CHAPTER V.
HOW CHARLES ARRIVED AT TRENT.
Next day, about an hour before noon, Colonel Wyndham and his lovely cousin mounted their steeds and rode towards Sherborne to meet the king. They had not got beyond the colonel’s domain when he went into a field to speak to some of his men, leaving Juliana beneath a tree, which threw its branches across the road. She had been alone for a few minutes, when a solitary horseman was seen coming from the direction of Sherborne.
For a moment her expectations were raised, but as the horseman drew nearer she judged from his garb and general appearance that he could only be a farmer’s son. Presently the young man rode up, and doffed his cap respectfully. He was excessively swarthy, and his hair was clipped very close to his head. With a certain freedom of manner, which Juliana did not at all like, he inquired whether Colonel Wyndham dwelt thereabouts.
“The colonel is in yonder field,” she replied. “You can go to him, if you think proper.”
“No; I will wait for him here,” said the young man. “If I am not mistaken, you are his cousin, Mistress Juliana Coningsby.”
The young lady regarded him haughtily, as much as to say, “What can it matter to you who I am?”
“Nay, I meant no offence,” he said, construing the look correctly. “If you are Mistress Juliana Coningsby, as I shrewdly suspect, report has done you scant justice.”
Juliana’s proud lip slightly curled.
“You are reported to be very handsome, but more might be said, methinks,” continued the young man, scarcely repressing his admiration.
“Thou art a bold fellow to tell me this to my face,” cried Juliana.
“I may be bold, but I am not a flatterer,” rejoined the young man. “Truth ought not to be disagreeable, and I have spoken nothing but truth.”
“But were I to say thou art singularly ill-favoured, it would be truth, yet thou wouldst not like it,” remarked Juliana.
“It would certainly be a poor return for my civil speech,” rejoined the young man, laughing. “But if you knew me better you might change your opinion. I have not always been thought ill-favoured.”
“They who thought thee otherwise must have been bad judges, with whom thy impertinence might pass for wit,” said Juliana. “But I will tolerate no more of it. Stand back, and do not presume to address me again, or I will acquaint the colonel, and he will punish thy presumption.”
“I am not aware that I have presumed, fair mistress,” replied the other. “But if you deem so, I humbly ask your pardon.”
“Ah! here comes the colonel,” cried Juliana. “He will read thee a wholesome lesson for thy freedom of speech.”
Colonel Wyndham’s approach produced a sudden change in the young man’s demeanour that astonished Juliana.
Pushing forward to the gate, he called out lustily, “Frank, Frank! how art thou?”
At the sound of this well-known voice the colonel quickened his pace, exclaiming joyously:
“Welcome, my liege! — welcome! I am rejoiced to see you.”
“And I am equally rejoiced to see thee, Frank,” cried Charles, heartily.
“’Tis the king!” exclaimed Juliana, in mingled surprise and consternation. “Oh, sire! pardon my excessive stupidity! I ought to have recognised your majesty in any disguise. What appears impertinence in a groom is only condescension in a monarch.”
“Oddsfish! I have nothing to pardon,” rejoined Charles, laughing. “You have told me some home truths, that’s all. I am very glad I rode on, or I should have lost this diverting scene. Ah! here they come,” he cried, as Jane Lane and the others appeared in sight.
Next moment the new-comers rode up, and were introduced to Colonel Wyndham and his fair cousin by Careless. The two young ladies seemed mutually pleased with each other.
“I must explain that during your stay at Trent you are to be treated as a near relative of the family,” observed Juliana to Jane. “I shall address you as cousin.”
“An excellent arrangement,” said Jane. “But my stay must of necessity be very brief. Having brought his majesty in safety here, my duty is fulfilled, and I shall return with Sir Clement to-morrow.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” said Colonel Wyndham. “I hoped you and Sir Clement would have remained with us for a few days, but I will not attempt to persuade you to act against your inclinations. Do exactly as you please.”
