The Countess bowed with some state, and answered, “My business, sire, is indeed important; but so brief, that it need not for more than a few minutes withdraw your ear from what is more pleasing;—yet it is so urgent, that I am afraid to postpone it even for a moment.”
“This is unusual,” said Charles. “But you, Countess of Derby, are an unwonted guest, and must command my time. Does the matter require my private ear?”
“For my part,” said the Countess, “the whole Court might listen; but you Majesty may prefer hearing me in the presence of one or two of your counsellors.”
“Ormond,” said the King, looking around, “attend us for an instant—and do you, Arlington, do the same.”
The King led the way into an adjoining cabinet, and, seating himself, requested the Countess would also take a chair. “It needs not, sire,” she replied; then pausing for a moment, as if to collect her spirits, she proceeded with firmness.
“Your Majesty well said that no light cause had drawn me from my lonely habitation. I came not hither when the property of my son—that property which descended to him from a father who died for your Majesty’s rights—was conjured away from him under pretext of justice, that it might first feed the avarice of the rebel Fairfax, and then supply the prodigality of his son-in-law, Buckingham.”
“These are over harsh terms, lady,” said the King. “A legal penalty was, as we remember, incurred by an act of irregular violence—so our courts and our laws term it, though personally I have no objection to call it, with you, an honourable revenge. But admit it were such, in prosecution of the laws of honour, bitter legal consequences are often necessarily incurred.”
“I come not to argue for my son’s wasted and forfeited inheritance, sire,” said the Countess; “I only take credit for my patience, under that afflicting dispensation. I now come to redeem the honour of the House of Derby, more dear to me than all the treasures and lands which ever belonged to it.”
“And by whom is the honour of the House of Derby impeached?” said the King; “for on my word you bring me the first news of it.”
“Has there one Narrative, as these wild fictions are termed, been printed with regard to the Popish Plot—this pretended Plot as I will call it—in which the honour of our house has not been touched and tainted? And are there not two noble gentlemen, father and son, allies of the House of Stanley, about to be placed in jeopardy of their lives, on account of matters in which we are the parties first impeached?”