The King danced with his sister and with Aliena, and with one or two of the ladies of the French royal family, but mostly with his sister, although the ball went on until four in the morning and he danced every dance. Karellie wondered at that, and asked Aliena whether the King ever danced with other young women. She shook her head.
‘The King does not care to dance with any lady he has not known for a very long time, unless it is a relative. He is very - reserved.' She looked up at Karellie as if judging how much she might tell him, and then went on in a lower voice, 'You see, the King his father left a letter of very detailed advice for the governing of his kingdom and his life, and there was a very special instruction to be careful in his relationships with women. The late King spoke feelingly of his own dear-bought experience, and cautioned the King most pointedly. I think he has taken it very much to heart. He does not want to give his mother and sister any distress of that nature, and wishes to avoid what he thinks of as dangerous temptation. So he never has to do with strange ladies, and in our own Court hardly speaks to any female person except the Queen and Her Highness.'
‘And you,' Karellie said. She looked up with her burning-blue eyes.
‘And me. But then, I am one of the family to him.’
There was information and warning in her look. Was she telling him that he need not fear for her heart, that she knew how things stood with the King? He did not want her to have to practise patience and acceptance. Whoever she loved ought to love her; whoever she wanted she ought to have. He felt himself swell with indignation and the desire to protect, and even as it happened he wondered at himself. But she was, after all, his sister. In that moment he had almost forgotten the other half of it.
*
The early months of 1705 brought interest and amusement to Annunciata, for the Queen, in recognition of Marlborough's great victory at Blenheim, had decided to give him the royal manor at Woodstock, and to pay for a new house to be built there along a grand design. The choice of architect seemed simple, for Wren was head of the Board of Works and already building the new St Paul's cathedral and the palace at Greenwich, and was undoubtedly the most eminent architect of the day. But Vanbrugh, calling upon the Countess at Chelmsford House one morning, told her that the commission was to go to him.
‘All purely by chance, Countess, I assure you,' he laughed. 'I met Marlborough at the play last night, and we talked about it for a bit, and then I said, very casually, "Why, your grace, I hear you are to have a new house built at Woodstock", and he said, just as casually, "Yes, Sir John - would you like to build it?" '
‘You are an opportunist,' Annunciata laughed. Vanbrugh shrugged.
‘I could not refuse so noble a duke and hero, madam. What would you have me say? Besides, Wren is so busy, with St Paul's and Greenwich, he would not have the time.'
‘And you, Van, are busy with Howard's castle and my new house - how shall you have the time? At least Wren is in London most of the time, not two hundred miles away in Yorkshire.'
‘Ah, but I couldn't resist it, Countess! He talked a little of it - no expense is to be spared. It is to be the Versailles of England, a proper monument to England's greatest general and finest victory. Oh, you know the sort of thing.'
‘I read it daily in handbills,' Annunciata said drily. 'But tell me, what plans have you? After your design for Henderskelfe, how can you surpass yourself?'
‘Frankly, madam, I don't know. I think Henderskelfe will always be my favourite - does not a mother love her firstborn best? The first fruit of my brain has everything in it that I want to do. But I shall manage somehow.'
‘You must be sure to keep me informed of the progress. I should not want to miss a moment of Versailles' history,' Annunciata said. 'But you will not neglect my own small monument, will you?’
Vanbrugh kissed her hand. 'When I die, they will find Shawes carved upon my heart,' he promised.
Vanbrugh made his model, and Christopher Wren was sent to Woodstock on the Queen's behalf to estimate the cost of creating the reality. He came back with the news that it would cost £100,000. The news was staggering -why, Castle Howard in its most recent estimate was only expected to cost £5o,000. The Duchess Sarah told the Queen that it was nonsense, and that she was by no means to permit such scandalous extravagance. But Marlborough and Vanbrugh together were so enthusiastic that the Queen agreed to pay the sum out of her own incomes, and consequently the foundation stone was laid in June - eight foot square, and inlaid with the words 'In memory of the Battle of Blenheim, June 18th 1705, Anna Regina'.
Annunciata's own modest scheme, whose estimated cost was a mere £18,000, was progressing well. Vanbrugh, on one of his visits to the site with Annunciata, said, 'Much as I love Castle Howard, and the grand design, I'm not sure your house will not be the most exquisite of all. A palace in miniature. I can see why great painters like to turn their hands to miniatures now and then - it prevents a coarsening of the spirit.’
Arthur was once more working under Vanbrugh, and with Annunciata's permission had been given charge of the work at Shawes, where he had introduced one or two ideas of his own. Annunciata, who thought her grandson deplorable in looks and dull in character, was surprised at his grasp of architectural principles, and gave her opinion that he must be an architect by instinct, since he surely could not be one by intellect. He had settled down happily, it seemed, with Clover, though there was not yet any sign of a child. Clover did not come to Morland Place with him. Arthur said that she had become a regular businesswoman, and that all her years of helping Clovis run the Morland Place estate had given her a taste to govern her own concerns in person. Privately Annunciata thought it the best thing possible for her to have something to occupy her thus, especially as it kept matters out of Arthur's hands. Though her observation of Arthur had given her no evidence of debauchery, she could not, would not trust him.
