III.—KING CHARLES III.
There were great preparations at Balquhalloch Castle for the worthy reception of the king; and but for the fact that the editor, who was also the sole reporter, of the Aberdumble Warder was at the time confined to his house from indisposition, the whole matter would no doubt have found its way into the papers. The Princess spared neither trouble nor expense. Two Aberdumble carpenters arrived, and erected opposite the porter’s lodge a wooden triumphal arch. An Aberdumble painter followed after them, and inscribed upon the arch, in large red letters on a blue ground, a legend welcoming His Majesty to his own again. And when the painter had departed, the Princess, accompanied by Tom Checkstone and Father M‘Fillan, drove into Aberdumble and hired all the flags in the town. She also subsidised the local brass band, the members of which she instructed to be at the castle at a given hour, prepared to play at her behest the stirring strains of Who’ll be King but Charlie, and as many other Jacobite tunes as they knew or could learn meanwhile; and she further engaged four pipers, who were to stand just within the castle gate and salute her royal nephew in their most tremendous style. It must be confessed that the Princess was a trifle indiscreet. She undoubtedly laid herself open to a prosecution for treason-felony, if not indeed for treason of the highest and most deadly type; but fortunately for her, the Aberdumble people had grown accustomed to her eccentricities, and not a soul dreamt of gainsaying her will and pleasure in the matter. She therefore returned with a carriage-load of flags, which she caused to be festooned from the battlements. In her own boudoir and with her own fingers, she had long since worked in silk a faithful copy of the old royal standard of Scotland, and this she ordered to be run up on the flagstaff that surmounted the keep, whenever the king should set foot within the castle walls. Furthermore, she directed that at that auspicious moment her head-butler, assisted by one of her stable-boys, should begin the firing of a royal salute from an old brass gun that stood upon the western wall; and in order to provide for this, she purchased in Aberdumble, Archie M‘Pherson the ironmonger’s entire stock of sporting-powder.
Betimes there came a telegram for the Princess. ‘Shall be with you,’ it ran, ‘at noon to-morrow;’ and it had been despatched by Charlie from the telegraph office in Fleet Street, London.
The Princess passed the night in a state of the utmost excitement. Instead of retiring to rest, she paced to and fro until daylight began to dawn; and it was only at Tom’s urgent entreaty that she then consented to repair to her boudoir and lie down for a few hours. She had talked of attempting to raise the country side, and of going to the railway station at the head of her kilted and armed retainers, to welcome her nephew; but Father M‘Fillan’s more sensible counsel prevailed. He pointed out that nothing could be gained by undue haste, and that any ill-advised display of force would probably end in the speedy collapse of the movement long ere it could ripen and bear good fruit. The fact is that, but for the common-sense of the chaplain, the Princess would have done a thousand rash deeds. Fortunately, he had constituted himself her temporal as well as spiritual adviser; and being a man of extraordinary kindness and goodness, he had easily won the Princess’s confidence. He regarded her as a harmless maniac, and believed that there would be no danger in humouring her within due bounds; nor did he conceal his opinions from Tom Checkstone, who, while professing to coincide with them, fully made up his mind to carry on the game until it should bring some decided advantage to himself and his friend Charles Stuart.
The Princess, accompanied by Father M‘Fillan, and by Tom, who rode, drove to Aberdumble Station without the retinue of armed tenants; and, punctual to the appointed hour, the king’s train arrived. The Princess would have respectfully kissed His Majesty’s hand; but Charlie, with right royal condescension, embraced his aunt and kissed her upon both cheeks. Then, having graciously shaken hands with Tom and the priest, he entered the carriage, which was driven rapidly back to Balquhalloch. A few children followed it for a short distance, but they were soon left behind, and it was not until the castle was well in sight that any further signs of excitement and expectation became visible.
The first loyal greeting came from Daft Andy M‘Gregor, an old fellow of eighty-seven. He had heard from his grandfather of the great doings of the ’45; and fully believing that patriotism required it of him, he stood at his cottage door waving a rusty claymore, and flang his bonnet into the air as the carriage rolled quickly by. A more formal welcome awaited the king at the gateway of the castle. The porter’s eldest son, in his Sunday clothes, walked gravely forward, bearing on a cushion the castle keys, and, with profound obeisance, presented them to Charlie, who as gravely received them and gave them into Tom’s custody. At that moment the four pipers struck up; and the carriage, as it passed through the gateway, was saluted by a boom from the old brass gun. Tears stood in the Princess’s eyes, as, giving her hand to Father M‘Fillan, she alighted. ‘Thank heaven for this day!’ she exclaimed devoutly; while in a louder voice she added: ‘God save the king!’
The cry was taken up by all the servants and tenants who had collected in the courtyard, and was accentuated by a second boom from the brass gun. Thus acclaimed, the king, supported by Tom, walked into the great hall, and was thence conducted by the Princess herself to his private apartments.
‘The first thing,’ she whispered to him, ‘will be to hold a council.’
