CHAPTER XVII
RETURN OF MR. WAVERTON
It seems that, years afterwards, Harry and Alison were afflicted with adreary and remorseful wonder at these wars. Both, as they grew older, hadsomething of a turn for moralising, and in their copious letters to theirseveral children is evidence of much penitence and puzzling over thedisasters of their youth. Each plainly took all the blame. Each iseloquent about the sins of pride and hardness. Harry preaches the duty oftrust; Alison the folly of easy intimacies. Both of them, in those latterdays when they could calmly estimate what they had lost, still wonderedwith a gloomy scorn how they had come to let the ugly, ridiculous affairof Sir George set them against each other. You find them both trying torecall (or guess) what exactly it was that, in the time of crisis, theyfelt and believed.
When it was all part of their history, Harry could hardly persuadehimself that ever he had fancied Alison untrue, even disloyal; or Alisonbelieve that she had stormed against him for driving out of the house aman who had been impudent to her. Yet it is not to be doubted that Harrydid let suspicions of her honesty poison him. He could not, at the worstof his anger, believe that she would play false with such a husk of afop; but he told himself that she wanted to make the fellow into awaiting gentleman, a servant, and a toy at once--a thing more nauseousthan a lover. And Alison, though at the back of her brain she was awarethat Harry had excuse for what he had done, raged the more against himfor the intolerable things he had said. His suspicions made her despisehim. For his assumption of authority she hated him.
There were almost from the first the usual sage and kindly friends totell them that it was all a misunderstanding, that they had only to befrank with each other and commonly reasonable and there would be noquarrel left. But it is doubtful whether this sagacious advice couldhave done them much good if they had taken it. "Talk things over likerational creatures," was (as usual) the prescription. But if they hadreally been rational, they would only have come to the conclusion thatthey ought not to be married. The force of their passion, to be sure,was real enough and still moved in them. To hold them together they hadnothing else. There was no consciousness of other need, no longing for acommon life, no desire to help or give. If they had been most calmlywise and wisely calm in a dozen conversations, they would but have madethis all the clearer.
Still it is true, as the sagacious friends guessed, that they did nottry to compose the quarrel. Each was by far too proud. Harry waspleased to consider that he had done his duty by a flighty wife, andwould take no more account of her unless she were penitent--or provokedhim again. Alison, reckoning herself meanly insulted, was resolved thathe could never again be more than an unwelcome guest in her house. Theywere, to be sure, ridiculous. In private they avoided each other. Inpublic they continued to meet, for each was too proud to confess to theworld the failure of their marriage. You imagine how poor Mrs. Westonenjoyed life in an icy atmosphere, the temperature of which she was notpermitted to notice.
Such were their relations when the final blow fell upon them. They dinedlate in the Lincoln Inn Fields. It was as much as six o'clock and theywere still at table--as jovial as usual. The butler came to Alison withan elaborate whispering. "Pray him come up," she said aloud, and lookeddefiance down the table at Harry. "It is Mr. Waverton."
"Lord, Lord, is he still alive?" Harry grinned. "That's heroic."
"Back from France? Is Colonel Boyce come back?" Mrs. Weston cried.
"I know nothing of Colonel Boyce," said Alison coldly.
"You couldn't please him better," Harry laughed. "Dear Geoffrey! I wonderif he knows anything? Well I It would be a new experience."
Mr. Waverton came. He was more stately than ever--browner also, but notchanged otherwise. His large and handsome face affected all the oldmelancholy.
"Oh, Mr. Waverton!" Harry grinned. "You do honour me. Pray let me presentyou to my poor wife."
Geoffrey took no notice of him. "Madame, your obedient," he bowed toAlison. "I beg leave to have some speech with you."
"There's still some dinner. Draw up a chair," said Harry.
"I did not come to dine, sir."
"Oh, that's a sad stomach of yours. A glass of wine, then?"
"I do not take wine with you, Mr. Boyce."
"I wonder if you have made a mistake. For you have come into my house."
"I will answer for all my mistakes, sir, with hearty goodwill."
"Egad, you'll be busy."
"Oh, be silent!" Alison cried. "You are welcome, Mr. Waverton. How can Iserve you?"
"I understand the gentleman's desire to hurry me into a quarrel, ma'am.Be sure that I shall not permit it." Harry laughed disagreeably. "It'svery well, sir. But I choose first that you should listen to what Ihave to say."
"Listen I Oh Lud, is it a poem?"
Mr. Waverton flushed. "You are impertinent, sir. It shall not serveyou. I intend that madame shall know the truth of your father'streachery and yours."
Harry stood up. "Are we to stay for more of this, ma'am?"
