CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
THE REQUEST GRANTED.
"It is not love that steals the heart from love: 'Tis the hard world, and its perplexing cares; Its petrifying selfishness, its pride, its low ambition, and its paltry aims."
Caroline Bowles.
Lady Basset fulfilled her promise of writing to her brother, and senther own squire with the letter. It was uncertain where the Duke mightbe, and consequently how long the journey might take. The messenger wasinstructed to seek him first at Windsor, and to be guided in his furthermovements by what he might hear there. No time was lost, for the squireset out on his journey that very evening.
About the time of his departure, the Archbishop and Mr Altham heldtheir little conference. Regina was at work in the window-seat, by herhusband's contrivance. Theoretically, he took the popular view of thecondign inferiority of the female intellect; while practically he heldhis Regina in the highest reverence, and never thought of committinghimself on any important subject without first ascertaining her opinion.And the goldsmith's daughter deserved his esteem; for she possessed awarm heart and a large reserve of quiet good sense. They were bothhighly delighted to see that the Archbishop seemed inclined to showkindness to the young cousin whose relationship he, at least, was nottoo proud to acknowledge.
"Nor should he not be," said Regina, whose tiny bobbins were flyingabout on her lace-cushion, too fast for the eye to follow. "Did we notcome, all, from von man and von woman? I tink Adam was not too proud tospeak to Abel: and if Cain would not talk, he was bad man, and we shouldnot take de pattern after de bad mans. Ach! if dere was none but goodmans and good womans, what better of a world it should be!"
Regina had too much tact and sense of propriety to thrust herself intothe conversation between the Archbishop and her husband; she satsilently listening and working, and the sprigs of lace flowers grewrapidly under her skilful fingers.
"I would fain speak with you, Mr Altham," said the Archbishop,"touching the disposing of my cousin Amphillis. I cannot but feel thatthe maid hath been somewhat wronged by her father's kin; and though,thanks be to God, I never did her nor him any hurt, yet, being of hiskindred, I would desire you to suffer me a little to repair this wrong.She seemeth me a good maid and a worthy, and well bred in courtesy;wherefore, if my word might help her to secure a better settlement, Iwould not it were lacking. I pray you, therefore, to count me as yourfriend and hers, and tell me how you think to order her life. She hath,I take it, none other guardian than you?"
"My Lord, your Grace doth us great honour. 'Tis true, the maid hathnone other guardian than I; and her mother was mine only sister, and Iheld her dear: and seeing she had none other to give an helping hand, Iwas in the mind to portion her with mine own daughters. I gave to thetwo, and shall give to the other, five pound apiece to their marriages,and likewise their wedding gear; and seeing she is a good, decent maid,and a credit to her kin, I would do the same by Amphillis."
"Therein do you act full nobly, Master Altham," said the Archbishop; forthe sum named was a very handsome one for a girl in Mr Altham's stationof life at that time. Only a tradesman very well-to-do could haveafforded to portion his daughter so highly, with an amount equivalent inthe present day to about 80 pounds. "Go to, then: will you suffer methat I endow my young kinswoman with the like sum, and likewise find herin an horse for her riding?"
In days when public conveyances of all kinds were totally unknown, ahorse was almost a necessity, and only the very poor were without one atleast. The price of such a horse as would be considered fit forAmphillis was about thirty shillings or two pounds. The offer of theArchbishop therefore struck Mr Altham as a most generous one, and histhanks were profuse accordingly.
"Have you taken any thought for her disposal?" inquired the prelate.
"No, in very deed," replied the worthy patty-maker, with somehesitation. "There be nigh me divers youths of good conditions, that Idare be bound should be fain to wed with a maid of good lineage anddecent 'haviour, with a pretty penny in her pocket; but I never brake mymind to any, and--" here Mr Altham glanced at Regina, and received anoptic telegram across the bobbins--"if your Grace were pleased to thinkof any that you had a favour for, I would not in no wise stand in theway thereto."
"Methinks," said the Archbishop, "under your leave, worthy MasterAltham, my cousin might look somewhat higher. Truly, I mean not to castscorn on any good and honest man; we be all sons of Adam: but--in aword, to speak out straightway, I have one in my mind that I reckonshould not make an ill husband for Amphillis, and this is Sir GodfreyFoljambe his squire, Master Norman Hylton, that is of birth even withher, and I believe a full worthy young man, and well bred. If it maysuit with your reckoning, what say you to breaking your mind to himthereupon, and seeing if he be inclined to entertain the same?"
