His Majesty's Well-Beloved Part 23

"The fair Lady Babs," one of the young Gallants was saying with studied Flippancy, "is more beautiful than ever, methinks; even though she goes about garbed in the Robes of Sorrow."

"Poor young thing!" commented His Grace of Buckingham kindly. "She has been hard hit in that last Affair."

"I wonder what has happened to Wychwoode," added Lord Rochester, who had been a known Friend of Lord Douglas.

"Oh! he reached Holland safely enough," another Gentleman whom I did not know averred. "I suppose he thinks that it will all blow over presently and that he will obtain a free pardon--"

"Like my Lord Stour," commented Mr. Betterton drily.

"Oh! that's hardly likely," interposed Sir George Etherege. "Wychwoode was up to the neck in the Conspiracy, whilst Stour was proved to be innocent of the whole affair."

"How do you know that?" Mr. Betterton asked quietly.

"How do I know it?" retorted Sir George. "Why? ... How do we all know it?"

"I was wondering," was Mr. Betterton's calm Rejoinder.

"I imagine," broke in another Gentleman, "that at the Trial--"

"Stour never stood his trial, now you come to think of it," here interposed my Lord of Rochester.

"He was granted a free Pardon," a.s.serted His Grace of Buckingham, "two days after his Arrest."

"At the Instance of the Countess of Castlemaine, so I am told,"

concluded Mr. Betterton.

You see, he only put in a Word here and there, but always to some purpose; and oh! that Purpose I simply dared not guess. I was watching him, remember, watching him as only a devoted Friend or a fond Mother know how to watch; and I saw that set look on his Face grow harder and harder and a steely, glittering Light flash out of his Eyes.

My G.o.d! how I suffered! For with that Intuition which comes to us at times when those whom we love are in deadly peril, I had suddenly beheld the Abyss of Evil into which my Friend was about to plunge headlong.

Yes! I understood now why Mr. Betterton had pleaded with my Lady Castlemaine for his Enemy's Life. It was not in order to confer upon him a lasting benefit and thus shame him by his Magnanimity; but rather in order to do him an Injury so irreparable that even Death could not wipe it away.

But you shall judge, dear Mistress; and thus judging You will understand much that has been so obscure in my dear Friend's Character and in his Actions of late. And to understand All is to forgive All. One thing you must remember, however, and that is that no Man of Mr. Betterton's Worth hath ever suffered in his Pride and his innermost Sensibilities as he hath done at the Hands of that young Jackanapes whom he hated-as I had good cause to know now-with an Intensity which was both cruel and relentless. He meant to be even with him, to fight him with his own Weapons, which were those of Contempt and of Ridicule. He meant to wound there, where he himself had suffered most, in Reputation and in Self-Respect.

I saw it all, and was powerless to do aught save to gaze in mute Heart-Agony on the marring of a n.o.ble Soul. Nay! I am not ashamed to own it: I did in my Heart condemn my Friend for what he had set out to do. I too hated Lord Stour, G.o.d forgive me! but two months ago I would gladly have seen his arrogant Head fall upon the Scaffold; but this subtle and calculating Revenge, this cold Intrigue to ruin a Man's Reputation and to besmirch his Honour, was beyond my ken, and I could have wept to see the great Soul of the Man, whom I admired most in all the World, a prey to such an evil Purpose.

"We all know," one of the young Sparks was saying even now, "that my Lady Castlemaine showed Stour marked favour from the very moment he appeared at Court."

"We also know," added Mr. Betterton with quiet Irony, "that the whisper of a beautiful Woman often drowns the loudest call of Honour."

"But surely you do not think--?" riposted Lord Rochester indignantly, "that-that--"

"That what, my lord?" queried Mr. Betterton calmly.

"Why, demme, that Stour did anything dishonourable?"

"Why should I not think that?" retorted Mr. Betterton, with a slight Elevation of the Eyebrows.

"Because he is a Stourcliffe of Stour, Sir," broke in Sir George Etherege in that loud, bl.u.s.tering way he hath at times; "and bears one of the greatest Names in the Land."

"A great Name is hereditary, Sir," rejoined the great Actor quietly.

"Honesty is not."

"But what does Lady Castlemaine say about it all?" interposed Lord Orrery.

"Lady Castlemaine hath not been questioned on the subject, I imagine,"

interposed Sir William Davenant drily.

"Ah!" rejoined His Grace of Buckingham. "There you are wrong, Davenant.

I remember speaking to her Ladys.h.i.+p about Stour one day-saying how glad I was that he, at any rate, had had nothing to do with that abominable Affair."

"Well?" came eagerly from every one. "What did she say?"

His Grace remained thoughtful for a time, as if trying to recollect Something that was eluding his Memory. Then he said, turning to Mr.

