Chapter Six
A mightier Power the strong direction sends,
And several Men impels to several ends:
Like varying winds, by other Passions tost,
This drives them constant to a certain coast.
Let power or knowledge, gold or glory, please,
Or (oft more strong than all) the love of ease;
Through life ‘tis followed, even at life’s expense;
The merchant’s toil, the sage’s indolence,
The monk’s humility, the hero’s pride,
All, all alike, find Reason on their side.
II. iii.
After hiring a horse from the innkeeper, Gideon rode to Pigden, arriving so early in the morning that the dew still coated the grass. Along his way, he was treated to the bright green leaves of spring and the pink and white blossoms of cherry, crab-apple and hawthorn trees. Even with the doubts that plagued him, he could not help feeling joy to be back in Kent.
Avis, the tow-headed stable boy at the Fox and Goose, greeted him with his usual cheer, but he did not seem to think much of Gideon’s mount. “Y’ should see the one that Mr. Barnes bought ye. He’s a right sharp prancer, he is. Not like that bone-shaker yer on.”
“I am relieved to hear that Tom has kept himself busy,” Gideon said, handing Avis the reins. “But you needn’t worry that I mean to foist this horse on you. I wouldn’t stand his gait for another minute if he were the last beast on earth. But I will ask you to return him to the inn at Lydd for me. Where’s Tom?”
Avis had no need to answer, for at that moment Tom came hurtling down the stairs into the yard. The extreme relief on his face changed quickly into a scowl, which made Gideon laugh.
“So, there you are,” Tom grumbled, before adding a belated, “sir. I was afeared you’d been swallowed up in that Channel. You might have let me know you’d be coming so I could make things ready for you.”
“And miss one of your scoldings? When they are one of the few pleasures remaining in my life? Now, why should I want to do that?” Gideon crossed the yard to clap Tom on the shoulder. He was happier to see Tom than he would ever admit. “Come and help me off with these boots. We have a few things to discuss.”
Upstairs in his bedchamber he found more than ample evidence of the work Tom had done. And Katy, too, Gideon realized. He would have to compliment the girl on her skill, for surely Tom had never managed to arrange all this finery on his own.
His new feather bed had been hung with velvet curtains. A wash-hand stand with a ewer and basin, a dressing table with a damask-covered stool, and a console with pewter candlesticks had been added since he left. He crossed the room to open the armoire and found its shelves filled with coats, shirts, undergarments and periwigs, all waiting as if he had left them there himself.
With a sense of wonder, he realized that he felt as if this place were his home. Unsettled by the thought, he did not know whether to laugh or shudder.
He returned to the bed and stretched out on his back so Tom could pull off his boots. Then, before he could break the news that he meant to leave again, Tom told him about the strange visitor to the inn.
“So Lade offers shelter to Jacobites,” Gideon mused. He turned on his side and propped his head on one elbow. “I should not be surprised to hear it, knowing how violent his reactions are whenever the Pretender is mentioned. You say the gentleman questioned you about me?”
“Aye, and he seemed awful eager to meet you, too. I didn’t like it one bit.”
“Hmm.... Still, I don’t think we have anything to fear. He would hardly want to draw attention to himself. And if he were to discover who I am, by chance, I could easily report him as a traitor. That might even earn me a reprieve.” He thought aloud, “I wonder what his particular mission was.”
“Seems like he comes through two or three times a year. Lade says that whenever he’s around, there’s sure to be trouble up in London. And the worst of it is that he acts like he owns the place.” Tom gave an indignant snort.
“Well, I imagine he’s been the only gentleman to stop here until we came, so he must be accustomed to having all of Lade’s attention.”
“But that blackguard wanted to put him in your room! I told him it was taken for through the year, and that everything in it was yours. And I told him that he had no call to order the servants about for they’re yours now, too.”
“He ordered you to wait on him?”
