Shrewsbury: A Romance

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XLI

  That the arrest of Sir John Fenwick, reported in London on the 13th ofJune, was regarded by all parties as an event of the first magnitude,scarce exceeded in importance by a victory in Flanders or a defeat inthe Mediterranean, is a thing not to be denied at this time of day;when men, still in their prime, can recall the commotion occasioned byit. The private animosity, which was believed to exist between SirJohn and the King, and which dated, if the gossip of Will's andGarraway's went for anything, not from the slight which he had putupon the late Queen, but from a much earlier period, when he hadserved under William in Flanders, aroused men's curiosity, and in asense their pity; as if they were to see here the end of a Greekdrama.

  Nor, apart from the public and general interest, which Sir John'sbirth and family connections, no less than his share in the plot,considerably augmented, was there any faction which could view hisarrest with indifference. He had been so deep in the confidence of St.Germain's that were he to make a discovery, not Tories and Jacobitesonly lay at his mercy, but all that large class among the Whigs whohad stooped to palter with James. These, as they were the moreculpable had also more to fear. Trembling at the prospect of adisclosure which must convict them of practices at variance with theirmost solemn professions, they were supported by none of thosesentiments of loyalty, honourable if mistaken, which excused theothers; while as each fondly thought his perfidy unknown to hisneighbour, and dreaded nothing so much as detection by the rank andfile of the party, he found the burden of apprehension weigh the moreheavily, because he had none to share it with him.

  The absence of the King, who was campaigning in Flanders, aggravatedthe suspense; which prevailed so widely for the reasons above, andothers, that it is not too much to say that barely four politicianscould be found of the first or second rank who were not nearlyconcerned in the question of Sir John Fenwick's silence. Of these,however, I make bold to say that my lord was one; and though the newsthat Sir John, who lay in the Tower, had sent for the Duke ofDevonshire may have excited a passing feeling of jealousy in hismind--since he and not the other Duke was the person to whom Sir Johnmight more fitly unbosom himself--I am confident, and, indeed, had itfrom his own lips, that at this time he had no notion of any dangerthreatening himself.

  His eyes were first opened by the Earl of Marlborough; who, callingupon him one day, ostensibly on business connected with the PrincessAnne (to whom the King had been reconciled before his departure),presently named Sir John. From this to the statement made to the Dukeof Devonshire, and the rumours of its contents which filled thecoffee-houses, was but a step. The Earl seemed concerned; my lord, inhis innocence, sceptical.

  At length the latter spoke out what was in his mind. "To tell you thetruth, my lord," he said frankly, "I think it is a mare's nest. Idon't believe that any statement has been made."

  The Earl looked astonished. "May I ask why not?" he said.

  "Because, unless I am much mistaken," my lord answered smiling, "theDuke would have brought it straight to me. And I have heard nothing ofit."

  "You have not asked the Duke?"

  "Of course not."

  "But--he was with Sir John," the Earl persisted steadily. "There is nodoubt of that, is there?"

  "Oh, no."

  "Well, then, is not that in itself strange?"

  "I think not, there have always been friendly relations," my lordcontinued, "between the Duke and Sir John."

  "Just so," Lord Marlborough answered, taking a pinch of snuff. "Still,do those relations warrant the Lord Steward in visiting him now?"

  The Secretary looked a little startled. "Well, I don't know," he said."But the Duke of Devonshire's patriotism is so well established----"

  "That he may steal the horse, while we look over the wall," LordMarlborough answered, taking him up with a smile. "Be that as it may,"he continued, "and I am sure that the same may be said of the Duke ofShrewsbury,"--here the two noblemen bowed to one another--"I thinkyour Grace's information is somewhat faulty on this point. I happen toknow that immediately after the interview a special messenger leftDevonshire House for Loo; and that the matters he carried were reducedinto writing by his Grace's own hand. That being so, Duke, you arebetter qualified to draw the inference than I am."

