CHAPTER XVIII.
TWO CARDS PLAYED.
The morning following the scene with Ripon, his Majesty was in anill-temper. The events of the evening were not pleasant to remember;then the King had lost largely at poker, and had passed a sleeplessnight. Mrs. Carey had sent word that she had not recovered from herfainting fit, and was not yet visible. Old Bugbee's promised remittancehad not arrived. And the entire court joined in what seemed a deliberateeffort to make things generally disagreeable. The pages who were on dutyat the royal toilet came in for some bad moments; and young LordGladstone Churchill privately confided to Paran Paget that he had neverseen the old man in such a devil of a wax.
It seemed to the King that times had sadly changed from the regency ofhis grandfather. Nobody had ever ventured to argue with him about thedesirability of the company he chose to keep. But now Wellington, theLord Chamberlain, and the Archbishop of Canterbury had as much as toldKing George that he must break with Mrs. Carey. It was hard if hecouldn't have his own way even in the little court at the South End.True, the papers had been full of Mrs. Carey these three months--thelast _Sunday Globe_ had contained a grand plan of her own and the royalapartments, and the _Advertiser_ of the following day had printed,without apparent reason, an editorial upon Mademoiselle de la Valliere.But the King considered it highly impertinent of American journals tomake any personal comment whatever upon majesty, and had almost burst ablood-vessel when approached soon after his arrival by an interviewerfrom the New York _Herald_.
Still, there was one ugly fact remaining--Mrs. Carey's fainting fit.What could have frightened her into that? Not Lord Brompton, with allhis rhodomontade--the King liked to call it rhodomontade; it soothed acertain uneasy feeling he had had at times about his own part in theaffair. Brompton was ardent enough, but he was not well balanced; he wasimpracticable; he did not properly sense the feeling of the times, butwas eager to force an opportunity. Well, well--where was Mrs. Carey? Itwas audience time, and he meant to have her receive, with the ladies inwaiting. He rang the bell, and a page entered with a card. The Kinglooked at it, surprised; the card was something between an ordinaryvisiting card and a tradesman's circular:
___________________________________ | | | [COAT OF ARMS.] | | | | JARLEY JAWKINS, | | | | MASTER OF SOCIAL CEREMONIES | | | | and | | | | PURVEYOR OF GUESTS | | | | TO HIS MAJESTY THE KING. | | | -----------------------------------
The King threw himself upon the throne--it was a fine old carved oakchair, one which had come over in the Mayflower--and waited.
Jawkins entered, bowing low. It was the first time he had ever met hisMajesty face to face. As he slowly approached the throne his knees bentat their hinges, until with the last step they touched the floor with aheavy thud (Jawkins was a portly little man) as he kissed the royal handthat was kindly extended. When he rose, which was with considerabledifficulty, he backed slowly away. As he saw no chair and did not dareto turn around, there was nothing for it but to continue backing; whichhe did, until he brought up with a crash against a large photograph ofNiagara that was hanging on the wall of the chamber. Here he stoodlooking at the King, but hardly within speaking distance.
"Mr. Jawkins, I believe?"
"Sir, yes," said Jawkins, who did not like to say "Yes, sir," as beingtoo colloquial.
"We have often heard of you, Jawkins, and favorably," the monarch wenton. "I understand that several of our poorer gentlemen are indebted toyour exertions for their--ahem--pocket money."
Jawkins smiled. "Well, sir, I flatter myself I have been the discovererof retiring talent to some extent. But the money obligation is mutual,sir--mutual." And Jawkins so far forgot himself as to slap his pockets.
"Dear me," said George the Fifth, "dear me. You must be very rich.Is--is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Jawkins?"
Jawkins's manner suddenly changed, and he became again the serious manof affairs. "Yes, your Majesty--there is something I wish to--tosuggest--merely suggest to your Majesty." The King was silent, andJawkins wiped his bald head with a handkerchief. His small head,ordinarily of the shape and color of a ripe cherry, took a still deeperred as he stammered for words with which to proceed. Finally he spoke;humbly, in a manner almost servile, but fixed and cool.
