Courtier in the Royal House of Stuart

by Leslie Hatton

  ‘I like the man, he has been good to me, and I think his subjects love him too. But if the truth be told… I agree with you that he is not suited to the job of king. He is irresponsible and lazy, tending more to the pleasures of life than his responsibilities. He treats his ministers as he does his mistresses, he just uses them, and I am sorry if it offends you Thomas but I have little respect for parliament.’

  Thomas was clearly unhappy just talking about Charles. So I changed the subject.

  ‘So now you are to retire, what are you going to do with your life? You have a beautiful house to live in, a pension from the government and an army of friends.’

  ‘Retired, yes, but I do have work. While you were away, I paid a visit to the Bishop of Richmond and Kingston, he was delighted to have someone with my qualifications available to preach the gospel in his churches.’

  ‘That’s brilliant news Thomas. I’m pleased for you.’

  Viscount Brocklehurst

  I walked through the doors of Westminster Hall as I had done a thousand times before, but this time I stopped at reception.

  ‘Mr Brocklehurst?’ I asked.

  ‘He’s waiting in the jubilee room sir, will you be requiring a guide?’

  ‘Thank you, I know my way.’

  I was more curious than worried. I didn’t know the man so what could he possibly want of me?

  The door was ajar so I stepped inside and when I saw him a shiver shot down my spine. Instinctively I felt for my sword, but I had not carried a weapon since that fateful day in the warehouse at St Catherine’s.

  Edward Brocklehurst appeared not to be carrying a weapon, nevertheless I approached with caution because the man standing before me was Richard Leeson… or his twin as the likeness was uncanny.

  There was, however, something about him that distinguished him from Leeson, this man was different he was clean shaven and well turned-out in a richly embellished velvet suit.

  On the back of the chair where he had been sitting was his cloak, the cuffs and collar edges in gold braid. His beaver hat placed on a side table.

  Standing by his side was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, but she looked sad and perhaps a little worried. Her hair was auburn, parted in the middle and tied back with a purple ribbon, her skin was as smooth as the finest Chinese porcelain, and she was wearing one of the new style French dresses which were all the fashion among the wealthy and nobility.

  He stepped to meet me and offered me his hand which was strong and firm, though I did think he held on a little longer than I thought was normal.

  ‘I think that what we are about to tell you will shock you,’ he said, ‘but we hope and pray that it will also please you. Please sit down.’

  His voice sounded the same as Leeson’s, but somehow was softer and more sincere, he sat opposite me, his lady remaining standing.

  ‘Dear Toby,’ he said lowering his eye…hesitating as if searching for the right words. ‘We are Edward and Charlotte Brocklehurst, your true genetic parents. We were married on the 3rd of June, 1637, and you were born almost a year later in Ireland, on the 1st of May, 1638. You were baptised in secret by the Reverend Doctor John Mills in Temple Church here in London, two weeks later.’

  ‘In secret?’ I asked.

  ‘We believed at the time that by keeping your birth a secret we were protecting you.’

  ‘Protecting me… protecting me from who… who would want to harm a new-born child?’

  ‘My brother. And we have spent years regretting our decision ever since. Please don’t hate us Toby.’

  ‘I don’t hate you. But I am confused.’

  ‘We were having some terrible family problems at the time, caused by my brother’s jealousy.’

  ‘Tell me is… was your brother called Richard?’

  Looking surprised by my question he replied, ‘Yes it is. Did you meet him?’

  ‘Indeed I did… but do go on.’

  ‘Richard was a troubled person, both as a child and a man. He was so jealous of me that he wanted me dead, and he almost succeeded. We were in the stables when he struck me from behind, knocking me out, he then held my head underwater in a trough. I was only saved when my father heard the screams of your mother and came to my rescue.’

  My mother was a few inches shorter than I, and as she took a cautious step and looked up at me, I was troubled to see sadness in her beautiful eyes. ‘Dear Toby,’ she said, ‘will you ever forgive me for abandoning you?’

  My feelings at that moment were more of pity than resentment or anger, she looked so miserable that I just wanted to embrace her, but was unsure how she would react. I took hold of her hand and speaking softly said, ‘You did not abandon me, you left me with Madam Veronica. She raised me with as much love and care I couldn’t have asked for better. She told me that one day you would come back for me, and now you have.’

  Not knowing quite what else to do, and praying quietly to myself that she would not be embarrassed I asked, ‘May I embrace you mother?’

  With tears now running freely down her face, she threw her arms around my neck, hugging and kissing my cheeks while sobbing like a child.

  I am a man and men don’t like to show that kind of emotion, but I found it very difficult to hold back the tears, there was a lump in my throat and my mouth was so dry, I didn’t think I would be able speak even if I tried.

  ‘How can you ever forgive me?’ she whispered. ‘It was never what I wanted to do, but at the time we thought it was the best way to keep you safe.’

  When she eventually released me I stroked her cheeks. ‘You have nothing to reproach yourself for Mother.’ I then kissed her gently on the lips.