  My lord, at that, looked grave and nodded, being convinced; and I donot doubt that he felt the slight which the other Duke's silenceimplied. But though, of all the men I have ever met, he was the mostsensitive, he was the last also, to wear his heart on his sleeve; andnot only did he refrain from complaint of his colleague's conduct, buthe hastened to dispel by a word or two the effect of his momentarygravity. "Ah, then I can guess what happened," he said, nodding hiscomprehension. "I have no doubt that Sir John made it a term that hisdiscovery should be delivered to the King at first hand--and to no oneelse."

  Lord Marlborough rose. "Duke," he said firmly, "I think it is fairthat I should be more frank with you. The reason you give is not thereason they are giving in the coffee-houses--for the Lord Steward'sreticence."

  "No!" said my lord, with a faint note of scorn in his voice.

  "No," said the Earl. "On the contrary, they say at Will's--and for thematter of that at the St. James's too, that the statement is keptclose because it touched men in power."

  "In power?" said my lord, with the same note in his voice. "In theCouncil, do you mean?"

  "Yes; three men."

  "Do they name them?"

  "Certainly," said my Lord Marlborough, smiling. "And they join withthe three one who is not in power."

  "Ah!"

  "Myself."

  Nothing could exceed the placid indifference, as natural as it wasfree from exaggeration, which the Earl contrived to throw into hislast word. Yet my lord started, and shuffled uneasily in his chair.Knowing something, and perhaps suspecting more, aware of the characterwhich his enemies attributed to Lord Marlborough, he would not havebeen the statesman he was, if he had not fancied an ulterior design,in an admission not a little embarrassing. He confined himself,therefore, to a polite shrug expressive of incredulity, and to thewords "_Credat Judaeus_."

  "Just so," said Lord Marlborough, whose erudition was not on a parwith the marvellous strategical powers he has since displayed. "What,then, will your Grace say--to Ned Russell?"

  "The First Lord of the Admiralty? Is _he_ named?"

  "In the coffee-houses."

  "Ah!"

  "Lord Godolphin!"

  "Impossible!"

  "Not so impossible as the fourth," Lord Marlborough answered, with alight laugh, in which courtesy, amusement, and a fine perception ofthe ridiculous were nicely mingled. "Can you not guess, Duke?"

  But my lord, too prudent to suggest names in that connection, shookhis head. "Who could?" he said, raising his eyebrows scornfully. "Theymight as well name me, as some you are mentioning."

  Lord Marlborough laughed softly. "My very dear Duke," he said, "thatis just what they are doing! They do name you. You are the fourth."

  I believe that my lord had so little expected the answer that for aspace he remained, staring at the speaker, in equal surprise anddismay. Then his indignation finding vent: "It is not possible!" hecried. "Even in the coffee-houses! And besides, if your story is true,my lord, the Duke of Devonshire alone knows what Sir John hasdiscovered, and whom he has accused!"

  Lord Marlborough pursed up his lips. "Things get known--strangely," hesaid. "For instance, the shadow which came between your Grace and HisMajesty in '90--probably you supposed it to be known to the King only,or if to any besides, to Portland at most? On the contrary, there wasscarce a knot of chatterers at Garraway's but whispered of yourdinners with Middleton, and meetings with Montgomery, watched for theevent, and gave the odds on St. Germain's in guessing."

  The Earl spoke in his airiest manner, took snuff _in medio_, and witha carelessness that none could so well affect, avoided looking at hishearer. Nevertheless, the shaft went home. My lord, smitten betweenthe joints of his harness,
suffered all that a proud and sensitiveman, apprised on a sudden that his dearest secrets were the propertyof the market-place, could suffer; and rage dissipating the composurewhich self-respect would fain have maintained, "My lord, this is goingtoo far!" he gasped. "Who gave your lordship leave to--to touch on amatter which concerns only myself?"

  "Simply this later matter," the Earl answered in a plain,matter-of-fact tone that at once sobered the Duke, and seemed tojustify his own interference. "If there is anything at all in thisrumour--if Sir John has really said anything, I take it that the oldgossip is at the bottom of it."

