CHAPTER II
When I was out in the air I stopped short; and then remembering that Mr. Chiffinch would be after me perhaps, and would try to prevent me, I went on as quick as I could, turned a corner or two in that maze of passages, and stopped again. As yet I had no idea as to what to do; my brain burned with horror and fury; and I stood there in the dark, clenching my hands again and again, with my whip in one of them. It was enough for me that my Cousin Dolly was in that den of tigers and serpents that was called the Court, and under the protection of the woman once called Carwell. There was not one thought in my brain but this—all others were gone, or were but as phantoms—the King, the Duke, Monmouth, the Queen—they would be so many wicked ghosts, and no more—before me—and I would go through them as through smoke, to tear her out of it.
I suppose that some species of sanity returned to me after a while, for I found myself presently pacing up and down the terrace by the river, and considering that this was a strange hour—eight o'clock at night, to be searching out one of Her Majesty's ladies; and, after that, little by little, persons and matters began to take their right proportions on them again. I could not, I perceived, merely demand where Mistress Jermyn lodged, beat down her door and carry her away with me safe to Hare Street. Their Majesties of England still stood for something in Whitehall, and so did reason and commonsense, and Dolly's own good name. I began to perceive that matters were not so simple.
I do not think I reasoned at all as to her dangers there; but I was as one who sees a flower on a dunghill. One does not argue about the matter, or question whether it be smirched or not, nor how it got there. Neither did I consider at all how my cousin came to be at Court, nor whether any evil had yet come to her. I did not even consider that I did not know whether she were but just come, or had been there a great while. I considered only that she must be got out of it—and how to set about it.
I might have stood and paced there till midnight, had not one of the sentinels at the water-gate—placed there I suppose, as Mr. Chiffinch had told me just now, as an additional security, after nightfall—stepped out from his place and challenged me. I had had the word, of course, as I came in; and I gave it him, and he was contented. But I was not. Here, thought I, is my opportunity.
"Here," said I, "can you tell me where Mistress Dorothy Jermyn is lodged?"
He was a young fellow, plainly from the country, as I saw, by his look in the light of the lantern he had.
"No, sir," he said.
"Think again," I said. "She is under the protection of Her Grace of
Portsmouth. She is one of the Queen's ladies."
"Is she a little lady, sir—from the country—that came last month?"
"Yes," I said, feigning that I knew all about it, and trying to control my voice. "That is she."
"Why, she is with the others, sir," he said.
"She is not with the Duchess then?"
"No, sir; I know she is not. There is no lady with the Duchess beside her own. I was on my duty there last week."
This was something of a relief. At least she was not with that woman.
Now I knew where the Queen's Maids lodged. It was not an hundred yards away, divided by a little passage-way from Her Majesty's apartment, and adjoining the King's, with a wall between. There were five of these; besides those who lodged with their families—but they changed so continually that I could not be sure whether I knew any of them or not. I had had a word or two once with Mademoiselle de la Garde; but she was the only one I had ever spoken with; and besides, she might no longer be there; and she was a great busybody too; and beyond her I knew only that there was an old lady, whose name I had forgot, that was called Governess to them all and played the part of duenna, except when she could be bribed by green oysters and Spanish wine, not to play it. Such fragments of gossip as that was all that I could remember; as well as certain other gossip too, as to the life of these ladies, which I strove to forget.
However, I could do nothing at that instant, but bid the man good-night, and go up into the palace again with a brisk assured air, as if I knew what I was about. A bell beat eight from the clock-tower, as I went. Then when I had turned the corner to the left, I stopped again to reckon up what I knew.
This did not come to very much. Her Majesty, I knew, was attended always by two Maids of Honour at the least; and at this hour would be, very likely, at cards with them, if there were no reception or entertainment. If there were, then all would be there, and Dolly with them; and even in that humour I did not think of forcing my way into Her Majesty's presence and demanding my cousin. These receptions or parties or some such thing, were at least twice or three times a week, if Her Majesty were well. The reasonable thing to do, I confess, was to go home to Covent Garden, quietly; and come again the next day and find out a little; but there was very little reason in me. I was set but upon one thing; and that was to see Dolly that night with my own eyes; and assure myself that matters were, so far, well with her.
