“I am too old to draw the sword for the prince,” said Dr. Deacon; “but I shall identify myself with his cause, and I have enjoined my three sons to enrol themselves in the Manchester Regiment.”
“You have done well, sir, but only what might have been expected from you,” said Colonel Townley. “Your conduct contrasts favourably with that of many of his self-styled adherents.”
“I can bear the taunt, colonel,” said Dr. Byrom, calmly. “Whatever opinion you may entertain to the contrary, my friends and myself are loyal to the House of Stuart, but we are also discreet. We have had our lesson, and mean to profit by it. To be plain with you, Colonel Townley, we don’t like the Highlanders.”
“Why not, sir? They are brave fellows, and have done no mischief. They will do none here — on that you may depend.”
“Maybe not, but the people are desperately afraid of them, and think they will plunder the town.
“Mere idle fears,” exclaimed Colonel Townley.
“Have you a list of recruits, colonel?” inquired Dr. Deacon.
Colonel Townley replied in the affirmative, and produced a memorandum-book.
“The list is so brief, and the names it comprises are so unimportant, that I shall feel ashamed to present it to the prince,” he said. “The first person I have set down is James Dawson.”
“Jemmy Dawson is a young man of very respectable family — in fact, a connexion of my own,” observed Dr. Byrom. “He belongs to St. John’s College, Cambridge.”
“Next on the list is Mr. Peter Moss, a gentleman of this county,” pursued the colonel. “Then come Mr. Thomas Morgan, a Welshman, and Mr. John Saunderson, a Northumberland gentleman. All those I have enumerated will be officers, and with them I shall couple the names of your sons, Dr. Deacon — Thomas Theodorus, Charles, and Robert.”
“All three are prepared to lay down their lives in asserting the rights of their only lawful sovereign, King James the Third,” said the doctor. “They have constantly prayed that Heaven may strengthen him so that he may vanquish and overcome all his enemies, that he may be brought to his kingdom, and the crown be set upon his head.”
“In that prayer we all join,” said the colonel. “I shall not fail to mention your sons to the prince. Then we have a young parson named Coppock, who desires to be chaplain of the regiment. From his discourse he seems to be a good specimen of the church militant.”
“He will give up a good benefice if he joins you,” remarked Dr. Byrom.
“He will be rewarded with a bishopric if we succeed. With a few exceptions, the rest are not persons of much rank — Andrew Blood, George Fletcher, John Berwick, Thomas Chadwick, and Thomas Syddall. The last is a member of the Nonjuring church, I believe, Dr. Deacon?”
“I am proud of him, though he is only a barber,” replied the doctor. “He has never sworn allegiance to the usurper, and never will. He is the son of that Thomas Syddall who was put to an ignominious death in 1716, and his head fixed on the market-cross of this town. Thomas Syddall, the younger, inherits his father’s loyalty and courage.”
“He shall be an ensign,” said the colonel. “Next, there is a young man, whom I have put down, though I don’t feel quite sure of him. He is the handsomest young fellow I have seen in Manchester, and evidently full of spirit.”
“I think I can guess whom you mean,” said Dr. Byrom. “’Tis Atherton Legh.”
“Right! that is the youngster’s name. He was introduced to me by Theodore Deacon. Who is he? He looks as if he belonged to a good family.”
“Atherton Legh is Atherton Legh — that is all I know of his family history, and I believe it is all he knows himself,” replied Dr. Deacon.
“I can tell you something more about him,” said Dr. Byrom. “He was brought up by a small tradesman, named Heywood, dwelling in Deansgate, educated at our grammar-school under Mr. Brooke, and afterwards apprenticed to Mr. Hibbert, a highly respectable merchant; but as to his parentage, there is a mystery. Beyond doubt, he has some wealthy relative, but he has prudently abstained from making inquiries, since it has been intimated to him that, if he does so, the present liberal allowance, which is regularly paid by some person who styles himself his guardian, will cease.”
“A very good reason for remaining quiet,” observed the colonel. “But I suppose Heywood is acquainted with the guardian?”