"I have--to beg your Majesty--to consider--the propriety--of keepingMrs. Oswald Carey at court."
The King stared stonily at Jawkins, who cowered close to the wall, butwent on.
"After what happened at Aldershot?"
"Aldershot!"
Jawkins saw that he had arrested the King's attention, and went on,hurriedly. "The day was lost at Aldershot almost without a blow. It wasbecause the enemy were prepared on all sides. They had known of theplanned rising for days. They were armed and ready at all points. Allthe disaffected regiments were marched away, and with them many of theofficers who were in the plot. The whole force of the government was ator around Aldershot that day. The fleet was in the river. Worst of all,the secret of the conspiracy was carefully circulated among all theofficers on whom they could rely, with instructions to prepare theirmen, even to sound them in advance. And it was Mrs. Carey herself whocarried the information to the government."
"Impossible." The King made as if to rise.
"One moment more, your Majesty--just a moment. I knew all this almost atthe time. Mrs. Carey was staying at a country house in one of my partieswhen she met the leaders of the noble attempt. It was she who bore toBagshaw the written evidence upon which Sir John Dacre was shot, and theothers condemned to prison. Think but for one moment, your Majesty, theday might still perhaps have been gained at Aldershot, but for onething--the King did not appear. Consider, sir. Who was it who preventedyour Majesty from going to Aldershot that day?"
Jawkins heard the King mutter a curse to himself. He hastened tocomplete his victory, and pulling out a sealed document, unrolled it,and handed it to the King. It was the reappointment, signed by Bagshaw,of Oswald Carey to the Stamp and Sealing-Wax Office.
"This, your Majesty, was handed to me by President Bagshaw himself, togive to Mrs. Carey, as his private agent."
King George looked over it hastily, and then rising, paced nervously upand down the room. Jawkins kept silence.
After some minutes the King stopped in his walk. "Well--if this betrue--Mrs. Carey is an agreeable woman. Suppose I chose, withouttrusting her, to permit her company--"
The King interrupted himself for a moment, as he caught Jawkins's eye.Then he resumed his walk hastily. "Yes, yes," he concluded, "I supposeyou are right."
Jawkins looked carefully around the room, and then continued in a lowervoice, "Does your Majesty know--what they say at court--that Mrs. Careywishes to be the King's--" George stopped him with a look.
"Yes, yes--I know all that."
"The American divorce laws are very lax, they say," Jawkins went on,"and if the King were to marry her--"
"Marry her!" thundered the King; "God, man, what do you mean?"
"If I proved to your Majesty that such was her aim?"
"She should leave the court this instant."
"Will your Majesty permit me to send for her?"
Jawkins rang the bell for a messenger.
While this scene was going on between Jawkins and the King, the fairsubject of their discussion was differently engaged. She, too, hadpassed a sleepless night. The sight of Geoffrey Ripon again had won uponher strangely, and his unworldly speech had struck some chord in thedepths of her own heart now long unused. There is no greater error thanto suppose the evil beings of this world all on
e consistent evil--thatwould be to be perfect, as Lucifer, the father of lies, alone isperfect. Every life is but a sum of actions, and in every action thegood and evil motives are most nicely balanced at the best. A slightpreponderance of evil or even some exaggerated habit of mind--a littleover-development of pride, of ambition, of passion, a too accented doubtand an overcold analysis--suffices to throw the decision on the wrongside of every case, so that the outward life appears, perhaps, oneconsistent darkness and wrong. But no one knows how near at every stepthe noble impulse came to winning.
As Eleanor Carey strained her beautiful eyes in wakeful memories thatnight, the one memory that remained to her was Geoffrey Ripon. When sheforced herself to close them, and tried to dream, the one dream was thedream of Geoffrey dying for his friend and laying his broken sword atthe feet of his King. When she tried to think of his picture, the onepicture she could bear to look upon was Geoffrey Ripon. It had come tothis. All the scheming and the passion of the world, and the hardambition, the cold, worldly will that lifted her almost to a seat uponthe throne--they brought her so far and left her at the feet of her oldlover. This was all.
