“My sudden appearance seems to alarm you,” he cried smiling, as he bowed to the party. “I have been nearer to you than you imagined, and could at any time have overtaken you had I thought proper. But before you enter yonder mighty city I should like to know where I shall find you.
“We shall put up at the St. James’s Hotel in Jermyn Street,” replied Dr. Byrom, “but you had better not come there at first. I will give you a place of rendezvous. Be in the Mall in St. James’s Park to-morrow afternoon, about four o’clock, and look out for me.”
“I will not fail,” replied Atherton. Again bowing round and glancing tenderly at Constance, he galloped off.
Gregory, the man-servant on the box, and the postillions, had seen his approach with dismay, being under the same impression as the gentlefolks inside, and fully expected the carriage would be stopped. Gregory, however, speedily recognised the young gentleman, and called to the postillions that it was all right.
Brief as it was, the unexpected rencounter was highly satisfactory to Constance, as it relieved her mind of any anxiety she had felt as to Atherton’s safety.
Within half an hour after this little incident, which furnished them with abundant materials for conversation, they reached the outskirts of London, and were soon making their way through a variety of streets towards the west end of the town.
Prepared as they were for something extraordinary, our young country ladies were fairly bewildered by all they beheld. Oxford Street they thought wonderful, but it was quite eclipsed by Hanover Square, Bond Street, and Piccadilly.
At length they reached Jermyn-street, where they found very charming apartments at the St. James’s Hotel.
End of the Fifth Book.
BOOK VI. KENNINGTON COMMON.
CHAPTER I.
MONICA VISITS JEMMY IN NEWGATE.
On the morning after the arrival of the party in town, Monica being all anxiety to see her lover, Dr. Byrom accompanied her in a hackney-coach to the prison in which poor Jemmy was confined. During the drive she supported herself tolerably well, but on reaching Newgate she well-nigh fainted.
The necessary arrangements for her admittance to the prisoner having been made by the doctor, he assisted her out of the coach.
On entering the lodge she was obliged to remove her hood. A gaoler then conducted them along a passage that skirted the refection-hall, after which they ascended a short stone staircase which brought them to a gallery containing several chambers.
Unlocking the door of one of these cells the gaoler disclosed Jemmy. He was seated at a small table reading, and on raising his head, and beholding Monica, he sprang to his feet, and with a cry of delight clasped her to his breast.
So tender was their meeting that even the hardened gaoler was touched by it.
For a minute or two Jemmy did not notice Dr. Byrom, but on becoming sensible of his presence he wrung his hand, and thanked him in heartfelt tones for bringing his mistress to him. The doctor then told Monica that he would wait for her in the hall below, and quitted the cell.
“And so this is your prison-chamber, dearest Jemmy!” said Monica, glancing round it. “’Tis just the room I pictured from your description.”
“I thought it dismal at first,” he rejoined; “but I have become quite content with it. I shall feel no longer miserable since you are come. You must never leave me more.”
“I never will,” she replied.
They then lapsed into silence. Words seemed unnecessary to express their thoughts, and it was quite happiness enough to them to be together.
Leaving them we shall follow Dr. Byrom to the hall ward, where he found several prisoners assembled. Amongst them were Theodore Deacon and Tom Syddall. Taking the former aside he acquainted him with the death of his brother Robert, of which the young man had not heard. Though deeply affected by the intelligence, Captain Deacon bore it firmly.
Shortly afterwards Colonel Townley entered the hall, and on seeing Dr. Byrom immediately came up to him, and shook hands with him very cordially.
“We meet again under rather melancholy circumstances, my dear doctor,” he said. “But I am extremely glad to see you. Fortune has played me false, but I hope she has nothing worse in store for me. The Government must deliver me up. They cannot deny that I hold a commission from the King of France, and that I have been fifteen years in the French service. Still I know the hazard I run,” he added, shrugging his shoulders. “But come with me to my room. I want to say a word to you in private.”
With this, he led the doctor to a cell situated near the hall. It was somewhat larger than the chamber allotted to Captain Dawson, and better furnished.