"My Lord," replied Master Altham, after exchanging another telegram withhis Mentor, "in good sooth, both Phyllis and I are much beholden untoyou, and I will full gladly so do."
"Yet, Master Altham, I would desire you to be satisfied touching thisyoung man's conditions, ere you do fix your mind upon him. I hear wellof him from all that do know him--indeed, I am myself acquaint with someof his near kin--with twain of his uncles and a brother--yet I wouldfain have you satisfied therewith no less than myself."
Optic telegrams would not answer this time, for Regina's eyes were notlifted from the lace-cushion. Mr Altham hesitated a moment, murmured afew words of thanks, and at last came out openly with--"What sayest,sweetheart?"
"He will do," was Regina's answer. "He is good man. He have cleareyes, he look you in de face; he pray in de chapel, and not run his eyesall round; he laugh and chatter-patter not wid other damsels; he is sad,courteous, and gent. He will do, husband."
Little idea had Amphillis that her future was being thus settled for herdownstairs, as she sat in the Countess's chamber, tending her sick lady.The Countess was slowly sinking. Father Jordan thought she might liveperhaps for another month; it was only a question of time. Perrote saidthat the soul was keeping the body alive. The old fiery flashes ofpassion were never seen now; she showed a little occasional irritabilityand petulance, but usually her mood was one of listless, languidweariness, from which nothing aroused her, and in which nothinginterested her. The one burning, crying desire of her heart was to seeher son. She did not know of the fruitless application which had beenalready made to him; still less of the renewed appeal, to which noanswer could be returned for some days at least. Her belief was thatSir Godfrey would not permit any message to be sent, and that if he did,King Edward would not allow the Duke, who was his vassal, to obey it.To the least hint that the Duke might or could himself decline, sherefused to listen so decidedly that no one had the heart to repeat it.More plaintive, day by day, grew the dying mother's yearning moans forher best-loved child. In vain Perrote tried to assure her that humanlove was inadequate to satisfy the cravings of her immortal soul; thatGod had made her for Himself, and that only when it reached and touchedHim could the spirit which He had given find rest.
"I cannot hearken to thee, old woman," said the dying prisoner. "Mywhole soul is set on my lad, and is bent to see him before I die. LetGod grant me that, and I will listen to Him after--I will love the goodGod then. I cannot rest, I cannot rest without my lad!"
The days wore on, and the snows of February passed into the winds ofMarch. Lady Basset remained at Hazelwood, but her squire had notreturned. The Countess was very weak now.
The Archbishop of York had delayed his departure too. He would answerfor it, he said, both to his superior of Canterbury and to the King. Inhis own heart he was not satisfied with the ministrations of kindly,ignorant Father Jordan, who was very desirous to soothe the perturbedsoul of the Countess, and had not the least idea how to do it. Hethought he might yet be of service to the dying Princess.
Very cautiously Mr Altham ventured with some trepidation to soundNorman Hylton as to his feelings towards Amphillis. Notwithstanding t
heArchbishop's countenance and solid help, he was sorely afraid of beingsnubbed and sat upon for his presumption. He was thereforeproportionately relieved when Norman assured him he wished no betterfate to overtake him, but that he was unable to see how he couldpossibly afford to marry.
"Verily, Master Altham, I do you to wit, I have but five possessions--myself, my raiment, mine harness [armour was termed harness up to theseventeenth century], mine horse, and my book. Not a yard of land haveI, nor look to have: nor one penny in my plack, further than what Iearn. How then can I look to keep a wife? Well I wot that MistressAmphillis were fortune in herself to him that is so lucky as to win her;but in good sooth, no such thing is there as luck, and I should say,that hath so much favour of. God, seeing the wise man saith that `aprudent wife is given properly of the Lord.' Yet I reckon that thewisest in the world can scarce keep him warm of a winter day by lappinghim in his wisdom; and the fairest and sweetest lady shall lack somewhatto eat beside her own sweetness. Could I see my way thereto, trust me,I would not say you nay; but--"
"But how, Master Hylton, if she carried her pocket full of nobles?"
"Ah, then it were other matter. I would stand to it gladly if so were."
"Well, for how much look you? Amphillis should bring you a portion often pound beside her wedding gear, and an horse."
"Say you so? Methinks we were made, then, could we win into some greathouse to serve the lord and lady thereof."
"I cast no doubt, if he had the opportunity, my Lord's Grace of Yorkshould help you at that pinch. He seems full ready to do his youngkinswoman all the good he may."
"May I but see my way afore me, Master Altham, nought should make megladder than to fulfil this your behest."
Mr Altham laid the case before the Archbishop.
