John Evelyn, who had been almost as desolate as Sidney when Margaret died, had found his solace in Margaret’s son; and Sidney was glad of this, for he had a great respect for the writer. It was Evelyn who took charge of the boy’s education, who had advised his father to send him to Eton and afterwards to Cambridge. Francis was, at the time when Sarah Churchill had cast calculating eyes on him, eighteen years old.

Although the Churchill girls despised their cousin Abigail, she was far more observant than they were. When the Godolphins visited St. Albans it did not take her long to guess for what reason Sarah had invited them.

She watched Henrietta and Anne riding with Francis and one of the grooms: and she guessed that Francis was being offered a choice of the two girls, although Henrietta was the one her parents hoped he would select.

Why? wondered Abigail. The answer was simple. Because they wanted a marriage to take place as soon as possible, and Henrietta was older than Anne.

Abigail believed that their wish would be granted, for Henrietta, bold and dashing, was determined not to be put aside for her sister. She began to understand why Francis had been brought to St. Albans, and summed him up as a docile young man who could be trained to become the kind of husband whom she could dominate. To dominate was a need with her, as it was with her mother. She wanted her freedom. Marriage could give her that—and what better than marriage with a malleable man!

Anne, who had no desire for marriage with Francis Godolphin, was well content to remain in the background, leaving the field clear for Henrietta.

There had been no lavish hospitality for the Godolphins. The Earl of Marlborough had no intention of throwing away good money for that. Sidney Godolphin was a friend of his—at least as near a friend as they could have in their ambitious lives. They could go along together, be of use to each other; they shared their dreams of power; so if Godolphin could be persuaded to the marriage it would not be because of rich food being served from gold plate, but because he saw in it a useful alliance between two ambitious families.

But after the visit the Churchills were still uncertain.

The Earl and Countess walked in the gardens discussing it. Lady Marlborough’s strident voice floated over to Abigail Hill who had been sent to weed the flower border in the enclosed garden.

“What do you think, Marl?”

The Earl’s voice did not reach Abigail.

Sarah’s went on, “Well, if Sidney Godolphin thinks he’s too good for the Marlboroughs …” A low reproving murmur. “What do we care for him? And I’ll tell you this: I think he was considering very seriously. He knows what will happen when Caliban dies. And it must be soon. It must. It must. I had it from one of the pages that he’s spitting blood … badly. How does he go on? He must have a pact with the devil. That wouldn’t surprise me.” A pause. “Good gracious, Marl! Who would hear me out here? And what I say about him, I mean. What? Henrietta seemed taken with the boy? She had better be, Marl. She had better be.” Then: “I know. We married for love. But that boy’s not you. And Henrietta’s not me. We were different. You must see that.” The sounds of laughter. “I tell you this, John Churchill, I’ll have Henrietta married to Francis Godolphin if I have to whip her to the altar.”

Abigail went on weeding. She was thinking of the future of Henrietta, married to Francis Godolphin. A place of honour at Court. Lady Marlborough would make sure of that—and the children they would have would belong to the Churchills and the Godolphins.

Abigail stood up to press her hands to her aching back. How exciting to play a part in moulding affairs of state. What fun to be at the Court, to make decisions!

How she would enjoy that!

She laughed at herself. She was imagining herself a Godolphin or a Churchill. As if such opportunities would ever come her way!

There were more visits from the Godolphins, and Francis and Henrietta seemed as though they would fall in with their parents’ wishes for they clearly enjoyed each other’s company.

Henrietta’s seventeenth birthday came and although the Earl of Marlborough wished his daughter to wait a little, his wife was impatient and Abigail was sure that soon she would have her way.

Then an event occurred which was clearly the first step towards the change in the Marlboroughs’ fortunes.

The King had evidently decided that much as he distrusted Marlborough it was better to have him on his side than against him, and while he was skulking in semi-banishment William could not be sure what mischief he would stir up. He knew of the rapprochement between the Marlborough and Godolphin families; he would therefore feel happier with Marlborough at Court in some post which he valued.

The Duke of Gloucester was now nine years old and it was necessary to establish him in a household of his own. Anne would readily agree to Marlborough’s being appointed her son’s Governor, so this seemed the obvious solution.

William sent for Marlborough and when the Earl had kissed his hand he said: “The Princess Anne would welcome your appointment to the household of the Duke of Gloucester and I myself believe that none could do the job better.”

William was indeed in a gracious mood for he went on: “Teach him to be what you are and my nephew will never want accomplishments.”

Perhaps there was an ambiguity in the remark; but John Churchill was not going to question it. He assured the King that he would accept the post with pleasure and would perform it to the best of his abilities.

When John told Sarah of the good news, she was delighted.

“This is the end of our misfortunes,” she declared. “Even the Dutchman sees that we cannot be ignored for ever.”

And it seemed that she was right, for following on John’s appointment to the governorship William sent for him once more and told him that he should be restored to his old rank in the Army; nor was that all; he was to rejoin the Privy Council.

Sarah was delighted. “Now,” she said, “with you back at Court and Henrietta soon to marry Francis Godolphin we really can begin to get to work.”

The Princess Anne reclining on her couch, to rest her swollen legs, listened with pleasure to Sarah’s account of Marlborough’s restored glory.

