“What! Is Sir Jocelyn a prisoner in the Fleet?” exclaimed Aveline. “I knew it not!”
“He is; but the period of his deliverance approaches,” replied Gillian. “The secret friend I spoke of has bided his time, and the hour is at hand when full measure of revenge will be dealt upon those two wicked oppressors. He has long worked towards it; and I myself, am to be an humble instrument towards the great end.”
“You astonish me!” cried Aveline, greatly surprised at the change in the damsel’s manner as well as by what she said.
“Do not perplex yourself, fair mistress,” pursued Gillian. “All will be speedily made known to you. But now, no more time must be lost, and we must each assume the character we have to enact. As I am to be the bride, and you the tire-woman, you must condescend to aid me in putting on these rich robes and then disguise yourself in my rustic attire. We are both pretty nearly of a size, so there is little risk of detection in that particular; and if you can but conceal your features for a short while, on Sir Francis’s entrance, the trick will never be discovered. All the rest has been arranged; and I am a mere puppet in the hands of others, to be played as they direct. Bless us! how beautiful this dress is, to-be-sure! — what satin! — and what lace! The Countess of Exeter has just such another. Have you heard that her ladyship has gained her cause against those wicked Lakes, who conspired against her? But what am I saying — when I know you cannot have heard of it! Well, then, it occupied five days in the Star-Chamber; and Sir Thomas and his lady are sent to the Tower, and Sarah Swarton to the Fleet. Poor creature! she is to be whipped and branded, and to do penance in Saint Martin’s church. Dreadful! but I won’t think of it. I wonder how this dress will become me! How astounded Dick Taverner would be, if he could only see me in it! Mayhap he will — there’s no saying. And now, fair mistress, may I crave your aid?”
While Gillian was thus running on, she had partially disrobed herself, and very soon afterwards was decked out in the rich attire, the effect of which upon her own person she was so desirous of ascertaining. When her toilet was complete, she could not help running up to a mirror, and on seeing the reflection of her well-formed figure now displayed to unwonted advantage, she clapped her hands and cried out with girlish delight.
Allowing her to gratify her feelings of vanity by the contemplation of her pretty person for a few minutes, Aveline felt it necessary to recal her to her situation, and her own transformation into the tire-woman was speedily effected, — Gillian’s dress fitting her exactly. The light-hearted damsel was quite as much pleased with this change as with the other — and vowed that Aveline looked far better in the rustic gown, than she herself did in the silken attire.
But time pressed; and as Sir Francis might surprise them, they hastened to complete their arrangements. Gillian’s comely features, as well as her sumptuous robe, had to be obscured by the envious veil; and as it was thrown over her, she could not help heaving a sigh. Aveline then put on the muffler which had been worn by the country damsel, and their disguises were complete.
Not a minute too soon. At this juncture a tap was heard at a door communicating with the adjoining apartment, and the voice of the old usurer was heard inquiring whether his bride was ready. An answer in the affirmative was given by Aveline, and, with a throbbing heart and faltering steps, Gillian prepared to obey the summons.
The door was thrown open, and mustering up all her resolution, she passed through it. Both Sir Francis and his partner were waiting to receive her. The latter was richly attired, but had not changed the sombre hue of his habiliments, even for the anticipated ceremonial, being clad, as usual, in black. In this respect he offered marked contrast to the gay apparel of the antiquated bridegroom, as well as by the calmness of his deportment and the stern gravity of his looks. Behind them stood Luke Hatton, bearing a heavy silver coffer, of antique workmanship.
“What means this veil?” cried Sir Giles, gazing suspiciously at Gillian as she emerged from the inner room, followed cautiously by Aveline, who was wrapped in the muffler. “Why are the bride’s features thus hidden?”
“A mere whim, Sir Giles — a pleasant fancy,” replied the old usurer. “But she must have her way. I mean to indulge her in everything.”
“You are wrong,” rejoined the extortioner. “Make her feel you will be her master. Bid her take it off.”
“On no account whatever, Sir Giles. I have only won her by submission, and shall I spoil all at the last moment, by opposing her inclinations? Of a truth not.”
“Who is the maiden with her?” demanded Sir Giles, scrutinizing Aveline, with a keen glance. “Why does she wear a muffler? Is that a whim, likewise?”
“Perchance it is,” replied Sir Francis; “but I have given no consent to it. She is only the tire-woman.”
“Come, mistress, unmuffle. Let us see your face,” cried Sir Giles, striding towards the terrified maiden, who thought discovery was now inevitable.
But Luke Hatton interposed to save her.
“Prevent this rudeness,” he whispered, plucking Sir Francis’s cloak. “Prevent it instantly. If her whim be thwarted, I will not answer for the consequences.”
“Desist, Sir Giles — desist, I pray you!” cried the old usurer, in alarm. “It is my bride’s wish that her attendant be not interfered with — and mine too.”
“Well, be it as you will,” replied the extortioner, testily. “But I would not permit the impertinence were I in your case. The bride must raise her veil when she stands before the priest.”
