tittle-tattle of Anne’s conversation.
“I do declare,” she told her husband, “that I am beginning to loathe that woman.”
“For God’s sake, Sarah, have a care of what you say.”
“My dear Marl, there is no need for you to tell me how to behave. Is it not largely my doing that we are where we are today?”
Marlborough had to admit the truth of this. “But, Sarah,” he added, “when I think of your frankness I do not know why our enemies have not overthrown us long ago.”
“Old Morley knows me as I am and accepts me as such. I have always been free with her and she has raised no objection. I am not going to change now. But as I was saying she sometimes sickens me so that I feel I shall scream if she touches me. It was clever of me to give her Abigail Hill. That creature now has to do all the
loathsome
tasks. I hear she does them well too and Anne has no complaints. She says she is a good creature. ‘Good but dull,’ I said; and she replied ‘Dullness is sometimes a comfort.’ But I do declare that she is a trial, particularly since Gloucester’s death.”
“Well, I suppose I need not tell you to be careful. You know what you are doing.”
“And when have I ever failed you?”
“Never!” Marlborough assured her.
Sarah not only showed her growing impatience with Anne to her husband, but also to Abigail. The girl was so much her creature, Sarah believed, that she had no need to speak anything but freely in her presence.
On several occasions she spoke slightingly of the Princess and Abigail made no comment. She merely listened in that quiet way of hers as though she were not in the least surprised.
Sarah was behaving as though she were already the Sovereign.
Abigail continued surprised and startled at the effrontery of her relation; and she often wondered how Anne would feel if she knew how far Sarah went in her condemnation of her. Sarah was inclined to be what she would call frank, to Anne’s face, but of course she reserved the real abuse to be uttered behind her back.
Abigail did not speak of Sarah’s abuse of the Princess, even to Samuel Masham. She was by nature discreet and she was not sure what her position would be if Sarah fell out of favour. And she could not believe that Sarah would
not
fall out of favour if Anne heard some of the really wounding things which were said of her.
At the same time she dearly wanted to know what Anne would do if she knew how very disloyal Sarah could be.
One day she was helping the Princess to dress and Anne and she were alone together. Since her quarrel with her sister who had now been dead more than six years Anne had not stood on any great ceremony. For a time she had lived very humbly indeed at The Cockpit and Berkeley House and had even spent a month or so in the country at Twickenham, living the simple life of a noble lady. Now William realized that if he were to keep his throne he must treat Anne as the heiress and she had moved to St. James’s Palace and spent her summers at Windsor Castle, but she had not gone back to living in the state which would have been natural to her rank. Therefore there were many occasions when she allowed only one of her maids to assist at her toilet.
Abigail was looking for the Princess’s gloves when Anne said: “I remember, Hill, I left them in the adjoining room. Pray go and get them for me.”
Abigail at once obeyed, and as she opened the connecting door between the two rooms saw Lady Marlborough sitting at a table reading a letter while she absentmindedly drew on a pair of gloves which Abigail recognized as those of the Princess Anne.
For a second Abigail hesitated. She could shut the door so that whatever Sarah said would be unheard by the Princess; or she could leave it open and the words would be heard.
A fleeting temptation. Sarah would not know that Anne was within earshot, and Anne did not know that Sarah was in the next room.
Abigail held the door open for a second; then she made up her mind.
“I do declare,” she told her husband, “that I am beginning to loathe that woman.”
“For God’s sake, Sarah, have a care of what you say.”
“My dear Marl, there is no need for you to tell me how to behave. Is it not largely my doing that we are where we are today?”
Marlborough had to admit the truth of this. “But, Sarah,” he added, “when I think of your frankness I do not know why our enemies have not overthrown us long ago.”
“Old Morley knows me as I am and accepts me as such. I have always been free with her and she has raised no objection. I am not going to change now. But as I was saying she sometimes sickens me so that I feel I shall scream if she touches me. It was clever of me to give her Abigail Hill. That creature now has to do all the
loathsome
tasks. I hear she does them well too and Anne has no complaints. She says she is a good creature. ‘Good but dull,’ I said; and she replied ‘Dullness is sometimes a comfort.’ But I do declare that she is a trial, particularly since Gloucester’s death.”
“Well, I suppose I need not tell you to be careful. You know what you are doing.”
“And when have I ever failed you?”
“Never!” Marlborough assured her.
Sarah not only showed her growing impatience with Anne to her husband, but also to Abigail. The girl was so much her creature, Sarah believed, that she had no need to speak anything but freely in her presence.
On several occasions she spoke slightingly of the Princess and Abigail made no comment. She merely listened in that quiet way of hers as though she were not in the least surprised.
Sarah was behaving as though she were already the Sovereign.
Abigail continued surprised and startled at the effrontery of her relation; and she often wondered how Anne would feel if she knew how far Sarah went in her condemnation of her. Sarah was inclined to be what she would call frank, to Anne’s face, but of course she reserved the real abuse to be uttered behind her back.
Abigail did not speak of Sarah’s abuse of the Princess, even to Samuel Masham. She was by nature discreet and she was not sure what her position would be if Sarah fell out of favour. And she could not believe that Sarah would
not
fall out of favour if Anne heard some of the really wounding things which were said of her.
At the same time she dearly wanted to know what Anne would do if she knew how very disloyal Sarah could be.
One day she was helping the Princess to dress and Anne and she were alone together. Since her quarrel with her sister who had now been dead more than six years Anne had not stood on any great ceremony. For a time she had lived very humbly indeed at The Cockpit and Berkeley House and had even spent a month or so in the country at Twickenham, living the simple life of a noble lady. Now William realized that if he were to keep his throne he must treat Anne as the heiress and she had moved to St. James’s Palace and spent her summers at Windsor Castle, but she had not gone back to living in the state which would have been natural to her rank. Therefore there were many occasions when she allowed only one of her maids to assist at her toilet.
Abigail was looking for the Princess’s gloves when Anne said: “I remember, Hill, I left them in the adjoining room. Pray go and get them for me.”
Abigail at once obeyed, and as she opened the connecting door between the two rooms saw Lady Marlborough sitting at a table reading a letter while she absentmindedly drew on a pair of gloves which Abigail recognized as those of the Princess Anne.
For a second Abigail hesitated. She could shut the door so that whatever Sarah said would be unheard by the Princess; or she could leave it open and the words would be heard.
A fleeting temptation. Sarah would not know that Anne was within earshot, and Anne did not know that Sarah was in the next room.
Abigail held the door open for a second; then she made up her mind.
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