The Queen's Favourites aka Courting Her Highness (v5) by Jean Plaidy Page B

in herself would not permit her to see such irony.
    “I did know, Lady Marlborough, that you are so very kind and …”
    “Ha! And you hoped I had not forgotten you? That was rather impertinent of you, Abigail Hill. Had I forgotten you? Did I not see that you were well provided for in this house?”
    “Yes, Lady Marlborough.”
    “Well, of what have you to complain?”
    “I was not complaining, Lady Marlborough.” The face tinged with pink, the manner alarmed, scared humility in the eyes, the gesture of usually quiet hands.
    “But all the same you hoped for a place at Court, did you not?”
    “A place at Court. But Lady Marlborough, I …”
    “Oh, there are places and places. You did not expect that I was going to appoint you Secretary of State to his most Gracious Majesty. Eh, girl?”
    “But no, Lady Marlborough.”
    Sarah began to shake with laughter at the thought of Caliban’s receiving Abigail Hill as his Secretary of State.
    “It is not the King’s household in which I would place you.”
    Nor could you! thought Abigail. You are the last person to whom he would grant favours.
    “But that of the Princess.”
    “The Princess Anne?”
    “Who else? You will see little of the Princess, of course. We need a quiet reliable woman to look after the maids. I thought of you. It will be a good opportunity for you. I did not intend to keep you at St. Albans all your life. The Princess leaves the choice of posts to me and when I knew we wanted a Mother of the Maids I thought of you.”
    Abigail’s face was faintly pink, and even she found it difficult to suppress her excitement. She would be near John and Alice; they could see each other, exchange experiences. At last Abigail was to have what the others were enjoying: a place at Court.
    “Well, Abigail?”
    “I do not know how to thank you, Lady Marlborough.”
    Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “I doubt not that you will find a way of doing so. You will have to keep those women in order. Do you think you can, Abigail Hill?”
    “I will do my best, Lady Marlborough.”
    “You will find them a feckless band … given to gossip and often disrespectful to their betters. If you should hear anything interesting you should let me know at once. I like to be aware of what is being said.”
    “Anything interesting …?”
    “I am sure you are intelligent enough to know what would interest me. Any scrap of knowledge about the Princess or the King; or if anyone should gossip about the Earl or myself in your presence … You understand?”
    “Yes, Lady Marlborough.”
    “Well then, you should prepare for your journey at once. I see no reason why there should be any delay.”
    Abigail went to her powder closet, dazed and bewildered. Escape from this house which she hated; and a place at Court!
    But as a spy for Lady Marlborough. At least that was what Lady Marlborough expected; yet perhaps when she had her place it would not be necessary to do all that Lady Marlborough ordered. Who could say?

    A few days after that interview, Lady Marlborough left St. Albans and Abigail went with her. It was pleasant to travel in such state, but more pleasant still when they reached London.
    Lady Marlborough went straight to St. James’s Palace, taking Abigail with her, and very soon Abigail was being presented to the Princess.
    She saw a large woman, with light brown hair and highly coloured complexion, whose expression was mild perhaps on account of her eyes, the lids of which appeared to be contracted. This gave her a helpless look. Her hands were perfectly shaped, her fingers tapering; they were very white and they attracted immediate attention, perhaps because with her sweet and gentle voice they were her only beauty.
    “Your Highness,” Lady Marlborough was saying, and Abigail remembered afterwards that her tone was just as imperious in St. James’s Palace as it was in the house at St. Albans, “this is my relation. The new Mother of the Maids.”
    The shortsighted eyes were