“No Dart ever acted treacherously towards his Country,” went on
Roderick. He eyed a pasty favourably. “No Dart ever lied. Naturally I
believe you.”
Christopher got up and flung the window open.
“How close it is in here! Let me--recommend that--pasty, Dick. A little
more wine?”
“Thank you. Dear me, you fare well, Chris.”
“Yes,” said Christopher. He shut the window and glanced round the room.
“I fare well, as you say.” He smiled, but it was not a happy smile.
CHAPTER III
LA KEROUALLE
MY Lord Roxhythe escorted His Highness round the Privy Gardens. William
surveyed the scene interestedly.
“It is almost--Holland!” he said.
Roxhythe smiled.
“His Majesty is very proud of the garden. He copies the Dutch style as
you see.”
“It is very beautiful,” said William. “I am glad that you brought me
here.”
“I thought Your Highness would appreciate the place. Will you walk a
little? There are some very fine trees round the corner.”
“I should like to.” For the first time William looked at Roxhythe with
something of friendliness in his eyes.
“You gauged my tastes correctly, sir!”
“Why, I am satisfied then!” My lord led the Prince along the neat walk.
William touched his lips with his handkerchief.
“You have brought me here for a purpose, of course. I wonder ... can I
divine it?”
Roxhythe knew his man.
“I am quite sure you can, Sir. I pave the way for Danby.”
A smile flickered across William’s thin lips.
“The way needs paving?”
“They seem to think so. And Danby is so tactless.”
“Tact ... I am to be approached cautiously?”
They had come to an arbour. A stone seat presented itself to William’s
notice. He sat down.
“Highness, we have dealt with one another before. I have too high an
opinion of you to oil my tongue. Once I did so, and you routed me,
horse and foot.”
“This time you have a different message I take it. Well.”
“As Your Highness knows, I am to request you to marry the Lady Mary.”
William nodded. His eyes were fixed on a distant peacock.
“I need hardly say that the alliance will prove greatly to your
advantage, Sir.”
The hazel eyes rested on his face.
“Will prove...?”
“Why not, Sir?”
“You take too much for granted, milor’”
“No. Your Highness admitted that you knew my errand before I spoke. I
take it you knew before you came to England. And you are here.”
“I see. There is really nothing to be said, is there?”
“Nothing, Highness.”
William continued to watch the peacock.
“Tell me one thing, milor’. Of what Faith is the Princess?”
“Of your own, Sir.”
“Ah? That is the truth?”
“Why should I seek to deceive you? ’Twere to no purpose.”
William said nothing. The peacock strutted behind the tree.
“What does King Charles want of me?” asked William at length.
“Naught but this alliance, Sir.”
“No compact? no treaty?”
“None that Your Highness does not desire.”
“Always the smooth answer. There are no conditions attached to the
marriage?”
“None, Sir.”
“Then he hopes that I shall consider myself beholden unto him. Yet I do
not greatly desire the marriage.”
“King Charles considers it politic, Sir. Louis grows too arrogant.”
“And the English too uneasy. Am I to understand that my uncle seeks to
throw off the French yoke? Does he stand by me?”
“His Majesty has always wished to stand by you, Sir.”
The thin lips sneered.
“He blows hot and cold,” said William. “I have learnt how far he may be
trusted.”
Roxhythe snapped off a dried twig.
“Permit me to say, Highness, that you do not as yet understand my
master.”
William raised his eyes. There was a disconcerting gleam in their
depths.
“Milor’, if you think that you do not know me.”
Roxhythe bowed.
“Then I have still something to learn, Sir.”
“I think that you have many things to learn, milor’. Among them that it
is not wise never to act honestly by any man.”
“Highness, when have I acted dishonestly by you?”
William smiled sadly.
“Long ago, milor’, you came to me with an infamous proposal. I rejected
it. So you trafficked in the name of your master with the French King.
Later you came to me again, giving me lies and fair words. Again I
rejected your proposals. So once more you went to Louis. What faith
shall men have in you?”
My lord opened his comfit-box.
“Sir, it seems that you do not know me. Roxhythe cares for no man’s
opinion.”
“It’s very bravely spoken, milor’, but there comes a time in every
man’s life when the good opinion of others counts for much.”
My lord hesitated between a pink and a mauve sweetmeat. Finally he
chose the pink.
“I am conceited enough to think that I can stand alone, Sir.”
“You do not stand alone,” said William unexpectedly. “You have the King
behind you. But there will come a time when you will wish that you had
not destroyed all men’s faith in you.”
Roxhythe put away the comfit-box.
“Your Highness appears to have great knowledge of my affairs,” he said.
He was faintly amused.
“I do but know what everyone knows, milor’. You count no cost. You
ruined Falmouth for your pleasure; you thwarted Cavendish the same. You
tricked the Country Party some years ago. You have sacrificed all for
one man.”
“All?”
“Honour, friendship, loyalty. What will come of it, milor’?”
“It remains to be seen, Sir. I am surprised that you take such an
interest in one so debased.”
“Perhaps it is because I admire brain in any man. Perhaps because I
realize what you might be, milor’. In a good cause you were invaluable.
But you are inconsistent. Like the wind, you veer first one way in your
policy, and then the other. I know that you possess great influence
over my uncle. Yet you do not exert it in any way for the good. It is a
thousand pities. And they tell me you were a soldier.”
Roxhythe seemed to sigh.
“That is long, long ago, Highness.”
William did not answer. Down the gravel walk was coming the King with
the Duchess of Portsmouth on his arm. He was listening to something she
had to say, his dark head bent slightly over hers. Then he laughed and
patted her cheek. So they came to where the Prince was seated, Madame’s
fine eyes glowing with merriment.
William rose.
“I have admired your gardens, Sir. Milor’ Roxhyt’e showed them to me.”
The King cast a contented glance round.
“I am pleased that you like them, William. I was at pains to design
them after the Dutch fashion. You in Holland understand the art.”
“But no tulips!” said William, smiling.
“The season for them is over. We had a gay show in the spring. Has
Roxhythe shown you the little lake?”
“No, Sir. Not yet.”
“Oh, you must see that!” He bore his nephew off.
Roxhythe was left with the Duchess. She sat down in William’s lately
vacated seat. She was very beautiful to look on, framed by the roses in
the arbour.
“Milor’, sit down!” Always she spoke French with Roxhythe. “Yes. So
here is our little Prince.”
“Is it the first time you have seen him since he arrived, Madame?”
“No. But it is the first time that I have seen you since then. I have
had speech with Barillon.”
“Have you? I find that Barillon palls on one.”
“Assuredly!” The slow, fascinating smile dawned. “He is so worthy. And
he does not like to see the Prince in England.”
“If only he had told us sooner....” deplored Roxhythe.
“He is uneasy in his mind, _le pauvre_!”
“He usually is uneasy,” sighed my lord.
“Without cause, _hein_? But this time he has cause. He listens
with both ears to rumour.”
“How unwise!”
“Perhaps. He thinks the Prince has come to wed the Lady Mary.”
“And you?”
“Me, I think so too. I know more than _ce cher_ Barillon. It is
true, I am assured. The King has said as much. But what of King Louis?”
Roxhythe fixed a rose in her hair. Its soft gold tint harmonized with
her gown.
“You should always wear flowers, madame. So few women can.”
“Aha! _C’est joli?_”
“_C’est merveilleux._”
“Another here you think?” She touched her breast.
Roxhythe considered it.
“Yes. That is perfect.”
“Oh, for a mirror!” she sighed.
“You will never make me believe you have not one, madame.”
“Yes. You know us, _n’est ce pas_?” She regarded him gravely.
“I have had experience, you see,” said my lord.
“You know how to lead us away from the point; how to turn our minds
from main issues. _La-la!_ How weak is woman! But me, I am _la
Kéroualle_.”
“And I am--Roxhythe.”
“In fact we are well-matched. What of Louis?”
“It is a question you best can answer, madame.”
“I can answer, yes. When you have answered.”
“What is it you would have me say?”
“I would have you tell me what it is that Charles means to do.”
“Do you admit ignorance, madame?”
“Part ignorance, Roxhyt’e.”
“Then who am I to know more than you?”
“You have said--Roxhyt’e. You have the King’s whole confidence; I have
but half.”
“I had thought that what you lacked in plain speaking your wit would
have supplied.”
“Sometimes. And sometimes my surmises need confirmation. Will Charles
break faith with Louis?”
“Because of this marriage?”
She nodded, watching him.
“It seems a slender excuse,” said Roxhythe imperturbably.
“Does he require an excuse?”
“If Louis grew too arrogant he might be glad of one.”
“And if he does not?”
“Then the marriage is too slender an excuse.”
“So I thought. A warning.”
“A concession to uneasy Puritan spirits.”
“That also. I may take it that Charles wishes Louis no ill?”
“Madame, His Majesty is far too good-natured to wish any man ill.”
“Evasive. Well, milor’, one thing I will tell you: King Louis will be
furious at the marriage.”
“It is to be deplored.”
“I think he will not readily unite with Charles again.”
Roxhythe smiled.
“No?”
“No. And you, milor’: Louis thought you at one with him. He trusts
still to your influence. You said once that it would be exerted in his
favour. On which side do you stand?”
“On neither, madame.”
“That is bold, Roxhyt’e. You seek to offend King Louis?”
“By no means. I work for Charles. If another French alliance is
possible it has my support.”
“Safe words, Roxhyt’e. You are not privy to this marriage?”
“I am privy to nothing save my master’s interests.”
“Which do lie in France. Is that what you would have me understand?”
“You have said it, madame.”
“And I may say it to Louis? You work for him still?”
“Have I ever worked for him?” parried my lord.
“You have furthered France’s cause with your King. We have great faith
in your influence.”
“So it seems. You may tell King Louis that I am of the same mind as
ever.”
Madame bent her head to smell the rose at her breast.
“Which means that Charles is too. Well.”
“David, you have been charming Louise away from me!” cried a gay voice.
The King was coming towards them, the Prince at his side. “And who
arranged the rose in your hair, sweet?”
The Duchess lifted her face to his.
“You like it, Sir?”
“’Tis admirable. Roxhythe his work?”
“In truth he is a flatterer,” said madame. A smile trembled at the
corners of her mouth.
“A rogue,” amended Charles. “William, here be two rogues!”
“But one is too lovely for such a title,” said the Prince.
Madame’s eyelids fluttered in momentary surprise. She threw out her
hands.
“Now which of us does he mean?”
“Can there be doubt?” smiled William. But his eyes were hard.
“La-la! Your Highness will offend one of us! Now, which is it to be?”
“I’ll say that you are both beyond comparison. You make a well-matched
pair.” There was a glitter in the hazel eyes now. The thin lips still
smiled.
“Soho!” said madame, and nodded at Roxhythe. “What did I say?”
CHAPTER IV
THE MEETING
LADY Frances received the Darts very cordially. She succeeded in
captivating Roderick, no easy task, and he afterwards told his brother
that she was the most charming woman he had ever met.
