Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [36]
“You have put them on by mistake, Lady Marlborough,” said Abigail timidly.
“So I am wearing gloves which have touched the odious hands of that disagreeable woman!” shrieked Sarah.
Abigail stood still, trying to stop herself from looking over her shoulder at that open door. Anyone in the next room could not fail to hear that shrill, strident voice.
“Take them away. Take them quickly. Ugh! How unpleasant.”
Abigail picked up the gloves which Sarah had thrown on to the floor and hastily left the room closing the door quietly behind her.
Anne was seated where Abigail had left her, and one look at her face was enough to show that she had overheard every word Sarah had said.
As Abigail laid the gloves on the table beside her, Anne said nothing, but her eyes met those of Abigail and in that moment there was a flash of understanding between them. Sarah Churchill was a disloyal friend to the Princess and they both knew it; the subject was too painful to be mentioned, but neither of them would forget what had happened; and because of it their own relationship had advanced a step further.
The King was a very sick man. He was beset by anxieties which were aggravated by his weak physical condition and his conscience. He would never forget the letter his wife had received on the morning of their coronation which her father James, from his exile in St. Germains under the protection of Louis XIV, had sent to her. James had said that Mary could not expect anything but the curses of a father whose crown she had allowed to be snatched from him.
Now he was getting near to death and he was constantly concerned with the problem of who should succeed him.
There was one person to whom he could talk with absolute ease. This was Elizabeth Villiers, whom he had made the Countess of Orkney. Elizabeth was the cleverest woman he had ever known; although she was not a beauty, she was to him the most fascinating woman in the world. It had always been so, from the moment he had first seen her. Her quick clever brain and her extraordinary eyes with the slight cast in them which had earned her the name of Squint-eyed Betty, attracted him now as they ever had. She had shown him, in the early days of his marriage, that he was human, after all, when he had overcome his Calvinistic principles and made her his mistress. He had never had another. Mary his wife had seemed a foolish child in comparison; and often he had wished that Elizabeth had been the eligible Princess, Mary her maid of honour.
Mary had been an admirable wife; now that she was dead he realized that more than ever; but on the last night of her life she had sat up writing a letter to him in which she had implored him, for the sake of his soul, to give up his mistress. That had been disconcerting enough; but this document she had left in the care of the Archbishop of Canterbury with a covering letter to the Archbishop explaining its contents. Thus it was known that his wife’s last wish was that he should discontinue the liaison; and such a wish could not be ignored. During the months following Mary’s death he had refrained from seeing Elizabeth; he had married her to George Hamilton whom he had created Earl of Orkney and many had believed that this marked the end of a relationship with a suitable prize in appreciation of past services. But he had not been able to cast off Elizabeth as easily as that; and although in England she had ceased to be his mistress, when he was in Holland she joined him there and the old relationship was resumed. But there had been no expressed wish in Mary’s last letter that he should not continue to discuss his problems with Elizabeth; and since it was a custom of many years to do this he continued in it. Her wit and wisdom were invaluable to him.
He retired to his cabinet, and using a secret staircase which he had had put in and which led to the apartments of the Countess of Orkney, he went to her.
Elizabeth greeted her lover with great pleasure. At least, she could scarcely call him lover