Georgette Heyer (32 page)

  She said earnestly: 'When it was related to me, by my husband, what dangers his Majesty has lately passed through, the thought – nay, the most devout belief ! – that the arm of God stretched out from Heaven to his rescue – possessed my poor mind. It is surely a story in which the constellations of Providence are so refulgent, that their light is sufficient to confute all the atheists in the world!'

  'Ah – indeed and indeed, madam!' said Wilmot vaguely.

  He was rescued by his host, who stepped forward to lead him up to old Lady Wyndham, who had risen from her chair by the window, and was standing leaning a little on a long ebony cane, and regarding him out of a pair of cool, shrewd eyes.

  'Lord Wilmot, madam,' said her son.

  She extended her hand. 'So I perceive,' she replied. 'You are heartily welcome, my lord. I remember you very well.'

  He kissed her fingers, replying with the ready address of a courtier: 'And I you, madam.'

  She looked amused. 'You are extremely gallant, Lord Wilmot. I shall not distress you by requiring you to recall where or when we had the happiness to meet.'

  'Was it not at Oxford, madam?' he asked, throwing all upon one cast of the dice.

  She chuckled. 'Very good! You are acquainted, I believe, with my niece?'

  He cast an appreciative glance at Juliana, demure beside Lady Wyndham's chair. 'I had the honour of meeting Mrs Juliana Coningsby last night.'

  'She is a foolish girl, but honest,' Lady Wyndham said. 'You may trust her.'

  Juliana fixed her glowing eyes upon his lordship's face, and said, with her hands clasped at her breast: 'Oh yes, yes! Believe it, my lord! If I might serve his Majesty, I think my heart would burst with happiness!'

  'H'm! yes,' said her aunt dryly. 'We must guard against such untoward contingencies. Sit down beside me, my lord. We are agreed that it will be more prudent for you to remain within doors than to go with my son to meet his Majesty. You and I must renew our old acquaintance.'

  He professed himself to be very willing to do so, and after a short discussion with the Colonel, took a chair beside Lady Wyndham, while Juliana was despatched upon an errand to the stillroom, and the Colonel and his lady went away to stroll in the fields at the back of the house.

  It was some time before they saw anyone approaching, but a little before ten o'clock two horses appeared in the distance, one bearing a double load, the other ridden by a tall shabby figure, with a portmanteau strapped to the saddle behind him.

  Anne Wyndham's clasp on the Colonel's arm tight ened. 'Is it?' she whispered. 'Is it indeed his blessed Majesty?'

  The Colonel was watching the horsemen's approach between puckered eyelids. 'Before God, I cannot tell!' he said. 'It must surely be he, and yet –'

  He broke off. The travellers were now within hail, and as his anxious gaze went from one to the other of the men, the single rider called out to him in a voice he knew well: 'Frank, Frank, how dost thou?'

  The Colonel let go his wife's arm, and started forward. The King swung himself out of the saddle as the Colonel reached him, and grasped him by the shoulders, saying merrily: 'My old Frank! I swear you have not altered one jot since last I clapped eyes on you! You dare not say the same of me!'

  The Colonel could not immediately trust his voice. He looked up into the King's dark, laughing face, thinner than he remembered it, with deep lines carved in it, and bitter experience dwelling behind the smile in his eyes; and with an inarticulate exclamation, pulled one of Charles's hands from his shoulder, and caught it to his lips.

  Charles felt a tear upon his hand, and said in a rallying tone: 'Why, what's this? Do you weep at the sight of your King, traitor? Nay, but I thought you loved me well!'

  'So well, sire, that to see you thus, so changed, so grievously entreated – nay, this is womanish folly, after all! I thank God you are here, for in my house I swear you may lie safely! Come you in, sir, I beg of you!'

  'Why, so I will, but you shall first let me present you to my good friends here.'

  He turned, to find that Lassels had lifted Jane down from her pillion. She came to him obediently when he stretched out his hand to her, but although she curtseyed slightly to the Colonel, she said: 'Let such matters wait until you are hid from prying eyes, sir, I do entreat you!'

