Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [3]
If there was one person in the world whom Sarah truly loved it was her husband, John Churchill, Earl of Marlborough; and although he had had a reputation as a rake before their marriage, he had, she was certain, remained absolutely faithful to her since. This reference to past indiscretions aroused her fury.
She slapped Barbara Fitzharding’s face.
Barbara, taken aback, stared at her, lifted her hand to retaliate and then remembered that there must be no brawling between women in positions such as theirs.
But her anger matched Sarah’s.
“I’m not surprised at your mode of behaviour,” she said. “It is hardly to be wondered at. And besides being arrogant and ill-mannered you are also cruel. I should be ashamed, not to have poor relations, but to turn my back on them while they starve.”
“What nonsense is this?”
“It is no nonsense. I heard only the other day the distressing story of the Hill family. I was interested … and so was my informant … because of their connection with the high and mighty Lady Marlborough! Your uncle, aunt and cousins … dying of starvation! Two girls working as servants, I hear, two boys running about the streets, ragged and hungry.”
“A pitiable story and one which does credit to your imagination, Lady Fitzharding.”
“A pitiable story, Lady Marlborough, but it owes nothing to my imagination. Go and see for yourself. And let me tell you this, that I shall not feel it my duty to keep silent about this most shameful matter.”
Sarah for once was speechless, and when Lady Fitzharding flounced out of the room she stared after her, murmuring: “Hill! Hill!” The name was familiar. Her grandfather Sir John Jennings, she had heard her own father say, had had twenty-two children and one of these, Mary, had married a Francis Hill who was a merchant of London.
Sarah had heard nothing of him since. One did not need to keep in touch with one’s merchant connections—except of course when they were likely to bring disrepute.
Sarah made one of her prompt decisions.
Something must be done about the Hills.
It was too delicate a matter to delegate. She must deal with it herself.
Sombrely dressed she drove to the address she had discovered—a perilous journey, for the streets of London were unsafe even by day, and robbers had a way of knowing the quality, however quietly dressed.
She dismounted at the house—a poor place—and told the coachman to wait, for she would not be long. Two boys in ragged clothes were lounging at the door and looked at her in surprise.
“Do the Hills live here?” she asked imperiously.
They told her, in voices which suggested a certain amount of education, that they did.
“And you?” she demanded.
“Our name is Hill.”
Inwardly she shivered. These ragged creatures her relations! It was incredible. Something must be done … quickly. She was not going to allow that Fitzharding woman to spread scandal about her.
“Take me to your parents,” she commanded.
The house was clean, for which she was thankful, but when she came face to face with Mary and Francis Hill she was horrified. Their state of emaciation was clearly due to starvation.
“I am Sarah Churchill,” she announced. “Sarah Jennings that was.”
Mary Hill gave a little cry and said: “So you’re Sarah.… I have of course heard much of you.”
“And I have heard of you. This is terrible. But I will remedy it. Those are your sons. Here, boy, go and buy food … as quickly as you can.”
She gave him money and both boys went off.
“Now,” said Sarah, “you had better tell me everything.”
“You, Francis,” began his wife.
“It is not an unusual story,” Francis explained. “I was a merchant. My business failed. I became bankrupt and over the last months have had to sell our possessions in order to live. We have become poorer and poorer. We came to this place to live. It is the best we can afford. There is very little money left and I do not know where we shall turn for more.”
“Those boys …?”
“They can earn a penny here and there … but it is not enough to keep us.”
“And you?”
“I have tried, but my strength seems to have deserted me.”