The King's Men: A Tale of To-morrow

by Nathan Schachner

  CHAPTER XVII.

  AT THE COURT OF ST. JAMES.

  The news of the arrival of Mrs. Oswald Carey in Boston caused someflutter in social circles. Her precise relations to the exiled Kingbecame at once a subject for speculation. Men of the world, with a tastefor scandal, shrugged their shoulders and laughed knowingly. Charitablydisposed people, who did not believe in bothering their heads abouttheir neighbors' affairs, preferred to give her the benefit of thedoubt. The serious question was whether society ought to open its doorsto her. Her reputation as a beauty had preceded her. The American publichad long been familiar with her fascinating face. Should she be welcomedas a sister or treated to the cold shoulder, which the world regards asthe due of Mary Magdalene?

  Girls settle everything in America. Two married women and a maiden metto discuss the propriety of inviting Mrs. Oswald Carey to five o'clocktea. One of them brought the particulars of her life vouched for by themost charming attaches of the court. Her career had been peculiarly sad.She was the victim of a most affecting romance. The man whom she lovedwith all the passion of which woman is capable had discarded her foranother. She had been left poor and friendless. She had supportedherself by painting china and by the pittance derived from the sale ofher photographs, the last not of course quite the thing, but pardonableunder the circumstances. Then, and not until then, she might have beensomewhat unconventional.

  "Girls," exclaimed the maiden, "even if she has been a little indiscreetin the past, a grand, superb woman such as she ought not to be judged byordinary standards."

  "Besides, the King is old enough to be her father," said another. "Idon't believe there is anything in these stories."

  "It would be a pity to offend the dear old King," said the third.

  And so it was settled. Mrs. Carey accepted their invitation. She came,saw, and conquered. Her charms were sufficient to deafen all but a fewof the _jeunesse doree_ to the unsavory rumors still in circulation,notwithstanding the denial of their truth by the maiden and herassociates. This trio took to themselves the credit of having overcomethe squeamishness of society, and as a reward for their perspicuity theyconsidered themselves entitled to intimacy with their idol. Veryspeedily, as may be imagined, the clever woman took advantage of theseproffers of friendship. Before a fortnight had elapsed she had drawntears from her three auditors by a narration of the story of her life."How sad! how pathetic! how you must have suffered!" they exclaimedtogether, and Eleanor Carey, weeping with them, murmured in theintervals of her sobs, "It is almost worth suffering to have suchfriends as you."

  The dear old King! In the early days of his exile there had been much toflatter the pride of the deposed sovereign. On his first appearance atthe theatre the orchestra had played "God Save the King," and a buzz ofsympathetic interest spread through the audience. He had risen andbowed. For the next few days the Old Province House was beset withcallers. The fashion and intelligence of the city paid their respects toroyalty in misfortune. The Princess Henrietta, the King's only child, astout, hearty-looking girl of eighteen, without beauty, made her _debut_into society under these auspices. The first year, despite the change intheir circumstances, had been passed happily and with comparativecontent by the exiles.

  But time, in its craving for novelties, does not spare even potentates.King George the Fifth soon ceased to occupy the public attention, exceptin a minor degree. After their curiosity had been satisfied people beganto laugh a little at the ceremonies and liveries of a court whichexisted only by courtesy. When the King went to the theatre the stagebox was no longer at his disposal unless he paid for it, and on theopening night at the opera the claims of the family of ex-SenatorBaggely, of Idaho, were regarded by the manager as superior to his. Hisexchequer, too, was low. He was said to be wholly dependent on whatBugbee allowed him. Rumors began to spread regarding the crown jewels.One of the best known hotel-keepers in the city was said to have amortgage on them. The royal carriage was presently dragged by only onehorse. The other, a magnificent bay gelding, was reported to have thedistemper, a trifling ailment, which would last but a few days. Theanimal did not reappear, however, until a reporter discovered it monthsafter among the blooded stock of a New York banker. So it went from badto worse. Soon the King and his daughter walked upon ordinaryoccasions, and when they did drive made use of the public stable. Agroom in livery on the box beside the driver alone distinguished theequipage. At last one day the King took the Princess Henrietta aside andsaid:

  "My child, we must leave this place. I cannot afford to remain at theOld Province House any longer."

