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John, frantic at the thought of losing her, told her he was ready to defy his family and begged her to marry him—in secret. This Sarah considered and, deciding that once the marriage was an accomplished fact the Churchills would have to accept it, agreed.
So she became Mrs. John Churchill when she was eighteen and John twenty-eight. She had gone at once to the Italian Duchess of York and confessed to her what she had done, finding there, as she had expected, nothing but sympathy. Thus the marriage remained a secret for some months, but then the Duchess spoke to the Churchills who, since such an important lady was supporting her lady-in-waiting, could no longer keep up their objections. They received Sarah, accepting the marriage, thankful that, because of it, their son had been brought to the further notice of the Duke and Duchess of York, who, taking a personal interest in the young couple, were inclined to favor them.
The young Duchess of York, who was on very good terms with her stepchildren, listened to Anne’s eulogies on her beloved Sarah; and Sarah told Anne of the virtues of John, which were in turn passed on to the Duke and the Duchess.
It was all very satisfactory, but since the Duke of York was growing so unpopular and had, on occasions, been sent out of England on what could only be called exiles, Sarah was uncertain as to whether she had attached herself to the right faction. The Duke’s interest in Catholicism was going to ruin him if he were not careful. Anne was the Princess to whom she must adhere. The Duke’s folly was an example of how a once popular Prince could become unpopular. Sarah must be on the winning side.
Sarah’s interests had been slightly diverted from Court for a while when her daughter Henrietta had been born; and recently there had been another daughter whom Sarah had had the foresight to christen Anne. She left the children in the care of nurses, for with a husband and children to plan for, quite clearly she must act with care, and that meant remaining at Court. She had always known that the Princess was as capable of folly as her father and this affair with Mulgrave was proving that. If it were discovered that she, Sarah, had helped in that intrigue, she would be decidedly out of favor with such important people as the Duke and Duchess of York—worse still, with the King.
It was matters like this which could ruin years of careful planning; she must think very carefully of how she must act.
The King of England was the most approachable of monarchs. He encouraged his subjects to talk to him and never doubted his ability to be able to please them; and in fact was always ready to grant the requests they made; if it was difficult to fulfill them he could always blame the failure to do so on his ministers.
When Rochester had made his famous quip pointing out that he never said a foolish thing and never did a wise one, Charles had retorted with customary wit that his words were his own, his actions his ministers. He was grateful to Rake Rochester for pointing this out; he reckoned that once this was generally understood he had the perfect excuse.
It was typical of him that he should find a way for himself out of any difficulty that arose. He often wished that his brother James were a little more like himself, because he saw trouble accumulating for James when his turn came to wear the crown.
He was sitting watching the card play, two of his favorite mistresses, Louise de Kéroualle—Duchess of Portsmouth—and Nell Gwyn, beside him. These two never failed to divert him, and together they were more amusing than apart. Louise played the great lady never so arrogantly as when in Nelly’s company and Nelly played the gutter-brat never so bawdily as when with Louise.
With great affection he regarded them; they had pleased him for many years and he hoped would continue to do so for many more; though lately he had begun to feel his vigor passing. A sad state, he thought, for a man to find his senses flagging when his greatest pleasure has been the gratification of those senses.
A pity. He had never been a great eater, drinker, or gambler. No, for him there was no pleasure like being in love.
It pleased him now to glance from Louise to Nelly and to contemplate with which he should spend the night; he knew that they too were wondering; if it were Nelly she would be boasting throughout the Court tomorrow. She was a mad, wild creature; and Louise could not understand how he tolerated her.
Louise now bent toward him and said: “A young woman was asking for an audience with Your Majesty this day.”
The King raised his eyebrows. It was unlike Louise to bring young women to his notice.
“I’ll warrant she comes to ask a favor for herself,” he murmured.
“Or for Mademoiselle Carwell,” added Nelly quietly.
Louise flashed her a look of hatred; nothing could anger her more than to hear the people’s version of her name. Kéroualle—Carwell. The King’s lips turned up at the corners.
“Come, Nelly,” he said, “you ladies know that if you desire aught you have no need to send others to plead for you.”
