II
The Coming of William
“My dear David, it is a marvellous scheme.”
Roxhythe turned his hand so that the rings on it flashed in the sunlight.
“It seems very well. But what says the Prince?”
He was walking with the King in the Privy Gardens at Whitehall.
Charles shrugged.
“He has refused hitherto, but this time I think he will consent.”
“Oh. And what says the Lady Mary?”
“She’s a child. Therefore foolish.”
My lord smiled.
“I thought so. And the Duke?”
“David, there are moments when ye would try the patience of a saint! Do you expect me to listen to James his plaints?”
“After all, she is his daughter,” murmured Roxhythe.
“He should not count her above the nation,” returned Charles piously.
Roxhythe’s shoulders shook.
“Oh, lud!”
Charles bit his lip. Then he too burst out laughing.
“Fie on you, David! This time I have the nation’s good at heart.”
“Very well, Sir. So the Lady Mary must be sacrificed.”
“Sacrificed!”
“Sire, you have had but a fleeting glance of your nephew. And that was seven years ago. You have not seen your nephew’s court.”
“No. Is it still so dreary?”
“Ineffably. I do pity the Lady Mary.”
“She will grow accustomed to it,” said Charles comfortably. “At all events the thing must be done.”
“It is wise, I grant you. But you were never so set on it until now. Do I see the hand of Danby?”
“Partly. He is mad for it. I think he is suffering from an attack of patriotism. He is subject to them.”
“Sir, Danby is a waverer. He is greatly disliked.”
“He will last a little longer. He has his uses.”
Roxhythe frowned.
“True. But not much longer. When does the Prince land?”
Charles plucked a rose and twirled it between his fingers.
“Next week. Odds, I am anxious to see him again.”
“Does he know for what he is invited?”
“I suppose so. You say he is no fool.”
“No. Therefore I expect him to comply very readily with your desires. I never understood why he refused before. He is very secret.”
Charles nodded. They pursued their way along the ordered walks. Presently the King waved his hand towards the south side of the gardens where were the Duchess of Cleveland’s apartments.
“Bab swears she is for Paris,” he remarked.
Roxhythe smiled.
“I gather her Grace of Portsmouth has annoyed her?”
“Bab was ever a termagant. I hope she will return, though I have been worn to a shred by her passions. Mine is a hard lot.”
Roxhythe looked inquiringly.
“Why? Because two women quarrel?”
“Oons, no! I was thinking of this marriage.”
“I thought you were so eager for it?”
“On the one side I am; Louis is coming too close. But on the other side I do not wish to offend him. He’ll take this very ill. However, I hope for peace.”
Roxhythe was amused.
“What! Do you think that the dreary argufyers at Nimeguen will have done at last?”
“I do trust so. I count on it.”
“You are grown sanguine, Sir,” said Roxhythe drily.
Across the lawn came Danby, hurrying. He bowed to the King.
“Sire, the latest news is that Buckingham, Salisbury, and Wharton humbly submit, and plead your mercy.”
The King looked at his favourite.
“Very proper,” said my lord. “And Ashley?”
“Oh, Shaftesbury is obdurate, sir! He appeals to the law.”
“Does he so?” said Charles, amused. “What good does he think will come of it?”
“Heaven knows, Sir! I think he hopes to raise an outcry.”
“Very likely. Well, let him appeal. He is out of harm’s way. What of the others, Davy?”
“I should release them, Sir, an they are properly repentant.”
“You hear, Danby?”
“Yes, Sir. Will you sign the orders?”
“Not now. Some other time.”
“Very well, Sir.” Danby bowed and walked away.
“Vengeance is satisfied, Roxhythe?”
“Amply, Sir. He’ll not annoy me again.”
“If he knows whom he has to thank for his imprisonment.”
“Oh, he knows!” replied my lord. “He probably realizes the futility of fighting against it.”
“I am glad that you are not my enemy,” grimaced Charles.