They then proceeded towards the house, and as they passed through the village the cottagers rushed to their doors to look at the strangers, and Charles had to enact his part carefully while he was under their observation. The Reverend Lift-up-Hand Meldrum likewise came forth from the rectory, and carefully scrutinised the party, but he paid little attention to the disguised monarch.
Naturally there was a great deal of bustle in the yard while the party was dismounting, and Colonel Wyndham seized the opportunity of saying a few words in private to the king, but some little time elapsed before his majesty could be taken to the room prepared for him.
THE KING’S ROOM IN TRENT HOUSE.
In a very few minutes after he had taken possession of the apartment it was as full of visitors as if he had held a levée.
As a matter of course, the ladies of the house were first presented to him, and were most graciously received, Charles expressing his warm obligations to Lady Wyndham for the kindness she had shown him. Mrs. Wyndham had some pleasant observations made to her, and Juliana was so charmed with the king’s manner that she wondered how she could ever have been mistaken in regard to him. Mr. Langton was likewise presented to his majesty, and congratulated him on his escapes.
In this agreeable and sympathetic society Charles passed the pleasantest hour he had enjoyed for some time. Not one of the persons present, as he well knew, but was devoted to his cause, and several of them had given abundant proofs of their devotion. No wonder, then, that he felt unusually cheerful; and while listening to his lively sallies, several of those who were present could scarcely believe that they were uttered by a fugitive king, upon whose head a price was set.
* * *
CHAPTER VI.
OF THE PARTING BETWEEN THE KING AND JANE LANE.
Next day, however, Charles’s cheerfulness for awhile deserted him. He had to part with Jane Lane; and though he was fully prepared for the event, it caused him a much greater pang than he had anticipated. They had been thrown together so much of late, and she had shown such deep and disinterested devotion to him, that he had began to regard her almost as a sister. Throughout their intimate association she had displayed so many high and noble qualities, such good judgment and discretion, such untiring zeal and intrepidity, that the king must have been insensible indeed if he had not rightly estimated her. Jane’s character was so pure, so simple, so irreproachable, that it could not be misrepresented. Charles looked upon her as a superior being, and when speaking of her in after years, and alluding to the important services she had rendered him, always admitted that he had never met with her like.
He was seated near a small table when she entered the room, followed by Sir Clement Fisher, who remained near the door, while she advanced towards him. Her mournful looks announced her purpose. Charles immediately arose, and prevented her from kneeling to him.
“I am come to take leave of your majesty,” she said, in a voice that betrayed her deep emotion.
“I need not say how grieved I am to part with you, Jane,” replied the king, sadly. “In losing you I lose my guardian angel, and I tremble lest my good fortune should desert me. To you — under Heaven! — I am mainly indebted for my preservation.”
“If I thought I could render your majesty further assistance nothing would induce me to quit you,” said Jane. “But my task is fulfilled. Others, equally devoted, and better able to serve you, will perform the rest. That your speedy deliverance from your foes is at hand I nothing doubt; and it is that firm conviction which strengthens me at this moment. My prayers will go with your majesty.”
“I thank you
from my heart,” replied Charles. “I know that I am with those who are devoted to me, yet somehow I cannot reconcile myself to parting with you. But I will not be thus selfish,” he cried. “I will not impose needless duties upon you. Others must be considered — —”
“Jane has my free consent to remain, if she can be of any further service to your majesty,” said Sir Clement.
“No — no,” cried Charles. “She has done too much already. My chief regret in parting with you, Jane, is that I cannot requite your services, but a time, I trust, will come when I shall be able to do so. Of all who have served me, you have the strongest claim to my gratitude, and the debt shall not remain undischarged. And now, since the word must be spoken, I will no longer hesitate to pronounce it — farewell to both! I need not wish you happiness, Sir Clement, since you will possess a treasure, such as few men have been fortunate enough to obtain.”
“I know it, my liege,” replied Sir Clement, earnestly.
