We must now return to pursue the homeward course of Sir Griffin
Markham, as he proceeded from the Tower of London to his little
lodgings, in one of the streets at the back of Petty Wales.
When he had walked about two-thirds of the way, he perceived a female
figure hurrying on before him, with a man carrying sword and buckler a
step behind him. She was wrapped in a large cloak; but there was
something about her light figure and easy walk which made Markham
instantly suppose that she was Ida Mara, and on passing by and looking
at her face, he saw that the supposition was correct.
He instantly stopped to speak to her; but the girl, who recognised
him, notwithstanding his change of dress, made him a sign to forbear
and go forward; and at the same moment, the servant with buckler and
broadsword told him in a sharp tone to walk on, and not stare into the
gentlewoman's face.
At length, at the shop of a silk merchant in a small way, Ida Mara
paused, while Markham hurried on to his own lodging. After a few
inquiries, and the purchase of some insignificant articles, Ida Mara
herself proceeded on her way, telling the man who accompanied her, to
wait where he was till her return, or till she called him. She was
soon in the entrance of Markham's lodging, the door of the passage
standing open; but just as she had passed the threshold, a hand was
laid upon her arm, and a voice exclaimed, in a tone of surprise,
"Ida!"
The fair Italian instantly turned round, and beheld Sir Harry West.
"In the name of fortune, my dear child, what are you doing here?" and,
perhaps, in the circumstances of those depraved times, the good old
Knight might have suspected any other of the attendants of the Court
of imprudent, if not criminal purposes, in coming thus, with some
degree of disguise, to such a part of the City.
But Ida Mara was not to be suspected; and, if a shade of doubt or
apprehension had crossed Sir Harry's mind, which it did not, the
beaming satisfaction which lighted up her face the moment she saw him,
would have dispelled it at once.
"Oh, I am so glad to see you, Sir Harry!" she cried; "I was coming to
seek you after I had been here. I have much to tell you; and if you
will wait one moment, I will be down directly."
"But where are you going to, my dear child?" asked the old Knight.
"Are you aware that this is not the most reputable part of London?"
"I did not know it," answered the girl, simply; "but at all events I
must go; for it is about our dear Lady's business, and I am to see a
person called Grey."
"I am going to visit the same man," replied Sir Harry, "so I will go
with you, if you have not any private conversation for his ear, my
fair Ida."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed the girl; "you may hear it all; for I have just
the same tidings to carry to you; and perhaps it may be better that
you should hear them together, for then you may devise some means of
remedying the new disasters which have befallen us."
"Stay a minute, Ida," said Sir Harry, seeing her about to mount the
stairs; "do you know the man you are about to visit? Do you really
know who he is?"
"He has carried several letters," replied Ida Mara, dropping her
voice, "from my lady to her husband, and from him to her. I know,
too," she added, in a still lower tone, "that his name is not Grey."
"That is enough--that is enough!" said Sir Harry. "Go on, my dear."
The girl then ascended the steps, and knocked at a door on the
first landing. Markham instantly opened it himself and admitted
them--somewhat surprised, indeed, to see Sir Harry with the fair
Italian--into a small, low-roofed chamber, scantily furnished, but
strewed in all parts with various anomalous pieces of dress, from
those of a high-bred cavalier to those of an inferior artizan. Swords,
daggers, one or two curious articles of _virtù_, ten or fifteen
volumes of books in rich old bindings, two masks, a pair of fencing
foils, and the head-piece and breast-plate of a horse-arquebusier,
gave it the air of a second-hand warehouse, and left scarcely a chair
vacant for the knight and his beautiful companion to rest themselves
upon.
"I am glad you are come," cried Markham, addressing Ida Mara, after a
few words exchanged with Sir Harry West. "They have straitened Mr.
Seymour's captivity; and I fear something has gone wrong at your
house, too. What is your news, sweet Mistress Ida? Bad, I fear!"
"As bad as it can be," answered Ida Mara: "they have discovered that
letters are given and received; an angry message has been sent by the
King to my Lady; and tomorrow morning she is to be removed to
Highgate, to the house of one Mr. Conyers, there to remain till a
lodging is prepared for her at a place called Durham."
"Durham!" exclaimed Markham; "that is destruction indeed. She must not
go to Durham, if we can prevent it, Sir Harry."
"How is that to be done?" demanded Sir Harry West.
"Faith, if need be," replied Markham, "she must feign illness."