  'When my Life entreats, I ask nothing better than to please her,' he replied, with one of his irresistible smiles. 'Yet I do desire that I may be made known to one whom I guess to be my old friend's lady.'

  'Ay, sir, my wife indeed, who bids you welcome with as full a heart as I do.'

  'Sire!' Anne Wyndham said, raising her serious eyes to his face. 'I would I might tell your Majesty how much I am your servant. Let me add my entreaties to Mrs Jane Lane's (though they cannot have that power with your Majesty which hers so greatly deserve), and beg that you will lose no time in seeking the shelter of my husband's roof.'

  'Lead me there, Frank, lead me there!' said the King gaily.

  Anne turned towards Jane Lane, and took her hand. 'May I bid you welcome too, mistress? Oh, surely you must be the best and most blessed of women!'

  'The most blessed, madam,' Jane said. 'An unworthy instru ment, honoured far beyond my deserts, beyond my dreams.'

  Anne heard the forlorn note in her voice, and saw how her gaze followed the King, as he walked away from her, deep in converse with Wyndham. She pressed her hand, saying in a low tone: 'His Preserver! You must be proud indeed!'

  'His Life, madam!' said Lassels. 'You heard him call her so, and I can tell you he does so with good reason.'

  The colour crept into Jane's cheeks; she shook her head. 'It is his pleasure to call me that, but it is not true. I am one of his humble servants, no heroine, believe me, madam.'

The King, being arrived at the house, was led immediately upstairs by Colonel Wyndham to the rooms prepared for him. Here Lord Wilmot awaited him, greeted him with fondness and relief, and saying, with the King's hand held between both his own: 'At last, at last, my dear master, we see the sky through the clouds! You are come amongst friends and the end of your troubles is in sight. Wyndham you may trust, as you would trust me.'

  'But I told you so, Harry!' said the King. He cast off his hat, and pushed his fingers up through the coarse, short ringlets that clung damply to his head. 'Did I not say I knew his mind as I know mine own?' He took the glass of wine which Wyndham had poured out for him, and rewarded him with his sleepy smile. 'Get me away from this ungrateful kingdom of mine, Frank.'

  Wyndham's eyes were fixed on his face, searching its haggard lines for traces of the heavy, yet shrewd, boy he had known. He said: 'It shall be done, sire. All my desire is to serve you. It is my duty, my pleasure, and was further laid upon me by my father as a strict charge I dare not (if I would) neglect.'

  'How is this?' enquired the King. 'I had thought your father died before I was breeched.'

  'Ay, sir, he died fifteen years ago, in '36, but ere he departed this life he called unto him his five sons, and discoursed to us of some things which puzzled us sorely. Of the loving peace and prosperity this kingdom had enjoyed under its three last glorious monarchs, he spoke; and of the miseries and calamities which lay upon our ancestors, by invasions and rebellions. After some further speech, he disclosed to us his fear that the garment of peace would shortly be torn in pieces through various causes, but most particularly the prevalence of the Puritanical faction, which (if not prevented) would undermine the very pillars of Government. He said to us, very earnestly: "My sons! We have seen serene and quiet times: but now prepare yourselves for cloudy and troublesome. I command you to honour and obey our Gracious Sovereign, and in all times to adhere to the Crown. And though the Crown should hang upon a bush, I charge you forsake it not!" Thereupon he arose from his chair, and left us in deep consultation what the meaning should be of
the Crown
hanging upon a bush
. His words made so firm an impres sion in all our breasts that nothing, I promise you, sir, can raze out their characters.'

  'A true prophet!' said the King. 'But if I can but escape from mine enemies at this present, I have a strong notion the Crown shall not long hang upon a bush. What good chance have I of finding a vessel at Lyme, or at Plymouth, to carry me to France, Frank?'

  'I hope, the best, sir, and have been considering how we should set about the matter. Your Majesty must know that I am not long released from Weymouth prison, upon my parole; and, being but newly come here from Sherborne, the jealous eyes of our Somerset shire potentates have scarce found me out.'