Next week, on the day of the Prince’s arrival, the great hall at the Palace was crowded. The King stood by Lord Danby, talking gaily; a little to his left sat the Queen, Roxhythe at her elbow, the Ladies Mary and Anne behind her. Lord Dorset was near the door, in a knot of courtiers; Killigrew stood by the window, one of another group. Near the King was the Duke of York; his wife, Mary, sat beside the Queen.
The room was a riot of colour, and over all was a buzz of conversation. Then, suddenly, fell a hush. The great curtain at one end was swung back; into the hall came a slight, plainly dressed young man with auburn curls falling about his hawk face. In his wake were some half a dozen gentlemen.
The King stepped forward. As he moved his silks and velvets rustled.
“My dear nephew! We do give you welcome!”
Everyone was craning to see the Prince. Many remembered him, but there were many who had never till this moment set eyes on him.
Roxhythe noticed very little difference in William. He had aged somewhat; his face was keener and more lined. He dressed as soberly as ever, and his manner lacked the courtier’s polish. He seemed strangely out of place in the midst of this gay throng.
William bent the knee, kissing the King’s hand.
“I am honoured to be invited once more to Whitehall, Sir,” he said. He spoke English well, but with a Dutch accent.
Charles patted his shoulder.
“ ’Tis we who are honoured,” he said. “Come, let me present you to Her Majesty!” He led William forward. “You remember Prince William, madame?”
Catherine smiled lifelessly, extending her plump white hand.
The King’s eye roved round the room.
“I think you know most of us, William. I’ll not weary you with introductions!” He bowed to the Duchess of York. “Permit me to present to you Prince William, madame.”
Mary bent her head.
The King smiled at the fair, mischievous girl behind her.
“Come child!”
The younger Mary came to him, swaying her brocades. The King took her hand.
“You have already met our niece, William.”
William looked at her searchingly as he bowed. The full lips pouted a little, the big eyes were downcast. Mary curtseyed.
“Then we have your uncle, William. James, where are you?”
The Duke came forward and took the Prince’s hand.
“We give you welcome, William.”
Again the King looked round.
“I’ll not fatigue you, my poor nephew, with needless presentations. Suffice it is that there stands Lord Dorset, whom you know; over there, Lord Danby, whom you do not know; beside him, Killigrew; a little to the right, our good Sedley. A worthless set, I assure you.”
A shout of laughter went up.
“They set me at naught,” complained the King, twinkling.
William smiled mechanically. He never approved of his uncle’s lack of formality.
Charles beckoned to Roxhythe.
“David! … There is one here, William, whom you know better than us all. Our very dear Roxhythe.”
William turned sharply. Roxhythe made his profoundest leg.
“I am delighted to see Your Highness in England again,” he said.
“Thank you, milor’. I too am delighted to be here. Sire” … he made a sign to his suite. “May I present my friend Bentinck?”
The King was graciously pleased to extend his hand. One by one William presented his little court. Charles had some good-humoured word for each. When Roderick made his bow, he detained him.
“Mr. Dart? We are very pleased to meet you. We do know your brother.”
Roderick bowed again, flushing. He disapproved of Charles most strongly, but there did not live the man who could resist his fascination.
Charles addressed himself to William.
“We grudge you our countrymen,” he smiled. “We can ill spare our patriots.” His glance took in Mynheer Heenvliet. He drew William to a couch and waved his hand to the rest of the room.
“You may all continue your conversations!”
He kept the Prince beside him for some moments, and then he suggested that William might like to retire. William assented thankfully. He went out, escorted by his suite.
Roxhythe strolled up to the King. Arm in arm they walked to one of the windows.
“He has not changed much,” said my lord.
The King shivered.
“Still the iceberg, only that now he is more icy. I had forgotten his eyes.”
“They are rather wonderful, are they not, Sir? And you have not seen them flash.”
