Elizabeth had her power. It was enough.
It was absurd, said the Princess Anne, for her boy to be dressed as a child. One only had to look at him drilling his soldiers to realize how advanced he was.
Sarah yawned. She was a little weary of Anne’s obsession. She would tell her so, but for the fact that John had warned her; and it was true their fortunes were not very bright at the moment. As soon as that child was a little older she would have her own son brought to be a companion to him; but not yet; she did not want her young John to be drilling with that band of boys. When Gloucester had a worthy post to offer her son he should have it.
The Princess Anne went on: “Mr. Morley and I were talking of him last evening …”
I’ll swear you were! thought Sarah. What else do you talk of but food and drink.
She was getting very restive and finding Anne more boring than ever; and she was often angry at the way things were going. William was spitting blood and looked as if he would soon be in his tomb; but Mary recovered from her illnesses and in fact seemed a great deal more healthy than Anne. Life was madly frustrating at this time. But she was subdued—for her; Marlborough’s sojourn in the Tower had had a very sobering effect.
“So we have summoned Mr. Hughes to make him a suit in white camlet and the loops and buttons are to be of silver thread.”
“I am sure the little Duke will look charming thus attired.” Poor little monster, thought Sarah, complacently, thinking of her own handsome son. Then her expression clouded when she remembered little Charles lying in his coffin. There was no safety anywhere now, it seemed. Tragedy could hit the Churchills just as any other family. They were meant for distinction, she was sure; but they had their troubles.
“When Mr. Hughes comes I want to take him to my boy for I wish to discuss with him how the clothes shall be made.”
Sarah hid a yawn; and was rather pleased when Mr. Hughes came so that she could be rid of Anne.
“Mrs. Pack,” said the boy, “I do not like Mr. Hughes.”
“Why not. He’s a good tailor.”
“My stays are so tight, they hurt me.”
He looked incongruous with his enormous head and his bright darting eyes which seemed as though they should be on the body of a boy in his teens instead of that fragile little creature.
He pulled at the stays under his waistcoat. “Do stays always hurt like this, Mrs. Pack?”
“They are meant to make you straight so they are bound to restrict a little.”
“They do not make me feel very friendly toward Mr. Hughes,” said the Prince.
Mr. Hughes the tailor called at Campden House on the orders of the Duke of Gloucester. As he entered the hall he was almost knocked over by a noisy crowd of small boys—ninety of them. One stood apart shouting orders.
“This way. Bring him here. Hurry, men.”
“What the …” gasped Mr. Hughes as his legs and arms were seized by small hands and he was dragged to the floor; for small as his attackers were, they were numerous and they swarmed over him.
“Over here,” was the order. “This way. We’ll teach him to make stiff stays.”
“Help me!” cried Mr. Hughes, so bewildered that he could not imagine what was happening to him.
A voice said: “Your Highness, what is this?”
“My men are in control,” was the answer.
“It’s Mr. Hughes, the tailor. Why Mr. Hughes, what has happened to you then?”
Mr. Hughes gasped his thankfulness to hear the voice of his friend and fellow Welshman, Lewis Jenkins.
“I do not know. These … imps fell on me as I came into the hall.”
“We are taking him to the wooden horse,” said a high pitched voice. “He is to be punished for making stiff stays that hurt.”
“Mr. Hughes,” said Lewis Jenkins, “get you up then, man. Now stand away, you boys.”
“They take orders from none but me.”
“The wooden horse, Mr. Hughes, man, is the punishment they use for soldiers who disobey. Take no notice. Mr. Hughes is not one of Your Highness’s men.”
“He makes stays that hurt. They’re hurting me now.”
“Why don’t you ask him to remake them for Your Highness. That would be more sensible than this game you’re playing.”
Mr. Hughes was on his feet, but hands still pulled at his clothes. He said: “I’m sorry the stays are too tight, Your Highness. You must allow me to alter them.”
“You can alter them?” asked the Duke.
“Certainly, Your Highness. I can make them so that you won’t feel you’re wearing stays at all, and would have done so, had you asked me.”
“Men … dismiss!” cried Gloucester. “Mr. Hughes, to my apartments quick … march.”
So Gloucester went off with the tailor and in a short time the stays had been altered to fit comfortably.
Lewis Jenkins laughed at the affair with his fellow attendants. “He’ll get what he wants, that little one,” he commented, and it struck him that they were fortunate to be in the service of the Duke of Gloucester. It was time he was acknowledged the Prince of Wales, for the more honors that befell him, the more they would all benefit.
THE END OF A LIFE
“You have great influence with my lord Shrewsbury,” said Elizabeth, “and I can well understand that.”
Mrs. Lundy, a vain and pretty woman, laughed. “He’s an obstinate devil,” she said, “once he has made up his mind.”
“What man is not?” asked Elizabeth. “But sometimes—nay, often—it is possible to use a little gentle persuasion.”
“You think Shrewsbury would listen to me?”
“If he would not listen to you he would listen to no one.”
That pleased the woman; she tossed her head. No doubt she was proud of her conquest, for Shrewsbury was reckoned to be a fascinating man. He had a damaged eye which some people found repulsive; yet that seemed but to add to his attractions where others were concerned. Elizabeth herself knew the value of some slight imperfection and how it could be turned to an asset.
She must get Shrewsbury to take office. William would be so delighted if she did; and she was eager to bind him closer and closer to herself.
“A Dukedom. That is worth having,” went on Elizabeth. Surely, she implied, you would rather be the mistress of a Duke than an Earl? As the mistress of a King, Elizabeth could show that the rank of one’s lover was of the utmost importance.
“He doesn’t seem to care for titles.”
“He is well equipped in that direction,” added Elizabeth. “But I have yet to know the man who was not ready to take a little more. I’ll warrant you will make him do as you wish.”
Mrs. Lundy was not at all sure that it was her wish; but Elizabeth was subtly convincing her that it was.
Well, Mrs. Lundy was thinking, Secretary of State, a Duke … that was rather pleasant. And the King—and the Queen—would know that it was Mrs. Lundy who had persuaded that obstinate man to change his mind. They ought then to be very respectful toward Mrs. Lundy.
“I will talk to him,” she said.
“I know you will succeed,” Elizabeth assured her.
Gloucester was suffering from the ague and his mother was frantic with anxiety until she remembered that a Mr. Sentiman used to make up a prescription of brandy and saffron which he claimed would cure any sort of ague. Anne’s uncle, Charles II, had dabbled in the making of medicines and she had heard him recommend this prescription. So Anne immediately sent for Mr. Sentiman.