Виктория Холт: The Queen's Devotion: The Story of Queen Mary II

“Left my service! Sarah! Sarah has always been with me, right from the beginning. You remember those days when we were in Richmond ... when we were little.”

“Yes, I remember, but it seems that it would be better now if you dispensed with her services.”

“Why?”

I could not tell her what had been discovered. I must wait until William had dealt with Marlborough. Then Anne would understand. Perhaps I should have waited for that.

“I am of the opinion,” Anne was saying coolly, “that I am the best person to judge who shall and who shall not be in my household.”

“You allow her to guide you. She is the mistress here ... not you.”

“She never forgets that I am the Princess.”

“Mrs. Morley, Mrs. Freeman,” I reminded her.

“We always liked names. What about you and Frances Apsley?”

“We were young. This is different. Think of your position.”

“My position tells me that I should choose my own household.”

“It is obvious that that woman rules you. She gives herself airs such as I never saw before. She behaves as though she is the mistress.”

“Oh dear,” said Anne. “You are upsetting me. In my condition . . .”

She trailed off and watched me warily. Of course, she was enceinte. When was she not?

“The doctors said I should not excite myself,” she said plaintively. “They say I should rest more.”

“Rest more? How could you possibly do that? You are always resting. There would have to be more hours in the day for you to rest more.”

She took up her fan and feebly fanned herself.

“Oh dear,” she murmured.

I believed she was playacting, but I could not be sure, and as she had often attempted childbirth and the only result was little William, I dared not provoke her in any way.

I said to her: “Think about it.”

“I do not have to think about it,” she said. “Sarah is my greatest friend. I could not lose my greatest friend.”

“You have good friends. William and I have always been good friends to you.”

“Sarah has always been my greatest friend.”

“You are ungrateful.”

She looked at me coldly. “We could both be accused of that, could we not ... by some?”

She had put on a pious look, and I was sure now that she had written to our father. I wondered if she knew of the grand plan to put her on the throne.

If so, it did not disturb her; she would remain in her chair resting, while she nibbled her sweetmeats and handed over the power to the Marlboroughs.

She must have seen the hopelessness in my face, for she said: “I will never give up Sarah.”

There was nothing more I could do.

I took my leave and went back to Kensington.

The next morning, when Marlborough presented himself at the palace to perform his duties as one of the Lords of the Bedchamber, Lord Nottingham drew him aside and informed him that his services at court would no longer be required.

THERE WAS CONSTERNATION throughout the capital. The great Marlborough, dismissed from court, stripped of his appointments!

What could this mean?

The main theory was that he had been guilty of fraud. There had been occasional rumors that he had not been entirely scrupulous, and his love of money — as well as power — were well known.

I wondered what the reaction would have been if they had known he was suspected of conspiring against us and was in touch with my father.

It was all so distressing. I was filled with anxiety, and had been so ever since I became Queen.

I was anxious about William. If only he could win the people’s affections. My uncle had had that quality in abundance; my father had had it to some degree. If only he had not become a Catholic ... I was back to the old theme.

They were still talking about Glencoe and blaming William for it. William had doubtless acted carelessly, being at the time concerned with weightier matters. The fact was that he had signed that order hastily, without realizing what effect it would have. And the people were only too ready to lay the blame on him.

The Civil War in Scotland had continued even after the death of John Graham of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee, known to his admirers as Bonnie Dundee. Some few months ago a proclamation had been issued to pardon all those who, by the end of the year, signed an oath to live peacefully under the government. MacIan of Glencoe, head of the MacDonald clan, went to Fort William to give the pledge, but finding there was no magistrate there, went on to give it at Inverary. It was a long journey; the roads were snowbound, and he did not get there until the sixth of January; and before he could sign the oath, the Campbells, the sworn enemies of the MacDonalds, taking advantage of the fact that the oath had not been signed, sent word to William that it would be right and proper, in the vindication of public justice, to extirpate that “set of thieves” who refused to obey the law. Knowing nothing of the reason for the delay in signing, William agreed and so gave his permission for the massacre of Glencoe, which was carried out in the most barbarous manner.

When this came to light through those who had escaped to tell the tale, William received as much of the blame as the bloodthirsty Campbells who had been responsible for the outrage. But, of course, the people seized on anything they could bring against a king they so much disliked.

The Marlborough scandal though was the topic which held everyone’s attention, and there were unscrupulous people who sought to turn it to advantage. I remembered how Queen Catherine had suffered through Titus Oates and his popish plot, and Titus Oates had made a fortune out of it. He had lost it in the end, it was true, but people who make such plans believe that they will be wiser and will profit from the experience of those who have gone before.

People were now talking about a man named Robert Young. He had uncovered a conspiracy. He said there was a plot to kill the King and Queen and bring James back and leading men in the country were involved in this. He had news of a certain document which they had all signed and which was hidden in the house of one of the conspirators — Thomas Sprat, Bishop of Rochester.

If they would search his house, they would find the incriminating paper hidden in a flowerpot — the Bishop’s hobby being gardening, this might not be as strange as it sounded.

It all seemed wildly incredible, but such accusations must be investigated and a search was made.

To the astonishment of all, the document Young described was found rolled up and hidden in a flowerpot. As Young said, it set out an intention to murder William and me and bring back my father. It was signed by a number of well-known men — among them Sprat himself, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Salisbsury, Lord Cornbury — and Marlborough.

I do not believe much credence would have been given to the authenticity of the plot, had William not been waiting for an opportunity to put Marlborough under arrest, and he seized on this.

Marlborough was in the Tower.

I could imagine the fury at the Cockpit. Sarah would be frantic and Anne would share her grief and anguish.

William declared that Anne could no longer shelter Lady Marlborough and she must leave the Cockpit at once.

I wrote to Anne. I told her she must let Sarah go. It was not fitting that the wife of a man who was now a prisoner in the Tower should be in her service.”

Anne replied: “Your Majesty must be sensible enough of the kindness I have for Lady Marlborough to know that a command from you to part with her is the greatest mortification in the world to me, and indeed of such nature as I might well have hoped your kindness to me would have always prevented. There is no misery which would be greater than that of parting with Lady Marlborough.”