Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II (7 page)

Sarah folded the letter and put it away. She liked the terms in which it was written; they showed a proper modesty and appreciation.

Sarah swept through
the apartments at the Cockpit like a cold wind. All those about the Princess Anne understood that if they wished to prosper they must placate Sarah Churchill because it was clear that, as had been the case for some time, she had more influence with the Princess than any other person. As for the Prince, he was easy enough, being completely contented with his marriage. Here he was, with an affectionate undemanding wife; all he had to do was sleep with her, a pleasant enough occupation, for he was a sensual man, but too lazy to want to hunt for his own quarry; he could eat and drink his fill, chat a little, play cards with his wife; oh, it was a pleasant life. It was true that the King dumbfounded him a little with his witty conversation, but most of this was unintelligible to Prince George and he made no attempt to understand it.

Charles said of him: “God’s fish, what have we here? I have tried him drunk and I’ve tried him sober but can make nothing of him, but the Princess Anne seems satisfied, so it may be she has been more fortunate than I.”

And when shortly after the marriage it was announced that the Princess was pregnant, Charles remarked that although his nephew by marriage seemed lacking in wit and political knowledge he had given proof of his abilities as a husband—which was all they need be concerned with.

As for Anne, she was pleased with the marriage; she grew more and more fond of George every day. He never argued with her and never made any demands on her intelligence; he was as excited by food as she was—and there were very few others who were quite so enthusiastic about it. He was teaching her how to improve the dishes by drinking the right wine; and when they went to bed, slightly intoxicated, she found marriage most enjoyable.

She assured herself that she was more sorry than ever for her poor dear Mary, and she wrote very frequently to her sister telling her of affairs in England and how she longed to visit The Hague or that Mary should come to England. Poor Mary, she had had two miscarriages and it did not seem now as though she would be pregnant again. Anne heard distressing reports from various sources in Holland. Caliban was impotent, some said; and yet from other sources came the news that he spent his nights with Elizabeth Villiers. Even so there was no news of Elizabeth’s giving birth to a royal bastard, so perhaps he was impotent after all.

Such a matter was not one to be discussed with anyone but Sarah; and as it happened it was a topic Sarah loved.

“I am indiscreet with you, Madam,” said Sarah, “though never with anyone else. And I tell you this: Caliban is incapable of begetting children. They say his asthma is terrible. I do not think he will live long. Then we hear these stories of your sister’s ague. An ailing sister, an asthmatical Orange—and let me tell you, Madam, that if your sister were to die,
he
would have to take a few steps back. And your father a papist! Madam, I believe that one day I shall have the honor of serving the Queen of England.”

“Oh, let be,” said Anne, “I am happy enough as I am.”

“Those who love you have ambitions for you, Madam.”

“I have always said, Sarah, that you are too ambitious.”

Sarah was alert suddenly. Was that a warning? Anne did not care to hear criticism of her father, nor did she like references to her sister’s death. Anne needed to be molded, thought Sarah.

She smiled, looking down at capable hands—an outward sign of a mind which could dominate a weaker one and was well able to do the molding.

“Not for myself, Madam,” she said more quietly than usual, “only for the one I serve with heart and soul.”

Sarah would have
liked to choose Anne’s attendants. That was not possible. She did not really fear people like Lady Fitzharding and Mrs. Danvers. Mrs. Danvers occupied a minor position and was of no great importance. Lady Fitzharding had been Barbara Villiers and was a sister to Elizabeth who, rumor had it, was now the mistress of the Prince of Orange. Sarah thought she might be useful; for, it would be necessary, for the time being, to feign friendship with the Princess of Orange. There was one other, though, who was far too important in the household and this was Anne’s aunt, the Countess of Clarendon.

The Countess’s husband, Henry Hyde, Earl of Clarendon was the brother of Anne’s mother and, because of this relationship Flower, Countess of Clarendon, held a high position in the Princess’s household, being the first Lady of the Bedchamber—a post which in Sarah’s opinion clearly should belong to her; but because of Lady Clarendon’s age and the fact that she had long been close to Anne, she wielded great influence. Something of a scholar she deplored Anne’s lack of scholarship and had in fact tried to turn her niece’s interest to something other than cards, gossip, and food; this did not endear her to Anne and made Sarah’s task of turning the Princess against Lady Clarendon simpler than it might have been.

Just at this time, however, Anne’s thoughts were occupied with her pregnancy and Sarah realized that little else interested her except a good game of cards and her food. She grew larger and larger and Sarah was in constant attendance.