"I shall stay," Alison said.
"You remark the gentleman's impatience to silence me, ma'am. I promiseyou that I shall tell you nothing which he or any man can deny."
"It's a dull tale, then," Harry muttered.
"I think it will excite you enough, ma'am. You are advised that I went toFrance with Colonel Boyce. The office which he offered me was tonegotiate with Prince James. This I undertook readily, for to his partymy family hath ever had an inclination, nay, an affection, and I saw inthe affair duties of honour and moment."
"To the greater glory of Geoffrey, first Duke of Waverton, whom Godpreserve," quoth Harry.
"I did not, I will avow, foresee that the thing was but a trick to takeme away from my house and out of the country. Though I may regret,ma'am"--he bowed magnificently to Alison--"I do not even now blame myselffor my blindness, for I have ever accounted it unworthy of a man ofhonour to fear treachery in his servants"--he glared at Harry--"orweakness--ah--weakness in those to whom he gives his devotion"--he mademelancholy eyes at Alison. "No more of that. In fine, I did not suspectthat a fellow who was taking wages from my hand had plotted to rob me ofwhat was my dearest hope, or that another--another--would surrenderherself a prey to his crafty greed."
"Damme, it is a poem after all," Harry groaned.
"You said you had something to tell me, sir," said Alison coldly.
"Nay, ma'am, be patient. I give you no reproaches. But what is, is. If itirks you that I remind you of it, do not give the blame to me."
"I shall blame you for being tedious, by your leave." Alison yawned.
"Wait till all's told. Well, ma'am, I left Tetherdown with ColonelBoyce, and we rode posthaste to Newhaven. He was there joined by somehalf-dozen fellows, low fellows to my eye. This much surprised me, and Itook occasion to tell him so, for he had given out that his was a verysecret errand of Marlborough's privy policy, into which he would admitnone but me. He made out that these fellows were but messengers andescort, and I permitted myself to be satisfied, though I remarked thathe was on familiar terms with them. But that gave me little concern, forI had from the first remarked in Colonel Boyce a coarse habit ofintimacy with the vulgar."
"Aye, aye, you and he took to each other famously," says Harry.
"Lud, sir, must you be so wordy?" Alison cried.
"You will find that every word has its import, ma'am. From some of thesefellows Colonel Boyce learnt that there was a warrant out against him fortreasonable practices with the Pretender. This affected him to greatindignation, in which, as I frankly told him, I found matter forbewilderment. Since he was, as he professed, about to deal with thePretender, it was but fair that the Government should arraign him on thatcharge. Over which he was pleased to laugh at me, and then, to explainhis mirth, averred that the Government, and in particular Mr. SecretarySt. John, was much more Jacobite than he, and so had no title to meddlewith him. Then he said that what irked him was that they should haveheard of his dealings with Franc
e, which must be done secretly or fail.So we went in a hurry aboard the schooner which was ready for him, andcrossed to Dieppe, landing by night beyond the town. I make no doubt fromhis adroitness that Colonel Boyce hath done business in France before,but of what kind I leave you to guess when you have heard all. We werewell furnished with horses and upon the road to Paris before noon. Hegave out to some officers which questioned him that we were of PrinceJames's service upon our way to St. Germain. We rode to Pontoise, andthere, as it had been planned from the first, Colonel Boyce stayed whileI rode on to the Prince. He dared not, as he said, go himself to Paris,for fear that some of the French officers should recognize him asMarlborough's man and denounce him for a spy. Therefore was I to go withletters to the Prince, and messages which should persuade him to ride outto Pontoise and come to business with Colonel Boyce. I went on thenalone, save that Colonel Boyce gave me one of his fellows to be my guideand servant, and he stayed with the rest at Pontoise. Thus far, I beg youremark, I had no cause to apprehend treachery. Upon the face, the schemewas fair enough, and all had been done even as Colonel Boyce proposed tome in England. I will maintain myself honourably free of any blame in theaffair against any man whomsoever."
"God bless you," said Harry heartily.
Mr. Waverton visibly laboured with a repartee.