"Tell Master Hylton he need give himself not so much thought thereon asa bee should pack in his honey-bag," was the smiling reply. "I willwarrant, so soon as it is known in the Court that I lack place for anewly-wedded cousin and her husband, there shall be so many warm nestslaid afore me, that I shall have but to pick and choose. If that be allthe bar to my cousin's wedding, I may bless it to-morrow."
It was evident that there was no other difficulty, from the glad lightin Norman Hylton's eyes when he was told the Archbishop's answer. Thematter was settled at once. Only one small item was left out,considered of no moment--the bride-elect knew nothing about thetransaction. That was a pleasure to come. That it would, should,might, or could, be anything but a pleasure, never occurred either tothe Archbishop or to Mr Altham. They would not have belonged to theircentury if it had done so.
It was the afternoon of the ninth of March. No answer had been receivedfrom the Duke, and Perrote had almost lost hope. The Countesspetulantly declined to allow any religious conversation in her chamber.She was restless and evidently miserable, Perrote thought more so thanmerely from the longing desire to see her son; but some strange andunusual reserve seemed to have come over her. Physically, she sank dayby day: it would soon be hour by hour.
Amphillis was off duty for the moment, and had seated herself with herwork at the window of her own room, which looked into the outer court,and over the walls towards Derby. She kept upstairs a good deal at thistime. There were several reasons for this. She wished to be close athand if her services were needed; she had no fancy for Agatha's rattle;and--she had not asked herself why--she instinctively kept away from thecompany of Norman Hylton. Amphillis was not one of those girls who weartheir hearts upon their sleeves; who exhibit their injuries, bodily ormental, and chatter freely over them to every comer. Her instinct wasrather that of the wounded hart, to plunge into the deepest covert, awayfrom every eye but the Omniscient.
Mr and Mrs Altham had pursued their journey without any furthercommunication to Amphillis. It was Lady Foljambe's prerogative to makethis; indeed, a very humble apology had to be made to her for taking thematter in any respect out of her hands. This was done by theArchbishop, who took the whole blame upon himself, and managed thedelicate affair with so much grace, that Lady Foljambe not only forgavethe Althams, but positively felt herself flattered by his interference.She would inform Amphillis, after the death of the Countess, how herfuture had been arranged.
The maiden herself, in ignorance of all arrangements made or imagined,was indulging in some rather despondent meditations. The state of theCountess, whom she deeply pitied; the probably near parting fromPerrote, whom she had learned to love; and another probable parting ofwhich she would not let herself think, were enough to make her heartsink. She would, of course, go back to her uncle, unless it pleasedLady Foljambe to recommend (which meant to command) her to the serviceof some other lady. And Amphillis was one of those shy, intense soulsfor whom the thought of new faces and fresh scenes has in it more fearthan hope. She knew that there was just a possibility that LadyFoljambe might put her into Ricarda's place, which she had not yetfilled up, three or four different negotiations to that end havingfailed to effect it; and either this or a return to her uncle was thesecret hope of her heart. She highly respected and liked her new AuntRegina, and her Uncle Robert was the only one of her relatives on themother's side whom she loved at all. Yet the prospect of a return toLondon was shadowed by the remembrance of Alexandra, who had ever beento Amphillis a worry and a terror.
As Amphillis sat by the window, she now and then lifted her head to lookout for a moment; and she did so now, hearing the faint ring of a hornin the distance. Her eyes lighted on a party of horsemen, who werecoming up the valley. They were too far away to discern details, butshe saw some distant flashes, as if something brilliant caught thesunlight, and also, as she imagined, the folds of a banner floating.Was it a party of visitors coming to the Manor, or, more likely, a groupof travellers on their way to Chesterfield from Derby? Or was it--oh,was it possible!--the Duke of Bretagne?
Amphillis's embroidery dropped on the rushes at her feet, as she sprangup and watched the progress of the travellers. She was pretty surepresently that the banner was white, then that some of the travellerswere armed, then that they were making for Hazelwood, and at last thatthe foremost knight of the group wore a helmet royally encircled. Shehardly dared to breathe when the banner at last showed its blazon aspure ermine; and it scarcely needed the cry of "Notre Dame de Gwengamp!"to make Amphillis rush to the opposite room, beckon Perrote out of it,and say to her in breathless ecstasy--
"The Duke! O Mistress Perrote, the Lord Duke!"
"Is it so?" said Perrote, only a little less agitated than Amphillis."Is it surely he? may it not be a messenger only?"
"I think not so. There is an ermine pennon, and the foremost knighthath a circlet on his helm."
