Wilton Brown, on quitting the King, did not find Lord Sherbrooke
where he expected; but little doubting that he should have to
encounter a full torrent of wrath from the Earl of Byerdale, on
account of his having concealed the fact of the Duke of Berwick's
visit to England, he set spurs to his horse to meet the storm at
once, and proceeded as rapidly as possible to the Earl's office at
Whitehall. His expectations were destined to be disappointed,
however. Lord Byerdale was all smiles, although as yet he knew
nothing more than the simple fact that Captain Churchill had
acknowledged his presence at a scene in which he had certainly played
no part. His whole wrath seemed to turn upon Arden, the Messenger,
against whom he vowed and afterwards executed, signal vengeance,
prosecuting him for various acts of neglect in points of duty, and
for some small peculations which the man had committed, till he
reduced him to beggary and a miserable death.
He received Wilton, however, without a word of censure; listened to
all that passed between him and the King, appeared delighted with the
result; and although, to tell the truth, Wilton had no excuse to
offer for not having communicated the facts to him before, which he
had abstained from doing simply from utter want of confidence in the
Earl, yet his lordship found an excuse himself, saying,--
"I'm sure, Wilton, I am more obliged to you even than the King must
be, for not implicating me in your secret at all. I should not have
known how to have acted in the least. It would have placed me in the
most embarrassing situation that it is possible to conceive, and by
taking the responsibility on yourself you have spared me, and, as you
see, done your self no harm."
Wilton was puzzled; and though he certainly was not a suspicious man,
he could not help doubting the perfect sincerity of the noble lord.
All his civility, all his kindness, which was so unlike his character
in general, but made his secretary doubt the more, and the more
firmly resolve to watch his conduct accurately.
A few days after the events which we have just related, the Duke of
Gaveston and Lady Laura left Beaufort House for the Earl's seat in
Hampshire, which Lord Aylesbury had pointed out as the best suited to
the occasion. It was painful for Wilton to part from Laura; but yet
he could not divest his mind of the idea that Lord Byerdale did not
mean altogether so kindly by the Duke as he professed to do, and he
was not sorry the latter nobleman, now that he could do so without
giving the slightest handle to suspicion, should follow the advice of
Lord Aylesbury.
By this time Wilton had become really attached to the Duke; the
kindness that nobleman had shown to him; the confidence he had placed
in him; the leaning to his opinions which he had always displayed,
would naturally have excited kindly and affectionate feelings in such
a heart as Wilton's, even had the Duke not been the father of her he
loved best on earth. But in the relative situation in which they now
stood, he had gradually grown more and more attached to the old
nobleman, and perhaps even the very weaknesses of his character made
Wilton feel more like a son towards him.
To insure, therefore, his absence from scenes of political strife, to
guard against his meddling with transactions which he was unfitted to
guide, was a great satisfaction to Wilton, and a compensation for the
loss of Laura's daily society. Another compensation, also, was found
in a general invitation to come down whenever it was possible to
Somersbury Court, and a pressing request, that at all events he would
spend the Sunday of every week at that place. In regard to all his
affairs in London, and more especially to everything that concerned
Sir John Fenwick and the conspiracy, the Duke trusted implicitly to
Wilton; and the constant correspondence which was thus likely to take
place afforded him also the means of hearing continually of Laura.
He was not long without seeing her again, however; for it was evident
that Lord Byerdale had determined to give his secretary every sort of
opportunity of pursuing his suit with the daughter of the Duke.
"Did you not tell me, Wilton," he said one day, "that your good
friend the Duke of Gaveston had invited you to come down and stay
with him at Somersbury?"
"He has invited me repeatedly, my lord," replied Wilton, "and in a
letter I received yesterday, pressed his request again; but seeing
you so overwhelmed with business, I did not like to be absent for any
length of time. I should have gone down, indeed, as I had promised,
on Saturday last, to have come up on Monday morning again; but if you
remember, on Saturday you were occupied till nearly twelve at night
with all this business of Cook."
