Harley had decided to use the hidden weapon against his foes. The Marlboroughs thought they were going to rule the country because of Sarah’s ascendancy over the Queen, but Harley had decided otherwise: he was going to stand supreme. And the fact that he had allowed Henry St. John to share this little confidence showed clearly that if St. John cared to attach himself to Harley he could go along with him; St. John cared. He cared very deeply.

So he was excited as he sat in the coffee house listening to talk between one of the country’s leading statesmen and the poor scribbler.

Parting was almost unendurable for John and Sarah. It was at such times that briefly they forgot ambition. Sarah was unable to control her tears—tears of sorrow were unusual with her, though she occasionally shed tears of rage. To let him go, her beloved John, into danger! So many hazards he would face; and he had so many enemies! What if she were never to see him again? Nothing then would be worthwhile. As for John, he had wanted to go to war for only at war could he prove his genius. He was a soldier first and foremost; he believed that this war was necessary to England. And yet what would he not have given at that moment of parting to leave everything and go back with Sarah to St. Albans.

He was worried about young John who was at cross purposes with his mother. Henrietta, now that she had escaped from the family circle by marriage, was as her mother said “saucy.” The only member of the family with whom Sarah really lived on amicable terms was Anne—and this was solely because Anne had a sweet disposition and it was impossible to quarrel with her.

He wanted to be in the circle of his family; he wished momentarily that he and Sarah could have abandoned ambition, the quest for wealth and fame … everything … to go and spend their days quietly at St. Albans … together … all through the days and nights.

Oddly enough he knew as they faced each other that Sarah felt the same—his wild tempestuous Sarah who could be tender only to him, and then rarely so. Yet, he told himself, for him her frequent anger made her occasional sweetness all the more precious.

She clung to him now. “Oh, John,” she whispered, “there’ll be dangers over there.”

“And here there’ll be dangers too. You will have to be careful of your behaviour, my love, for although I go to war with a ruthless enemy you stay behind in a country of tigers and wolves.”

Sarah’s eyes glinted momentarily. “I’d like to see them attack me. Just let them try.”

“They’ll try, Sarah. They’ll never cease to try.”

“I shall be ready for them. Now that I have got young Abigail Hill to take over some of the more unpleasant duties I have more time for important affairs. I’m thankful for that girl, John. She does her task well. And she is respectful and grateful.”

“As she should be.”

“As she should be. She dare not be otherwise. But it is rarely that I have to remind her what I have done for her. She should serve me well. But I’ll reward her.”

He touched her cheek lightly with his finger. “It is always well to reward a good servant.”

She took his hand and kissed it. “You will think of me when you are away?”

“Constantly.”

“Let not thoughts of me turn you from those of war. I want this finished quickly. I want you back in England.”

“You can be sure that I shall lose no time in hurrying to you.”

“Oh, my love, these are great days.”

“Yes,” he replied, “this will be warfare with a difference. I want to beat the French in the field and then march on to Paris to take their capital. That is the only way to beat the French.”

“And you’ll have opposition to those plans, I’ll warrant.”

“There is always opposition. To turn to Spain would be suicidal … and if we succeeded there no decision would have been reached.”

“Well, John Churchill, I do not think you are the man to let others fight your wars for you.”

“As usual my love is right.”

When the hour for parting had come and he must set sail, leaving her behind, Sarah declared her intention of seeing him go aboard, for she was determined to be with him until the very last moment.

“How I wish that I were coming with you!” she cried vehemently.

“Ah, my love, then I should indeed be happy. But there are affairs at home which need your attention.”

She nodded. “Have no fear. Sidney Godolphin will do as I wish and Harley seems amenable. I believe he is delighted that you selected him to join you. He as much as told me so.”

“He’s a clever fellow whom we can’t afford to have as an enemy.”

“I shall be watching them. I wish I didn’t have to listen to Morley’s gossip. Sometimes I could scream at the old fool to be silent.”

“You must never do that, Sarah.”

“I believe that woman would take anything … just anything from me.”

“I beg you do not put it to the test.”

“Oh, come, Marl, you can trust me.”

“With all my heart, but you can be a little impetuous, my love.”

“She dotes on me. Her stupid old face looks almost human when she sees me.”

“She is not a fool, Sarah. She is a woman who successfully hides her true feelings as well as any. I’ve heard that said and I know it to be true.”

“I know what her true feelings are for her beloved Mrs. Freeman, I do assure you.”

“God bless you, Sarah. Take care of yourself and the family.”

One last embrace. Then she must let him go. He stood on deck watching her; and she stood waving to him, praying earnestly, and what was so unusual, humbly. “Let him come safely back to me.”

Marlborough held up his glass that he might see her for as long as possible; and when he could no longer see her he could only endure the parting by writing to her without delay.

“I watched with my perspective glass for a long time in hopes that I might have another sight of you. At this moment I would give my life to come back to you.”

“Hill,” said the Queen, “pray bathe my feet. They are most painful today.”

Abigail inclined her head and in a few minutes was kneeling at the Queen’s feet with the silver bowl half full of water that was neither too hot nor too cold.

Anne smiled placidly and lay back, her eyes closed.

“That feels good,” she said. “Danvers is either too rough or afraid to touch me. You have magic in your hands, Hill.”

“Your Majesty is so gracious to me.”

