The Loves of the Lady Arabella

by Molly Elliot Seawell

“And Daphne and I will stay and comfort Giles,” spoke Lady Hawkshaw.

A week to London, and a week to return, was easy traveling—but how long would it take us to reach the king? And what ministers would be in town? And what would be the earliest moment we could leave London? All these things were in our minds to torment us. Nevertheless, within half an hour, we were on our way.

While we were demanding the best horses, and having them put to, an insolent groom came in the stable-yard, and asked for horses for Sir Thomas Vernon and Lady Arabella Stormont and Lady Arabella’s companion, Mrs. Whitall, and two servants, for London. The head hostler replied roughly that they had no time to attend him then, as they were starting Sir Peter Hawkshaw and Mr. Glyn off for London, too, to beg Mr. Giles Vernon’s life. The man, at this, grew saucy, and offered a handsome bonus for the horses which were then being put to for us. I caught him by the collar, and threw him out of the stable-yard, where the hostlers drubbed him soundly, thank God!

One hurried kiss to Daphne, a brief farewell between Sir Peter and Lady Hawkshaw, and we were off for London. Our race into Scotland was nothing to it.

The roads were much cut up, and although we traveled day and night, we were more than four days on the way. We reached London early in the day; and, without stopping for food, or to change our linen, we went to the Admiralty. There we got the information that the First Lord was visiting in the country, in Kent. Within the hour, I was on my way to Kent. When I reached the place, the First Lord had left, not more than two hours before, for London. I had passed him on the road, without knowing him. I returned to London. Sir Peter had seen several members of the government, meanwhile, and had been privately informed that the king was suffering mentally; and although hopes were entertained that the spell would pass away, without the necessity of informing the country or Parliament, still, access to him was refused to all by his physicians, except the members of his family and immediate household, and they were charged not to mention business to him; it would be impossible to approach him.

When Sir Peter told me this, I became so weak I was forced to sit down. After a few minutes of agony, a desperate resolve came to me. I rose, and said,—

“I have a scheme—desperate, but not impossible. Go with me to the Prince of Wales. He is at Carlton House, but goes back and forth to Windsor.”

Sir Peter jumped at this poor chance, and we agreed to go immediately.

We had left York on a Friday, and had reached London on the Monday. Two days had been lost in the journey to Kent; and it was now late in the evening of Wednesday. We had, luckily, brought our uniforms along; and, dressing ourselves in them,—Sir Peter with all his orders sewn on his coat,—we called a hackney-coach, and drove to Carlton House.

When we got there, it was about ten o’clock in the evening. The windows were brilliantly lighted up, and it was about the hour that the Prince of Wales was known to be in his best humor—but the hour when he most hated to be disturbed.