"Who, by the way, you see, Wilton, has said nothing against your
friend," said the Earl.
"So I see, indeed, my lord," replied Wilton. "What will be done with
the man?"
"Oh, we shall keep the matter over his head," said the Earl, "and
make use of him as an evidence. But to return to your visit to the
Duke--I can very well spare you for the next week, if you like to go
down on Monday; and now that I know your arrangements, will contrive
that you shall always have your Saturday evenings and Monday
mornings, so as to be able to go down and return on those days, till
you become his grace's son-in-law, though I am afraid fair Lady Laura
will think you but a cold lover."
Wilton smiled, well knowing that there was no such danger. The
Earl's offer, however, was too tempting to be resisted, and
accordingly he lost no time in bearing down, in person, to Somersbury
Court the happy intelligence that Cook, who was to be the conspirator
most feared, it seemed, had said nothing at his trial to inculpate
the Duke.
His journey, as was not uncommon in those days, was performed on
horseback with a servant charged with his valise behind him, and it
was late in the day before he reached Somersbury; but it was a bright
evening in May; the world was all clad in young green; the calm rich
purple of the sunset spread over the whole scene; and as Wilton rode
down a winding yellow road, amidst rich woods and gentle slopes of
land, into the fine old park that surrounded the mansion, he could
see enough to show him that all the picturesque beauty, which was far
more congenial to his heart and his feelings than even the finest
works of art, was there in store for him on the morrow.
On his arrival, he found the Duke delighted to receive him, though
somewhat suffering from a slight attack of gout. He was more
delighted still, however, when he heard the news his young friend
brought; and when, after a few moments, Laura joined him and the
Duke, her eyes sparkled with double brightness, both from the
feelings of her own heart at meeting again the man she loved best on
earth, and from the pleasure that she saw on her father's
countenance, which told her in a moment that all the news Wilton had
brought was favourable.
The result to the Duke, however, was not so satisfactory as it might
have been. In the joy of his heart he gave way somewhat more to his
appetite at supper than was prudent, ate all those things that Sir
George Millington, his good physician, forbade him to eat, and drank
two or three glasses of wine more than his usual portion. At the
time, all this seemed to do him no harm, and he spoke somewhat
crossly to his own servant who reminded him of the physician's
regulations. He even shook his finger playfully at Laura for her
grave looks upon the occasion, and during the rest of the evening was
as gay as gay could be. The consequence, however, was, that about a
quarter of an hour after Wilton had descended to the breakfast-room
on the following morning, Laura came down alone.
"I am sorry to say, Wilton," she said, with a slight smile, "that my
dear father has greatly increased his pain by exceeding a little last
night. He has scarcely slept at all, I find, and begs you will excuse
him till dinner-time. He leaves me to entertain you, Wilton. Do you
think I can do it?"
Wilton's answer was easily found; and Laura passed the whole morning
with him alone.
Certainly neither of the two would have purchased the pleasure at the
expense of the Duke's suffering; but yet that pleasure of being alone
together was, indeed, intense and bright. They were both very young,
both fitted for high enjoyment, both loving as ardently and deeply as
it is possible for human beings to love. Through the rich and
beautiful woods of the park, over the sunny lawns and grassy
savannas--where the wild deer, nested in the tall fern, raising its
dark eyes and antlered head to gaze above the feathery green at the
passers by--Wilton and Laura wandered on, pouring forth the tale of
affection into each other's hearts, gazing in each other's eyes, and
seeming, through that clear window lighted up with life, to see into
the deepest chambers of each other's bosom, and there behold a
treasury of joy and mutual tenderness for years to come.
In the midst of that beautiful scene their love seemed in its proper
place--everything appeared to harmonize with it--whereas, in the
crowded city, all had jarred. Here the voices of the birds poured
forth the sweetest harmony upon their ear as they went by; everything
that the eye rested upon spoke softness, and peace, and beauty, and
happy days; everything refreshed the sight and made the bosom expand;
everything breathed of joy or imaged tranquillity.