“The best beggars often train others to beg for them, Your Majesty,” retorted Nelly. “It’s a good trade … begging for beggars.”
“You should be well aware of such trades,” said Louise. “I am afraid I lack your knowledge.”
“I’ll teach you one fine day,” Nelly told her. “Catholic whores should learn to keep up with the Protestants.”
Louise shuddered, and the King said: “More of the fair young beggar.”
“It was one of the Princess Anne’s women, Your Majesty. She would tell me nothing, and said she could tell it to none but Your Majesty. It was Churchill’s wife.”
The King laughed at the mention of Churchill. He thought of an occasion when he had called on Barbara and caught her with that young man.
“Churchill,” he said. “They tell me the fellow has reformed since his marriage.”
“I have heard it too, Your Majesty.”
“God’s fish, he was in need of reformation.”
“If all those who were in need of reformation reformed, the Court would be a sadder place,” suggested Nelly, looking slyly at the King.
“Now who of us would not be better off if we foresook our evil ways, Nelly?”
“Two ladies—if I may call them by the name—not so far from Your Majesty. For if the biggest rake of them all decided to reform, where should we be? I’d perforce return to the boards and Madame here to crying stinking fish in Brittany.”
“I refuse to remain in the company of this creature,” said Louise.
“Hurrah!” cried Nelly.
Louise had risen and walked haughtily away glancing at the King almost angrily as though commanding him to dismiss Nelly and follow her.
Charles affected not to see her, reflecting: Well, they have decided between them. It shall be Nelly tonight.
He liked having such decisions made for him.
The next day he remembered the scene when he found Sarah Churchill standing before him.
A connoisseur of women he automatically summed her up. Virago, he thought, and wondered whether if he had been a younger man she might have attracted him. Although he was ready to promise almost anything for the sake of peace, he could not help being attracted by viragos. Barbara had been one to outdo all others; Louise was not far off—only she fought with tears. This Sarah Churchill, like Barbara, would never do that. He saw the stamp of ambition on her face and wondered momentarily if she would attempt to become his mistress for the sake of advancing her husband’s fortunes. He was so lazy, if she did, he probably would give way.
Her first words showed him how wrong he had been.
“Your Majesty, I feel it my duty to bring a certain matter to your notice. I have given much thought to this and know it now to be my duty. It concerns the Princess Anne. Have I your permission to continue?”
“Pray do,” said Charles, thinking: No, I never would. She is too hard, this one. And I am old and more selective than in the days of my youth. Young she is and handsome, but she’d make too many bargains before getting into bed.
“The Earl of Mulgrave seeks to marry the Princess Anne, Your Majesty.”
He regarded her sleepily.
“I have proof of his intentions,” she went on. “This I have brought to lay before Your Majesty.”
He took the paper and read the words written there. She was right. A love letter written by his niece to Mulgrave. It would seem that this affair had gone farther than it should have been allowed to.
“I trust, Your Majesty, I have acted wisely.”
“I am certain that Mrs. Churchill will always act wisely,” said the King graciously.
“Then Your Majesty is not displeased with me?”
“You did not fear that I should be displeased with you,” he said with a smile she did not understand. “It is my niece’s displeasure you expect.”
“Your Majesty, I beg that this may be kept secret from the Princess Anne.”
“Who,” put in Charles, “has no notion that you have stolen her little billet doux?”
“Only because I considered it my duty to … the Princess.”
“Readily understood, Mrs. Churchill. Have no fear. And … I thank you.”
“I thank Your Gracious Majesty.”
She curtseyed and retired while he stood looking at the paper in his hand.
Poor little Anne! So she had found there was something as sweet in the world as chocolate. There had been times when he had thought she never would.
He folded the paper carefully and put it into his pocket; then he summoned one of his pages and told him that he wished the Duke of York to be sent to him without delay.
When James arrived Charles held out the note which Sarah had brought him.
James took it gingerly and when he read it he looked up, bewildered, into his brother’s face.
“You see,” said Charles, “that our little Anne is ripe for marriage.”
“But Mulgrave!” cried James.
“I echo your sentiments,” Charles told him. “I have fancied that of late my lord had become too hopeful.”
