IV
Progression
At Drury Lane Christopher met Harcourt. They sat side by side in the Pit, and during the intervals, exchanged confidences. After the play they went together to partake of supper. When the dishes had been set before them Harcourt shook his head at Christopher.
“Oh, Chris, you are very wily!”
Christopher sampled a pasty.
“Am I? Why?”
“You led me to think that your master was no plotter.”
It was a bold attack, but it failed.
“Nor is he.” Christopher went on with the pasty.
Harcourt laughed long and low.
“Why, Chris, have you heard none of the rumours current in town?”
“I hear a good many lies. Which one is this?”
“That the King made a treaty with France some time back—secretly.”
“Oh, that!” Christopher was scornful. “I wonder you give ear to these rumours, Harcourt.”
“But my dear boy, men say that it was for that reason that we went to war with Holland!” He was watching Christopher closely.
“Men will say anything,” replied Dart. It was a very fair imitation of Roxhythe’s style.
Harcourt’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you fencing with me, I wonder?”
Christopher looked up, smiling.
“Odso! I? No.”
It was impossible to look into his clear, honest eyes and to disbelieve his word. Harcourt was puzzled.
“I have heard it said also that Roxhythe worked the intrigue. You remember how often he was in Paris?”
“Ay. And I know why. It was not intrigue.”
“Oh! Then you do not think that the King allied himself with France behind our backs?”
“Of course I do not. Is that a wild duck?”
Harcourt pushed the dish towards him. Christopher had a fine, healthy appetite.
“I don’t trust the King,” said Harcourt profoundly.
“You must always be mistrusting someone, Sydney,” said Christopher, amused. “What’s to do now?”
“Why were we deprived of Shaftesbury? Why have we this Danby?”
“God knows. I don’t meddle in politics. You had best ask Shaftesbury himself. I hear he is much with your master.”
Harcourt frowned.
“Perhaps I shall. Is it possible that you can trust Danby?”
“I hardly know him,” said Christopher. He attacked the wild duck with some vigour.
“But his policy! It is all cringing to the Court.”
“Is it?”
“I mislike his distribution of money. It smacks of bribery.”
“Sydney, I recommend this bird—oh, I beg your pardon! yes, bribery. Certainly.”
“Associating with Roxhythe has made you very careless,” reproved his friend.
“I have already told you that I do not meddle in what I do not understand. I have abundant faith in His Majesty’s discretion—and that is all there is to it. How is Madame Harcourt?”
Harcourt gave it up, and Christopher promptly forgot the conversation.
Later in the week he called on Lady Frances to whom he was more than ever attached.
She greeted him gaily. With her was Lady Crewe, and Christopher saw that Millicent had been crying.
“Do I intrude?” he asked, smiling.
“By no means!” answered Frances. “We are delighted to see you, are we not, Millicent?”
Lady Crewe assented. Christopher kissed both their hands, and sat down. For a short space he entertained them with snatches of gossip. Lady Crewe was palpably ill-at-ease and anxious to be gone. Before very long she rose, murmuring excuses.
Lady Frances took her hand.
“Must you go? Well, I’ll not press you to stay, as I know how busy you are. Chris, wait for me!” She went out with Millicent.
When she returned, Christopher looked at her, one eyebrow raised inquiringly.
“Well?”
“Well what?” asked her ladyship, swinging her brocades.
“I want to know.”
“Inquisitive child! Again what?”
“Is it all at an end between Lady Crewe and Roxhythe?”
Fanny sat down beside him.
“Thank heaven, yes! You noticed, then?”
“Since March he has hardly ever been at her side.”
“And she mopes and lies awake nights thinking of him. It’s a sad coil, Chris.”
“So I always thought. Lady Crewe looks very sick.”
Frances tapped her fan against the table.
