Shrewsbury: A Romance

  CHAPTER XVII

  Truth to tell, I desired nothing so much as to be gone and be out ofthis imbroglio; and the woman, whom madam had called Monterey,twitching my sleeve and whispering me, I followed her, and slipped outas quickly as I could through the door by which we had entered. Evenso we were not a moment too soon, if I was to retreat unseen. For asthe curtain dropped behind me I heard a man's voice in the room I hadleft, and the woman with me chancing to have the lamp, which she hadlifted from the table, in her hand at the instant--so that the lightfell brightly on her face--I was witness of an extraordinary changewhich passed over her features. She grew rigid with rage--rage, I tookit to be--and stood listening with distended eyes, in perfectforgetfulness of my presence; until, seeming at last to remember me,she glanced from me to the curtain and from the curtain to me in akind of frantic uncertainty; being manifestly torn in two between thedesire to hear what passed, and the desire to see me out that I mightnot hear. But as, to effect the latter she must sacrifice the former,it did not require a sage to predict which impulse, curiosity incitedby hatred or mere prudence, would prevail with a woman. And as thesage would have predicted so it happened; after making an abortivemovement as if she would place the lamp in my hands, she stealthilylaid it on the table beside her, and making me a sign to wait and besilent, bent eagerly to listen.

  I fancy that it was the mention of her own name turned the scale; forthat was the first word that caught my ear, and who that was a womanwould not listen, being mentioned? The speaker was her mistress, andthe words "What, Monterey?" uttered in a voice a little sharp andraised, were as clearly heard as if we had been in the room.

  "Yes, madam," came the answer.

  "Well," my lady replied with a chuckle, "I do not think that you arethe person who ought to----"

  "Object? Perhaps not, my lady mother," came the answer. The speaker'stone was one of grave yet kindly remonstrance; the voice quite strangeto me. "But that is precisely why I do," he continued. "I cannot thinkit wise or fitting that you should keep her about you."

  "You kept her long enough about you!" madam answered, in a tonebetween vexation and raillery.

  "I own it; and I am not proud of it," the new-comer rejoined. Whereat,though I was careful not to look at the woman listening beside me, Isaw the veins in one of her hands which was under my eyes swell withthe rage in her, and the nail of the thumb grow white with thepressure she was placing on the table to keep herself still. "I amvery far from proud of it," the speaker continued, "and for the matterof that----"

  "You were always a bit of a Puritan, Charles," my lady cried.

  "It may be."

  "I am sure I do not know where you get it from," madam continuedirritably, stirring in her chair--I heard it crack, and her voice toldthe rest. "Not from me, I'll swear!"

  "I never accused you, madam."

  That answer seemed to please her, for on the instant she went off intosuch a fit of laughter as fairly choked her. When she had a littlerecovered from the paroxysm of coughing that followed this, "You canbe more amusing than you think, Charles," she said. "If your fatherhad had a spark of your humour----"

  "I thought that it was agreed between us that we should not talk ofhim," the man said gravely, and with a slight suspicion of sternnessin his voice.

  "Oh, if you are on your high horse!" madam answered, "the devil takeyou! But, there, I am sure that I do not want to talk of him, poorman. He was dull enough. Let us talk of something livelier, let ustalk of Monterey instead; what is amiss with her?"

  "I do not think that she is a fit person to be about you."

  "Why not? She is married now," my lady retorted. "D'ye know that?"

  "Yes, I heard some time ago that she was married; to Mr. Bridges'steward at Kingston."

  "Matthew Smith?"

  "Yes."

  "And who recommended _him_ to my husband, I should like to know?"madam answered in a tone of malice. "Why, you, my friend."

  "It is possible. I remember something of the kind."

  "And who recommended him to you? Why, she did: in the days when youdid not warn people against her." And madam chuckled wickedly.

  "It is possible," he answered, "but the matter is twelve years old,and more; and I do not want to----"

  "Go back to it," madam cried sharply. "I can quite understand that.Nor to have Monterey about to remind you of it--and of your wildoats."

  "Perhaps."