“You think Anne is in love with the fellow?”
“Anne loves him as she loves sweetmeats, brother, and the love for a sweetmeat is a passing fancy. There it is … ah, delectable, adorable. What flavor! The taste lingers for a while—a very little while. And then it is gone. When we have removed Mulgrave from her greedy little eyes she will be looking round for the next fancy. We must find something very sweet and succulent for her, brother.”
“My poor child. I cannot forget Mary.”
“Anne is not Mary; and we will try to find her a more attractive bridegroom than the Orange.”
“I was never in favor of that marriage.”
“Your misfortune James is that you have rarely been in favor of what was to your advantage.”
Charles gave his brother a melancholy smile. What will become of him when I am gone? he asked himself. There would be trouble. With Monmouth casting sheep’s eyes at the crown and William who couldn’t cast sheep’s eyes if it were a matter of saving his life to do so—still, if the poor fellow could not lech for a woman he could for a throne. William could be as chock-full of passion as Monmouth when it came to the crown of England; and there was James—ineffectual, with a genius for doing the wrong thing at the worst possible moment. Oh, God, thought Charles, never was a man more thankful than I that he’ll be out of the way when his inheritance is for sale.
“James,” he said, “why cannot you show some sense? Why not let it be known that you’ve given up this flirtation with popery?”
“Given it up! Flirtation! I like not your levity, brother.”
“If you could season your seriousness with my levity, James, and I could mix a little of your seriousness with my levity—what a pair we would make! Nay, but if I were a betting man, which I’m not, I would wager my levity would carry me farther from trouble than your seriousness. If you would ostentatiously attend the Protestant Church, if you would practice popery in secret.…”
“You are asking me to deny my faith.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.”
“More’s the pity; but I’d not be proud to join the miserable band.”
“Do you call our illustrious grandfather one of a miserable band?”
“Our grandfather! I am tired of hearing how he said Paris was worth a mass.”
“If you could learn a lesson from his wisdom, James, you would be a wiser man. Do you want to go a-wandering again? God’s fish, man, you have just come back from Scotland. Do not tell me that you enjoyed your exile.”
“Enjoyed it! Enjoyed being driven from my own country, forbidden to return to my native land … the land which one day—though I trust not for years and years—I could be called upon to rule!”
“There’s the trouble, James. They are not going to be eager to call upon you to perform that duty.”
“It is my right.”
“These people consider that we govern only at their invitation. Take care, James, that that invitation is not withdrawn. I tell you this: I did enough wandering in my youth, and I am of no mind to start again.”
“Your Majesty fears the people might send you away.”
“Nay, James, never. They would not rid themselves of me to get you!” Charles began to laugh. “No matter what I did they’d still take Charles in place of James. Now, brother, I’m warning you—and I’m forgetting why I sent for you. We must find a bridegroom for Anne … without delay. Our little plum is ripe for the picking. She needs a husband. Bless her heart, she shall have one.”
“But not the one of her choice,” said James sadly. “Whom have you in mind?”
“It is a question I have been pondering ever since I received this note.”
“I hear that Louis’s wife is ill.”
“A French marriage! A Catholic marriage! Are you indeed out of your mind, James?”
“My little girl the Queen of France.”
“It would not do. But first there is something which I am sure you will agree must be done without delay. I think we should be together when we receive our ambitious young lover. I will summon him without delay.”
“What are you going to do with him?”
“Do not look alarmed, James. You know I never take revenge. Nor do I wish my subjects to be in awe of me. I have no wish to be like some of our ancestors. ‘Off with his head. He has offended me!’ ” Charles grimaced at the arch over the fireplace which was decorated with Tudor roses and the initials H. and A. “I do not wish my subjects to go in fear and trembling. I would have them know that I do not take revenge; when I am harsh there is no personal animosity. It is a case of: ‘The situation demands this—therefore the King is forced to do it.’ ”
Mulgrave, who was in his apartments writing a poem in praise of the Princess Anne was startled when summoned to the King’s presence. He could not believe that they were discovered; how could this be? They had been so careful; and Anne would never have told because she had sworn not to do so.
What if the King had singled him out for some honor! His luck was in. Why should it not continue?
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