The words, too, the words of affection, seemed more easily to find
utterance; all the objects around suggested that imagery which
passion, and tenderness, and imagination, can revel in at ease; the
fanciful clouds, as they flitted over the sky, the waving branches of
the woods, the gay sparkling of the bright stream, the wide-extending
prospect here and there, with the hills, only appearing warmer and
more glowing still, as the eye traced them into the distance--all
furnished to fancy some new means of shadowing forth bright hopes,
and wishes, and purposes. Each was an enthusiastic admirer of nature;
each had often and often stood, and pondered and gazed, and admired
scenes of similar loveliness; each, too, had felt deep and ardent
affection for the other in other places; and each had believed that
nothing could exceed the joy that they experienced in their
occasional solitary interviews; but neither had ever before known the
same sensations of delight in the beautiful aspect of unrivalled
nature, neither had tasted the joy which two hearts that love each
other can feel in pouring forth their thoughts together in scenes
that both are worthy to admire.
Nature had acquired tenfold charms to their eyes; and the secret of
it was, that the spirit of love within their hearts pervaded and
brightened it all. Love itself seemed to have gained an intensity and
brightness in those scenes that it had never known before, because
the great spirit of nature, the inspiring, the expanding genius of
the scene, answered the spirit within their hearts, and seemed to
witness and applaud their affection.
Oh, how happily the hours went by in those sweet words and caresses,
innocent but dear! oh, how glad, how unlike the world's joys in
general, were the feelings in each of those young hearts, while they
wandered on alone, with none but love and nature for their companions
on the way! On that first day, at least to Laura, the feeling was
altogether overpowering: she might have had a faint and misty dream
that such things could exist, but nothing more; but now that she felt
them, they seemed to absorb every other sensation for the time, to
make her heart beat as it had never beat before, to cast her thoughts
into strange but bright confusion, so that when she returned with
Wilton, and found that her father had come down, she ran to her own
room, to pause for a few moments, and to collect her ideas into some
sort of order once more.
Day after day, during Wilton's stay, the same bright round of happy
hours succeeded. During the whole of the first part of his sojourn,
the Duke was unable to go out, and Wilton and Lady Laura were left
very much alone. Wilton felt no hesitation in regard to his conduct.
He could not believe, he scarcely even feared, that the Duke was
blind to the mutual love which existed between Laura and himself; and
he only waited till his own fate was cleared up, to speak to her
father upon the subject openly.
Thus passed his visit; and we could pause upon it long, could paint
many a scene of sweet and sunshiny happiness, warm, and soft, and
beautiful, like the pictures of Claude de Lorraine: but we have other
things to do, and scenes far less joyous to dwell upon. The time of
his stay at length expired, and of course seemed all the more brief
for being happy.
If the sojourn of Wilton at Somersbury Court had given pleasure to
Laura, it gave scarcely less to the Duke himself, though in a
different way; and when his young visitor was gone, he felt a want
and a vacancy which made the days seem tedious. Thus, shortly after
Wilton's arrival in town, he received a letter from the Duke, begging
him not to forget his promise of another speedy visit of longer
duration, nor neglect the opportunity of each week's close to spend
at least one day with him and Laura. The origin of these feelings
towards his young friend was certainly to be traced to the somewhat
forced confidence which he had been obliged to place in him, in
regard to Sir John Fenwick; but the feelings survived the cause; and
during six weeks which followed, although Sir John Fenwick was
universally supposed to have made his escape from England, and the
Duke felt himself quite safe, Wilton experienced no change of manner,
but was greeted with gladness and smiles whenever he presented
himself.
On every occasion, too, the Earl of Byerdale showed himself as kind
as it was possible for him to be; and in one instance, in the middle
of the year, spoke to him more seriously than usual, in regard to his
marriage with Lady Laura. The tone he took was considerate and
thoughtful, and Wilton found that he could no longer give a vague
reply upon the subject.
