by Anthony Hope
CHAPTER XI
THE GENTLEMAN FROM CALAIS
Good fortune and bad had combined to make me somewhat more of a figurein the eyes of the Court than was warranted by my abilities or mystation. The friend of Mistress Gwyn and the favourite of the Duke ofMonmouth (for this latter title his Grace's signal kindness soonextorted from the amused and the envious) was a man whom great folkrecognised, and to whom small folk paid civility. Lord Carford hadbecome again all smiles and courtesy; Darrell, who arrived in theSecretary's train, compensated in cordiality for what he lacked inconfidence; my Lord Arlington himself presented me in most flatteringterms to the French King's envoy, M. Colbert de Croissy, who, in histurn, greeted me with a warmth and regarded me with a curiosity thatproduced equal gratification and bewilderment in my mind. Finally, theDuke of Monmouth insisted on having me with him in the Castle, thoughthe greater part of the gentlemen attached to the Royal and noblepersons were sent to lodge in the town for want of accommodation withinthe walls. My private distress, from which I recovered but slowly, or,to speak more properly, suppressed with difficulty, served to prevent mefrom becoming puffed up with the conceit which this success might wellhave inspired.
The first part of Betty Nasroth's prophecy now stood fulfilled, ay, as Itrusted, utterly finished and accomplished; the rest tarried. I hadguessed that there was a secret, what it was remained unknown to me and,as I soon suspected, to people more important. The interval before thearrival of the Duchess of Orleans was occupied in many councils andconferences; at most of them the Duke of Monmouth was present, and hetold me no more than all the Court conjectured when he said that Madamed'Orleans came with a project for a new French Alliance and a fresh warwith the Dutch. But there were conferences at which he was not present,nor the Duke of Buckingham, but only the King, his brother (so soon ashis Royal Highness joined us from London), the French Envoy, andClifford and Arlington. Of what passed at these my master knew nothing,though he feigned knowledge; he would be restless when I, having used myeyes, told him that the King had been with M. Colbert de Croissy for twohours, and that the Duke of York had walked on the wall above an hour inearnest conversation with the Treasurer. He felt himself ignored, andpoured out his indignation unreservedly to Carford. Carford would frownand throw his eyes towards me, as though to ask if I were to hear thesethings, but the Duke refused his suggestion. Nay, once he said in jest:
"What I say is as safe with him as with you, my lord, or safer."
I wondered to see Carford indignant.
"Why do you say safer, sir?" he asked haughtily, while the colour on hischeeks was heightened. "Is any man's honour more to be trusted thanmine?"
"Ah, man, I meant nothing against your honour; but Simon here has adiscretion that heaven does not give to everyone."
Now, when I see a man so sensitive to suspicion as to find it in everycareless word, I am set thinking whether he may not have some cause tofear suspicion. Honesty expects no accusation. Carford's readiness torepel a charge not brought caught my notice, and made me ponder more oncertain other conferences to which also his Grace my patron was astranger. More than once had I found Arlington and Carford together,with M. Colbert in their company, and on the last occasion of such anencounter Carford had requested me not to mention his whereabouts to theDuke, advancing the trivial pretext that he should have been engaged onhis Grace's business. His Grace was not our schoolmaster. But I wasdeceived, most amiably deceived, and held my tongue as he prayed. Yet Iwatched him close, and soon, had a man told me that the Duke of Yorkthought it well to maintain a friend of his own in his nephew'sconfidence, I would have hazarded that friend's name without fear ofmistake.
