The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  Where was Talbot Harland all this while? Speeding after her, we may be sure. But the honor of rescuing her was reserved for another — for one whom Talbot hated. The young man was outstripped by the Count de Bellegarde, who was mounted on a far fleeter horse than his own, and who fortunately came up with Dorinda when she was within a few yards of one of the abysses we have mentioned. The count seized her bridle, and, by a powerful effort, succeeded in stopping the infuriated animal.

  Next moment, Talbot joined them, and had the mortification of hearing the thanks she offered her preserver.

  “You have saved my life, count,” she said, with a look of unspeakable gratitude.

  Dorinda soon recovered from her fright, and looked more charming than ever as she rode back to the royal party, and received the warm congratulations of the duchess and Louise on her narrow escape.

  Seeing how much Talbot was chagrined, the king said to him, “Bellegarde has had the luck this time. But I promise you your revenge.”

  The young man had need of consolation, for Dorinda was now all smiles to the fortunate count.

  After they had had hawking enough, the royal party proceeded to the encampment, and sat down to a sumptuous collation, prepared for them in the Duke of York’s tent.

  CHAPTER XI

  SIR PETER LELY

  The repast over, the Duchess of Orleans and Louise returned to Somerhill.

  The king and most of the courtiers adjourned to the bowling-green, which adjoined the duke’s tent. Charles, who was in a very merry humor, challenged the Count de Bellegarde to a game, and the count could not do otherwise than accept.

  His majesty being an admirable bowler, everybody, except the Duke of Buckingham, betted on him. The duke backed Bellegarde, and won a large sum. Clearly, the count was in luck that day.

  Charles was still on the bowling-green, when Sir Peter Lely, who had just arrived at the Wells, made his appearance, and was most graciously received.

  The renowned painter, who has given us a gallery of such beauties as were never before portrayed, and who caught, as Horace Walpole truly said, the reigning character of the period, and

  “ — On the animated canvas stole

  The sleepy eye, that spoke the melting soul,” —

  this incomparable painter was then in the zenith of his fame. Lely was not handsome, but his features were mobile, and his eyes fine and observant. In person he was somewhat portly, easy and refined in manner, and as perfect a courtier as was ever bred.

  Charles regretted that Sir Peter had come too late to see Mademoiselle de Quéroualle; but promised to present him to her at Lady Muskerry’s ball in the evening.

  The king went on talking for a few minutes, when noticing that both the Count de Bellegarde and Talbot Harland were standing near him, he said to the painter, “I have another commission for you, Sir Peter.”

  “Your majesty honors me,” rejoined Lely, bowing.

  “During my ramble this morning,” pursued the king, taking care that Bellegarde should hear him, “I chanced upon the sweetest creature I ever beheld — a farmer’s daughter; but no wood-nymph could be more exquisite. Luckily, I discovered her retreat,” he added, glancing at Bellegarde, and perceiving that he was listening, “and enjoyed an hour’s converse with her.”

  “Your majesty appears enraptured with this rustic beauty,” observed Lely, smiling.

  “Enraptured! Ay, and so will you be, when you see her. But there is no rusticity about her. She is simple, but charming. You shall paint her for me, Lely.”

  “It will delight me to obey your majesty,” replied Sir Peter.

  “Talbot Harland shall take you to her dwelling to-morrow,” said Charles. “He has seen her, and will tell you that I have not exaggerated her charms.’’

  “She is, indeed, a most lovely creature,” said Talbot, “and well worthy of Sir Peter Lely’s pencil.”

  “I am curious to behold her,” said the painter.

  “Again, I say, don’t expect a rustic beauty!” cried Charles.

  “I expect an Egeria,” replied Lely. “And I doubt not I shall find one.”

  “Your majesty has been fortunate, it appears,” remarked Bellegarde, endeavoring to maintain an unperturbed demeanor.

  “Tolerably so,” replied Charles, carelessly. “But let us play another game at bowls. You owe me my revenge.”