Fanny was anxious to know how Christopher liked his new master. She
was much entertained by his description of Worth’s vagaries, and she
thought that Christopher must be recovering from his awful depression.
She realised, however, that his engagement with Worth would not last
long. She had never thought that it would, but it served to distract
his mind for the time.
Montgomery appeared for a few minutes, especially to see Christopher.
He, too, wanted to hear the boy’s opinion of Worth. They retired to a
couch together.
Lady Frances drew Roderick to the window-seat, a little apart.
“So you have not seen Chris for seven years, Mr. Dart? It is a long
time.”
“Too long,” said Roderick. “I wish I could induce him to come back to
Holland with me in the Prince his suite.”
“Oh!” Lady Frances nibbled her finger-tip. “I don’t think so. We cannot
spare him.”
Roderick hesitated. Then he leaned forward.
“Lady Frances, I know you have been very good to Chris. May I speak
plainly?”
“Please do!”
“Then, I can see that the boy is unhappy.”
“At present, yes. I think he will recover.”
“Not here. Forgive me if I am impertinent, but Roxhythe is too close.
He preys on Christopher’s mind. He should go away.”
Lady Frances was silent for a moment.
“Perhaps you are right. But I do not think that he will.”
“I am afraid not. In spite of himself he is clinging to Roxhythe. Lady
Frances, what has happened I do not know, but I can guess. It has
been a terrible blow to Chris. He must have cared for Roxhythe quite
absurdly.”
“He still cares for him. Roxhythe has the power to endear everyone to
him--when he chooses. Believe me, up till a short time ago, he has been
more than good to Christopher. It even surprised me who have known him
from the cradle. In his way he is very fond of Chris. But only in his
way.”
“Madame, he evidently treated him very badly at the end. Chris would
not have left him for a whim.”
“Oh, I agree! Roxhythe can be a devil. I warned your brother years ago.”
“And I. He was obstinate. And it has broken him.”
“Nonsense! He is young. He will recover.”
“It has broken his faith in mankind. No, do not shake your head, Lady
Frances, I speak of what I know. Christopher, before he entered that
man’s service, was the most innocent-minded youngster possible. He
believed in the goodness of man. Now he does not. He is bitter.”
“Oh no!” she protested. “Chris could not be.”
“Very faintly, I admit. But the bitterness is there. He has had a rude
awakening, and it has quite changed him. He will never again be the
same joyous Chris.”
“He is quieter, of course, and more repressed--”
“And less frank.”
“Oh--do you think so?”
“I am sure of it. He fences when I question him; he has become almost
impenetrable. Once I could read him like an open book.”
“You don’t make enough allowance for his increasing years, Mr. Dart.
Remember, when you last saw him he was growing up. Now he has grown.
The boy is a man.”
“It is not only that.” Roderick stared moodily across the room. “How I
wish that he had never met Roxhythe!”
“No. Roxhythe has matured him.”
“Matured him wrongly. He has given him the courtier’s manner, the
intriguer’s speech, the cynic’s heart.”
“Fiddle!” said Lady Frances emphatically. “Fiddle!”
Sir Jasper came towards them.
“I am very churlish,” he smiled. “But I must go. These are busy times,
Mr. Dart. Fanny, will you excuse me?”
“How tiresome of you!” sighed my lady. “I suppose I must.” She watched
him leave the room. “He is very hard-worked,” she said.
Private conversation with Roderick was at an end, so Lady Frances
induced him to recount some of his life abroad.
Christopher found that his brother could be quite interesting when
drawn out of his shell. In the middle of the recital the door was flung
open.
“The Most Noble the Marquis of Roxhythe!” announced the footman
portentously.
Roderick broke off. Lady Frances cast an agitated glance around.
“I do not receive,” she said.
The footman became flustered. It was evident that Roxhythe was close.
Christopher had risen. He was rather white, but quite composed. A small
pulse was throbbing in his throat.
A leisurely footfall sounded. My lord had followed the lackey. He came
into the room, typically languid.
The footman cast his mistress an apologetic glance, and vanished.
My lord bent over his cousin’s hand.
“My fair Frances, I felicitate you.”
“Why?” she asked, a trifle peevishly.
Roxhythe waved his hand to the blue hangings of the room.
“The admirable setting,” he answered. He bowed to Roderick. “Well met,
Mr. Dart.” Then he looked at Christopher, and smiled, holding out his
hand. “My dear Chris!”
Christopher went to him quickly. He carried my lord’s hand to his lips
and held it there for a moment.
“What a charming reunion!” remarked Roxhythe blandly. “I am come at a
lucky moment.”
Lady Frances fanned herself slowly.
“Pray sit down, David! You are so large.”
Roxhythe chose a high-backed chair with arms. He turned to Christopher.
“Tell me, Chris, how is your Worth?”
Christopher smiled. His heart was leaping within him, but an apathetic
calm seemed to have settled above it.
“He is a sore trial, sir. He asks me the same question three times
within the hour, and he is most unrestful.”
My lord was pained.
“Are you gibing at me, Chris?”
“I wonder!” said Christopher, and laughed.
Roxhythe turned to Roderick.
“Christopher long since discovered that it was my foible that I could
not have an unrestful companion. He has never ceased to poke fun at me
on that score.”
Roderick answered perfunctorily.
Lady Frances stopped fanning herself and entered into the conversation.
Presently Roderick looked across at his brother. He stood up.
“Oh--already?” asked her ladyship.
“We have trespassed too long,” said Christopher. “Why, we have been
here an hour!”
“You were not wont to be so polite,” pouted Fanny. “But I’ll not press
you to stay. Mr. Dart, I hope you will visit me again. You may bring
Chris!”
“You are very kind,” bowed Roderick. “I shall avail myself of that
permission.”
As Christopher bent over her hand Frances whispered hurriedly.
“I am sorry, Chris! Indeed, I had no idea--”
“Why it’s nothing,” he answered. “Sooner or later it had to be.” He
kissed her fingers again. Then he went to Roxhythe, who was talking
inanely to Roderick. “My lord--”
Roxhythe turned.
“Are you going, Chris? When do you intend to honour me?” The brown eyes
were almost pleading.
“Some day,” said Christopher. “Not--quite--yet.”
My lord’s fingers held his firmly.
“Don’t let it be too long, child. I miss you.”
The young mouth set tightly. Christopher did not look at him.
When they were gone, her ladyship looked straight into Roxhythe’s eyes.
“Are you a devil?” she asked, deadly quiet.
“I had not thought so, but what an amusing notion! Perhaps I am.”
“You knew that Chris was to be here to-day!”
“Did I?”
“I’ll vow you did! Or you found out of my footman. Why did you come?”
“I wanted to see him.”
“Why? To keep the wound open?”
“Perhaps.”
“I suppose you wish now that you had not destroyed his faith in you.
You want him back. I can tell you that he will never return to you.”
“Can you? We shall see.”
“I shall try to induce him to go away!”
“Certainly. I shall not worry myself unduly. I only wanted to see him.”
“Then it was hateful of you! You might have known that it would be
worse for him after seeing you! You are vile!”
“No. Only human.”
“Inhuman!”
Roxhythe laughed.
Lady Frances sank back against the cushions. She gave a tiny sigh.
“No. I suppose you are just Roxhythe.”
“A new species, my dear.”
“Sometimes so dear; mostly so cruel.”
“Fanny, you are morbid! Confess, you have a great kindness for me?”
“Alas, yes.”
“This is most harrowing,” said my lord. “Why alas? We have always been
very good friends.”
“I know. I have nothing personal against you. But, oh, David! leave
Christopher in peace! You have broken him; don’t try to make it worse.”
“It was not my intention.”
“It is what you are doing. You are trying to get him beneath your sway
again! You will not do it, but it is cruel!”
“Then if I shall not do it, why worry?” said my lord.
CHAPTER V
DISCORD
WHEN William of Orange was wedded to the Lady Mary, in November,
England rejoiced. On the eve of the wedding-day the streets of London
were packed with jubilant citizens who made bonfires, and cheered
lustily the King, the Lady Mary, and the Prince of Orange. They even
cheered, though faintly, the Duke of York, who having at last consented
to the marriage, was now putting a good face upon it. Enthusiasm,
therefore, waxed great. Protestant successors were ensured to the
throne, and the alliance undoubtedly pointed to a lasting split between
Charles and the hated Louis.
Amid the festivities there was one who rejoiced not at all. This one
was the French Ambassador, M. Barillon, who had received disquieting
tidings from his royal master concerning the marriage, and knew that he
was like to receive more. Nor was he mistaken in his conviction, for
when my Lord Danby set before Louis tentative proposals for peace with
the United Provinces, his Most Christian Majesty rejected them in no
mean terms. He was very angry, and he recalled the harassed M. Barillon
so soon as my Lord Danby showed signs of taking a firm stand against
France.
In his position as secretary to Worth, Christopher was closely in touch
with all these proceedings. His interest in them grew steadily. Through
bitter experience had he learnt to mistrust the King, and at first
he viewed Charles’ patriotic spasm with a sneer. But when supplies
were voted for an army to go into Holland against France, some of his
mistrust died. When troops were indeed sent to Holland, it faded almost
entirely. He threw himself into his work with renewed fervour, feeling
that at last he was working for the one incorruptible party.
Then came dissension, and he was puzzled. He was present at many
turbulent discussions, and he listened in growing amazement to my Lords
Russell and Roberts, who were of a sudden seized by a fear that the
troops were being raised, not for war on France, but for the King’s
private ends. Hot arguments ensued, some men denying the implication,
others defending it, and a few holding themselves neutral. Chaos
followed, and the nation, catching the panic which had spread from the
Country Party to the Commons, cried aloud to have the army disbanded.
It was then that Christopher discovered something that increased
tenfold the load on his mind. These men whom he deemed so upright were,
unwittingly or not, playing directly into the French King’s hands. Even
Lord Russell, patriot that he was, was communicating through Barillon
against the throne.
From his position as onlooker, Christopher saw clearly how Louis was
fanning the flame of mistrust for Charles in the Country Party. When
he realized that Louis and the Country Party were virtually in league
against England, he was at first staggered by the shock. That the
Country Party did not themselves realize this he fully acknowledged,
but the fact that they should descend to communication with an openly
enemy country against their own King filled him with sick disgust.
Another ideal was shattered and lay in the dust at his feet; once again
he had followed a path which he believed to be right, and which had
proved to be wrong.
He handed his resignation to Worth; he could not be implicated in such
negotiations.
Again he stood by himself, filled with a great loneliness, and an
overwhelming sense of his own puniness. Back came the old longings,
the old struggle. If only he could return to Roxhythe! Roxhythe, who
did not vacillate, who saw clearly, who worked calmly for one end.
After all, was not his the better part? The Country Party were no more
honest than was he, and they were dishonest not that they might the
more successfully serve a definite object. They wavered and played
false in their search for what Christopher was gradually coming to
think a vague ideal. They were divided against themselves; they knew no
set purpose; they were swayed this way and that. But Roxhythe knew no
wavering; he was unflurried; he stood firm.