“She shall do as she pleases,” replied Sir Francis, gallantly. “If she desires to hide her blushes, I will not put any compulsion upon her to disclose them. Come, fair mistress,” he added, taking the trembling hand of the veiled maiden, “the priest awaits us in the further chamber, where the ceremony is to take place, and where several of the noble and illustrious guests who have consented to grace our nuptials are already assembled. Some of the most illustrious personages in the land will be present — the Marquis of Buckingham, and perhaps Prince Charles himself. His Excellency the Spanish Ambassador has promised to come. Let us on, then. Yet, ere we proceed further, I have to request your acceptance of that silver coffer. The thirty thousand marks within it constitute your dowry.”
As he spoke Luke Hatton advanced, and, holding the coffer towards the veiled damsel, so that she could touch it, said— “Place your hand upon this silver box, and take possession of it, fair mistress. I am a witness that Sir Francis Mitchell has freely bestowed it, with its contents, upon you. It will remain in my custody till you require me to deliver it up to you.”
CHAPTER XXX.
How the Marriage was interrupted.
After the presentation of the silver casket, as before described, the whole of the bridal party, with the exception of Aveline, who contrived to remain behind, passed on into the adjoining chamber, where the priest was understood to be in waiting to perform the marriage ceremony.
Apprehensive of the consequences of the discovery which must inevitably be soon made, Aveline would have flown back to her own room, but was deterred, from the strange noises and confusion she heard within it. Uncertain how to act, she at last resolved upon attempting an escape from the house, and was hurrying forward, in the hope of gaining the corridor unperceived, but the sound of voices outside again drove her back; and, in this new dilemma, she had nothing left but to take refuge behind the tapestry covering the walls, which being fortunately loose and hanging upon the ground, effectually concealed her.
Scarcely was she screened from observation in this manner, when the door was thrown open, and a crowd of young gallants — evidently, from their bearing and the richness of their attire, of high rank — entered the apartment. Without exposing herself, Aveline was enabled, through the folds of the tapestry, to command a view of what was going forward. The youthful nobles — for such they were — who had just come in, were laughing loudly; and their jests were chiefly at the expense of the old usurer, whose marriage they had been
invited to attend.
After looking round for a moment, as if in search of some one to direct them whither to go, the foremost of them clapped his hands, whereupon the thick curtains which, in lieu of a door, guarded the entrance to the other room, were drawn aside, and disclosed a group of persons collected together within that chamber. In the midst of them were the bride and bridegroom — the former still enveloped in her veil — together with the priest and his assistant. At this sight, the band of youthful nobles set up a shout of laughter, and rushed tumultuously forward, while the curtains, dropping to their place, closed upon the scene.
Presently the outer door again opened, and this time to admit three persons, all of whom were magnificently dressed, and apparently of yet higher rank than those who had preceded them. As they were masked, their features could not be discerned; but they were all distinguished by rare personal grace. One of them, indeed, was remarkable for symmetry of figure, and his finely-proportioned limbs were arrayed in habiliments of the most splendid material, adorned with pearls and precious stones, and richly embroidered. Yet he did not seem to hold the chief place among them: that, by common consent, seemed accorded to a young man clad in black velvet, who, by the majesty of his deportment and the gravity of his manner, appeared to exercise a certain sway over his companions, and to be treated by them, when he spoke, with marked respect. The third individual was habited in a Spanish-cloak of murrey-velvet, lined with cloth of silver, branched with murrey-flowers, and wore a chain of gold, richly set with precious stones, round his neck, from which depended the order of the Golden Fleece.
There was something in the presence of these three important personages that gave Aveline a feeling of security, such as she had not experienced since her forcible detention by the two extortioners, and she almost felt inclined to throw herself at the feet of the one who appeared to be the principal of them, and solicit his protection. But before she could execute her half-formed design, the party had approached the entrance of the nuptial chamber; and the curtain being raised for their admittance, excluded them, the next moment, from her view.
All now appearing quiet, she again ventured from her hiding-place, and speeded towards the door communicating with the gallery. But her departure was unexpectedly interrupted by the sudden entrance of another masked personage, tall in stature, and habited entirely in black; and in him she could not fail to recognise the messenger employed by Sir Giles Mompesson to bring her, in the first instance, to his habitation. Circumstances had subsequently occurred to induce her to change her opinion respecting this mysterious individual. Nevertheless, his appearance at this juncture would have caused her to utter a cry of terror, if she had not been reassured by the timely appearance of one upon whom she had reliance, and who raised his finger to his lips in token of silence. This was Luke Hatton, who, at the very moment that Lanyere appeared, issued from the chamber where the marriage ceremony was being performed.
“Be not alarmed, fair maiden,” said Lanyere, in a low voice, “you are in no danger; and all your troubles, I trust, are well-nigh ended. I thought you were in the marriage-chamber. Give me your hand. You must assist at the mock ceremonial taking place within there. I have no time for explanations; and indeed they are needless, since all will be speedily made clear to you. Divest yourself, I pray you, of this muffler. It is part of my plan that your features should now be revealed. You will understand why, anon.”
With this, he led her quickly towards the entrance of the inner chamber; and, pushing aside the curtain, advanced a few steps beyond it, still holding her by the hand, and followed by Luke Hatton.
