'Would you mind so very much, if you had to leave the theatre?' he asked slowly.
She stared at him, and then blushed, thinking he referred to the possibility of her marrying Robert, and laughed a trifle breathlessly.
'I am foolish! Six months ago I was overjoyed to be allowed merely to walk onto the stage, and now it seems as though I wish to play all the leading parts. I am not so discontented as I must appear, I assure you. I enjoy it, I am ambitious to try greater parts, but no, I do not think I would be inconsolable were I to leave the theatre. Not that I have any intention of doing so, yet,' she added quickly, and began to talk of the comet which had recently appeared in London, asking him if he believed it was a sign of great happenings, as was generally supposed.
He made a light reply, and suggested they might stay up one night when the sky was clear to see the comet. The excitement of this, and new plays, and the news that the Dutch had recaptured the ports taken earlier by Holmes, made the days pass quickly, and it was with some surprise that Honey saw Robert one day late in February, and realised that he had been away for almost three months.
It was as usual after one of the performances, in the green room, and she greeted him warmly. She had been taking no part that day, and had been on her way home when Robert had arrived. He immediately suggested they went to their favourite tavern nearby, and anxious to hear his news she nodded eagerly, pulling her cloak firmly about her, for it was an exceptionally cold day of what had been an unusually harsh winter. There were no horses in the streets, since the cobbles were glazed with ice, and Robert held Honey firmly with an arm about her waist as they walked along, laughingly saying he had almost been able to walk back across the North Sea, and the Dutch might soon be able to march across if the freezing weather continued.
'When did you arrive?' she asked, anxious to know his news yet fearful of what it might be.
'Two days since, at Harwich. It has been a slow business getting to London, for the roads are deadly. Honey, where is Dunstone?'
'He has gone away, yesterday, but I know not where,' she replied. 'What did you discover? Tell me quickly!'
Robert looked at her closely.
'He does not mean so much to you, does he?' he asked, taking her hand in his.
'He has been kind!'
'I know, but why I can only surmise! Honey, my dear, I found two men who swear he was in Holland last year, selling our naval plans to the Dutch. There can be no doubt! I have letters from them denouncing him, which I must present to the Duke of York, so he can be prevented from betraying us again now war is certain to be declared this year!'
*
Chapter 7
Aghast, Honey stared at Robert, and then slowly shook her head.
'I do not believe it!' she whispered. 'He could not! Oh, indeed, he could not!'
Robert sighed, and produced a small packet of letters from his pocket. Without speaking he handed them to Honey, but she shrank away from them, refusing to touch them.
'Are you so biased towards him you refuse to accept the proof?' he asked bitterly.
'I cannot read them,' she answered, in so low a voice he had to bend towards her to catch what she said. 'Surely they are sent for the Duke, if they are what you say?'
'Aye. But unless you see them you are never like to believe me!'
Honey stood up suddenly.
'I will believe only Gervase,' she announced, and before Robert realised what she was about to do, had turned and run from the room.
She found it difficult to walk on the icy roads, but she made her way swiftly enough to her lodgings. Once inside the door she leant against the wall, breathing heavily, and summoning up the courage to do what she had determined on, and ask Gervase outright what the truth was. However certain Robert appeared to be, Honey knew she could not believe his tale unless Gervase himself confirmed it. All along she had hoped, indeed she had been certain, that it would turn out to be false. So strong had her faith been she was utterly unprepared for the dismay, the horror, that proof would bring her.
'It cannot be. It must be some mistake,' she said to herself, and then fiercely blinked away the tears and started to climb the stairs towards Gervase's room.
Reaching it, she sniffed furiously, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. His voice bade her to enter, and she lifted the latch and walked firmly in.
Gervase was seated at a table, writing, but he looked up and smiled, waving her to a chair and reaching for a bottle of wine that stood on the table.
'Sit down, Honey. How did the play go?'
Honey looked at him blankly, for she had completely forgotten the afternoon's performance.
'Oh, well, I suppose,' she answered at last.
'I have almost completed the play I spoke of, and the part I have in mind for you promises well. Perhaps we can read it over tomorrow?'
'I do not know.'
'What is it?' he asked, disturbed by her manner. 'Is there some trouble at the theatre?'
'Trouble? Why, no. That is, not at the theatre. I do not know, Gervase!'
He was standing now, looking down at her in perplexity, and he narrowed his eyes at the use of his name, for she did not normally address him so, yet she did not seem conscious of what she had done.
'What is it?' he asked, more brusquely than he intended, for her distrait air was beginning to worry him.
'Why were you in Holland?' she burst out suddenly, looking at him fully for the first time since she had entered the room.
He stared at her for a moment, then turned away.
'Who says I was?' he asked coolly.
'Robert has seen you there, when he has been trading for his father.'
'Mr Reade?' he asked sharply. 'Trading, you say? Why should he trade when we are effectually at war with Holland?'
This seemed irrelevant to Honey.
'His father has connections with the Merchant Adventurers, and they have had some serious losses, I understand, and he must do what he can. Why should he not trade there?'
