The Chaplain of the Fleet

by Walter Besant

  CHAPTER THE LAST.

  HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH RECEIVED HIS FREEDOM.

  I returned to my lodging, there to await the event of the next morning.My lord would learn that he was free--so far good. But with his freedomwould come the news that the woman who restored it to him was the samewho had taken it away, and the same whom he had professed to love.Alas! poor Kitty!

  Now was I like unto a man sentenced to death, yet allowed to choose theform of his execution, whether he would be hanged, poisoned, beheaded,stabbed, shot, drowned, or pushed violently and suddenly out of life insome other manner which he might prefer. As the time approaches, hisanxiety grows the greater until the fatal moment arrives when he mustchoose at once; then, in trouble and confusion, he very likely choosesthat very method which is most painful in the contemplation and theendurance. So with me. I might choose the manner of telling my loverall, but tell him I must. "Pray Heaven," I said, "to direct me into thebest way." In the afternoon I became once more Phoebe.

  Phoebe carried a dish of tea; would the gentleman choose to taste it?He took it from Phoebe's hand, drank it, and returned to his writing,which was, I believe, a continuation of that letter, the commencementof which I had seen.

  In the evening Sir Miles paid him a visit of consolation. He drank upwhat was left of the bottle, and, after staying an hour or so, wentaway, noisily promising himself a jovial night with the Doctor.

  At eight o'clock Phoebe brought a tray with cold meat upon it, but mylord would take none, only bidding her to set it down and leave him.

  "Can I do nothing more for you, sir?" asked the maid.

  He started again.

  "Your voice, child," he said (although I had disguised my voice),"reminds of one whose voice----"

  "La, sir!" she asked. "Is it the voice of your sweetheart?"

  He only sighed and sat down again. Phoebe lingered as long as shecould, and then she went away.

  Then we all went to bed. Captain Dunquerque had by this time broughthome the little girls and gone to the Doctor's, where, with Sir Milesand the rest, he was making a night of it.

  It was a hot night; the window was open; the noise of the brawling andfighting below was intolerable; the smell from the market was worsethan anything I remembered, and the bed was a strange one. Added to allthis, my cares were so great that I could not sleep. Presently I aroseand looked out, just as I had done a year before when first I cameto my uncle for protection. Everything was the same; there was lightenough to see the groups of those who talked and the forms of those whoslept. I remembered the old and the young, as I had seen them in thebright light of a July dawn: poor wretches, destined from their birthto be soldiers of the devil; elected for disgrace and shame; born forNewgate and Bridewell; brought into the world for the whipping post,the cart-tail, and the gallows. Just the same; and I alone changed.For beneath me, all unconscious, was one whom I might call my husband.Then my thoughts went wholly out to him; then I could neither sit norrest, nor stand still with thinking of the next day, and what I had tosay and how to say it. Oh, my love--my dear--could I bear to give himup? could I bear to see him turn away those eyes which had never lookedupon me save with kindness and affection? Could I endure to think thathis love was gone from me altogether? Death was better, if death wouldcome.

  Then, crazed, I think, with trouble, I crept slowly from the room, andwent down the stair till I reached the door of the room where my lordwas lying. And here I went on like a mad thing, having just enoughsense to keep silence, yet weeping without restraint, wringing myhands, praying, offering to Heaven the sacrifice of my life, if only mylover would not harden his heart to me, and kissing the while the verysenseless wood of the door.

  Within the room he was sleeping unconscious; without I was silentlycrying and weeping, full of shame and anxiety, not daring to hope, yetknowing full well his noble heart. Why, had I, weeks before, dared totell him all, forgiveness would have been mine; I knew it well. Yetnow, in such a place, when he was reminded of the companions, or atleast the creatures, who had surrounded her, would he not harden hisheart and refuse to believe that any virtue, any purity, could survive?

  All this was of no avail. When I was calmed a little I returned tomy own room and sat upon the bed, wondering whether any woman was somiserable in her shame as myself.

