“I cannot believe it,” she kept murmuring to herself. “It cannot be true.”
All day she sat alone, refusing food which she had never been known to do before; and when it was time to retire she shook her head and told her women to go away.
Then she caught sight of Abigail and she said: “Let Hill remain. She can give me all the help I need.”
So Abigail helped her to bed and she talked of her boy while the tears slowly ran down her cheeks.
“It is what I dreaded, Hill. I dreaded it more than anything that could happen … and now it has come. What can I say, Hill? What can I do now?”
“Talk of him, Madam. Perhaps it will help you.”
So she talked and to her surprise was soothed; and she looked at the young face of her chambermaid, itself stained with tears and she said: “You’re a good creature, Hill.”
When the Princess was in her bed, Abigail turned to go but the Princess said: “Stay, Hill.”
Abigail stayed and knelt by the bed while the Princess lay and wept silently.
The Princess seemed to have forgotten the chambermaid was kneeling there; but when her eyes did fall on the small figure she said: “Thank you, Hill. You are a good creature.”
And Abigail remained until the Princess slept.
She knew that the Princess would not quickly forget that at the peak of her suffering she had found comfort in Abigail Hill.
The Princess Anne was listless. Each day she sat dreaming of her lost boy. She confided to Abigail Hill that life would never again be the same for her.
Sarah came bustling into the apartment. “Come, dear Mrs. Morley, you must rouse yourself,” she commanded. “You must remember that although you are a bereaved mother you are also the heiress to the throne.”
“I do not think you can understand how I feel, Mrs. Freeman.”
“I! Not understand. Have I not lost a child … a boy? Have you forgotten my dear Charles.”
“No, I have not forgotten and I suffered my dearest Mrs. Freeman’s loss as my own, but this is my boy … my beloved boy.”
“There will be other little Morleys ere long.”
“I wish I could be sure of that.”
“You are certainly not sterile. You have given us good proof of that.”
Sometimes there was almost a sneer in Sarah’s voice; Anne, her feelings made raw by her recent loss, was hurt by it; and oddly enough she was reminded of the gentle sympathy of the chambermaid.
She said that she was tired and would sleep a little. Sarah, who nowadays always seemed to be seeking opportunities to leave her company, said at once that that was an excellent idea.
“Send for the chambermaid, Hill,” said Anne. “She will help me to my bed.”
“And I will see you when you are refreshed,” replied Sarah. “Then I am sure, Mrs. Morley, you will see that I am right when I implore you to stop showing your sorrow. I know you grieve. I still do for my darling Charles, but we have to be brave, Mrs. Morley. We have to hide our feelings from the world.”
When Sarah had left and Anne was alone with Abigail Hill, the Princess said: “Of course we cannot all hope to be as strong as dear Lady Marlborough.”
“No, Madam.”
“Although sometimes I think my dearest friend, being so admirable herself, has little patience with those who are weaker.”
“Your Highness is not weak.” Abigail spoke more fiercely than usual. “If I may offer my humble opinion Your Highness has shown the greatest fortitude.…”
“I have tried, Hill. But sometimes I think the loss of my darling …”
Anne began to weep and Abigail tenderly proffered the handkerchief. Anne did not seem to see it, so greatly daring Abigail wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“Thank you, Hill,” said Anne. “You are very different from … your cousin.”
“I fear so, Madam.”
“Do not fear, Hill. I find your quietness to my taste.”
“My cousin is a brilliant woman and I am just Your Highness’s chambermaid.”
“Do not fret with labels, Hill. There are times when I find your presence very comforting … very comforting indeed.” Anne’s face hardened suddenly. “And there are others when I find Lady Marlborough’s most … most … unkind.”
There was a silence which horrified Anne. At last she had spoken aloud a thought which had been at the back of her mind for some time; and spoken in the hearing of Abigail Hill, Sarah’s cousin, who had been given everything she had by Sarah and must therefore be her creature.
Now there will be trouble, thought Anne.
She felt so weary that she closed her eyes and rejected Abigail’s suggestion to soothe her forehead with unguents. She felt stricken with misery. Her boy was dead and she had spoken disloyally of a woman who for years she had regarded as her dearest friend. And in the hearing of Abigail Hill who certainly would be obliged to repeat everything she heard to her cousin.
“Leave me,” said Anne weakly.
And when she was alone she began to weep silently, partly for the loss of her son and partly for the loss of an illusion.
The next time Anne saw Sarah she waited for a reference to her disloyalty. It did not come. In fact Sarah behaved as though nothing had happened.
Was Sarah waiting for a telling moment to let fly her reproaches. No! There was one thing one could be sure of with Sarah; she was as she herself had said of a frank and free nature. She was unable to curb her feelings, particularly her anger.
If Sarah did not scold her for the words she had said in Abigail’s hearing there could be only one reason: Abigail had not told her.
How strange! She could not understand this; and her interest in the softly spoken chambermaid increased.
“Hill,” she said, some days later, “you must be very grateful to Lady Marlborough.”
“Oh yes, Madam.”
“I hear that she found your family in great distress and that she has placed your sister and brothers in good places.”
“It is true, Madam.”
“Then I suppose you feel that you must pay her back in some way.”
“I have nothing with which to pay her, Madam. I can only give her my gratitude.”
“Perhaps you feel that she is in a sense your mistress?”
Abigail’s eyes were filled with frank awe and respect. “Oh, Madam,” she said, “I have only one mistress. I do not think it would be possible for me to serve two at the same time.”
Anne nodded. Her lips framed words which she had used to Abigail several times before: “You are a good creature.”
But this time she said them with a new sincerity; and afterwards she began to look for Abigail among her women and was very contented that she should be in close attendance.
Now that her two elder daughters were so advantageously married, Sarah was becoming very interested in politics. She and her husband were often in the company of the Godolphins and she was wooing her rather difficult son-in-law, Charles Spencer. The time was fast approaching, she was sure, when Anne would be Queen of England. William simply could not live much longer; his body was a mass of disease; everyone said it was a miracle that he could have lived so long. But he seemed to have found a new reason for living since Louis XIV, his greatest enemy, had begun his plan to rule the whole of Europe. This had been made a possibility by the appointment of his grandson Philip of Anjou to the throne of Spain. If Philip could rule independently this would not be a major issue, but was le Roi Soleil the man to stand back and let that happen? No, he wanted to rule Spain, through his grandson, as well as France and that meant that the balance of European power would be in favour of the French. It was something William could not tolerate; and he was already preparing, with the aid of Austria to stand with Holland against this.