  The Duke stared before him with a troubled face; and did not answer.To some it might have seemed the most natural course to carry the warinto the informant's country, and by a dry question or a pregnant wordsuggest that at least as good grounds existed for the imputation caston _him_. But such a line of argument was beneath the dignity, whichwas never long wanting, to my lord; and he made no attempt to disturbthe other's equanimity or question his triumph. After a time, however,"I beg your pardon," he said. "I forgot myself and spoke hastily. Buthe is a most impudent fellow!"

  "A d----d impudent fellow," the Earl cried, with more fervour than hehad yet exhibited.

  "And he is playing an impudent game," my lord continued, thoughtfully."But a dangerous one."

  "As he will find to his cost, before he has done!" Lord Marlboroughanswered. "It is cunningly thought of. If he will save his head hemust give up some one. So, as he will not give up his friends he willruin his enemies; if the King is a fool, and can spare us."

  "The King is no fool!" said the Duke, rather coldly. It was no secretthat between William and Lord Marlborough love was not lost.

  "Well, that may be a good thing for us!" the Earl answered lightly. Hehad not the reputation even with his friends of setting his feelingsbefore his interest; nor probably in all England was there a man wholooked out on the world with a keener eye to benefit by the weaknessesof men and make profit of their strength.

  I know that it ill-becomes one in my station to carp at the greatDuke, as men now style him; though of all his greatness, genius, andcourage, there remains but a poor drivelling childishness, callingevery minute for a woman's tendance. And far am I from giving voice orencouragement to the hints of those, who, hating him, maintain that infuture times things incredibly base will be traced to his door. Buttruth is truth; that he knew more of the matter now threatening andstood to lose more by it than my lord, I have little doubt; nor thatthis being so, the real object of his visit was to ensure the solidityof the assailed phalanx, and particularly to make it certain that theSecretary, whose weight with the King was exceeded only by hispopularity with the party, should not stand aloof from the commonhazard.

  Having attained this object, so far as it could be obtained in asingle interview, and finding that the Duke, in spite of all hisefforts to the contrary, continued moody and distraught, he presentlytook his leave. But to my lord's astonishment, he was announced againten minutes later. He re-entered with profuse apologies.

  "I went from your Grace's to the Venetian Ambassador's on the fartherside of the Square," he said. "There I heard it confidently statedthat Goodman, one of the two witnesses against Sir John, hadabsconded. Have you heard it, Duke?"

  "No," my lord answered with some dryness. "And I am sure that it isnot true."

  "You would have heard it?"

  "Necessarily."

  "Nevertheless, and craving your pardon," the Earl answered slowly, "Ithink that there is something in it. If he has not been induced to go,I fancy from what I hear that he is hesitating."

  "Then he must be looked to."

  "Yet! were he to go, you see--it would make all the difference--to SirJohn," the Earl said. "There would be only Porter; and the Actrequires two witnesses."

  My lord lifted his eyebrows; that two witnesses were required in acase of treason was too trite a statement to call for comment. Thenseeing the other's drift, he smiled. "That were to lick the platter,my lord, in order to keep the fingers clean," he said.

  Lord Marlborough laughed airily. "Well put," he said, not a whitabashed. "So it would. You are right, Duke, as you always are. But Ihave detained you too long." With which, and another word of apology,he took his leave a second time.

