Abigail's Cousin

by Ron Pearse

  "Put it in your pocket, old man. It's your official seal of office. Ever used one! They're quite straightforward. You've poured wax before."

  Harley did not respond still in a dream as Hedges spoke to him:

  "Congratulations, Secretary of State. You will find your full title in this document." He handed him a scroll, tied around the middle with red tape.

  Hedges noted Harley's silence, saying in friendly tone: "Head still in the clouds, I dare say. Like I said earlier, make the most of it. Tell you what! Call in at Jonathon's. You know the coffee house. Treat your friends. Make the most of the day. You won't see another like it."

  Harley could only smile feeling a little ostentatious as he took his leave. He descended the steps alone then walked back along the corridor into a small courtyard which hitherto looked unfamiliar and he wondered if had opened the correct door, but he gained the open air and once more felt lost as the carriage was nowhere to be seen. He spoke to a footman wondering if he were the same one who had met him earlier. They looked all alike. He said to him:

  "Will you convey my compliments sir to my coachman and warn him of my imminent departure."

  The footman walked away but rather than be seen waiting Harley, though feeling somewhat foolish holding his stick and scroll, with the chain of office still round his neck, sauntered off towards the garden path. A thought struck him and he looked around for the woman in the striped dress. He heard a voice behind him:

  "Are you looking for something, sir?" It was a woman's voice and he spun around to face her again feeling foolish with all his accoutrements of office but managed to reply:

  "Good day mistress. Is it mistress Abigail? Do you remember the Ferrers’ household where last we met?"

  "Gracious me, yes," she answered, "Is it Mr Harley. I scarce recognised you. I would help you with... but as you see, I too am burdened."

  Harley saw she had both arms full with baskets of flowers as when he paid particular attention to them, she explained:

  "This is the coltsfoot. Are not the yellow blooms beautiful? Underneath be primrose and a few cowslip." Then, pointing to the right basket said:

  "All white willow. It's grown outside in the park which is why it's taken me so long. Still it's good to be in the open air especially on a day, like today."

  He said: "It suits you mistress. You have a wonderful complexion," which she dismissed abruptly saying:

  "In other words, over-exposed and red! Never mind! I am not of the Court." Then pointing out his accoutrements, she commented:

  "We have little use for such things in the country, sir, but they are as necessary to you I daresay, as a trowel is to me. Can I direct you somewhere?"

  Brought to the business of his earlier thoughts and now having to articulate them, he hesitated, but said finally:

  "Did you know Mistress Hill of a Harley in your family?"

  She admitted: "I do remember, sir when last we met, you would make enquiry. Personally it did not bestir me as we are all related to Adam and Eve, are we not?"

  Harley was not disconcerted for he had a purpose and continued:

  "My mother's maiden name was Stephens."

  At once Abigail put down her baskets eyeing the man's accoutrements with interest. It was not everybody who might be related to such an obviously important man. All this flashed through her mind in an instant, as, unlike the usual country woman, she was fleet in thought. Coquettish she ventured:

  "Co-incidence! My grandmother's name. But you know better, Mister Harley, don't you?"

  Harley was taken aback by her attitude and though he had planned a bolt from the blue, realised he had met his match in this woman, so merely said: "It seems my grandfather and your grandmother were brother and sister."

  "Tis a small world, sir!" Were her words, adding: "I take it we be cousins."

  "Second cousins," he confirmed. He smiled holding out his hand which she took and he put his other hand atop hers and said meekly:

  "May I be p-permitted to address you as cousin, mistress."

  "You have the advantage of me sir."

  "Ah, yes. Robert! Cousin Robert, at your service, cousin."

  She said: "Delighted to resume our acquaintance, cousin Robert. You have known me as Abigail for some time. I might say since we last met my position has not changed, but by the look of that chain, white stick and scroll you are moving up in the world."