"I need not say to your lordship," he said, "how grateful I feel to
you in this business; but I really can tell you no more than you see.
I am received by the Duke and Lady Laura, upon all occasions, with
the greatest kindness and every testimony of regard. I am received,
indeed, when no one else is received, and I have every reason to
believe that the Duke regards me almost as a son; but of course I
cannot presume, so long as I can give no information of who I am,
what is my family, what are the circumstances and history of my
birth, to seek the Duke's approbation to my marriage with his
daughter. Fortuneless and portionless as I must be, the proposal may
seem presumptuous enough at any time; and though the legend told us,
my lord, to 'be bold, and bold, and everywhere be bold,' it told us
also to 'be not too bold.'"
"You are right, you are right, Wilton," replied the Earl. "But leave
it to me: I myself will write to the Duke upon the subject, and doubt
not shall find means to satisfy him, though I cannot flatter you,
Wilton--and I tell you so at once--I cannot flatter you with the
idea of any unexpected wealth. Your blood is your only possession;
but that is enough. I will write myself in a few days."
"I trust, my lord, you will not do so immediately," replied Wilton.
"You were kind enough to promise me explanations regarding my birth.
Others have done so, too." (The Earl started.) "Lord Sunbury,"
continued Wilton, "promised me the same explanation, and to give me
the papers which he possesses regarding me, even before the present
period; but he returns in September or October, and then they will of
course be mine."
"Ha!" said the Earl, musing. "Ha! does he? But why does he not send
you over the papers? he is no farther off than Paris now; for I know
he obtained a passport the other day, and promised to look into the
negotiations which are going on for peace."
"I fancy, my lord," replied Wilton, "that in the distracted state of
both countries he fears to send over the papers by any ordinary
messenger."
"Oh, but from time to time there are council messengers," replied the
Earl. "There is not a petit maitre in the whole land who does not
contrive, notwithstanding the war, to get over his embroidery from
France, nor any old lady to furnish herself with bon-bons."
"I suppose he thinks, too," replied Wilton, "that, as he is coming so
soon, it is scarcely worth while, and, perhaps, the papers may need
explanations from his own mouth."
"Ah! but the papers, the papers, are the most important," replied the
Earl, thoughtfully. "In September or October does he come? Well, I
will tell you all before that myself, Wilton. I thought I should
have been able to do it ere now; but there is one link in the chain
incomplete, and before I say anything, it must be rendered perfect.
However, things are happening every day which no one anticipates; and
though I do not expect the paper that I mentioned for a fortnight, it
may come to-morrow, perhaps."
About ten days after this period, Wilton, as he went to the house of
the Earl of Byerdale, remarked all those external signs and symptoms
of agitation amongst the people, which may always be seen more or
less by an observing eye, when any event of importance takes place in
a great city. They were, perhaps, more apparent than usual on the
present occasion; for in the short distance he had to go he saw two
hawkers of halfpenny sheets bawling down unintelligible tidings to
maids in the areas, and two or three groups gathered together in the
sunshiny morning at the corners of the streets.
When he reached the Earl's house, he found him more excited than he
usually suffered himself to be, and holding up a letter, he
exclaimed,--
"Here's an account of this great event of the day, which of course
you heard as you came here. This is a proof how things are brought
about unexpectedly. Not a man in England, statesman or mechanic,
could have imagined, for the last six weeks, that this dark,
cold-blooded plotter, Sir John Fenwick, had failed to effect his
escape."
"And has he not?" exclaimed Wilton, eagerly. "Is he in England? Has
he been found?"
"He has not escaped," replied the Earl, dryly. "He is in England; and
he is at the present moment safe in Newgate. Some spies or other
officers of the Duke of Shrewsbury discovered him lingering about in
Kent and Sussex, and he has since been apprehended, in attempting to
escape into France."
"This is indeed great intelligence," replied Wilton. "I suppose there
is no chance whatever of his being acquitted."
