I
The Triple Game
“Trouble, trouble, naught but trouble!” Charles flung out his hands hopelessly. “Shaftesbury, Russell, Cavendish! What is to be done?”
Roxhythe smiled.
“Do you despair, Sir?”
“Do I ever despair? But this combination means endless toil, endless dissension. Shaftesbury is mine enemy.”
“To counteract Shaftesbury you have Sunderland.”
“Whom I would not trust.”
“Nevertheless he may prove useful. And there is Halifax.”
“He blows hot and cold.”
“But mostly cold.”
“What do you mean, David?”
“I wonder that you have not observed Halifax more closely, Sir. When the greater party blows hot, he blows cold. You’ll find him opposed to Shaftesbury.”
“It may be so. You think he’ll support me?”
“If you are the losing side, Sir, yes. If you are the stronger he will not matter.”
“True. But that will not help us now. I see trouble stirring for James. The people wax unruly.”
“His Grace acts very imprudently. You would be wise to remove him, Sir. While he remains in England the Protestant cause will keep fresh in England’s mind.”
“Remove him … ay, but where?”
“Does it signify? Send him where he cannot stir up agitation by his foolish behaviour.”
Charles sat up.
“I believe you are right, David. I’ll send him to Brussels.”
“It will suffice. At least he will be out of harm’s way.”
“Yes. But I do not think he will thank me.”
“Perhaps not.”
“He’ll be greatly incensed. It may be that he will suspect your hand in the matter.”
“Probably. It does not worry me.”
Charles stroked one of his dogs reflectively.
“Do you think that by doing this I shall avert the storm against his succession? I do not.”
“No, Sir. You will modify it.”
“It will still mean a fight. Shaftesbury is determined to exclude him.”
“Sire, most men are determined. Nearly all your new ministers are at one on the question. But I think that there will be dissension.”
“Why?”
“They will not all want the same successor.”
“You think some will stand for Monmouth?”
“I do expect it, Sir. Prince William is not every man’s choice.”
“No. And Monmouth is popular. He would be the people’s choice, but I cannot believe that the Cabinet would consent to it.”
“We shall see. In the meantime, Sir, I propose to act.”
Charles leaned back in his chair.
“I were not King without you, Davy. You’ll help me to overthrow the coming cry for exclusion?”
“I will.”
The King looked at him curiously for a moment.
“Roxhythe, what are your own sentiments?”
“I’ve none. I care not what happens after you are gone. England may have James, or Mary, or Monmouth. It is all one to me. All that matters is your pleasure.”
“I would I had more of your mind about me! What do you think of doing?”
Roxhythe sat down on the nearest chair.
“I shall throw myself into the cause against His Grace of York. Secretly.”
The King’s brow contracted in bewilderment.
“Go on.”
“His Grace of York’s dislike for me is well known. That adds colour to my attitude. I approach Shaftesbury when the time comes, with great caution. I am a thought fearful of discovery, you understand. I think that it were best for me to act secretly for fear of incurring Your Majesty’s displeasure.”
“I do not think that they will trust you.”
“They will undoubtedly have misgivings. But my support in the matter would be invaluable. They would count on my exerting my influence to sway you ’gainst the Duke.”
“Ay, but what then?”
“When I have convinced the worthy Shaftesbury of my wholehearted sincerity I shall enter deep into the inner workings of the affair.”
“Which you will impart to me?”
“Which I shall impart to you. I think I may be instrumental in bringing about the fall of our friend Ashley.”
“You are clever enough for anything,” admitted Charles. “But this is a big risk.”
“No. They can but disbelieve in me, and I do not think they will do that. They will see that if the Duke succeeds you I must fall. It is the popular belief that I work primarily for my own ends.”
Charles nodded.
“If all this should come to James his ears you are ruined—when I die, my David.”
“That matters not at all, Sir.”
“I might confide in James. …”
“I beg you will not, Sir! He is so incautious. And he mistrusts me. He would not believe that I was working in his interests.”
“I do not suppose he would. Especially if he guesses by whose advice he is sent to Brussels.”
“He’ll guess that, of course. He suspects my hand in everything. His mistrust will but further my machinations.”
“Very well, Roxhythe, I consent.”
The favourite laughed.
“Did you mean to withhold your consent, Sir?”
“I’ve no wish to ruin you, David.”
“Why, I am ruined already. What happens after your death is no matter at all.”
“Well, I do not think I shall die yet,” said Charles placidly.
After welcoming the new Parliament with wild enthusiasm, England settled down to enjoy a panic concerning Papists and Papist heirs. This panic my Lord Shaftesbury fostered lovingly. He was a brave man, but the rest of the Council were not. They hesitated at bringing in an Exclusion Bill. But they agitated with the rest.
For a short space Shaftesbury supported the King’s suggested Bill of Securities, but he decided at last that it was not strong enough, and laid it aside. He prevailed upon the Council to bring in a Bill excluding James from the throne and devolving it upon the next Protestant heir. The Commons liked the Bill, and passed it. My Lord Shaftesbury anticipated trouble in the other House, and he instructed the Commons to prepare a Remonstrance.
Charles deemed it prudent to prorogue his Parliament.
The trouble fermented. My Lord Shaftesbury held meetings and discussions. So did my Lords Halifax, Essex, and Sir William Temple, the Secretary of State. Into these meetings was introduced the magic name of Roxhythe.
Lord Holles mentioned my lord first. He was dining with Shaftesbury.
“I believe I have set my finger on a weak spot in the King’s armour,” he remarked. He peeled a nut, and ate it.
The Earl was all attention.
“What have you discovered, Holles?”
Holles ate another nut.
“I have reason to think that his favourite stands against him.”
“Roxhythe? Impossible!”