In the face of his present difficulties and uncertainties Christopher’s
need of him was greater than ever it had been before. His whole soul
was yearning for Roxhythe; only his sense of right prevented him
from going back. Then came days and nights of unceasing struggle, of
hopeless unhappiness. Until now Christopher’s life had been placid and
well ordered, filled with a great love. All this had been torn suddenly
from him. Roxhythe had been his anchor; he had leant on him more than
he knew. Now the support was gone, and he stood alone. He had thought
to find peace with Worth, working for his country. That too was swept
away. Life seemed to him a giant discord; a mass of complexities and
unhappiness. There was no truth in mankind, only lust for power and
money.
Two words thrummed in his brain: my lord. How many times had he
repeated them, an ache in his throat, a mist before his eyes! To no
purpose. It was all at an end: the happiness, the trust, the blissful
years of companionship. Only the love remained, the love that nothing
could kill; and the memories, bitter-sweet. Nothing else was left....
At Court Charles was busy. Since Louis was angry, Louis must be
placated. He sent Roxhythe to Paris with assurances of good faith.
Roxhythe had a stormy interview with Louis. Louis plainly intimated
that he would have no dealings with my lord. He had learnt that
Roxhythe was without scruples; he had been informed that my lord had
furthered the royal marriage, even taken part in the negotiations; he
had trusted that my lord would exert all his influence to prevent it,
and to promote France’s interests; he had understood that my lord was
working for him in England; he now saw how empty were my lord’s fair
words.
His Majesty was most incensed. He strutted in his wrath. Roxhythe
remained as imperturbable as ever. He answered Louis smoothly. The
marriage was necessary; England’s fears had to be set at rest. To
which Louis replied that England’s fears might have been quelled in
some other way, less insulting to his Majestic Person. Roxhythe grew
more and more bored. His Majesty hardly understood the temper of the
English people. Majesty replied that one thing he understood passing
well, and that was the fickle temper of his cousin. Roxhythe became
patient. He assured Louis of King Charles’ unswerving loyalty to his
secret ally. Louis thereupon snapped his august fingers. He, Roxhythe,
still worked for a binding treaty with France; it had been beyond
his poor might to hinder the marriage negotiations. His Majesty had
over-rated his influence. But Majesty retorted that he had over-rated
the weight of his word. Roxhythe had done nothing in England to further
the French cause. He had spoken, years ago, of raising dissension in
the Commons over a possible marriage between William and Mary. Where
had been the dissension? Everything had run as smoothly as it could!
Roxhythe alluded gently to many dissensions raised in the past for
Louis. Louis flung back at him that he had sought to trick his Most
Christian Person into trusting him. He knew now that my lord played
into King Charles’ perfidious hands alone. Roxhythe was pained. His
Majesty grossly misunderstood his attitude--and his master’s. Louis was
a little mollified. He consented to listen to King Charles’ message.
But he would give no answer.
Roxhythe went back to England knowing that in France his day was done.
Charles was momentarily cast down by the news that his favourite had
not succeeded in his mission, but his cheery optimism soon came to the
fore, and once again he set his brains to work. Through Danby he wrote
to Louis, demanding a fresh pension in return for his good offices. Yet
another secret bargain was sealed. Charles withdrew his troops from
Holland on the understanding that Louis would make peace with that
country. But no sooner had the English army left the Dutch shores than
Louis culled a leaf from his faithless cousin’s book by taking back his
peace-offers. Whereat the irrepressible Charles was much amused, and
retired into the background to allow the foreign powers to fight out
their quarrel alone. He was not at all perturbed by the turn affairs
had taken, but rather pleased, as he was left with a large force at his
disposal, never having declared war at all.
And so at length the Peace was signed, without English intervention.
Mostly it was to Louis’ advantage, but on one point it thwarted him:
Holland remained inviolate. William had triumphed, if not wholly, at
least partially.
“So the little Orange wins!” said Charles. “That boy!”
“I told you he was a youth of parts, Sir,” answered Roxhythe placidly.
It was at this time that Christopher found a new master. My Lord
Shaftesbury came to him, offering him a post as secretary to himself.
He was but lately released from the Tower, and was burning with
indignation and a fierce hatred for the King.
Christopher entered his service willingly, almost joyfully. Ashley had
been his father’s friend; Ashley at least was honest. He settled down
to work for him with a quieter mind, feeling that in this patriot he
would find a friend as well as a master. His old resentment against
Ashley was nearly dead, for all that Ashley had said against Roxhythe
was true. Now they never spoke of my lord, for on the one occasion when
Ashley had mentioned his name slightingly Christopher was up in arms at
once. Not wishing again to alienate the young man from himself, Ashley
thereafter eschewed the subject.
For a time all went smoothly. Christopher had much work to do, but in
constant occupation he found mental relief, and he never grumbled at
the ever-increasing load thrust on to his weary shoulders. Then, like
a thunderbolt on the land, came the Titus Oates plot, and England was
once more plunged into a ferment. The tale of the coming insurrection
of the Catholics was swallowed avidly, although the King treated the
whole plot with contumely, and its exposers with stern disapproval. At
the best, the evidence brought forward by Oates and his confederates
was absurd, and provedly inaccurate. When the interest and incredulity
in the plot showed signs of waning, it was fanned to fresh flame by new
depositions, made by Oates, more gruesome and improbable than ever.
To Christopher’s surprise, Shaftesbury credited the tale, and went
into it thoroughly. Once Christopher expostulated with him, asking if
it could be possible that Ashley believed Oates’ lies. Ashley shot him
a side-long glance and answered that it was indeed possible. Then he
broke into an impassioned harangue against the Duke of York, who, he
was convinced, was at the head of the plot. Christopher, knowing that
his constant ill-health made Shaftesbury nervous and uncontrolled,
thought little of this outburst. He was sorry that his master should
be so led astray, but he trusted that in time he would return to his
senses. But soon it was forcibly brought home to him that Shaftesbury
was behind all the atrocities wreaked on the Catholics, and that it was
Shaftesbury who encouraged the mob’s lust for blood. His last doubts
were dispelled when he was set to work on a bill of Shaftesbury’s own
making, excluding all Catholics from a seat in either House. Dimly he
felt that this was but a stepping-stone to the exclusion of the Duke of
York from the throne, and although he himself dreaded a Papist King he
could not but feel aghast at Shaftesbury’s action in using such a means
to procure the exclusion. He began, slowly, to realize that Shaftesbury
believed in the truth of the plot no more than he did himself, but was
merely feigning belief the better to attain his own ends. Day after day
Catholic priests were infamously tried, and executed; every gaol was
full of so-called suspects. And the King moved neither one way nor the
other.
Shaftesbury’s bill passed both Houses, but in its chief object it
failed, as it exempted the Duke of York. Interest in the plot died down
again, and again Shaftesbury aroused it, this time by bringing forward
a fresh accomplice of Oates, who embellished the original tale with new
details, and even accused the Queen of being privy to the whole affair.
Charles was disdainful, but the Commons seized on the evidence eagerly.
Every Catholic in the realm was ordered to be arrested, and Father
Coleman, agent to the Duke of York, was executed.
Once more Christopher handed in his resignation. He gave my Lord
Shaftesbury very definite reasons. He realised that my lord was using
the plot as a furtherance for his own ends. He could not and would not
remain in the service of one who allowed, nay, encouraged the murder of
innocent men. He left Shaftesbury in heat.
There followed a series of executions that drove the blood cold in
Christopher’s veins.
In vain did the Jesuit Fathers plead innocence and total ignorance of
the plot. Their protestations were over-ruled, jibed at.
One Hill, employed at Somerset House, was tried, and in spite of all
evidence in his favour, condemned to death. Christopher had much to do
with this man when he had been in Roxhythe’s service. He had transacted
various small businesses for Christopher, and when he had been ill one
winter, Christopher had helped him pecuniarily. When the news of his
sentence reached Christopher he went at once to Bevan House.
Roxhythe chanced to be in, and Christopher was shown into the library.
My lord rose and held out his hands.
“Dear Chris!”
Christopher clasped them tightly.
“My lord, I have come on very urgent business!”
“So?” Roxhythe pressed him into a chair. “What is it?”
“Sir, do you remember Hill?”
“No,” said Roxhythe. “You’ll take some wine, Chris?”
“No, thank you, sir. Please listen to me! I mean the Hill who was
yesterday condemned to death.”
“Oh? Was there a Hill tried yesterday?”
“You must know, sir!”
“My dear boy, I do not interest myself in every little bourgeois who is
indiscreet.”
“Yet I beg you will interest yourself in this! Perhaps you remember
that silver filigree box that we procured with some difficulty?”
“Yes, I remember that. It was a remarkably fine box. I desired it for
His Majesty.”
“I thought you would remember. It was I who found it through the agency
of this Hill. Harcourt told me of him, and he got me the box from the
wretched Prance who has been questioned lately. Sir, it is this same
Hill who is to die. I would swear to his innocence! He was a poor meek
creature, not one who would murder a magistrate! This miserable Prance
has accused him of that. Will you not intervene on his behalf?”
“My dear Chris!” expostulated Roxhythe. “Do you expect me to meddle in
these low matters?”
“It is in the cause of justice, sir! of right! If you would speak to
His Majesty you could save him.”
“Maybe. But I certainly shall not worry the King.”
“My lord, my lord! Is it possible that you can see all these innocent
men foully done to death and not raise one finger to help?”
“Chris, Chris, you are mad! Why this sudden interest in Hill?”
“It is not so much the individual as the cause! Enough innocent men
have been murdered already! Why does the King allow it?”
“The King is not omnipotent, Chris. The public will not be content
unless some blood is shed. If he interferes they will turn on him. His
position is precarious.”
“So he allows these poor creatures to die without question!”
“What matter a few bourgeois?”
“My lord, don’t speak so! It--it is dreadful! That the King should act
thus!”
“My dear boy, the King dare not interfere. You must not think that he
does not look on all this bloodshed with horror. But he can do naught.”
“Then can you not exert your influence? It is so dastardly!”
“No doubt I could, but I certainly shall not. It is unwise to tamper
with the people’s will at this point.”
Christopher sprang up.
“You believe in these men’s innocence?”
“I have hardly noticed them. I daresay.”
“Then you are acting as I never thought it possible for you to act.
Timorously! Cruelly!”
“Did you come here to quarrel with me?” asked Roxhythe. “Sit down, and
talk of something else.”
“I came to implore you to help in the cause of right! I see I might as
well talk to a stone!”
“My good child, you excite yourself over nothing.”
“Was it nothing that Father Coleman was murdered? That good man!”
“It was necessary. The King deplored it, but the people would have it.”
“I suppose you advocated it?” said Christopher bitterly.
“Certainly. I thought you knew that nothing counts with me save His
Majesty’s safety and peace?”
“I--I cannot answer you, sir. Oh--oh, heaven, how I wish that I had
never set eyes on you!”
Roxhythe stretched out his hand.
“Chris, dear boy, you are demented. Calm yourself.”