"Oh, sir, a prayer from you is a rare honour," he said at length."You're to understand, ma'am, that I was furnished with letters ofcredence from certain of the Jacobite agents in England--John Rogers andMrs. White, I remember. How they were come by, I cannot now tell, thoughI may guess, for it is plain that there was no stint of money in theaffair. So I came easily to speech with the Prince and his secretary, myLord Middleton. And I will ever maintain that His Royal Highness isaltogether such as a prince should be. Being of a dark complexion and amelancholy dignity, there is in him no lightness of thought or word. Tome he was, I profess, very flattering, showing me courtesies beyond myrights or expectations. He received me, in a word, most favourably, andbeing influenced, as I regret I cannot doubt, by my person and address,was easily inclined to ride out to Pontoise. Only my Lord Middleton madedifficulties. He is of a sardonic turn, and permits his wit to outrun hiscivility. He set me questions in a fashion which my honour could notbrook. Yet I can relate that in the end I prevailed over my LordMiddleton's jealousy. For he said to the Prince: '_Enfin_, sir, I cantell no reason why you should not go see this Colonel if you choose. Ifthere were any guile in the business, faith, they would never havetrusted it to this fellow!'
"So the thing was agreed. In the morning we rode for Pontoise, thePrince, my Lord Middleton, myself. His Royal Highness was pleased tolimit himself to one servant. The man with whom Colonel Boyce hadprovided me went on to carry advice of our coming. We came to Pontoisetowards evening. Colonel Boyce had put up at the Lion d'Or. He waswaiting for us in the courtyard and received us, as I thought, somethingshortly, hurrying us into the house. But once inside, he made ceremonyenough, with endless speeches about the condescension of His RoyalHighness. All this too obsequious, in a boorish taste, so that the Princebade him have done and come to business. Therewith Colonel Boyce was asfull of apologies as he had been of servilities. I vow I never heard himso copious as that night.
"He took us, you are to understand, to an upper room. And what firstmoved my suspicion was that he bade me be gone. Then my Lord Middletoncountered him with, 'I believe, sir, the gentleman had best stay.'Immediately Colonel Boyce was all smiles over his blunder, and we satdown about the table in that upper room and came to the substance of hisnegotiation. He kept, I'll allow, to the purposes which, from the first,he had pretended to me: whether Prince James, if assured of support fromMarlborough and his friends, would choose to avow himself Protestant; buthe made so many conditions over it, he was so vague and wary that 'twashard to tell what he would be at. When my Lord Middleton tried to pin himto something plain and certain he would ever evade, till it began to growlate and the Prince talked of supper and bed. This Colonel Boyce took upvery heartily, and was indeed giving his orders when there came a noisein the courtyard and he ran to the window and looked out.
"My Lord Middleton was behind him, with a 'What's your anxiety, sir?'
"'Why, my lord, I would not have these roysterers break upon the Prince'sincognito. Pray, sir, this way and you'll be secure'; he points to aninner door.
"'I believe we are as safe here, sir,' says my Lord Middleton.
"'Egad, sir, come away,' says Colonel Boyce; and he was in fact draggingthe Prince across the room when the door bursts open and in comes astranger, a little man. He flung himself across the room upon ColonelBoyce, making some play with a pistol. There was some grappling andwrestling. I recall that they gasped and breathed hard. But it's odd, Ibelieve, that there was no word spoken. Then Colonel Boyce freed himselfand bolted through that inner door. The stranger fired a shot after him,and while we were all deaf and sneezing with it and utterly amazed heturns on us. 'That's a miss,' says he. 'Please God they'll bag him below.Eh, Charles,' he wags his head at my Lord Middleton, 'I thought you hadmore sense,'
"'Damme,' says my lord, 'it's Hector McBean. And prithee what's all thisruffling, Mac?'
"'Why, you have let His Majesty walk into a stinking trap. That fellowBoyce, he hath been Marlborough's spy, Sunderland's spy, the devil's spythis twenty year.'
"'Why, I thought he had something the smack of it,' says my lord.'And yet--'
"'Who's this now?' Captain McBean turned on me. 'Yours or his?'
"'His ambassador in fact,' My lord looked me over and took snuff. 'Youwon't tell me that hath any guile in it. Prithee, what is it you haveagainst the man Boyce?'
"'Eh, did ye see him run?' says Captain McBean. 'A man's not in thathurry if he hath a good conscience. If ye'll please to have him up, maybewe'll hear a tale.'
"But as he spoke there came into the room a French officer of dragoons,who, saluting the Prince, asked Captain McBean if he had found his rogue.On which 'Have I found him?' Captain McBean cries out, 'Eh, sir, did henot run into your arms?' But it appeared that Colonel Boyce had not beencaught, and they determined at last that he must have made his way out bya door at the back of the inn and won clear away. But I am sorry to tellyou, ma'am, that he hath not yet been found. For if they catch him inFrance, he may count on a hanging."
"Pray, sir, how did you dodge the rope?" Harry said. "Did you talk themto death, your Pretender and his tail?"
"You're too eloquent for me, Mr. Waverton," Alison yawned. "I can't tellwhat you want to say. What is this mighty crime which you and ColonelBoyce were compassing?"