“Pray take a seat,” said the colonel, doing the honours of his room. “I want to learn something about Atherton Legh.”
“He is safe and in London,” replied Dr. Byrom. “I expect to see him to-day. I hope to procure him a pardon, and I will tell you how. You are aware that his mother was Miss Conway. She was sister to Colonel Conway, who is now aide-de-camp to the Duke of Cumberland, and a great favourite of his royal highness. If Colonel Conway will intercede for his nephew with the duke, no doubt he will be successful.”
“I should think so,” replied Townley. “But is Colonel Conway aware of his nephew’s existence?”
“No,” replied Dr. Byrom. “If he has heard of him at all, it must be as Captain Legh. He may have seen him at Carlisle.”
“Yes, when the young man was captured during a sally,” said Townley; “but he knew nothing of the relationship. However, unless the Colonel should be deeply offended with his nephew for joining the prince, he can obtain his pardon, that is certain. Was there any intercourse between Sir Richard Rawcliffe and the Conway family?”
“Not since the death of Sir Oswald’s widow. They did not like him — and no wonder. But all this is favourable to our young friend. They will be glad to recognise him as Sir Conway.”
“I don’t doubt it,” replied Townley. “I hope he may regain Rawcliffe Hall, and marry his fair cousin.”
They then began to discuss political matters, and were talking together in a low tone when the gaoler entered the cell, and informed Dr. Byrom that the young lady he had brought to the prison was waiting for him. The doctor then took leave of his friend, promising to visit him again very shortly, and accompanied the gaoler to the lodge, where he found Monica. A coach was then called and took them to Jermyn Street.
CHAPTER II.
COLONEL CONWAY.
They found Constance and Beppy prepared for a walk. Beppy had taken particular pains with her toilette, and being rather gaily attired, formed a contrast to Constance, who was still in deep mourning. They tried to persuade Monica to accompany them, but she declined, so they went out with Dr. Byrom, and walked down St. James’s Street to the Park. The day was fine, and they were quite enchanted with the novelty and brilliancy of the scene. Both young ladies looked so well that they attracted considerable attention among the gaily-attired company. After walking about for some time they perceived Atherton, who immediately joined them. He was plainly but handsomely dressed, and looked exceedingly well.
“I have arranged matters for you,” said Dr. Byrom. “A room is secured for you at the St. James’s Hotel. You must pass as my son Edward. That will remove all suspicion.”
“I shall be quite content to do so,” replied the young man.
They then continued their walk, and had quitted the crowded part of the Mall, when an officer in full uniform, and followed by an orderly, was seen riding slowly down the avenue in the direction of the Horse Guards. He was a fine handsome man in the prime of life, and of very distinguished appearance. Atherton immediately recognised him as Colonel Conway, and, acting upon a sudden impulse, stepped forward to address him.
Colonel Conway reined in his steed, and returned the young man’s salute.
“I forget your name,” said the colonel. “But unless my eyes deceive me, I have seen you before.”
“You saw me at Carlisle, colone
l.”
“Why, then, you were in Colonel Townley’s Manchester Regiment — you are the rebel officer whom I myself captured. How is it that you act in this foolhardy manner? I shall be compelled to order your immediate arrest!”
“Not so, colonel. I am perfectly safe with you.”
“How, sir!” cried Colonel Conway, sharply. “Dare you presume?”
“You will not arrest your sister’s son,” replied Atherton.
“Did I hear aright?” exclaimed the colonel, scanning him narrowly.
“Yes, I am your nephew, the son of Sir Oswald Rawcliffe,” replied the young man.
Colonel Conway uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“I don’t doubt what you say,” he cried. “You certainly bear a remarkable resemblance to your father. Am I to conclude you are the missing heir?”
“Even so,” replied Atherton. “I have sufficient proofs to support my claim whenever I choose to make it. But it is a long story, and cannot be told now. Dr. Byrom of Manchester will vouch for the truth of the statement.”
