CHAPTER XXXV.
Wilton Brown, on quitting the King, did not find Lord Sherbrooke where he expected; but little doubting that he should have to encounter a full torrent of wrath from the Earl of Byerdale, on account of his having concealed the fact of the Duke of Berwick's visit to England, he set spurs to his horse to meet the storm at once, and proceeded as rapidly as possible to the Earl's office at Whitehall. His expectations were destined to be disappointed, however. Lord Byerdale was all smiles, although as yet he knew nothing more than the simple fact that Captain Churchill had acknowledged his presence at a scene in which he had certainly played no part. His whole wrath seemed to turn upon Arden, the Messenger, against whom he vowed and afterwards executed, signal vengeance, prosecuting him for various acts of neglect in points of duty, and for some small peculations which the man had committed, till he reduced him to beggary and a miserable death.
He received Wilton, however, without a word of censure; listened to all that passed between him and the King, appeared delighted with the result; and although, to tell the truth, Wilton had no excuse to offer for not having communicated the facts to him before, which he had abstained from doing simply from utter want of confidence in the Earl, yet his lordship found an excuse himself, saying,—
"I'm sure, Wilton, I am more obliged to you even than the King must be, for not implicating me in your secret at all. I should not have known how to have acted in the least. It would have placed me in the most embarrassing situation that it is possible to conceive, and by taking the responsibility on yourself you have spared me, and, as you see, done your self no harm."
Wilton was puzzled; and though he certainly was not a suspicious man, he could not help doubting the perfect sincerity of the noble lord. All his civility, all his kindness, which was so unlike his character in general, but made his secretary doubt the more, and the more firmly resolve to watch his conduct accurately.
A few days after the events which we have just related, the Duke of Gaveston and Lady Laura left Beaufort House for the Earl's seat in Hampshire, which Lord Aylesbury had pointed out as the best suited to the occasion. It was painful for Wilton to part from Laura; but yet he could not divest his mind of the idea that Lord Byerdale did not mean altogether so kindly by the Duke as he professed to do, and he was not sorry the latter nobleman, now that he could do so without giving the slightest handle to suspicion, should follow the advice of Lord Aylesbury.
By this time Wilton had become really attached to the Duke; the kindness that nobleman had shown to him; the confidence he had placed in him; the leaning to his opinions which he had always displayed, would naturally have excited kindly and affectionate feelings in such a heart as Wilton's, even had the Duke not been the father of her he loved best on earth. But in the relative situation in which they now stood, he had gradually grown more and more attached to the old nobleman, and perhaps even the very weaknesses of his character made Wilton feel more like a son towards him.
To insure, therefore, his absence from scenes of political strife, to guard against his meddling with transactions which he was unfitted to guide, was a great satisfaction to Wilton, and a compensation for the loss of Laura's daily society. Another compensation, also, was found in a general invitation to come down whenever it was possible to Somersbury Court, and a pressing request, that at all events he would spend the Sunday of every week at that place. In regard to all his affairs in London, and more especially to everything that concerned Sir John Fenwick and the conspiracy, the Duke trusted implicitly to Wilton; and the constant correspondence which was thus likely to take place afforded him also the means of hearing continually of Laura.
He was not long without seeing her again, however; for it was evident that Lord Byerdale had determined to give his secretary every sort of opportunity of pursuing his suit with the daughter of the Duke.
"Did you not tell me, Wilton," he said one day, "that your good friend the Duke of Gaveston had invited you to come down and stay with him at Somersbury?"
"He has invited me repeatedly, my lord," replied Wilton, "and in a letter I received yesterday, pressed his request again; but seeing you so overwhelmed with business, I did not like to be absent for any length of time. I should have gone down, indeed, as I had promised, on Saturday last, to have come up on Monday morning again; but if you remember, on Saturday you were occupied till nearly twelve at night with all this business of Cook."
"Who, by the way, you see, Wilton, has said nothing against your friend," said the Earl.
"So I see, indeed, my lord," replied Wilton. "What will be done with the man?"
"Oh, we shall keep the matter over his head," said the Earl, "and make use of him as an evidence. But to return to your visit to the Duke—I can very well spare you for the next week, if you like to go down on Monday; and now that I know your arrangements, will contrive that you shall always have your Saturday evenings and Monday mornings, so as to be able to go down and return on those days, till you become his grace's son-in-law, though I am afraid fair Lady Laura will think you but a cold lover."
Wilton smiled, well knowing that there was no such danger. The Earl's offer, however, was too tempting to be resisted, and accordingly he lost no time in bearing down, in person, to Somersbury Court the happy intelligence that Cook, who was to be the conspirator most feared, it seemed, had said nothing at his trial to inculpate the Duke.
