The great roxhythe, p.2
The Great Roxhythe, page 2
“Gentlemen, I await your convenience,” he said.
Buckingham passed his comfit-box to Ashley, who sat nearest him.
“May I not tempt you, my lord? I assure—”
“I thank your Grace, no!” said Ashley, curtly.
“Then my Lord Roxhythe?”
Roxhythe accepted a violet-tinted sweetmeat, and handed the box back to his Grace.
Villiers watched him anxiously.
“A delicate flavour, you’ll agree, my lord? I have scoured London and not found another maker to rival this one.”
Roxhythe lifted his hand.
“I seem to catch the name in the flavour, sir ... Champlin—no ... Ah! Tonier!”
“You’re right,” nodded Buckingham. “Tonier. I set great store by my comfits.”
Ashley interrupted at this, seeing that Roxhythe seemed disposed to continue the subject.
“Gentlemen, we have met to discuss more important matters than your sweetmeats!” he said quickly.
Haughtily Buckingham raised his eyebrows. Then he let them fall again, and yawned.
“My Lord Roxhythe will forgive the abruptness,” he drawled. “I shall hope to continue our little conversation another time, sir.”
“Your Grace still gives me something to live for,” replied Roxhythe sweetly.
Ashley brought his clenched fist down on the table.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” he cried. “I must beseech your attention!” Instantly Roxhythe turned to him.
“Your pardon, my lord! I stand rebuked. Well, I have had speech with His Majesty.” He sat back, waiting for Ashley to speak.
“Oh, have you so?” asked Buckingham sleepily. “How doth His Majesty? I have not seen him in these two days.”
“Very well, sir—considering ...”
Ashley flashed angrily.
“Well, sirs! And is this the time or the place to bandy questions concerning His Majesty’s health? We are here on business of great importance—”
Buckingham was moved to sit up.
“My lord! His Majesty’s health—”
“Is of great moment, your Grace, as I am perfectly well aware! But we have no time to waste now! We must come to our business at once! Already we waste time with all this talk of sweetmeats and—”
“Gentlemen, I beg you not to quarrel here, in His Majesty’s apartments,” interposed Roxhythe very coldly. “My lord, if you will give me your attention for one moment!”
Before Ashley, indignant at the implied reproof, had time to do more than open his mouth, Roxhythe had begun to speak, concisely, but with the air of one bored beyond measure.
“His Majesty did me the honour of requesting my presence this morning, when he did propound to me a scheme which he hath in mind. This I need not speak of to you, gentlemen, for I know that you are party to the intrigue.” Here he bowed. “His Majesty further honoured me by commanding my services in the matter, desiring me to be his messenger to his nephew, the Prince of Orange. This I did undertake, and His Majesty at once commanded me to seek you out for the further propounding of the matter. Allow me to say also, gentlemen, that I am entirely at your disposal.”
“Very prettily said,” commented his Grace, opening one eye. “I swear I could not reel it off so pat.”
“I gather, ; my lord, that His Majesty apprised you of our intentions?”
“His Majesty told me that Prince William was to be cozened to our side, and the Provinces to pay yearly tribute to England.”
“That is so.”
Roxhythe felt Buckingham’s eyes upon him. He knew then that Charles had made no secret of his intentions to the Duke. As yet he could not judge of Ashley’s knowledge, but he thought it unlikely that this man should be privy to the King’s aims.
“I see you know it all,” continued Ashley. “It but remains to, arrange that you depart in such a way that the French Ambassador’s spies shall not suspect you; and to read you your instruction.”
Roxhythe bowed.
“His Majesty desires you to travel by sea to Flushing, where it is believed your lordship has friends.”
Again Roxhythe bowed.
“You are to journey to the Hague, but in such a way as to excite no suspicion. So the first day you will ride no further than Bergen-op-Zoom; the second to Gertruydenberg; the third to Rotterdam, and so to the Hague itself. We leave to your discretion the time you spend in each of these towns. It is possible you may have to allay suspicion by remaining in each some days. It is almost certain that you will be spied upon. If the Duke of York, or the French Ambassador, M. de Rouvigny, were to hear, of the affair, they would do all in their power to stop, you gaining access to the Prince. When you are come at length to the Hague you will in some way—”
“Which we leave to your discretion, knowing none ourselves,” put in Buckingham.
