Henry Esmond; The English Humourists; The Four Georges Part 6

By this time the soldiers had reached Castlewood. Harry Esmond saw them from the window of the tapestry parlour; a couple of sentinels were posted at the gate-a half-dozen more walked towards the stable; and some others, preceded by their commander, and a man in black, a lawyer probably, were conducted by one of the servants to the stair leading up to the part of the house which my lord and lady inhabited.

So the captain, a handsome kind man, and the lawyer, came through the ante-room to the tapestry parlour, and where now was n.o.body but young Harry Esmond, the page.

"Tell your mistress, little man," says the captain kindly, "that we must speak to her."

"My mistress is ill abed," said the page.

"What complaint has she?" asked the captain.

The boy said, "the rheumatism!"

"Rheumatism! that's a sad complaint," continues the good-natured captain; "and the coach is in the yard to fetch the doctor, I suppose?"

"I don't know," says the boy.

"And how long has her ladys.h.i.+p been ill?"

"I don't know," says the boy.

"When did my lord go away?"

"Yesterday night."

"With Father Holt?"

"With Mr. Holt."

"And which way did they travel?" asks the lawyer.

"They travelled without me," says the page.

"We must see Lady Castlewood."

"I have orders that n.o.body goes in to her ladys.h.i.+p-she is sick," says the page; but at this moment Victoire came out. "Hus.h.!.+" says she; and, as if not knowing that any one was near, "What's this noise?" says she. "Is this gentleman the doctor?"

"Stuff! we must see Lady Castlewood," says the lawyer, pus.h.i.+ng by.

The curtains of her ladys.h.i.+p's room were down, and the chamber dark, and she was in bed with a nightcap on her head, and propped up by her pillows, looking none the less ghastly because of the red which was still on her cheeks, and which she could not afford to forgo.

"Is that the doctor?" she said.

"There is no use with this deception, madam," Captain Westbury said (for so he was named). "My duty is to arrest the person of Thomas, Viscount Castlewood, a nonjuring peer-of Robert Tusher, Vicar of Castlewood-and Henry Holt, known under various other names and designations, a Jesuit priest, who officiated as chaplain here in the late king's time, and is now at the head of the conspiracy which was about to break out in this country against the authority of their Majesties King William and Queen Mary-and my orders are to search the house for such papers or traces of the conspiracy as may be found here. Your ladys.h.i.+p will please to give me your keys, and it will be as well for yourself that you should help us, in every way, in our search."

"You see, sir, that I have the rheumatism, and cannot move," said the lady, looking uncommonly ghastly as she sat up in her bed, where however she had had her cheeks painted, and a new cap put on, so that she might at least look her best when the officers came.

"I shall take leave to place a sentinel in the chamber, so that your ladys.h.i.+p, in case you should wish to rise, may have an arm to lean on,"

Captain Westbury said. "Your woman will show me where I am to look;" and Madame Victoire, chattering in her half-French and half-English jargon, opened while the captain examined one drawer after another; but, as Harry Esmond thought, rather carelessly, with a smile on his face, as if he was only conducting the examination for form's sake.

Before one of the cupboards Victoire flung herself down, stretching out her arms, and, with a piercing shriek, cried, "_Non, jamais, monsieur l'officier! Jamais!_ I will rather die than let you see this wardrobe."

But Captain Westbury would open it, still with a smile on his face, which, when the box was opened, turned into a fair burst of laughter. It contained-not papers regarding the conspiracy-but my lady's wigs, washes, and rouge-pots, and Victoire said men were monsters, as the captain went on with his perquisition. He tapped the back to see whether or no it was hollow, and as he thrust his hands into the cupboard, my lady from her bed called out with a voice that did not sound like that of a very sick woman, "Is it your commission to insult ladies as well as to arrest gentlemen, captain?"

"These articles are only dangerous when worn by your ladys.h.i.+p," the captain said with a low bow, and a mock grin of politeness. "I have found nothing which concerns the Government as yet-only the weapons with which beauty is authorized to kill," says he, pointing to a wig with his sword-tip. "We must now proceed to search the rest of the house."

"You are not going to leave that wretch in the room with me," cried my lady, pointing to the soldier.

"What can I do, madam? Somebody you must have to smooth your pillow and bring your medicine-permit me--"

"Sir!" screamed out my lady-

"Madam, if you are too ill to leave the bed," the captain then said, rather sternly, "I must have in four of my men to lift you off in the sheet: I must examine this bed, in a word; papers may be hidden in a bed as elsewhere; we know that very well and--"

Here it was her ladys.h.i.+p's turn to shriek, for the captain, with his fist shaking the pillows and bolsters, at last came to "burn", as they say in the play of forfeits, and wrenching away one of the pillows, said, "Look, did not I tell you so? Here is a pillow stuffed with paper."

