Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [57]
“Your Majesty is very tired,” Hill would murmur.
“So tired, Hill. So very tired.”
“Lady Marlborough is so amusing. But I think her brilliant conversation has tired your Majesty.”
“She is indeed brilliant, Hill. And how handsome she is! I declare it is a joy to look at her. I have so much to be thankful to her for, Hill.”
“And she to Your Majesty.”
“We have been friends since we were children, Hill. I was taken with her from the beginning and so happy when she wanted to become my friend. And one of the nicest things she ever did, was to bring you to me, Hill. There! Just soothe my brow. I have a headache and there is quite a magic in those fingers of yours.”
Triumph … in a strange way, thought Abigail.
Sarah had brought her daughter Elizabeth with her to Court. Elizabeth was just past fifteen and a charming girl. Sarah was fond of her because not only was she very beautiful and accomplished but she did not argue as Henrietta did, nor was she petulant like Mary. Elizabeth was a perfect daughter because she bore such a striking resemblance to her father. Anne was serene also, but her marriage to Sunderland had naturally made her withdrawn from her mother and Sarah was not completely satisfied with her daughter Anne; therefore, at this time, Elizabeth was her favourite. Young John, the Marquis of Blandford, now at Cambridge, was definitely in her bad books. It was not so much the fact that he wanted to go against her wishes but that he had dared consult his father and tried to form an alliance against her. That was something she would not tolerate.
Elizabeth however had always been amenable and she was surprised therefore when the girl came to her and told her that she had fallen in love.
“What!” screamed Sarah.
“Mamma, I know I am young but I am certain of my feelings and I shall never have another moment’s happiness unless you give your consent.”
“Have you gone out of your mind?”
Elizabeth’s lips trembled and Sarah noticed with satisfaction how very much in awe of her she was. But in love! With a man of her own choosing! Could anyone be so ignorant of her duty as a Churchill!
“You had better tell me all about this folly, girl,” said Sarah grimly.
“Scroop says that he does not wish to wait.”
“Scroop?” cried Sarah.
“Scroop Egerton.”
Sarah was silent. Scroop Egerton, fourth Earl of Bridgewater, Master of Horse to Prince George! This was different. She would have no objection to accepting him as her son-in-law. He would be another supporter for dearest Marl.
Her voice softened. “So, my dearest Elizabeth, you have seen fit to affiance yourself to this young man without my consent?”
“Mamma, Scroop wishes to speak to you. He says that he is sure he can persuade you.…”
“And you little more than fifteen!”
“My sisters were not much older.”
“I cannot think what your dearest father will say.”
“He will be pleased if you are, Mamma.”
She smiled complacently. It was true—although she had had to persuade him to accept Sunderland. It was not that Sunderland was not an excellent match, but dear Marl had wondered whether his beloved daughter would be happy with the man. Dear Marl! Just a little sentimental. And what was he going to say about Elizabeth’s marrying at fifteen!
But Scroop Egerton, Earl of Bridgewater! That did warrant some consideration.
“I must have time to think about this, my dear child. You have somewhat thrust it upon me.”
Elizabeth threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Oh, dearest Mamma, please give your consent. I could not bear to be separated from Scroop—and equally I could not bear to displease you!”
Sarah patted the girl’s head. Sweet creature. Next to Marl, she thought, I believe I love her best in the world.
Sarah shooed everyone out of the apartment and sat down by the Queen’s couch.
“Who would have children, Mrs. Morley! I do declare it is just one thing after another.”
Anne looked tearful. Who would have children? She would if she could. She would have given her crown to have her boy back again.