  "What! leave the Old Province House, the residence of the colonialgovernors?" cried the Princess, who had picturesque and sentimentalnotions despite her portly appearance. "It is renouncing the lastprestige of royalty. Oh, I hope your Majesty will not persevere in thisdetermination."

  The King shook his head mournfully. "Our present apartments are tooexpensive. Besides, I have--eh--eh--advantageous proposals from theproprietor of a South End establishment, who desires to improve the toneof his hotel and neighborhood. I think if I accede to them we may beable to have our carriage again."

  "Oh, father, it is better to be poor and preserve our self-respect."

  King George took a pinch of snuff and sighed meditatively. "It will beonly for a little while. My party will soon restore me to the throne ofEngland." He paused, and his voice trembled. He took out hishandkerchief and wiped his watery eyes, which were blinking worse thanusual. "If we do not move, Henrietta, I cannot see how we shall be ableto pay the rent. You know I only have what Bugbee allows me."

  "Oh, my poor father," cried the Princess, and she flung her armslovingly about his neck, "has it come to this? I cannot bear to see youin such distress. Let me earn something for our support. I have beenidle long enough. I could be a good governess, I think, with myknowledge of modern languages. Very possibly, the Waitstill C. Hancockswould engage me to teach their children. They have been very friendly,you know."

  "No, no, Henrietta, I will hear nothing of the kind. What! a Princess ofthe House of Hanover go out to service! This is the final stroke!" Herepulsed her with indignation.

  "But, your Majesty, consider. If I do not do something we shall starve."

  "Not if we accept the terms to which I have alluded," said the King,mysteriously.

  "Do you mean, your Majesty, that you have sold yourself?" asked thePrincess. For an instant a suspicion passed through her mind, which shedismissed straightway. There were those about the court who declared themonarch was a miser and had a fortune hidden away in his strong box.

  "It is merely a case of fair exchange," replied King George, doggedly."The fellow wants to raise the character of his house. He will give melodging in return for my patronage. I do not see anything out of the wayin that."

  "Oh, father! I will not be a party to such a degradation," burst outHenrietta, and she began to cry.

  In the end, however, the royal exodus to the South End took place, and anew era of prosperity dawned upon the House of Hanover. By hisarrangement with his new landlord, the King was enabled to keep up amore imposing state. He bought fresh liveries for his retainers andrefitted his carriage. There was a report that he had made money in agrain corner. His anxious expression wore away, and he gained flesh.The public took little interest in him, to be sure; but amongfashionable people he was a great favorite. The coupes of the richtrundled over the pavements to his retreat at the St. James Hotel. TheCourt of St. James, it was called, with an obvious but happy pertinency.The King passed his day at the whist-table in the swell West End Club.He dined out frequently, and was a familiar figure at largeentertainments. The Honorable Waitstill C. Hancock always treated him athis receptions (which were among the most elegant of their kind) withmarked deference. It must have been very gratifying to the exiledmonarch to note the courtly tone in which his host remarked, "YourMajesty, will you take Mrs. Hancock in to supper?"

  Time passed, and one day the city awoke to hear that the King had goneoff
on a fishing trip to Florida. A splendidly furnished steam yacht,large enough, if needs were, for ocean travel, had come into the harborin the evening, and sailed away the following morning with the royalexile on board. The Princess Henrietta had remained behind. There wererumors in circulation which tended to discredit the truth of the allegeddestination of the yacht. Mariners from the docks declared her to beequipped for fighting. People remembered, too, that the King during thepast few weeks had been seen to handle larger sums of money than was hiswont. He had made purchases of army apparel and several silver-mountedrevolvers.

  A few weeks later the news of the insurrection at Aldershot and itssuppression were flashed over the cable. The King, so the subsequentdespatches said, was supposed to be concealed in London, and a largereward had been offered for his apprehension. The good people of Bostonwere somewhat surprised, therefore, one morning to hear that theincoming steamer from England had a royal freight. When the King wasasked what luck he had had in fishing, he blinked his watery eyes andanswered, mysteriously, "You will know presently." This was his reply tothe friends who met him as he walked down the plank of the vessel. Amoment after all eyes were directed to the beautiful woman who emergedfrom the cabin and entered the carriage with the ex-sovereign. All doubtof her identity was removed when the Court Circular of the followingmorning announced the arrival of Mrs. Oswald Carey. Apartments had beenengaged for her contiguous to those occupied by his Majesty.