Christopher ignored his hand.
“Then ’tis you have driven me so! You did your best to break my
heart--and now you reveal yourself to me--callous, ruthless! It--hurts
damnably, my lord.”
Roxhythe turned away. He said nothing.
“I--I can’t rest! I--oh, there’s no truth anywhere! no honour! I
thought Russell and Worth were irreproachable; I thought Shaftesbury
above suspicion! I was wrong, wrong, wrong! I’ve done with Englishmen!
Each works for his own ends and cares not what means he employs to
obtain them. Even you, my lord!”
“I suppose I should be grateful for the ‘even,’” said Roxhythe wearily.
Christopher went quickly to his side.
“Ah, no, sir! I--didn’t mean it! I am distraught--I--never meant to say
those things--to you. Forgive me!”
Roxhythe laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Chris, you are distraught because you are rudderless. Come back to me!”
“No--no! I cannot! Less than ever now. I--I think I shall go out of my
mind soon!”
“Chris, you were happy with me. Come back!”
“Ah, so happy! It could never be the same again. I must go--right away,
where I shall not see you.”
“Even though I beg you to stay?”
“Yes--even then, my lord. Don’t try to persuade me! It is hard enough
as it is.”
“So you’ll go away? Where?”
“Holland, sir. To join my brother, I think.”
“Orange,” said Roxhythe quietly. “That will be the end, Chris.”
“Yes, sir--the--end.”
“And all in search of--what?”
“In search of honesty and truth. I will not sacrifice my honour for
love of man.”
“So instead you’ll sacrifice your happiness for that vague thing called
patriotism?”
“I’ll find happiness in my patriotism!”
“You are like to be disappointed,” said Roxhythe.
CHAPTER VI
THE DECISION
CHRISTOPHER wrote to Roderick, advising him of his coming to the
Hague, and quickly made all his arrangements. Now that he had made his
decision he was almost glad to be going. He longed to leave England
behind him, and with it, all his uncertainties. Two days before his
departure he visited Lady Frances.
She received him in her drawing-room. She thought she had never seen
him look so old.
“Well, dear Chris?”
He sat down beside her, trying to smile.
“I have come to--say farewell, Lady Fanny.”
She sat very still.
“Ah ... Holland.”
“Yes, Holland. You understand that I cannot remain in London?”
“I suppose so,” she sighed. “Poor Chris!”
“Don’t--pity me! I can’t bear it. There’s no peace for me in England,
and no work. Always I think of Roxhythe, longing only to see him--to
hear his voice--feel his hand in mine--.” He stopped, biting his lip.
“I am sorry. I have no right to weary you with such--foolishness.”
She took both his hands.
“Chris, are we not friends? How could I be wearied? Won’t you--tell me
everything?”
“You are so kind,” said Christopher. “You’ve always been so
kind--I--oh, to be able to talk to someone!”
“I know. You won’t go back to Roxhythe?”
“I cannot. You know what happened. You have heard all the tales
concerning my lord. I should be acting falsely to all that I hold most
sacred if I gave way to my longing to be with him.”
Again she sighed.
“And he does not--care as I care. It is not to be expected. Lady
Fanny--I am not--complaining, but--I loved him so greatly! I trusted
him so! And he tricked me. It’s--all over. I’ve to forget it all. I’ve
to forget Roxhythe, and all that he meant to me. I must go right away,
where I shall not be so constantly reminded of him.”
She stroked his hand gently.
“So you are for Holland? Perhaps it is best after all. But I shall miss
you sadly, Chris.”
“Please--don’t speak of it! I’ve so loved your friendship! But I must
go.”
“I know you must, Chris. And I know how hard it is.”
“Hard!” he whispered. “It is--tearing my heart out of my body. I--” he
smiled crookedly. “I leave it--with him. I suppose I shall be at peace
again--one day. But I shall always remember these wonderful years--when
I was--so happy. I should--be grateful for them--for the memory of
them. Sometime I shall look back on it all calmly--but just now--I
daren’t let myself think!”
“Dear boy, I am sorry from the depths of my heart! But you are right;
this great, great ache will fade--you’ll only remember the happiness
and be glad that you were happy. And you’ll be happy again. You have
your brother.”
“Yes. He--doesn’t count, you know. I--never cared for him greatly,
and since I have been with--Roxhythe--he has had all my love. He
has it still. There will never be another in his place. I’m a weak
fool--but--oh, Lady Frances, I want him so much!”
She tugged at his bowed shoulders.
“Don’t, Chris! Ah, don’t! He’s not worth it! Oh, why, why did he catch
you in his net?”
“God knows. I don’t really regret it. He has been responsible for so
much that was wonderful in my life. And now--I hate all other masters.
I compare them, you see--and they don’t bear comparison. Roxhythe
was--I hardly know--incomparable.”
“He is just Roxhythe,” said Fanny sadly.
Christopher caught his breath in a half-sob, half laugh.
“‘I am Roxhythe’.... I can hear him say it--in that soft voice! So
haughtily! Yes, he is just Roxhythe.” He stood up, biting his lip. “I
leave the day after to-morrow, Lady Frances. You’ll not--quite forget
me?”
“Forget my Chris? Is it likely? One day you will come back. I am going
to wait till then. You won’t forget me, I hope?”
He kissed her hands.
“It were impossible. I shall never forget--all your kindness. You’ll
let me write to you?”
“You must write,” she said. “I should be so sad if you did not.”
“I can’t thank you enough--Good-bye, Lady Fanny!”
My lady put her hands on his shoulders and lifted her face.
“You may kiss me, Chris. My poor, poor, Chris!”
CHAPTER VII
THE REVENGE
IT was very cold. Outside a drizzling rain fell on the bleak gardens.
The gaunt tree branches were wet and shining. Charles sat by the fire
in his room, nursing a spaniel. His dark eyes were brooding, his
fingers restless.
“You heard what Danby had to say, David?”
Roxhythe was gazing out into the rain.
“Ay. Montague has been elected member for Northamptonshire.”
“Danby tells me they quarrelled some time ago. God’s life, why must he
quarrel with my French Ambassador of all people?”
“Does Danby think he means harm?”
“Ay. He spoke of incriminating documents. You know what that means,
Roxhythe.”
“Letters to Louis. I always said it was unwise.”
The King was peevish.
“If you had not fallen out of favour with Louis those letters need
never have gone through Montague. Now we shall have Danby impeached.”
“I think I see the hand of Shaftesbury. Montague is a tool.”
“Shaftesbury or others. He hates Danby most.”
“And Danby, being your tool, will turn on you.”
“Another tax on my ingenuity! Danby intends to strike at Montague
before Montague has time to strike at him.”
“Better still to dispose of Montague.”
“No, David! I have had enough blood.”
Roxhythe shrugged.
“How does Danby think to strike at Montague?”
“Some talk of Montague’s conferring with the Papists without my
knowledge. Danby plans to seize his papers.”
“Why, that is very well! He is to act in your name?”
“He says so. He is to inform the House of it to-morrow.”
There was a long silence. Presently the King turned his head.
“By the way, Davy, the Crewes are in town again.”
“Crewes?”
The King smiled faintly.
“Forgotten already? The man you fell afoul of two years ago.”
“That man! Yes, I remember. I told him to absent himself for a year.”
“Well, he has been gone for two. He dared to appear at Whitehall.”
“Oh? What did you say?”
“Remembering your request I said nothing. But it was gross presumption
on his part.”
“What of the wife?”
“She was there. I believe she has become most devoted.”
“I thought she would.” Roxhythe came to the fireplace. “King Louis hath
his revenge on me, Sir.”
Charles raised his heavy brows.
“Louis? Why?”
“He conceived that I had promised to act in his interests. He was
furious with me when you married the Lady Mary to the Prince.”
“A pity. What is his revenge?”
“I take it he has warned the Country Party against me.” Roxhythe smiled
rather wearily. “No longer can I intrigue privately.”
“It’s a plaguey nuisance. Faith, Louis is no gentleman to turn informer
in that fashion!”
“’Tis unkind of him, I admit. I am the less useful to you, Sir, in
consequence.”
Charles stretched out his hand quickly.
“Don’t speak like that, Davy! Always you are my dearest friend!”
Roxhythe went on his knee.
“Always,” he said, and kissed the King’s hand. “Always.”
* * * * *
Danby’s attack on Montague failed, for Montague carefully secreted the
two most important documents in his possession. One of them was the
letter written by Charles’ order before the Peace of Nimeguen. Backed
by the Treasurer’s bitterest enemies he brought charges against Danby.
Impeachment followed. There was fresh uproar in the House.
Danby narrowly escaped imprisonment, but the majority was small. Public
feeling was against him.
Then Charles prorogued his unruly Parliament, and in January, scarcely
a month after, dissolved it.
CHAPTER VIII
THE HAVEN
AFTER ten years Christopher returned to Holland. Much of it he had
forgotten, much brought back old memories, poignant in their nearness
to him. He had travelled from Harwich to Rotterdam, spending only a
night in that town. He visited 19, Prinsen Straat, hoping to see de
Staal again. It had been a shock to find the house in other hands and
to hear that de Staal had gone to his rest four years ago. He had
hardly realized how much he wanted to see the old man. He went away
with lagging steps, guided along that very road which they had walked
that evening, now so long ago. He visited the inn at which he had
stayed, and looked up at the window of his room. It was just the same.
Nothing seemed to have changed: not even the fat landlord.
Christopher wandered into the coffee-room. Here he had seen the spy who
had dogged their steps. He remembered, smiling a little, how excited he
had been, and how placid he had found Roxhythe. My lord had been dozing
in his chair; he had refused to be roused.
He tore himself away from the inn, knowing that it was foolishness to
have come. It was with relief that he left Rotterdam behind.
The Hague seemed yet more packed with memories. The Poisson d’Or had
changed no more than the inn at Rotterdam. Christopher looked up at
the window, almost expecting to see Roxhythe standing there with the
inevitable Milward at his elbow.
It was with an effort that he turned away. He had always remembered the
Hague as a cheerful, happy town. Now it seemed dark, forlorn, a place
of ghosts.
Roderick had grown kinder, and less harsh. He made no reference to
Roxhythe. He was unfeignedly glad to see Christopher again; he wanted
to present him to the Prince, but Christopher refused. Later he would
go to the Huis ten Bosch, but for the present he wanted to be quiet.
He bought a horse shortly after his arrival and one day rode out to
Scheveningen. The peaceful fishing-village took his fancy. Nearly every
day he rode there, sometimes talking to the fishermen, mostly sitting
by the sea alone, undisturbed by any uncouth sound, watching the
silver-backed gulls swirling and diving against the intense blue sky.
Slowly the ache within him died, already it was less acute. Sitting on
the shore, listening to the cry of the gulls and the continuous break
of the waves on the sand, all that had passed during the last year
seemed to fade away to a memory. It was no longer the never-ceasing
pain; it was still there; it was still a great sadness, but it had
softened and was not ever-present.