His journey, as was not uncommon in those days, was performed on horseback with a servant charged with his valise behind him, and it was late in the day before he reached Somersbury; but it was a bright evening in May; the world was all clad in young green; the calm rich purple of the sunset spread over the whole scene; and as Wilton rode down a winding yellow road, amidst rich woods and gentle slopes of land, into the fine old park that surrounded the mansion, he could see enough to show him that all the picturesque beauty, which was far more congenial to his heart and his feelings than even the finest works of art, was there in store for him on the morrow.
On his arrival, he found the Duke delighted to receive him, though somewhat suffering from a slight attack of gout. He was more delighted still, however, when he heard the news his young friend brought; and when, after a few moments, Laura joined him and the Duke, her eyes sparkled with double brightness, both from the feelings of her own heart at meeting again the man she loved best on earth, and from the pleasure that she saw on her father's countenance, which told her in a moment that all the news Wilton had brought was favourable.
The result to the Duke, however, was not so satisfactory as it might have been. In the joy of his heart he gave way somewhat more to his appetite at supper than was prudent, ate all those things that Sir George Millington, his good physician, forbade him to eat, and drank two or three glasses of wine more than his usual portion. At the time, all this seemed to do him no harm, and he spoke somewhat crossly to his own servant who reminded him of the physician's regulations. He even shook his finger playfully at Laura for her grave looks upon the occasion, and during the rest of the evening was as gay as gay could be. The consequence, however, was, that about a quarter of an hour after Wilton had descended to the breakfast-room on the following morning, Laura came down alone.
"I am sorry to say, Wilton," she said, with a slight smile, "that my dear father has greatly increased his pain by exceeding a little last night. He has scarcely slept at all, I find, and begs you will excuse him till dinner-time. He leaves me to entertain you, Wilton. Do you think I can do it?"
Wilton's answer was easily found; and Laura passed the whole morning with him alone.
Certainly neither of the two would have purchased the pleasure at the expense of the Duke's suffering; but yet that pleasure of being alone together was, indeed, intense and bright. They were both very young, both fitted for high enjoyment, both loving as ardently and deeply as it is possible for human beings to love. Through the rich and beautiful woods of the park, over the sunny lawns and grassy savannas—where the wild deer, nested in the tall fern, raising its dark eyes and antlered head to gaze above the feathery green at the passers by—Wilton and Laura wandered on, pouring forth the tale of affection into each other's hearts, gazing in each other's eyes, and seeming, through that clear window lighted up with life, to see into the deepest chambers of each other's bosom, and there behold a treasury of joy and mutual tenderness for years to come.
In the midst of that beautiful scene their love seemed in its proper place—everything appeared to harmonize with it—whereas, in the crowded city, all had jarred. Here the voices of the birds poured forth the sweetest harmony upon their ear as they went by; everything that the eye rested upon spoke softness, and peace, and beauty, and happy days; everything refreshed the sight and made the bosom expand; everything breathed of joy or imaged tranquillity.
The words, too, the words of affection, seemed more easily to find utterance; all the objects around suggested that imagery which passion, and tenderness, and imagination, can revel in at ease; the fanciful clouds, as they flitted over the sky, the waving branches of the woods, the gay sparkling of the bright stream, the wide-extending prospect here and there, with the hills, only appearing warmer and more glowing still, as the eye traced them into the distance—all furnished to fancy some new means of shadowing forth bright hopes, and wishes, and purposes. Each was an enthusiastic admirer of nature; each had often and often stood, and pondered and gazed, and admired scenes of similar loveliness; each, too, had felt deep and ardent affection for the other in other places; and each had believed that nothing could exceed the joy that they experienced in their occasional solitary interviews; but neither had ever before known the same sensations of delight in the beautiful aspect of unrivalled nature, neither had tasted the joy which two hearts that love each other can feel in pouring forth their thoughts together in scenes that both are worthy to admire.
Nature had acquired tenfold charms to their eyes; and the secret of it was, that the spirit of love within their hearts pervaded and brightened it all. Love itself seemed to have gained an intensity and brightness in those scenes that it had never known before, because the great spirit of nature, the inspiring, the expanding genius of the scene, answered the spirit within their hearts, and seemed to witness and applaud their affection.
Oh, how happily the hours went by in those sweet words and caresses, innocent but dear! oh, how glad, how unlike the world's joys in general, were the feelings in each of those young hearts, while they wandered on alone, with none but love and nature for their companions on the way! On that first day, at least to Laura, the feeling was altogether overpowering: she might have had a faint and misty dream that such things could exist, but nothing more; but now that she felt them, they seemed to absorb every other sensation for the time, to make her heart beat as it had never beat before, to cast her thoughts into strange but bright confusion, so that when she returned with Wilton, and found that her father had come down, she ran to her own room, to pause for a few moments, and to collect her ideas into some sort of order once more.