  One evening, about four weeks subsequent to the return of the royalparty, the King was disturbed by the entrance of the Princess Henriettainto his _cabinet de travail_. He was engaged in footing up his gainsand losses at whist during the week, and the interruption caused him toglower slightly at his daughter. But she was far too excited to observehis manner.

  "Father," she said abruptly, "I can endure it no longer."

  "Endure what, your Royal Highness?"

  "The presence of that woman. Either she must leave the court or I will."The eyes of the Princess flashed angrily.

  "I am at a loss as to your meaning, Henrietta. Do you refer to the LadyMuriel Howard?"

  "You know that I do not. There can be only one to whom such language isapplicable. Mrs. Carey is not a proper person to remain at court."

  The King scratched his chin thoughtfully. "What has she done?"

  "Done, father? Is not her reputation in the past evil enough todisqualify her for the society of your daughter?"

  "You have been misinformed, Princess. Mrs. Carey is a long-suffering andmuch-abused woman. I do not speak at random. I know her intimately."

  "So I am given to understand," replied the daughter, with bitterness."Lady Constance Percy inquired this morning if her Majesty was well."

  "You do not choose your ladies in waiting with discretion. Mrs. OswaldCarey has a husband whose existence shows at once the absurdity of yourdisagreeable and unfilial suspicion. I have no purpose, Henrietta, totake another consort." The King wiped his eyes with a gentle melancholy.

  "And you will send her away, will you not, father? I do not wish to bedisrespectful, but I cannot endure her presence."

  "Send who away?"

  "Mrs. Oswald Carey."

  "She amuses me, child. Her great beauty is delightful to gaze at." KingGeorge put a lozenge into his mouth and sighed reflectively. He was avictim to asthma. The east winds of Boston cut him to the bone.

  "Do not compel me, your Majesty, to be more explicit. I repeat, eitherthis woman or I must leave your court."

  The late ruler of England wrung his hands. "I see you are resolved todrive me to distraction. This is the final stroke. My daughter wishes todesert me. Lear," he added, piteously, "was only a touch to me. You areGoneril and Regan combined in one."

  He scowled angrily at her. Just then the door was opened, and agentleman of the bedchamber announced that dinner was served.

  "Is the court in waiting?"

  "Yes, your Majesty."

  "This is my birthday," observed the King, moodily.

  "So it is," cried Henrietta; "how remiss of me not to have spoken ofit."

  But her father paid no attention to her words. He was fumbling in hispocket. "How many will there be at table?" he inquired of the equerry.

  "Fourteen, Sire."

  "Humph! Lady Constance Percy and Lady Rosamond Temple do not drinkchampagne. Neither does Paran Paget. Lord Gladstone Churchill swore offyesterday." He spoke as if soliloquizing, and went through a process ofcalculation on the fingers of one hand. He handed a key to his retainer.

  "Tell the Lord Chamberlain to have two quarts and one pint," he said."And Lady Muriel Howard is on no consideration to have more than asingle glass. Come, Henrietta."

  Dinner was always served for the royal party in the main dining-hall ofthe hotel. The large table in the middle of the room was reserved forthem. First appeared the master of the household bearing the wand ofoffice. The King came next, followed by the Princess and her three Maidsof Honor, Lady Constance Percy, Lady Rosamond Temple, and Lady MurielHoward, all alike duennas of a certain age. The first named were sober,prim-looking persons, but Lady Muriel Howard, who wore low-neck,corkscrew curls, and carried an enormous fan, ogled the variousoccupants of the dining-room through her eyeglass as she advanced. Theremainder of the retinue included the Duke of Wellington, an oldnobleman of threescore and ten, and a half-dozen lesser peers, nearlyall of whom were on the shady side of sixty. Lord Gladstone Churchill,Paran Paget, and Sir Humphry Davy, who were always in attendance on theperson of the sovereign, were the only youthful spirits. It was theformer of these who had furnished the romantic story of Mrs. Carey'searly life to the society lady. As the royal party walked to their tablea few guests of the hotel rose and remained standing until the King hadsignified by a glance that all should be seated.

