It was on such occasions that Barbara made sure that she was aware of what went on between Anne and Sarah. She owed that to Elizabeth.
“Oh, those tiresome women!” cried Sarah in her resonant voice. “I thought the game would never end.”
“It was a good game, and you, my dear Mrs. Freeman, played very badly.”
“I know. My mind was on more important matters.”
“Oh?” said Anne, her eyes shining. “Do explain.”
“There is news from your father. He is delighted that you are with those who are ready to show him friendship.”
“My poor father. Do you know, Mrs. Freeman, I have been haunted ever since the morning of the Coronation. That letter! To be cursed by one’s father. And all the babies I have lost. And my little Gloucester … sometimes my heart almost fails me when I look at him. He is such a clever little boy, so alert, so brilliant … oh, but dear Mrs. Freeman, so frail.”
“I know, I know. If you had your father’s forgiveness everything would be better, for it is not a good thing that there should be enmity between a father and daughter.”
“What can I do, Mrs. Freeman?”
“Well, I believe that if you were to write a letter to him and tell him how sorry you are, he would be ready and willing to forget the past and be friends again.”
“How I wish that could be.”
“We will write that letter and see what happens. It can do no harm. Now … pen and paper and to work.”
Sarah bustled about the apartment, laid out writing materials, and helped Anne to the table.
“Now … what do you think? Something like this. ‘I have been very desirous of some safe opportunity to make you a sincere and humble offer of my duty and submission to you; and to beg you will be assured that I am both truly concerned for the misfortune of your condition and sensible, as I ought to be, of my own unhappiness …’ ”
“That is wonderful.”
“Well write that down.”
Anne obeyed.
Sarah went on: “ ‘As to what you may think I have contributed to it, if wishes could recall what is past, I had long since redeemed my fault …’ ”
Sarah went on dictating; Anne went on writing; and in the anteroom Barbara Fitzharding’s ear was pressed against the keyhole that she might not miss a word.
She smiled down at him and he regarded her with affection—the face which so many failed to appreciate, that fascinating cast in the eyes which had endeared her to him in the first place, and the clear alert mind which she devoted to his interests. He was blessed in his mistress as he was with his male friends. He was a man who was loved by few, but those few gave him wholehearted devotion.
Wife, mistress, and friend. He could rely on them all—though perhaps not his wife because, for all that she was the meekest of the three, her exalted position and the power she could wield if she wished meant that he could never be completely sure of her.
“My sister reports disturbing news from the Cockpit,” she said. “Anne is writing to her father.”
William raised himself on his elbow and stared at her.
“It is so. No suggestions … yet. A little contrition; the dutiful daughter is haunted by the wrong she has done her father and asks his forgiveness.”
William was silent; then he said. “The Marlborough woman.”
Elizabeth nodded. “She dictates all.”
“Marlborough will be aware of it.”
“I am sure of it,” said Elizabeth. “That woman continually abuses you, but I do not think she would take this step without Marlborough’s being aware of it.”
“He’s a good soldier but his ambitions run ahead of his achievement,” said William. “I wonder how far this has gone.”
“I think that James is too tired for action and the French have refused him the army which he needs to invade. The Marlboroughs are intent on mischief. They don’t want James back.”
“No,” said William, “they want Anne on the throne so that the Churchills can rule the country. Anne, being the most foolish of women, does not see this.”
“Barbara declares that it is quite sickening to listen to them. Dear Mrs. Freeman and poor silly Mrs. Morley! Anne looks upon it all as a girlish game, but Sarah is no girl. She’s the most ambitious woman at Court—and since she is married to the most ambitious man, they are a pair to be watched.”
“He could be taken up for treason.”
“He could be,” admitted Elizabeth, “but I am sure you would consider that unwise at this stage.”
“At this stage,” agreed William. “I think, though, that we could well dispense with their services. I can bring a