  'Ay, but being upon your parole, can you move about unmolested?'

  'Most freely, sir,' responded the Colonel, with a smile. 'For my pass will save me from being stopped. You may say it is a protection rather than a hindrance. But I believe there is one who may more easily serve you than I in this matter of procuring a vessel to carry you to France. Does your Majesty recall Sir John Strangways, who gave his two sons to your Royal father's service, both being Colonels, and, I think, known to you?'

  'Ay, he was always very loyal to the throne.'

  'Strangways? Strangways?' said Wilmot. 'Oh – ah! Yes, I fancy I recall the man.'

  'A gentleman of great fortune and interest,' said Wyndham. 'He lives at Melbury, some ten miles from here. I think, if I were to call upon him, he might render your Majesty powerful assistance.'

  'Why, then, do so, by all means!' said the King. He drank up his wine, and began to take stock of his surroundings, remarking that he liked his lodging very well. Upon Wilmot's excusing himself presently, and leaving him alone with his host, he stretched himself out in a chair by the window, and rolled an enquiring eye towards Wyndham. 'Something mislikes you, Frank. What's in your mind?'

  The Colonel shook his head. 'A medley of thoughts, sir. Mostly I grieve to see you in such straits as these.'

  'It is well that you saw me not a week ago, then,' said the King. 'I was a sorry sight, I pledge you my word. But that is long past. Indeed, I think I was wet, and footsore, and hungry, and exceeding dismayed in another life, not in this.'

  'Do not speak of it, sir!' the Colonel said, with a shudder.

  'If it irks not me it need not irk you,' remarked the King. 'I assure you, it does not. I have learnt much since Worcester fight. For I never knew, look you, until the Scots deserted me in that battle, and I was forced to seek refuge amongst the country-people, how many poor men there were who, owing me nothing, would willing sacrifice their lives for my sake. I remember that when I lay at Boscobel my mind misgave me that I had done ill to entrust my person into the hands of such poor men. Well! No man shall say of me that I do not profit by my lessons. I hope I am not to be so easily affrighted now.'

  'Yet there is such danger threatening you!' the Colonel said. 'On all sides – even here, under my roof!' He drove one clenched, impotent fist into the palm of his other hand, and began to pace about the room, saying with a good deal of agitation: 'Myself a prisoner at large! All who served the Crown spied upon, trammelled! While every dog of an upstart, Puritan knave – Ah, God give me patience, and the means to aid your Majesty!'

  'Oh, amen to that, my friend!' said the King. He watched the Colonel's quick, fretting movements with a somewhat sardonic smile, but presently he stretched out his hand. 'Nay, be still, Frank, be still! You make my head to spin with all this marching up and down!'

  The Colonel came to a halt beside his chair, and said with a fleeting smile: 'I should be still, and calm, and careless while you are in danger, should I not?'

  The King took hold of the fringed end of the Colo nel's scarf, and began to flick it idly backwards and forwards over his fingers. 'You have been talking to my Lord Wilmot, Frank. You are thinking every bush a boggard, as my honest friend William Penderel would say.'

  'I cannot find it in me to blame my lord for being fearful,' replied Wyndham. 'Yet –' he hesitated, looking down at the King, and then said impetuously: 'Sire, why, out of all men, chose you my Lord Wilmot to go with you upon such a journey as this?'

  'Nay, I am sure you wrong my lord,' murmured Charles. 'He loves me well.'

  'Is that wonderful, sir?'

  The King raised rueful eyes from the sash's fringe. 'Frank, Frank, you behold me disguised and forced to escape by stealth from this my realm, and yet you can ask me that? I have grown more used to dwell amongst those who wish me ill than with friends who love me.'

  'Sire!' Wyndham exclaimed. 'That I cannot believe!'

  For a moment he saw in the King's eyes a look that shocked his own warm heart. Charles was still smiling, but coldly, as though in cynical enjoyment of a jest he did not choose to share. The expression was swiftly gone, but it left Wyndham disturbed and sorrowful.