Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [43]
There was no doubt that Sarah believed herself already to be in command of the Queen and the country.
The procession of ministers and courtiers came and went until it was time for the new Queen to attend service. This she did in St. James’s chapel and then retired to the apartments which had belonged to her dead son, while her own were hung with mourning.
“It is sad,” said Anne, “that on this day I should have to be reminded of my sorrow.”
“Tush!” retorted Sarah impatiently. “Mrs. Morley will have many children. She should think rather of those than the lost ones.”
Anne’s eyes filled with tears. “I fear there could never be another like my boy.”
It was Abigail who was ready with a handkerchief to wipe away the tears and a quick almost furtive smile passed between them, which Sarah did not see.
“I think Your Majesty should wear purple for mourning,” announced Sarah. “It will be different from that which you have been wearing for your father.”
“So many deaths … all at one time!” mused Anne.
“But such as we need not bother our heads with!” said Sarah harshly.
Abigail thought: She is too confident.
And a great excitement seized her.
Lady Marlborough was in constant attendance. Even those menial tasks which she had left to Abigail were now performed by her. Some of the wits jokingly called her Queen Sarah.
Anne seemed content to have her favourite with her; they addressed each other in the old affectionate terms, but with Anne’s new rank Sarah too seemed to have assumed new dignity; it was quite clear that she saw herself as the power behind the throne.
Abigail had become merely the chambermaid and there were occasions when she believed that her original notion that the Queen had not really forgotten Sarah’s outburst were quite wrong. Judging by their conversation there appeared to be no doubt that Anne was as devoted as she had ever been.
“My dear Mrs. Freeman, I want you to have the Rangership of Windsor Park for life.”
“If Your Majesty insists,” said Sarah, modest for once.
“Of course I insist.”
“I had hoped to be Groom of the Stole and Mistress of the Robes so that I might be in constant attendance.”
“My dearest Mrs. Freeman, the posts are yours.”
“And the Privy Purse … Frankly, Mrs. Morley, I should hesitate to trust any with that.… I would take it on if Your Majesty insisted.…”
“You must take it on, Mrs. Freeman.”
Abigail’s heart sank. Anne must be completely besotted. What was this strange power of Sarah’s?
“Your Majesty has been so good to me,” said Sarah, “and that gives me great pleasure; but Your Majesty who so loves dear Mr. Morley will understand that I would give up everything that has come my way for one small honour for Mr. Freeman.”
“I remember how you once badly wanted the Garter for him,” said Anne.
“I am sure there is no one—just no one—at Court who deserves it more,” was the fierce rejoinder.
“You are right and it is only just that it should be his.”
“My dear Mrs. Morley!”
“My dearest Mrs. Freeman, so Morley has made you happy?”
It was incredible! thought Abigail. She had miscalculated; she would be an insignificant bedchamber woman for the rest of her days.
Sarah’s new posts brought in seven thousand five hundred a year, but Anne said that she needed more.
“You must allow me to give you a further two thousand, Mrs. Freeman.”
Sarah’s eyes sparkled, but of course she dared not accept. There would be trouble as there had been previously. She did not want it to be said that the Marlboroughs took too large a share of the Queen’s income. Their enemies would find some means of cutting down Anne’s allowance if that were spread about.
With great self-restraint Sarah declined her dear friend’s generous offer. But it was very satisfactory, as she explained to dear Marl. A Garter for him; fresh posts for herself; an added income; and most of all—power!
It was Sarah’s prerogative to bestow posts and that was one of the most profitable businesses in the country.
“Her Majesty will allow no places to be bestowed