Виктория Холт - Courting Her Highness

It was not wise to brood on those days; there was too much sadness in nostalgia for a past which was lost for ever; but he could not stop thinking of how they had walked in the gardens, always talking of the child. There had come that September day—September days had ever after seemed tinged with sadness for him—just as the green leaves were touched with brown; their edges dry and shrivelled ready to fall from the trees to be trampled underfoot or swept up and destroyed, as his happiness had been. But how was he to guess then that soon his joy in life would be gone as surely as those bright leaves upon the trees.

Young Francis had been born on the third day of September—a healthy boy, which was what they had secretly longed for, although neither of them had admitted it. They had stoutly declared to each other that the sex of the child was unimportant, lest the other should think either one would be disappointed.

But a boy brought that moment of triumph. For two days they were at the peak of happiness. Then she took fever, and a week after the birth of Francis, Margaret was dead.

Sidney had had only one desire for a long time—that was to follow her. But he went on living, and in place of the love he had had for his wife he had built up ambition. His great relaxation was gambling and no amount of losses on horse racing could deter him. Consequently he was almost always in debt; but he was a brilliant politician.

John Evelyn, who had been almost as desolate as Sidney when Margaret died, had found his solace in Margaret’s son; and Sidney was glad of this, for he had a great respect for the writer. It was Evelyn who took charge of the boy’s education, who had advised his father to send him to Eton and afterwards to Cambridge. Francis was, at the time when Sarah Churchill had cast calculating eyes on him, eighteen years old.

Although the Churchill girls despised their cousin Abigail, she was far more observant than they were. When the Godolphins visited St. Albans it did not take her long to guess for what reason Sarah had invited them.

She watched Henrietta and Anne riding with Francis and one of the grooms: and she guessed that Francis was being offered a choice of the two girls, although Henrietta was the one her parents hoped he would select.

Why? wondered Abigail. The answer was simple. Because they wanted a marriage to take place as soon as possible, and Henrietta was older than Anne.

Abigail believed that their wish would be granted, for Henrietta, bold and dashing, was determined not to be put aside for her sister. She began to understand why Francis had been brought to St. Albans, and summed him up as a docile young man who could be trained to become the kind of husband whom she could dominate. To dominate was a need with her, as it was with her mother. She wanted her freedom. Marriage could give her that—and what better than marriage with a malleable man!

Anne, who had no desire for marriage with Francis Godolphin, was well content to remain in the background, leaving the field clear for Henrietta.

There had been no lavish hospitality for the Godolphins. The Earl of Marlborough had no intention of throwing away good money for that. Sidney Godolphin was a friend of his—at least as near a friend as they could have in their ambitious lives. They could go along together, be of use to each other; they shared their dreams of power; so if Godolphin could be persuaded to the marriage it would not be because of rich food being served from gold plate, but because he saw in it a useful alliance between two ambitious families.

But after the visit the Churchills were still uncertain.

The Earl and Countess walked in the gardens discussing it. Lady Marlborough’s strident voice floated over to Abigail Hill who had been sent to weed the flower border in the enclosed garden.

“What do you think, Marl?”

The Earl’s voice did not reach Abigail.

Sarah’s went on, “Well, if Sidney Godolphin thinks he’s too good for the Marlboroughs …” A low reproving murmur. “What do we care for him? And I’ll tell you this: I think he was considering very seriously. He knows what will happen when Caliban dies. And it must be soon. It must. It must. I had it from one of the pages that he’s spitting blood … badly. How does he go on? He must have a pact with the devil. That wouldn’t surprise me.” A pause. “Good gracious, Marl! Who would hear me out here? And what I say about him, I mean. What? Henrietta seemed taken with the boy? She had better be, Marl. She had better be.” Then: “I know. We married for love. But that boy’s not you. And Henrietta’s not me. We were different. You must see that.” The sounds of laughter. “I tell you this, John Churchill, I’ll have Henrietta married to Francis Godolphin if I have to whip her to the altar.”

Abigail went on weeding. She was thinking of the future of Henrietta, married to Francis Godolphin. A place of honour at Court. Lady Marlborough would make sure of that—and the children they would have would belong to the Churchills and the Godolphins.

Abigail stood up to press her hands to her aching back. How exciting to play a part in moulding affairs of state. What fun to be at the Court, to make decisions!

How she would enjoy that!

She laughed at herself. She was imagining herself a Godolphin or a Churchill. As if such opportunities would ever come her way!

There were more visits from the Godolphins, and Francis and Henrietta seemed as though they would fall in with their parents’ wishes for they clearly enjoyed each other’s company.

Henrietta’s seventeenth birthday came and although the Earl of Marlborough wished his daughter to wait a little, his wife was impatient and Abigail was sure that soon she would have her way.

Then an event occurred which was clearly the first step towards the change in the Marlboroughs’ fortunes.

The King had evidently decided that much as he distrusted Marlborough it was better to have him on his side than against him, and while he was skulking in semi-banishment William could not be sure what mischief he would stir up. He knew of the rapprochement between the Marlborough and Godolphin families; he would therefore feel happier with Marlborough at Court in some post which he valued.

The Duke of Gloucester was now nine years old and it was necessary to establish him in a household of his own. Anne would readily agree to Marlborough’s being appointed her son’s Governor, so this seemed the obvious solution.

William sent for Marlborough and when the Earl had kissed his hand he said: “The Princess Anne would welcome your appointment to the household of the Duke of Gloucester and I myself believe that none could do the job better.”

William was indeed in a gracious mood for he went on: “Teach him to be what you are and my nephew will never want accomplishments.”

Perhaps there was an ambiguity in the remark; but John Churchill was not going to question it. He assured the King that he would accept the post with pleasure and would perform it to the best of his abilities.

When John told Sarah of the good news, she was delighted.

“This is the end of our misfortunes,” she declared. “Even the Dutchman sees that we cannot be ignored for ever.”

And it seemed that she was right, for following on John’s appointment to the governorship William sent for him once more and told him that he should be restored to his old rank in the Army; nor was that all; he was to rejoin the Privy Council.

Sarah was delighted. “Now,” she said, “with you back at Court and Henrietta soon to marry Francis Godolphin we really can begin to get to work.”

The Princess Anne reclining on her couch, to rest her swollen legs, listened with pleasure to Sarah’s account of Marlborough’s restored glory.