So far the affair was little to me, but when Mistress Barbara came fromLondon the day before Madame was to arrive, hardly an hour passed beforeI perceived that she also, although she knew it not, had her part toplay. I cannot tell what reward they offered Carford for successfulservice; if a man who sells himself at a high price be in any way less avillain than he who takes a penny, I trust that the price was high; forin pursuance of the effort to obtain Monmouth's confidence and anascendency over him, Carford made use of the lady whom he had courted,and, as I believed, still courted, for his own wife. He threw her inMonmouth's way by tricks too subtle for her to detect, but plain to anattentive observer. I knew from her father that lately he had againbegged her hand, and that she had listened with more show of favour. Yethe was the Duke's very humble servant in all the plans which thatheadstrong young man now laid against the lady's peace and honour. Isthere need to state the scheme more plainly? In those days a man mightrise high and learn great secrets, if he knew when to shut his eyes andhow to knock loud before he entered the room.
I should have warned her. It is true; but the mischief lay in the factthat by no means could I induce her to exchange a word with me. She washarder by far to me than she had shewn herself in London. Perhaps shehad heard how I had gone to Chelsea; but whether for good reason or bad,my crime now seemed beyond pardon. Stay; perhaps my condition was belowher notice; or sin and condition so worked together that she would havenothing of me, and I could do nothing but look on with outward calm andhidden sourness while the Duke plied her with flatteries that soon grewto passionate avowals, and Carford paid deferential suit when hissuperior was not in the way. She triumphed in her success as girls will,blind to its perils as girls are; and Monmouth made no secret of hishopes of success, as he sat between Carford's stolid face and mydowncast eyes.
"She's the loveliest creature in the world," he would cry. "Come, drinka toast to her!" I drank silently, while Carford led him on tounrestrained boasts and artfully fanned his passion.
At last--it was the evening of the day before Madame was to come--I mether where she could not avoid me, by the Constable's Tower, and alone. Itook my courage in my hands and faced her, warning her of her peril inwhat delicate words I could find. Alas, I made nothing of it. A scornfuljest at me and my righteousness (of which, said she, all London had beentalking a little while back) was the first shot from her battery. Themention of the Duke's name brought a blush and a mischievous smile, asshe answered:
"Shouldn't I make a fine Duchess, Mr Dale?"
"Ay, if he made you one," said I with gloomy bluntness.
"You insult me, sir," she cried, and the flush on her face deepened.
"Then I do in few words what his Grace does in many," I retorted.
I went about it like a dolt, I do not doubt. For she flew out at me,demanding in what esteem I held her, and in what her birth fell short ofAnne Hyde's--"who is now Duchess of York, and in whose service I havethe honour to be."
"Is that your pattern?" I asked. "Will the King interpose for you as hedid for the daughter of Lord Clarendon?"
She tossed her head, answering:
"Perhaps so much interference will not be needed."
"And does my Lord Carford share these plans of yours?" I asked with asneer.
The question touched her; she flushed again, but gave way not an inch.
"Lord Carford has done me much honour, as you know," said she, "but hewouldn't stand in my way here."
"Indeed he doesn't!" I cried. "Nor in his Grace's!"
"Have you done, sir?" says she most scornfully.
"I have done, madame," said I, and on she swept.
"Yet you shall come to no harm," I added to myself as I watched herproud free steps carry her away. She also, it seemed, had her dream; Ihoped that no more than hurt pride and a heart for the moment sore wouldcome of it. Yet if the flatteries of princes pleased, she was to bebetter pleased soon, and the Duke of Monmouth seem scarcely higher toher than Simon Dale.
Then came Madame in the morning from Dunkirk, escorted by theVice-Admiral, and met above a mile from the coast by the King in hisbarge; the Duke of York, Prince Rupert, and my Duke (on whom, Iattended) accompanying His Majesty. Madame seemed scarcely as beautifulas I had heard, although of a very high air and most admirable carriageand address; and my eyes, prone, I must confe
ss, to seek the fairestface, wandered from hers to a lady who stood near, gifted with adelicate and alluring, yet childish, beauty, who gazed on the gay scenewith innocent interest and a fresh enjoyment. Madame, having embracedher kinsmen, presented the lady to His Majesty by the name ofMademoiselle Louise Renee de Perrencourt de Querouaille (the name wasmuch shortened by our common folk in later days), and the King kissedher hand, saying that he was rejoiced to see her--as indeed he seemed tobe, if a man might judge by the time he spent in looking at her, andthe carelessness with which he greeted the others in attendance onMadame.
