Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [48]
“She shall be reminded, I promise you. Have no fear, Marl; the Treasury shall go to Godolphin. And there is one other matter I wish to take up with you. It’s our own young John. I believe you have been encouraging him.”
“Oh, come, Sarah, it’s natural enough the boy should want to follow his father’s profession.”
“In due course. At the moment he stays at Cambridge.”
“Well, that is agreed. But there is surely no need for you to continue to show the boy your displeasure. He has obeyed you. Is that not enough?”
“I do not expect my children to attempt to disobey me.”
“He is but a boy.”
“But he was ready to defy me!”
John laughed affectionately. She was overbearing and arrogant, but the magic of her presence never failed to enchant him. With her flashing blue eyes and the indignant colour in her cheeks, he thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Even his daughters—beauties all—could not compete with their mother.
She should have her way, of course—even though he must lay a gentle restraining hand on her.
“Sarah, my love, do not let our son feel the force of your displeasure too long.”
“He will have to learn that I know what is best for him. But … there are important matters which need attention. I shall see Godolphin without delay and point out where his duty lies.”
Sarah came into the Queen’s bedchamber where Abigail was kneeling at Anne’s feet, bathing her swollen ankles.
“Hill has such gentle hands,” murmured Anne.
“Yes, yes,” said Sarah, signing to Abigail to get up, take her basin and be gone.
Abigail raised her eyes to the Queen who nodded her head slightly, at which Abigail dried and powdered the royal feet, while Sarah looked on impatiently. With lowered eyes, Abigail was asking herself: How can the Queen allow this? But she seems to enjoy her servitude to this woman.
Sarah waved a hand and Abigail, clasping the bowl in her hand, left the apartment.
As she went on, Abigail heard Anne murmur: “Such a good creature.”
“I have matters which must be discussed between us two. Hill can come back later and do what you wish.”
“Pray be seated, dear Mrs. Freeman.”
“Well,” said Sarah, “you will have noticed how those who have hitherto treated you with contempt have now miraculously become your friends. We must be very watchful of such; but you can trust me to be on the alert for them.”
“You are thinking of …”
“Your uncle, Rochester. Oh, he is now preening himself, I can tell you. Uncle to Her Majesty the Queen of England! Never mind if before he treated her with contempt. Never mind if he sided with that arch scoundrel, that Dutch Abortion! Never mind if he voted to reduce your income! Never mind if he never came near you when your sister and her miserable spouse picked their quarrels with you! Oh, never mind! Now he comes creeping back and would be My Lord Treasurer … if you please.”
“It is true that he was not always my friend, but I have heard that he is an able man, and as my uncle …”
“I know that Mrs. Morley would never forget her true friends. When I think of what a good friend Sidney Godolphin has been to you, when I think of the brilliance of that man! I said to Mr. Freeman: I know Her Majesty, my dearest Mrs. Morley, I know that she is not one to be led astray by the whining of curs who a short time ago were yapping at her heels.”
“It’s true of course, Mrs. Freeman.”
“Mrs. Morley agrees with me that Mr. Freeman is a genius … an absolute genius. She can safely leave the conduct of her armies to him. In the past he has had to suffer the envy of others less gifted. But that is over now. There is only one man with whom he could work and it is an essential fact that the Queen’s commander of the Armies and her Chief Minister must work together.”
“I do agree.”
“Then it can only