Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [45]
“I believe even Mr. Freeman is afraid of you.”
“Then I am the only one in the world he is afraid of. Of course later on it may well be that young John will join his father, but not yet.”
“How fortunate you are, Mrs. Freeman, to have children. I often think that if my boy had lived and I had been able to give him brothers and sisters I should have been a very happy woman. I would willingly give my crown in exchange for a family of boys and girls. Sometimes when I see my poorest subjects …”
“Well, well, we have to accept our lot. And now, Madam, if you are to be in time for your coronation …”
Abigail listening, marvelled at the temerity of a woman who could cut short the Queen. Yet here was Sarah taking the important posts while she, Abigail, who let the Queen talk, who always agreed with her and soothed, had to dissolve into the background as soon as Sarah appeared, and emerge again only when she could make herself useful.
It was eleven o’clock when Anne was carried in her sedan chair from St. James’s Palace to Westminster Hall.
She was deeply conscious of her state, for since she had become Queen she had thought more and more seriously of her position. She wanted to be a good Queen; she wanted her people to love her; as she had told dear George: If she looked upon the people as her children she could find some compensation for the loss of her dear boy.
In the Hall she remained seated while the company was assembled for the procession to the Abbey. As her husband followed the Archbishop of Canterbury into the Hall he looked for her, and when he saw her his expression was one of such tenderness that she thanked God for giving her such a good man.
I am happily married, she thought, and the only sorrow in our union is the loss of all our babies and the greatest sorrow of all, that of our boy.
George was a dear man, although he was rather dull; he did eat too much and drink too much, but he was never bad-tempered. He became more and more affable as he grew more and more sleepy; and when he murmured “Est-il possible?” which was his favourite phrase he meant to encourage those who were talking to him. It was true that she found the company of Sarah more amusing and that of Abigail Hill more soothing—but George was a good man, and the best possible husband for her.
He was concerned now for her feet which were so tortured by gout and dropsy, but she flashed him a smile to assure him that she was managing well enough.
She was helped into the open chair in which she would be carried and the procession set out through New Palace Yard towards the west door of the Abbey. The sight of the Queen in her chair, the circle of gold set with diamonds on her abundant curled hair, the kindliest of smiles on her placid face, set the people cheering and shouting “God Save the Queen.” Tears were in her eyes; she wanted to tell them that she loved them all, that she regarded them as her children; that she wanted to care for them and bring good to them.
It was a moving ceremony. She thought of all those who had passed through it before her and naturally she must remember her father. She reminded herself that he had forgiven her before he died; and at least he was not alive now, so she was not taking the throne from him. How different it had been with poor Mary who had been crowned while he lived, and had received a letter from him on the very morning of the coronation in which he had cursed her.
It was a thrilling moment when the Archbishop presented her to the people.
“I here present unto you Queen Anne, undoubted Queen of this realm. Whereas all you that are come here this day to do your homages and service, are you willing to do the same?”
The cry echoed through the Abbey. “God save Queen Anne.”
The trumpets burst forth and the choir rose to sing: “The Queen shall rejoice in Thy strength, O Lord; exceeding glad shall she be of Thy salvation! Thou shalt present her with the blessings of goodness, and shall set a crown of pure gold on her head.”
Anne deeply