  The bets were now in Bellegarde’s favor. All backed him but Talbot.

  But the luck had turned. The count’s hand was not so steady as heretofore. His majesty won the game.

  CHAPTER XII

  THE SECOND BALL AT SOMERHILL

  Lady Muskerry’s second ball was quite as magnificent as the first, and graced by the same brilliant company.

  The queen was present, with all her ladies.

  The Duchess of Orleans was there, with Mademoiselle de Quéroualle, and the king was constantly by the side of the fascinating Frenchwoman. Naturally, therefore, this was the central point of attraction to all the courtiers.

  According to his promise, Charles presented Sir Peter Lely to Louise, and the flattering painter professed to be quite dazzled by her beauty, and paid her a thousand extravagant compliments, all of which were echoed by the courtiers.

  Talbot Harland was almost superseded by the Count de Bellegarde. After the service he had rendered her, Dorinda could not refuse to dance with the count, and found him so agreeable, that she danced with him a second time.

  Ombre and basset went on as before in the smaller room, and the Duchess of Cleveland was again among the players.

  Lady Muskerry came in with the Count de Bellegarde, whom she had secured for the couranto, and hoped her grace was winning. The duchess shook her head.

  Lady Muskerry whispered a word in her ear, and the duchess replied, “I have ordered my carriage at midnight.”

  “It shall be ready for you then,” said her ladyship, with a significant look.

  While the ball was at its height, a troop of five well-mounted horsemen, one of whom led a sixth horse, entered Somerhill Park, covertly, and proceeded with the utmost caution towards an eminence crowned by a couple of large trees, in the vicinity of the mansion.

  The night was dark and cloudy, and the wide-spread branches completely screened them. From the hill on which the horsemen were stationed, the stately mansion could be discerned through the groves that surrounded it, with its windows brilliantly illuminated, while lively strains resounded from within.

  The large quadrangular court was, of course, concealed from view, but the ruddy glow reflected on the darkling sky above it, and the shouts and other sounds continually arising from it, showed that it was filled with a host of servants, who were partaking of Lady Muskerry’s hospitality. Some few torch-bearers could be seen on the terrace in front of the mansion.

  After taking up the commanding position we have described, the leader of the troop, who was no other than the redoubted Captain Clotworthy, gazed for some minutes at the illuminated mansion, and listened to the music proceeding from it. He then remarked to the trooper nearest him, who was humming the air that reached them, “You are longing to be among the dancers, Montalt.”

  “You are right, captain,” rejoined the other. “I should like to be at the ball prodigiously; but her ladyship has forgotten to invite us. Hark! they have changed the measure, and are playing a couranto.”

  And he again began to hum the tune.

  “Not so loud,” cried Clotworthy. “You will betray us.”

  Then turning to another trooper, he said, “Have you got all ready for Captain Duval, Mandeville?”

  “Yes, captain,” replied the other. “Hat, cloak, black peruke and mask, are all here.”

  “And his pistols are in his holsters,” added Flodoard, who had charge of the led horse.

  “Good!” cried Clotworthy. “Be prepared for instant action.”

  “The sooner the better!” cried the troopers.

  “Look, captain; there’s a carriage on the terrace now!�
� exclaimed Montalt.

  After a few minutes’ breathless suspense, the carriage was seen moving along the road at the foot of the hill.

  “It’s not the duchess, or Duval would have been with us ere this,” cried Clotworthy.

  “Why not attack it?” cried Montalt, unable to curb his impatience.

  ““would you spoil all? Let no man stir,” cried the captain, in an authoritative voice. “What’s the hour?”

  “Midnight,” responded Mandeville, as a clock belonging to the mansion was heard striking.

  “Another carriage on the terrace!” exclaimed Montalt. “I see!” cried Clotworthy, waxing impatient in his turn. “We shall soon learn whether it is the duchess’s. Be on the alert.”

  CHAPTER XIII

  HOW THE DUCHESS OF CLEVELAND WAS ROBBED BY CLAUDE DUVAL

  We shall now return to the ball-room.

