Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II

disrespect at any time, more especially in the presence of my subjects.”

“I will remember, and I crave your forgiveness, William, on my knees.…”

“Have done. I shall remain.”

He left her and she wept quietly wondering whether he had gone to Elizabeth Villiers or to Bentinck.

The Princess Anne was growing discontented. Looking around her it seemed to her that everyone was benefiting from the new reign except herself.

Sarah and John Churchill had their new title and the revenues that went with it. Mary was Queen of England and William was King, for as long as he should live, which meant that Anne had been set back a place.

This she would have accepted if the new King and Queen had treated her more kindly. All during the years of separation she and Mary had corresponded and deplored their separation; but now that they were together again they found that over the years they had changed. They were not the inseparable companions they had been in childhood. Mary had become the complete slave of that Dutch Monster whom nobody could like because he was so bad tempered and uncouth; Mary was simply not herself. She wanted to talk incessantly and play cards and dance —which was all very well, but at the same time she had to do exactly what Dutch William wanted her to. Mary was, it seemed to Anne, like a shadow of Caliban in spite of her easy manners and love of pleasure. Everything he said was right in her opinion, whereas everything Anne said and did was wrong.

Anne loved cards more than anything; she loved to gossip too, but she found she had little to say to Mary, who did not seem to like Sarah.

Anne was pregnant and she was becoming uneasy because she had had so many disappointments. This time she desired to have a son even more fervently than usual so that she could score over her sister who quite clearly could not get one.

George was pleasant but dull; he provided no excitement. To everything one said, however exciting a piece of gossip, he would murmur: “Est-il possible?” and then nod drowsily. He was getting fatter and slept a great deal of the time, and although Anne was sure he was the best husband she could have, she did not find his company stimulating.

That left Sarah. What would she do without Sarah—dear, violent, amusing Sarah, who could always make her feel alive on her most sluggish days!

Sarah was always fomenting trouble; and now that she had her Marlborough title, she was showing quite clearly her dislike of the Queen.

She came into Anne’s apartments to find her mistress drowsing, but as soon as Anne saw her she felt alert. Something had happened to make Sarah indignant.

“My dear Mrs. Morley,” she cried. “What now do you think? I have had this straight from Dillon, who heard it from Keppel.”

Dillon was a page in the Marlborough household and Keppel one in attendance on the King.

“Pray sit down, dear Mrs. Freeman, and tell me what is agitating you.”

“As you can guess it concerns my dear Mrs. Morley, for it is when I see injustice done to her that I lose my temper.”

“Oh, dear,” sighed Anne. “What injustice?”

“Caliban has summoned Godolphin. He is a mean fellow, this King of ours. He cannot bear that money should be spent on anything but building and gardens and wars to set him more firmly on the throne. He asked Godolphin how it was possible for you to spend thirty thousand pounds a year.”

“How possible!” screamed Anne.

“Oh, yes, to mean William that seems a great deal of money.”

Anne’s face puckered. “But how can I manage on it?”

How could she indeed, Sarah wondered, when she gave such magnificent gifts to her friends and lost so much at cards. Wasting it on cards was folly, but it was well for Anne to have some outlet for spending money or there might be an inquiry as to where it all went. Gifts to the Churchills took care of quite a large portion of it; but the money was not wasted, Sarah assured herself; the Churchills were not people to fritter away their money. John was the most cautious of men—some might call him mean—and Sarah was no spendthrift. They wished to grow richer each year and Heaven knew they had begun poor enough.

No, Anne’s income must certainly not be cut for that would mean less gifts for the Churchills.

“One thing I will not endure,” said Sarah, “and that is to see my dear Mrs. Morley treated in this way. Where would they be if it were not for you? Who was it who kept them supplied with information? Who was it who made the way easy for them?”

“You, dear Mrs. Freeman.”

“Oh, no, no! It was my dear good kind Mrs. Morley. And how do they repay her? Have they forgotten that she stood aside to give him the sovereignty he was greedily demanding? Yes, they have forgotten. Depend upon it, Mrs. Morley, unless you stand firm, William will cut your income and that is something which I shall not allow you to accept.”

“Indeed not. My father was so good to me, was he not? Do you remember how when I was in debt he never failed to help me.”

“I remember.”

Anne looked tearfully at her friend. Life had really been more comfortable when her father had been on the throne. Mary and William were not nearly so affectionate. When Anne thought of the letter her father had sent to Mary which she had received on Coronation day and in which he had talked of curses, she wanted to weep, not so much with remorse but with terror, for she felt herself to be included in those curses. A father’s curse was a frightening thing to have hanging over one—particularly when one was expecting a child.