  The royal bill of fare was distinct from the _table d'hote._ Theproprietor of the house allowed under his contract with the King acertain sum daily for the cuisine. The King was entitled to saveanything he could on that amount. To-day there was a boiled dinner.Boiled chickens at one end of the table and boiled corned beef at theother followed the soup.

  "How good an _entree_ would taste," whispered Lord Cecil Manners to theEarl of Kildare, casting a glance at a neighboring table, where a_vol-au-vent_ of sweetbreads was being passed by the servant.

  "What was that you said, Lord Cecil?" asked the King, sharply.

  "I was calling his lordship's attention to the champagne glasses,"answered the peer, with a silly giggle.

  "It is my birthday," explained the King. "You shall drink my healthlater on in the repast."

  There was a flutter of congratulation around the table.

  "How indecorous of me not to have remembered," said the Duke ofWellington, with old-fashioned courtesy.

  "Many happy returns of the day," said Lady Muriel Howard, and shewhisked her handkerchief coquettishly at her sovereign.

  King George presided at one end of the table, and the Princess Henriettaat the other. The nobility were seated according to their rank. LadyMuriel Howard being the eldest daughter of the Duke of Norfolk, thefirst peer of the realm, sat on the King's right, and the Duke ofWellington in the seat of honor by the Princess. Midway down the tablewas a vacant chair, and it was noticed that the King glanced frequentlywith an air of impatience toward the door in the intervals of thecarving. He preferred to carve the dinner himself. Two servants waitedupon the company.

  "His Majesty is out of sorts to day. He has given me only drumsticks,"murmured Lady Muriel to the companion on her other side.

  "Where is Mrs. Oswald Carey?" asked the monarch at last.

  "Here she comes, your Majesty," said Lady Constance Percy, noddingtoward the entrance.

  Mrs. Carey, in a superb black velvet costume, cut square in front, witha Maltese cross of brilliants resting upon her bosom, swept grandlyacross the dining hall. She held a small bunch of flowers in her hand.The head waiter of the hotel, bowing almost to the ground, waved hertoward the royal table. Everybody in the ro
om paused to gaze at thesuperb beauty. The master of the household drew back her chair, but shedid not stop until she reached the King.

  "Sire," she said, with a profound courtesy, "pardon my tardiness, andaccept, if you will, these roses in commemoration of your birthday."

  The King looked delighted. "Yes, it is my birthday," he answered. "I wasafraid you would come too late for the champagne."

  Mrs. Carey was about to retire to her seat when the King exclaimed,"Lady Muriel, if it's all the same, I'll get you to change seats withMrs. Carey. Am I not your sovereign?" he inquired, noticing the glumlooks of the outraged maid of honor.

  All through the rest of the meal Mrs. Carey and the King whisperedtogether. "I have taken a great liberty," said she at last.

  "And what is that? The only liberty that I should object to your takingwould be taking yourself away."

  "I have invited a party of friends to your drawing-room to-night. I hadpromised a sweet girl, who seems to have taken an interest in me, tochaperone a theatre party, and she is going to bring her guests hereinstead. Does this inconvenience your Majesty?"

  "Nothing that you could do would inconvenience me," and he gurgled as hedrank his champagne.

  "She plays her cards well, _n'est-ce pas_," said Lady Muriel to her newneighbor, Lord Gladstone Churchill.

  King George caught her saturnine expression. He turned to the master ofthe household at his elbow. "Did I not order that Lady Muriel Howardshould have only one glass of wine?"

  "She insisted on more, your Majesty," groaned the major-domo.

  "Am I not King?" said the monarch, and he pounded on the table so thatthe glasses rang.

  This incident attracted every one's attention. Conversation flagged, andpresently the Princess gave the signal for rising from the table. Theladies went out in advance, each turning as she left her seat and makinga low courtesy to the King. Mrs. Carey was the last in the procession.As she passed through the door, her glance fell full on a man standing alittle to one side, and gazing at her intently. She faltered, but onlyfor an instant.