Bit by bit he began to take an interest in what went on around him. He
watched the fishermen draw in their hauls, interested in the slippery,
gleaming fish that floundered in the bottom of the net. Once he went
out in a boat, helping the fishermen. He grew stronger, more virile,
less morbid.
Roderick seldom accompanied him to Scheveningen. Christopher did not
wish it. His brother’s presence disturbed him, disturbed the great
peace of the village. He would spend all the day there, rejoicing in
the vast loneliness, feeling the rough spray on his face, and the
wind blowing strongly about him. At sundown he would ride back to the
Hague, tired and hungry. Sometimes he dined with Roderick, sometimes by
himself.
After a while he went less often to Scheveningen. Desire for company
was coming to life again. Roderick saw it, and introduced him to
Mynheer Heenvliet and various other members of the Prince’s household.
Other friends Christopher made for himself, all Dutchmen. One of these,
Jan Van den Busch, showed him some of the countryside. Christopher
visited Rijswijk and Loosduinen. It gave him a taste for sight-seeing,
and he went away for a time, travelling north. When he returned,
Roderick was surprised at the change in him. His eyes were brighter,
his bearing more brisk, his spirits lighter. His laugh still lacked
its old spontaneity, his smile was not so joyous, but it came more
often and less forcedly.
Roderick realized that Christopher had aged more in one year than in
all the others of his life. He had no youthful illusions, no youthful
impetuosity. He was calmer, more shrewd. He had a knowledge of men and
of the world. Roderick realized that in some ways Christopher was older
than he.
Once again he broached the question of an introduction to the Prince.
This time Christopher consented.
So one day the brothers rode out of the Hague through the wood that
led to the Huis ten Bosch. Christopher was rather silent for the most
part but when they reached the gardens of the palace he expressed his
admiration.
“His Highness will be pleased to hear that you like his flowers,” said
Roderick. “He takes great pride in them.”
“What does the Princess here?” asked Christopher suddenly. “I had not
thought that the solitude was congenial to her.”
“At first Her Highness conceived herself very homesick. She is
different now.”
“Poor Lady Mary! She was such a gay princess! She took such delight in
the life at Whitehall.”
Roderick spoke stiffly.
“There is no need to pity her. She is the Prince his wife.”
“Poor lady!” said Christopher again. “I do pity her.”
“Her Highness should be happy enough,” replied his brother. “She has
changed.”
The Prince was not in the house. One of the lackeys had seen him
walking in the gardens not long since. They found him at length on a
terrace, basking in the sunlight.
Roderick swept him a low bow.
“Highness, I have brought my brother. May I present him?” It was a
triumphant moment for him. At last Christopher had been brought face to
face with this Prince whom he had affected to despise. At last he could
show Christopher how wonderful was his master.
William turned. Christopher thought he had never met such a piercing
scrutiny. Then the Prince smiled and rose.
“I have long desired to make your acquaintance, Mr. Dart. Rodrigue has
often spoken to me of you.” He extended his hand.
Christopher went on one knee to kiss it.
“Your Highness is very kind,” he said.
“Christopher greatly admires the gardens, Sir,” said Roderick.
William looked pleased.
“They are beautiful!” said Christopher warmly. “I do indeed admire
them, Sir.”
“I love them,” answered the Prince. “I could not live without my
flowers.” He waved his hand towards a bed of tulips. “Those are my
flowers.”
Christopher smiled.
“Even we in England know which are your favourites, Sir!”
“So? They are my favourites because they are part of Holland. You do
not grow such flowers in England.”
“No,” said Christopher. “But we have our roses.”
“Yes, you have your roses. Rodrigue, he must be shown the west side!”
So the Prince of Orange showed Mr. Dart the west side of his gardens.
The visit to the Huis ten Bosch was the first of many. Christopher made
more friends in the Prince’s household, and the Princess desired his
acquaintance.
He hardly recognized the Lady Mary in the quiet, soberly dressed woman
to whom he was presented. The Mary he knew had sparkling eyes and a
roguish smile. The eyes were calm now, almost sad; the smile was full
of dignity. He thought that she seemed unhappy, and later he found that
there was a coldness between the Prince and his wife.
Mary was anxious to hear all the London news. More than once
Christopher saw her eyes fill, but the tears did not well over. He
could not tell her much, but she was grateful for very little. She
asked after various people, lingering over their names as over a
pleasant memory. Christopher pitied her from the bottom of his heart.
Desire for work was growing apace. The indolent life he was leading had
become irksome. Christopher realized that he must find some occupation.
The more he saw of William, the more convinced he was that he had found
one who was honest and a patriot. He watched the Stadtholder’s adroit
management of affairs with growing admiration.
Roderick was surprised that his brother did not fall at the Prince’s
feet, worshipping. He was still more surprised that Christopher should
feel no desire to become one of the Prince’s household. He could not
understand that all Christopher’s love remained with Roxhythe.
“You do not desire to be near the Prince his person?”
“I would rather join his army,” answered Christopher.
“Join the army! You had better enter his household.”
“I do not wish to serve any man--personally.”
“Odds life! Not even His Highness?”
“No one.”
Roderick stared.
“You are no soldier, Chris!”
“I can learn.”
“You were better advised to turn your hand to politics.”
“Never! I want not to hear the word again!”
“But that is ridiculous! Because you found Shaftesbury acting
questionably is no reason to think that----”
“I will not hear of politics. They mean intrigue and covert dealing;
bribing and tricking. I’ll none of it.”
Roderick shook his head in amazement. But he broached the subject to
his master.
Thus it came about that Christopher had audience with the Prince one
sunny morning at the Huis ten Bosch.
William sat at his desk, chin in hand. He regarded Christopher
thoughtfully for some moments.
“Rodrigue has been speaking to me of you, Mr. Dart. You desire to serve
under my standard?” He spoke in Dutch.
“If your Highness permits, I ask nothing better.”
Christopher saw the hazel eyes twinkle suddenly.
“Yet if I offer you a post about my person you will refuse it?”
There was something disconcerting about the Prince. Christopher
stammered a little.
“I hope--Your Highness--will not--offer that.”
“Sit down,” said William. “Why do you hope that?”
“Sir, I desire to serve no man personally. I want to serve as a
soldier.”
William smiled.
“You want to serve an ideal, _hein_?”
“Perhaps that is true, Sir. I do not want to serve--a man.”
“Are you afraid that I should betray your trust?”
The swiftness of the attack got behind Christopher’s guard.
“I--don’t understand, Sir.”
“I think you do. Am I the man to betray a trust?”
“No, Sir. Why do you ask?”
“Because I will not be served by any man who does not place in me his
whole confidence.”
Christopher hesitated.
“I believe that you at least are honest, Sir,” he said at last.
“But you will not accept a post about my person.”
Christopher grew hot under the steady scrutiny.
“No, Sir.”
“Why not?”
For a moment Christopher did not answer.
“Highness, if you must know, it is this:--For nine years I have served
my Lord Roxhythe. He has all my love, all my devotion. I cannot serve
another man in the same way. I have tried and failed. Twice failed.”
“Mr. Dart, you say that Roxhyt’e has your love and your devotion. What
then have you to offer me?”
“Faithful service, Sir, and loyalty.”
“So!” William tapped his fingers lightly on a sheet of parchment. His
face grew harsh. “We will have plain speaking, if you please, Mr. Dart.
I have some knowledge of milor’ Roxhyt’e’s life, and of his dealings.
How am I to know that you are not imbued with his morals--or lack of
morals?”
Christopher straightened.
“Highness, may we leave Roxhythe out of the discussion? I trust my
morals are above reproach.”
“I trust so, Mr. Dart. Yet in ’77 there was some question of that.”
“Will your Highness explain?”
“It is necessary? In ’77 you bore letters to Cherrywood; letters that
we believe to have been addressed to the French King from King Charles.
You will admit that gives food for thought, Mr. Dart.”
Christopher met his eyes bravely.
“I give Your Highness my word that if that was so I knew nothing of it
when I did take the letters. I thought them innocent dispatches to His
Grace of Monmouth.”
“So your brother assures me. He tells me you were tricked. It is
because you fear that I might trick you that you will not enter
my--personal--service?”
“N-no, Sir. I think not. It is because I could not serve you with
whole-hearted affection. It is true that I have grown suspicious of
late, but I believe that I do trust Your Highness.”
“Thank you. That is your only reason?”
Again Christopher hesitated.
“No, Sir, there is another. However honest you be there must always be
intrigue. I desire to know nothing of intrigue. I want to--be outside
all the inner workings of politics. I want to--forget everything.”
William coughed a little.
“Then I think you would be better advised to seek employment with
someone who lives not a public life.”
“I have thought of that, Sir, but it does not appeal to me.”
“In truth, Mr. Dart, you do not know what you want.”
“Indeed, Sir, I do! I want to fight France--our common enemy.”
“I do not fight France. There is peace.”
Christopher looked at him strangely.
“Your Highness will not always be content with this peace.”
William’s brows rose perceptibly.
“Oh! So you will join the army--and wait? Dull work, Mr. Dart.”
“I have yet to learn a soldier’s duties, Sir.”
The Prince tapped the parchment again.
“Well.... Perhaps I can find employment for you. We shall see.”
He took up a quill. For some moments he wrote swiftly. Then he dusted
the parchment and folded it.
“You are quite sure that you wish to serve the Orange? Remember that
you are an Englishman; remember that once you have entered the army you
cannot leave it at will.”
“I have considered all that, Sir. It is no hasty decision that I
have made. I have thought long, and--pardon me--I have observed Your
Highness closely. I believe that at last I have found a master who is
above bribes; who does not work for himself but for his country.”
William bowed.
“I admire plain speaking, sir. In my turn I believe that you too are
honest. I doubted it at one time, but when I was told that you had
quitted Lord Roxhyt’e I concluded that I was wrong.”
“Thank you, Sir. I may enter your service?”
William handed him the parchment.
“You will convey that to Bentinck. Rodrigue will direct you. Bentinck
will give you a commission, and it will remain for you to prove
yourself.”
Christopher went down on one knee.
“I will serve Your Highness faithfully,” he said. “I have to thank you
for your kindness.”
William held out his hand.
“That is very well,” he said.
Christopher went quietly out of the room. Roderick was awaiting him,
all eagerness.
“Well, Chris?”
“I am to go to General Bentinck.”
Roderick was disappointed.
“I had thought--that when you had spoken with His Highness--you would
have desired to be always at his side.”
Christopher smiled faintly.
“I am no longer twenty-one, Dick. The age of illusions is past.”
“Have you no enthusiasms?”
Christopher sighed.
“I hardly know. Perhaps. But not for man.”
“I don’t understand you, Chris. I had thought that the Prince would
have captured your devotion.”
“You have yet to realize, Dick, that my devotion lies elsewhere.”
“Still?” Roderick was incredulous.
“Always.”
“But after all that has happened! after his treatment of you----”
“If you think that any harm done to me could kill my love for Roxhythe,
you do not understand love.”
“You are infatuated! Pray heaven it will pass!”