"And these are all who come with you, sister?" he asked.
She answered him clearly, almost loudly:
"Except a gentleman who is to join me from Calais to-morrow, withmessages from the King."
I heard no more, being forced to move away and leave the royal groupalone. I had closely examined all who came. For in the presence ofMadame I read _Je viens_, in our King's, _Tu viens_; but I saw nonewhose coming would make the tidings _Il vient_ worthy of a specialmessenger to London. But there was a gentleman to arrive from Calais. Ihad enough curiosity to ask M. le Comte d'Albon, who (with his wife)accompanied Madame and stood by me on deck as we returned to land, whothis gentleman might be.
"He is called M. de Perrencourt," the Count replied, "and is relatedremotely to the lady whom you saw with Madame."
I was disappointed, or rather checked. Was M. de Perrencourt soimportant that they wrote _Il vient_ about him and sent the tidings toLondon?
After some time, when we were already coming near to shore, I observedMadame leave the King and go walking to and fro on the deck in companywith Monmouth. He was very merry and she was very gracious; I amusedmyself with watching so handsome and well-matched a pair. I did notwonder that my Duke was in a mighty good temper, for, even had she beenno Princess, her company was such as would please a man's pride andcontent his fancy. So I leant against the mast, thinking it a pity thatthey troubled their pretty heads with Dutch wars and the like tiresomematters, and were not content to ornament the world, leaving its rule toothers. But presently I saw the Duke point towards me, and Madame'sglance follow his finger; he talked to her again and both laughed. Then,just as we came by the landing-stage, she laid her hand on his arm, asthough in command. He laughed again, shrugging his shoulders, thenraised his hand and beckoned to me. Now I, while watching, had been mostdiligent in seeming not to watch, and it needed a second andunmistakable signal from his Grace before I hastened up, hat in hand.Madame was laughing, and, as I came, I heard her say, "Yes, but I willspeak to him." The Duke, with another shrug, bade me come near, and indue form presented me. She gave me her hand to kiss, saying with a smilethat showed her white teeth,
"Sir, I asked to be shown the most honest man in Dover, and my cousinMonmouth has brought you to me."
I perceived that Monmouth, seeking how to entertain her, had notscrupled to press me into his service. This I could not resent, andsince I saw that she was not too dull to be answered in the spirit ofher address, I made her a low bow and said:
"His Grace, Madame, conceived you to mean in Dover Castle. The townsmen,I believe, are very honest."
"And you, though the most honest in the Castle, are not very honest?"
"I take what I find, Madame," I answered.
"So M. Colbert tells me," she said with a swift glance at me. "Yet it'snot always worth taking."
"I keep it, in case it should become so," I answered, for I guessed thatColbert had told her of my encounter with M. de Fontelles; if that wereso, she might have a curiosity to see me without the added inducement ofMonmouth's malicious stories.
"Not if it be a secret? No man keeps that," she cried.
"He may, if he be not in love, Madame."
"But are you that monster, Mr Dale?" said she. "Shame on the ladies ofmy native land! Yet I'm glad! For, if you're not in love, you'll be moreready to serve me, perhaps."
"Mr Dale, Madame, is not incapable of falling in love," said Monmouthwith a bow. "Don't try his virtue too much."
"He shall fall in love then with Louise," she cried.
Monmouth made a grimace, and the Duchess suddenly fell to laughing, asshe glanced over her shoulder towards the King, who was busily engagedin conversation with Mlle. de Querouaille.
"Indeed, no!" I exclaimed with a fervour that I had not intended. Nomore of that part of Betty Nasroth's prophecy for me, and the King'sattentions were already particular. "But if I can serve your RoyalHighness, I am body and soul at your service."