"Sneers become you ill, ma'am," says Mr. Waverton magnificently. "Irepudiate any charge whatsoever; and tell my story my own way. Some hotwords passed between Captain McBean and the Frenchman, each blaming theother for Colonel Boyce's escape. Then Captain McBean says 'The fellowsthat were drinking in the tap, I suppose you've let them dodge you too?No? Well, that's a wonder. Tie this rogue up with them and have them inguard.' So he mocked at me, but the Prince brought him up roundly.
"'You go too fast for me, my good captain,' quoth he. 'What's your chargeagainst the gentleman?--who is to my mind a very simple gentleman.' SoHis Royal Highness was pleased to honour me."
"Egad, he was right, Waverton," Harry laughed.
"I think I know how to value your fair words now, sir," says Mr. Wavertongrandly. "Be pleased to spare them. Upon that, as I was saying, CaptainMcBean lost command of himself and was grossly violent. Roaring that Iwas none the less a knave because I was so natural a fool, and the likeempty insolence. Accusing me of being art and part in a vile plot withColonel Boyce to kidnap and murder His Royal Highness."
"Now we have it," Alison murmured and looked at Harry strangely.
"Aye, ma'am. Now, perhaps (though late enough) your eyes are opened,"said Mr. Waverton with relish. "Well, I let the man run on. He was indeednot to be stopped. A rude, vehement fellow. When he was exhausted, Iaddressed His Royal Highness."
"Lack a d
ay, I believe you," says Harry.
"I made it clear to him, sir, that my birth and position must warrant meinnocent of any treachery, and though I might well disdain to answerthese reckless charges I owed it to myself to remark to His RoyalHighness that, but for my desire to serve him, I had never meddled in theaffair. So that when I had done, my Lord Middleton says, laughing, 'Egad,sir, it seems you owe this fine gentleman thanks for his kindlycondescension to you'; and the Prince was pleased to answer, 'We are toosmall for his notice, faith. But is he finished yet?' Then I bowed to HisRoyal Highness and sat down, well enough pleased, as you may believe.
"But this Captain McBean called out in his rude fashion, 'Eh, sir, he maye'en be the booby he pretends. The better decoy, I allow. But by yourleave, we'll look into it more narrowly. Would Your Majesty please topermit me have up the other rogues?'
"This, in a word, they did, and Captain McBean and my Lord Middleton (whois to my mind something more of the attorney than becomes a man of rank)questioning the fellows shrewdly, it was made put--I crave yourattention, madam--it was made out that Colonel Boyce had undertaken forthe service of the Hanoverian junto here to kidnap or kill Prince James.And the plan was to bring the Prince out to Pontoise and so drag outaffairs that he passed the night there. Then in the night they were toinvade his room and command him to follow them. They pretended indeedthat they meant only to carry him off. But 'tis not to be doubted thatthey looked for resistance and a bloody issue to the affair. So, ma'am,here is the trade of the family of Boyce--to procure murder, and themurder of a prince of the blood royal, of our lawful king. I give you joyof the name you bear."
Alison bent her head. "You may well be proud of your part, Mr.Waverton."
"They let you go, did they?" says Harry; "your captain and your lord andyour prince?"
"Let me go, sir? There is nothing against me. I defy your impudence. Nay,I thank you, I thank you. You lead me gracefully to the end of my story."
"Good God! It has an end!"
"When these rogues were questioned about me, not a man of them couldpretend to have anything against me. They openly confessed that ColonelBoyce had warned them that I must be kept in innocence of the affair lestI should thwart it. For he said that he had brought me into it to show agood face to the Prince as one beyond suspicion of treachery. Nay andmoreover--and here's my last word to you, ma'am--he avowed that he choseme because he wanted me out of England where I stood between his own sonand a pretty heiress. At which, as I remember, my Lord Middleton chose tobe amused."
"Damme, I like that man," says Harry.
"So, ma'am," Mr. Waverton tossed his head. "Here you have it. I am drawninto a murderous, vile, base treason that I may be kept out of the waywhile Mr. Boyce prosecutes his designs upon you. I give you joy of theloyal fidelity which yielded to him. I leave you to enjoy him with whatappetite you may."
He made a majestic bow, he turned and was gone.
Harry and Alison were left staring at each other.
From behind came a small strained voice: "Colonel Boyce--he--he is safe,then?" It was Mrs. Weston.
The two turned with a start, surprised by her existence.
Harry laughed. "Oh aye, he is safe. He would be."
Mrs. Weston rose slowly and then made a rush for the door.
The husband and wife were left alone.