Tom eyes became strangely evasive. When he finally gave an answer, he nearly choked. “No, it was Katy—the wench. He asked for her to be sent up. But you put me in charge and I won’t have such goings on in a gentleman’s house! It’s not seemly!”
Gideon raised a brow. There seemed to be more to this story than Tom was willing to tell. When his groom returned him a glowering look, though, he merely smiled. “Unseemly? Well, I’m sure you’re right. I shouldn’t like Lade to turn my chamber into a bordello while I’m away. Besides, he would attract more strangers with an attractive inducement like that.”
His answer helped to smooth Tom’s embarrassment. Then, to change the subject, and because he needed to get back on the road as soon as possible, he asked Tom if he’d heard anything about the disturbances in London or anywhere else around the country—whether, for instance, he had seen any sign of unrest when making trips into Maidstone.
“No.” Tom’s blunt response reflected his astonishment on being asked. “I haven’t seen nothing like that, my lord.”
Gideon knitted his brow. “According to some very influential people, a goodly part of the country is ready to rise for King James.”
“You’re not going to mix yourself up with any of that, are you, my lord?” Tom’s eyes had filled with horror.
The only answer Gideon could make him was, “I’m afraid I must go to London, Tom.” He rose reluctantly from the comfortable bed, ignoring both his desire for sleep and Tom’s stammered protests. “I have to find a man and speak to him—without being recognized, of course. I shall have to try a different disguise.”
“I don’t like the sound of this, Master Gideon. Not one bit. What if we’re spotted?”
Now he had to meet Tom’s anxious gaze. “I shall not be taking you with me.” Gideon spoke quickly to stem the argument that was sure to follow. “I know you want to go, and I shall send for you as soon as I know if I’m stopping. But chances are that I shall be riding straight back to France. And two men are more noticeable than one.”
“Except when that one has a price on his head! Aye, and speaks like a gen’leman, who wouldn’t travel without his servants with him!”
“That can’t be helped. You have my word that I shall send for you if I decide to remain for any considerable time. And, if I do, then I am certain to want you. Now—let’s see what sort of garments Katy has made for me.”
Searching through them, he found a sober coat and breeches that looked precisely the sort of thing a Mr. Brown would wear. It required no more than a few finishing stitches from Katy to make it fit, while Tom looked on with a sullen eye. A short, bobbed wig, in a style a viscount would rather die than be seen in, would complete Gideon’s costume, along with an application of powder to his face and ashes rubbed into his eyebrows to make them a charcoal grey. Dressed like this, he knew that no gentleman or lady of his acquaintance would waste a moment on the common figure he would present.
As Katy packed up a few shirts, some plain cloth cravats, drawers, and stockings, he went to examine the new horse Tom had found for him. It was a strong gelding of over fifteen hands with a gentle temperament, but Tom assured him that the horse loved to go.
“Just you put him through his paces, sir, and you’ll see. Don’t let him fool you. He’s not as meek as he looks. He’s got a spot of mischief in him, which I’m sure you’ll like.”
Tom refused to elaborate, so Gideon put himself on guard to be ready for the horse’s tricks.
Before leaving, he did not forget to pay a visit to Penny, his mare, who
stomped and whickered angrily when she saw him.
“Irked with me, my love? But I thought we were agreed that you are much too pretty not to be noticed. Are you giving her enough exercise, Tom?”
“I don’t go risking my neck over ditches with her, if that’s what you mean. But I let her have a good run every time I take her out.”
“Poor beauty,” Gideon said, as she dropped her head affectionately into his hands. He rubbed the soft velvet nose then whispered in her ear, “I’ll come back soon, and then we’ll have a good jump or two. I promise.” Tom, like most grooms disapproved of jumping a horse and saw no use in the exercise, but the danger in it could not fail to appeal to Gideon, and surprisingly, Penny agreed.