  That he left an unhappy man behind him, none can doubt, who knew theDuke's sensitive nature, and respect for his high position anddignity. To find that the weakness, venial and casual, of which he hadbeen guilty years before in stooping to listen to Lord Middleton'ssolicitations--a fault which he had fancied known only to the King andby him forgiven--to find that this was the property of the public, wasburden enough; but to learn that on this was to be founded a freshcharge, for the proper refutation of which the past must be raked up,was torture intolerable. In a fine sense of the ridiculous, my lordexcelled any man of his time; he could feather therefore out of hisown breast the shafts of evil that would be aimed at the man, who, oneof the seven to bring over William in '88, had stooped in '89 tolisten to the Exile! He could see more clearly than any all theinconsistency, all the folly, all the weakness of the course, to whichhe had, not so much committed himself, as been tempted to commithimself. The Minister unfaithful, the patriot importuned, were partsin which he saw himself exposed to the town, to the sallies of TomBrown, and the impertinences of Ned Ward; nay, in proportion as heappreciated the grandeur of honest rebellion, of treason, open anddeclared, he felt shame for the pettiness of the part he had himselfplayed, a waverer when trusted, and a palterer when in power.

  Such reflections weighed on him so heavily that though one of theproudest and therefore to those below him one of the most courteousand considerate of men, he could scarcely bring himself to face hissubordinates, when the hour came for him to attend the office. SirJohn Trumball still deferred to him, Mr. Vernon still bowed untilthe curls of his wig hid his stout red cheeks, the clerks where hecame still rose, pale, smug, and submissive, in his honour. But hefancied--quite falsely--something ironical in this respect; hepictured nods and heard words behind his back; and suspecting thetalk, which hushed at his entrance rose high on his departure, to beat his expense, he underwent a score of martyrdoms before he returnedto St. James's Square.

  Meanwhile the absence of the King aggravated his position; firstly, bydepriving him of the only confidant his pride permitted him; secondly,by adding to his troubles the jealousies which invariably attendgovernment by a Council. Popularly considered, he was first Ministerof the Crown, and deepest in the King's confidence. But the knowledgethat one of his colleagues withheld a matter from him, and was inprivate communication with William in respect to it, was not renderedless irksome by the suspicion, amounting almost to a certainty, thathis own concern in the business was that of a culprit. This it waswhich first and most intimately touched his dignity; and this it waswhich at the end of a fortnight of suspense drove him to a desperateresolution. He would broach the matter to the Duke of Devonshire; andlearn the best and the worst of it.

  Desiring to do this in a manner the least formal he took occasion todismiss his coach at the next Council meeting, and telling the Dukethat he wished to mention a matter to him, he begged a seat in hisequipage. But whether the Lord Steward foresaw what was coming andparried the subject discreetly, or my lord's heart failed him, theyreached the Square, and nothing said, except on general topics. There,my lord's people coming out to receive them, it seemed natural to askthe Duke of Devonshire to enter; but my lord, instead, begged the Duketo drive him round and round a while; and when they were againstarted, "I have not been well lately," he said--which was true, morethan one having commented on it at the Council Table--"and I wished totell you, that I fear I shall find it necessary to go into the countryfor a time."

  "To Roehampton?" said his companion, after a word or two of regret.

  "No, to Eyford."

  For a moment his Grace of Devonshire was silent; and my lord withoutlooking at him had the idea that he was startled. At length as thecoach went b
y London House, "I would not do that--just at this time,"he said, quietly.

  "Why not?" asked my lord.

  "Because--well, for one thing, the King's service may suffer."

  "That is not your reason!" quoth my lord, stubbornly. "You arethinking of the Fenwick matter."

  Again the other Duke delayed his answer: but when he spoke his voicewas both kind and earnest. "Frankly, I am," he said. "If you know somuch, Duke, you know that it would have an ill-appearance."

  "How?" said my lord. "Let me tell you that all Sir John knows or canknow, the King knows--and has known for some time."

  This time there was no doubt that the Lord Steward was startled. "Youcannot mean it, Duke," he said, in a constrained voice, and with agesture of reproach. "You cannot mean that it was with his Majesty'sknowledge you had a meeting with Sir John, he being outlawed at thetime and under ban? That were to make His Majesty at best an abettorof treason; and at worst a viler thing! For to incite to treason andthen to persecute the traitor--but it is impossible!"

  "I have not the least notion what your Grace means," my lord said, ina freezing tone. "What is this folly about a meeting with Sir John?"