Day after day, during Wilton's stay, the same bright round of happy hours succeeded. During the whole of the first part of his sojourn, the Duke was unable to go out, and Wilton and Lady Laura were left very much alone. Wilton felt no hesitation in regard to his conduct. He could not believe, he scarcely even feared, that the Duke was blind to the mutual love which existed between Laura and himself; and he only waited till his own fate was cleared up, to speak to her father upon the subject openly.
Thus passed his visit; and we could pause upon it long, could paint many a scene of sweet and sunshiny happiness, warm, and soft, and beautiful, like the pictures of Claude de Lorraine: but we have other things to do, and scenes far less joyous to dwell upon. The time of his stay at length expired, and of course seemed all the more brief for being happy.
If the sojourn of Wilton at Somersbury Court had given pleasure to Laura, it gave scarcely less to the Duke himself, though in a different way; and when his young visitor was gone, he felt a want and a vacancy which made the days seem tedious. Thus, shortly after Wilton's arrival in town, he received a letter from the Duke, begging him not to forget his promise of another speedy visit of longer duration, nor neglect the opportunity of each week's close to spend at least one day with him and Laura. The origin of these feelings towards his young friend was certainly to be traced to the somewhat forced confidence which he had been obliged to place in him, in regard to Sir John Fenwick; but the feelings survived the cause; and during six weeks which followed, although Sir John Fenwick was universally supposed to have made his escape from England, and the Duke felt himself quite safe, Wilton experienced no change of manner, but was greeted with gladness and smiles whenever he presented himself.
On every occasion, too, the Earl of Byerdale showed himself as kind as it was possible for him to be; and in one instance, in the middle of the year, spoke to him more seriously than usual, in regard to his marriage with Lady Laura. The tone he took was considerate and thoughtful, and Wilton found that he could no longer give a vague reply upon the subject.
"I need not say to your lordship," he said, "how grateful I feel to you in this business; but I really can tell you no more than you see. I am received by the Duke and Lady Laura, upon all occasions, with the greatest kindness and every testimony of regard. I am received, indeed, when no one else is received, and I have every reason to believe that the Duke regards me almost as a son; but of course I cannot presume, so long as I can give no information of who I am, what is my family, what are the circumstances and history of my birth, to seek the Duke's approbation to my marriage with his daughter. Fortuneless and portionless as I must be, the proposal may seem presumptuous enough at any time; and though the legend told us, my lord, to 'be bold, and bold, and everywhere be bold,' it told us also to 'be not too bold.'"
"You are right, you are right, Wilton," replied the Earl. "But leave it to me: I myself will write to the Duke upon the subject, and doubt not shall find means to satisfy him, though I cannot flatter you, Wilton—and I tell you so at once—I cannot flatter you with the idea of any unexpected wealth. Your blood is your only possession; but that is enough. I will write myself in a few days."
"I trust, my lord, you will not do so immediately," replied Wilton. "You were kind enough to promise me explanations regarding my birth. Others have done so, too." (The Earl started.) "Lord Sunbury," continued Wilton, "promised me the same explanation, and to give me the papers which he possesses regarding me, even before the present period; but he returns in September or October, and then they will of course be mine."
"Ha!" said the Earl, musing. "Ha! does he? But why does he not send you over the papers? he is no farther off than Paris now; for I know he obtained a passport the other day, and promised to look into the negotiations which are going on for peace."
"I fancy, my lord," replied Wilton, "that in the distracted state of both countries he fears to send over the papers by any ordinary messenger."
"Oh, but from time to time there are council messengers," replied the
Earl. "There is not a petit maitre in the whole land who does not
contrive, notwithstanding the war, to get over his embroidery from
France, nor any old lady to furnish herself with bon-bons."
"I suppose he thinks, too," replied Wilton, "that, as he is coming so soon, it is scarcely worth while, and, perhaps, the papers may need explanations from his own mouth."
"Ah! but the papers, the papers, are the most important," replied the Earl, thoughtfully. "In September or October does he come? Well, I will tell you all before that myself, Wilton. I thought I should have been able to do it ere now; but there is one link in the chain incomplete, and before I say anything, it must be rendered perfect. However, things are happening every day which no one anticipates; and though I do not expect the paper that I mentioned for a fortnight, it may come to-morrow, perhaps."
About ten days after this period, Wilton, as he went to the house of the Earl of Byerdale, remarked all those external signs and symptoms of agitation amongst the people, which may always be seen more or less by an observing eye, when any event of importance takes place in a great city. They were, perhaps, more apparent than usual on the present occasion; for in the short distance he had to go he saw two hawkers of halfpenny sheets bawling down unintelligible tidings to maids in the areas, and two or three groups gathered together in the sunshiny morning at the corners of the streets.