  She took hold of my hand and we sat together on a chaise longue, opposite my father.

  ‘Tell me Father, what was the cause of the fight in the first place? What did you do to make him so angry?’

  My mother answered for him. ‘Your father was just trying to stop Richard raping me, he heard my screams and came to my rescue, he’s not usually a violent person, it is Richard who was always the aggressive one.’

  My father leaned forward in his chair and speaking quietly said, ‘Richard is my twin brother, we may look alike but we are completely different in so many ways. He was always jealous of me. Jealous that I had the love of Charlotte, jealous that I was cleverer academically than he, but mostly because as I was the older twin, I would eventually inherit the family title.’

  ‘A title?’

  ‘My father… your grandfather, is John Brocklehurst, 10th Viscount of Kettleford; when he caught Richard trying to kill me, he disinherited him and banished him from the family home forever.

  ‘Before leaving Brocklehurst House, Richard swore that when Father died he would return and murder me, he would then take Charlotte as his wife and slaughter any male heirs I produce.

  ‘When we explained to your grandfather the reason for the fight, he thought it best we leave the country for a while, so he sent us to Ireland on business. What he didn’t know… what no one knew was that at the time Charlotte was pregnant, she was carrying you Toby.

  ‘We were in Ireland for six months, and while we were there in Dublin you were born.

  ‘On our voyage home, we decided that the best way to protect you was to keep your birth a secret, even from your grandfather… a decision we have regretted ever since. Only the Reverend John Mills and Veronica knew your identity. It was he who performed your baptism, and Veronica who took you into her care.’

  ‘Can I ask… what has changed? Why after twenty-five years have you chosen to tell me all this now?’

  ‘We think Richard is dead, we heard he was killed in a warehouse fight at St Catherine’s, and later buried in a pauper’s grave.’

  ‘Why are you so sure it was him?’

  ‘We are not completely sure but it was a man of the r
ight age and with his name.’

  ‘Was that name Leeson?’

  They both looked shocked. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘Because your secret was not a secret at all. Richard Leeson has always known my identity. He called me the son of a whore, and has on four separate occasions tried to kill me. His latest attempt was at that warehouse in St Catherine’s. But tell me… why did he call himself Leeson?’

  ‘When Father disinherited Richard, he went to live in Hastings with our maternal grandmother. It was from her that he adopted the name Leeson, and from her that he received all his money. She bought him his commission in the army thinking a career would help to settle him down. She passed away five years ago. And Richard was wrong, your mother was never a whore. We met at Gresham College when she was just sixteen. She was there studying English and Music, that is where we met and fell in love. We shared the same professor of music, she learning to play the spinet, I the flageolet. You can rest assured Toby, your mother was never a working girl.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have mattered to me if she were, some of Veronica’s girls are delightful young ladies, two of them were instrumental in helping me overcome your brother… they helped to save my life.’

  ‘Were you really with him when he died? Did you kill him Toby?’

  ‘I wanted to, but no I did not… we fought one to one with swords until he was on his knees beaten and bleeding. I offered him the choice of falling on his sword or to die a traitor’s death on the gallows. He chose the former. Does that shock you?’

  ‘Relief more than shock… so he really is dead?’

  ‘He chose to drive his knife through his own heart rather than face a public execution.’

  My mother wiped her eyes and smiled at me. ‘No one will mourn his passing Toby, not even his own father, and for us his death is like a weight off our shoulders, the end of a dreadful nightmare, the first time in years that we can live without fear.’

  It is difficult for me to understand why, but at the time I felt their pain and also their relief. I had only known them for an hour, but I wanted to protect and love them both, our relationship was new, but already the bond between us felt strong. It was as if they had always been there.

  ‘When we returned from Ireland, your grandfather was sick, suffering from fever, we didn’t know if he would survive, so we didn’t tell him about you.’

  I kissed my mother’s hand and asked, ‘Do I have any other relatives I should know about, and is my grandfather still alive?’

  ‘Yes but he is rather fragile these days, and the shock of discovering that he has a grandson may be too much for him. You also have two sisters, Eleanor and Hannah.’

  ‘I must see my grandfather, where is he?’

  My mother, still holding my hand, said quietly: ‘He is at our house in Richmond with Hannah and Eleanor.’

  ‘Please take me to him.’

  My father shuffled uneasy in his chair looking worried. ‘I don’t think that is very wise Toby.’

  ‘I’m sorry Father but I must see him… more so if he is unwell.’

  ‘He will understand Edward,’ said my mother, ‘he will have to find out sooner or later so why not now?’

  ‘He may never forgive me for keeping Toby a secret all these years. We always regretted not telling him in the first place, but the longer we waited, the harder it became.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’m sorry but I must see him.’

  ‘Come Toby,’ said my mother taking hold of my hand, ‘I’ll take you to him.’

  So much had happened in the last hour that I was not surprised in the least to see that my father had not only his own coach and driver, but also that the Brocklehurst’s had their own livery.

  It was obvious the driver had travelled the journey a thousand times before, as we were there in an hour less than when I used the same roads with Thomas on our trek to Barnes a few days earlier.