  The long minutes crept on slowly: the daylight was dawning: the nighthad passed away: Captain Dunquerque had rolled up the stairs noisily,singing a drunken song: the revellers below were quiet, but the morningcarts had begun when I fell asleep for weariness, and when I awoke thesun was high. So I arose, dressed, and hastened downstairs, hoping tosee the Doctor before he sallied forth.

  There had been, Roger told me with a smile, a great night. He meantthat the Doctor's guests had been many, and their calls for punchnumerous. Sir Miles had been carried away to some place in theneighbourhood. The Doctor was still abed.

  While we talked he appeared, no whit the worse for his night'spotations. Yet I thought his face was of a deeper purple than of old,and his neck thicker. That was very likely an idle fancy, because a fewmonths could make but little difference in a man of his fixed habits.

  "Well, Kitty"--he was in good humour, and apparently satisfied with theposition of things--"I have thought over thy discourse of yesterday,which, I confess, greatly moved me: first, because I did not know theeto be a girl of such spirit, courage, and dignity; and second, becauseI now perceive that the marriage, performed in thy interest, wasperhaps, as things have now turned out (which is surely providential),a mistake. Yet was it done for the best, and I repent me not. Come,then, to my lord, and let me talk to him."

  "First, sir," I begged, "tell him not my name."

  He promised this; though, as he said, the name was on the register; andit was agreed between us that we should speak to my lord privately,and then that he was to call me, when I should play my part as best Icould.

  The Doctor led the way. When he entered the room I ran upstairs, andwith trembling hands made myself as fine as I could; that is, I wasbut in morning dishabille, but I dressed my hair, and put those littletouches to my frock and ribbons which every woman understands. And thenI put on my hood, which I pulled quite over my face, and waited.

  My lord rose angrily when he saw the Doctor.

  "Sir," he said, "this visit is an intrusion. I have no business withyou; I do not desire to see you. Leave the room immediately!"

  "First," said Doctor Shovel, "I have business with your lordship."

  "I can have no business with you," replied Lord Chudleigh. "I havealready had too much business with you. Go, sir: your intrusion is aninsult."

  "Dear, dear!" the Doctor replied. "This it is to be young andhot-headed and to jump at conclusions. Whereas, did the young gentlemanknow the things I have to say, he would welcome me with open arms."

  "You come, I suppose, to remind me of a thing of which you ought to betruly ashamed, so wicked was it."

  "Nay, nay; not so wicked as your lordship thinks." The Doctor would notbe put out of temper. "What a benefactor is he who makes young peoplehappy, with the blessing of the Church!"

  "I cannot, I suppose, use violence to this man," said the other. "Heis a clergyman, and, for the sake of his cloth, must be tolerated.Would you kindly, sir, proceed at once to the business you have in handand then begone? If you come to laugh over the misfortune caused byyourself, laugh and go your way. If you come for money for the wretchedaccomplice in your conspiracy, ask it and go. In any case, sir, makehaste."

  "My lord," the Doctor replied, "I am a messenger--from one whoconceives that she hath done you grievous wrong, is very sorry for thepast, which she alone can undo, and begs your forgiveness."

  "Who is that person, then?" His curiosity was roused, and he waited inpatience to hear what the Doctor might have to say.

  "It is, my lord, the lady who may, if she chooses, call herself yourwife."

  My lord stood confused.

  "Does she wish to see me?"

  "She wishes
to place in your hands"--here the Doctor's voice becamedeeper and more musical, like the low notes of a great organ--"theproofs of her marriage with you. Does your lordship comprehend? Shewill stand before you, bringing with her the only papers which existto prove the fact. She will put them in your own hands, if you wish;she will destroy them before your eyes if you wish; and she will thenretire from your presence, and you shall never know, unless you wishit, the name of the woman you married."

  "But.... This is wonderful.... How shall I know that the papers are theonly proof of the ceremony?"