  "Perhaps, Mr. Square-Toes? You know it is the case!" was the vividanswer. "For otherwise, as I like the woman, and now, at all events,she is married--what is against her?"

  "I do not trust her," was the measured answer. "And, madam, in thesedays people are more strait-laced than they were; it is not fitting."

  "That for people!" my lady cried with a reckless good humour thatwould have been striking in one half her age. "People! Odds my life,when did I care for people? But come, I will make a bargain with you.Tit for tat. A Roland for your Oliver! If you will give me your Anne Iwill give you my Monterey."

  "My Anne?" he exclaimed, in a tone of complete bewilderment.

  "Yes, your Anne! Come, my Monterey for your Anne!"

  There was silence for a moment, and then "I do not at all understandyou," he said.

  "Don't you? I think you do," she answered lightly. "Look you,

  'When William king is William king no more.'

  Now, you understand?"

  "I understand, my lady, that you are saying things which are notfitting for me to hear," the man answered, in a tone of colddispleasure. "The King, thank God, is well. When he ails, it will betime to talk of his succession."

  "It will be a little late then," she retorted. "In the meantime, andto please me----"

  He raised his hand in protest. "Anything else," he said.

  "You have not yet heard what I propose," she cried, her voice shrillwith anger. "It is a trifle, and to please me you might well do it.Set your hand to a note which I will see delivered in the properquarter; promising nothing in the Prince's life-time--there! but onlythat in the event of his death you will support a Restoration."

  "I cannot do it," he answered.

  "Cannot do it?" she rejoined with heat. "Why not? You have done asmuch before."

  "It maybe: and been forgiven for it by the best master man ever had!"

  "Who feels nothing, forgives easily," she sneered.

  "But not twice," he said gravely. "The King----"

  "Which King?"

  "The only King I acknowledge," he answered, unmoved. "Who knows,believe me, so much more than you give him credit for, that it werewell if your friends bethought them of that before it be too late. Hehas winked at much and forgiven more--no one knows it better thanI--but he is not blinded; and there is a point, madam, beyond which hecan be as steadfast to punish as your King. If Sir John Fenwick,therefore, who I know well, is in England----"

  But at that she cut him short, carried away by a passion, which shehad curbed as long as it was in her impetuous nature to curb anything."Odds my life!" she cried, and at the sound of her voice uplifted in ashriek of anger, the woman listening beside me raised her face tomine, and smiled cruelly--"Odds my life, your King and my King! Kingsindeed! Why, mannikin, how many Kings do you think there are! By G--d,Master Charles, you will learn one of these days that there is but oneKing, sent by God, one King and no more, and that his yea and nay arelife and death! You fool, you! I tell you, you are trembling on theedge, you are tottering! A day, a week, a month, at most, and youfall--unless you clutch at the chance of safety I offer you! Sign thenote! Sign the note, man! No one but the King and Middleton shall knowof it; and when the day comes, as come it will, it shall avail you."

  "Never, madam," was the cold and unmoved answer.

  So much I heard and my lady's oath and volley of abuse; but in themidst of this, and while she still raged, my companion, satisfied Isuppose with what she had learned, and assured that her lady would notget her way, twitched my sleeve, an
d softly taking up the lamp, signedto me to go before her. I obeyed nothing loth, and regaining the smallante-room by which I had entered, found the man Smith awaiting us.

  When they had whispered together, "I'll see you home, Mr. Taylor,"said he, somewhat grimly. "And to-morrow I will call and talkbusiness. What we want you to do is a very simple matter."

  "It is simply that my lady's son is a fool!" the woman cried,snappishly.

  "Well," he said, smiling, "I should hardly call my Lord Shrewsburythat!"

  The woman screamed and clapped her hand to his mouth. "You babblingidiot!" she cried, in a passion. "You have let it out."

  He stood gaping. "Good lord!" he said.

  "You have let it out with a vengeance now!" she repeated, furiously.

  He looked foolish; and at last, "He did not hear," he said.

  "Hear? He heard, unless he is deaf!" she retorted. "You may lay youraccount with that. For me, I'll leave you. You have done the mischiefand may mend it."