'Why not, indeed!' he said grimly.
'What were you doing?' she repeated.
'I take it Mr Reade has set you on to ask these questions? Dare he not approach me himself? What is his interest in my doings?' he asked angrily.
Honey looked at him pleadingly.
'I would not believe him,' she said with difficulty.
'It is none of his business. Indeed, your Mr Reade would appear to be a great deal too busy in affairs that do not concern him,' he said contemptuously.
Honey did not hear the contempt in his voice, only the anger, and she bowed her head, afraid to look at him for fear she would see guilt in his face.
'What is his interest in my doings?' Gervase continued curtly. 'Why does it matter to him whether I go to Holland or no?'
Honey took a deep breath, and glanced up at him briefly.
'He thinks you are a spy,' she said flatly.
To her astonishment Gervase laughed.
'Do you?' he asked quickly.
'I do not know what to think! He says he has proof, letters from men you have been dealing with in Holland, letters to the Duke of York. Gervase, say it is not true!' she pleaded, looking at him fully at last.
He gazed down at her, an inscrutable expression on his face.
'Does it mean so much to you?' he asked at last. 'Why are you so concerned?'
'How can I not be concerned?' she rejoined hotly, stung into anger by his own lack of concern, the absence of any appearance of guilt. 'If there is some other explanation, why do you not tell me?'
'Honey, I cannot tell you what my reasons are for what I do, nor what I don't do, so please will you forget it? Mr Reade has no right to use you as an intermediary if he wishes to question me on what are, after all, my affairs. Pray tell him to come directly to me in future. Now, can we not pretend this never happened, and talk of pleasanter matters? Shall we remain here for supper, or go out? What would you prefer?'
*
Honey stumbl
ed to her feet, incredulous he should make no effort to deny the charge she had made, but instead seemed to treat it as of little moment. She shook her head.
'I cannot,' she said breathlessly. 'I prefer to be alone, if you please.'
He stepped towards her, unable to bear the misery in her eyes, and instinctively wanting to take her in his arms and soothe away the trouble, whatever it was. Having resolved not to declare his love too soon, he forgot this intention in the face of her obvious unhappiness, and put out his hands to take her by the shoulders, only to be brought up short by the look of fear in her eyes, and the quick shrinking away from him.
'Honey, what is it?' he demanded urgently, but she gave a strangled little sob and ran for the door. He took one step, and then halted, realising the futility of trying to talk with her while she so obviously wished to avoid him.
'I am going,' she said distractedly, and dragged open the door.
He let her go, and she ran up the stairs to her own room, to collapse in a flood of tears on her bed. So it was true! He had not denied it. He had not even seemed to think it particularly reprehensible, and was in no degree ashamed of it. Her image of Gervase, who had rescued her so dramatically on that first occasion when she had visited the theatre, and appeared again to solve her difficulties on the next, was shattered. She had thought of him as so magnificent, so far above her with his Court friends, and his easy familiarity with the actors, as well as his own writing, that the discovery of his perfidy shook her intensely. She did not analyse her more personal feelings towards him, for she had never dared to think of him as other than a grand protector, someone to be relied on always. The idea he might have been attracted to her would have struck her as so highly improbable as to cause laughter, and she had never entertained the idea. Besides, her mind had been so taken up with the thought of Robert and his possible intentions she had never considered another man, dismissing all the admirers at the theatre as mere flirts.
Robert had once warned her Gervase would not consider marriage, but as she had never remotely considered it herself in connection with him, she had instantly dismissed the idea, thinking only, with some satisfaction, that Robert must be deeply jealous to have even imagined such a possibility.
So now she put all her distress down to the discovery he was not as perfect as she had imagined. When the first storm of weeping was over, she began to consider what it would be best to do. She could not now remain in the same house, she determined, and would seek for new lodgings the very next day. Not nearly so comforted by this decision as she ought to have been, she undressed, and climbed into bed where, exhausted by her emotional storm, she fell into a deep sleep.
*
Gervase stood for several minutes looking after her, and then sat down at his table again. Wearily he pushed aside the papers, and sat, head resting on his hands, staring sightlessly out of the window. He supposed he could be called a spy, with his recent activities in Holland, but why should she take such exception to that? It was odd that the very idea of it made her shrink from him. Perhaps it was the shock of a sudden discovery, and when she had been given time to become accustomed to the idea she would not regard him with such loathing, but realise his actions were as much a part of warfare as taking part in a cavalry charge or manning a gun aboard ship.
As he was brooding on this, Mistress Betsy came to say a messenger was waiting to see him. It turned out to be one of the men employed by his uncle, and he brought a summons for him to attend a meeting at Whitehall Palace immediately. Sighing, he reached for his cloak and accompanied the man, hoping that the meeting would not take too much time, and he would be able to return to talk again to Honey that night.
There were several men in the room to which he was conducted, and his uncle asked him to give an account of what he had discovered in Holland. Afterwards the other men departed, and his uncle indicated the wine and glasses on a side table.