“Nothing could delight me more, dear Mrs. Freeman,” she said. “Pray pass the dish.”

Sarah held the sweetmeats before her royal mistress.

“I do declare that these are not so sweet as those we had yesterday. Do taste, Mrs. Freeman, and tell me if I am wrong.”

Sarah nibbled impatiently. “They taste the same to me, Mrs. Morley. I was thinking of the Duke of Gloucester.”

Anne’s attention was immediately turned from the sweetmeats for her son was the delight of her heart and she would rather talk of him than of anything else on earth, even food.

“What of my boy, dear Mrs. Freeman?”

“He is now growing up. Nine years old. But to tell the truth, Mrs. Morley, I should think him much older.”

“I do believe there is not a brighter boy in the kingdom. Such intelligence and with it the kindest heart. Do you know, dear Mrs. Freeman, yesterday at my toilet he used an oath which I did not much like and I asked him sharply where he had learned it. It was from one of his attendants I am certain. That tutor of his—Pratt … or perhaps Lewis Jenkins. He knew that I was angry with whoever had taught him such a word and he thought a while … but only a little while, for, Mrs. Freeman, he is so quick. Then he said: ‘I invented it myself.’ You see, because he thought to save someone from trouble. Was there ever such a boy?”

Sarah said: “He spends too much time with that tutor and Lewis Jenkins. He should be with boys nearer his own age, nearer his own rank.”

“I have often thought of that, Mrs. Freeman; but he loves his soldiers and I am not sure where he has recruited them from. If any boy wants to join his army and is what he calls a good soldier then he accepts him. You cannot tell my boy what he ought to do.” Anne smiled fondly. “He always has his answer and such a one to confound you.”

To confound you, thought Sarah, and your stupid old husband, for both of you are a pair of doting fools where that boy is concerned; but if he were my boy I should have something to say!

“He reminds me so much of my young John,” said Sarah.

Anne smiled, ready for a cosy chat about their boys.

“My John would like to be a soldier. He talks constantly of the Army.”

“Then they are a pair!”

“I often think they ought to be together.”

“My dear Mrs. Freeman, what could be more delightful?”

“And as His Highness now has a household of his own, I was wondering whether my boy might have a place in it. Master of Horse or some such post.”

“But it is an excellent idea. Of course we must arrange it. There is nothing I should like better.”

“My John is a little older than the Duke. He is twelve now.”

“But my dear Mrs. Freeman my boy is old beyond his years. You would believe he was twelve to hear him talk.”

Sarah was triumphant. Her dear Marl back at Court not only Governor to Gloucester but back in the Army and in the Privy Council, and her son with his first Court post—Master of Horse in the newly formed household of the Duke of Gloucester.

Henrietta was to marry Francis Godolphin at the beginning of the next year. Sarah was delighted; everything was working out as she had planned. Now she needed a husband for Anne and she must select with the greatest care; for she had determined on a grand triumvirate which could stand astride the country—a powerful triangle with Marlborough at the apex. Godolphin was an excellent beginning; now she must consider the next move very carefully.

The Earl was as pleased as she was, and his joy was increased because Henrietta was happy. There was one part of the affair which caused him a little disquiet and that was the fact that weddings were expensive, and although he agreed with Sarah that it was an excellent thing to marry into the Godolphin family, Sidney Godolphin, being an habitual gambler would not be able to take his full share in the expenses of the wedding. Spending money had always been painful to John Churchill; as a child his parents had been constantly struggling against poverty and they had been dependent on their wealthy relations; afterwards as a page at Court he had been obliged to live among rich people and this had made him acutely aware of his own poverty; he had determined then that once he had a chance to lay his hands on a little money he would take care not easily to be parted from it. When Barbara Castlemaine had been so enchanted with his powers as a lover that she had bestowed on him a gift of five thousand pounds he had been able to overcome the humiliation of accepting this in the contemplation that it was the beginning of the fortune he intended to make. One of the reasons why he and Sarah were so devoted was because it was natural for a young man in his position and of his nature to seek a wealthy marriage; when he had met Sarah he had fallen so deeply in love that he had been ready to waive the fact that she was penniless; this, in his case, showed so clearly the strength of his devotion that all were astonished. It was something Sarah would always remember; and so would he. She herself had desired a brilliant marriage and John had at that time to prove his genius. Having made their sacrifices they were determined that theirs should be a successful marriage; and as they were both people who were determined to have what they wanted from life, they had, as they both agreed, the perfect union. Much as he loved money John would not have exchanged Sarah for the richest heiress in the kingdom; as for Sarah she preferred a genius for whom she could help to create a career than one who had already proved himself.

Now he discussed with Sarah the need to provide Henrietta with a dowry.

“That is the trouble with daughters. One has to provide a dowry.”

“She ought to have ten thousand pounds,” declared Sarah.

John grew pale at the thought of parting with so much money. “I might manage five,” he said painfully. “We have to remember, my love, that it will soon be Anne’s turn and then there are Elizabeth and Mary.”

“It’s a pity Sidney gambles so. He’s continually embarrassed with debts, I hear. If Meg Blagge had lived she would never have allowed him to waste his money on gambling. She would have considered it a sin. But … five thousand, you say, Marl. If we can manage that, it will do. You will see.”