She did attempt one or two thrusts at Lady Clarendon.

She was silent one day as she sat with the Princess and, although absorbed as she was with her own concerns, Anne remarked on this—for it was unlike Sarah not to talk incessantly.

“Oh, Madam,” said Sarah distantly, “my lot in your service is not always a comfortable one.”

Anne was alarmed. “My dearest Sarah, what
do
you mean?”

“Oh … it is the Clarendon creature. What airs she gives herself. I know she is your aunt—but your mother’s family were remarkably fortunate to be linked with royalty.
She
gives herself airs. And all because she is a Countess and I am plain Mrs. Churchill.”

“It seems wrong that that should be,” said Anne thoughtfully.

Sarah gave her a sharp look. Would she draw herself from her lethargy sufficiently long to remember?

Anne’s father came
to visit her at the Cockpit. James had once been handsome, but the events of the last years had been a strain on him and he looked drawn and sallow. He was tall, but not as tall as his brother and although more handsome than Charles, although possessed of a certain dignity of manner, he was singularly lacking in charm.

But as his eyes fell on his daughter his face was lighted by a great affection and he seemed almost young.

“My dearest,” he said, “how are you?”

“Very well, dear father,” Anne told him. “All goes well, they tell me, and I may expect a fine boy.”

“Do not set your hopes on that, my love. Be content with a daughter if a daughter it should be. You have so quickly conceived that I am sure you will have a large family.”

“It is what George and I want more than anything.”

He kissed her gently on the forehead. “It pleases me to see you so happy. Would I could feel as contented for Mary.” His face hardened. “I never wanted that marriage. I feel we have brought a viper into our close family circle.”

“Sarah calls him Caliban. I am sure he is a monster. I cannot understand how dear Mary tolerates him. I am sure I never would.”

“I fear he is subduing her, making her his creature … perhaps trying to turn her against us all. He’ll never do that. I know my Mary.” He smiled sentimentally at Anne. “I thank God for giving me my dearest daughters. So many children I have had and lost; but I always remind myself that I was allowed to keep two. My dearest Mary; my blessed Anne. We shall always love and cherish each other as long as we shall live.”

“Yes, dear father,” said Anne, wondering what there would be for dinner.

“And although I am parted from Mary, I know that she continues to love me dearly. It is a secret, daughter, but I do not wish to have secrets from you. Do not mention this to anyone. But if it were in my power to break that Dutch marriage I would do so. And I believe it might be in my power. There is just cause. Mary is childless and he … the Dutchman … spends his night with another woman.”

“Fitzharding’s sister, Elizabeth Villiers. It is a well-known scandal.”

“A well-known scandal—and my daughter the wife of such a monster! Unfortunately, my dear, your uncle will not have the marriage disturbed. But …”

Anne nodded sleepily. Her father very frequently spent
his
nights in the beds of his mistresses. Uncle Charles was not looking so well of late; but each night
he
took one of his mistresses to bed; and it was said that he would not accept his flagging vigor and resorted to artificial means to revive it. Fair enough, whispered his courtiers. Who would not do the like? But what effect was this having on the royal body; and how long could it be expected to stand the strain?

“Well,” said James, “that is not for us to discuss now. And my dear daughter is well and everything is progressing as it should. I can scarcely wait for the good news. I shall be near you, dearest, all the time; and if there is anything you want, all you need do is ask for it. You know your father is never happier than when he is pleasing you.”

All she need do was ask? It was true. He was the most indulgent of parents.

“Father,” she said, “there is one thing I would ask.”

His face lit up with pleasure, “My darling daughter, I promise if it is in my power …”

“It is not for me, Father, but I have a great friend who has not been as well treated as she should be. I believe you are very pleased with the services Colonel Churchill has rendered you?”

“He is a good man, and I believe a faithful friend to me.”

“You need good men and faithful friends, father. Do you think that sometimes we take the goodness of those close to us for granted?”

“It may be so.”

“My best friend and the kindest of my women is plain Mrs. while others who are less kind flaunt great titles. It is our duty, is it not, Father, to reward those who serve us?”

He nodded.

“Why, my blessed one, you are asking that the Churchills be honored in some way?”

“A title for the Colonel, so that Sarah may be Lady Churchill to these women of mine and not plain Mrs.”

James patted her hand. “That does not seem to me to be an insurmountable difficulty,” he said fondly.