  "Why, Mr. Jawkins, when did you arrive? Welcome to court," she cried ina cordial, conciliatory tone, holding out her hand.

  Jawkins bowed stiffly, not seeming to see Mrs. Carey's hand. "Yes, I amcome," he answered, "but small thanks to you, madam."

  Dissimulation was not one of Jawkins's accomplishments.

  "This is no place for a scene," she said, in a low tone. "If you wish aninterview with me there will be an opportunity later. The drawing-roombegins at ten. You will see me there." She smiled and showed her teethravishingly, despite the serious purport of her words.

  "It is the King I wish to see, Mrs. Carey, not you," Jawkins repliedsignificantly.

  "Ah, indeed?" said the beauty, and she followed the Princess up thestaircase.

  The rest of the royal party remained only a few minutes in thedining-room. The King enjoyed a stroll through the corridor afterdinner. He liked to chat with the habitues of the hotel and watch thebilliard-players. To-night the Duke of Wellington and young Paget werein special attendance.

  The King stepped up to the cigar counter. "Something mild and not tooexpensive," said he.

  The attendant indicated several brands for his selection.

  "Three for a quarter?" asked the ex-ruler, as he picked up threeten-cent cigars.

  The man nodded, and the King, having presented a cigar to each of hiscompanions, lit his own. His eye presently fell upon a pile of trunks,all of the latest and most improved manufacture, and marked with theletters "J. J." "A new arrival, I see," he said to a denizen of thehotel who knew everybody, and who derived pleasure from the prestige ofconversing with royalty.

  "Yes, your Majesty. A--a--a subject of yours, if I mistake not. He signshimself 'Jarley Jawkins, London.' Will your Majesty honor me with alight?"

  "Jarley Jawkins!" cried the King. "It must be the individual caterer ofwhose wealth we have heard so much. His attentions to my friends duringthe interregnum deserve recognition. Several of them have been savedfrom absolute want by his generosity."

  "That is the gentleman," whispered the other, indicating Jawkins, whowas smoking in apparent unconsciousness and watching a game of pool. "Isaw him just now talking with the famous beauty, Mrs. Oswald Carey."

  "With Mrs. Carey?" exclaimed the King. "I have never heard her speak ofhim." The incident disturbed him little. He was too much absorbed by theidea of Jawkins's wealth. He hoped to be able to borrow some money fromhim. He turned to Paget and charged him to see that Jawkins was invitedto the drawing-room that evening.

  Meanwhile Mrs. Carey had retired to her own chamber, which she waspacing in some perturbation of spirit. The presence of Jawkins was averitable spectre at the feast. The expression of his face haunted her.She felt certain that he meant mischief. What was it he purposed to do?He had asked to see the King. Probably he had discovered that it was shewho betrayed the conspiracy to the government, and was determined torevenge himself by exposing her. She smiled at the thought, and thepicture rose before her of the monarch pouring out protestations of loveat her feet on the night when that band of gallant gentlemen were layingdown their lives at Aldershot to restore his throne. If this was allthat Jawkins had wherewith to prejudice her with the King, she need notfear the astute manager. But she could not feel wholly free from dread.She was aware that Jarley Jawkins was not a man to be trifled with.

  She went down to the parlor where the royal reception was to be held, soas to be in time to receive her own guests. It was early, and no one hadyet arrived. The windows were open in order to cool the atmosphere. Thefloor had been covered with white linen drugget. At one end of the room,on a dais, stood a throne. A grand piano was in a corner. A coloredwaiter put his head inside the door, and, announcing that the musicianshad arrived, inquired if they were to tune up at once.

  "You must see the Lord Chamberlain," answered Mrs. Carey. She felt sadthis evening, and the tawdry character of this entertainment wascontrasted in her mind with the traditions of drawing-rooms atBuckingham Palace.

  A cornet-player, a fiddler, and a female pianist entered, and the squeakof their instruments in process of reconstruction soon jarred upon hernerves. She started to leave the room, but encountered the PrincessHenrietta and her maids of honor at the door, who each regarded herwith a haughty look. One or two peers were loitering in the corridorputting on their gloves. At its further end a group of chambermaids wereensconced to view the arrivals. The musicians struck up "RuleBritannia," and Mrs. Carey, looking back, saw that the ladies had seatedthemselves. The reception was about to begin. She joined the others, andthe nobility speedily arrived. Before many minutes the King appeared,attended by the Lord Chamberlain, a fuzzy little man in red stockingsand pumps, and mounted the throne.