  "Her majesty has been p-pleased to appoint me as one of her secretaries," said Harley modestly, adding, "yet I hear cousin that she is far more beholden to you. Advice from me is but one source among many whereas your services are indispensable to her majesty's welfare." Harley tried to stop her picking up her baskets and moving on, saying:

  "I am sincere, cousin Abigail, believe me. I feel myself to be in the presence of goodness."

  "You are too kind, sir." she replied but no more could be said as just then they heard steps approaching and a footman appeared. He seemed somewhat put out:

  "I've looked everywhere for you sir. I never dreamed you had business with servants."

  Harley looked at the footman. His uniform suited him for it fitted him perfectly. He was also handsome and smiled pertly until Harley told him:

  "Sir! You are im-p-pertinent. Had I business with anyone it is not for you to comment upon. On your way! Tell the driver I shall be along. Dismiss!"

  As the man retreated, Harley turned to Abigail: "Let me know if anything untoward arises, cousin. We must stand fast together against the world, we cousins. It is my honour to take my leave of you."

  She said: "Have no fear cousin Robert. The boy was a little overwrought with looking for you. He is a good lad."

  He took her hand in his and kissed it, saying: "Farewell cousin. I shall look forward to my next visit at Windsor."

  He turned and walked back along the path, turning once to wave but her back was already turned as she walked along another path towards an entrance into Garden House.

  Chapter 6

  The Garden House favoured by Queen Anne has long since been demolished but in her time it was a well-appointed lodge surrounded by gardens, well almost, from the south side the queen enjoyed a splendid view across the park and loved to sit at the window observing the comings and goings of carriages usually carrying her visitors, ministers perhaps obliged to make the journey from Westminster to see her on matters of state and other business.

  Lately it had also become a favourite place of residence for her husband and consort, Prince George of Denmark, who had preferred the busy milieu of St. James Palace and whose presence here is entirely down to his health needing the clear country air for his worsening asthma. His continued absence from the 'smoke', as London has come to be nicknamed, comes by personal recommendation of the court physician, Dr Arbuthnot, who believes the Windsor air is more conducive to his majesty's health.

  As the queen tries to concentrate upon the latest state papers delivered to her, she wracks her brains to try and visualize the names written down by her Chancellor. They are a list of distinguished personages recommended for honours upon the forthcoming celebration of the anniversary of her marriage to George taking place on July 28th. She is distracted from her task by coughing and wheezing from George's bedroom somewhat removed along the corridor but nonetheless insistent; the sounds torture her conscience. Then for seconds, minutes there is silence and listening intently but hearing nothing, she slumps back sighing with relief, and is then aware of the reason for the cessation of those heart-rending sounds when she beholds the figure and countenance of her bedchamber-woman. She addresses her:

  "Oh, Hill, it's stopped. What a relief! Is he asleep?"

  "Yes, ma'am," the woman agrees, "his majesty is now sleeping peacefully and soundly and if you listen carefully, you might well hear a gentle snore."

  "Wonderful Hill!" she meant it from the bottom of her heart, "Wonderful, it's a miracle."

  "The miracle, ma'am," said Hill gently, "is essence of pine. It takes a time for the vapou
r to circulate but by wafting the steam towards his majesty, it helps to decongest the airways."

  "Spare me the details, Hill" said the queen tetchily as she bent over the papers, and her servant sensitive to her employer's moodiness, withdraws to the queens dressing room where she busies herself mixing the queen's night-time drink and the sounds of mixing, the clatter of utensil upon vessel, are now the only ones audible.

  She puts the papers aside and places both hands over her eyes, putting her head back against the cushion on her daybed, but only for a moment. Opening her eyes, she contemplates her bandaged foot. Only hours before Dr Arbuthnot placed leeches for a while and withdrew them, instructing her servant to cover the slight wound with a dressing and a bandage but the ointment he had brought with him to stem the bleeding , has failed to staunch the seeping blood, and both bandage and dressing gradually turned red.

  "Hill!” Her call was obeyed with alacrity and her servant stood beside her as the queen begged:

  "Do stop the bleeding Hill. It will bleed all night unless you do something. Please!" The last request was made with upturned face, a queen to her subject.