Making a profound reverence to the king, Jane then retired, exclaiming in fervent tones, as she quitted the room:
“Heaven preserve your majesty!”
Charles was much affected by her departure, and remained for some minutes engrossed by painful reflections.
Roused from his reverie by a noise in the yard, he stepped to the window, and saw that Jane and Sir Clement had mounted their steeds, and were bidding adieu to Colonel Wyndham and Juliana. She raised her eyes for a moment towards the window at which the king was stationed, but he could not tell whether she perceived him or not. The gate was thrown open by Peters, hands were waved as they passed through it — and she and Sir Clement were gone.
* * *
CHAPTER VII.
OF THE INTERVIEW BETWEEN THE KING AND SIR JOHN STRANGWAYS IN MELBURY PARK.
Later on in the day Colonel Wyndham came in to learn the king’s commands, and finding him much depressed, said:
“Your majesty seems cast down by Mistress Jane Lane’s departure, and I do not wonder at it; but I trust you believe that you have friends here who will serve you as faithfully as she has done.”
“I do not doubt it, Frank,” sighed Charles. “I have every reliance on your fidelity.”
“It will interest your majesty, I am sure, to be made acquainted with a prophetic speech uttered by my honored sire, Sir Thomas Wyndham, not long before his death, in 1636, now some fifteen years ago. Sir Thomas at the time being dangerously ill, and not likely to recover, called together his five sons, and spoke to us of the peace and prosperity which the kingdom had enjoyed during the three last glorious reigns; but he added, that if the puritanical faction was not controlled it would inevitably obtain the mastery, and the pillars of government be undermined. ‘My sons,’ he added, with a sorrowful expression of countenance, ‘we have hitherto known serene and happy times, but the sky is growing dark. Clouds and troubles are at hand. But come what may, I command you to honour and obey the king. Adhere to the crown, and though it should hang upon a bush I charge you not to forsake it.’ My father’s prophetic words made an ineffaceable impression on us all. Since then three of his sons and a grandson have died while fighting for the good cause. But the dark and troublous times, to which he prophetically referred, have arrived. Fanatics and regicides prevail. The crown itself hangs on a bush.”
“Truly it does,” remarked Charles.
“But it will not fall. It will rest there till placed on your majesty’s head. Heaven, as I firmly believe, has reserved me for a great work — has brought me safely through many and great dangers, in order that I may prove myself a dutiful son and a loyal subject, by faithfully serving your majesty in your hour of greatest need. It has occurred to me, that my neighbour, Sir John Strangways, of Melbury Park, may be useful to your majesty. Sir John, I need scarcely say, is a staunch Royalist, and has given abundant proofs of his loyalty. His two sons were colonels in the army of your late royal father. He has friends at Weymouth, and I think he can procure you a vessel there. With your permission I will ride over to Melbury to-day, and see him.”
“I will ride with you, if it can be managed,” cried Charles.
“It can be easily managed, my liege, if you will deign to take Juliana Coningsby on a pillion behind you.”
“Nothing could please me better,” cried Charles. “I shall greatly enjoy the ride.”
“And Melbury is a very fine park, and contains some noble oaks,” said the colonel. “We will set out at once.”
Descending the back staircase, they then proceeded to the stable, where they found Peters, to whom the colonel gave all necessary instructions, after which, he returned to the house to inform Juliana of the arrangement. Greatly delighted she flew to her room to make some needful change in her toilet, while Careless, who desired to be included in the party, and felt certain the king would be glad of his company, marched off to the stable. Shortly afterwards the horses were brought out. Juliana looked charming in her riding-dress, and her cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled as she took her seat on the pillion behind the king. No doubt it was a great event in her life, and she did not attempt to conceal her delight. Careless rather envied the king his fair companion.
The road to Melbury Park, which was about eight or nine miles distant from Trent, led them through Over Compton and past the commanding eminence known as Babylon Hill. Proceeding thence through the beautiful valley of the Yeo, after halting for a short time to examine the noble old church of Bradford Abbas, the party rode on past Bradford Mill, and along the banks of the river to Yetminster. The pretty little village of Melbury Osmund, which adjoined the park, was next reached.