“He has not even heard his name. Atherton’s allowance is paid through a banker, who is bound to secrecy. But you shall hear all I know about the matter. Some eighteen years ago, an elderly dame, who described herself as Madame Legh, having the appearance of a decayed gentlewoman, and attired in mourning, arrived in Manchester, and put up at this very inn. She had travelled by post, it appeared, from London, and brought with her a very pretty little boy, about three years old, whom she called her grandson, stating that his name was Atherton Legh. From this, it would seem, there was no disguise about the old dame, but there is every reason to believe that the names given by her were fictitious. Having made some preliminary inquiries respecting the Heywoods, and ascertained that they had no family, Madame Legh paid them a visit, taking her little grandson with her, and after some talk with Mrs. Heywood, who was a very kind-hearted woman, easily prevailed upon her to take charge of the child. All the arrangements were very satisfactorily made. Mrs. Heywood received a purse of fifty guineas, which she was told came from the boy’s guardian — not his father. She was also assured that a liberal allowance would be made by the guardian for the child’s maintenance and education, and the promise was most honourably fulfilled. All being settled, Madame Legh kissed her little grandson and departed, and was never seen again. The child quickly attached himself to the worthy pair, who became as fond of him as if he had been their own son. In due time, Atherton grew into a fine spirited lad, and, as I have just intimated, was sent to the grammar-school. When his education was completed, in compliance with the injunctions of his mysterious guardian, conveyed through the banker who paid the allowance, the youth was apprenticed to Mr. Hibbert — the fee being five hundred pounds, which, of course, was paid. Thenceforth, Atherton resided with Mr. Hibbert.
“Such is the young man’s history, so far as it is known, and it is certainly curious. No wonder you have been struck by his appearance, colonel. He has decidedly a fine physiognomy, and his look and manner proclaim him the son of a gentleman. Whether he will venture to enrol himself in your regiment without his guardian’s consent, which it is next to impossible for him to obtain, is more than I can say.
“It does not seem to me that he is bound to consult his guardian on the point,” remarked Dr. Deacon. “I have told him so; but he has some scruples of conscience, which I hope to remove.”
“If his guardian is a Hanoverian, he ought to have no authority over him,” said the colonel. “You must win him over to the good cause, doctor. But let us have a glass of claret,” he added, helping himself, and pushing the bottle towards Dr. Byrom, who was nearest him.
CHAPTER IV.
SIR RICHARD RAWCLIFFE.
“By-the-bye,” continued Colonel Townley, looking at his watch. “I forgot to mention that I expect Sir Richard Rawcliffe, of Rawcliffe Hall, to-night. He will be here anon. ’Tis about the hour he named. You know him, I think?”
“I knew him slightly some years ago,” replied Dr. Byrom. “But I dare say he has quite forgotten me. He rarely, if ever, comes to Manchester. Indeed, he leads a very secluded life at Rawcliffe, and, as I understand, keeps no company. He has the character of being morose and gloomy, but I daresay it is undeserved, for men are generally misrepresented.”
“Sir Richard Rawcliffe is certainly misrepresented, if he is so described,” said Colonel Townley. “He is haughty and reserved, but not moody. When I left for France he had only just succeeded to the title and the property, and I knew little of him then, though he was an intimate friend of my uncle, Richard Townley of Townley.”
“He was not, I think, engaged in the insurrection of 1715?” remarked Dr. Deacon.
“Not directly,” replied the colonel. “His father, Sir Randolph, who was friendly to the Hanoverian succession, was alive then, and he did not dare to offend him.”
“I thought the Rawcliffes were a Roman Catholic family?” remarked Dr. Deacon.
“Sir Randolph abjured the faith of his fathers,” said Colonel Townley; “and his elder son, Oswald, was likewise a renegade. Sir Richard, of whom we are now speaking, succeeded his brother Sir Oswald on the failure of the heir.”
“It has never been positively proved that the heir is dead,” observed Dr. Byrom. “Sir Oswald Rawcliffe married the beautiful Henrietta Conway, and had a son by her, who was carried off while an infant in a most mysterious manner, and has never been heard of since. This happened in ‘24, but I cannot help thinking the true heir to Rawcliffe Hall may yet be found.”