'Let us drink while we talk. It has been decided to proclaim the war in a few days from now. We are as ready as we may be, and must go out and attack the Dutch as soon as possible, for matters grow worse between us. You know they have prohibited all imports from England, and issued letters of marque. That cannot be stomached. Your visits to Holland have been much appreciated, and I am commanded to send you again, to discover what they intend when the East India fleet returns this year. We do not wish them to evade us again!'
'When do you wish me to go?'
'Immediately, before the proclamation is made. There is a boat at Greenwich which can take you before daylight. Go home and pack what you need, and meet me at Tower Wharf in two hours. I will have all else for you, and there is a barge waiting to take you down the river.'
Grimly Gervase nodded. He could not expect to delay for his own private affairs, but this mission came at a most difficult time, for he could scarcely hope to have an explanation with Honey in the short time before he must sail.
He went home as swiftly as the frozen streets permitted, and rapidly packed all he needed, then he went up the stairs to Honey's room and tapped on the door. There was no reply, nor to a louder knock, and he descended to the kitchen to ask Mistress Betsy if she knew where Honey was.
'I think she's out, Mr Dunstone, for she had no supper. Ben told me he would be out, so mayhap they've gone somewhere together. Did you want anything in particular?'
'It was not important, merely that I must go away tonight for a few days, and wished to give her a message. I will write a note, and you can give it to her.'
Mistress Betsy shook her head in sorrow at the thought of his being forced to travel in such weather but she promised to deliver the note without fail in the morning, and Gervase went off to write it, finding it so uncommonly difficult to compose that in the end he produced only a stilted epistle asking Honey to suspend judgement on him until after he could explain himself to her more fully, which he expected to be able to do shortly.
Dissatisfied, he had to leave it, for if he were late meeting his uncle he might miss the tide, and that could be a serious matter. He had to reach Holland before news of an official declaration of war did so.
*
Honey slept late the following morning, and had only just received Gervase's note when Robert arrived.
'Well?' he demanded. 'Was it to see him you ran away last night?'
'He did not deny it,' Honey said in a low, strained voice. 'I have just received this.'
She handed him the note, and he skimmed quickly through it.
'He does not say why he wrote it.'
'Mistress Carter told me he went away for a few days, but she did not know where.'
'Away? Then that settles it, do you not see? You accused him, and he has taken flight, with this message promising an explanation which we know is impossible to persuade you to delay a little before denouncing him!'
'But I cannot denounce him!' Honey cried in horror.
'Of course not, but he was not to know that. I wonder if he has gone to Holland? If so, I ought to follow him, for fear he carries information to our enemies. If I could come up with him I could forestall him. Honey, my dear, I must go. Let us hope that once this matter is dealt with I shall have opportunity to carry out my private wishes!'
'I was intending to move my lodgings,' she said listlessly.
'No! You must not. If I do not reach him, or have been wrong in thinking he travels to Holland, and he returns here, that would frighten him! You will be safe, never fear, but you should stay.'
Honey shrugged. The shocks and perplexities, followed by a long but unrefreshing sleep, had left her indifferent even to the news Robert was going again from London. Even his parting promise that when he next saw her he would have more personal business to discuss could not alleviate the sense of hopelessness under which she suffered, and she bade him farewell with a faint smile, feeling pleased to be alone when he had gone.
*
In a while she roused herself sufficiently to go to the theatre, hoping it would take her mind
off her troubles, but every part of the building, and every person in it, brought back some memory of Gervase, and she found it as much as she could do to prevent herself from dissolving into tears.
This mood was not helped by the news Tom Killigrew was considering some new plays and wanted to change the casts of some of the old established ones. Nell was bubbling over with enthusiasm at the prospect of better parts, and if she had her way a breeches part at last. A casting rehearsal was announced for the following morning, and the players sent home to learn speeches for it. Honey had been given several speeches, both in comedies and tragedies, and she made a valiant attempt to learn them, but the image of Gervase kept intruding between her and the printed sheets and hindering her concentration. There were images of him mounted on Satan, lounging negligently in the green room as he watched her or talked with the other actors, sitting writing at his desk, shaking his head as he corrected her interpretation of the speeches she practised with him, and the warmth of the smile he seldom permitted her to see.
It was better in the morning, and when Honey rose early after a sleepless night she was able to con the speeches rather more to her satisfaction, but she knew her performance was inadequate before Tom Killigrew spoke to her.
'What is the matter, lass?' he demanded bluntly. 'Are you ill?'
Honey shook her head.
'No, Mr Killigrew.'
'Then why were you so bad?'
Honey could offer no explanation, and he shook his head regretfully.
'I had hoped to give you the part of Cydaria, Montezuma's daughter, in Dryden's piece, "The Indian Emperor",' he said slowly, 'but I cannot think you are capable of it. Pity, I had hoped you could do tragic parts. Well, some smaller ones as yet, hey, and another opportunity later perhaps if you do well in them.'
Honey did not really care, and when she heard Nell had been given the part of Cydaria, she brushed aside Nell's anxious enquiries and reassured her she was not in the least jealous, and only happy for her friend to have an important part at last.
Player's Wench Page 9
