‘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.’