"None," answered the Earl; "none whatever, if they manage the matter
rightly, though he is more subtle than all the rest of the men put
together. It seems likely that the whole business will fall upon me,
and I shall see him in a few days; for he already talks of giving
information against great persons, on condition that his life be
spared."
Wilton concealed any curiosity he might feel as well as he could, and
went on with the usual occupations of the day, not remarking as
anything particular, that the Earl wrote a long and seemingly tedious
letter, and gave it to one of the porters, with orders to send it off
by a special messenger.
On going out afterwards, he found that the tidings of Sir John
Fenwick's arrest had spread over the whole town; and the rumour,
agitation, and anxiety which had been caused by the plot, and had
since subsided, was, for the time, revived with more activity than
ever. As no one, however, was mentioned in any of the rumours but Sir
John Fenwick himself, Wilton did not think it worth while to make the
mind of the Duke anxious upon the subject till he could obtain
farther information; and he therefore refrained from writing, as it
was now the middle of the week, and his visit was to be renewed on
the Saturday following. A day passed by without the matter being any
farther cleared up; but on the Friday, when Wilton visited the Earl
at his own house, he found him reading his letters with a very cloudy
brow, which however, grew brighter soon after he appeared.
Wilton found that some painful conversation must have taken place
between the Earl and his son; for Lord Sherbrooke was seated in the
opposite chair, with one of those listless and indifferent looks upon
his countenance which he often assumed during grave discussions, to
cover, perhaps, deeper matter within his own breast. The Earl, though
a little irritable, seemed not angry; and after he had concluded the
reading of his letters, he said, "I must answer all these tiresome
epistles myself, Wilton: for the good people who wrote them have so
contrived it, in order, I suppose, to spare you, and make me work
myself. I shall not need your aid to-day, then; and, indeed, I do not
see why you should not go down to Somersbury at once, if you like it;
only be up at an early hour on Monday morning.--Sherbrooke, I wish
you would take yourself away: it makes me angry to see you twisting
that paper up into a thousand forms like a mountebank at a fair."
"Dear papa," replied Lord Sherbrooke, in a childish tone, "you ought
to have given me something better to do, then. If you had taught me
an honest trade, I should not have been so given to making penny
whistles and cutting cockades out of foolscap paper. Nay, don't look
so black, and mutter, 'Fool's cap paper, indeed!' between your teeth.
I'll go, I'll go," and he accordingly quitted the room.
"Wilton," said the Earl, as soon as his son was gone, "I have one
word more to say to you. When you are down at Somersbury, lose not
your opportunity--confer with the Duke about your marriage at once.
The political sky is darkening. No one can tell what another hour may
bring. Now leave me."
Wilton obeyed, and passed through the ante-room into the hall. The
moment he appeared there, however, Lord Sherbrooke darted out of the
opposite room and caught him by the arm, almost overturning the fat
porter in the way.
"Come hither, Wilton," he said, "come hither. I want to speak to you
a moment. I want to show you a present that I've got for you."
Wilton followed him, and to his surprise found lying upon the table a
pair of handsome spurs, which Lord Sherbrooke instantly put in his
hand, saying, "There, Wilton! there. Use them to-night as you go to
Somersbury; and, amongst other pretty things that you may have to say
to the Duke, you may tell him that Sir John Fenwick has accused him
of high treason. My father is going to write to him this very night,
to ask him civilly to come up to town to confer with him on business
of importance. You yourself may be the bait to the trap, Wilton, for
aught I know. So to your horse's back and away, and have all your
plans settled with the Duke before the post arrives to-morrow
morning."
The earnestness of Sherbrooke's manner convinced his friend that what
he said was serious and true, and thanking him eagerly, he left him,
and again passed through the hall. Lord Byerdale was speaking at
that moment to the porter; but he did not appear to notice Wilton,
who passed on without pausing, sought his own lodgings with all
speed, mounted his horse, and set out for Somersbury.