Shrewsbury: A Romance

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XXXII

  With the least inclination towards merriment I must have laughed atthe face of horror with which Mr. Martin, when he went a few minuteslater, to expel the last stragglers, came on me where I stood, tryingto efface myself behind the door. He dared not speak, for the Duke wasstanding at the table a few paces from him; and I would not budge.Fortunately I remembered that a still tongue was all he need wish; andI laid my finger on my lips and nodded to him. This a littleencouraged him, but not much; and in his fear of what I might, inspite of my promise, let out, if I were left alone with his master, hewas still in two minds whether he should eject me or not, when theDuke spoke.

  "Is Price there?" he said with his face averted, and his hands stillbusy with the papers. "The man I sent for."

  "Yes, your Grace," Martin answered, making hideous faces at me.

  "Then leave us. Shut the door."

  If my lord had spoken the moment that was done and we were alone, Ithink it would have relieved me. But he continued to search among thepapers on the table, and left me to sink under the weight of thestately room with its ordered rows of books, its ticking dial, and themute busts of the great dead. The Duke's cloak lay across a chair, hisembroidered star glittering on the breast; his sword and despatch-boxwere on another chair; and a thing that I took to be the signetgleamed among the papers on the table. From the lofty mantel-piece ofveined marble that, supported by huge rampant dogs, towered high aboveme (the work as I learned afterwards of the great Inigo Jones), theportrait of a man in armour, with a warden in his mailed hand, frowneddown on me, and the stillness continuing unbroken, and all the thingsI saw speaking to me gravely and weightily, of a world hithertounknown to me--a world wherein the foot exchanged the thick pile ofcarpets for the sounding tread of Parian, and orders were obeyedunspoken, and sable-vested servants went to and fro at a sign--a worldof old traditions, old observances, and old customs revolving roundthis man still young, I felt my spirits sink--the distance was sogreat from the sphere I had known hitherto. Every moment the silencegrew more oppressive, the ticking of the clock more monotonous; it wasan immense relief when the Duke suddenly spoke, and addressing me inhis ordinary tone, "You can write?" said he.

  "Yes, your Grace."

  "Then sit here," he replied, indicating a seat at the end of thetable, "and write what I shall tell you."

  And before I could marvel at the ease of the transition, I was seated,quietly writing; what I can no longer remember, for it was the firstonly of many hundred papers, of private and public importance, which Iwas privileged to write for his signature. My hand shook, and it isunlikely that I exhibited much of the natural capacity for such workwhich it has been my lot to manifest since; nevertheless, his Graceafter glancing over it, was pleased to express his satisfaction. "Youlearned to do this with Brome?" said he.

  "Yes, your Grace."

  "Then how," he continued, seating himself--I had risenrespectfully--"Tell me what happened to you yesterday."

  I had no choice but to obey, but before I told my story, seeing thathe was in a good humour and so favourably inclined to me, I spoke outwhat was in my mind; and in the most moving terms possible I conjuredhim to promise me that I should not be forced to be an evidence. Iwould tell him all, I would be faithful and true to him, and asknothing better than to be his servant--but be an informer in court Idared not.

  "You dare not?" he said, with an odd look at me. "And why not, man?"

  But all I could answer was, "I dare not!"

  "Are you afraid of these villains?" he continued, impatiently. "I tellyou, we have them: it is they who have to fear!"

  But I still clung to my point. I would tell, but I would give noevidence; I dared not.

  "I am afraid, Mr. Price," he said at that, and with an air of somecontempt, "that you are something of a coward!"

  I answered, grovelling before him, that it might be--it might be;but----

  "But--who of us is not?" he answered, with a sudden gesture betweenscorn and self-reproof. "Do you mean that, man?" And he fixed his eyeson me. "Well, it is true. Who of us is not?" he repeated, slowly; andturning from me, he began to pace the room, his hands clasped behindhim; so that before he had made a single turn it was easy to see thathe had forgotten my presence. "Who of us is not afraid--if not ofthese scoundrels, still of the future, of the return, of Jacobus_iracundus et ingens_, of another 29th of May? To be safe now and tobe safe then--who is not thinking of that and living for that, andplanning for that?"