Her beautiful copper coat had been recognized when Gideon had stopped his cousin’s coach in the disguise of a highwayman, the act which had given rise to the name Blue Satan, a result of the blue satin cape he had worn. Fortunately, Mrs. Kean and his old coachman had both covered for him, claiming that the highwayman’s horse had been a bay, but Gideon could not risk exposing such an easily spotted animal to view. It sometimes seemed that even the few things he had managed to bring away would be taken from him, or at least the pleasure of using them. He tried to keep it foremost in his mind that James had promised to restore him fully to his place.
He left that very evening, giving Tom a purse of gold and silver coins with which to manage Lade, and promising to send news of his whereabouts. His last glimpse of his faithful groom showed a man who had nothing to do but fret.
It was not Gideon’s intention to drive Tom away, but he could not help believing that it would be best if Tom grew tired of waiting for his master to be settled and tried to find another life. Particularly now, when Gideon had to worry what might become of his faithful servant if he were ever caught acting on the Pretender’s behalf.
Over the next day and a half, as he rode through Kent towards London, he found himself pleased with his new horse’s endurance. Preferring not to stop at too many places on the road, and satisfied that this horse could stand the distance, Gideon ended by riding it all the way to the city. He whiled away part of his journey in trying to think up a new name for it, but nothing seemed right. Then, on the second day Gideon stopped to eat at an inn, which was known to cater to Whigs and, therefore, had not been one of his regular stops. When his horse shied at the sight of a pig in the innkeeper’s pen and then tried to bite it through the fence, Gideon called him a great looby, so Looby he became.
They traveled on to London. Gideon knew his greatest risk would come in crossing the Thames, for there he would be thrown amongst nearly every man, woman and child, coming into the City. Rich and poor, master and servant, all had to make their way across London Bridge.
Just a mile short of it, as the traffic on horse and foot and the number of carriages grew denser, he fell into conversation with a vintner. As soon as he had ascertained the man’s trade, he proclaimed himself to be a wool merchant. As they crossed the bridge, he was able to discourse on the evils of the Customs duties as they affected the sale of wool abroad, and the outlawed Viscount St. Mars, with a price on his head, passed into the City of London with no one the wiser.
He stabled his horse at one end of Cow Cross, west of Smithfield, and took a room at the White Horse, which was far enough away from the sheep pens to escape the worst of their stench. He might have stayed closer to his destination, but Smithfield offered a particular convenience for outlaws, since the streets about it were so full of twists and turns as to facilitate escape.
He ate his dinner at a local cook shop and purchased a few news-sheets to see what news he had missed. There had been quite a fuss about the Foot-Guards’ new uniforms, for the Duke of Marlborough and the factor who had undertaken to provide them had taken the trouble to publish a vindication of their parts in the scandal. Gideon was aware of the Foot-Guards’ reputation, but he failed to see how these complaints could benefit James.
Something far more important then caught his eye. An advertisement for a pamphlet on The Conduct of his Grace the Duke of Ormonde, in the Campaign of 1712, which could only be an attack by the Whigs. He saw further down that the Tories had responded with A Vindication of the late Queen Anne, of glorious Memory; of his Grace the Duke of Ormonde; and of the late Ministry, but the fact that the Whigs had turned the same vicious attention on the Duke that they had directed against Viscount Bolingbroke, a former Tory minister, before his impeachment was an ominous sign.
Ormonde was in danger. Gideon did not know if the government would manage to try the popular general, but that was clearly their intent. He wondered if James had any notion that the man who was to lead his army might soon be thrown in the Tower.
He had no time to lose if he was going to speak to Ormonde.
The sun was setting, so he started the walk to Ormonde House, down to Holborne, across the bridge, and through Lincoln’s Inn Fields. As he passed a house facing the Fields, he was thrown off his stride by the emergence of Lord Cowper, the Lord Chancellor, in the company of Herr Bernstorff, one of King George’s Hanoverians. As they descended the steps, Gideon was forced to continue on past them.
Either man could have recognized him with one close look, but as he had hoped, except for a casual glance to be assured that he posed no threat, neither one spared an apparent merchant a second thought.