At the last I set out bravely, my legs carrying me along—as it appears to me now—of their own accord: for I cannot say that I had formed any design at all of what I should do; and there I found myself after a minute or two of walking in the rain, at the door of the lodgings where all the ladies that had not their families at Court lived together. There were three steps up to the heavy oaken door that was studded over with nails; and in the little window by the door a light was burning. I had come by the sentinel that stood before the way up to the King's lodgings, and had given him the word; but I saw that he was watching me, and that I must shew no hesitation. I went therefore up the steps, as bold as a lion, and knocked upon the oaken door.
I waited a full minute; but there was no answer; so I knocked again, louder; and presently heard movements within, and the sound of the bolts being drawn. Then the door opened, but only a little; and I saw an old woman's face looking at me.
She said something; but I could not hear what it was.
"Is Mistress Jermyn within doors?" I asked.
The old face mumbled at me; but I could not hear a word. "Is Mistress
Jermyn within?" I asked again.
Once again the face mumbled at me; and then the door began to close.
This would never do; so I set my foot against it, suddenly all overcome with impatience—(for I was in no mood to chop words)—and with the same kind of fury that had seized me in Mr. Chiffinch's rooms. I saw red, as the saying is; and it was not likely that a deaf old woman would stop me. She fluttered the door passionately; and then, as I pushed on it, she cried out. There was a great rattle of footsteps, and as I came into the little paved entrance, a heavy bald fellow ran out of the room where I had seen the light—(which was the porter's parlour)—in his shirt-sleeves, very angry and hot-looking.
He looked at me, like a bull, with lowered head; and I saw that he carried some weapon in his hand.
"Is Mistress Jermyn within doors?" I asked, putting on a high kind of air.
"Who the devil are you?" said he.
I was not going to argue that point, for it was the weakest spot in my assault. So I sat down on the stairs that rose straight up to the first floor. (It was a little oak-panelled entrance that I was in, with a single lamp burning in a socket on the wall.)
"You will first answer my question," I said. "Is Mistress Jermyn within doors?"
Then he came at me, thinking, I suppose that my sitting down gave him an advantage, and he lifted his weapon as he came. I had no time to draw my own sword—which was besides, somewhere between my legs; but I rose up, and, as I rose, struck out at his chin with all my force, with my whole weight behind.
He staggered back against the doorway he had come out by; and the same moment two things happened. The old woman screamed aloud; and Dolly sprang suddenly out on to the head of the stairs, from a door that opened there, full into the light of the lamp.
"Why-" cried she.
"Oh! there you are," I said bitterly. "Then Mistress Jermyn is within doors."
Then I turned and went straight upstairs after her; and, as I went heard the ring of running footsteps in the paved passage out of doors, and knew that the guard was coming up. The fellow still leaned, dazed, against the doorpost; and the old woman was pouring out scream after scream.
I went after Dolly straight into the room from which she had come. It was a little parlour, very richly furnished, with candles burning, and curtains across the windows. It looked out towards the river, I suppose. Dolly was standing, as pale as paper; but I could not tell—nor did I greatly care—whether it were anger or terror. I think I must have looked pretty frightening—(but then, she had spirit enough for anything!)—for I was still in my splashed boots and disordered dress, and as angry as I have ever been in my life. I could see she was not dressed for Her Majesty; so I supposed—(and I proved to be right)—that she was not in attendance this evening. It was better fortune than I deserved, to find her so.
"Now," said I, "what are you doing here?"
(I spoke sharply and fiercely, as to a bad child. I was far too angry to do otherwise. As I spoke, I heard the guard come in below; and a clamour of voices break out. I knew that they would be up directly.)
"Now," I said again, "you have your choice! Will you give me up to the guard; or will you hear what I have to say? You can send them away if you will. You can say I am your cousin?"
She looked at me; but said nothing.
"Oh! I am not drunk," I said. "Now, you can—"
Then came a thunder of footsteps on the stairs; and I stopped. I knew I had broken every law of the Court; I had behaved unpardonably. It would mean the end of everything for me. But I would not, even now, have asked pardon from God Almighty for what I had done.
Then Dolly, with a gesture, waved me aside; and confronted the serjeant on the threshold.
"You can go," she said. "This is my cousin. I will arrange with them below."
The man hesitated. Over his shoulder I could see a couple more faces, glaring in at me.
Dolly stamped her foot.
"I tell you to go. Do you not hear me?"