  "Your lordship has my word--my word of a Christian priest. I break thelaws of God and of man daily. I am, however, a sinner who still guardsthose rags and tatters of a conscience which most sinners hasten tothrow away--wherefore must my repentance be some day greater. Yet, mylord, my word I never brake, nor ever looked to hear it questioned.You shall have all the proofs. You shall be free if you please, fromthis moment. You shall never be molested, reproached, threatened, orreminded of the past."

  "Free!" my lord repeated, looking the Doctor in the face. "I cannotbut believe, sir, what you solemnly aver to be the truth. Yet what amI to think of this generosity? how interpret it? By what acts have Ideserved it? What am I to do in return? Is there any pitfall or snarefor me?"

  "In return, you will grant her your forgiveness. That is a pitfall, ifyou please. You will also expect a surprise."

  "Strange!" said Lord Chudleigh. "Kitty asked me, too, to forgive thiswoman. My forgiveness! Does she ask for no money?"

  "My lord, you are utterly deceived in your belief as to this woman andher conduct. By your leave I will tell you the exact truth.

  "You know, because I told you, that the wrong inflicted upon me by yourfather was my justification, from a worldly point of view, for theadvantage which I took of your condition. You think, I suppose, thatsome miserable drab was brought in from the market to play the part ofdummy wife, and threaten you and persecute you for money. You are wrong.

  "There was living in this place at the time, with a lady of ruinedfortunes, a young woman of gentle birth (by her father's side), thoughpenniless. She was beautiful exceedingly, well educated, a God-fearingdamsel, and a good girl. By her mother's side she was my niece, thatbranch of her family being of obscure origin. On the death of herfather she became for a time my ward, which was the reason why shelived here--no fit place for a girl of good reputation, I own, thoughat the time I could do no better for her. She was not only all that Ihave described her in appearance, carriage, and virtues, but she was,as well, very much afraid of me, her guardian. She had been brought upto obey without questioning her spiritual pastors and masters and allwho might be placed in authority over her. This girl it was whom youmarried."

  The Doctor paused, to let his words have due effect.

  "When I designed the treachery, you being then sound asleep, it firstseemed to me that the fitting person for such a revenge as I at firstproposed to myself would be one of those women who are confined to theFleet for life, unless by hook or crook they can get them a husband.Such a one I sent for. I did not disclose the name of the man Iproposed, because I found her only too eager to marry any one upon whomshe could saddle her debts, and so make him either pay them or changeplaces with her. But while I talked with the woman I thought how cruela thing it would be for your lordship to be mated with such a wife,and I resolved, if I did give you a wife against your knowledge, thatshe should be worthy to bear your name. Accordingly I despatched thisperson, who is still, I suppose, languishing in the prison hard by, andsent for the young lady.

  "She came unsuspiciously. I told her with a frown which made hertremble, that she was to obey me in all that I ordered her to do; and Ibade her, then, take her place at the table, and repeat such words as Ishould command. She obeyed. Your lordship knows the rest."

  "But she knew--she must have known--that she was actually married?"

  "She could not understand. She had seen marriages performed; but thenit was in a church, with regular forms. She did not know until I toldher. Besides, I ordered her; and, had my command been to throw herselffrom a high tower, she would have obeyed. She was not yet seventeen;she was country-bred, and she was innocence itself."

  "Poor child," said my lord.

  "She has left the Rules of the Fleet for some time. She knows thatat any time she might claim the name and the honours of your wife,but she has refrained, though she has had hundreds of opportunities.Now, however, she declares that she will be no longer a party to theconspiracy, and she is desirous of restoring, into your own hands, thepapers of the marriage. Will your lordship, first, forgive her?"

  "Tell her," said my lord, "that I forgive her freely. Where is she?"

  "She waits without."

  Then he called me, but not by name.

  My knees trembled and shook beneath me as I rose, pulled the hoodtighter over my face, and followed the Doctor into the room. In my handI held the papers.

  "This," said the Doctor, "is the young gentlewoman of whom we spoke.The papers are in her hands. Child, give his lordship the papers."

  I held them out, and he took them. All this time he never ceased gazingat me; but he could see nothing, not even my eyes.