The apartment, which was of considerable size and splendidly furnished, was full of wedding-guests, grouped around that portion of it which was railed off for the accommodation of those more immediately connected with the ceremonial, amongst whom, as a matter of course, was Sir Giles Mompesson.
Somewhat apart from the others were the three important persons who had arrived last; and the most exalted among them was seated on a raised chair, contemplating the scene, while his companions stood near him. They had now taken off their masks; and, even in that agitating moment Aveline recognised in the trio the Marquis of Buckingham, the Conde de Gondomar, and Prince Charles. All the rest of the company remained standing; and some of the young nobles formed a small semicircle behind the royal chair.
Lanyere’s entrance with his fair companion could not have been better timed. They arrived at the particular juncture when Sir Francis, having presented the wedding-ring to the priest was in the act of receiving it back from him, in order that it might be placed upon the finger of the bride; and the noise made by the promoter, who still wore his vizard, drew all eyes upon him, and upon the damsel by whom he was accompanied.
A smile of intelligence passed between Prince Charles and Buckingham; and some remark was made by the latter, to which the Prince replied by a gesture, seeming to intimate that the interruption was not altogether unexpected by him. De Gondomar’s looks also betrayed that he was likewise in the secret.
Others of the company laughed as if in anticipation of a jest; but the majority looked surprised — but none so much so as Sir Giles Mompesson. As his eye fell upon the dark and ominous figure of Lanyere, and shifted from him to Aveline, he appeared transported with rage; and dashing the ring from the hand of the astonished bridegroom (who, having his back toward the newcomers, was unaware of what was going forward), exclaimed— “Proceed no further! We have been deceived! Look there!”
“Where? where?” cried Sir Francis. “What is the matter, Sir Giles? You quite terrify me with your fierce looks. Help me to pick up the ring, and let the ceremony go on.”
“It is well for you that it is not completed,” replied Sir Giles, almost black in the face with choler. “You know not whom you are about to wed. But we will soon see. Off with your veil, minion! Off with it, I say!”
“Sir Giles, I will not permit this liberty,” cried the old usurer. “You shall not touch her. Whom should it be but my own dear, delectable Aveline?”
“Look round, I say, and credit your own eyes, since you doubt my assertions!” roared Sir Giles.
“Ten thousand furies!” ejaculated Sir Francis, as he complied with the injunction. “Why, there she is, in good truth, when I thought she was by my side. Whom, then, have I been about to take to my bosom?”
“It matters not,” replied Sir Giles. “She you desired to wed is yonder, and must take the other’s place. That is — but I forget,” he added, suddenly checking himself, and lowering his tone, “naught can be done, except according to rule, in this presence. Your vanity must needs be gratified by bringing together all this courtly company to witness your marriage. And now they will only mock you.”
“S’death! you are right, Sir Giles,” rejoined the old usurer. “I am become a mere laughing-stock to my guests. But at least I will see my false bride’s features. You hear what I say, Madam,” he added to Gillian— “let me behold your face without more ado.”
As he uttered the command, the damsel threw off her veil, and stood blushing, half-smiling and half-abashed, before the assemblage. Her natural charms, heightened by her attire, and by the peculiar situation in which she was placed, elicited general admiration.
“As I live, ’tis the pretty tirewoman from Tottenham, engaged by Luke Hatton to attend on Aveline,” cried Sir Francis; “but, ‘fore Heaven, I have gained by the exchange. I like her better than the other, and will go through with the ceremony. Proceed, Sir Priest.”
At this declaration there was a shout of laughter from the assemblage; but the merriment was increased, when Do Gondomar, stepping up to the bride, said, “I forbid the marriage. She belongs to me.”
“But my claim is paramount to that of your Excellency,” cried the old usurer.
“I cannot admit it,” rejoined the other. “Let the damsel decide for herself.”
“Then I will accept neither,” said Gillian. “Dick Taverner is already master of my heart, and
no one but he shall have my hand. I have been brought here to play a part, on the clear understanding that nothing serious was to come of it.”
“And nothing serious shall come of it, fair maiden,” said Prince Charles. “I promise that on my princely faith.”
“Then, indeed, I am easy,” replied Gillian, inclining herself reverentially towards the royal speaker.
At this juncture, Sir Giles Mompesson, who had been hitherto restrained by the presence of the royal guest from any violent measures, was advancing with menacing looks towards Lanyere, when the attention of Charles being directed to his movements by Buckingham, the Prince instantly arose, and in a tone of authority not to be disputed, said —
“Not a step further, Sir Giles. I will take care that all needful explanations be given.”
“But your Highness cannot be aware that this is a heinous offender and traitor,” rejoined Sir Giles, pointing to Lanyere. “I was about to take means to prevent his escape.”
“He has no intention of escaping,” rejoined Charles; “and I forbid any one to leave this apartment without my permission.”
“Will your Highness suffer me to relieve this fair creature from the embarrassing position in which she is placed,” said De Gondomar. “The youth she has mentioned, and to whom she declares her affections are given, was confined in the Fleet Prison for an attack on me; but, on my representation of the matter to the King, your father, his Majesty’s gracious consent was immediately accorded for his liberation.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 550