“For my peace of mind I hope it will. You’ll dine with me to-night? I
shall leave the Hague early to-morrow.”
“As soon as that? Yes, I’ll dine with you. I wish you were to be of the
Household, though. I wanted you near me after all these years.”
Christopher spoke rather cynically.
“No, Roderick. You had been jealous of me an I had joined the Prince
his Household.”
“Really, Christopher!” Roderick was inclined to be offended. Then he
smiled. “Perhaps you are right. But I shall miss you.”
“It will pass,” replied Christopher easily.
Roderick went back to his master.
“Well, Rodrigue? You have seen your brother?”
“Yes, Sir. I cannot understand his attitude.”
“No?”
“He is so cold! so unlike his old self.”
“My dear Rodrigue, your brother has suffered. I understand him.”
“But then, Highness, you understand all men,” said Roderick softly.
BOOK V
THE OTHER PART
CHAPTER I
THE TRIPLE GAME
“TROUBLE, trouble, naught but trouble!” Charles flung out his hands
hopelessly. “Shaftesbury, Russell, Cavendish! What is to be done?”
Roxhythe smiled.
“Do you despair, Sir?”
“Do I ever despair? But this combination means endless toil, endless
dissension. Shaftesbury is mine enemy.”
“To counteract Shaftesbury you have Sunderland.”
“Whom I would not trust.”
“Nevertheless he may prove useful. And there is Halifax.”
“He blows hot and cold.”
“But mostly cold.”
“What do you mean, David?”
“I wonder that you have not observed Halifax more closely, Sir. When
the greater party blows hot, he blows cold. You’ll find him opposed to
Shaftesbury.”
“It may be so. You think he’ll support me?”
“If you are the losing side, Sir, yes. If you are the stronger he will
not matter.”
“True. But that will not help us now. I see trouble stirring for James.
The people wax unruly.”
“His Grace acts very imprudently. You would be wise to remove him, Sir.
While he remains in England the Protestant cause will keep fresh in
England’s mind.”
“Remove him ... ay, but where?”
“Does it signify? Send him where he cannot stir up agitation by his
foolish behaviour.”
Charles sat up.
“I believe you are right, David. I’ll send him to Brussels.”
“It will suffice. At least he will be out of harm’s way.”
“Yes. But I do not think he will thank me.”
“Perhaps not.”
“He’ll be greatly incensed. It may be that he will suspect your hand in
the matter.”
“Probably. It does not worry me.”
Charles stroked one of his dogs reflectively.
“Do you think that by doing this I shall avert the storm against his
succession? I do not.”
“No, Sir. You will modify it.”
“It will still mean a fight. Shaftesbury is determined to exclude him.”
“Sire, most men are determined. Nearly all your new ministers are at
one on the question. But I think that there will be dissension.”
“Why?”
“They will not all want the same successor.”
“You think some will stand for Monmouth?”
“I do expect it, Sir. Prince William is not every man’s choice.”
“No. And Monmouth is popular. He would be the people’s choice, but I
cannot believe that the Cabinet would consent to it.”
“We shall see. In the meantime, Sir, I propose to act.”
Charles leaned back in his chair.
“I were not King without you, Davy. You’ll help me to overthrow the
coming cry for exclusion?”
“I will.”
The King looked at him curiously for a moment.
“Roxhythe, what are your own sentiments?”
“I’ve none. I care not what happens after you are gone. England may
have James, or Mary, or Monmouth. It is all one to me. All that matters
is your pleasure.”
“I would I had more of your mind about me! What do you think of doing?”
Roxhythe sat down on the nearest chair.
“I shall throw myself into the cause against His Grace of York.
Secretly.”
The King’s brow contracted in bewilderment.
“Go on.”
“His Grace of York’s dislike for me is well known. That adds colour to
my attitude. I approach Shaftesbury when the time comes, with great
caution. I am a thought fearful of discovery, you understand. I think
that it were best for me to act secretly for fear of incurring Your
Majesty’s displeasure.”
“I do not think that they will trust you.”
“They will undoubtedly have misgivings. But my support in the matter
would be invaluable. They would count on my exerting my influence to
sway you ’gainst the Duke.”
“Ay, but what then?”
“When I have convinced the worthy Shaftesbury of my whole-hearted
sincerity I shall enter deep into the inner workings of the affair.”
“Which you will impart to me?”
“Which I shall impart to you. I think I may be instrumental in bringing
about the fall of our friend Ashley.”
“You are clever enough for anything,” admitted Charles. “But this is a
big risk.”
“No. They can but disbelieve in me, and I do not think they will do
that. They will see that if the Duke succeeds you I must fall. It is
the popular belief that I work primarily for my own ends.”
Charles nodded.
“If all this should come to James his ears you are ruined--when I die,
my David.”
“That matters not at all, Sir.”
“I might confide in James....”
“I beg you will not, Sir! He is so incautious. And he mistrusts me. He
would not believe that I was working in his interests.”
“I do not suppose he would. Especially if he guesses by whose advice he
is sent to Brussels.”
“He’ll guess that, of course. He suspects my hand in everything. His
mistrust will but further my machinations.”
“Very well, Roxhythe, I consent.”
The favourite laughed.
“Did you mean to withhold your consent, Sir?”
“I’ve no wish to ruin you, David.”
“Why, I am ruined already. What happens after your death is no matter
at all.”
“Well, I do not think I shall die yet,” said Charles placidly.
* * * * *
After welcoming the new Parliament with wild enthusiasm, England
settled down to enjoy a panic concerning Papists and Papist heirs.
This panic my Lord Shaftesbury fostered lovingly. He was a brave man,
but the rest of the Council were not. They hesitated at bringing in an
Exclusion Bill. But they agitated with the rest.
For a short space Shaftesbury supported the King’s suggested Bill of
Securities, but he decided at last that it was not strong enough,
and laid it aside. He prevailed upon the Council to bring in a Bill
excluding James from the throne and devolving it upon the next
Protestant heir. The Commons liked the Bill, and passed it. My Lord
Shaftesbury anticipated trouble in the other House, and he instructed
the Commons to prepare a Remonstrance.
Charles deemed it prudent to prorogue his Parliament.
The trouble fermented. My Lord Shaftesbury held meetings and
discussions. So did my Lords Halifax, Essex, and Sir William Temple,
the Secretary of State. Into these meetings was introduced the magic
name of Roxhythe.
Lord Holles mentioned my lord first. He was dining with Shaftesbury.
“I believe I have set my finger on a weak spot in the King’s armour,”
he remarked. He peeled a nut, and ate it.
The Earl was all attention.
“What have you discovered, Holles?”
Holles ate another nut.
“I have reason to think that his favourite stands against him.”
“Roxhythe? Impossible!”
“On the contrary. If you think for a moment you will see that it is
more than probable.”
“You think that Roxhythe realizes that the accession of James would be
his downfall?”
“Well, he is no fool.”
Shaftesbury pushed back his chair, frowning.
“I would never trust Roxhythe.”
“Except when he works for himself.”
“Less than ever then.”
“I disagree. I discern signs of uneasiness in my lord.”
“I can’t believe that Roxhythe would ever betray his feelings.”
“They were very slight signs, I admit. I fancy he is working for the
exclusion.”
Shaftesbury sat biting his nail, his face in worried lines.
“If it were so it would help the cause more than anything else.”
“So I think. I know that he dined with Savile twice last week.”
“With Halifax! That means he favours the accession of Mary!”
“It is more likely that he has not thought of Monmouth. Monmouth should
be more to his taste.”
“Holles, I wish that I might be sure of this! If one could trust him he
would be invaluable. He has so much influence.”
“Why not sound him?”
“How?”
“Invite him to dinner.”
“Quite impossible. I do not visit him.”
“Then let me. I’ll also invite you.”
Ashley bit his nail again, irresolute.
“If he would come----”
“Oh, he will come! He often dines with me.”
“I do not think that he would ever work for a party.”
“It remains to be seen. It is just possible that our great Roxhythe is
a little apprehensive.”
* * * * *
Two days later Roxhythe exhibited a letter to his master.
“I am bidden to Holles to-morrow, Sir.”
“Really?” Charles took the letter. “How amiable he is! They mean to
probe you, David.”
My lord smiled serenely. He accepted the invitation.
During dinner at Lord Holles’ house he excelled himself. He talked on
every subject but one, and that one politics; witticisms flowed from
his tongue, and if they annoyed Shaftesbury, they delighted his host.
When the servants had at last left the room, Lord Holles filled up the
glasses, and, not without regret, brought the conversation round to
home affairs. He began cautiously, for Ashley had implored him to be
very circumspect in what he said before Roxhythe. He leaned back in his
chair, tilting it slightly.
“We are all idle since our prorogation, Roxhythe--and somewhat
disgruntled!” He grimaced ruefully. “I should not say that to you, I
suppose.”
Roxhythe stared into his glass.
“Yes, the Bill seems to have failed.”
“The poor Bill! But we must not weary you with it. You understand it
is something of an obsession! However, I know you are not interested.
Shaftesbury, a little Burgundy?”
“Why should I not be interested?” asked Roxhythe. “Of course--it really
does not affect me....” He left a pause.
Holles shot a look at the Earl.
“Why I rather thought ye were above our discussions! But--well, you are
not always at one with his Grace of York, are you?”
He achieved a roguish smile.
Roxhythe touched his lips with his napkin.
“Not always,” he said.
Holles thought it as well to change the subject. He was an artist, he
flattered himself. Presently he would let the the conversation glide
back to politics. He was annoyed when Shaftesbury, always impatient,
came abruptly back to the all-important topic.
“Of course, if we have James we are assured of Papist successors.”
Roxhythe looked up quickly.
“Oh, ’tis not the successors----” he stopped. “Do you think so?”
Holles replenished his glass. Since Shaftesbury had so tactlessly
re-introduced the subject it had best be continued.
“With both parents Catholic, what would you?” he asked. “We ought to
have a Protestant heir.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see
Shaftesbury’s apprehensive gaze, full of warning.
Roxhythe was gloomy.
“Yes, but Mary means the Prince of Orange.”
“True.” Holles returned Shaftesbury’s look steadily. “You do not like
the thought?”
Roxhythe sipped his wine, of a sudden languid.
“In truth it concerns me not.”
There was no more political talk that evening.
When Roxhythe had gone, Holles returned to Shaftesbury, triumphant.
“What did I say?”
“Yes,” agreed the Earl. “But he is not desirous of joining us. I think
he still ponders.”
“Evidently. And you see that he does not relish the idea of the Orange.
We must secure him, my lord.”
“If we can--if ’tis safe. He does not give much away.”
“Except that he wants the exclusion.”
“I wonder....” Shaftesbury frowned uncertainly. “It may have been that
he wished us to infer that.”
Holles was derisive.
“My dear Ashley! One could see that he was perturbed by his manner. Did
you not think so?”
“Yes--and no.”
“It was palpable! He must be cajoled to our side.”
“I do not like it!” Shaftesbury spoke curtly. “I do not trust Roxhythe.