“Because she hath a fool for husband! ’Pon rep, Chris, I’ve no patience with the man! Oh, I’ll tell you the whole story! You can be discreet, I know. In March I gave a ball; you remember? Well, they were both present. Roxhythe took Millicent into my little parlour and as far as I can gather there was something of a fracas. He discovered that he felt fatherly towards her and I suppose that he saw that she was too much in earnest for peace and quiet. To do him justice, I believe he meant to be kind then. They bade one another farewell, or some such nonsense, and the child wept very grievously. Roxhythe is too fascinating. At that moment in walked the husband! Conceive the tableau! Roxhythe brought Millicent to me, and went back to Sir Henry. According to him, Sir Henry was all for a duel, but he’d have none of it, and left the poor man disconsolate. No doubt he was very rude. Since then he has eschewed Millicent’s society. Tant mieux. All would then have been well had it not been for Crewe’s heroics. So Roxhythe calls it. Instead of treating the matter tactfully, he first raved at the child, and then turned a cold shoulder to her. They scarcely speak; each goes his own road, and each is very properly unhappy.
“I told Sir Henry he was a fool—yes, was it not brave of me?—and I told him to take Millicent away and be kind to her. Oh, he could have won her back! Instead he took her down into the country where she fretted herself to death. Now she thinks that she hates Crewe. I’ve talked to the man till I am tired, and to no avail. In fact, he sent me about my business. And so they go their ways. Millicent yearns for Roxhythe, because she wants love and Henry seems to have none for her. She sees David at all the houses they visit, and in that way the wound is kept open.”
“I see,” said Christopher. “I had some notion of this, of course, but I did not know all. One does not question Roxhythe.”
“No,” agreed her ladyship. “One does not. I am very worried over this affaire. I must say that since the fracas Roxhythe hath not paid much heed to Millicent. But they meet everywhere—and Roxhythe is all too magnetic. The child fancies herself madly in love with him.”
“I had not thought that. True, she does not look well, and she is less gay, but she scarce glances in Roxhythe’s direction.”
“Oh, she hath her pride!” said Frances. She sighed a little, and fell silent. After a few moments she smiled reminiscently.
“Chris, who do you think waited on me yesterday?”
Christopher shook his head.
“Who?”
“Our new Earl!”
“What, Danby?”
“No less. Was it not amusing? I barely know him, and now, suddenly, he comes to see me!”
“Perhaps he has long been an admirer,” said Christopher, twinkling.
Her lightening smile flashed out.
“No such thing. He wanted to prove me concerning Jasper’s political sentiments.”
“Did he? What are his sentiments?”
“If I knew I do not suppose that I should tell you, my dear boy.”
“As I am aware that you do know, I take that as a very decided snub!”
“Soit! I’ll tell you: Jasper belongs to no party.”
“Wise man.”
“So I think. I mislike this Danby.”
“That is curious,” remarked Christopher. “I met Harcourt the other day and he said much the same thing.”
“Harcourt is very often right. Why does he object to Danby?”
“I forget. Something concerning bribery, I think. He mistrusts everyone. Even the King is not above reproach.”
“Oh?” Lady Frances studied her fan. “Of what does he suspect the King?”
“Some tittle-tattle about selling England to France. Harcourt swallows every wild rumour that is current and firmly believes in it. ’Tis the way of his party.”
“I don’t think that, Chris. Harcourt usually has grounds for his suspicions.”
“Oh, he hath for this one, the war with Holland, and Shaftesbury’s resignation.”
“Ah! By the way, Chris, is not Shaftesbury your friend?”
“Hardly. He was a friend of my father’s and he has been very kind to me. Lately I have eschewed his company as he cannot meet me without deploring my regard for Roxhythe.”
“I see. That regard is as strong as ever?”
“An hundred times more strong!” said Christopher warmly.
Lady Frances said nothing.
Not ten minutes after Christopher had departed, Montgomery came quickly into the room. Lady Frances laid down her embroidery.
“Well, Jasper?”
Montgomery flung himself into a chair. His face was overcast.
“Has His Majesty been at the House today? Is the dispute ended?”
“He has ended it very summarily.”
“Oh? What has happened?”
“We are prorogued.”
Lady Frances started. Her eyes crinkled at the corners; she laughed beneath her breath.
“My dear Jasper, he is a marvellous man!”
Montgomery shrugged despairingly.
“It passes all bounds. We were all in a turmoil over this question of privilege—Shaftesbury’s doing, of course. Had it to do with the Test, or had it not? The Houses were at one another’s throats; the King could do naught to settle the dispute. So he prorogued us. I tell you, Fanny, he’ll o’er-reach himself ere long. First we had Danby foisted upon us. By sheer force we made peace with Holland. That was February of last year. Did Charles recall the troops? No! He gives us shuffling answers. ’Tis my belief he is in French pay. There was dissension. Then Danby employs a little bribery, and all is quiet. The House turns against Lauderdale, as well it might. There was talk of impeachment. More bribery. No more talk of impeachment. Next we have the No-Popery cry, Danby heading it, the King—ostensibly—seconding.
