He was not expected to live; and it was almost as though a breath of relief went through St James’s.
‘This will make the decision which Anne was not able to make for herself,’ said the Queen.
‘It is an act of God,’ replied the King. ‘I did not want to see our daughter married to that man. Why, when I think of our marriage, my dear ... The excitement! The happiness! Do you remember?’
‘I remember well.’
The King’s eyes were glazed with sentiment. ‘And when I came to you as Monsieur de Busch, you remember that? And you were a little taken with Monsieur de Busch were you not?’
‘Greatly taken.’
‘And delighted when he turned out to be George Augustus in disguise?’
She laughed. ‘Yes, we were happy and ours was a good marriage. That is why we suffer so much to think of Anne’s.’
‘Oh, if only we could find a nice Protestant worthy Prince for our daughter! ‘
‘Alas, there was only Orange.’
‘And he will soon have the life squeezed out of him.’ The King laughed at his little joke and the Queen laughed with him.
‘But I am afraid,’ said the Queen, ‘that Anne will be very distressed to lose him, since we can find no one else to take his place.’
They were wrong. Anne showed no signs of distress. She continued to play the harpsichord and to sing with her friends from the opera as though nothing had happened.
The Prince of Orange was in a dangerous state for a week and then began to recover, although slowly; and it was still believed that he might not live.
The King shrugged his shoulders and said that he would not visit the Prince as if he did not recover he could not marry his daughter and therefore would be nothing to him. He didn’t like the man, anyway. He was scarcely a man, being so ugly and deformed. He must look after himself and think himself lucky that he was allowed to stay at Somerset House for his illness.
The Queen suggested that members of the family should perhaps visit the invalid to cheer him up in his convalescence.
‘No,’ thundered the King. ‘I forbid it.’
So through the long winter the Prince of Orange tried to throw off the effects of his illness, ignored by the royal family. His retinue of servants grumbled incessantly about this treatment and would have liked to have left for Holland, but the Prince was diplomatic. He knew that marriage with the daughter of the King of England was the best possible match he could make and for this he was ready to sink his dignity.
He grew better and went to Kensington and later to Bath to complete his recovery. He was determined that the marriage should take place and he knew that while he remained in England it had a good chance of doing so.
With the coming of March he returned to London and sent a messenger to the King with the news that he was now well enough to marry, and expressed his wish that the long delayed ceremony should now take place.
Anne, who when he had been ill had behaved as though he did not exist, now showed some interest in her marriage. Once more the King asked her if she was sure that she wanted to go on with it.
‘You cannot find me another husband,’ was her answer, ‘so I have no choice but to take this one.’
‘That or allow everything to remain as it was,’ the Queen reminded her.
‘I choose marriage,’ said Anne coldly.
The marriage was fixed for the 14th of March and was to be performed in the little French chapel adjoining St James’s. During the days preceding the 14th there was a great deal of activity not only in the Palace but throughout the Court. Velvets, gold and silver tissue was used in the chapel drapings. The lustres and sconces were gilded; and never had the chapel looked so gay. The procession would have to pass from the Palace to the chapel so a covered gallery was set up and covered with orange-coloured cloth.
The Queen, relying absolutely on the good taste of Lord Hervey, commanded him to be in charge of operations and he arranged the decorations not only for the chapel but for the gallery which he determined should look magnificent when it was illuminated; and which he calculated would hold four thousand people.
An air of excitement was everywhere. The only disgruntled comment was that of the old Duchess of Marlborough who could see the gallery from the windows of Marlborough House and grumbled incessantly about it.
‘I’m longing for the day when neighbour George takes his orange chest away,’ she cried. ‘It spoils my view.’
But nobody cared about the old Duchess’s complaints; and that was her greatest complaint of alclass="underline" Nobody cared.
And all those who had tickets for a place in the gallery to see the procession pass laughed at her and said she was an old fool who didn’t know that her day was over.
But Sarah could laugh as she stood at the windows of Marlborough House and looked out at the gaping crowds. But for a stroke of ill luck she might have shown them that she was still to be reckoned with. What if she had succeeded in marrying Lady Di to the Prince of Wales!
They made a big mistake if they thought they could jeer at Sarah Churchill while there was breath in her body.
It was seven o’clock at night when the ceremony began. Orange, with his attendants, was waiting in the Great Council Chamber for the moment when he must sally forth. The Prince was magnificently attired in gold and silver brocade and his peruke had been very cleverly contrived so that the curls cascaded over his back and hid the worst of his deformity. His attendants glittered beside him and, apart from his low stature, for he appeared to be bent double, he looked less grotesque than on any other occasion.
In the great drawing room Anne with her ladies was also waiting for the signal. She looked almost beautiful; there was about her an air of rapt resignation; her gown was of silver tissue and her necklace was made up of twenty-two huge diamonds; she glittered splendidly; and so did the ten girls who were her bridesmaids and whose duty it was to carry the six-yard-long train of silver tissue.
In the King’s lesser drawing room George and Caroline waited with their children.
George gave way to one or two mild displays of bad temper. He was thinking that he didn’t like the marriage; it was going to cost a great deal; and what had they got for it? Orange! A minor Prince who had nothing much to offer their daughter, and was there simply because he was the only Protestant Prince available.
‘Stand up straight!’ he shouted to the Duke of Cumberland. ‘And don’t look so sullen. I suppose you’re wishing it was your wedding!’
‘That would hardly be possible, Papa, at my age.’
‘You don’t like anyone to have anything but yourself. And you could look a little more pleasant, Emily.’ Emily was a name the family sometimes used for Amelia.
‘It is not really such a pleasant occasion, is it, Papa?’
Oh dear, thought the Queen, her family were becoming difficult. Very soon Frederick would not be the only one who was quarrelling with his father.
‘It was a wonderful necklace he gave her,’ said William. ‘Twenty-two diamonds. I should like to know the cost of them.’
‘One would not have thought a poor Prince could give his bride such a gift,’ put in Amelia.
‘This is not the time to be talking about diamonds,’ the King reproved them. ‘You ought to be thinking of your sister.’
‘I am so sorry for her,’ put in young Caroline.
‘Be silent,’ commanded the King, ‘or you’ll upset your mother.’
He smiled at his wife. This was one of the occasions when he felt sentimental towards her.
He took her hand gently, for it was time to leave for the chapel.