Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [80]
Charles looked even more handsome than he had the previous night, as dressed in his crimson coat he greeted the Queen and her attendants.
Anne found it difficult to suppress her yawns as the day went on. Dinner at three and then the long afternoon of entertainment before supper. Oh for an hour or so in the green closet! She saw that George felt as she did and was thinking longingly of that comfort.
Sarah of course felt no such desire. What energy! What vitality! Dear Mrs. Freeman makes me feel tired merely to look at her. But how handsome! How admired! And no wonder.
Charles was paying attention to her. Like everyone else he knew her importance. And how she enjoyed it! Such occasions were perfection to her. We are really quite different! thought Anne.
How glad she was that the supper was now over and there was dear Mrs. Freeman ready to perform her duty, standing before her with the bowl in which she would wash her hands and the towel across her arm.
But Charles had risen and was attempting to take the towel from Sarah’s arm.
Sarah said: “It was my duty and my honour to do this service for Her Majesty.”
Charles replied: “But at this time you will let me have that honour?”
He took the towel from Sarah and dipping it in the water, lifted one of Anne’s hands and washed it; and when he had done this he washed his own, while Sarah stood holding the bowl, with all eyes upon her; and then Charles took off a diamond ring and taking Sarah’s hand slipped it on her finger.
Sarah’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. This was an acknowledgment of her importance.
In their apartments Sarah held out her hand with the flashing diamond in it.
“Worth a fortune,” she said.
John took the hand and kissed it.
“You know why he did it?” he said.
“Because he knows that if he wishes for England’s support he has to have mine.”
“Spoken like my Sarah.”
“And how else should I speak, pray?”
“In no other way, for I would not have my Sarah different in any small detail.”
“So I am appreciated.”
He caught her in his arms.
“It pleases me,” she said, “to be embraced by the greatest genius of our day.”
“No,” he said, “it is the great genius who is being embraced.”
“Together we are supreme, John.”
“You understand the meaning of that gesture of the Archduke?” he asked her.
“Of course. I have just told you.”
“It’s more than that. His ancestor Charles V gave a diamond ring to the mistress of François Premier when she held the bowl for him in similar circumstances. But he left his in the bowl. Charles put his on your finger. He could not treat the Duchess of Marlborough as a King’s mistress.”
“I should hope not. I am a respectable woman and I am thankful that at least my fat friend sets a good moral example to her subjects.”
“Ah, Sarah, what of the Queen? Should you not be in attendance?”
“There is only one on whom I intend to attend this night, my lord. Why do you think I got Abigail Hill her place?”
“You think it wise to neglect her …” began John.
But she laughed in his face and such times as these were the most precious occasions for them both.
All over Christmas John remained in England, but he was making plans for his spring campaign. Sarah spent her time between the Queen and her husband and whenever possible they escaped to St. Albans. A sullen Mary had been given a place in the Queen’s household as lady in waiting on the death of Lady Charlotte Beverwaret. “Where I can keep an eye on her,” said Sarah grimly. But relations between mother and daughter were decidedly strained, for Mary was not one meekly to accept meddling in her life. John, distressed by the relationship between his wife and daughter, did all he could to put it right, but while Mary continued affectionate towards him she made it clear that she had no love for her mother.
“Who would have children!” cried Sarah. “Ungrateful