“Then the bill offered to the Lords—no person to sit in either House, or to hold any office without declaring all resistance to the King’s power criminal, or without swearing never to attempt to alter the government of Church or State. Pretty, was it not? Well, the opposition arose and debated. So we have next a standing order attached: no oath should ever be imposed the refusal of which should deprive a peer of his seat or vote. Shaftesbury evidently thought it would pass, so what must he do but pick a quarrel with the Lords on Privilege. So were we all in a turmoil. Whereupon Charles prorogues Parliament. ’Tis a scandal, Fanny!”
She nodded.
“And the Bill?”
He pulled down the corners of his mouth.
“I’ll swear we have heard the last of that.”
“So it is ended. At least ’tis no triumph for Danby.”
“No.” He fell silent, watching her moodily.
“What of Scotland?” asked Frances at length.
“No decision; matters drift on. ’Pon honour, Fanny, the country is in a grievous state! A dissolute King, and a sycophant for minister! I had sooner have Shaftesbury for all his faults.”
“Yes. …” Lady Frances was frowning. “But Shaftesbury was not to be trusted.”
“As we have seen. I think no one is to be trusted save it be my Lord Halifax.”
“Oh, Halifax!” she laughed. “He’ll do naught because he cares not enough one way or the other. He hath the wit, though.”
“I have a great opinion of him. … Who has been here today?”
“No one of any moment. Millicent, and later, Chris Dart.”
“Dart. Fanny, have you ever learnt anything from that young man?”
“He knows nothing.”
“He could throw no light on these suspicions concerning the King and France?”
“He spoke of it today. He is quite in the dark.”
“So Roxhythe was not in any intrigue in that quarter?”
“I do not say that.”
“My dear Fan! If his private secretary knows naught—?”
Lady Frances laid down her needle.
“Roxhythe works alone. I believe that when Madame came to England in ’70, it was to negotiate with Charles for Louis. I believe also that Roxhythe was the King’s agent.”
Montgomery was worried, but still unconvinced.
“I do admire your intelligence, my dear, and true it is that all men eye Roxhythe askance since those rumours began. And yet. …”
“Wait,” said Lady Frances. “My instinct never errs.”
A servant came into the room, holding the door wide.
“My Lord Roxhythe, your ladyship.”
“Speak of the devil … !” muttered Montgomery. He rose.
Roxhythe entered. He was dressed in shades of mauve and silver.
Lady Frances laughed at him.
“Roxhythe, you are like an autumn evening!” she told him.
“Then I am inappropriately clad,” he replied, bowing over her hand. “Montgomery, ye seem mighty solemn.”
“Ay.” Jasper forced a smile. “You’ve heard the latest news?”
“I believe so. Fitzjoyce is engaged to fight Digby out at Islington. On account of Digby’s fair spouse.”
“I referred to State affairs,” said Montgomery stiffly. “The King has prorogued Parliament.”
“So he has. I remember now.”
“I fear he will go too far if he continues to behave in this wise.”
“Oh? His move is not approved of?”
“Hardly.”
Roxhythe handed Lady Fanny to a seat, and sat down beside her.
“Well, well. He will be distressed.”
Montgomery spoke boldly.
“Roxhythe, you possess more influence than does anyone. Why do you not exert it?”
Lady Frances looked quickly from one to the other.
“Why should I?” asked my lord blandly.
“ ’Twere in the interests of the country.”
“Um,” said Roxhythe profoundly. “But I never meddle in what concerns me not.”
Fanny saw the colour rise to her husband’s cheeks. She gave a little gurgle of laughter.
“There’s for you, Jasper! And now we’ll talk of something else, an it please you.”
“I’ll not stay then,” answered Montgomery brusquely. “I am like to cast a blight on my Lord Roxhythe’s conversation.” He left the room with a slight bow to Roxhythe.
Lady Frances looked troubled. Roxhythe regarded her amusedly.
“I seem to have upset your worthy husband,” he remarked.