"Some villain has betrayed us," cried out my lady, sitting up in the bed, showing herself full dressed under her night-rail.

"And now your ladys.h.i.+p can move, I am sure; permit me to give you my hand to rise. You will have to travel for some distance, as far as Hexton Castle to-night. Will you have your coach? Your woman shall attend you if you like-and the j.a.pan-box?"

"Sir! you don't strike a _man_ when he is down," said my lady, with some dignity: "can you not spare a woman?"

"Your ladys.h.i.+p must please to rise and let me search the bed," said the captain; "there is no more time to lose in bandying talk."

And, without more ado, the gaunt old woman got up. Harry Esmond recollected to the end of his life that figure, with the brocade dress and the white night-rail, and the gold-clocked red stockings, and white red-heeled shoes sitting up in the bed, and stepping down from it. The trunks were ready packed for departure in her ante-room, and the horses ready harnessed in the stable: about all which the captain seemed to know, by information got from some quarter or other; and, whence, Esmond could make a pretty shrewd guess in after-times, when Dr. Tusher complained that King William's Government had basely treated him for services done in that cause.

And here he may relate, though he was then too young to know all that was happening, what the papers contained, of which Captain Westbury had made a seizure, and which papers had been transferred from the j.a.pan-box to the bed when the officers arrived.

There was a list, of gentlemen of the county in Father Holt's handwriting-Mr. Freeman's (King James's) friends-a similar paper being found among those of Sir John Fenwick and Mr. Coplestone, who suffered death for this conspiracy.

There was a patent conferring the t.i.tle of Marquis of Esmond on my Lord Castlewood, and the heirs male of his body; his appointment as lord lieutenant of the county, and major-general.(7)

There were various letters from the n.o.bility and gentry, some ardent and some doubtful, in the king's service; and (very luckily for him) two letters concerning Colonel Francis Esmond; one from Father Holt, which said, "I have been to see this colonel at his house at Walcote near to Wells, where he resides since the king's departure, and pressed him very eagerly in Mr. Freeman's cause, showing him the great advantage he would have by trading with that merchant, offering him large premiums there as agreed between us. But he says no: he considers Mr. Freeman the head of the firm, will never trade against him or embark with any other trading company, but considers his duty was done when Mr. Freeman left England.

This colonel seems to care more for his wife and his beagles than for affairs. He asked me much about young H. E., 'that b.a.s.t.a.r.d,' as he called him: doubting my lord's intentions respecting him. I rea.s.sured him on this head, stating what I knew of the lad, and our intentions respecting him, but with regard to Freeman he was inflexible."

And another letter was from Colonel Esmond to his kinsman, to say that one Captain Holton had been with him offering him large bribes to join, _you know who_, and saying that the head of the house of Castlewood was deeply engaged in that quarter. But for his part he had broke his sword when the K. left the country, and would never again fight in that quarrel. The P.

of O. was a man, at least, of a n.o.ble courage, and his duty and, as he thought, every Englishman's, was to keep the country quiet, and the French out of it: and, in fine, that he would have nothing to do with the scheme.

Of the existence of these two letters and the contents of the pillow, Colonel Frank Esmond, who became Viscount Castlewood, told Henry Esmond afterwards, when the letters were shown to his lords.h.i.+p, who congratulated himself, as he had good reason, that he had not joined in the scheme which proved so fatal to many concerned in it. But, naturally, the lad knew little about these circ.u.mstances when they happened under his eyes: only being aware that his patron and his mistress were in some trouble, which had caused the flight of the one, and the apprehension of the other by the officers of King William.

The seizure of the papers effected, the gentlemen did not pursue their further search through Castlewood house very rigorously. They examined Mr.

Holt's room, being led thither by his pupil, who showed, as the father had bidden him, the place where the key of his chamber lay, opened the door for the gentlemen, and conducted them into the room.

When the gentlemen came to the half-burned papers in the brazier, they examined them eagerly enough, and their young guide was a little amused at their perplexity.

"What are these?" says one.

"They're written in a foreign language," says the lawyer. "What are you laughing at, little whelp?" adds he, turning round as he saw the boy smile.

"Mr. Holt said they were sermons," Harry said, "and bade me to burn them;"

which indeed was true of those papers.