“Meantime, Sir Richard is in possession of the title and property,” said Colonel Townley.
As he spoke, the door was opened by the landlord, who ushered in a tall personage, whom he announced as Sir Richard Rawcliffe.
Bowing to the company, all of whom rose on his entrance, Sir Richard sprang forward to meet Colonel Townley, and a hearty greeting passed between them.
It would have been difficult to determine the new-comer’s age, but he was not fifty, though he looked much older. His features were handsome, but strongly marked, and had a sombre expression, which, however, disappeared when he was animated by converse. His eyes were dark and penetrating, and overhung by thick black brows. His pallid complexion and care-worn looks seemed to denote that he was out of health. Altogether, it was a face that could not be regarded without interest. He wore a dark riding-dress, with boots drawn above the knee. A black peruke descended over his shoulders, and a sword hung by his side.
Habitually, Sir Richard Rawcliffe’s manner was haughty, but he was extremely affable towards the present company, expressing himself delighted to meet Dr. Byrom again. Towards Dr. Deacon he was almost deferential.
While they were exchanging civilities, Diggles, the landlord, re-appeared with a fresh bottle of claret and clean glasses; and bumpers being filled, Colonel Townley called out, “Here’s to our master’s health!”
The toast having been drunk with enthusiasm, Diggles, preparatory to his departure, inquired whether the gentlemen desired to be private.
“No,” replied Colonel Townley. “I will see my friends. I don’t think you will introduce a Hanoverian, Diggles.”
“You may trust me, colonel,” said the landlord. “No Whig shall enter here.”
After another glass of wine, Colonel Townley said to the baronet —
“Now, Sir Richard, let us to business. I hope you bring us some recruits. We are terribly in want of them.”
“I am surprised to hear that,” replied Sir Richard; “and I regret that I cannot supply your need. All my tenants refuse to go out. ’Tis to explain this difficulty that I have come to Manchester. Money I can promise his royal highness, but not men.”
“Well, money will be extremely useful to him. How much may I venture to tell him you will furnish?”
“A thousand pounds,” replied Sir Richard. “I have brought it with me. Here ’tis,” he added, giving him a pocket-book.
“By my faith, this is very handsome, Sir Richard, and I am sure the prince will be much beholden to you. I am about to join him at Lancaster, and I will place the money in the hands of his treasurer, Mr. Murray. If every Jacobite gentleman in Cheshire would contribute a like sum his royal highness would not lack funds.”
Both Dr. Byrom and Dr. Deacon expressed their sense of the baronet’s liberality.
“I am amazed by what you just stated about your want of recruits,” said Sir Richard. “I understood that some thousands had been enrolled in Manchester.”
Significant looks passed between the others, and Colonel Townley shrugged his shoulders.
“I am sorry to be obliged to undeceive you, Sir Richard,” he said. “The enrolment has proceeded very badly.”
“But you have the leading merchants with you. They are all pledged to the House of Stuart.”
“They are indifferent to their pledges.”
“Zounds!” exclaimed Sir Richard. “I was wholly unprepared for this. At all the Jacobite meetings I have attended, the boldest talkers were your Manchester merchants. How many campaigns have they fought over the bottle! But are there no young men in the town who will rally round the prince’s standard?”
“Plenty, I am sure, Sir Richard,” replied Dr. Deacon. “When the drum is beaten, numbers will answer to the call.”
“Better they should enrol themselves beforehand, so that we might know on whom we can count. You have so much influence, Dr. Deacon, that you ought to be able to raise a regiment yourself. Your sons might lend you aid. They must have many friends.”
“Theodore Deacon has already found me a fine young fellow, whom I should like to make an officer,” observed Colonel Townley.
“Ah! who may that be?”
“You will be little the wiser when I mention his name, Sir Richard. ’Tis Atherton Legh.”
“Atherton Legh. Is he of a Lancashire family?”
“I am unable to answer that question, Sir Richard. In fact, there is a mystery about him. But he is a gentleman born, I’m certain. You would say so yourself were you to see him. Ah! the opportunity offers — here he is.”
