“We should get into our places,” said Samuel. “The display is about to begin.”
He did not touch Abigail but was close beside her. She sensed his interest and it seemed strange to her that a young man should be more interested in her than in Alice. It was something which had never happened before.
The King had arrived and was seated in a grandstand which had been erected for the purpose. No trouble, of course, was too much for the young Duke of Gloucester.
Abigail could not take her eyes from the King, William of Orange, that man of destiny, about whose head, so it was said, on the day of his birth had been seen the three crowns of light, meant to be the crowns of England, Scotland and Ireland which he was destined to inherit. He did not look like a hero. He stooped, and a curvature of the spine was obvious; he was small and thin, his legs like a bird’s, his nose large and hooked, his eyes small, his mouth unsmiling, his face pallid; and his great wig seemed top-heavy on such a little figure. It was small wonder that the people greeted him in a silence that was almost sullen. He was not the man to inspire cheers, for all his cleverness.
“I heard,” whispered Alice, “that he spits blood frequently. He looks like a corpse. He can’t be long for this world.”
“He dismissed Dr. Radcliffe for saying he wouldn’t have his two legs for his three kingdoms,” added John.
“It would seem to me,” Alice went on, “that we shall not long have a King William to rule us.”
Not long a King William, thought Abigail. Well, then there would be a Queen Anne. How strange to think of that mild fat woman ruling a great country. She would not rule in fact; it would be Sarah Churchill who ruled her—Abigail’s own cousin. She felt almost lightheaded to be so close to such important people.
“Here comes the young Duke with his army,” said Samuel quietly.
And there they were—the most unusual army which had ever marched into the park. Ninety boys of varying sizes, shouldering wooden muskets, swords at their sides, all in brilliant uniform.
There were cheers and laughter from the lookers-on as the Duke of Gloucester shouted orders to his company.
“Halt! Present arms!”
There he stood—as odd a figure as the King—in his sparkling uniform, his small frail body and enormous head, made more obvious by his white curled periwig. Beneath the wig his face was animated, his eyes alert, for although he suffered from water on the brain he was clever; and his sayings were quoted not only in the Princess’s Court but in the King’s.
His preoccupation with soldiers had begun in the days when he was driven through the park in the little carriage especially made for him; and it had never left him; and because he was indulged not only by his parents but by the King himself, he had been allowed to recruit his little army and to supply it with uniform and imitation weapons of war.
A small cannon was now being set off in honour of the King; and there was William, lending himself to the occasion with a tolerance he rarely displayed, walking down the ranks with little Gloucester beside him, inspecting the troops.
“I wouldn’t have missed this for the King’s crown,” said Alice.
Abigail did not answer; she was thinking of that frail King and the frail boy and marvelling at the strangeness of events.
How strange it would be if she became the servant of the Queen of England!
The display was over; the Duke of Gloucester had dispersed his army and was being conducted by the King into Kensington Palace. They were talking gravely as they went and the watchers even raised a small cheer for the King among the louder ones for young Gloucester.
Gloucester gravely acknowledged their acclaim, which was more than the King did; and all eyes were on the little figure in the dazzling uniform with the blue garter ribbon across his tunic. It was obvious that they would be very willing to accept him as Prince of Wales when the time came; and that would be on the death of William.
The crowd was breaking up and Abigail found that Samuel Masham was at her side. Alice and John had joined some of their friends from the royal household and were chatting and laughing together.
“You look grave,” said Samuel.
“I was thinking how ill the King looks.”
“He has been dying for many years,” Samuel told her.
“I can’t believe he will for many more.”
“There is a mighty spirit behind those sick looks.”
“Yes, but surely even that cannot keep him alive much longer.”
“You are satisfied with your post?” he asked.
“I am very fortunate to have it. Did you know that my cousin is Lady Marlborough?”
He nodded and smiled.
“Well, she decided to place us all … and she did.”
“She would always do everything she set out to.”
“It was very necessary to place us. I discovered this a few days ago. Someone had heard that her relations were in want, and she did not care that people should know that, hence we all have been provided for. One brother in the Custom House—another in the Prince’s household, Alice in that of the Duke of Gloucester and myself now with the Princess.”
“You have the most interesting post of them all.”
“I believe you are right.”
“We shall surely meet now and then; for the Prince and his wife live very amicably together and I am often taking messages to and from their apartments.”
“I hope we shall,” said Abigail; and she was surprised that she meant it.
Samuel Masham was not handsome, not gallant; but he was rather like she was herself.… Quiet, unassuming, eager to please, grateful for his place, determined to hold it through his own modesty rather than effrontery, and a little bewildered that such an important post could have fallen into his humble hands.
He was interested in her and asked her questions about herself; she told him frankly of her father’s bankruptcy and the desperate state of the family until Cousin Sarah came to rescue them.
“It was too late for my parents,” she said; her voice was quiet and he looked for a trace of bitterness and found none. He decided then that Abigail Hill was an extraordinary woman. One would never be entirely sure what she was thinking and she would be completely discreet.
She told him of those months at St. Albans, and although she did not say how humiliating they had been, he understood. Her lips were firmly set and he believed she would make a stand against going back to them.
She did not ask him questions but he told her something of his childhood.
“When you are the youngest of eight sons you cannot hope for very bright prospects,” he told her. “I think I was very lucky to get a post at Court at all.”
“How was it arranged?”
“My father is distantly related to the Princess Anne, because Margaret the Countess Salisbury is our kinswoman. That is why I was given the opportunity. It was pleasant to get away from home.”
“You were unhappy there?”
“Scarcely that. My mother died when I was very young and my father married again. Lady Damaris Masham is very clever. She writes on theology. We are all very proud of her, but it was difficult to live up to her. Then when she had a child of her own, naturally she devoted most of her attention to him.”
“I see,” said Abigail. “So here we are … both arrived at the same place but through very different routes.”
They had been walking sedately through the Park towards the Palace where Abigail must join the Princess’s household and Samuel that of Prince George.
But before they took leave of each other they had promised they would meet again.
Abigail found herself alone with the Princess Anne and it was rarely that this happened. She was setting the dish of sweetmeats by her couch when she noticed that the silk coverlet had slipped a little and she adjusted it.