Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [56]
“George, you are going to sleep again,” Anne was saying. “A little game of cards will keep you awake. Hill. Get the cards. Call in Masham. He plays a good hand. Then join us.”
Abigail rose from the harpsichord, eager to obey.
Anne smiled at her. The dear good creature!
It was an uneasy summer. Marlborough was out of England fighting the French and Sarah watched constantly for news of him; without him to lay the restraining hand on her—he was the only one who dared do this—she was more blatantly outspoken than ever. She thought nothing of interrupting the Queen, hectoring her and even showing her irritation. She was nicknamed Queen or Viceroy Sarah. Anne meekly accepted her behaviour, and to Abigail’s secret chagrin it seemed to have no undermining effect on their relationship. How could she, wondered Abigail, after overhearing that most unkind and unwarranted attack over the gloves, ever feel the same towards Mrs. Freeman again. But apparently she did. What was the magnetic attraction of the woman that could have made a Queen all but grovel to her, and an ambitious libertine, as Marlborough had certainly been before he met her, become her devoted slave? Slave was a word one thought of when one considered people’s relationship with Sarah. She would wish to see us all her slaves! thought Abigail. She is invincible.
But often an insistent voice within her said: Not quite. And when she listened to that voice, life became wonderfully exciting to Abigail.
She took every opportunity of talking to Samuel Masham. They discussed affairs; it was surprising what that young man discovered; and he was always eager to impart what he knew to Abigail. There was no doubt, he told Abigail, that John Churchill was a brilliant soldier. He was a born leader; so calm, so serene, so courteous to all, yet he was always firmly in control and his men were ready to follow him to the death. Even those who envied his command grudgingly admitted that when he was engaged in war he showed a quality which might well be genius. Small wonder that Marlborough wanted to conduct a war against England’s enemies. Thus he would show the world his own greatness, and at the same time add to England’s stature.
“Marlborough abroad, his lady at home …” mused Samuel. “They are invincible.”
During that summer Marlborough drove the French from the Maas and the Lower Rhine. It was an achievement which put new hope into the hearts of the Allies and apprehension in those of the enemy.
Sarah, as news of her husband’s triumphs was brought to her, grew more and more aggressive. Sometimes, though, when she received his letters, she would take them to her private apartments and shed a few tears over them. His love for her was always the theme of those letters. He did not consider he had had any real success in the battlefield as yet, he told her, but he knew it would come. He was aware of the power within him, but everything he would give up—all hope of advancement and honour—for the sake of being with his dearest Sarah.
Sarah allowed herself moments of tenderness when she kissed his letters and put them away to be re-read later. Then she set about making everyone aware that as the wife of the greatest genius living she received the respect due to her, and ranting through the apartments, quarrelling with everyone, she was a great trial to all.
Even Anne would sigh sometimes and, when Sarah had left, send for Hill to soothe her with gentle massage and that wonderful gift of being able to listen. Hill would ask questions that had been asked before; would ask to hear what the Queen’s dear boy had done on such and such occasion although she had heard it many times before. Dear, kind Hill! Anne found herself thinking