"So you admit having been kidnapped?" asked Castlemain, with little effort to conceal her vindictiveness.
"Sunday, say you?" asked Frances.
"Yes, Sunday noon, in the public streets, and Sunday night in a country house," returned Castlemain.
"Let me see," said Frances, pausing for a moment to recall what she had been doing at the time of the supposed kidnapping. Then turning to the Duchess of York, who stood beside her, and who, she felt sure, would catch the hint and help her out, she asked, "Were we not playing at cards in your Grace's parlor Sunday afternoon?"
"Sunday afternoon?" repeated the duchess, quite willing to thwart Castlemain's design. "Yes, my dear, Sunday afternoon. Yes, we began just after dinner, and it was almost dark when we stopped. Don't you remember I said, after we had lighted the candles, that I wished my husband could afford to give me wax in place of tallow?"
We all laughed except the king, who became very much interested, and of course, excepting Castlemain, who was rapidly losing her head in anger.
After the duchess had spoken, the king asked, with as careless an air as he could assume:—
"At what hour, sister, did Mistress Jennings leave your parlor?"
"I think it was about four o'clock," replied her Grace. "She asked permission to spend the night with her father, and Baron Clyde called about four o'clock to escort her. Was not that the hour, baron?"
"Yes, your Grace," I answered, bowing. "I accompanied my cousin to her father's house, returned later to fetch her back to the palace, but she did not care to face the storm, so I remained till ten o'clock, returned to Whitehall, and slept till morning. Here is another witness," I continued, laughing, as I turned to John Churchill, who was standing near the king. "Step forward, Churchill, and testify. I left him making his suit to one of the most interesting ladies in London."