“—in some way gain entrance to the palace. You must deliver the King his packet into the Prince his hands, and bring back an answer. That is the whole plan in rough, my lord.”
“Neat, eh, my lord?” said Buckingham lazily. “You must take care, however, to allay the spies’ suspicion. In all probability they will be with you on the boat, but no doubt you will contrive to shake them off during the journey, even an they do arrive at the Hague to meet you.”
Ashley broke in.
“The other matter, which is of great importance, my lord, is the manner of your departure.”
“Surely an escort as far as Harwich ...?” asked Villiers, surprised. “He cannot then come to much harm this side of the water.”
“Your Grace is pleased to make a mock of me,” retorted Ashley with quiet dignity. “My Lord Roxhythe, you have no suggestion to put forward?”
Roxhythe left off playing with the tassel of his glove and looked up.
“Why no, sir. Unless it might be that I should fall under the displeasure of His Majesty and be forced to leave the country for a spell.”
Ashley brought the knuckles of his right hand into the palm of his left.
“You have hit on it, sir! Why, it is the very thing! A public rebuff; coldness from His Majesty! It lends verisimilitude to the affair at once!”
Villiers looked curiously across at my lord.
“So you’ll do that, eh?”
“Why not, sir?” Roxhythe opened his eyes rather wide.
“Damme if I would!” remarked his Grace. “Well, well! what next?”
Ashley started to fidget with some papers lying on the table. His lace became more harassed than ever.
“There is one other matter which I hardly like to mention to your lordship. And that is—plainly speaking— the—ah—in spite of His Majesty’s—I may say—very straitened circumstances—it is the—er—”
Buckingham burst into a great laugh.
“Odd’s blood, but the man stumbles like a cat on hot bricks! ’Tis the payment that he tries to speak of, Roxhythe! ”
“We—leave it to your lordship’s discretion, of course.”
“You’ll need to have a vast amount of that discretion!” chuckled the Duke.
“Your Grace!—to your lordship’s discretion—how much money you should require for the expenses of the journey.” He stopped, and glanced with some anxiety into my lord’s ironic eyes.
Buckingham drawled something about the King’s purse that made my lord’s hand clench suddenly on the glove he held. Ashley’s discomfiture amused him. He prolonged it for some moments. Then he began to speak, very slowly.
“Set your minds at rest, gentlemen. His Majesty knows I shall not ask him for money.” He paused, frowning. A little sneering laugh from Villiers affected him not a whit. Ashley watched him closely. “One thing, however, I must have.”
“Oho!” Buckingham flashed a look at Ashley.
“May we know what that is, sir?” asked Ashley.
Roxhythe toyed again with his glove.
“I require a gentleman to go with me.”
The relief on both men’s faces was ludicrous.
“Well, sir!” said Ashley briskly. “That is no such great matter!”
Roxhythe was pained.
“Pardon me, sir. I mean a man who may be to some extent cognizant of the intrigue; who will be loyal to me; who will transact all the business of transport for me; who will take orders from no one but me; who will act in implicit obedience to me. In short, gentlemen, one who is trustworthy and discreet.”
Buckingham stared at him gloomily.
“In these days!” he said, patiently exasperated. “Really, my lord!”
But Ashley had his finger to his teeth, biting the nail.
“You hear, sir?” asked Buckingham.
“Ay. I hear,” murmured Ashley, abstractedly. “Wait!”
“He knows of such a man!” breathed Buckingham. “Well, well!” He crossed his legs, and surveyed his gay rosettes.
“You have no one in mind, Lord Roxhythe?” asked Ashley, suddenly.
“I? No.”
“How should he?” sneered the Duke.
“Then I believe I know the man you seek.”
“That is very good hearing, sir. Who is he?”
“He is by name Dart. Christopher Dart. He is little more than a boy, it’s true, but I knew his father well, and I know his brother. I could vouch for his character. They come of a very old Suffolk family, and they are intensely patriotic. Chris came to my house only last week, asking me if I had work for him. I did promise to keep him in mind. He is the very man you want, my lord, and more than ever so as his brother is in the Prince his service at the Hague.”
Even Buckingham was roused.
“Roxhythe his difficulties fade before this youth,” he remarked. Roxhythe laid down his glove.
“Proceed, sir, I beg of you!”
“The boy will serve you faithfully enough; of that I am sure. As to his brother, Roderick, he was placed with His Highness by De Witt himself, so he is not suspected by the Prince his governors. Young Christopher spoke of him when I saw him. He told me that Roderick has learnt to worship the Prince, and would die for him, and much more heroic talk beside. If you can use Christopher to gain his brother, half your difficulty is gone!”
“Why, so it seems!” bowed Roxhythe. “I am indebted to you, sir.”
“I will send to Chris to come to see me to-morrow,” continued Ashley. “Unless you yourself will see him, sir.”
“Where does the prodigal lodge?” inquired Roxhythe.
“In Milford Lane—Number seven.”
“I’ll visit him myself, then, sir, and learn his mind. I may use your name?”
“Surely, my lord!”
“Then he will run to you to hear your advice, and, acting on it, accept the post of secretary which I offer.”
Ashley saw the wisdom of this.
“Very well, sir. And for the rest?”
“I’ll wait on you,” said Roxhythe. He turned to Buckingham and bowed. Then he bowed to Ashley. “There is nothing more you have to tell me?”
Ashley shook his head.
“At present, nothing, sir. If you will visit me later in the week I will have everything clear.”
Roxhythe picked up his hat.
“Then, with your permission, gentlemen, I’ll leave you.”
“One moment, Roxhythe!” It was Buckingham who spoke. “We may leave to you the task of informing His Majesty of your decision?”
“My decision?” interrogated Roxhythe.
“That blind to the French spies you spoke of. The public rebuff.” The sneer was thinly veiled.
Roxhythe looked over his shoulder.
“Yes. You may leave that to me. I will speak to His Majesty.”
“I am relieved,” smiled the Duke. He watched my lord go out, and the smile faded. He flung himself back in his chair with a short laugh. “The fool!” he exclaimed. “The fond fool!”
“No, I do not think him that,” said Ashley. “But I wish it were any other than he. I do not trust him; he is too secret. I would he were more a fool; I should be more at ease.”
“Of course he is a fool! What sane man undertakes the King’s most expensive tasks and asks no payment? A fond fool, I tell you!”
“I think he loves the King very dearly,” slowly remarked my lord. “Or else he feigns well. Yet I do not trust him, for I think him selfish, and I do not think he cares overmuch for the country.”
“Oh, ye set too great store on the man, sir! A public rebuff! He who has never endured a slight from the King! He is mad!”
“No, he loves the King. But I wish it were other than he.” He sighed, and gathered together his papers. “I do not conceal from your Grace that I have grave misgivings concerning this business.”
Buckingham chuckled.
CHAPTER III
Christopher Dart
Roxhythe made his way back to the gallery. He found it crowded, and across the room caught sight of the King sitting with la belle Stewart, and laughing boisterously at some witty shaft aimed by Killigrew, standing near. Lady Castlemaine was by the door as he entered, in one of her black moods. He addressed her lightly, bowing. She turned.
“Ah, Roxhythe!” The frown cleared somewhat. “You have not been at Court these last few days. What ailed you?”
“A trifling indisposition, madame. I am flattered that you marked my absence.”
“We missed you at the ball,” she answered. “It was a pretty evening. You heard?”
“I heard that your ladyship was much admired. Sedley spoke of a yellow gown, of blue ribands, of—”
“Yes. And what said Sir Charles of Miss Stewart?” She spat the words at him.
“He did not speak of her,” said Roxhythe, calmly. “She was present?”
“Ay, the hussy!” Lady Castelmaine struck her fan into the palm of her hand. “The minx! Flaunting her airs and her graces before mine eyes! The bread-and-butter miss!”
Roxhythe shook with quiet laughter. Her ladyship flung him a wrathful glance.
“Oh, laugh, Roxhythe, by all means! I make no doubt you are stricken with the same madness! La belle Stewart! Tchah!” She moved angrily away.
Roxhythe felt the King’s eyes upon him. As soon as he could conveniently do so, he made his way to where Charles was sitting, and went to talk to Digby who stood behind the King’s chair with one or two others.
Presently Charles rose and walked with his fair companion to the door. He nodded carelessly to Roxhythe.
“Davy, be sure you visit me to-morrow.” It was affectionately said; the Monarch conferring a favour on his courtier. Roxhythe bowed.
“I thank your Majesty.”
Charles passed on.
The audience next morning was short. Charles was in a flippant mood, and although he at first objected to publicly snubbing his favourite, he soon consented. He was more interested in Roxhythe’s account of yesterday’s interview, and he laughed heartily at the description of the ill-assorted pair. For a fleeting few moments he was inclined to cancel his commands, reproaching himself for thinking to send Roxhythe into danger. Then that inclination faded, and he fell to discussing various minor details with Roxhythe.
In the evening Roxhythe went to visit Christopher Dart.
Christopher lived in a house looking out on to the river; a jeweller’s shop, over which he rented rooms. On this particular evening he was on the point of going to bed when the little serving-maid knocked on the door, and shrilled through the key-hole that a gentleman wanted to see Mr. Dart. Christopher had already snuffed two candles, and he paused now in the act of pinching the third. He went to the door and opened it.
The maid did not know who the gentleman was.
Christopher looked at her surprisedly. His friends in London were few, and they did not call on him at eleven at night.
The maid smoothed her dress with plump, red hands.
“I told the gentleman ye were like to be abed, sir,” she said, with a pert toss of her head. She glanced at Christopher from beneath her lashes. He was a comely boy.
“Well, I’m not abed, Lucy. But I was on the point of retiring when you came.”
“Be I to send him about his business, sir?” Her tone implied that she would find the task congenial.
“No,” said Christopher, slowly. “ ’Tis not so often that I have a visitor that I can afford to deny myself.” His solemnity vanished in a smile. “Will you show him upstairs, Lucy?”
“A great mill-post of a creature all wrapped up in a coat!” she sniffed. “And not a mite of his face to be seen for his hat all down on his nose!”
“A dangerous fellow,” agreed Christopher, twinkling. “But I have my sword over in the corner there! Don’t keep him waiting, child.”
He tried to think who would be likely to come disguised to see him. His friends were of a peaceable nature, nor had he one amongst them who could be considered taller than the average. While the maid was clattering down the stairs, he re-lit the two snuffed candles, and stirred the dying fire to a blaze. He was youthful enough to cast a glance into the mirror over the mantlepiece, and to straighten his hair. It was his own, and he wore it in natural curls about his shoulders.
The maid opened the door. She put her head into the room, announcing resentfully: “The gentleman!” and vanished.
Roxhythe came forward, removing his hat.
Christopher gazed at him in perplexity. It must be remembered that he was not long come from the country, and had seen very few notables of the town. His visitor’s face was totally unfamiliar.
Roxhythe shed his heavy cloak. He was gorgeously dressed in rose velvet and purple trimmings, for he had come straight from Whitehall. As he dropped his cloak on to a chair he smiled at Christopher who stared the harder.
“I must really apologize,” said Roxhythe, in his inimitable way. “It is quite disgraceful of me to wait on you at this hour, Mr. Dart. But I have been much occupied, believe me. I am relieved to find you not yet asleep; much relieved.”
Christopher swallowed twice, and stammered something inane. The deep brown eyes cast a spell over him which was strengthened by his visitor’s strange manner. Feeling that his murmured remark was inadequate, he bowed, and told Roxhythe that he was honoured. From my lord’s attitude he supposed that he had met him somewhere and forgotten him. He did not know the ways of Roxhythe.