"Body and soul?" said she. "Ah, you mean saving--what is it? Haven't youreservations?"
"His Grace has spared me nothing," said I, with a reproachful glance atMonmouth.
"The more told of you the better you're liked, Simon," said he kindly."See, Madame, we're at the landing, and there's a crowd of loyal folk togreet you."
"I know the loyalty of the English well," said she in a low voice andwith a curling lip. "They have their reservations like Mr Dale. Ah,you're speaking, Mr Dale?"
"To myself, Madame," I answered, bowing profoundly. She laughed, shakingher head at me, and passed on. I was glad she did not press me, for whatI had said was, "Thank God," and I might likely enough have told a lieif she had put me to the question.
That night the King entertained his sister at a great banquet in thehall of the Castle, where there was much drinking of toasts, and muchtalk of the love that the King of France had for the King of England,and our King for the other King, and we for the French (whereas we hatedthem) and they for us (although they wasted no kindness on us); but atleast every man got as much wine as he wanted, and many of them morethan they had fair occasion for; and among these last I must count theDuke of Monmouth. For after the rest had risen from table he sat therestill, calling Carford to join him, and even bidding me sit down by hisside. Carford seemed in no haste to get him away, although very anxiousto relieve me of my post behind his chair, but at last, by dint ofupbraiding them both, I prevailed on Carford to offer his arm and theDuke to accept it, while I supported him on the other side. Thus we setout for his Grace's quarters, making a spectacle sad enough to amoralist, but too ordinary at Court for any remark to be excited by it.Carford insisted that he could take the Duke alone; I would not budge.My lord grew offensive, hinting of busybodies who came between the Dukeand his friends. Pushed hard, I asked the Duke himself if I should leavehim. He bade me stay, swearing that I was an honest fellow and noPapist, as were some he knew. I saw Carford start; his Grace saw nothingsave the entrance of his chamber, and that not over-plainly. But we gothim in, and into a seat, and the door shut. Then he called for morewine, and Carford at once brought it to him and pledged him once andagain, Monmouth drinking deep.
"He's had more than he can carry already," I whispered. Carford turnedstraight to the Duke, crying, "Mr Dale here says that your Grace isdrunk." He made nothing by the move, for the Duke answeredgood-humouredly,
"Truly I am drunk, but in the legs only, my good Simon. My head isclear, clear as daylight, or the----" He looked round cunningly, andcaught each of us by the arm. "We're good Protestants here?" he askedwith a would-be shrewd, wine-muddled glance.
"Sound and true, your Grace," said Carford. Then he whispered to me,"Indeed I think he's ill. Pray run for the King's physician, Mr Dale."
"Nay, he'd do well enough if he were alone with me. If you desire thephysician's presence, my lord, he's easy to find."
I cared not a jot for Carford's anger, and was determined not to giveground. But we had no more time for quarrelling.
"I am as loyal--as loyal to my father as any man in the kingdom," saidthe Duke in maudlin confidence. "But you know what's afoot?"
"A new war with the Dutch, I'm told, sir," said I.
"A fig for the Dutch! Hush, we must speak low, there may be Papistsabout. There are some in the Castle, Carford. Hush, hush! Some say myuncle's one, some say the Secretary's one. Gentlemen, I--I say no more.Traitors have said that my father is----"
Carford interrupted him.
"Don't trouble your mind with these slanders, sir," he urged.
"I won't believe it. I'll stand by my father. But if the Duke ofYork--But I'll say no more." His head fell on his breast. But in amoment he sprang to his feet, crying, "But I'm a Protestant. Yes, andI'm the King's son." He caught Carford by the arm, whispering, "Not aword of it. I'm ready. We know what's afoot. We're loyal to the King; wemust save him. But if we can't--if we can't, isn't there onewho--who----?"