  But Hill though compassionate was concerned: "What will Dr Arbuthnot say, ma'am? You know what happened the last time!"

  Anne frowned, then looked up and said:

  "Then we shall not tell him, shall we!"

  Hill was frowning herself as she approached her mistress and knelt beside the daybed, lowering her head:

  "Will you command me, ma'am!"

  The queen placed her hand tenderly upon Hill's right cheek and whispered:

  "I Understand Hill. My command overrides the doctor's, is that it?"

  There was moisture at the corner of Hill's eyes as she nodded and the queen smiled and said:

  "I command you Hill to stop the bleeding."

  The servant got up and went again into the ante-room and returned with a tiny bottle, a philtre, which was corked and laid it on a small side-table before turning to the bandage which she carefully unwound pausing as she reached where the blood was congealed, slowly pulling it away then resuming until the wound was laid bare. A fresh seepage of blood was evident and laying the bandage to one side, Hill took her bottle, removed the cork and placing her thumb over the top upended it and placed the moistened thumb across the wound. She saw the queen wince as the astringent lotion covered the tiny punctures left by the leeches.

  "St James' Wort!" said Anne and Hill nodded saying: "It acts quickly. See it has stopped already. Dr Arbuthnot will be pleased when you tell him his ointment is as good as he promised. But I must replace the bandages."

  She did so skilfully allowing the bloodstains to cover the wound as before and rebound the foot. She turned:

  "Are you ready for your posset, ma'am?"

  Anne had closed her eyes and did not see her servant rising in order to leave her presence. Opening them she spoke to the retreating figure:

  "Don't leave me just yet, Hill. Please! Draw up a chair. Come and sit beside me here."

  "Where the lord Godolphin sat a few hours ago, ma'am; he brought you those papers."

  "You don't miss anything, Hill. Did you catch what he was saying?"

  "He spoke of weighty matters, ma'am. It's not my place."

  The queen looked at Hill sharply wondering if her remark was innocent or clever, and undecided, said: "He did speak of weights."

  Hill prompted her employer, saying: "About putting weights on horses to even out their handicap. It was very confusing to me, ma'am." Hill lied.

  "It's all quite simple, Hill" enthused Anne, "you see, if a horse has won many races and is due to race against horses which have no form, have not won a race, then the winning horse is loaded with extra weights."

  Hill said: "Poor horses! What with the weights and the weight of the rider you wonder they can move at all."

  That remarks struck Anne as droll and she chuckled: "My lord Godolphin has taken a special interest in these matters and runs his own stable at Newmarket. My lord left me a list of ye horses at ye next meeting." Anne looks to see where Godolphin left the list. Finds it and invited Hill to draw her chair even closer.

  "My lord has asked me to pick a couple of names which he has promised to back for me. You must help me, Hill. You must close your eyes and put your finger somewhere on the list."

  Hill agreed to the queen's request and closing her eyes she whirled her finger a few times, and placed it on the paper.

  "Alright Hill, let go. I have it. Let me read what you have picked." She reads and says: "Sir Isaac Newton. Strange name for a horse."

  She looks a little confused then strikes hand against her forehead saying:

  "I picked up ye wrong list, Hill. This is a list of the people eligible for an honour. Perhaps it's an omen. Pick another Hill."

  She does and the queen repeats the procedure, saying: "Daniel Defoe. Have you heard of him, Hill?"

  "Indeed ma'am, he's a story teller. His latest is the story of Robinson Crusoe who was marooned on an island." She stopped noticing the queen's head suddenly falling to her chest as she wearily said:

  "How fortunate you are Hill. These days I scarcely have time to say my prayers." Opening her eyes they danced with joy saying:

  "Tomorrow, Hill, I go hunting. Hunting through ye Windsor Park in my chaise in pursuit of ye buckhounds." She looked at Hill and enthusiastically cried: "Have you seen those enormous dogs. They be like ponies, and such a thrill. I can forget everything, Hill. All ye worries. All ye papers, like these here." She swept them to the floor in a grand gesture and Hill was about to dutifully pick them up but was stayed, as the queen went on:

  "Forget, Hill, forget ye war, ye parliament, ye government, forget ye evil men, ye Whigs, ye Tories." She stopped and leaned back eyes closed. Hill said meekly: "I like it best ma'am when you return. Your face seems aglow with good health."