He might ruin us.”
“But will he? Do you not see that he must at all costs exclude James?
He knows that the Duke hates him.”
“I do not expect him to work against the King.”
“Rest assured that he would never do so openly. So much the better.”
“If we invite him to be one of us we take too great a risk.”
“I do not agree. If we do not snare him he may go over to Temple’s
party. He has too much influence in the Upper House to be counted
lightly. You do not want the Orange.”
“No, damme! But could he influence the House to that extent?”
“I think it more than likely. And if we set Monmouth up as the heir
Roxhythe could very easily influence the King to ruin him.”
“If he became one of Temple’s party that is what he would do, of
course. Well.... But I do not like it!”
“Leave it to me!” said Holles.
* * * * *
My Lord Roxhythe repaired to Whitehall. The King went apart with him.
“We progress,” said my lord tranquilly. “I am advocate for Mary, I am
advocate for Monmouth.”
“’Sblood, David, does Shaftesbury really think to set Monmouth on the
throne when I am gone?”
“So I gather. Temple wishes to bring Prince William to England to
accustom the mind of England to the idea of his succession. But
Shaftesbury will have none of it.”
“And you?”
“Very secretly I am with Temple--say Halifax. Not wholly. They are
still in doubt about me. Shortly I shall be one of Shaftesbury’s band.
Then we shall see.”
“It must be damned entertaining!” exclaimed the King.
“It is damned hard work!” retorted Roxhythe.
CHAPTER II
THE SCHEMERS
CAUTIOUSLY did my Lord Holles set about the business of snaring
Roxhythe. It took some little time to win this trump card to his side,
but he did it at length, marvelling at his own sagacity and cunning.
At last Roxhythe allowed himself to be persuaded, and then he entered
into the cause, as he put it, heart and soul. Shaftesbury still had
misgivings; in Roxhythe’s presence his conversation was always guarded,
yet he could not but see the truth in what Holles said: Roxhythe must
at all costs work for the Duke of York’s exclusion. Reluctantly he
invited Roxhythe to a discussion at his house.
The only other schemers there that day were Holles and one Lord
Roberts. Roberts was entirely of Holles’ mind concerning Roxhythe. He
clasped my lord warmly by the hand.
“I am glad to know that you are one of us, my lord!”
“I am honoured to be one of you,” smiled Roxhythe. “This is a serious
matter.”
“It is indeed, my lord! It is indeed!”
Shaftesbury drew forward a chair.
“I need hardly say, Lord Roxhythe, that we trust to your discretion.”
“Certainly,” bowed my lord.
He listened to the discussion with interest. It appeared that the
worthy gentlemen did not know how to win my Lords Halifax and Essex
to their side. It also appeared that not many of the Council desired
Monmouth for King.
In the middle of the argument my lord upraised his smooth voice.
“It seems, gentlemen, that the opposing side think his Grace would be
an unpopular King.”
“That is true!” cried Roberts. “They do not think that he would ever
be received. I believe it is for that reason alone that they will not
join us. Many of them do not really want William.”
“Then they should be shown how popular is the Duke,” said my lord.
“You mean that we should thrust him to the fore?”
“Present him to the people.... H’m!” Shaftesbury was dubious.
“He has been in the background of late,” remarked Holles. “It might be
well to parade him.”
“Where is his Grace?” blandly asked my lord.
“He could not be present to-day,” answered Roberts, before Shaftesbury
could intercept him.
“A pity,” said Roxhythe. He shrugged, and brought out his comfit-box.
“Why?” Shaftesbury it was who shot the question.
“He might have had some suggestion to put forward,” replied my lord.
“Oh, no!” Roberts shook his head. “He will be advised by us.”
“Why, that is better still,” said my lord, very urbane.
“Lord Roxhythe’s suggestion has merit,” observed Holles slowly. “It
might be well to bring the Duke before the people’s eyes once more. You
remember how popular he was during the war?”
“The people admired his courage--why not send him to Scotland?” Lord
Roberts started forward. “If the King might be induced to put him at
the head of the troops!”
“To quell the rising? I do not know that His Majesty would do that.”
Roxhythe spoke disparagingly. “He desires to keep the Duke at his side.”
“Could you not prevail with the King?” asked Holles.
Roxhythe seemed to consider.
“It is difficult. I do not want to become a suspect.”
“Surely you could do it in such a way that the King should suspect
naught?”
“I might. I do not know.”
“It should not be so difficult. The King trusts in you.”
“Yes. Well, I will think on it. If I may safely do so I will use my
influence. But the suggestion should come from Shaftesbury.”
“I agree with that,” said Roberts decidedly. “You could well suggest it
to His Majesty, Ashley.”
“I am not sure that I approve of the scheme. Better that we should wait
for a time.”
“No, no! If we wait we lose ground,” replied Holles. “If Monmouth
quells the rising in Scotland the people will laud him once more. Then
he can be paraded as much as you please. My Lords Halifax and Essex
will see that he would be very easily the people’s choice.”
Still Shaftesbury hesitated.
“It is a bold step.”
“A sure step.”
“I think Holles is right,” said Roxhythe gently. “Halifax and Essex are
uncertain. If they were clearly shown which way the people look they
would be more likely to join us.”
“That is so, of course. On the other hand they may take fright at so
bold a move.”
“If you think that I should keep Monmouth in the background,” said
Roxhythe.
“No. The step is worth taking,” said Roberts. “Do you, Roxhythe, think
that Halifax and Essex will take fright?”
“It is hard to say,” fenced his lordship. “I had not thought so, I
confess, but I may have been wrong.”
“There!” Roberts turned to Shaftesbury. “You hear?”
“And I still hesitate.”
Roxhythe smoothed his ruffles.
“I do advise you to be guided by Shaftesbury. I know very little of
these matters.”
“You under-rate yourself, my lord!” cried Roberts. “I advocate the
scheme.”
“And I,” said Holles.
Shaftesbury sighed.
“Very well, gentlemen. Since you are determined.”
* * * * *
Roxhythe visited the King in his closet that evening. Charles laughed
at him.
“Well, my plotter?”
“I am deep in intrigue,” said Roxhythe. He sat down. “I have attended a
meeting of our dear friends Ashley, Holles and Roberts.”
“I would give much to see you in their company,” chuckled the King.
“What have you gleaned?”
“Several things. One that will grieve you, Sir.”
“Monmouth?”
“Monmouth.”
“He is privy to it?” Charles’ voice was anxious.
“I am afraid so, Sir.”
For a moment the King did not speak. He fingered his curls, his face
overcast.
“I had not thought it of him,” he said at last. “This is ill hearing,
David.”
“Not so ill as it might be, Sir. Monmouth would appear to be little
more than a puppet in Shaftesbury’s hands.”
Charles pulled down the corners of his mouth.
“I wish he were not so weak!”
“Well, Sire, you always knew that he was--easily led.”
“You said so from the first. What more?”
“I played with these worthy gentlemen. It was most amusing. They
debated as to how they were to further Monmouth’s cause. I suggested
that he should be brought to the people’s notice again. They liked
my suggestion. All but Shaftesbury. He has sense but not sufficient
faith in himself. The next suggestion came from Roberts. Why not
send Monmouth to quell the Scottish rising? Eventually they decided
that this was a brilliant step. I am to prevail upon Your Majesty to
consent. Shaftesbury is to suggest it to you.”
“Shaftesbury is very daring!”
“Very. Now, Sir, the point is this: by exhibiting Monmouth and by
circulating the cry that he is the rightful heir, Shaftesbury will
undoubtedly excite the people. I have insinuated that Halifax and Essex
will also be won over.”
“They will not.”
“Most certainly they will not. They are hot for the Orange. And they
would never stand for Monmouth on account of his birth. Your Majesty
will pardon me if I speak too plainly.”
Charles smiled.
“Ay, I pardon you. Go on.”
“When they see Monmouth blazoning in Scotland, and, later, blazoning
through England, they will be the more alienated from Shaftesbury. And
I rather think that the more timorous members of the Council, still
wavering, will be shocked at Shaftesbury’s sudden move, and will either
join the Orange party, or withdraw from the combat. Especially if Your
Majesty shows signs of annoyance.”
“Very wise, Roxhythe. But are you sure of Halifax and Essex?”
“Perfectly. And I am moderately sure of our dear Sunderland.”
“Sunderland! Is he an Orangist?”
“Tentatively. If the Orange cause seems likely to prosper, he will
become an ardent member. If not--he will be properly indignant at the
Exclusion Bill.”
“He does not cast his eyes in Monmouth’s direction?”
“He is too astute. Monmouth could never be King.”
“H’m! Well, I always thought him a man of brain.”
“He is very wily. I advise you, Sir, to consent to Monmouth’s
generalship of the troops. Let him quell the rising; he has shown
himself to be an able soldier. When the talk circulates that he is to
be King after you, I shall be shaken with doubt. It may be that I shall
affect others of Shaftesbury’s persuasion. It may even be that these
eminently temperate gentlemen will draw back a little. Thus you have
Shaftesbury standing alone. Then you may strike, and be sure of Essex
and Halifax and Temple their approval.”
Charles stopped fingering his curls. His eyes brightened.
“_Cordieu_, David, I believe you are right! Essex and the rest of
them are afraid of Shaftesbury since they supported the prorogation in
May. If Shaftesbury wins they fall. Why, I shall have Shaftesbury in
the hollow of my hand!”
“It will mean a struggle,” warned Roxhythe. “He is a dangerous man.”
“Whatever I do means a struggle. When I dismiss him Shaftesbury will
move heaven and earth to defeat me, but it is the first step. And
then--an end to our brave Earl!”
“So I think, Sir.”
Charles relaxed again. Presently he frowned.
“Heigh-ho! I am disappointed in Monmouth. I did not think he would work
behind me.”
“You would not like him to step into your shoes, Sir?” Roxhythe glanced
at him curiously.
Charles was genuinely surprised.
“I know that I have accorded him many rights and favours, but surely
you cannot think that I would set him above James? Why, he is
illegitimate!”
Roxhythe nodded.
“I wondered.”
“My moral sense is not so perverted, David!”
“No. I am glad of it.”
Charles opened his eyes lazily.
“Do you care, then? I thought it was all one to you?”
“It is really. But I would sooner have James than the son of Lucy
Walters.”
“Of course. God’s Body, but I should be a pretty Stuart if I connived
at that!”
Roxhythe took up his hat.
“But you would not connive at it.... Well, Sir, I must be gone. I am
due at Lord Essex his house in an hour.”
“Poor David! Have you ever led so strenuous a life before?”
“Seldom,” answered Roxhythe. He smiled a little.
“I believe you like the game!” cried Charles, much amused.
“It is not without interest,” admitted his lordship. Then he sighed.
“They are all so easy to trick,” he deplored. He went out languidly.
CHAPTER III
AGITATIONS
SO the Duke of Monmouth went to Scotland.