When he reached the Earl's house, he found him more excited than he usually suffered himself to be, and holding up a letter, he exclaimed,—
"Here's an account of this great event of the day, which of course you heard as you came here. This is a proof how things are brought about unexpectedly. Not a man in England, statesman or mechanic, could have imagined, for the last six weeks, that this dark, cold-blooded plotter, Sir John Fenwick, had failed to effect his escape."
"And has he not?" exclaimed Wilton, eagerly. "Is he in England? Has he been found?"
"He has not escaped," replied the Earl, dryly. "He is in England; and he is at the present moment safe in Newgate. Some spies or other officers of the Duke of Shrewsbury discovered him lingering about in Kent and Sussex, and he has since been apprehended, in attempting to escape into France."
"This is indeed great intelligence," replied Wilton. "I suppose there is no chance whatever of his being acquitted."
"None," answered the Earl; "none whatever, if they manage the matter rightly, though he is more subtle than all the rest of the men put together. It seems likely that the whole business will fall upon me, and I shall see him in a few days; for he already talks of giving information against great persons, on condition that his life be spared."
Wilton concealed any curiosity he might feel as well as he could, and went on with the usual occupations of the day, not remarking as anything particular, that the Earl wrote a long and seemingly tedious letter, and gave it to one of the porters, with orders to send it off by a special messenger.
On going out afterwards, he found that the tidings of Sir John Fenwick's arrest had spread over the whole town; and the rumour, agitation, and anxiety which had been caused by the plot, and had since subsided, was, for the time, revived with more activity than ever. As no one, however, was mentioned in any of the rumours but Sir John Fenwick himself, Wilton did not think it worth while to make the mind of the Duke anxious upon the subject till he could obtain farther information; and he therefore refrained from writing, as it was now the middle of the week, and his visit was to be renewed on the Saturday following. A day passed by without the matter being any farther cleared up; but on the Friday, when Wilton visited the Earl at his own house, he found him reading his letters with a very cloudy brow, which however, grew brighter soon after he appeared.
Wilton found that some painful conversation must have taken place between the Earl and his son; for Lord Sherbrooke was seated in the opposite chair, with one of those listless and indifferent looks upon his countenance which he often assumed during grave discussions, to cover, perhaps, deeper matter within his own breast. The Earl, though a little irritable, seemed not angry; and after he had concluded the reading of his letters, he said, "I must answer all these tiresome epistles myself, Wilton: for the good people who wrote them have so contrived it, in order, I suppose, to spare you, and make me work myself. I shall not need your aid to-day, then; and, indeed, I do not see why you should not go down to Somersbury at once, if you like it; only be up at an early hour on Monday morning.—Sherbrooke, I wish you would take yourself away: it makes me angry to see you twisting that paper up into a thousand forms like a mountebank at a fair."
"Dear papa," replied Lord Sherbrooke, in a childish tone, "you ought to have given me something better to do, then. If you had taught me an honest trade, I should not have been so given to making penny whistles and cutting cockades out of foolscap paper. Nay, don't look so black, and mutter, 'Fool's cap paper, indeed!' between your teeth. I'll go, I'll go," and he accordingly quitted the room.
"Wilton," said the Earl, as soon as his son was gone, "I have one word more to say to you. When you are down at Somersbury, lose not your opportunity—confer with the Duke about your marriage at once. The political sky is darkening. No one can tell what another hour may bring. Now leave me."
Wilton obeyed, and passed through the ante-room into the hall. The moment he appeared there, however, Lord Sherbrooke darted out of the opposite room and caught him by the arm, almost overturning the fat porter in the way.
"Come hither, Wilton," he said, "come hither. I want to speak to you a moment. I want to show you a present that I've got for you."
Wilton followed him, and to his surprise found lying upon the table a pair of handsome spurs, which Lord Sherbrooke instantly put in his hand, saying, "There, Wilton! there. Use them to-night as you go to Somersbury; and, amongst other pretty things that you may have to say to the Duke, you may tell him that Sir John Fenwick has accused him of high treason. My father is going to write to him this very night, to ask him civilly to come up to town to confer with him on business of importance. You yourself may be the bait to the trap, Wilton, for aught I know. So to your horse's back and away, and have all your plans settled with the Duke before the post arrives to-morrow morning."
The earnestness of Sherbrooke's manner convinced his friend that what he said was serious and true, and thanking him eagerly, he left him, and again passed through the hall. Lord Byerdale was speaking at that moment to the porter; but he did not appear to notice Wilton, who passed on without pausing, sought his own lodgings with all speed, mounted his horse, and set out for Somersbury.