"There is no need of feigning," answered Ida Mara, in a sad tone;
"for, from the moment she heard that news, she drooped her head like a
gathered flower, and if they bear her to Highgate, it will be all that
they can do."
"Give me three days, and I will undertake for her escape," exclaimed
Markham. "I am wiser now than I was some years ago, Sir Harry; and
know how to make use of my time. Will you aid me, noble Sir?"
"With my heart, hand, and means," said Sir Harry West; "for this cruel
tyranny of the King, towards so sweet and unoffending a lady,
justifies what would be otherwise unjustifiable, to thwart him. What
is to be done, my good friend?"
"Much," answered Markham, "very much; and we must divide the labour. I
dare not show myself amongst the great of the land; so you, Sir Harry,
must see Lord Beauchamp, and the Earls of Hertford and Shrewsbury;
they must furnish us with men, horses, and money. Let them collect as
many servants and beasts as they can round about Highgate, suffering
no three of the knaves to know where the others are, but with orders
to obey you or me implicitly. I will provide the ship, and the
disguises; and if we can but delay her journey till such a time as
suspicion and vigilance be somewhat laid asleep, we are all safe. Tell
me, Mistress Ida, is there any man about the lady who may be trusted?
How many servants has she allowed her?"
"Three men," replied Ida; "but the only one to be trusted is Cobham,
who has been with her long. He is prudent, and would sacrifice his
life for her, I am sure."
"Then you must let him into our secret," said Markham; "first speaking
with the lady, and asking her consent. You must tell her, too, to be
prepared at any moment to put our scheme in execution; let nothing
take her by surprise; and, above all, give her some hint that it may
be needful she should put on man's attire. If I know her rightly, that
will be the greatest stumbling-block."
"It will not please her," answered Ida Mara; "but still, for her own
sake and her husband's, I am sure she will consent."
"Were it not better," asked Sir Harry, "that the one escaped first,
and the other followed?"
"No, no," replied Markham; "I have thought of that; but I am very
sure, that the durance of the other would be rendered ten times as
severe, the moment one was gone. Let them both go together, Sir Harry,
then there is but one risk for all."
"But there is a difficulty," said Sir Harry West, "which you have not
foreseen, good sir. Mr. Seymour has pledged himself not to go
beyond----"
"That is at an end," exclaimed Markham; "they have taken from him the
limits they allowed; and, consequently, he is freed from his promise.
He is willing enough now to escape, and, moreover, feels sure of
effecting it with little, if any, need of help: we shall but have to
let him know where the ship lies, and he will undertake the rest. I
will see you to-morrow at Highgate, lady fair, and tell you more when
all is arranged. Now, hie you home; for it is growing dark, and you
are too pretty a flower to bear the night air."
"I will go with you, Ida," said the old Knight.
"I have one of the men with me," answered Ida Mara; "and have but to
go down to the water-side. Have I anything else to tell the lady?"
"Nothing at present," replied Markham; "to-morrow I will visit you, as
I have said, in some shape or other; and if you should have occasion
to write, let it be in your native tongue; I shall understand you. We
will see you safe, till you have rejoined your companion. Go on, and
we will follow."
Thus saying, he opened the door of his room; and Ida Mara, descending
the stairs, with a quick pace, walked on to the spot where Arabella's
servant stood near the shop at which she had left him; Sir Harry West
and Markham keeping at the distance of a step or two behind. The old
Knight, however, was not satisfied, even when he saw her under the
protection of a single attendant; and still, accompanied by Markham,
continued to follow her.
At the end of the second street, he had occasion to be glad that he
did so, for by the small portion of light that was remaining, he saw a
very extravagantly dressed personage, with black hair and beard, take
hold of Ida Mara by the arm, while a stout man, who was with him,
thrust himself in between her and her attendant, seemingly inclined to
pick a quarrel with the latter.
"Ah! my dear; have I found you at last?" cried the man with the black
beard.
"What, in Satan's name, are you running over me for?" said his
companion, taking Arabella's servant by the throat.
"I will soon show you," answered the man, drawing his sword; while Ida
Mara struggled to disengage herself from the grasp of the other, who
only laughed, and exclaimed, "Ah! you cannot get away now!"
But just at that moment, Markham ran up to take part with Arabella's
servant, and Sir Harry West, who was still a powerful man for his time
of life, seized the fellow by the collar, who had got hold of his fair
protegée, and by one pull, with a kick against the bend of the knees
behind, laid him upon his back on the pavement. The man hallooed
piteously; but the Knight merely spurned him with his foot, saying,
"Get up, impostor, and be gone. I know thee."