William surveyed his bedchamber silently. Everything was very gorgeous, very rich. He turned to the three men who were with him.
“I am tired,” he said. “The journey was very tedious. What have we tonight?”
Heenvliet answered him.
“A State dinner, Sir. You would do well to rest.”
William nodded.
“Yes. How close it is in here! Dart, will you open me that window? And then I will be alone for a while. Bentinck, stay with me.”
The two other men went out. William sank into a chair.
“What an atmosphere! What splendour!”
Bentinck sat down.
“It is a marvellously well appointed palace, Sir. His Majesty was very gracious.”
“Yes. I had forgotten that this was your first visit. You see that my uncle commands great respect for all his lack of etiquette.”
“A curious people these English,” commented Bentinck. “But King Charles is very royal for all his joviality.”
“I have always observed it. You saw my bride to be?”
“Yes, Sir. She is comely enough.”
“And pert.” William sighed. “I suppose it must be.”
“She is very young, Sir.”
“But she has been bred in this atmosphere of luxury and vice. And her father is a Catholic. God knows how it will end.”
Bentinck spoke soothingly.
“Your Highness is despondent today. So young a girl should not be difficult to influence.”
“Mayhap. Did you remark Lord Roxhyt’e?”
“I did, Sir. It was my first sight of him. He is very high with the King, I am told.”
William looked up.
“Oh? You have had speech with one of them?”
“With one Digby, Sir, while you were with the King. It seems that this Roxhyt’e is very powerful.”
“I know. I mislike him, and yet—” he broke off, closing his eyes. Presently he opened them again. “A State dinner, you said?”
“Yes, Sir. In your honour. Shall I tell Jan to put out your dress?”
“Thank you.”
Bentinck left the room. When he returned the Prince was frowning slightly.
“William, did you tell him the orange satin?”
“No, Sir. Do you wish to wear it?”
“I think so. We’ll not appear shabby before these English.”
“Very well, Sir.” Again Bentinck went out.
It was not until next evening that Roderick visited his brother. He found him in, and was taken at once to his room.
Christopher came forward.
“Well, Dick!”
They clasped hands.
“I expected you,” said Christopher. He drew a chair away from the window. “Sit down. I have ordered dinner.”
“You were very sure of me,” smiled Dart. “As it happened it was hard to leave His Highness. They feast him again tonight.”
“Yes? I thought you would come, though.” He moved to the door. “Excuse me one moment.”
Roderick heard him call to the serving-maid. This new Christopher was almost a stranger to him.
“Well, Chris! After seven long years!”
“So it is! I’faith, it does not seem as much. Did you arrive without mishap?”
“A fairly smooth passage. It is good to be in England again.”
“It must be. How have you fared since I saw you?”
“Very well. I have been at the Prince his side throughout.”
“Then you have seen much. How is the Prince?”
“Tired after the gaieties of last night. We are ill-used to such late hours. We live very quietly when we are not in camp.”
“Yes? I suppose there were many people present yesterday?”
“The room was crowded. I saw some familiar faces, but there were many whom I did not know at all. Lord Danby for one.”
Christopher smiled.
“Oh, we have suffered Danby for some time now. An elegant gentleman, is he not? Quite amusing when he likes.”
“You know him?”
“I have met him several times at Bevan House. Was Roxhythe there last night?”
Roderick looked at him narrowly.
“Yes. My Lord was in high good spirits. He had us all a-laughing many times.”
“I expect so. And Sedley?”
“Yes. Chris, I was very pleased to hear that you had left Roxhythe.” So he blundered tactlessly on to the raw.
“Were you?”
“You saw the truth of what I said?”
A little of my lord’s famous manner entered into Christopher. Quite unconsciously he adopted that soft drawl.
“I really forget what you did say. I left Roxhythe for private reasons.”
Roderick stared at him. Then he smiled.
“Very well, we’ll leave it at that.”
