was wrong with her town house, what