  "And hunger!" said Anne adding, "Do make more of ye saffron cakes, Hill and tea, what is that flavour?"

  "Bergamot, ma'am" answered Hill, "I get it from the East India shop."

  "What have you for me tonight Hill?"

  "Greengrass and honey, ma'am. It will relax you and give you a restful night."

  The queen smiled assent to Hill rising and proceeding to the anteroom. A clock strikes. She hears her George still snoring and smiles. A few minutes later Hill returns with a gently steaming cup, tasting it for heat and then handing it over to the queen who accepts and starts to sip motioning Hill to resume her place. After a few sips she turns to Hill saying:

  "I've been thinking Hill of that brother of yours. What has become of him?" Hill unthinkingly says loudly: "Jack!" whereupon the queen puts finger to lips conspiratorially and Hill whispers:

  "In his last letter ma'am, he told me about Captain Stanhope. How he persecutes my poor Jack."

  The queen thought a while then said aloud: "I shall find out about ye captain Stanhope. Write your brother to keep his spirits up. I may have a surprise for ye captain Stanhope, but that's between you and me, Hill. Leave it with me."

  Hill was moved, visibly and her voice shook with emotion:

  "Oh, your majesty, that you concern yourself with such lowly matters."

  Anne smiled, pleased with Hill's reaction and said comfortingly:

  "I get more pleasure Hill from ye little things than ye great affairs of state. Believe me!" In her concern for another, Anne had completely forgotten her low spirits of a short while ago, and she sank back on her daybed feeling aglow with warmth of contentment. She looked at Hill and said sincerely:

  "This is ye first opportunity Hill of doing something for you, for your family. I shall not let ye chance slip."

  'That was midnight, ma'am, those chimes. Shall I get you ready for bed?"

  The queen smiled assent thanking her good fortune that, at Garden House, there was no need for the ritual of bedtime that was habitual at St James Palace. She thanked her lucky stars to be without the odious presence of the official lady of the bedchamber. />
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  Queen Anne reclined on her daybed sipping a hot posset prepared by her bedchamber-woman, Abigail Hill who, in the queen's bedroom next door, was making final arrangements for the queen later to retire. She leaned back against the several cushions placed behind her and feeling contented and relaxed, she addressed her servant:

  "It do seem your brother be soon on ye way to ye Netherlands. Will you see him again before he goes, Hill?"

  At the sound of her voice, Hill had come to the door of the dressing room and spoke in reply:

  "Sadly no, your majesty. He has already left with the 227th foot to Ramsgate. It has all happened so quickly. I did not know we were at war, until he told me."

  There was a scraping sound from outside the door and Hill hurried over, the queen not bothering to respond as it was near bedtime and they both knew whom it might be. She opened it to admit a woman who stood across the threshold addressing the queen:

  "Does your majesty wish to retire?" The queen gave answer: "Indeed Lady Fitzharding. Will you help me stand?" She handed the empty cup to Hill taking her ladyship's hand and attempting to rise from the daybed.

  "Are you there, Hill!" commanded Fitzharding who wanted help as the queen was a very large and heavy woman and she was clearly in some discomfort, her gout, as usual, reacting to movement. Slowly the trio moved to the door the queen resting on Hill's arm more as there was insufficient space in the doorway for more than two. Then having gained the four poster bed, the queen feels great relief to sit while Hill prepares for the next step in the ritual of retirement.

  She goes down on her haunches and the queen in a panic says:

  "Hurry Lady Barbara or Hill will have the beating of you." She was teasing but the lady does not smile as she stoops to remove the queen's slippers handing each to Hill, then rises while she utters the mantra:

  "May I be of further service to you, your majesty?" The queen gives a formal reply: "You may leave me, Lady Barbara,"