George came into the Queen’s apartments, more animated than usual and with him he brought an odd pair—a country man and a woman, in all possibility his wife—who looked so incongruous in the Windsor apartments that Anne was startled.
Abigail who had been playing the harpsichord stopped and turned to watch; Anne’s attention was all for her husband and the odd little pair.
“My dearest,” cried George, “I must present to you these good people. This is John Duddlestone of Bristol and this his good wife. You remember, my dear, vot I haf told you of the gootness of John Duddlestone.”
Anne smiled at the pair of them, who seemed struck dumb, and said, “John Duddlestone, my dearest? Of Bristol?”
“You remember, my love.” He turned to them. “The Queen is so goot. She remember everything I tell her … and she likes much those who haf shown me the kindness.”
Anne mildly wished that George would express himself more clearly and come to the point, but she sat smiling graciously, never betraying by a fleeting expression that she had no notion who these people were.
Abigail, watching, thought then that it would be a great mistake to dismiss the Queen as a foolish woman. She was by no means so. Physical debility might make her seem lazy, amenable; but it was not so. Anne was so like many calm goodnatured people; she could give way frequently until she decided to make a stand; then none could be more stubborn. Moreover, a great determination to be worthy of her office had come to her. To watch her now with these two country people was a lesson in good manners and diplomacy. She had not wished to be disturbed; she could not be greatly interested in the Duddlestones; she could not remember what she had heard of them; yet she betrayed nothing of this.
George went on: “It is ven I am in Bristol. Ven I vas at the Exchange and none asked me to dine. Then Master John Duddlestone came to me and he says: ‘Vos you the husband of our Queen Anne?’ And I say, my love, that I haf that great joy and honour and he say ‘I am a humble bodice-maker of Bristol and no one asks you to dine because they think you too great and important gentleman because you are husband to our Queen. But the shame of Bristol vould be great if the husband of our Queen must dine at a inn because no Bristol door was opened to him.’ So, my love, he takes me to his home.”
George was beaming with pleasure and Anne was always delighted to see him pleased.
She looked at John Duddlestone and said: “Anyone who has shown kindness to the Prince, my husband, is a friend of mine.”
The Prince whispered: “You must kneel to Her Majesty.”
John Duddlestone did so with some awkwardness and Anne gave him her hand to kiss.
Then his wife came forward and made her clumsy obeisance.
George chuckled. “He call to his wife and say: ‘Wife, the Queen’s husband haf come to dine with us, so put on a clean apron and come down to greet the guest.’ So down she came in a clean apron.…”
“It were blue, Your Majesty,” said Mistress Duddlestone.
Anne smiled as though the colour of the apron was a matter of great interest.
“And a very good dinner it was,” said George reminiscently.
“His Highness is very particular about his food,” put in Anne; and again Abigail was surprised by her ability to take part in such a scene.
“So pleased,” went on George, “that I say, when next he comes to Windsor he must call and I give him dinner.”
“We came to buy whalebone, Your Majesty,” John Duddlestone told Anne.
“And you make …?”
“Stays, now, Your Majesty. For the fashion has changed. Once we made bodices but now we make stays.”
“So, they haf come to dine with me,” said the beaming Prince.
“Then,” said Anne, “they must dine with me also. Hill! Oh there you are, Hill. You will take Master and Mistress Duddlestone and tell them what they will need, and see that it is supplied for them.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Abigail, and led the couple away.
The Queen’s servants were discussing the affair.
The pages, Saxton, Smith and Kirk paused in their game of cards to offer their comment.
William Lovegrove, the coffer-bearer, said to Mrs. Abrahal, the Queen’s starcher: “Such a thing would never have happened if the Duchess were at Court.”
“Who ever heard of a stays-maker dining with the Queen?” demanded Mrs. Ravensford, the Queen’s seamstress.
“I repeat,” said Lovegrove, “the Duchess would never have allowed it.”
“Fitted out with Court dresses, if you please … provided from her own wardrobe and made to fit!”
“Purple velvet. Because when the Prince dined with them that was what he wore.”
“And the Queen knighting the fellow so that the bodice-and stays-maker will return to Bristol Sir John Duddlestone … and all because he gave a dinner to the Queen’s husband! Did you ever hear the like?”
“And what do you think? Not content with giving the man and his wife their titles the Queen took the gold watch from her side and gave it to Lady Duddlestone.”
Amid the shrill laughter that followed Mrs. Abrahal said that she reckoned Lady Duddlestone would go to market in her apron wearing the Queen’s gold watch.
The picture increased the hilarity to such an extent that Mrs. Danvers looked in to see what all the merriment was about. When she was told she tut-tutted with disapproval.
“I never heard the like!” she declared. “I wish I had been told earlier that the wardrobe was going to be raided to provide purple velvet for bodice-makers.”
“Mrs. Hill received the orders, Mrs. Danvers,” said Mrs. Abrahal. “I wonder I was not asked to starch a head for the new lady when I was doing the Queen’s.”
“Mrs. Hill receives most of the Queen’s orders now,” added Lovegrove.
“It’s true,” agreed Mrs. Danvers thoughtfully. “That girl is with Her Majesty most of the day.”
“On the Duchess’s orders, Mrs. Danvers.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Danvers slowly, “on the Duchess’s orders. If it were not so I would have a word to say to Her Grace about Mrs. Hill.”
“You can’t say the creature gives herself airs, Mrs. Danvers.”
“Indeed no. She creeps about so that you can never be sure when she has entered a room.”
“It struck me, Mrs. Danvers, that Her Majesty does not fret for the Duchess so much as she did at one time … now that she has her good Hill to look to her comfort.”
“I have noticed it,” said Mrs. Danvers. “But she was put there by Her Grace so there is nothing we can do … as yet.”
Prince George was dozing. It was those two hours in the afternoon when Anne and her husband were together and more and more of the time George spent asleep.
He is growing fatter, mused Anne. Poor dear George. When he is not eating and drinking, he is sleeping; and he wheezes more than ever. Perhaps it is good for him to rest.
She wanted to talk to him this afternoon. Coming from Windsor to St. James’s the people had cheered her. They had called: “Long Live the Queen. Long Live Good Queen Anne.” Good. She wanted to be good. People in rags had called to her and she fancied she had seen hope in their looks. They hoped because she was their Queen, and she did not want to fail them. Dear Mr. Freeman was helping to make England great abroad. They were saying he was the finest general in the world. That was good. Perhaps he would make a quick conquest and there would be peace so that she and her ministers would have an opportunity of bringing prosperity home. She did not care to see her subjects in need. And they had called to her: “Good Queen Anne!”