It is probable that the old Knight would not have suffered him to
escape without further chastisement, had he not been afraid of
bringing a crowd about the party, which might have proved
inconvenient; and worthy Doctor Foreman, for he it was who had been
thus overthrown, scrambled upon his feet again, showing but little
inclination to bluster.
"Come away, come away," he cried, to the man who was with him, and
then took two or three steps towards the corner of another street.
Before he reached it, however, he turned, and exclaimed, with a
significant gesture of the hand, "I will have my day!"
"To be hanged," replied Sir Harry West; and seeing that the other man
was beating his retreat also, the old Knight took Ida Mara by the arm,
saying, "Come, my dear, I will see you safe to the boat." He
accordingly led her on to the water-side, and did not leave her till
she was safely embarked upon the Thames. Sir Harry then returned with
Markham to his lodging, more completely to define their plan of
operations, and to commence the carrying of them into effect at once.
In the meanwhile, Ida Mara returned to the house of Sir Thomas Parry,
from which her absence had passed unobserved, and bore with her some
hope of consolation to poor Arabella, who had given herself up to
despair at the prospect of being removed to such a distance from her
husband. She still remained so ill and weak, however, that the worthy
Knight who held her in his custody, judged it expedient to intimate to
the King, that it would be dangerous to force a long journey upon her
in her situation at the time.
The reply of the King was as cold and unfeeling as might be. He
believed she was feigning, he said; but that, at all events, she must
be removed to Highgate, where his physician should visit her.
Accordingly, on the following morning, she was placed in a litter, and
carried to a house pleasantly situated at a short distance from the
village, where she was received with much kindness by the master and
mistress of the mansion. Two of the King's physicians were already in
waiting, and Mr. Conyers, into whose charge she was now given, in
energetic language, pointed out to them the absolute necessity of
allowing the lady time to recover, before it was attempted to remove
her farther.
"If you suffer her, gentlemen," he said, "to undertake a journey in
her present state, and before she has completely regained her health,
her death be upon your heads; for you must see that she is totally
incapable of supporting it."
The physicians agreed to the justice of his remarks, and drew up their
report accordingly; assuring her, that she should be suffered to
remain for a week, at least, where she then was. As soon as they were
gone, Arabella thanked her host gently and sweetly for the kindness he
had shown her.
"Nay, dear lady," he answered, kissing her hand; "I and my good wife
are interested in the matter, for we shall thus retain you longer with
us; and we propose to ourselves the pleasure of comforting and
soothing you, which we do not estimate as a slight grace. For a few
days, perhaps, we shall be obliged to have the appearance of strict
gaolers; but, as we are not such by nature, we shall, I doubt not,
obtain permission to relax, especially if you would, when visited by
any of the King's officers, assume the appearance of being somewhat
reconciled to your situation, and submissive to the will of the King."
The brutal and ungentlemanly reply of James, when the physicians made
their report, is well known; but they adhered honestly to their
remonstrance against any attempt to move the lady to Durham for some
time; and when, on the following day, one of them visited her, he
brought her the glad tidings, that she was to remain at Highgate for a
month.
We must notice, however, before we proceed, an event which took place
on the day of Arabella's arrival at the house of Mr. Conyers.
After the hint which had been given by Markham, it may easily be
supposed Ida Mara was frequently on the watch during the day for his
promised visit; but the situation of the mansion, which was one
surrounded on all sides by extensive grounds, enclosed within high
brick walls, rendered any communication with those without extremely
difficult. At length, however, towards evening, she perceived, from
the window of her mistress's chamber, a man bearing a bundle on his
shoulder. He was apparently a porter, and seemed considerably advanced
in life, walking with slow steps, and bending under his load. When
half way along the gravel walk, which ran from the gates to the house,
he paused, laid down the packet, and wiped his brow.
"Lady, lady!" cried Ida Mara, addressing her mistress, who was lying
down to take some repose, "here is somebody coming whom I think I
know--I will run down and meet him."
"Be careful, be careful, Ida!" said Arabella; "if they were to
discover you, and drive you from me, what should I do?"
"Something must be risked, dear lady," answered her attendant. "I am
sure that is our friend." And away she went, with a light step, down
the stairs, and out by a side door. Knowing that she might be seen
from the windows, she walked slowly and deliberately along the path,
till she reached the spot where Markham stood with his bundle.