When Mrs. Carey rose her mind was made up--this time shall we call itfor good or evil? Evil, yes; but not the same evil as yesterday's, northe evil of to-morrow. Her headache was feigned. Leaving this answerwith her maid to any inquiries, she stepped out in the early morninginto the streets. It was not hard for her to find out Geoffrey's hotel.It was a lovely morning in April, before the east wind had sprung upfrom the sea, and as she passed through the gardens the crocuses and thelittle blue flowers looked up to her as if they smiled--as if they, too,remembered other days. Mrs. Carey drew her veil about her face andwalked the faster.
Geoffrey had got up that morning as one who arises in a world that isvoid. His mission to see the King was ended; now there was nothing left.He owed to Margaret Windsor his liberty; with that gift she had richlygiven all that his friendship could claim. And at the time she had noblytold him, frankly, kindly, like a true American woman, that here it allmust end. She was to be married; and he, Geoffrey Ripon, was left--free.But he loved her still; he loved her, and there was no hope in it. What,then, was left to him? As he bitterly asked the question aloud, some oneopened the door of his room. Mrs. Oswald Carey entered.
"Mrs. Carey!"
"Geoffrey!"
Both were silent, and each stood looking at the other. Never had shebeen more beautiful than then. Her old self-possession had gone; therewas a feminine weakness in her attitude, or quiver of the limbs, aheaving of the breast that made her seem different from the Mrs. Careyof late years, and beneath the long, trembling lashes he saw her eyesglorious with the glamour as of youth, tenfold more potent. For a longtime, it seemed, he stood looking at her. At last her strength seemed togive way, and sinking into a chair she took his hand and kissed it. ThenGeoffrey broke from her.
"This is no place for you," he said, coldly.
"Geoffrey, I have come to tell you again how I loved you. I ought neverto have left you. You will not cast me off from you now?" She spokepleadingly, and stretched out one white arm as if to draw him to her."The American girl whom you thought you loved is married. We have onlyeach other, Geoffrey, now. You know you loved me once." She rose to herfull height, and looked deep into his eyes, her own on a level with his."See," she faltered, "I leave a king for you." And she drew forth alittle miniature of George the Fifth and flung it on the floor at hisfeet.
If Geoffrey had ever hesitated, it was not now, though Maggie Windsorwas lost to him, and then she had loved him. That was in the old, weakdays of his, before Dacre's death. "If Maggie Windsor is married, Godbless her!" he replied, simply. Then, walking to the door, he rang thebell.
Mrs. Carey fell back upon the chair crying. Geoffrey left the room. Aminute after he had gone she rose, and drying her tears, went to theentrance of the hotel, where she called a carriage and drove back to theCourt of St. James. She went directly into the King's anterooms. No onewas there but Jawkins.
"Ah, Mrs. Carey--just in time to remind you of our little compact," saidhe. As she looked at him, he stood, smiling grossly, vulgar, sensual,mean. All the years of her debasement came to her memory with a newsting to her wounded pride, and she swept on, ignoring him.
"Come, come, Eleanor--among old friends, this won't do, you know. Giveme your hand. Let's see--what's the price to kiss it now? It used tocost five shillings." And Jawkins imprinted an attempted kiss, clumsily,upon the palm of the hand. "When do you leave the court? They don't likeyou here overmuch, I fancy. But you've been well advertised."
Mrs. Carey lost control of herself for the first time that day.
"How dare you speak thus to me? I, who was--who am your--"
"Oswald Carey's wife," Jawkins spoke contemptuously.
"Your King's wife!" cried Mrs. Carey. Jawkins laughed and threw back acurtain. Behind it stood the King. He did not look at her, but waved herfrom him with his hand. She looked at him a minute or two, but then leftthe room. As the door closed behind her the King looked up.
"Well, Jawkins, it's done."
"Yes, your Majesty."
"She was a devilish fine woman." Jawkins started to go.
"Stay, Jawkins, a moment. Ah! you told me you had made a good mint outof--Are you in funds over here?"
"Quite, your Majesty."
"Jawkins, my bankers are devilish slow. I wish you could manage toadvance me a few thousands or so."