Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [32]
They smiled at each other. Samuel found Abigail’s quiet concentration, her modesty, her willingness to learn extremely attractive. Her quiet personality suited his. They enjoyed their meetings and their friendship grew.
Tragedy came to St. James’s Place.
The young Duke of Gloucester had celebrated his eleventh birthday and there had been festivities to mark this occasion.
The Princess Anne had been in good spirits and almost animated. Sarah had been a little impatient with her as she could so easily be at the Princess’s excessive devotion to her son and Anne, sensing this, had sent for Abigail Hill. Abigail had a soothing manner; she agreed with the Princess; she listened to the monologues on the perfections of the boy and only spoke to express incredulity and wonder at his actions. This was just what the Princess needed at the time, even though her greatest joy was in listening to Sarah Churchill’s brilliant and often cruel conversations. With Sarah one listened; with Abigail one talked. Usually Anne preferred to listen; but there were occasions when she wanted to talk; and then she found herself enjoying the society of the meek little chambermaid.
“My boy reviewed his troops this morning. Did you see him? My poor Hill, I must see that you get out more. Remind me. He was so excited by his cannon. A new one, Hill, which the King gave to him. I am delighted that the King and my boy are such good friends. Of course even William cannot help being charmed by him. I know it astonishes everybody. Did you know, Hill, that my boy offered the King his troops and himself to fight for him in Flanders.”
“Really, Madam. What a boy he is!”
“You may well say so, Hill. ‘I would be proud to die in Your Majesty’s service.’ That is what he wrote to the King. Oh dear …”
“Your Highness is cold?” Abigail had put a shawl about Anne’s shoulders.
“Thank you, Hill. I always shiver when I hear the word ‘death’ in connection with my boy. If I lost him, Hill, I do not think I could bear it.”
“I thought he looked very healthy when I last saw him, Your Highness.”
“You did, Hill, did you? And you are an observant creature. Yes, I fancy he grows stronger as he grows older. But I have lost so many. Sometimes I despair of ever having another child. That is why …”
“Your Highness is such a devoted mother.”
“And who would not be, Hill, to such a boy?”
“Who would not indeed, Madam.”
Such pleasant conversations. So comforting!
But the next day the little Duke of Gloucester was taken ill, and the Princess was in despair. He was bled but this did nothing to relieve him. Anne threw off her lethargy; she was at his bedside night and morning; her grief was terrible, but it gave her a dignity she had not shown before.
Abigail remembered the day the little Duke died, for she believed it was a turning point in her life.
The Princess Anne came to her apartments, Prince George of Denmark was with her, and they held hands like two lost children from whom all the joy of living had been removed.
Afterwards Prince George went to his apartments and the Princess was alone.
She did not want to see anyone—not even Lady Marlborough. She sat rocking to and fro, her hands over her face to shut out the world which was so full of memories of her beloved boy.
“I cannot believe it,” she kept murmuring to herself. “It cannot be true.”
All day she sat alone, refusing food which she had never been known to do before; and when it was time to retire she shook her head and told her women to go away.
Then she caught sight of Abigail and she said: “Let Hill remain. She can give me all the help I need.”
So Abigail helped her to bed and she talked of her boy while the tears slowly ran down her cheeks.
“It is what I dreaded, Hill. I dreaded it more than anything that could happen … and now it has come. What can I say, Hill? What can I do now?”
“Talk of him, Madam. Perhaps it will help you.”
So she talked and to her surprise was soothed; and she looked at the young face of her chambermaid, itself stained with tears and she said: