The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

“What matters his faith to you?” cried Gertrude, sharply.

  “Nothing,” replied Engracia.

  But her looks contradicted her words.

  “If you would stand well with the countess do not talk to her on matters of religion,” said Gertrude. “She is not tolerant. With this piece of advice I leave you.”

  And she quitted the room.

  “I do not like that damsel,” observed Engracia to her attendant, as soon as they were alone. “Nor do I think she likes me.”

  “The señorita is right,” replied Maria. “The maiden’s eyes had a jealous sparkle in them. Do not trust her. She regards you as a rival.”

  “As a rival!” exclaimed Engracia.

  “As sure as I was born in Cordova, she is in love with the handsome caballero,” pursued Maria.

  “It may be so,” said Engracia, colouring deeply.

  “The señorita need not trouble herself about that,” cried Maria. “She is preferred, I am certain. I saw enough during the journey to convince me the caballero is desperately enamoured of her.”

  “But he is a heretic, Maria.”

  “The señorita will convert him.”

  “The difficulty is great — but perhaps it may be got over,” said Engracia.

  “No doubt of it,” replied Maria.

  “De paso, what have you done with the casket, Maria?” inquired Engracia. “I hope you have not lost it?”

  “Lost it! Saints forbid! It is here,” cried Maria, producing it.

  Engracia was gladdening her eyes with a sight of its glittering contents, when a tap was heard at the door, and some girlish voices called out in French, “May we come in?”

  Conjecturing who were her visitors, Engracia opened the door herself, and beheld the young ladies Stanley, who had brought her some articles of attire, thinking she might need them.

  “I am sure my dresses will fit you,” cried Lady Henriette Marie. “We are about the same height.”

  “You are a little taller, but they will fit me perfectly,” replied Engracia.

  “They will become the señorita maravillosamente,” cried Maria, as she took the dresses.

  “How can I thank you for this great attention!” cried Engracia.

  “We want no thanks — we want no thanks,” cried all three girls. “It is a pleasure to us to serve you.”

  Suddenly Lady Kate caught sight of the casket, and exclaimed:

  “Heavens, what beautiful jewels!”

  “Where?” asked the little Lady Amelia. “I don’t see them.”

  “There — on the table,” replied Lady Kate.

  And they all rushed forward to look at them.

  For a few minutes nothing was heard but rap-turous exclamations.

  Charmed by this display, Engracia in the most obliging manner begged each of them to select an ornament.

  “Oh! no — no — no!” they all cried, drawing back.

  “You will deprive me of a great pleasure if you refuse,” said the good- natured Spanish maiden.

  “But we can’t possibly accept such magnificent presents,” replied the Lady Henriette.

  “Will you deign to accept a single pearl each?” said Engracia.

  The two younger girls consulted their elder sister by a look.

  While they hesitated, Engracia took three pearls from a string, and gave one to each.

  “I would willingly do more, if you would allow me,” she said, smiling.

  “You have done far too much already,” rejoined Lady Henriette. “These are lovely pearls. We must show them to the countess, our mother, and if she will allow us, we will gladly accept them.”

  They then retired, but the little Lady Amelia would not quit the room till she had kissed her new friend.

  Contrary to expectation, the countess did not object to the gifts. Like her daughters she was charmed by the winning and ingenuous manner of the fair Spaniard, and would not mortify her by a refusal.

  CHAPTER V

  Love and Jealousy

  THE countess had been questioning Standish as to her lord’s plans, and though she naturally felt some anxiety as to the result of the meditated attack on Lancaster, she allowed no doubt to appear in her looks.

  “If Lancaster falls, Preston will soon follow,” she said; “and then my lord will once more be master of that part of the country. Of late, the rebels have been gaining ground, but a defeat like this will be a great check to them. I am sorry his lordship felt compelled to burn that Spanish ship.”

  “The step was unavoidable, madam,” replied Standish. “Had the rebels succeeded in securing the guns, Lancaster might have held out for a month.”

  “But what has become of the unfortunate captain and his crew?” inquired the countess.

  “The captain and lieutenant are with his lordship,” replied Standish. “As to the crew they will doubtless join our ranks.”

  “When do you return?” she demanded.

  “Not till to-morrow,” he replied. “Horses and men will then be fresh. I shall set out at day-break, and hope to rejoin his lordship near Lancaster.”

  “It is well,” said the countess. “You shall take a letter from me to him.”

  Just then, her daughters entered the hall, and showed her the presents they had received from the fair Spaniard.

  “She is as generous as a princess,” observed the countess, smiling.

  “I hope she will remain with us a long time,” said Amelia. “I am sure I shall love her very much.”

  “Yes, we all like her,” said Lady Kate.

  “I do not wonder at it,” remarked the countess. “But she may not wish to remain here.”

  “I think she does,” said Lady Henriette.

  The hour had now arrived at which the countess attended evening service in the chapel, and she therefore proceeded thither with her daughters. She was followed by Standish and several of the household, and Gertrude soon afterwards joined the little train.

  The chapel was situated in the inner court, and was capable of containing a great number of persons. A large pew on the left near the altar was occupied by the countess and her daughters. Gertrude sat with them. The body of the chapel near the door was crowded with musketeers, in front of whom were Captains Standish, Chisenhale, Ogle, and Molineux Radcliffe. The service was admirably performed by Doctor Rutter.

  When the congregation came forth, Standish repaired to the stables to give some orders to his men, and was returning through the inner court, when he perceived Gertrude at a distance and tried to overtake her, but she hurried on, and avoided him.

  According to custom supper was served at eight o’clock in the great banquet- hall. Among the company were Don Fortunio and his daughter, with all the officers of the garrison. Don Fortunio sat on the right of the countess, and Standish contrived to obtain a place near Engracia. Gertrude was likewise present, but she sat at the other end of the table, and never looked towards them.

  Both chaplains supped regularly with the countess, and grace was never omitted before and after the meal. Great form was observed on the occasion; the servants were marshalled by a steward carrying a wand, and Trioche devoted himself exclusively to the Spaniards.

  But the meal, though ceremonious, was of short duration. When grace had been said by Doctor Brideoake, the countess arose, and all the company followed her example.

  For some time the party remained in the hall, conversing together.

  After pacing to and fro for a few minutes, Standish and Engracia sat down on a couch at the further end of the vast apartment, which was here but imperfectly illumined. They had much to say to each other, but now they were alone, and might have said it, they remained mute.

  “Why are you so pensive?” inquired Engracia, at length.

  “I am thinking how wretched I shall be to-morrow, when I am forced to ride away,” he replied. “For the first time the battle-call will fail to animate me. Yet I should not feel so sad, if you would give me some hopes that the passion you have inspired is requit
ed.”

  Owing to the obscurity, Engracia’s blushes could not be seen, and besides she had her fan. She murmured some response, but it was scarcely audible. Standish took her hand, and as she did not withdraw it, he conveyed it to his lips.

  “You have wrought a great change in me,” he said. “Heretofore, I enjoyed nothing so much as an expedition like that in which I am about to be engaged, but now I would rather stay here.”

  “That must not be,” she cried. “Go and fight by the side of your valiant lord, and win renown. You may be certain I shall think of you constantly during your absence, and rejoice at your return.”

  “I shall find you here when I come back?” he asked.

  “Undoubtedly,” she replied. “There is no probability of our immediate departure. The countess, as you know, has seconded her lord’s invitation, and urged us to stay as long as we like. She is a noble dame. I am delighted with her and her daughters, and feel I shall be happy here.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” said Standish. “I feared this dull life would not suit you. There are no diversions here — no fêtes. One day is like another.”

  “I do not want amusement. I shall think of you. I should have been perfectly content if there had been a priest.”