  "Are we playing a comedy?" he asked. "Doctor Shovel, are we dreaming,all of us?"

  "Everything, my lord is real. You hold in your hands the certificateof marriage and the register. Not copies--the actual documents. Beforeyou read the papers and learn the lady's name, tell her, in my hearing,that you forgive her. She bids me tell you, for her, that since shelearned the thing that she had done, what it meant, and whose happinessit threatened, she has had no happy day."

  "Forgiveness!" said my lord, in a voice strangely moved, while his eyessoftened. "Forgiveness, madam, is a poor word to express what I feel inreturn for this most generous deed. It is a thing for which I can findno word sufficient to let you know how great is my gratitude. Learn,madam, that my heart is bestowed upon a woman whose perfections, to mymind, are such that no man is worthy of her; but she hath graciouslybeen pleased to accept, and even to return my affection. Now by thisact, because I cannot think that we are bound together in the eyes ofthe Church by that form of marriage service----"

  "It is a question," said the Doctor, "which it would task the learningof the whole country to decide. By ecclesiastical law--but let us leavethis question unconsidered. Nothing need ever be said about the matter.Your lordship is free."

  "Then"--he still held the papers in his hand, and seemed in no wayanxious to satisfy his curiosity as to the name of the woman who hadcaused so much anxiety--"before we part, perhaps never to meet again,may I ask to be allowed to see the face of the lady who has performedthis wonderful act of generosity?"

  I trembled, but made no answer.

  "Stay a moment," he said. "Remember that you have given up a goodlyestate, with a large fortune and an ancient name--things which allwomen rightly prize. These things you have given away. Do you repent?"

  I shook my head.

  "Then let me never know"--he tore the papers into a thousandfragments--"let me never know the name of the woman to whom I owe thisgift. Let me think of her as of an angel!"

  The Doctor took me by the arm as if to lead me away.

  "Since you do not want to know her name, my lord, I do not see anyreason why you should. Let us go, child."

  "May I only see her face?" he asked.

  "Come, child," urged the Doctor; "come away. There is no need, my lord."

  But those words about myself, his nobleness, had touched me to theheart. I could deceive him no longer. I threw back the hood, put up myhands to my face, and fell at his feet, crying and sobbing.

  "It is I, my lord! It was Kitty Pleydell herself--the woman whom youthought so good. Oh, forgive me! forgive me! Have pity!"

  Now I seem to have no words to tell how he raised me in his strongarms, how he held me by the waist and kissed me, crying that indeedthere was nothing in his heart towards me but love and tenderness.<
br />
  Would it not be a sin to write down those words of love and endearmentwith which, when the Doctor left us alone, he consoled and soothed me?I hid nothing from him. I told him how I had well-nigh forgotten thedreadful thing I had done until I saw him again at the Assembly; howfrom day to day my conscience smote me more and more, and yet I darednot tell him all--for fear of losing his respect.

  Let us pass this over.

  The story of Kitty is nearly told.

  We forgot all about poor Will and the reason why my lord should for awhile lie close. We agreed that we would be married quietly, in dueform, and of course at church, as soon as arrangements could be made.And then nothing would do but my lord must carry me to Mrs. Esther, andformally ask her permission to the engagement.

  You may think how happy was I to step into the coach which brought meback to my dear lady, with such a companion.

  He led me into her presence with a stately bow.

  "Madam," he said, "I have the honour to ask your permission to takethe hand of your ward, Miss Kitty, who hath been pleased to lend afavourable ear to my proposals. Be assured, dear madam, that we haveseriously weighed and considered the gravity of the step which wepropose to take, and the inclination of our hearts. And I beg you,madam, to believe that my whole life, whether it be long or short,shall be devoted to making this dear girl as happy as it is in thepower of one human creature to make another."