He lost his tongue for an instant. We stood looking at him, till hespoke again. "One who would be a Protestant King?"
He spoke the last words loud and fiercely; it was the final effort, andhe sank back in his chair in a stupor. Carford gave a hasty glance athis face.
"I'll go for the physician," he cried. "His Grace may needblood-letting."
I stepped between him and the door as he advanced.
"His Grace needs nothing," said I, "except the discretion of hisfriends. We've heard foolish words that we should not have heardto-night, my lord."
"I am sure they're safe with you," he answered.
"And with you?" I retorted quickly.
He drew himself up haughtily.
"Stand aside, sir, and let me pass."
"Where are you going?"
"To fetch the physician. I'll answer none of your questions."
I could not stop him without an open brawl, and that I would notencounter, for it could lead only to my own expulsion. Yet I was surethat he would go straight to Arlington, and that every word the Duke hadspoken would be carried to York, and perhaps to the King, before nextmorning. The King would be informed, if it were thought possible toprejudice him against his son; York, at least, would be warned of themad scheme which was in the young Duke's head. I drew aside and with asurly bow let Carford pass. He returned my salutation with an equaleconomy of politeness, and left me alone with Monmouth, who had now sunkinto a heavy and uneasy sleep. I roused him and got him to bed, glad tothink that his unwary tongue would be silent for a few hours at least.Yet what he had said brought me nearer to the secret and the mystery.There was indeed more afoot than the war with the Dutch. There was, if Imistook not, a matter that touched the religion of the King. Monmouth,whose wits were sharp enough, had gained scent of it; the wits went outas the wine went in, and he blurted out what he suspected, robbing hisknowledge of all value by betraying its possession. Our best knowledgelies in what we are not known to know.
I repaired, thoughtful and disturbed, to my own small chamber, next theDuke's; but the night was fine and I had no mind for sleep. I turnedback again and made my way on to the wall, where it faces towards thesea. The wind was blowing fresh and the sound of the waves filled myears. No doubt the same sound hid the noise of my feet, for when I cameto the wall, I passed unheeded by three persons who stood in a grouptogether. I knew all and made haste to pass by; the man was the Kinghimself, the lady on his right was Mistress Barbara; in the third Irecognised Madame's lady, Louise de Querouaille. I proceeded somedistance farther till I was at the end of the wall nearest the sea.There I took my stand, looking not at the sea but covertly at the littlegroup. Presently two of them moved away; the third curtseyed low but didnot accompany them. When they were gone, she turned and leant on theparapet of the wall with clasped hands. Drawn by some impulse, I movedtowards her. She was unconscious of my approach until I came quite nearto her; then she turned on me a face stained with tears and pale withagitation and alarm. I stood before her, speechless, and she found nowords in which to address me. I was too proud to force my company onher, and made as though to pass with a bow; but her face arrested me.
"What ails you, Mistress Barbara?" I cried impetuously. She smoothed herface to composure as she answered me:
"Nothing, sir." Then she added carelessly, "Unless it be that sometimesthe King's conversation is too free for my liking."
"When you want me, I'm here," I said, answering not her words but thefrightened look that there was in her eyes.
For an instant I seemed to see in her an impulse to trust me and to laybare what troubled her. The feeling passed; her face regained itsnatural hue, and she said petulantly,
"Why, yes, it seems fated that you should always be there, Simon, yetBetty Nasroth said nothing of it."
"It may be well for you that I'm here," I answered hotly; for her scornstirred me to say what I should have left unsaid.
I do not know how she would have answered, for at the moment we heard ashout from the watchman who stood looking over the sea. He hailed a boatthat came prancing over the waves; a light answered his signal. Who cameto the Castle? Barbara's eyes and mine sought the ship; we did not knowthe stranger, but he was expected; for a minute later Darrell ranquickly by us with an eager look on his face; with him was the Countd'Albon, who had come with Madame, and Depuy, the Duke of York'sservant. They went by at the top of their speed and in visibleexcitement. Barbara forgot her anger and haughtiness in fresh girlishinterest.