As he spoke the door was opened, and the young man in question was ushered in by the landlord.
CHAPTER V.
INTRODUCES OUR HERO.
Atherton Legh had a fine, open, intelligent countenance, clear grey eyes, classically moulded features, a fresh complexion, and a tall graceful figure. His manner was frank and prepossessing. His habiliments were plain, but became him well, and in lieu of a peruke, he wore his own long, flowing, brown locks. His age might be about one-and-twenty.
Such was the tall, handsome young man who stood before the company, and it may be added that he displayed no embarrassment, though he felt that a scrutinising look was fixed upon him by the baronet.
“Was I not right, Sir Richard?” whispered Colonel Townley. “Has he not the air of a gentleman?”
The baronet assented; adding in an undertone, “Tell me, in a word, who and what he is?”
“I have already stated that a mystery attaches to his birth, and so carefully is the secret kept, that, although he has a guardian who supplies him with funds, he is not even acquainted with his guardian’s name.”
“Strange!” exclaimed the baronet.
“Shall I present him to you, Sir Richard?”
“By all means,” was the reply.
Colonel Townley then went up to the young man, shook hands with him, and after a little talk, brought him to Sir Richard, who rose on his approach, and received him very graciously.
But though the baronet’s manner was exceedingly courteous, Atherton felt unaccountably repelled. Sir Richard’s features seemed familiar to him, but he could not call to mind where he had seen him.
“I hope you have come to signify to Colonel Townley your adhesion to the cause of King James the Third?” remarked Sir Richard.
“Yes, yes, he means to join us,” cried Colonel Townley, hastily. “I am enchanted to see him. Say that you will belong to the Manchester Regiment, Mr. Atherton Legh — say the word before these gentlemen — and I engage that you shall have a commission.”
“You are too good, sir,” said the young man.
“Not at all,” cried the colonel. “I could not do his royal highness a greater service than to bring him such a fine young fellow.”
“I shall seem but ill to repay your kindness, colonel,” said Atherton, “when I decline the honourable post you offer me. I would serve in the ranks were I a free agent. You are aware that I have a guardian, whom I feel bound to obey as a father. Since you spoke to me this morning I have received a letter from him, peremptorily forbidding me to join the prince. After this interdiction, which I dare not di
sobey, I am compelled to withdraw the half promise I gave you.”
“Were I in Colonel Townley’s place I should claim fulfilment of the promise,” observed Sir Richard. “As a man of honour you cannot retract.”
“Nay, I must say Mr. Atherton Legh did not absolutely pledge himself,” said Colonel Townley; “and he is perfectly at liberty, therefore, to withdraw if he deems proper. But I hope he will reconsider his decision. I shall be truly sorry to lose him. What is your opinion of the matter, sir?” he added, appealing to Dr. Deacon. “Is Mr. Atherton Legh bound to obey his guardian’s injunctions?”
“Assuredly not,” replied the doctor, emphatically. “Duty to a sovereign is paramount to every other consideration. A guardian has no right to impose such restraint upon a ward. His authority does not extend so far.”
“But he may have the power to stop his ward’s allowance, if his authority be set at defiance,” remarked Dr. Byrom. “Therefore, I think Mr. Atherton Legh is acting very prudently.”
“My opinion is not asked, but I will venture to offer it,” observed Sir Richard. “Were I in Mr. Atherton Legh’s place, I would run the risk of offending my guardian, and join the prince.”
“I am inclined to follow your counsel, Sir Richard,” cried the young man.
“No, no — you shall not, my dear fellow,” interposed Colonel Townley. “Much as I desire to have you with me, you shall not be incited to take a step you may hereafter repent. Weigh the matter over. When I return to Manchester you can decide. Something may happen in the interim.”
Atherton bowed, and was about to retire, when Sir Richard stopped him.
“I should like to have a little talk to you, Mr. Atherton Legh,” he said, “and shall be glad if you will call upon me to-morrow at noon. I am staying at this inn.”
“I will do myself the honour of waiting upon you, Sir Richard,” replied the young man.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 690