Christopher opened his eyes rather wide.
“Certainly we shall leave it at that. Oh, I have an invitation for you!”
“For me?”
“A very dear friend of mine wants to meet you. Lady Frances Montgomery.”
“Not the Duke of Rochefort’s daughter?”
“That is right. Wife of Sir Jasper Montgomery. She is my lord’s cousin and the sweetest, kindest lady I have ever met.”
“So! Well I shall be delighted to see her. When are we invited?”
“When we like. She is always at home in the afternoon. I’ll take you whenever you are at liberty.”
“That will be best. I cannot say as yet, as I do not know what commands His Highness may have for me.”
Dinner arrived noisily. The serving-maid, conscious of responsibility, breathed hard through her nostrils as she laid the places.
Christopher had ordered a very recherché dinner. Life with Roxhythe had taught him much in this respect. Roderick prepared to enjoy himself.
Christopher started to carve a fat partridge.
“You have heard my latest news?”
“No. What is it?”
“Why, I am secretary to the dullest dog in town! Richard Worth.”
“I do not think I know him. Who is he?”
“He belongs to what Roxhythe calls ‘our respected Country Party.’ He seems to have known my father. In fact he never refers to me other than as ‘the son of James Dart.’ He lives in an atmosphere of fuss and dust.”
Roderick laughed, accepting the partridge.
“Really? Why the fuss?”
“Heaven knows! He is perpetually worried, and conceives that the cares of the nation rest on his shoulders alone. He gives every order twice, imagining that by so doing he shows himself a very sharp man. He is most wearisome.”
“He must be. A contrast to Roxhythe.”
Christopher ground his teeth.
“Quite. My lord implores me to eschew his company.”
“Oh—! You still visit Roxhythe?”
“I have not done so as yet. He wrote to me.”
“Indeed! Chris, why are you so secret? I want to know how matters stand between you and Roxhythe.”
Christopher laid down his fork.
“My lord commands my love and loyalty,” he said deliberately.
Roderick was puzzled.
“Still?”
“Always. I told you many years ago that I should continue to love him in spite of all your prognostications. Well, I have. He is the kindest master ever a man had.”
“Ah? And you trusted in him as you swore you would?”
Christopher passed him the wine.
“Of course.”
“And your trust was betrayed?”
“No. Why should it have been?”
“Do you forget that I know that you were in Flanders last year?”
Christopher flung back his head. As he laughed he showed all his white teeth.
“Oh, lud! Roderick you were on the wrong track then! I went to Flanders for my own pleasure! Odds, but I was amused when I read your letter!”
“May I ask why you went to Cherrywood?”
“Of course you may ask. I went to gain a permit to visit the camp.”
“Oh. … But why Cherrywood?”
“He happened to be one of the few in town that day. The Duke and his suite were out chasing.”
“Chris, is that the truth?”
“The truth? What in God’s name do you suppose? Is it likely that I should bear secret dispatches to Monmouth?”
“I confess I hardly thought so. And yet—”
“You are of a suspicious turn of mind, Dick. I am not the man to go on a secret errand.”
“Perhaps you were tricked into it?”
“Perhaps I was. So tricked that I have no memory of delivering any documents at all. Perhaps I went to Flanders in a trance; perhaps I was drugged and the papers foisted upon me!”
“There is no need to mock me,” said Roderick stiffly. “Of course I believe your word.”
“Thank you.” Christopher pushed his chair back. He was very pale.
“No Dart ever acted treacherously towards his Country,” went on Roderick. He eyed a pasty favourably. “No Dart ever lied. Naturally I believe you.”
Christopher got up and flung the window open.
“How close it is in here! Let me—recommend that—pasty, Dick. A little more wine?”
“Thank you. Dear me, you fare well, Chris.”
“Yes,” said Christopher. He shut the window and glanced round the room. “I fare well, as you say.” He smiled, but it was not a happy smile.