XI
Unrest
Summer. Christopher sat on the broad terrace at Bevan Court, looking out across the gardens into the blue haze. Before him the great house reared up its turrets, creeper-hung, against the cloudless sky. Clipped yew hedges dotted the lawns at his feet; flowers grew in stone pots around him. It was very still, very hot. Somewhere a bird was twittering sleepily to its mate; lying on the ground beside Christopher was a huge mastiff, his boon companion.
Christopher contemplated the scene restfully. He felt at peace with the world. So much so that presently he closed his eyes.
Lady Frances came out of the old Gothic door on to the terrace. For an instant she stood irresolute. Then she saw Christopher and smiled.
Christopher felt light hands across his eyes.
“Guess!” whispered my lady, behind him.
He jumped up.
“Lady Frances, of course!”
She came round the seat and sat down. The mastiff wagged his tail; then he went to sleep again.
“How hot it is!” said her ladyship drowsily. “How beautiful!”
Christopher agreed.
“I came out to give you this,” continued Frances. She handed him a packet. “The courier has just arrived.”
Christopher turned it over lazily.
“Roderick,” he said. “Have you any news of my lord?”
“A short note. He is escorting the King here in two days time. He adjures you to have everything in readiness.”
“I don’t think there is anything more to be done,” said Christopher. “I have racked my brains to discover something.”
“There is nothing. Do you read that letter! Perhaps your brother will have news of the Prince.”
Christopher broke upon the seals.
It was late August of 1672. The past years had been fairly uneventful at home except that in October of 1670 the Prince of Orange had come home on a visit to England. Roderick had been in his train, and the brothers had seen a great deal of one another. Roderick had succeeded in annoying Christopher by regarding him in studied gloom, and Roxhythe with scarce veiled disapproval. Christopher was thereby made uncomfortable. He was grateful to my lord for asking Roderick to Bevan House but at the same time he wished that he had not done it. He felt that Roderick was not a credit to him. It afforded him some satisfaction to see that Roderick was impressed by his standing in society. It was very pleasant when Lord Buckhurst strolled into the library where they were seated, and hailed him by his Christian name, asking some questions concerning Roxhythe’s whereabouts. Roderick was so disdainful and affected such superior airs that little incidents such as that filled him with unholy joy.
Abroad much had taken place. In France Madame had died suddenly, mysteriously, some said poisoned. In Holland, William Nassau had gradually broken away from De Witt. Lately he had been made, at twenty-one, Captain-General of the army, and was fighting Louis with all the energy and indomitable courage of his race.
The French generals, Turenne and Condé, had overrun three of the Dutch Provinces, spreading terror before them. Then had been the moment for Nassau to rise. Many of the great cities clamoured for him. At Middleburgh and Amsterdam the people grew unruly. De Witt had been forced to consent to William’s rise. He exacted from him an oath that he would observe the abolition of the Stadtholdership, and sent him to the head of the army. Hope revived; Holland hailed the Prince their preserver.
De Witt suspecting negotiations between England and France, had made a treaty with Spain that broke off the last threads that bound the Triple Alliance together. Charles seized the opportunity to induce his Cabinet to declare war on Holland.
Christopher had watched these proceedings with intense interest. He did not pretend to understand why Ashley headed the desire for war; it was unlike him to wish to ally England with France. Christopher decided that politics were very mysterious.
At home, Charles had introduced his Declaration of Indulgence, permitting religious freedom. It had passed the Houses, and was greeted with murmurous opposition. The Duke of York was publicly received into the Roman Catholic Church. London was uneasy. The sudden closing of the Exchequer caused a stir, and more unrest.
Now it was late summer, and Charles was coming to Bevan Court on a visit. Lady Frances was acting hostess, and Christopher had been sent on in advance to have all in readiness.
An exclamation from him made Lady Fanny start, and open her eyes.
“The De Witts have been murdered!”
Lady Frances sat up.
“Chris!”
Christopher referred to the letter.
“Roderick writes as though ’twere a natural happening! Oddsblood, the man has the heart of a fish! … ‘Yesterday the news was brought to us thatt Jan and Cornelius De Witt have been done to Death by the Mob at the Hague. Soe Perish all His Highness’ Enemies!’ … Zounds!” Christopher crumpled the parchment in his hand. “Murder! Foul murder! I wonder. …”
“What do you wonder? Not. …”
“I wonder what part the Prince played in this dastardly deed.”
“Oh, no, Chris! No, no!”
“Roderick says no more than that ‘so perish all His Highness his enemies.’ Great Heavens!”
Lady Frances took the letter from him.
“May I see?”
“Oh, you may read it! That I should have such a brother!”
She spread open the sheets on her knee.