"What news?" she said, pausing beside him. "All is going on right," he
replied; "a ship is hired, and will be ready in a few days. 'Tis a
French vessel taking in a cargo, and may be known by the flag. It will
be at Leigh; but, in the meantime, let the lady know that friends,
with horses ready for her service, are always to be found at a small
inn, called the 'Rose,' on the road from this place to Newington."
"What have you got there?" asked Ida Mara. "Some woman's apparel at
the top," answered Markham, "sent by the Countess of Hertford; but,
underneath, there is a disguise for the lady, in case of need."
"Will they not open it at the house?" inquired Ida.
"No, no!" replied Markham; "the man's dress is so folded up that they
cannot see it, without cutting open the cloth it is wrapped in. But
here comes somebody from the house; have you any tidings to give me?"
"Not as yet," rejoined the pretty Italian, in haste; "when I have, I
will send it to the Rose."
"That will do, that will do," replied Markham. "Now, remember, I have
asked you if the Lady Arabella is here? That I have come with these
things from Sir Thomas Parry's, where they have been left by mistake.
You may pay me something for my labour if you will, for I am to be a
porter, you know."
"How much do you charge?" asked Ida Mara, with a smile, taking out her
purse.
"Not less than half-a-crown, Madam," answered her companion, as Mr.
Conyers approached; "remember, it is a long way."
"Oh, that is too much," said Ida, "for carrying such a package as
this--it is very light;" and she lifted it with her hand.
"Not so light, to bring seven miles, mistress," rejoined Markham,
acting his part with skill, acquired by long practice. "Ask this
gentleman if I charge too much."
"What is the matter?" demanded Mr. Conyers, coming up.
"He asks half-a-crown, sir," said Ida Mara, turning round, "for
carrying this parcel hither from Lambeth, where it was forgotten this
morning."
"You had better give it him," replied Mr. Conyers, smiling; "it is a
long way."
The fair Italian put the half-crown into Markham's hand, saying,
"Well, take it up to the house, then. I will come after you, and carry
it up to the lady's room."
"Stay a moment," said Mr. Conyers, as she was about to follow the
seeming porter, who took up the package and walked on; "a word with
you, pretty one. Remember, when you wish to speak with any of your
friends, it must be outside the wall. I have no orders to keep you
within--but nobody, except persons to myself, must for the future pass
the gates."
His tone, though not unkind, was grave and significant; and Ida Mara,
thinking it better to make no reply, merely bowed her head and
withdrew, following her confederate quickly, and taking his burden
from him at the door.
She watched him as he returned towards the gates, to which the master
of the mansion had bent his steps after leaving her, and from which he
was now coming back.
Mr. Conyers, however, passed the pretended porter without stopping,
and Ida Mara hurried with the packet up to her mistress's chamber. As
soon as she was there, she opened it, and, from the bottom, drew forth
a bundle sewed up in a linen cloth, which she instantly deposited in a
closet, and locked the door.
"What have you there, Ida?" asked Arabella. "A disguise for you, dear
lady," replied the faithful girl, in a whisper, approaching close to
her mistress's bedside. "I know not what it is, but we will not open
it to-night."
She had scarcely done speaking, when an elderly woman, an attendant of
Mrs. Conyers, tapped at the door and entered, asking if she could be
of any assistance.
"Yes, Mrs. Maude," replied Ida; "if you will help me to lay out these
things, which seem to have been somewhat tumbled in coming, I will
thank you;" and, aided by the maid, she took all the articles of
apparel sent by Lady Hertford out of the package, one by one,
spreading them forth with great care, though Arabella, who had never
employed her in any menial capacity since her act of devotion in
nursing Sir Harry West through the plague, told her it would be better
for her to send for the maid, Helen, to perform that office.
The servant of Mrs. Conyers, however, was for the time completely
deceived; and, on retiring, informed her mistress, who had sent her to
the lady's chamber, that there was nothing in the package which she
had seen brought to the house but ordinary clothing.
Good Mrs. Conyers was not a harsh or unkind personage, but she was one
who possessed few very gentle feelings; and those that she did possess
were so well sheltered by a considerable share of selfishness, that it
was somewhat difficult to get at them. She was of a prying
disposition, too; but it fortunately happened that, as is frequently
the case with persons of her character, the mind was as obtuse as the
feelings; and with every inclination to act the gaoler and the spy
upon the fair prisoner, she had not the wit to execute the task
effectually.