Betterton:

"Why, Tom, you were there at the time. Do You recollect? It was at one of Her Ladys.h.i.+p's Supper Parties. His Majesty was present. We all fell to talking about the Conspiracy, and the King said some very bitter things. Then I thought I would say something about Stour. You remember?"

"Oh, yes!" replied Mr. Betterton.

"What did Lady Castlemaine say?"

"I don't think she said anything. Methinks she only laughed."

"So she did!" a.s.sented His Grace; "and winked at You, you Rogue! I recollect the Circ.u.mstance perfectly now, though I attached no importance to it at the time. But I can see it all before me. His Majesty frowned and continued to look glum, whilst the Countess of Castlemaine vowed with a laugh that, anyway, my lord Stour was the handsomest Gentleman in London, and that 'twere a pity to allow such a beautiful Head to fall on the Scaffold."

"It certainly sounds very strange," mused my Lord Rochester, and fell to talking in Whispers with Sir George Etherege, whilst His Grace of Buckingham went and sat down beside Mr. Betterton, and obviously started to discuss the Incident of the Supper Party all over again with the great Actor. Other isolated Groups also formed themselves, and I knew that my Lord Stour's Name was on every one's lips.

Traducement and Gossip is Meat and Drink to all these n.o.ble and distinguished Gentlemen, and here they had something to talk about, which would transcend in Scandal anything that had gone before. The story about my Lord Stour would spread with the Rapidity which only evil-loving Tongues can give. Alas! my poor Friend knew that well enough when he shot his poisoned Arrows into the Air. I was watching him whilst His Grace of Buckingham conversed with him: I saw the feverishly keen look in his eyes as he, in his turn, watched the Ball of Slander and Gossip being tossed about from one Group to another. He said but little, hardly gave Answer to His Grace; but I could see that he was on the alert, ready with other little poisoned Darts whenever he saw Signs of weakening in the Volume of Backbiting, which he had so deliberately set going.

"I liked Stour and I admired him," Lord Rochester said at one time. "I could have sworn that Nature herself had written 'honest man' on his face."

"Ah!--" interposed Mr. Betterton, with that quiet Sarcasm which I had learned to dread. "Nature sometimes writes with a very bad Pen."

3

It was not to be wondered at that the Scandal against my Lord Stour, which was started in the Green Room of the Theatre, grew in Magnitude with amazing Rapidity. I could not tell you, dear Mistress, what my innermost feelings were in regard to the Matter: being an humble and ignorant Clerk and devoted to the one Man to whom I owe everything that makes life pleasing. I had neither the Wish nor the mental Power to tear my Heart to Pieces, in order to find out whether it beat in Sympathy with my Friend, or with the Victim of such a complete and deadly Revenge.

My Lord Stour was not then in London. He too, like many of his Friends-notably the Marquis of Sidbury and others not directly accused of Partic.i.p.ation in the aborted Plot-had retired to his Country Estate, probably unwilling to witness the gaieties of City Life, while those he cared for most were in such dire Sorrow. But now that the Lady Barbara and her Father were once more in Town, there was little doubt that he too would return there presently. Since he was a free Man, and Lord Douglas Wychwoode had succeeded in evading the Law, there was no doubt that the natural Elasticity of Youth coupled with the prospect of the happy future which lay before him, would soon enable him to pick up the Threads of Life, there where they had been so unexpectedly and ruthlessly entangled.

I imagine that when his Lords.h.i.+p first arrived in Town and once more established himself in the magnificent Mansion in Canon's Row which I had bitter cause to know so well, he did not truly visualize the Atmosphere of brooding Suspicion which encompa.s.sed him where e'er he went. If he did notice that one or two of his former Friends did give him something of a cold shoulder, I believe that he would attribute this more to political than to personal Reasons. He had undoubtedly been implicated in a Conspiracy which was universally condemned for its Treachery and Disloyalty, and no doubt for a time he would have to bear the brunt of public Condemnation, even though the free Pardon, which had so unexpectedly been granted him, proved that he had been more misguided than really guilty.

His Arrival in London, his Appearance in Public Places, his obvious ignorance of the Cloud which was hanging over his fair Name, were the subject of constant Discussion and Comment in the Green Room of the Theatre as well as elsewhere. And I take it that his very Insouciance, the proud Carelessness wherewith he met the cold Reception which had been granted him, would soon have got over the scandalous tale which constant Gossip alone kept alive, except that one tongue-and one alone-never allowed that Gossip to rest.

And that Tongue was an eloquent as well as a bitter one, and more cunning than even I could ever have believed.

How oft in the Green Room, in the midst of a brilliant Company, have I listened to the flippant talk of gay young Sparks, only to hear it drifting inevitably toward the Subject of my Lord Stour, and of that wholly unexplainable Pardon, which had left him a free Man, whilst all his former a.s.sociates had either perished as Traitors, or were forced to lead the miserable life of an Exile, far from Home, Kindred and Friends.