  The Duke of Devonshire was as proud as my patron; and nothing in thegreat mansion which he was then building in the wilds of theDerbyshire Peak was likely to cause the gaping peasants moreastonishment than he felt at this setback. "I don't understand yourGrace," he said, at last, in a tone of marked offence.

  "Nor I you," my lord answered, thoroughly roused.

  "I am afraid--I have said too much," said the other, stiffly.

  "Or too little," my lord retorted. "You must go on now."

  "Must? Must?" quoth the Duke, whose high spirit had ten years beforeled him to strike a blow that came near to costing him his estate.

  "Ay, must--in justice," said my lord. "In justice to me as well as toothers."

  After a brief pause, "That is another thing," answered the LordSteward civilly. "But--is it possible, Duke, that you know so much,and do not know that Sir John asserts that you met him at Ashford twodays only before his capture, and entrusted him with a ring and amessage--both for St. Germain's?"

  "At Ashford?"

  "Yes."

  "This is sheer madness," my lord cried, holding his hand to his head."Are you mad, Devonshire, or am I?"

  Whether the Duke, having heard Sir John's story and marked his mannerof telling it, had prejudged the cause, or thought that my lordover-acted surprise, he did not immediately answer; and when he didspeak, his tone was dry, though courteous. "Well, of course--it may beSir John who is mad," he said.

  "D----n Sir John," my lord answered, sitting up in the coach andfairly facing his companion. "You do not mean to tell me that youbelieve this story of a cock and a bull, and a--a----"

  "A ring," said the Duke of Devonshire, quietly.

  "Well?"

  "Well, Duke, it is this way," the Lord Steward replied. "Sir John hassomething to say about three others. Lord Marlborough, Ned Russell,and Godolphin. And what he says about them I know in the main to betrue. Therefore----"

  "You infer that he is telling the truth about me?" cried my lord,fuming, yet covering his rage with a decent appearance since a hundredeyes were on them as they drove slowly round in the glass coach.

  "Not altogether. There are other things."

  "What other things?"

  "The talk there was about your Grace and Middleton at the time of yourresignation."

  My lord groaned. "All the world knows that, it seems," he said. "Andshould know that I have never denied it."

  "True."

  "But this! It is the most absurd, the most ridiculous, the mostfantastical story! How could I go out of town for twenty-four hours,and the fact not be known to half London? Let Sir John name the day."

  "He has," the other Duke answered. "He lays it on the tenth of June."

  "Well?"

  "There was a Land Bank meeting of the Council on that day. But yourGrace did not attend it."

  HE SHUT HIMSELF IN WITH HIS TROUBLE]

  "No? No, I remember I did not. It was the day my mother was taken ill.She sent for me, and I lay at her house that night and the next."

  His Grace of Devonshire coughed. "That is unfortunate," he said, andleaned forward to bow to the Bishop of London, whose chariot had justentered the Square.

  "Why?" said my lord, ready to take offence at anything.

  "Because, though I do not doubt your word, the world will requirewitnesses. And Lady Shrewsbury's household is suspect. Her Jacobiteleanings are known, and her people's evidence would go for little.That that should be the day--but there, there, your Grace must takecourage," the Duke continued kindly. "All that the party can do willbe done. Within the week Lord Portland will be here bringing hisMajesty's commands, and we shall then know what he proposes to doabout it. If I know the King, and I think I do----"

  But the picture which these words suggested to my lord's mind was toomuch for his equanimity. To know for certain that the King, who hadextended indulgence to him once, was in possession of this newaccusation, and perhaps believed it, that was bad enough. But to hearthat Portland also was in the secret, and grim, faithful Dutchman ashe was, might presently, in support of the low opinion of Englishfidelity which he held, quote him, the first Minister of England, wastoo much! In a hoarse voice he cut the Duke short, asking to be setdown before they quarrelled; and his Grace, hastening with a hurriedword of sympathy to comply, my lord stepped out, and looking neitherto right nor left, passed into the house, and to the library, where,locking the door, he shut himself in with his trouble.