That summer, which brought the wedding of John Rathkeale and Frances Francomb and their departure on a European Grand Tour by way of combining honeymoon for both and education for John, brought other changes in the family. Cathy Morland died quietly in her bed at Aberlady House, of no particular cause it seemed, other than old age. It shook Annunciata badly when the news came, for Cathy was only a few months older than she, not yet sixty-one. But then, she comforted herself, Cathy had never been strong from babyhood, and had suffered a great deal of ill-health as well as great unhappiness in her life, and had, moreover, been living for many years in Scotland which was next door to being completely outside civilization.
‘The Palgraves live long,' she said to Chloris. 'Look at my aunt Sofie.’
Chloris, who had heard all this before, nodded. 'Besides, madam,' she said, 'your parents were strong healthy people, not like poor Miss Cathy's.'
‘True,' Annunciata comforted herself. 'And I am as strong as ever I was. I still ride and walk and dance with as much energy as ever. I can outride most young people, if it comes to that.' And to prove it, she called for Phoenix to be brought and rode him out to Marston Moor and galloped him until he was tired, and Kithra whined and sulked all the way home.
Cathy missed seeing her first grandson by only a few weeks. Sabina was still in mourning black when she presented Allan Macallan with a son, whom they called Hamil. Cathy's will had left everything to Mavis's child Mary, for Allan would inherit his father's estate and his children were therefore provided for, but for the present the two families continued to live together, dividing their time between Aberlady House in the winter and Birnie Castle in the summer. It was a comfortable arrangement, for the three adults had grown up together, and they felt it would be pleasant for their children to do likewise.
Sabine's death in the autumn came as less of a surprise, for she had evidently been living by leasehold for some time, as she grew fatter and fatter and redder in the face. Her death took place probably as she would have liked it. She had hunted that day, having been heaved by main force on to the back of her heavy horse, and had thundered with
the best of them after the staghounds, only stopping when, short of breath, she had complained of pains in her chest. She had left the hunt and ridden home in the company of two servants when they drew the second covert, and before she reached home she had dropped the reins with a grunt of surprise, clapped her hands to her breast, and tumbled like a stone from the saddle. The servants had run to her and tried to revive her, but she was quite dead. She was forty-nine years old, and considering her mode of life it was a good age for her to reach.
Jane Birch died at the New Year. She was seventy-three, and had been growing more feeble all that year, but Annunciata found it harder to accept her death than that of the others, for Birch had been with her since her first Season in London, when she was fifteen. It was a lifetime ago, and more even than Chloris, Birch had witnessed all the sorrows and triumphs of her life, often sharp-tongued, often critical, but never less than entirely loyal. Annunciata could not do less for her old friend than to take her back to Morland Place, despite the winter weather. Jane Birch had been born a Londoner, but of latter years she had always referred to Morland Place as home, and it had been home to her and her mistress more than any other place.
Matt gave his permission for Birch's coffin to be placed in the crypt, until Shawes was finished, for Annunciata wanted to have her friend buried near her, and planned to move the coffin when the new house was ready. Father St Maur came too, and it was he who conducted the funeral service in the chapel at Morland Place, with the new priest, Father Cole, assisting. St Maur's voice trembled as he spoke the oration - he and Birch, as governor and governess to the Countess's children, had been close friends - and at one point it gave way altogether, and Father Cole, smoothly and tactfully, filled in the words until the old priest had recovered himself. It was a moving ceremony. Even India, vastly pregnant, wept real tears, though she had hardly known Birch. Matt, watching her with concern, was surprised at the tears; Clement, who knew more of the truth, was indignant.
After the service there were funeral baked-meats to be taken, and Annunciata got into conversation with Father St Maur's successor, and found him interesting, with a lively mind and more experience of the world outside the priesthood than was often the case. Matt told her that he had made himself thoroughly at home in the short time he had been there, and that the servants all liked him very much. He was willing to be useful in many little ways about the house and grounds, helped with the accounts, was knowledgeable about gardens and horses, taught the under servants to read and write, was training a choir of small boys from the village, was diligent about visiting sick tenants, and was giving Jemmy and Rob their first lessons.
‘A very paragon,' Annunciata said drily. Matt looked proudly at his wife, vast in much-frilled black, overseeing the burnt ale.
‘India chose him. She is a wonderful judge of character. I was quite wrong in my previous choice, but she has got it right this time.’
Annunciata discounted all of this as fatuous nonsense, but said, 'He does seem a pleasant young man, indeed, and handsome for a priest.’
India went into labour the day after the funeral, no doubt brought on by the emotional strain of the day, and with very little trouble produced her fourth child, a boy, a long, dark baby with a great deal of hair and an unexpectedly large nose for a baby. India told Matt that he was to be called George, which annoyed Annunciata greatly, since the name George to her was anathema, calling to mind the George Lewis who was intended to usurp the throne from King James.
Matt, caught between wanting to humour his wife, whom he loved, and wanting to humour the Countess, whom he respected, said, 'It is a good name, Grandmother, and a compliment to Queen Anne - and you have always liked her husband Prince George, have you not?'