  "God save George the Fifth, King of Great Britain and Ireland, Emperorof India, Sultan of Egypt, and Defender of the Faith," cried the LordChamberlain, and the drawing-room began. It was the Chamberlain's dutyto present to the sovereign each person who had never been at courtbefore. Invitations had been sent to all Englishmen in the city and tocertain carefully selected Americans. The guests began to arriverapidly, and in half an hour the apartment was filled. All the Englishpeople wore regular court costume, but the strangers were permitted, asa special favor, to appear in ordinary evening dress. The duty ofintroducing the Americans devolved upon the proprietor of the hotel.

  Mrs. Carey kept on the lookout for her friends. About 10.30 and aninstant, among the names announced, she heard "Mr. Abraham Windsor, MissWindsor." It was as if she had received an electric shock. She hadneglected to inquire who were to compose the party. For an instant shewas too surprised to think, then she looked and saw the King talkingwith evident admiration to her pretty rival. Her hate returned, and withit the wound of her despised love bled afresh. Stepping forward, shesaid in her most congratulatory tones, "How charming! we meet again,Miss Windsor, but under different circumstances." There was a suppressedtriumph in her tone. The young girl had
to take the proffered hand, butit was plain enough to Mrs. Carey that if Maggie had known whom she wasto encounter at court the meeting would never have taken place. Theireyes met, and in those of the American there was scorn and pride. "Howdo you do, Mrs. Carey," was all she said.

  Her father came to Maggie's rescue. "Why, Mrs. Carey, your mostobedient! This is like old times," and he proceeded to monopolize thebeauty.

  "Isn't she entrancing!" whispered the aesthetic maiden, Mrs. Carey'sfriend, in Miss Windsor's ear.

  "I have met her before," she said, quietly.

  "Have you! Oh, in England, of course."

  But Maggie did not heed her words. The noise of voices at the doorattracted her attention. The crowd was giving way before the wand of theLord Chamberlain, and it was evident from the commotion that somethingunusual was about to take place. She looked and saw two men advance witheager step and fall on bended knee at the foot of the throne amid a buzzof excitement.

  "My Sovereign and my King," they cried together.

  "Rise, Duke, rise," said George the Fifth, wiping with genuine emotionhis watery eyes, and he stepped down to clasp the hands of an old manwith a bald head, whom Maggie recognized to be the Duke of Bayswater.

  "Rise, Featherstone, rise," said the King to the other.

  "Most Gracious Sovereign, I kiss your hand." Featherstone it was, and hepressed his lips against the knuckles of the sometime King; but thewords were spoken coldly, like words of duty. Lost in amazement at thisunusual scene, Miss Windsor had failed to observe a young man followsoberly and even sadly in the footsteps of the other two and standaloof, though expectantly. Her eyes and those of the King must havefallen upon him almost at the same moment. The heart in her bosom leaptwildly. Pale and worn as he was, she recognized Geoffrey Ripon.

  "Lord Brompton!" exclaimed the King, and he grew confused, for the peerdid not kneel as the others had done. "Lord Brompton, I am glad to seeyou," and he remounted the throne.

  "Sire, I have come to bring you a legacy from John Dacre," said Ripon,and he drew from his breast as he spoke a smoke-stained and tatteredpiece of the royal banner and laid it at the foot of the throne. "Thisis from Aldershot, sir."

  A murmur spread through the room, and the color mounted to the King'sface. "Sirrah, I do not understand you. I am your King."

  "As for myself," said Geoffrey, without regarding the monarch's frown,"I return this, which my ancestor more than a century ago firstunsheathed in fealty to the House of Hanover." He took from its scabbardthe sword with which Maggie had girded him that day when he courted herin the haunted chamber of Ripon House, and snapped the blade in twain.He flung the pieces on the ground and turned to leave the room. At thefirst step he encountered the glance of the woman he loved bent upon himwith an expression in which pride and tenderness were strangelyintermingled. He bowed low to her, and was gone.