Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [52]
St. John was alert. He knew that it was for the purpose of inviting this fellow to the table that Harley had come to the coffee house.
A man of medium height with a sallow complexion and dark hair—he wore no wig—came over to the table.
“Sir,” he said with a bow, “your servant.”
“Be seated,” said Harley. “But first meet a friend, Henry St. John, who is eager to make your acquaintance.”
St. John looked startled, but Harley smiled.
“Harry, this is Daniel Defoe—a literary man. I hope you are acquainted with his work?”
The man turned his eager eyes on St. John who, taking his cue from Harley, said modestly: “It is an omission which I intend to rectify without delay.”
The grey eyes were idealist, the hooked nose and sharp chin betrayed a strength.
What is Harley up to? wondered St. John. But he began to guess.
He was going to use Defoe as he used everyone. Harley was a brilliant schemer; he was not called Robin the Trickster for nothing.
He was going to stand with Marlborough and Godolphin as one of the almighty three, but Harley was not the man to be one of three. He would want to stand alone, supreme.
This band of men, of whom Defoe was one, would be the secret army. They held a more deadly weapon than the generals, but the generals were too foolish to realize this. It was men such as Mr. Harley who were a step ahead of their contemporaries who became the leaders.
Harley had decided to use the hidden weapon against his foes. The Marlboroughs thought they were going to rule the country because of Sarah’s ascendancy over the Queen, but Harley had decided otherwise: he was going to stand supreme. And the fact that he had allowed Henry St. John to share this little confidence showed clearly that if St. John cared to attach himself to Harley he could go along with him; St. John cared. He cared very deeply.
So he was excited as he sat in the coffee house listening to talk between one of the country’s leading statesmen and the poor scribbler.
Parting was almost unendurable for John and Sarah. It was at such times that briefly they forgot ambition. Sarah was unable to control her tears—tears of sorrow were unusual with her, though she occasionally shed tears of rage. To let him go, her beloved John, into danger! So many hazards he would face; and he had so many enemies! What if she were never to see him again? Nothing then would be worthwhile. As for John, he had wanted to go to war for only at war could he prove his genius. He was a soldier first and foremost; he believed that this war was necessary to England. And yet what would he not have given at that moment of parting to leave everything and go back with Sarah to St. Albans.
He was worried about young John who was at cross purposes with his mother. Henrietta, now that she had escaped from the family circle by marriage, was as her mother said “saucy.” The only member of the family with whom Sarah really lived on amicable terms was Anne—and this was solely because Anne had a sweet disposition and it was impossible to quarrel with her.
He wanted to be in the circle of his family; he wished momentarily that he and Sarah could have abandoned ambition, the quest for wealth and fame