"Mistress—" began the man.
"How dare you disobey me!" cried Dolly, all aflame with some emotion.
"This is my own parlour, is it not?"
He still looked doubtfully; and his eyes wandered from her to me, and back again. He was yet just without the room. Then Dolly slammed to the door, in a passion, in his very face.
Then she wheeled on me, like lightning. (I heard the men's footsteps begin to go downstairs.)
"Now you will explain, if you please—" she began, with a furious kind of bitterness.
"My maid," said I, "that kind of talk will not do with me"—(for at her tone my anger blazed up higher even than hers). "It is I who have to ask Why and How?"
"How dare you—" she began.
I went up without more ado, and took her by the shoulders. Never in all the time I had known her, had the thought ever come to me, that one day I might treat her so. She struggled violently, and seemed on the point of crying out. Then she bit her lip; but there was no yielding in me; and I compelled her backwards to a chair.
"You will sit there," I said. "And I shall stand. I will have no nonsense at all."
She looked at me, I thought, with more hate than I had ever seen in human eyes; glaring up at me with scorn and anger and resentment all mingled.
"Yes—you can bully maids finely—" she said. "You can come and cringe for their protection first—"
I laughed, very short and harsh.
"That manner is of no good at all—" I said. "You will answer my questions. How did you come here? How long have you been here?"
She said nothing; but continued to look at me. Then again my anger rose like a wave.
"Do you think to stare me down?" I said. "If you will not answer me,
I'll begone to those who will."
"You dare not!"
"Dare not! Do you think to frighten me?—Dolly, my dear, I am not in the mood to argue. Will you tell me how you came here, and how long ago? I must have an answer before I go."
For an instant she was silent.
"Will you go straight home again if I tell you?"
"Yes—I will promise that," said I—for now that I had seen her with my own eyes most of what I desired was done. The rest could wait twelve hours.
"Well, then," she said, "I have been here a month; and my father put me here."
"Your father!"
"Yes, my father. Have you anything to say against him?"
"No: I will say it to him."
I wheeled about to go to the door.
"You have done enough mischief then, you think!" sneered Dolly.
I turned about again.
"Mischief!"
"Why, you have ruined my name," said Dolly, with the savage look in her eyes still there. "But you did not think of that! You thought only of yourself. The whole palace will know to-morrow that you beat down the porter to force your way in. And it will not lose in the telling."
I had nothing to say to that. It was true enough, and the very kind of talk with which the Court continually diverted itself. But I would not show my dismay. Indeed the very thought of any trouble to her had no more occurred to my mind than the consequences to a charging bull.
"We will see about that," I said, "when I speak with His Majesty."
Dolly laughed again, but without merriment.
"Oh! you will do this and that, no doubt," she said. "And when shall you see His Majesty?"
I took out my watch.
"It is nearly nine," I said. "I shall see His Majesty in thirteen hours.
You had best be packing your valises. We shall ride at noon."
I waited no more to hear her laugh, as she did again; but went out and down the staircase. The porter's chamber had its door half open: I pushed the door and went in. The fellow started up.
"Here is a guinea," said I, throwing one upon the table; "and my apologies. But 'twas you that began it!"
Then I turned and went out.
As I came down the steps into the little lamplit way, a man was coming swiftly up it from the direction of the court, with one of the guards behind him. I stopped short, thinking I was to be arrested. But it was the page.
"Good God!" he said. "You have done finely indeed!"
I was still all shaking; and I simulated anger without any difficulty.
"And whose fault is that?" said I, as if in a fury. "Do you think—"
"And His Majesty may come by at any instant!" he said.
"Why; that is what I wish. In any case I must see him at ten o'clock to-morrow."
"You are mad!" he said. "You had best begone to the country before dawn: and even that will not save you." He looked over his shoulder at the young man who had fetched him, and who now stood waiting.
"Save me! What have I done? I have but been to visit my cousin." (I said this very loud, that the guard might hear.)
Again Mr. Chiffinch looked over his shoulder, and back again. I could see the shine of lanterns where others waited behind. We were just outside the King's lodging.
"Well, sir," he said. "But you will go now, will you not?"
"Why, yes," I said. "And I will be with you at half-past nine to-morrow."
He beckoned the young soldier up.
"See this gentleman to the gate," he said. "He will find his way home, after that."