And at a sign from the young man the doctor stepped forward.
“I did not expect to be called up at this moment, colonel,” said the doctor. “But you may rest satisfied that this young gentleman is your nephew. He is the lost Sir Conway Rawcliffe.”
“But you did not serve under that name at Carlisle?” cried the colonel, eagerly. “If I remember right, you were known as Atherton Legh?”
“Exactly,” replied the young man. “I have not yet assumed my rightful name and title.”
“I am glad of it,” cried the colonel. “By heaven! I am fairly perplexed how to act.”
“You will not act precipitately, colonel,” said Dr. Byrom. “It was my intention to communicate with you on your nephew’s behalf this very day.”
“I wish I had not seen him,” cried the colonel. “Why did he put himself in my way?”
“I had no such design, sir, I assure you,” said Atherton.
“Will you allow us to wait on you, colonel?” asked Dr. Byrom.
“Wait on me! No! unless you want the young man to be arrested. Where are you staying?” he added to Atherton.
“You will find me at the St. James’s Hotel at any hour you may please to appoint, colonel.”
“I am staying there, colonel,” said Dr. Byrom; “and so is Miss Rawcliffe — the late Sir Richard Rawcliffe’s daughter.”
Colonel Conway reflected for a moment. Then addressing Atherton, he said:
“On consideration, I will see you. Be with me at Cumberland House to-morrow morning at ten o’clock.”
“I will be there,” was the reply.
“Mind, I make no promises, but I will see what can be done. I should wish you to accompany the young man, Dr. Byrom.”
The doctor bowed.
“You say Miss Rawcliffe is staying at the St. James’s Hotel?”
“She is staying there with my daughter and myself, colonel. They are both yonder. May I present you to them?”
“Not now,” replied the colonel. “Bring them with you to Cumberland House to-morrow. They may be of use.” Then turning to Atherton, he added, “I shall expect you.”
With a military salute, he then rode off towards the Horse Guards, followed by his orderly, leaving both his nephew and the doctor full of hope, which was shared by Constance and Beppy when they learnt what had occurred.
CHAPTER III.
CUMBERLAND HOUSE.
Next morning, at the hour appointed, Constance and Beppy, accompanied by Dr. Byrom and Atherton, repaired to Cumberland House in Arlington Street. Sentinels were stationed at the gates, and in the court half-a-dozen officers were standing, who glanced at the party as they passed by. In the spacious vestibule stood a stout hall-porter and a couple of tall and consequential-looking footmen in royal liveries. One of the latter seemed to expect them, for, bowing deferentially, he conducted them into a handsome apartment looking towards the Park.
Here they remained for a few minutes, when a side door opened and an usher in plain attire came in, and addressing the two young ladies, begged them to follow him.
After consulting Dr. Byrom by a look they complied, and the usher led them into an adjoining apartment, which appeared to be a cabinet, and where they found a tall, well-proportioned man in military undress, whom they took to be Colonel Conway, though they thought he looked younger than they expected to find him.
This personage received them rather haughtily and distantly, and in a manner far from calculated to set them at their ease. He did not even beg them to be seated, but addressing Constance, said:
“Miss Rawcliffe, I presume?”
Constance answered in the affirmative, and presented Beppy, to whom the supposed colonel bowed.
“I have heard of your father,” he said. “A clever man, but a Jacobite.” Then turning to Constance, he remarked, “before you say anything to me understand that every word will reach the ears of the Duke of Cumberland. Now what have you to allege in behalf of your cousin? On what grounds does he merit clemency?”
“I am bound to intercede for him, sir,” she replied; “since it was by my persuasion that he was induced to join the insurrection.”
“You avow yourself a Jacobite, then?” said the colonel, gruffly. “But no wonder. Your father, Sir Richard, belonged to the disaffected party, and you naturally share his opinions.”
“I have changed my opinions since then,” said Constance; “but I was undoubtedly the cause of this rash young man joining the insurgent army. Pray use the influence you possess over the duke to obtain him a pardon.”
