Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

In politeness, as in everything else, there are of course various shades of difference very perceptible to observation, yet hardly tangible by language: thus, when the abbot had read the Duke of Buckingham's letter, the character which it gave of Sir Osborne caused a very discernible change to take place in his manner, though in what it consisted it would be difficult to say. He had always been polite, but his politeness became warmer: when he spoke it was with a smile; and, in short, it was evidently an alteration in his mind, from the mere feeling of general benevolence which inhabits every good bosom, to the sort of individual kindness which can only follow some degree of acquaintance. He expressed much gratification at the idea of Lady Katrine Bulmer having the advantage of the knight's escort, more especially, he said, as the news from Rochester became worse and worse. But Sir Osborne, he continued, had better speak with the lady herself, when they could form such arrangements as might be found convenient; for Lady Katrine had a good deal of the light caprice of youth, and loved to follow her own fantasies. He then sent some directions to the prior concerning matters of discipline, and gave orders that the attendants of Sir Osborne should be brought to the hospitaler, whose peculiar charge it was to entertain guests and strangers; and this being done, he led the way towards that part of the abbey which contained the sisters of the order, preceded by a monk bearing a large key.

Separated throughout by a wall of massy masonry, no communication existed between the two portions of the building, except by a small iron door, the key of which always remained with the abbot, and by some underground communications, as it was whispered, the knowledge of which was confined also to his bosom. Of these subterranean chambers many dark tales of cruelty and unheard-of penances were told as having happened in former ages, when monastic sway had its full ascendant; but even their very existence was now doubtful; and when any one mentioned them before the abbot he only smiled, as a man will do at the tales of wonder that amaze a child. However that may be, the way by which he led the young knight to the female side of the monastery was simply through the cloisters; and having arrived at the door of communication, he took the key from the bearer, unlocked it himself, and making the knight pass into the cloister on the other side, he locked the door and rejoined him.

The place in which they now were was a gloomy arcade, surrounding a small square court, in the centre of which appeared a statue of Scholastica, the sister of Saint Benedict; and several almost childish ornaments evinced the pious designs of the good sisters to decorate their patroness. But, notwithstanding all their efforts, it was a dreary spot. The pointed arches of the cloister resting upon pillars of scarce a foot in height; the thick embellishments of stone-work forming almost what heralds would call a bordure fleurée round the archways; together with the towering height of the buildings round about, took away the scanty light that found its way into deep recesses of the double aisle, and buried all the second or inner row of arches in profound shadow.

Another small door appeared on the left of the abbot, who still held the key in his hand; but stopping, he pointed along the cloister to the right, and said, "My son, I must here leave you, for I go to my sister's apartment, to have the lady called to the grate, and no layman must pass here; but if you follow that arcade round the court till you see a passage leading again towards the light (you cannot miss your way), you will come to the convent court, as it is called, and exactly opposite you will find a door which leads to the grate. There I will rejoin you."

The knight followed the lord abbot's direction; and proceeding round the first side of the square, was turning into the second, when he thought he saw the flutter of a white garment in the shadowy part of the inner aisle. "It is some nun," thought he: but a moment's reflection brought to his mind that the habit of the Benedictines was always black; and it may be that curiosity made him take a step or two somewhat faster than he did before.

"Open the door, and make haste, Geraldine," said a female voice, in a low tone, but one that, nevertheless, reverberated by the arches, reached the knight's ears quite distinctly enough for him to hear the lady proceed.

"He must be on horseback, I think, by the quickness of his pace and the clanking of his hoofs. Cannot you open it? Run across the court, then, silly wench, quick! or Gogmagog will have you;" and with a light laugh, the lady of the white robe darted out from the archway, and tripped gracefully across the court, with her long veil flowing back from her head as she ran, and showing fully the beautiful brown hair with which it was mingled, and the beautiful sunny face which it was meant to hide, but which, fully conscious of its own loveliness, was now turned with a somewhat playful, somewhat inquisitive, somewhat coquettish glance, towards the knight.

Following close behind her was a pretty young woman, dressed as a servant-maid, who ran on without looking to the right or left, and who, probably being really frightened, almost tumbled over her mistress, not perceiving that she slackened her pace as she reached the other side of the court. It thus happened that she trod on the young lady's foot, who uttered a slight cry, and leaned upon the servant for support.

As may be imagined, Sir Osborne was by her side in a moment, expressing his hopes that she was not hurt, and tendering his services with knightly gallantry; but the lady suddenly drew herself up, made him a low curtsey, and stiffly thanking him for his attention, walked slowly to the door by which the abbot had entered.

Not very well pleased with the reception his politeness had met, the knight proceeded on his way, and easily found the passage which the abbot had described, leading, as he had been told into the larger court, exactly opposite the door by which visitors were usually admitted. This door, as usual, stood open; and mounting the steps, Sir Osborne proceeded on into a small room beyond, separated from the parlour by a carved oak partition, in the centre of which was placed the trellis-work of gilded iron called the grate.