“On the contrary. If you think for a moment you will see that it is more than probable.”
“You think that Roxhythe realizes that the accession of James would be his downfall?”
“Well, he is no fool.”
Shaftesbury pushed back his chair, frowning.
“I would never trust Roxhythe.”
“Except when he works for himself.”
“Less than ever then.”
“I disagree. I discern signs of uneasiness in my lord.”
“I can’t believe that Roxhythe would ever betray his feelings.”
“They were very slight signs, I admit. I fancy he is working for the exclusion.”
Shaftesbury sat biting his nail, his face in worried lines.
“If it were so it would help the cause more than anything else.”
“So I think. I know that he dined with Savile twice last week.”
“With Halifax! That means he favours the accession of Mary!”
“It is more likely that he has not thought of Monmouth. Monmouth should be more to his taste.”
“Holles, I wish that I might be sure of this! If one could trust him he would be invaluable. He has so much influence.”
“Why not sound him?”
“How?”
“Invite him to dinner.”
“Quite impossible. I do not visit him.”
“Then let me. I’ll also invite you.”
Ashley bit his nail again, irresolute.
“If he would come—”
“Oh, he will come! He often dines with me.”
“I do not think that he would ever work for a party.”
“It remains to be seen. It is just possible that our great Roxhythe is a little apprehensive.”
Two days later Roxhythe exhibited a letter to his master.
“I am bidden to Holles tomorrow, Sir.”
“Really?” Charles took the letter. “How amiable he is! They mean to probe you, David.”
My lord smiled serenely. He accepted the invitation.
During dinner at Lord Holles’ house he excelled himself. He talked on every subject but one, and that one politics; witticisms flowed from his tongue, and if they annoyed Shaftesbury, they delighted his host.
When the servants had at last left the room, Lord Holles filled up the glasses, and, not without regret, brought the conversation round to home affairs. He began cautiously, for Ashley had implored him to be very circumspect in what he said before Roxhythe. He leaned back in his chair, tilting it slightly.
“We are all idle since our prorogation, Roxhythe—and somewhat disgruntled!” He grimaced ruefully. “I should not say that to you, I suppose.”
Roxhythe stared into his glass.
“Yes, the Bill seems to have failed.”
“The poor Bill! But we must not weary you with it. You understand it is something of an obsession! However, I know you are not interested. Shaftesbury, a little Burgundy?”
“Why should I not be interested?” asked Roxhythe. “Of course—it really does not affect me. …” He left a pause.
Holles shot a look at the Earl.
“Why I rather thought ye were above our discussions! But—well, you are not always at one with his Grace of York, are you?”
He achieved a roguish smile.
Roxhythe touched his lips with his napkin.
“Not always,” he said.
Holles thought it as well to change the subject. He was an artist, he flattered himself. Presently he would let the conversation glide back to politics. He was annoyed when Shaftesbury, always impatient, came abruptly back to the all-important topic.
“Of course, if we have James we are assured of Papist successors.”
Roxhythe looked up quickly.
“Oh, ’tis not the successors—” he stopped. “Do you think so?”
Holles replenished his glass. Since Shaftesbury had so tactlessly reintroduced the subject it had best be continued.
“With both parents Catholic, what would you?” he asked. “We ought to have a Protestant heir.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see Shaftesbury’s apprehensive gaze, full of warning.
Roxhythe was gloomy.
“Yes, but Mary means the Prince of Orange.”
“True.” Holles returned Shaftesbury’s look steadily. “You do not like the thought?”
Roxhythe sipped his wine, of a sudden languid.
“In truth it concerns me not.”
There was no more political talk that evening.
When Roxhythe had gone, Holles returned to Shaftesbury, triumphant.
“What did I say?”
“Yes,” agreed the Earl. “But he is not desirous of joining us. I think he still ponders.”
“Evidently. And you see that he does not relish the idea of the Orange. We must secure him, my lord.”
“If we can—if ’tis safe. He does not give much away.”
“Except that he wants the exclusion.”
“I wonder. …” Shaftesbury frowned uncertainly. “It may have been that he wished us to infer that.”
Holles was derisive.
“My dear Ashley! One could see that he was perturbed by his manner. Did you not think so?”
“Yes—and no.”
“It was palpable! He must be cajoled to our side.”
“I do not like it!” Shaftesbury spoke curtly. “I do not trust Roxhythe. He might ruin us.”
“But will he? Do you not see that he must at all costs exclude James? He knows that the Duke hates him.”
“I do not expect him to work against the King.”
“Rest assured that he would never do so openly. So much the better.”
“If we invite him to be one of us we take too great a risk.”
“I do not agree. If we do not snare him he may go over to Temple’s party. He has too much influence in the Upper House to be counted lightly. You do not want the Orange.”
“No, damme! But could he influence the House to that extent?”
“I think it more than likely. And if we set Monmouth up as the heir Roxhythe could very easily influence the King to ruin him.”
“If he became one of Temple’s party that is what he would do, of course. Well. … But I do not like it!”
“Leave it to me!” said Holles.
My Lord Roxhythe repaired to Whitehall. The King went apart with him.
“We progress,” said my lord tranquilly. “I am advocate for Mary, I am advocate for Monmouth.”
“ ’Sblood, David, does Shaftesbury really think to set Monmouth on the throne when I am gone?”
“So I gather. Temple wishes to bring Prince William to England to accustom the mind of England to the idea of his succession. But Shaftesbury will have none of it.”
“And you?”
“Very secretly I am with Temple—say Halifax. Not wholly. They are still in doubt about me. Shortly I shall be one of Shaftesbury’s band. Then we shall see.”
“It must be damned entertaining!” exclaimed the King.
“It is damned hard work!” retorted Roxhythe.