“You’re a good creature.”

“And the happiest in the world to give pleasure to Your Majesty.”

“You’re quiet and there are times when I feel the need for quietness.”

Abigail patted the feet dry, anointed them, powdered them and put them into the large and comfortable slippers.

“Your Majesty feels better now?”

“Greatly refreshed Hill. Did I hear Danvers scolding you this afternoon, my dear?”

“She said I was in too constant attendance on Your Majesty.”

“What nonsense!”

Abigail folded her arms and struck a pose that was so like one of Mrs. Danvers’ that the Queen opened her eyes wide and laughed. “I do declare, Hill, you look exactly like her.”

“ ‘Hill,’ ” mimicked Abigail, “ ‘you push yourself too much. Lady Marlborough has put you here to do those tasks which are not to her liking, but I have not asked you to take my place.’ ”

“It’s Danvers to the life!” cried Anne.

Abigail looked up meekly at an imaginary Danvers and murmured her excuses. Then greatly daring she pretended that Sarah had arrived and mimicked a scene between her and Danvers.

She was almost afraid to look at the Queen. Had she gone too far? What would Anne’s reactions be to a little poking of fun at Sarah.

“Clever little Hill!” murmured the Queen, smiling. It was a further step forward in their relationship.

“Your Majesty,” said Abigail, “Mr. Masham left a message that the Prince was hoping to visit you this day.”

“Then I am pleased, Hill. I trust this means that his breathing is a little better.”

“Mr. Masham tells me that his breathing was much easier this morning and that he enjoyed his dinner.”

“He is a good man, young Masham. I believe he is fond of the Prince.”

“I am sure of it, Madam.”

“He confides in you, does he?”

“A little, Madam.”

“Clever little thing. Now help make me ready to receive the Prince and then Hill you shall play some of your pieces on the harpsichord. Why, Hill, I am always discovering fresh talents in you. I am very fond of the harpsichord and I was telling the Prince what a pleasant touch you have.”

Abigail was delighted with her progress in the bedchamber. If only Sarah would stay away for months. Then she would make a real advance.

George, Prince of Denmark, came to his wife’s apartments accompanied by his page, Samuel Masham. There were signs in the Prince’s face of past good looks, but he had become so fat through an excessive fondness for good food and wine that he was now almost a ridiculous figure as he trundled painfully along, leaning on a jewelled-topped stick. He wheezed painfully, for he suffered greatly from asthma, but his expression was one of kindliness and a placidity which matched that of his wife.

“My angel,” he said, his Danish accent obvious, for he had never tried to eradicate it. He was far too lazy. “I trust I find you better today.”

“Yes, my dearest. My good Hill has just made me comfortable. And you are wheezing less, I fancy. Come sit down here beside me so that I may see you clearly.”

George sat down heavily in the chair which Abigail had set close to the Queen’s couch. He took the Queen’s hand, kissed it and retained it, stroking the beautifully white plump fingers admiringly. Even as he did so he nodded drowsily. He had drunk heavily and always found it hard to keep his eyes open in the afternoon—or at any time for that matter.

“Dear George!” murmured Anne.

He nodded happily. Then they were silent.

He was such a good husband, Anne was thinking, but there was never anything to say to him, except: “My angel!” Or: “My dearest George.” Of course when their boy was alive they had had him to talk of and that had been the most engrossing subject in the world; but if they talked of their darling now it could only end in sadness. In actual fact it was so much more enlivening and amusing to talk to—or rather listen to—dearest Mrs. Freeman; it was much more pleasant to talk to that quiet little Hill who was turning out to be so clever.

Anne yawned.

In the ante room Abigail was smiling at Samuel Masham.

“If you will forgive me the liberty,” he was saying, “I should like to say how well you are looking.”

“I am well. And you?”

He nodded and his eyes were brighter than usual. “It is pleasant without Madam Virago at Court.”

Abigail opened her pale green eyes very wide and looked astonished.

“I am sure you suffer at her hands more than most,” went on Samuel. “The Court seems quiet and peaceful. She will soon be back though. As soon as the Earl sails she will return.”

Abigail lowered her eyes. She agreed with Samuel but she was not certain whether it was wise to speak of Lady Marlborough disparagingly here in the royal apartments. And she was determined to be discreet. It was true that Sarah Churchill was the most indiscreet woman in the country and she had not appeared to suffer for it, but Abigail was well aware that she could never follow in Sarah’s footsteps; she would have to go an entirely different way.

“I am sure,” she said discreetly, “that Lady Marlborough will lose no time in returning to her duties.”

Samuel too was discreet; and he would take his cue from Abigail, so he changed the subject. “I heard Her Majesty speak of you to the Prince the other day. She said that she was beginning to wonder what she would do without you.”

Abigail was excited. If Anne spoke of her when she was not present then she must have made a deep impression on the royal mind.

Samuel brought his head close to hers. “Of course,” he said, “more and more will depend on the good graces of The Lady. They are saying that the Triumvirate with the Queen behind it, will be all powerful. The Queen behind it! It is The Lady who is behind it. Marlborough, her husband! Godolphin, her daughter’s father-in-law! Harley their man! And the Queen completely in the hands of The Lady. Those of us who fail to please Madam will not long retain our posts.”

“We shall have to be watchful to please,” murmured Abigail.

“Hill!” called the Queen.