‘Of course!’ assented Charlie. ‘We must hold a council at once. Let me see. May Tom—I mean Mr Checkstone—act as my private secretary until I can appoint some one else to the post?’
‘Most certainly! Your Majesty’s wishes are commands. I will send Mr Checkstone to you.’ And the amiable Princess respectfully kissed her nephew and retired.
A minute later, Tom peeped in at Charlie’s door and entered his room. The two young men at once burst into fits of suppressed laughter.
‘It is really too bad!’ exclaimed Charlie. ‘You can’t imagine how difficult it has been for me to keep my countenance.’
‘Never mind; you have done very well so far,’ returned Tom. ‘I am to be your private secretary pro tem., and you are to hold a council. I must therefore beg your Majesty to graciously nominate your councillors.’
‘Whom shall I nominate? There is Father M‘Fillan.’
‘And Alexander Gordon, the factor; he is a presentable sort of fellow.’
‘And my aunt, the Princess.’
‘Ah, the constitution doesn’t permit you to nominate women.’
‘Well, then, we four can hold the council, if the council must be held,’ said Charlie.—‘Now, how am I to comport myself?’
‘Father M‘Fillan understands, of course, that we are only masquerading; but you mustn’t let him know that you have even the most distant designs on your aunt’s money-bags, for he would spoil the game in an instant if he did know it. As for Sandy Gordon—to him you must be the king, the whole king, and nothing but the king. If I were you, I should knight him. It would consolidate his loyalty.’
‘I’ll make him a baronet, if you like,’ assented Charlie. ‘It won’t cost any more.—But what are we to do in council?’
‘To decide upon your plan of action,’ said Tom. ‘And we may as well settle that here. The decision must be that no public steps are to be taken at present.’
‘Quite so.—But don’t, Tom, push matters too far. I only want to be able to marry Kate, you know; and really five hundred a year from my aunt would satisfy me.’
‘All right, old fellow; you shall have a thousand.—But now to business. I will go and announce the nomination of councillors. The council will meet in the drawing-room in half an hour. Shave yourself, and make yourself look as royal as possible. There was to be a valet to wait upon you, but he hasn’t yet arrived from Edinburgh.—How they are pounding away with that absurd brass gun! Fortunately, the powder has almost run out, so you won’t be troubled with your full salute.’ And Tom disappeared.
The first sitting of King Charles III.’s council was not a long one. The decision at which Charlie and Tom had already arrived was, of course, adopted. Sandy Gordon was offered, but modestly declined, the honour of knighthood; and Father M‘Fillan was commissioned to inform the Princess that the king did not deem it expedient for the present to take any public steps to assert his authority beyond the loyal precincts of Balquhalloch.
The Princess, who for nights had been dreaming of rebellion, was grievously disappointed, and sought to bend her nephew’s determination. After dinner, when for a short time she was alone with him, she talked the matter over.
‘Well, my dear aunt,’ said the king at last, ‘I need not tell you that if we organise a rising, I must put myself at the head of it. And if I put myself at the head of it, I must of necessity risk my life. At present, as you know, I am not married. I am the last male of our house. Ought I not, before facing the danger, to look to the interests of my race, and indeed of the country? If I had a son, or even a daughter, I could go forth with a lighter heart to battle; for in that case my death would not mean the inevitable extinction of all our hopes. You, it is true, would succeed me, but only for a few short burdensome years; and with you the line would pass out of existence.’
‘True,’ assented the Princess; ‘you certainly ought to marry, and to marry quickly. But whom can you marry? Who is worthy of you? Your royal grandmother was a Tudor, a worthy spouse for my father of sacred memory. But there are no Tudors now; and besides, you ought not to marry a cousin. I fear that you must seek an alliance on the continent, among the Bourbons or the Hapsburgs.’
‘Why not among the English Plantagenets?’ asked the king.
‘Would that some remained,’ ejaculated the Princess.
‘But one does remain,’ said Charlie. ‘The fact is that I have had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of one whom I have determined to wed; and, my dear aunt, she is a Plantagenet. Mr Checkstone, who has the honour of her acquaintance, will tell you about her.’
‘Indeed!’ exclaimed the Princess. ‘This news greatly rejoices me. Let Mr Checkstone write to her at once in my name and ask her to come and visit me. I will judge of her worthiness.’
‘You had better write,’ suggested the king. ‘Why not write informally, as my aunt. You must remember that we cannot yet afford to risk anything by publicly hinting at my pretensions, much less by boldly proclaiming to the country and the powers that be that I intend to seize the crown.’
The Princess reflected; but she gave way, and, for once in her life, signed herself simply Henrietta Maria Stuart.
In due course Kate received the invitation. It was accompanied by a private letter from Charlie; and when she had read the two communications, she forfeited a month’s salary and quitted her situation. A few days had to be spent in preparing for the visit to so large and grand an establishment as she knew Balquhalloch to be; but in less than a week after hearing from Miss Stuart, Catharine Plantagenet left London for Scotland.