  It was crowded as ever, for supper had not yet been served, and only one guest had departed. The king had been dancing with Mademoiselle de Quéroualle, and was making the tour of the room, accompanied by the Duchess of Orleans and her favorite.

  Our business, however, is with the Count de Bellegarde, and we shall seek him in vain amid the dancers, or among the company around them.

  After being dragged through the couranto by Lady Muskerry, the count proceeded to the room where play was going on; and while feigning to watch the punters at basset, kept his eye on the Duchess of Cleveland.

  At last, a valet approached her grace, who presently arose, smiled at the count as she passed him, and went out.

  Bellegarde did not offer to attend her, but followed almost immediately, and saw that she was joined by Lady Muskerry. The two ladies then made their way through the brilliant throng towards the hall, and the count took the same course.

  On reaching the entrance-hall, which was crowded with servants, he saw that the duchess was taking leave of her hostess, and that an usher was standing beside them. The duchess’s looks proclaimed the gratitude she was expressing to her ladyship.

  This was enough for the count. Mingling with the serving men, he passed out through a door at the rear, into the garden, without attracting observation.

  Meanwhile, the duchess proceeded to her carriage, attended by the usher. Shortly after she had entered it, a porter came forth, carrying two bags of money, which he placed, with his own hands, in the carriage beside her grace. This done, the coachman was ordered to drive on.

  No thought of danger disturbed the duchess, who was more occupied by her renewed losses at play than by any other reflection; and she was beginning to consider whether she would not altogether abjure cards and dice, when suddenly the carriage stopped.

  This unlooked-for halt had been caused by an authoritative order from a masked horseman, who, with two others, likewise masked, and armed with pistols, barred the way.

  The lamps showed these formidable figures distinctly. The coachman at once obeyed.

  At the same instant, two other horsemen, similarly disguised, appeared from behind, and threatened to shoot the footmen if they attempted to stir, or give the slightest alarm.

  As the duchess, who was much terrified, looked out of the window, she perceived another horseman advancing towards her.

  The light of the lamp falling upon him showed that he was masked, and enveloped in a cloak. But his feathered hat and flowing black peruke proved that he had some pretension to taste.

  “I beg a thousand pardons for thus stopping your grace,” he said, with an unmistakable French accent.

  “You are Monsieur Claude Duval, I presume?” cried the duchess, whose fright was, in a great measure, removed by this address.

  “Exactly,” he replied. “And I hope I shall not discredit any good report your grace may have received of me from Miladi Muskerry and her fair niece. It would enchant me to prolong the interview, which I have thus fortunately obtained, and to tell the loveliest woman in England how much the most devoted of her servants admires her. But time presses. Your grace has a certain sum of money with you in the carriage.”

  “You must be a sorcerer to know that, Monsieur Duval,” she cried. “Well, suppose I have? — you are too gallant to deprive me of it.”

  “Perhaps your grace will make me a present of it,” he rejoined. “That will be the most agreeable way of putting it. Descend!” he cried to one of the footmen. “Her grace desires you to give the money to these gentlemen.”

  The duchess did not contradict him, and the footman, not daring to disobey, got down, and opening the carriage door, delivered the bags of money to Clotworthy and Montalt, who pressed forward to take them, and then instantly drew back.

  “Infinitely obliged,” cried Claude Duval, bowing to the duchess. “I am sorry I must detain your grace a little longer.”

  “Detain me!” she exclaimed, uneasily.

  “Only for ten minutes. You will then be at liberty to proceed, and I trust will meet with no further interruption. Faites attention!” he cried to the coachman and footman. “I caution you not to move from this spot until you are permitted. Three of these gentlemen will remain to see my orders obeyed. I have the honor to wish your grace a good night.”

  He then took off his hat, and dashed up the hillside, followed by Clotworthy and Montalt. The others remained in guard of the carriage.