‘I have not objected to him. He is a perfectly harmless man,' Annunciata said. 'But the fact remains it is a German name, and belongs to dull, German men. It does not belong to a Morland, or a Stuart.’
But Matt, though apologetic, had no mind to cross India, especially when she was still in childbed, and so the infant was christened George by Father Cole, and Annunciata, though polite, took her leave for London, despite being requested most cordially to stay until the good weather and the building season began.
In London there were more serious concerns, and Annunciata longed for Clovis, so that she could have immediate and detailed knowledge of what was going on at Westminster and St James's; though Vanbrugh, as honorary member of the exclusive Whig club, the Kit-Kat, did his best to keep her informed during his visits to London. The matter was the long-debated question of the union of England and Scotland, an idea that first saw the light of day when the thrones were united in the person of James I of England. It had been a dear wish of Usurper William, and had he lived he might well have engineered it himself; as time went on it was growing more urgent, for the Hanover succession was likely to depend largely upon it.
The Scottish Parliament had the right to offer the crown of Scotland to anyone it liked upon the death of Queen Anne, and in 1703 had passed an Act declaring as much, and not guaranteeing the succession in Scotland to George Lewis. If on Anne's death the throne of Scotland was given to King James, it would give the French a convenient back door into England, and would make it easy for James to conquer England from there. The Whigs were nervous at the prospect, and in December 1705 passed an Act to say that the Scots should be treated as aliens and trade with Scotland restricted until the Scottish Parliament settled the crown of Scotland on the English successor.
The Border trade was important for Scotland, and it was enough to induce the Scottish Parliament to agree to negotiate, and when Annunciata arrived back in London the plans had already been made for commissioners from both countries to meet in April at Whitehall for the preliminary discussions. A union between the countries would be a triumph for the Whigs and make the Hanover succession more likely, but Annunciata could not believe that the Scots would ever consent to the union. She also had her doubts about Anne's eventual choice falling on George Lewis: she had never forgotten his snubbing her when she was just a young girl, and had always loathed even the sound of his name; and she was also known to have grave feelings of guilt about her behaviour towards her father.
There were strong links with the Court at Hanover — the husband of Annunciata's half sister Ruperta had recently been sent to the Herrenhausen as a special emissary of the Queen, and there was a plan mooted to bring Electress Sofie and her son to England so that they should be on hand when Anne died; but equally there were strong, though hidden, links with St Germain, and Annunciata knew, through Vanbrugh's gossip, that few of the Whig lords, even the great Marlborough himself, had not made their devoirs to King James, to be on the safe side. That summer, in June 1706, James's eighteenth birthday brought his minority to an end, and the Council of Regency was dissolved. This fact, together with the looming possibility of union between England and Scotland, made it more and more likely that there would be an invasion soon on the young King's behalf. Annunciata knew that her position would be dangerous in such an event, and began, very circumspectly, to make plans for flight if necessary.
*
The Treaty of Union was passed by the Scottish Parliament in January 1707, and there were riots in Glasgow and Edinburgh, and the news-sheets all talked of the possibility of bloodshed, civil war, and invasion. In London there was a thanksgiving service at St Paul's, with a splendid procession and speeches about the most glorious day of Anne's reign. The union was deemed to begin on 1 May, and the elders of the Kirk of Scotland declared 1 May a day of fasting and mourning for the country's humiliation. Annunciata received word from Edmund at St Omer that Colonel Nathaniel Hoocke had been sent to Scotland as a special emissary, to sound out the great lords on the possibility of a rising. She knew Hoocke, whom she had met at St Germain when he had joined the Irish guards there - he had been one of the visitors to her fire that first long winter. She had known of him before that, indeed, for he had been chaplain to the Duke of Monmouth
and had accompanied him during the rebellion, escaping into hiding after Sedgemoor. After two years he had thrown himself on the mercy of King James II, and when the latter had pardoned him, he had shewn his good faith by converting to Catholicism and later going into exile with him. He had fought at the Boyne with Karellie, and was about five or six years older than her son.
Even before Hoocke had reported back to the King at St Germain, eight Scottish lords had travelled secretly to France to beg the King and King Louis to come to Scotland and lead the Scots against the English who had taken away their independence. From Edmund, Annunciata heard that their eloquence had moved both kings, and later when Hoocke reported that the whole nation was ready to rise and that troops numbering nearly thirty thousand would be available, a definite plan for an invasion in January was put in hand. Annunciata burnt the letter very carefully, and sat for a long time deep in thought.
Her own position was difficult. She was in England unofficially, and by the favour of Queen Anne, but if there was an invasion, she would almost certainly be either arrested or expelled as dangerous. Yet if she went now to Scotland, or abroad, she would alert the Queen's agents. She ought, of her duty to her King, do everything she could to aid him, but the thought of Morland Place was unpromising. Little Matt, completely preoccupied with his estate and his wife; frivolous India, recently delivered of her fifth son, Thomas, and with a full nursery to occupy her; would they have time or will to spare for the King over the Water? She did not think either of them cared a jot who sat on the throne of England, provided they were left in peace.
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