“… All over the Country the People call for a Stadtholder. At Rotterdam and Amsterdam they Growe unruly. The Prince His Oathe to De Witt absolved by Deathe, taketh the Government into His Owne Hands. Nowe he at last hath His Rightfull Place, after soe Many Yeares Patient Waiting. Nowe he hath Command over All Things, and no Pensionary to Oppose Him. He Hath Grate Plannes for the Repulsion of the Impudent Frenchman, the which, Guided by His Supreme Courage and Steadfast Purpose, He Goes shortly to put into Action. God Aide and Bless His Endeavours! He is a very Upright, Grate Prince, Wise beyond His Yeares, Knoweing not Despair. We of His Household, seeing Him Day by Day Striving always for His Country, Knowe howe Iron is His Will, howe Grate His Truthe. I do Counsel You, my Brother, to Leave thatt Libertine His Service, and to Join me Here, under the Prince His Glorious Standard. This do I Implore You to do for the Love I Bare You, which Love Hateth to see You Working for the Truthless Servant of a King who Lacks Honoure, Loyalty, and all those Things thatt a King should have. …”
“Bah!” snapped Christopher. “What more?”
“There’s little else. The rest concerns you alone.” She handed him the parchment which he thrust angrily into his pocket.
Lady Frances sat with her chin in her hand.
“So that is what Roderick says? Warnings, Chris, warnings!”
“Ay! You are all very anxious for me to quit my lord! And I will not! I know him as you do not! And I hold these warnings in contempt!”
She sighed.
“Don’t eat me, Chris. ’Tis very seldom that I speak to you on this subject after all!”
He took her hand quickly, kissing it.
“Forgive me! I had no right to speak to you like that! You are so good to me! so very good!”
“Oh, nonsense!” She patted his shoulder. “I wonder what they think of this in London? The news will have reached them by now. I would give much to know the inner workings of it.”
“Would you? I had rather not know. It must have been at the Prince’s instigation.”
“It may have been. De Witt was a block in his path. Therefore it was right that De Witt should go.”
“Right? How can you say that?”
Lady Frances’ eyes were narrowed.
“It seems to me that De Witt’s day has been ended some time since. The one man who might save Holland is Nassau. We have seen how he was hampered by De Witt’s cautious vetoes. Well, down with De Witt.”
“I cannot agree!”
“Quite right, dear boy. I hope you never will agree.”
He stared at her.
“You hope—but why?”
“Because it would mean that you had acquired a callous heart, even as all we who have—never mind! Let’s take the news to Jasper.”
They walked slowly back to the house.
The tidings reached my lord at Bevan House as he was in the act of penning an amorous note to Lady Crewe.
His servant came hurriedly into the room. He had been with Roxhythe since his boyhood, and he was permitted these licenses.
“My lord, the De Witts are dead! Murdered!”
John felt more than a casual interest in the news. He had several times seen the Grand Pensionary.
Roxhythe looked up.
“What of it?”
“But, my lord—!”
Roxhythe went back to his writing.
“You disturb me.”
He went later to Whitehall and found it seething with the tale. He was very bored.
The visit to Bevan Court was in every way successful. The King was fêted and feasted most extravagantly. Mademoiselle de Kéroualle, now Duchess of Portsmouth, and mistress-in-chief, came in his train, and was pleased to be very fascinating; the Duke of Monmouth, in high spirits, could talk of nothing but the prospect of his journey to Holland next year at the head of the English troops.
Christopher lived the few days in a positive whirl of excitement. He was very busy, for Roxhythe paid no attention to any of the arrangements, but this did not trouble him. He was helping to entertain the most gracious King in the world; he had kissed this King’s hand; the King had spoken to him several times; his cup was full.
All through the winter Roxhythe continued to make trifling and spasmodic love to Lady Crewe. Christopher watched, troubled. He saw that Millicent was taking his master very seriously, and he was sorry, for he knew that Roxhythe was beginning to weary of her. He dared not speak to him on the subject, but he was a tenderhearted boy, and he wished that my lord would amuse himself with someone older, and more accustomed to the game. He saw that Millicent was not treating it as a game any longer. He saw also that Sir Henry Crewe was less and less at his wife’s side, and had begun to look at her coldly. He wondered how it would end.
Meanwhile, great changes were taking place in England. Ashley, now the Earl of Shaftesbury, was Chancellor, and led the Cabinet. The long recess of Parliament still went on. The Country party was more than ever opposed to the Court party and dissension was growing apace.
From Harcourt Christopher learned that the Declaration of Indulgence was becoming more and more unpopular. War with Holland was imminent; the King continued to amuse himself.
Roxhythe still ignored the universal unrest. Christopher was more than ever sure that he had no interest in politics, was of no party, and was above all the petty jealousies and intrigues that went on daily. Now and then he went to Paris, but mostly he was at Whitehall, pursuing his brilliant course. Christopher no longer puzzled over these visits to France. Roxhythe had assured him that his vague fears were groundless; he trusted Roxhythe.
And so the year crept out, and the New Year was upon them.