"Who can it be?" she cried, coming so near to me that her sleeve touchedmine, and leaning over the wall towards where the ship's black hull wasto be seen far below in the moonlight by the jetty.
"Doubtless it's the gentleman whom Madame expects," said I.
Many minutes passed, but through them Barbara and I stood silent side byside. Then the party came back through the gate, which had been openedfor them. Depuy walked first, carrying a small trunk; two or threeservants followed with more luggage; then came Darrell in company with ashort man who walked with a bold and confident air. The rest passed us,and the last pair approached. Now Darrell saw Mistress Barbara anddoffed his hat to her. The new-comer did the like and more; he haltedimmediately opposite to us and looked curiously at her, sparing acurious glance for me. I bowed; she waited unmoved until the gentlemansaid to Darrell,
"Pray present me."
"This, madame," said Darrell, in whose voice there was a ring ofexcitement and tremulous agitation, "is M. de Perrencourt, who has thehonour of serving Her Royal Highness the Duchess. This lady, sir, isMistress Barbara Quinton, maid of honour to the Duchess of York, and nowin attendance on Madame."
Barbara made a curtsey, M. de Perrencourt bowed. His eyes were fixed onher face; he studied her openly and fearlessly, yet the regard wasdifficult to resent, it was so calm, assured, and dignified. It seemedbeyond challenge, if not beyond reproach. I stood by in silence, angryat a scrutiny so prolonged, but without title to interfere.
"I trust, madame, that we shall be better acquainted," he said at last,and with a lingering look at her face passed on. I turned to her; shewas gazing after him with eager eyes. My presence seemed forgotten; Iwould not remind her of it; I turned away in silence, and hastened afterDarrell and his companion. The curve of the wall hid them from my sight,but I quickened my pace; I gained on them, for now I heard their stepsahead; I ran round the next corner, for I was ablaze with curiosity tosee more of this man, who came at so strange an hour and yet wasexpected, who bore himself so loftily, and yet was but agentleman-in-waiting as I was. Round the next corner I should come insight of him. Round I went, and I came plump into the arms of my goodfriend Darrell, who stood there, squarely across the path!
"Whither away, Simon?" said he coldly.
I halted, stood still, looked him in the face. He met my gaze with acalm, self-controlled smile.
"Why," said I, "I'm on my way to bed, Darrell. Let me pass, I beg you."
"A moment later will serve," said he.
"Not a moment," I replied testily, and caught him by the arm. He wasstiff as a rock, but I put out my strength and in another instant shouldhave thrown him aside. But he cried in a loud angry voice,
"By the King's orders, no man is to pass this way."
Amazed, I fell back. But over his head, some twenty yards from us, I sawtwo men embracing one another warmly. Nobody else was near; Darrell'seyes were fixed on me, and his hand detained me in an eager grasp. But Ilooked hard at the pair there ahead of me; there was a cloud
over themoon now, in a second it passed. The next moment the two had turnedtheir backs and were walking off together. Darrell, seeing my fixedgaze, turned also. His face was pale, as if with excitement, but hespoke in cool, level tones.
"It's only M. Colbert greeting M. de Perrencourt," said he.
"Ah, of course!" I cried, turning to him with a smile. "But where did M.Colbert get that Star?" For the glitter of the decoration had caught myeye, as it sparkled in the moonlight.
There was a pause before Darrell answered. Then he said,
"The King gave him his own Star to-night, in compliment to Madame."
And in truth M. Colbert wore that Star when he walked abroad nextmorning, and professed much gratitude for it to the King. I havewondered since whether he should not have thanked a humbler man. Had Inot seen the Star on the breast of the gentleman who embraced M. dePerrencourt, should I have seen it on the breast of M. Colbert deCroissy? In truth I doubt it.