  “That is a difficulty I cannot get over,” said Standish. “But I would recommend you to perform your devotions in private — since by doing so, you can offend none.”

  “Such is my design,” said Engracia. “I spoke to the damsel who conducted me to my chamber, and she gave me like advice.”

  “Gertrude?” remarked Standish.

  “Yes, that is her name. She is very beautiful, and I cannot but admire her, but I do not think I can ever love her.”

  “I hope you may not dislike her,” said Standish. “I fear she dislikes you.”

  “Why should she dislike me? What have I done to offend her?”

  “Nothing,” replied a voice near them, which both recognised as Gertrude’s. “I heard my own name mentioned,” continued the speaker, “and I deem it right to say I have no feeling towards you save good will.”

  “I am glad to receive the assurance,” said Engracia.

  “Do not confide in her,” whispered Standish.

  “I fear I have intruded, but I have no such design,” said Gertrude.

  Then addressing Standish, she added, “The countess desires to speak with you. She is in the presence-chamber.”

  “I will attend upon her ladyship at once,” he replied.

  And bowing, he left the two damsels together.

  Proceeding to the presence-chamber, he found the countess. She gave him a letter, and charged him with several verbal messages to the earl.

  “Say everything loving from me to my lord,” she observed, “and all that is fond and dutiful from my children to their father. I have but one other injunction to give you. Be first to bring me tidings of the defeat of the rebels.”

  “If life be left me, and my lord will grant me leave, I will do it,” replied Standish, as he placed the letter carefully in his doublet.

  “You set out early in the morn?”

  “At daybreak.”

  “’Tis well. A soldier should be early. I have only to wish you a good journey, and a safe return. Au revoir.”

  No other opportunity occurred to the young man of exchanging a word with Engracia, beyond bidding her adieu at parting for the night, but the tender valedictory look she gave him was sufficient.

  He looked round in vain for Gertrude. She had retired.

  The bell struck five as Standish entered the court-yard next morning, and found his little troop waiting for him, fully armed and equipped.

  It was only just light, and the musketeers were scarcely distinguishable on the walls, but while glancing round, he perceived a female figure near the entrance of the hall, and feeling sure it must be Gertrude, he left his horse with a trooper, and hastened towards her.

  Before he could reach the spot, the figure had disappeared.

  CHAPTER VI

  How the Mayor of Lancaster was summoned by the Earl of Derby to surrender the Tower

  No adventure of any kind occurred to Standish and his troop till they came within a few miles of Preston, when learning that the bridge over the Ribble was strongly guarded, they turned off on the right, and crossing the river near Walton-le-Dale, proceeded to Ribbleton, and thence to Fulwood and Broughton.

  The whole of this district was overrun by foraging parties from Preston, and being anxious to avoid an engagement, Standish sought to keep out of their way; but as he drew near Myerscough Hall — the residence of Sir Thomas Tyldesley, who was then with Lord Derby — he encountered a small troop of Parliamentarians.

  They had been plundering some farmhouses belonging to Sir Thomas, and were hastening to Preston with their spoil. Standish at once attacked them, and a sharp conflict ensued, but it was soon ended. Shouts were heard in the direction of Myerscough announcing pursuit, whereupon the Roundheads threw down their booty and galloped off.

  Immediately afterwards a dozen stalwart yeomen, mounted on strong horses, and armed with muskets and pistols, made their appearance, and were well satisfied to regain their goods without continuing the pursuit. They heartily thanked Standish for the aid he had rendered them, and only wished they had come up in time to punish the robbers.

  From these men Standish learned that the Earl of Derby had arrived overnight at Garstang with the whole of his force, and was probably there still. But for this piece of information, a halt would have been made at Myerscough, but the young man now pushed on, and in half an hour reached Garstang, where he found Lord Derby, who was very glad to see him, and receive the letter from the countess.

  Before eight o’clock, the whole Royalist force, now exceeding three thousand men — horse and foot — set forward towards Lancaster. The men were in good spirits, and enjoyed the march.

