This the Duke himself confirmed, stating that there were matters on which he would be glad to have their opinion.
He invited the newcomers to draw chairs to the table; glasses were called for, and a couple of fresh bottles of Canary went round the board. The talk was desultory for a few moments, whilst Wilding and Trenchard washed the dust from their throats; then Monmouth broke the ice by asking them bluntly what they thought of his coming thus, earlier than was at first agreed.
Wilding never hesitated in his reply. “Frankly, Your Grace,” said he, “I like it not at all.”
Fletcher looked up sharply, his clear intelligent eyes full upon Wilding's calm face, his countenance expressing as little as did Wilding's. Ferguson seemed slightly taken aback. Grey's thick lips were twisted in a sneering smile.
“Faith,” said the latter with elaborate sarcasm, “in that case it only remains for us to ship again, heave anchor, and back to Holland.”
“It is what I should advise,” said Wilding slowly and quietly, “if I thought there was a chance of my advice being taken.” He had a calm, almost apathetic way of uttering startling things which rendered them doubly startling. The sneer seemed to freeze on Lord Grey's lips; Fletcher continued to stare, but his eyes had grown more round; Ferguson scowled darkly. The Duke's boyish face—it was still very youthful despite his six-and-thirty years—expressed a wondering consternation. He looked at Wilding, and from Wilding to the others, and his glance seemed to entreat them to suggest an answer to him. It was Grey at last who took the matter up.
“You shall explain your meaning, sir, or we must hold you a traitor,” he exclaimed.
“King James does that already,” answered Wilding with a quiet smile.
“D'ye mean the Duke of York?” rumbled Ferguson's Scottish accent with startling suddenness, and Monmouth nodded approval of the correction. “If ye mean that bloody papist and fratricide, it were well so to speak of him. Had ye read the Declaration...”
But Fletcher cropped his speech in mid-growth. He was ever a short-tempered man, intolerant of irrelevancies.