A mysterious tale arose. It was rumoured that the King had married Lucy
Walters. There was much talk of a marriage certificate sealed in a
certain box. Roxhythe attributed the tale to Shaftesbury, and affected
dismay. He told the Earl that he had gone too far. He implored him to
do nothing rash. Shaftesbury almost believed in his honesty.
As soon as he had put down the rising, the Duke of Monmouth returned
triumphant to London.
Then the King fell ill. Monmouth showed himself everywhere on the
strength of it, and my Lords Sunderland, Halifax and Essex implored
Charles to recall the Duke of York. They were very much afraid that if
Charles grew worse and died, Monmouth would succeed at once.
Back came the Duke of York, sore at what he termed his banishment.
From Sunderland he learned that Roxhythe was all for his exclusion. He
thanked the pious Lord Sunderland for this information, and confessed
that it in no way surprised him. He raved at Charles. Charles,
convalescent, told him that he was a fool, and sent him to Scotland.
Acting partly on Roxhythe’s advice, and partly from his own disgust at
his son, he deprived Monmouth of his generalship, and ordered him to
leave the country.
Doggedly Shaftesbury clung to his cause, deserted by all but a few.
Supported by Lords Russell and Roxhythe, he pushed on the persecution
of the Catholics in the country. Several entirely innocent men were put
to death, including eight priests. The terror of the Popish plot was
fanned into fresh flame. Roxhythe watched carefully, and, at length,
solemnly warned Shaftesbury that he was going beyond all bounds. He
counselled prudence, but by now my Lord was violent.
The King entered into the conflict and dismissed him from his post of
Lord President of the Council. As Roxhythe had predicted, he had the
Council’s full support.
Then he summoned Roxhythe.
“There is danger, David.”
“Great danger, Sir. Shaftesbury is determined to win.”
“And so am I. We shall see. I have appealed to France.” He frowned.
“France has answered?”
“Ay. Offering me degrading terms! This means I must call a Parliament.
Heigh-ho!”
“You would be wise to wait before you allow it to meet, Sir.”
“I must gain time. I shall prorogue its assembly until November.”
“November of ’80. If you can.”
“I know that I can.”
In spite of all petitions he stood firm. Parliament was not allowed to
meet.
Shaftesbury grew still more daring. Again Roxhythe was closeted with
the King.
Charles was worried.
“Shaftesbury exceeds all bounds, David. I am fearful for the result.”
“Give him rope, Sir,” advised my lord. “He’ll hang himself yet.”
“I don’t doubt it. But in the meantime he is working much harm. What is
this tale of pamphlets?”
“Our gentle Earl has a brain, Sir. He has formed a body. I am one of
the body. We promote agitation. In time Essex will join us.”
“Roxhythe, this is serious!”
“Not as serious as it would seem, Sir. The public is tired of the
Popish plot. Instead of executions, we now have acquittals.”
“But if Essex joins Shaftesbury it will mean great trouble!”
“It will bring matters to a head. There will indeed be trouble, but if
you stand firm you will win. Monmouth is to return.”
Charles started up.
“What’s that? Monmouth defy me?”
“Shaftesbury sways him to his will. He induces him to come back to
London.”
“It exceeds all bounds! It is direct insolence to me!”
“Therefore let be. It gives you yet another handle against our good
Earl. You may trust me to further the dissension in the Council.
Halifax is still for the Orange. Sunderland....” He paused.
“What of Sunderland?”
“He has my admiration. He is very secret. As yet I can hardly say which
party he supports: Orange or James. He waits to see which will win.”
“God’s Body! I am prettily served!”
“You are, Sir.”
“That Monmouth should treat me thus! My own son!”
“Monmouth is a tool. You have very little to fear from that quarter.
I have ascertained that every right-minded person in the country is
opposed to him. They want Mary. Provided we can keep up the dissension,
and use your influence in the Lords, the Exclusion Bill will be thrown
out.”
“And in the meantime every town is garrisoned and I dare not move one
way or the other for fear that popular feeling may turn against me! All
this arming smacks of civil war.”
“Therefore I help to push it on. No one wants another war, and daily
more men are coming round to your side.”
“You think that, David?”
“I am sure of it, Sir. But use your influence in the Upper House. The
Bill will come again very soon and I think it will easily pass the
Commons. The Peers are your one hope.”
Charles rested his head in his hand.
“_Mordieu!_ I am beset! I must look again to France.”
“Not yet. Let Shaftesbury run his course.”
“Oh, ay, ay! But what of the Orangists?”
“I told you some time ago, Sir, that Halifax blows cold when the rest
blow hot. I believe he will oppose the Bill. Ostensibly it will be for
the Duke of York, but William is at the back of his mind. He talks of
another Bill of Securities that will vest all power in the Parliament.
The Commons will never consent to that, I am sure. So if the Lords
throw out the Exclusion, the Commons will throw out the Securities.
Thus you gain time.”
Charles sighed.
“You are wonderful, David. So you advise me to take no steps?”
The favourite dangled his gloves by their tassels. He was cool and very
collected.
“Not yet. Exert your influence in the Upper House and leave the
factions to quarrel. The Country itself is divided in half.”
Charles sat silent. Suddenly he rose.
“It might be as well to recall James,” he said.
“If you like, Sir. It will bring him before the people again. It may
bind his supporters more closely to him; on the other hand it will
raise fresh opposition.”
“In fact,” said Charles, “it will raise more dissension, which you say
we want.”
“Then send for him, Sir.”
* * * * *
A fortnight later Monmouth was travelling round England, having arrived
in London secretly, by night, and Essex had joined with Shaftesbury.
Russell and Cavendish handed in their resignations, and back came the
Duke of York to London, furious at Monmouth’s return. The Exclusion
Bill came and went; the tide was turning in the King’s favour.
Almost despairing, Shaftesbury brought in a Bill of Divorce, enabling
the King to put away his Queen and re-marry. Charles was very angry;
the Duke of York was more so.
Then Roxhythe brought new and disturbing news to Court.
“Sire, Shaftesbury is desperate, but he contemplates a last blow.”
“What is it?” asked Charles.
The Duke, who was present, eyed Roxhythe malevolently.
“He seeks to impeach Lord Stafford.”
Charles sank back in his chair.
“Impossible!”
“It is infamous!” snapped the Duke. “It can come to naught.”
Roxhythe turned.
“Your pardon, Sir, it can come to a great deal.”
“Lord Stafford’s age protects him!”
“Not from the fury of the mob.”
“You are right,” said Charles wearily. “His trial would inflame them
again. Shaftesbury knows that.”
“I have done all in my power to dissuade him, but he had a strong
support. It has also come to his ears, through Essex, that I have not
played his game alone. He looks on me with an eye of suspicion once
more.”
“As well he might!”
Roxhythe smiled blandly upon his Grace.
“As well he might,” he agreed.
Charles frowned.
“I’ll have no bickering! Roxhythe works in my interests and yours,
James.”
The Duke sneered. He did not relish being rebuked in front of the
favourite.
“David, if the jury finds Stafford guilty I am undone. Already Louis
stands against me, and if Shaftesbury succeeds in this, Sunderland will
take fright again. What would you have me do?”
“Stafford must not die!” said James harshly. “It were iniquitous!”
Roxhythe walked to the window. He spoke with his back to the room.
“It may mean Stafford or you, Sir.”
James gnawed his lip. The King’s eyes were brooding.
“I might intervene.”
Silence.
“What say you, David?”
“You must intervene!” cried James.
“David!”
Roxhythe shrugged.
“You’ll lose all that we have been fighting for, Sir. Perhaps your
throne.”
“You think that?”
“Your Majesty knows the temper of a mob. If it is baulked of its victim
it may turn on you.”
“But, _cordieu_! Surely Stafford is innocent?”
“Undoubtedly. That will avail him naught.”
“No jury will find him guilty!” rasped James.
“I think no jury will dare acquit him.”
“_Sangdieu_, am I King, or am I not?” cried Charles.
“At present, Sir, you are King.”
“Is it possible, Lord Roxhythe, that you advise Stafford’s death?”
asked James scathingly.
“I advise naught, sir. It is for His Majesty to decide.”
“It seems I am impotent,” said Charles. His voice held much of
bitterness. “Why did I return to this ungrateful people?”
“God knows, Sir.”
“And what if I allow them to murder Stafford? Is it the end? Can I make
it the end?”
“You will be nearing the end. Shaftesbury thinks to hold you at his
mercy on account of the poverty of the Treasury. He relies on your
enforced consent to the Exclusion. If you can wring money from France
the end is in sight.”
“Faugh!” James flung himself back in his chair. “My God, to what are we
coming?”
Charles was thinking quickly.
“I am still negotiating with Louis ... it might be possible.”
“_Mille diables_, Sir, consider!”
“Pray calm yourself, James. Do you want the Crown?”
“Ay! But not this way!”
“How then?”
James was silent.
“In Stafford’s place I would readily die, Sir.”
James burst out again.
“Very noble, Lord Roxhythe, and easily said! You are not in his place!”
“At seventy, and lying in prison, death should be welcome,” said
Roxhythe imperturbably.
“A traitor’s death? You sicken me! You revolt me!”
“Have done!” commanded the King. “It is Stafford or ourselves. And he
has not yet been tried. Wait.”
“Call out the army!” snapped James. “Arrest Monmouth and Shaftesbury.”
Roxhythe smiled. The smile infuriated His Grace.
“Ay, sneer my lord, sneer! How do I know that you are not deliberately
advising my brother to his undoing? You are very sanguine as to the
result of this execution! What do you know? You would do well to have a
care!”
The brown eyes grew haughty.
“Your Grace is insulting.”
“_Sangdieu!_ Has it come to that? I am insulting? I tell you, my
lord--”
Charles rose. He was no longer one of them. He was the King.
“You are both lacking in respect to me. I will have no quarrelling
here. James, you speak wildly. Roxhythe, you may go.”
My lord picked up his hat and bowed.
“I crave Your Majesty’s pardon.” He left the room.
The King turned to his brother.
“James, I request that you will not speak thus to Roxhythe. You should
know by now that he acts only in my interests.”
“The man is double-faced! He hates me!”
“You have not given him over-much cause to love you. I warn you, do not
anger him.”
Two red spots burnt on the Duke’s cheekbones.
“Your Majesty asks too much of me! I also have a warning! Do not trust
Roxhythe!”
Charles looked at him, half smiling. He seemed to slip back into his
easy placidity.
“You are a fool, James,” he said, quite pleasantly.
CHAPTER IV
THE KING HIS TRIUMPH
SIR Jasper came slowly into his wife’s room. Lady Frances knew from his
face that he was troubled. She could guess the cause. She was reading a
letter from Christopher, but it fell to the ground as she sprang up.
“Oh, Jasper--no!”
Montgomery took her hands.
“My dear....”
Unaccustomed tears came to her eyes.
“They won’t let him die! Oh, they cannot!”
“The sentence was read to-day.”
Lady Frances pulled her hands away.
“It’s too awful! too cruel! He never had a thought of--plotting! He was
so sweet--so--” She broke down.
Montgomery watched her pitifully.