Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [25]
“Abigail Hill will do it, Mrs. Morley. I have brought her along that she may be of use to you.”
“Abigail Hill,” murmured the Princess.
“The poor relation I told you about. She is the one who is going to have the bedchamber post. You’ll find her a good modest creature.”
“I am so glad, dear Mrs. Freeman.”
“I have schooled her thoroughly so you will not have any trouble there. She will seal your letters. She will make herself useful without disturbing you in the least. That is what I have trained her to do.”
“How good of you, my dear.”
“As Mrs. Morley knows, she can always rely on Mrs. Freeman to look to her comfort.”
“I know, I know.”
Sarah signed to Abigail to seal the letter. Abigail’s fingers felt wooden; then she realized that neither Sarah nor the Princess were aware of her. How strange, thought Abigail, the letter was addressed to the King. She, homely Abigail Hill, was sealing a letter from the Princess to the King; and what was said in that letter could possibly have a bearing on history. She had never felt quite so important in the whole of her life as she did at that moment.
Sarah was telling the Princess about her newly married daughter Henrietta and that Anne would soon be of an age to marry. The Princess nodded and cooed and now and then spoke of “my boy” in such an affectionate way that Abigail thought how human she was, and how much less terrifying than Lady Marlborough. One would have thought that Sarah was the Queen and Anne the subject.
When she had sealed the letter she laid it on the table.
“Just make yourself useful,” said Sarah. “Mrs. Danvers will tell you anything you want to know. She has been with the Princess for years. But if there is anything you think she should need, you should ask me if she should have it. The great point is to remember not to disturb the Princess. She does not want to see you nor hear you.”
“Dear Mrs. Freeman,” murmured Anne, “what should I do without you?”
Sarah congratulated herself on a shrewd move when she put Abigail into the Princess’s bedchamber. Abigail would be recognized as one of Sarah’s women and it would be known that she would look out for her benefactress’s interests. Moreover, Abigail was efficient; that had been made obvious at St. Albans. And what was more important she was no pusher. She would keep her place and not attempt to curry favour with the Princess as some of the others did. She was so colourless (apart, thought Sarah with a snort of amusement, from her nose) and so quiet that one scarcely noticed she was there.
Sarah had tested this by asking the Princess what she thought of the new chamber woman.
“Oh,” Anne had replied, “is there one?”
“My dear Mrs. Morley, don’t you remember I presented her to you?”
“You have done me so many favours, Mrs. Freeman. Can you expect me to remember them all?”
“All that I hope is that she is not making herself offensive as some of these bold and brazen pieces do.”
“I am sure she has not, for I did not know that she was there.”
“And you have found nothing amiss? All that you have needed has been done?”
“My dear, dear Mrs. Freeman, I am so well tended … thanks to you. Oh yes, I know it is you I have to thank for the smooth running of my household.”
Nothing could have pleased Sarah better.
Abigail was pleased too. She took her orders from Mrs. Danvers, went about the apartment silent-footed and efficient, and she knew that although she was often in the presence of the Princess, perhaps because the latter was shortsighted, perhaps because Abigail was just another woman to her, she was not aware of her as an individual, although any personal service was always rewarded with a kindly smile.
But it was a pleasant life. The fact of being near the Court greatly appealed to Abigail. She listened to all that was said; she enjoyed hearing stories of the Court of King Charles II and the drama which had followed close on his death. There were many who remembered well how Monmouth had collected an army and calling himself King Monmouth—or perhaps others had called him that?—had