  Mrs. Esther was perfectly equal to the proper ceremonies demandedfor the occasion, although, as she confessed, she was a great dealsurprised at the suddenness of the thing, which, notwithstanding thatshe had expected it for many weeks, came upon her with a shock. Shesaid that his lordship's proposal was one which the world would nodoubt consider a great condescension, seeing that her dear Kitty,though of good family, had no other prospects than the inheritance ofthe few hundreds which made her own income: but, for her own part,knowing this child as she did--and here she spoke in terms of unmeritedpraise of beauty and goodness and such qualities as I could lay butsmall claim to possess, yet resolved to aim at them.

  Finally, she held out her own hand to his lordship, saying--

  "Therefore, my lord, as I consider Kitty my daughter, so henceforthwill I consider you my son. And may God keep and bless you both, andgive you all that the heart of a good man may desire, with childrengood and dutiful, long and peaceful lives, and in the end, to sittogether for ever in happy heaven."

  Whereupon she wept, falling on my neck.

  Now, while we were thus weeping and crying, came Sir Miles, whoimmediately guessed the cause, and wished my lord joy, shaking him bythe hand. Then he must needs kiss my hand.

  "The Doctor," he explained, "told me where I should most likely findyou. The Doctor's knowledge of the human heart is most extensive. Iwould I had the Doctor's head for punch. My lord, this is a lucky day.Will Levett is out of his fever, and hath signed a written confessionthat your sword was drawn in self-defence, and that had he not beenrun through, his cudgel would have beaten out your brains. Thereforethere is no more to keep us in hiding, and we may go about joyfully inthe open, as gentlemen should. And as for Will, he may die or live, asseemeth him best."

  "Nay, Sir Miles," I said. "Pray that the poor lad live and lead abetter life."

  * * * * *

  This is the story of Kitty Pleydell: how she came to London, and livedin the Rules of the Fleet: how she was made to go through the form of amarriage: how she left the dreadful, noisy, wicked place: how she wentto Epsom: how Lord Chudleigh fell in love with her, to her unspeakablehappiness; and how she told him her great secret. The rest, which isthe history of a great and noble man married to a wife whose weaknesswas guided and led by him in the paths of virtue, discretion andgodliness, cannot be told.

  I have told what befell some of the actors in this story--SolomonStallabras, I have explained, married the brewer's widow: Will Levettrecovered and did not repent, but lived a worse life after his narrowescape than before. As for the rest, Mrs. Esther remained with us,either at Chudleigh Court or our town house: Harry Temple was wiseenough to give up pining after what he could not get, and marriedNancy, so that she, too, had her heart's desire: Sir Miles went onalternately gaming and drinking, till he died of an apoplexy at forty.

  * * * * *

  There remains to be told the fate of the Chaplain of the Fleet.When they passed the Marriage Act of 1753, the Fleet weddings weresuddenly stopped. They had been a scandal to the town for more thanforty years, so that it was high time they should be ended. Butwhen the end actually came, the Doctor, who had saved no money, waspenniless. Nor could he earn money in any way whatever, nor had he anyfriends, although there were hundreds of grateful hearts among thepoor creatures around him. Who could contribute to his support exceptourselves?

  Mrs. Esther, on learning his sad condition, instantly wrote to offerhim half her income. My husband, for his part, sent a lawyer among hiscreditors, found out for what sum he could effect a release, paid thismoney, which was no great amount, and sent him his discharge. Then,because the Doctor would have been unhappy out of London, he made hima weekly allowance of five guineas, reckoning that he would live onone guinea, drink two guineas, and give away two. He lived to enjoythis allowance for ten years more, going every night to a coffee-house,where he met his friends, drank punch, told stories, sang songs, andwas the oracle of the company. He took great pride in the positionwhich he had once occupied in the Rules of the Fleet, and was nevertired of boasting how many couples he had made into man and wife.

  I know that his life was disreputable and his pleasures coarse, yetwhen I think of the Doctor and of his many acts of kindness andcharity, I remember certain texts, and I think we have reasonableground for a Christian's hope as regards his deathbed repentance, whichwas as sincere as it was edifying.

  * * * * * *

  Transcriber's note:

  Spelling, punctuation, hyphenation etc have been made consistent thoughnot modernised.