As the day was extremely fine, and the scenery enchanting, Charles greatly enjoyed the ride. Moreover, he had a very lively companion, who exerted herself to amuse him, and succeeded perfectly.
Melbury Park, which they shortly afterwards entered, was exceedingly picturesque and beautiful, and, as Colonel Wyndham had stated, contained some noble old oaks. Among them was a huge patriarch of the forest, the trunk of which was enormous. The tree has been well described as a “curly, surly, knotty old monster.”
“That old tree is called Billy Wilkins, my liege — wherefore I know not,” remarked Colonel Wyndham.
“It deserves a better appellation,” replied Charles, laughing. “But you will find us near it when you return. Off with you to the house.”
“Shall I bring Sir John to your majesty?”
“As you please.”
Colonel Wyndham then rode off at a rapid pace towards the ancient mansion.
Nothing could be more charming than the situation of Melbury House. At the rear was a noble grove of trees, while the green lawn in front sloped down to a beautiful lake. With its lofty tower and numerous gables, the old edifice presented a most picturesque appearance, and this effect was heightened by the pinnacles of an ancient church which could just be seen above the trees.
Charles did not long remain stationary beneath the rugged old oak, but rode to such points as commanded the best view of the house. Familiar with the park, Juliana pointed out its chief beauties to him.
Having finished his survey, he returned to the place of rendezvous. They were examining the gnarled trunk of Billy Wilkins, and wondering what the age of the old monster could be, when the colonel was seen coming back from the house.
Riding by his side was an elderly personage, whom Juliana at once proclaimed to be Sir John Strangways. Charles regarded him with great interest, for he was a perfect specimen of an old Cavalier — his attire, hat, doublet, hose, and boots belonging to the days of his majesty’s grandsire, James I.
Turning his horse’s head towards them, Charles awaited the approach of the pair, while Careless placed himself on his majesty’s left.
On being presented to the king by Colonel Wyndham, Sir John Strangways uncovered his white flowing locks, and bowed reverently.
“I am glad to see you, Sir John,” cried Charles. “Had it been safe for me to do so, I would have ridden up to your house.�
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“I should have been greatly honoured by the visit, my liege,” replied the old Cavalier. “But I would not have you incur any risk on my account. I render thanks to Heaven that you are in safety, and I pray that you may speedily be delivered from your enemies. Colonel Wyndham has explained your majesty’s wishes, and it deeply grieves me that I am unable to procure a vessel to convey you to France. All the ship-masters whom I knew at Weymouth and Poole have been banished for their loyalty. Those left are rebels and Roundheads. Some trustworthy man may possibly be found at Lyme, but I have no acquaintance there, and might do your majesty more harm than good by making inquiries. Colonel Wyndham can serve you far better than I can.”
“It would seem so, Sir John,” rejoined Charles, coldly; “and I shall therefore rely upon him.”
“I pray your majesty not to attribute my non-compliance with your wishes to want of zeal,” said Sir John. “I dare not promise more than I may be able to perform, but I am quite ready to obey your behests.”
“I have no commands to give, Sir John,” said Charles, still more coldly. “Colonel Wyndham led me to believe you had the power to assist me, but I find he was in error.”
“I have the will, but not the power, my liege. I can offer you a secure asylum at Melbury.”
“I am already provided with a secure asylum,” said the king.
“Possibly your majesty may require funds. I have brought with me three hundred broad pieces — all I have in my coffers.”
And as he spoke he took a leather bag from his saddle-bow.
“Put back the bag, Sir John,” said Charles. “I do not require the money.”
And he made a movement as if about to depart.
“For Heaven’s sake stay, my gracious liege, and say something kind to him,” whispered Juliana to the king. “You will break the old man’s heart if you depart thus. I will answer for it that he is devoted to your majesty.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 679