  Mists still hung upon Bleasdale Moors, and the Fell Ends overhanging Lower Wyersdale, but the estuary of the River Lune and the broad expanse of Morecambe Bay glittered in the sunbeams.

  Ere long, the stern old keep of Lancaster Castle came in sight, and on beholding it, the billmen and clubmen shook their weapons and shouted lustily.

  From their numbers the Royalists presented a very imposing appearance. The advanced guard, consisting of three troops of horse, was commanded by Lord Molineux. Then came Lord Derby at the head of a large body of horse, very well mounted and equipped. These were followed by several companies of musketeers, led by Sir John Girlington and Sir Thomas Tyldesley. Then came Sir Gilbert Hoghton with a regiment of horse, while the billmen and clubmen, divided into fifteen companies, each numbering a hundred, and each having a captain, brought up the rear.

  These formidable fellows were content to serve without reward, but expected to pay themselves with plunder. Embodied with them were the crew of the Spanish ship, armed with pikes, and commanded by Captain Verderol and Lieutenant Puntales.

  On arriving at Moorside, within a mile of Lancaster, a halt was called, and Lord Derby, attended by Standish, rode to the front to reconnoitre the town, and confer with Lord Molineux and the other commanders.

  Lancaster Castle, as already explained, was fortified and garrisoned by a strong Parliamentary force, commanded by Colonel Holcroft, Major Sparrow, and Major Heywood, and could only be taken by a regular siege, but Lord Derby intended to storm the town, and deal with the castle afterwards.

  His lordship was much surprised, however, to find that, after all, the guns had been recovered from the charred remains of the Spanish ship, and transported to the castle walls, where they now threatened him, but though vexed, he could not help admiring the spirit displayed by Major Sparrow.

  In addition to the force of the garrison, two regiments had been formed by the townsfolk, each three hundred strong, and respectively commanded by Captains Ashworth and Shuttleworth.

  Until the arrival of the Earl of Derby, the Parliamentary commanders were very well satisfied wit
h their preparations, but when they beheld the large Royalist force drawn up in the plain below, they began to feel uneasy, and messengers were despatched to Sir John Seaton at Preston, urging him to send them aid.

  Having carefully examined the defences of the castle, and pointed out the Spanish guns on the walls to Lord Molineux and the others, Lord Derby read to them a summons, which he proposed to send to the mayor and burgesses before commencing an attack on the town. Thus it ran:

  “I have come to free you from the bondage of the declared traitors, who now oppress you, and seek your destruction by bringing you into their own condition. Deliver up your arms, and lend me aid to regain the castle, and you shall have all fair usage. If not, expect from me what the laws of the land and of war will inflict upon you.”

  This missive, being entirely approved by the other commanders, Lord Derby delivered it to Captain Standish, who immediately rode off towards the town, attended by a trumpeter carrying a flag of truce.

  On arriving at the entrance of the town, Standish found a small troop of horse drawn up under the command of Captain Shuttleworth, who rode forward to meet him, and learning that he brought a summons for the mayor from the Earl of Derby, said:

  “If you will tarry but a short space, I promise you shall take back an answer — but to obtain it you must accompany me to the castle.”

  “The answer I require is from the mayor and burgesses,” said Standish. “The commanders of the garrison are not summoned. Lord Derby well knows they would not surrender the castle. The town is different.”

  “The mayor and the town council are now in the castle with Colonel Holcroft,” replied Captain Shuttleworth. “They will consult together when the summons is laid before them.”

  “On that understanding I consent to accompany you,” said Standish.

  Thereupon, they proceeded to the castle, followed by the guard.

  At that time Lancaster Castle was surrounded by a moat, and had been strongly fortified by the Parliamentarian commanders. The walls were thronged with musketeers, and amongst its ordnance could be discerned the pieces of cannon taken from the Spanish ship.