The incident rattled him, however. If the men had been more familiar with him, would something about his person have given him away? He decided it would be best to alter his gait and his posture. A wool merchant, intent upon his business, would neither stride with the arrogance of an aristocrat nor hide his face like a felon under charges. Gideon hoped he could achieve a semblance of the modesty and purpose appropriate to the honest merchant he wanted to appear.
Drawing near Piccadilly, he felt the endless pull of Hawkhurst House. But he did not dare walk that way, for he would court not only the certain risk of being recognized, but also a longing he would find too hard to hide.
In the end, no matter how much he preferred to walk to stretch his legs after a two-day ride, he hired a chair the rest of the way to St. James’s Square, aware of the need for curtains to shield him from any of his acquaintance who might be coming out of the King’s Theatre at this hour.
It was not yet dark enough to fear an assault. A merchant, who would be presumed to be outside his own neighbourhood, could easily fall prey to a group of Mohawks—or Hawkubites as they were sometimes called. The names of these gangs had been taken from the Red tribes in the colonies, but they were made up of young aristocrats who had a taste for hurting people, particularly the weak and the helpless. One group had even been known to beat old women to death, but with the Watch made up of old men, who were too frail to take them on, these young vandals were seldom caught.
Arriving in St. James’s Square, Gideon had the chairmen set him down on the south side, at the back of the houses facing Pall Mall Street. This was the farthest distance from Ormonde House, but he had been warned that government spies could be keeping an eye on the Duke’s visitors. So, while reaching into his pocket to pay the chairmen, he stole a furtive look about, but he saw no one who appeared to fill the role of spy.
St. James’s Square was now the most fashionable address in town. It had been developed by the Earl of St. Albans, who perceived a need for adequate housing for aristocrats who wanted to spend more of their time at Court. The earl had sold his own house to the first Duke of Ormonde, and since the Duke’s death, it had been occupied by the family of his grandson and successor, James Butler, the second duke and military hero. Spanning the width of three houses, Ormonde House was by far the largest one facing the piazza. It dominated the rest, but every house on the square lodged a peer.
Gideon was glad that his ancestors had built on a different site, for this piazza had become a convenient place for the parish to dump refuse. The glittering salons in which the Norfolks, Ormondes, Kents, and Pembrokes gave balls and banquets all looked
out onto heaps of ashes, dung, and animal carcasses, as well as a shed that someone had built on the square to collect and sell rubbish. The remains of the fireworks that had been set off for the King’s birthday celebration still littered the square. The odour coming from the filthy combination should have been enough to chase off even the meanest of spies.
It was so distracting, in fact, that it took Gideon a moment to realize he had made an error in picking such a sociable hour. The plays had just ended. Groups of ladies and gentlemen were making their way to their evening’s entertainment. Lights from some of the mansions, the occasional opening and closing of a door, and visitors descending from chairs announced that more than one supper or card party was taking place in the square tonight.
Luckily, the onset of darkness was on his side. The oil lamps were only now being lit. Nevertheless, he could make out the identity of some of the arrivals by the sound of their voices. He wished he had padded his coat to disguise his young man’s physique, but decided that a crooked back and stiff gait would age him enough. He assumed this posture as he circled the piazza.
The Duke’s house was scarcely lit as Gideon pulled on the bell to the porter’s lodge and waited for the servant to answer.
A faint sound of footsteps coming through the heavy portal heralded a servant’s arrival. Gideon gave the porter a false name and asked to see the Duke.
But Ormonde was out. The carefree porter, an Irishman from the Ormonde estate, could not be brought to say where his master had gone or guess the hour of his return. He asked Gideon to state his business, and Gideon gave the answer Madame de Mézières had told him to use.
“I have important news for his Grace concerning his cousin Jonathan.”
The porter became instantly alert, although he volunteered no more information than before. Whether he understood the Jacobite’s code name for James or not, he did at least seem to think that Gideon’s visit would be important to his master, for he asked if Gideon wished to leave a note.
The Spider's Touch Page 11