  CHAPTER XIV

  HOW HER GRACE OF CLEVELAND WENT BACK TO THE BALL

  The Duchess of Cleveland found her detention rather tedious, but was obliged to submit. Though vexed by the loss of the money, she could not help laughing at the adventure.

  It was a relief to her when a voice called out to the coachman that he might go on; and the three robbers disappeared in the gloom.

  “What are we to do, your grace?” inquired the footman.

  “Drive back to the house,” she rejoined.

  Nothing could equal Lady Muskerry’s astonishment when she saw the Duchess of Cleveland re-enter the ball-room. But she quite understood from the expression of her grace’s countenance that something strange had happened, and flew to meet her.

  “So delighted to see you back!” she hurriedly exclaimed. “But I hope no accident has occurred?”

  “More than an accident,” rejoined the duchess. “I have been robbed in the park — almost within a bowshot of the house — by Claude Duval and his band.”

  “Amazement!” cried Lady Muskerry. “Then you have lost the money?”

  “Lost it! unless the robbers are captured. I have despatched a dozen men in pursuit of them.”

  Before the duchess could enter into further details, the king was seen advancing, with the Duchess of Orleans and Louise. Close behind them were Talbot and Dorinda.

  “His majesty must hear what has happened,” cried the Duchess of Cleveland, rushing towards him.

  “Oddsfish!” exclaimed Charles, after listening to the recital. “This is a droller occurrence than the first.”

  And he made Louise laugh by the diverting description he gave her of it.

  “It must be a frolic,” he continued. “Who can have played it? Where is the Count de Bellegarde?”

  “He is there, among the entourage,” rejoined Louise.

  At a sign from the king, the count stepped forward.

  “Have you been absent from the ball-room just now, count?” demanded Charles.

  Bellegarde appeared surprised at the question.

  “I have just had the honor of dancing the gavotte with Lady Muskerry,” he replied. “And though your majesty was not likely to notice me, I am surprised you did not remark her ladyship.”

  “I recollect,” said the king, smiling. “Should you recognize this Claude Duval if you beheld him?” he added to the Duchess of Cleveland.

  “How is that possible, when he was masked?” she rejoined. “But he speaks with a very peculiar accent. Miss Neville will confirm what I say. She has conversed with him.”

  Dorinda blushed when thus appealed to, but immediately replied, “Yes, his accent is most marked an
d peculiar.”

  “At all like mine?” asked the Count de Bellegarde, with consummate self-possession.

  “Not in the least!” replied both ladies.

  “I am glad to hear that,” cried the king. “Still, I am convinced it is a wild prank.”

  “The trick may be practised on your majesty, and then you won’t laugh at it,” cried the Duchess of Cleveland, enraged by Louise’s merriment.

  “measures must be taken to capture the robbers, or jesters — which you please,” said the king, whose good humor was not to be disturbed.

  “I will engage that your majesty shall have some tidings of them by to-morrow,” said Talbot.

  “Several of the serving-men have been already sent in pursuit,” cried the duchess.

  “Go, and make all possible inquiries,” said the king to Talbot, who bowed, and quitted the ball-room.

  “And now let us to supper, with what appetite we may,” continued the Merry Monarch, as a gentleman usher advanced towards him. “If your grace will but remain an hour longer,” he added to the Duchess of Cleveland, “you will have plenty of company to escort you to Rusthall Common.”

  “Yes, I must now insist upon your grace staying to supper,” said Lady Muskerry.

  “I hope you have had nothing to do with this trick, Achille,” remarked Louise, aside to the Count de Bellegarde.

  “I! Can you entertain such a suspicion?”

  “Well, I hope Claude Duval won’t rob his majesty,” she said. “That would be carrying the jest too far.”

  The ball broke up about two hours later, but no further mischance befell any of the company on their return.

  CHAPTER XV

  THE KING TAKES ANOTHER EARLY WALK

  Notwithstanding the late hour at which he retired to rest, Charles was astir as usual, and his valet, Chiffinch, ventured to observe that he thought his majesty had better not go to bed at all.