  Our coach arrived at what I can only describe as a large Manor House. We passed through tall stone gate posts and along an avenue of topiary trimmed trees, all manicured to the same size and shape.

  The coach stopped outside the front door which was guarded by large benign stone lions.

  Our driver helped my mother out and a groom appeared from behind the house to take the reins of the horses.

  My mother took hold of my hand and we followed my father through the entrance hall, up a flight of stairs and into a large superlatively decorated lounge.

  The outlook through the main window was a spectacular view of the river which flowed past the end of an ornamental garden adorned with statues, more topiary bushes and lawns.

  The room was impressively decorated, with a richly painted ceiling and a magnificent marble fireplace above which hung a large oil painting of a cavalry officer astride a black hunter. The plaque describing the subject as Viscount Sir Toby Brocklehurst. The walls were covered with portraits of ladies in rich clothes and important looking men, most of them officers in uniform.

  There was a circle of settees with a high backed chair in the middle where an old man sat facing a large log fire. Talking to him were two extremely attractive young women, who I assumed must be my sisters. They kissed my father and then my mother who said quietly to them, ‘Could you leave us for a few minutes darlings? I will explain everything to you later.’

  They smiled at me as they were leaving and I smiled back, wondering how much they knew about me.

  The old man who I assumed was my grandfather called, ‘Darling Charlie, come and give an old man a hug.’

  It was obvious by the way they reacted to each other that they were very close, and that he probably relied more on his daughter-in-law than he did his own son.

  She kissed him on his forehead and took his hand in hers: ‘I imagine your granddaughters have been giving you plenty of comfort while I have been away.’

  ‘Yes they have my dear. Now tell me… who is this young man you have brought to see me?’

  ‘Please don’t be angry John, but this is my son Toby… mine and Edward’s, your grandson. There were reasons why we couldn’t tell you about him sooner, I know how much you have always longed for a grandson but we thought the best way to protect him was by keeping his identity a secret.’

  ‘I think I can guess what those reasons were,’ he said.

  My mother helped him to his feet, but as I took a step forward to meet him, he started to cough.

  ‘Sit down John, Toby will come to you.’

  When I stood in front of him he offered me his hand and I took it.

  ‘I have consumption my boy, but I’m not quite ready to depart this life just yet.’

  He coughed again and took a drink of water. ‘So I have a grandson, a grandson called Toby.’

  ‘And I have a grandfather called John,’ I said as I sat on a chair next to him and shook his arthritic hand.

  Then looking at my mother he said, ‘I think you had better explain my dear.’

  My father who was standing by the door stepped forward.

  ‘I can explain Father…’

  The old man held up a hand to stop him.

  ‘Better if Charlie tells me Edward.’

  He then looked at me, and I could see by his eyes that he was saddened. I knelt before him and speaking quietly I whispered, ‘We have some catching up to do sir, but first we must get you back to full health.’

  He smiled and patted me on the back. ‘You and I will talk later, but for now let your mother explain. None of this is your fault Toby.’

  I took a step back, and my mother took my place next to him. ‘The problem was Richard. You already know that he tried to kill Edward, and you also know what he tried to do to me. Throwing him out and banishing him only made him more determined. He threatened to kill Edward and any male heirs.’

  ‘I know all that and I know he was
waiting for me to die… but why keep Toby’s birth a secret from me? He would surely have been safer here under my care.’

  ‘We kept our child’s birth a secret to protect him, and I placed him in the care of the one person on earth that I knew beyond any doubt would love him as I do. A person who would die to protect him. I left him with my mother Veronica Bennett, the keeper of the whorehouse on Fleet Alley. So there you have it John; my mother was once a prostitute.’

  ‘Did you really believe I didn’t already know all that? I have always known. My dearest Charlie, I don’t give a jot about your past, it does not matter to me. You have been the daughter I never had, the most caring and loving person I have ever known, the rock that has kept this otherwise dysfunctional family together. But you should have told me, you should have trusted me, I might have been able to help.’

  I could see that she was upset and had tears in her eyes. My father stood behind her and put a soothing hand on her shoulder.

  ‘It hurts me to see you upset,’ I said. ‘Please don’t cry, what is done is done, nobody can turn back time.’

  Everything had happened so quickly I couldn’t take it all in. My head was in a spin and I wanted answers. ‘Is Veronica really my grandmother?’ I asked.

  ‘She is Toby. Every time I see her she asks if she can reveal the truth about your birth. She says you are now a man and would be able to deal with it. She has always thought that I should have told you the truth right from the start, but your father thought you would be safer if your identity was kept a secret.’

  ‘Do you see much of her?’

  ‘Every month we meet, and I give her money for your keep. I also see you, usually in church, I sit at the back with your father and we watch you leave.’

  ‘I thought that you looked familiar,’ I said.

  ‘We try to hide our faces.’

  ‘Toby,’ called my grandfather, pushing himself out of his chair. ‘Come with me, I want to show you the Armoury.’