"Pray God it so be! Phyllis, I will go down anon and see how mattersbe. Go thou into our Lady's chamber--she slept but now--and if shewake, mind thou say not a word to her hereupon. If it be in very deedmy Lord Duke, I will return with no delay."
"But if she ask?"
"Parry her inquirations as best thou mayest."
Amphillis knew in her heart that she was an exceedingly bad hand at thatbusiness; but she was accustomed to do as she was told, and accordinglyshe said no more. She was relieved to find the Countess asleep, the cryfor admission not having been loud enough to wake her. She sat down andwaited.
Perrote, meanwhile, had gone down into the hall, where Lady Foljambe satat work with Agatha. Sir Godfrey was seated before the fire, at whichhe pointed a pair of very straight and very lengthy legs; his hands werein his pockets, and his look conveyed neither contentment norbenevolence. In a recess of the window sat young Matthew, whistlingsoftly to himself as he stroked a hawk upon his gloved wrist, while hisbrother Godfrey stood at another window, looking out, with his arms uponthe sill. The only person who noticed Perrote's entrance was Agatha,and she pulled a little face by way of relief to her feelings. LadyFoljambe worked on in silence.
"Sir," said Perrote, addressing herself to the master of the house,"Phyllis tells me
a party be making hither, that she hath seen from thewindow; and under your good pleasure, I reckon, from what the maid saw,that it be my Lord's Grace of Bretagne and his meynie."
Sir Godfrey struggled to his feet with an exclamation of surprise. Hiselder son turned round from the window; the younger said, "_Ha, jolife_!Now, Gille, go on thy perch, sweet heart!" and set the falcon on itsperch. Agatha's work went down in a moment. Lady Foljambe alone seemedinsensible to the news. At the same moment, the great doors at the endof the hall were flung open, and the seneschal, with a low bow to hismaster and mistress, cried--
"Room for the Duke's Grace of Brittany!"
As the new arrivals entered the hall, Lady Basset came in from theopposite end. The Duke, a fine, rather stern-looking man, strodeforward until he reached the dais where the family sat; and then,doffing his crowned helmet, addressed himself to Sir Godfrey Foljambe.
"Sir, I give you good even. King Edward your Lord greets you by me, andbids you give good heed to that which you shall find herein."
At a motion from the Duke, quick and peremptory, one of his knightsstepped forth and delivered the royal letter.
Sir Godfrey took it into his hands with a low reverence, and bade hisseneschal fetch Father Jordan, without whose assistance it wasimpossible for him to ascertain his Sovereign's bidding.
Father Jordan hastened in, cut the silken string, and read the letter.
"Messire,--Our will and pleasure is, that you shall entertain in yourManor of Hazelwood, for such time as shall be his pleasure, our verydear and well-beloved son, John, Duke of Brittany and Count de Montfort,neither letting nor deferring the said Duke from intercourse with ourprisoner his mother, Margaret, Duchess of Brittany, but shall suffer himto speak with her at his will. And for so doing this shall be yourwarrant. By the King. At our Castle of Winchester, the morrow of SaintRomanus."
Lady Foljambe turned to the Duke and inquired when it would be hispleasure to speak with the prisoner.
"When her physician counts it meet," said he, with a slight movement ofhis shapely shoulders, which did not augur much gratification at theprospect before him. "By my faith, had not King Edward my fatherinsisted thereon, then had I never come on so idle a journey. When Ilooked every morrow for news from Bretagne, bidding me most likelythither, to trot over half England for an old dame's diversion wereenough to try the patience of any knight on earth! I shall not tarrylong here, I do ensure you, his Highness' bidding fulfilled; and I trustyour physician shall not long tarry me."
Sir Godfrey and Lady Foljambe were full of expressions of sympathy.Lady Basset came forward, and spoke in a slightly cynical tone.
"Good morrow, my Lord," said she to her brother. "You came not to seeme, I think, more in especial as I shall one of these days be an oldwoman, when your Grace's regard for me shall perish. Father Jordan, Ipray you, let it not be long ere you give leave for this loving son tohave speech of his mother. 'Twere pity he should break his heart bytarrying."
Father Jordan nervously intimated that if the Countess were not asleep,he saw no reason why his Grace's visit should be delayed at all.
"Nay, but under your leave, my good host, I will eat first," said theDuke; "were it but to strengthen me for the ordeal which waiteth me."
Lady Foljambe disappeared at once, on hospitable thoughts intent, andSir Godfrey was profuse in apologies that the suggestion should haveneeded to come from the Duke. But the only person in the hall who,except his sister, was not afraid of the Duke, stepped forth and spokeher mind.