“What am I to say to the duke?”
“Say to his royal highness that my cousin deeply regrets the rash step he has taken, and is sensible of the crime he has committed in rising in rebellion against the king. He is at large, as you know, but is ready to give himself up, and submit to his majesty’s mercy.”
“If grace be extended to him I am certain he will serve the king faithfully,” said Beppy.
“I will tell you one thing, Miss Rawcliffe, and you too, Miss Byrom; the Duke of Cumberland feels that a severe example ought to be made of the officers of the Manchester Regiment. They are double-dyed rebels and traitors.”
“But we trust his royal highness will make an exception in this case,” said Beppy. “We would plead his youth and inexperience, and the influence brought to bear upon him.”
“But all this might be urged in behalf of the other officers — notably in the case of Captain James Dawson.”
“True,” said Beppy. “But as I understand, they are not willing to submit themselves, whereas Sir Conway Rawcliffe has come to throw himself upon the king’s mercy.”
“But how can we be certain he will not take up arms again?”
“Such a thing would be impossible,” cried Constance, earnestly. “I will answer for him with my life.”
“And so will I,” cried Beppy, with equal fervour.
“Once more I implore you to intercede for him with the duke,” cried Constance. “Do not allow him to be sacrificed.”
“Sacrificed! His life is justly forfeited. When he took this step he knew perfectly well what the consequences would be if he failed.”
“I cannot deny it,” replied Constance. “But he now bitterly repents.”
“Surely, sir, you will answer for him,” cried Beppy.
“I answer for him!” exclaimed the supposed colonel.
“Yes, for your nephew,” said Beppy. “Had you been with him he would never have taken this false step.”
“Well, I will hear what he has to say. But I must first make a memorandum.”
He then sat down at a table on which writing materials were placed, and traced a few lines on a sheet of paper, attaching a seal to what he had written. This done he struck a small silver bell, and, in answer to the summons, the usher immediately appeared. Having received his instructions, which were delivered in a low tone, the usher bowed profoundly, and quitted the cabin
et.
Scarcely was he gone when an officer entered — a fine commanding-looking person, but several years older than the other.
On the entrance of this individual a strange suspicion crossed the minds of both the young ladies. But they were left in no doubt when the new-comer said:
“I trust Miss Rawcliffe has prevailed?”
“I must talk with your nephew, Colonel Conway, before I can say more.”
“Colonel Conway!” exclaimed Constance. “Have I been all this time in the presence of — —”
“You have been conversing with the Duke of Cumberland,” supplied Colonel Conway.
“Oh, I implore your royal highness to forgive me!” exclaimed Constance. “Had I known — —”
“I shall die with shame!” cried Beppy.
At this moment Dr. Byrom and Atherton were ushered into the cabinet.
On beholding the Duke of Cumberland, whom both the new-comers recognised, they knew not what to think, but each made a profound obeisance.
“This is my nephew, Sir Conway Rawcliffe, your royal highness,” said the colonel.
“Hitherto, I have only known him as Captain Legh, the rebel,” observed the duke, rather sternly.
“Rebel no longer,” said Colonel Conway. “He has come to deliver himself up to your royal highness, and to solicit your gracious forgiveness for his misdeeds.”
“Does he acknowledge his errors?” demanded the duke.
“He heartily and sincerely abjures them. If a pardon be extended to him, your august sire will ever find him a loyal subject.”
“Is this so?” demanded the duke.
“It is,” replied the young man, bending lowly before the duke. “I here vow allegiance to the king, your father.”
“Well, Sir Conway,” replied the duke, “since you are sensible of your errors, I will promise you a pardon from his majesty. But you will understand that a point has been strained in your favour, and that you owe your life partly to the intercession of your uncle, whose great services I desire to reward, and partly to the solicitations of these your friends. It has been said of me, I know, that I am of a savage and inflexible disposition; but I should be savage, indeed, if I could resist such prayers as have been addressed to me — especially by your fair cousin,” he added, glancing at Constance.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 720