  AND TURNING FROM ME, HE BEGAN TO PACE THE ROOM, HISHANDS CLASPED BEHIND HIM]

  He was silent a moment, then with something of anger in his voice, "MyLord Marlborough, dipped to the lips in '88, who shall say that forall that he has not made his peace? And has good reason to urge us tolet sleeping dogs lie? And Godolphin, is it only at Newmarket he hashedged--that he says, the less we go into this the better? AndSunderland who trusts no one and whom no one trusts? And Leeds--allthings for power? And Clarendon, once pardoned? And Russell, alltemper? Who knows what pledges they have given, or may give?Devonshire--Devonshire only has to lose, and stands to lose with me.With me!"

  As he spoke thus he seemed to be so human, and through the robe ofstate and stateliness in which he lived the beating of the poor humanheart was so plainly visible, that my heart went out to him, and withan eagerness and boldness that now surprise me, I spoke to him.

  "But, your Grace," I said, "while the King lives all goes well, andwere anything to happen to him----"

  "Yes?" said he, staring at me, and no little astonished at theinterruption.

  "There is the Princess Anne. She is here, she would succeed, and----"

  "And my Lord Marlborough!" said he, smiling. "Well, it may be. But whotaught you politics, Mr. Price?"

  "Mr. Brome," said I, abashed. "What I know, your Grace."

  "Ha! I keep forgetting," he answered, gaily, "that I am talking to oneof the makers of opinion--the formers of taste. But there, you shallbe no evidence, I give you my word. So tell me all you know, and whatbefell you yesterday."

  I had no desire but to do so--on those terms, and one small matterexcepted--and not only to do that, but all things that could servehim. Nevertheless, and though I had high hopes of what I might get byhis grace and favour, I was far from understanding that that was thebeginning of twenty years of faithful labour at his side; of a matterof fifteen thousand papers written under his eye; of whole ledgersmade up, of estate accompts balanced and tallies collected; of manywinters and summers spent among his books, either in the placid shadesof Eyford or in the dignified quiet of St. James's Square. But, as Ihave said, though I did not foresee all this, I hoped much, and moreas, my tale proceeding, my lord's generous emotion became evident.When I had done, he said many kind things to me respecting the peril Ihad escaped; and adding to their value by his manner of saying them,and by the charm which no other so perfectly possessed, he left me atlast no resource but to quit the room in tears.

  Treated thus with a kindness as much above my deserts as it wasadmirable in one of his transcendent rank, and assured, moreover, bymy lord's own mouth that henceforth, in gratitude for the service Ihad done him in Ferguson's room, he would provide for me, I shouldhave stood, I ought to have stood, in the seventh heaven of felicity.But as suffering moves unerring on the track of weakness, and no manenjoys at any moment perfect bliss, I had first to learn the fate ofthe girl whose evasion I had contrived. And when a cautious search andquestions as crafty had satisfied me that she had really effected herescape from the house--probably in a man's dress, for one of thelacqueys complained of the loss of a suit of clothes--I had still acare; and a care which gnawed more sharply with every hour of ease andsafety.

  Needless to say, the one matter on which I had been reticent, the oneactor whose presence on the scene I had not disclosed to my lord, layat the bottom of my anxiety. Kind in action and generous in intentionas the Duke had shown himself, his magnanimity had not availed to oustfrom my mind
the terror with which Smith's threats had imbued it; norwhile confessing all else had I been able to bring myself to denouncethe conspirator or detail the terms on which he had set me free.Though I had all the inducement to speak, which the certainty that hisarrest would release me, could present, even this, and the security ofthe haven in which I lay, failed to encourage me to the point ofhazard. So strong was the hold on my fears which this man hadcompassed; and so complete the slavery to which he had reduced mywill.

  But though at the time of confession, I found it a relief to be silentabout him, this same silence presently left me alone to cope with him,and with fears sufficiently poignant, which his memory awakened: theresult being that with prospects more favourable and a future betterassured than I had ever imagined would be mine, or than any man of mycondition had a right to expect, I still found this drop of poison inmy cup. It was not enough that all things--and my patron--favouringme, I sank easily into the position of his privy clerk, that Iretained that excellent room in which I had first been placed, that Ifound myself accepted by the household as a fact--so that never a mansaved from drowning by a strand had a right to praise his fortune as Ihad; nor that, the wind from every quarter, seeming at the same timeto abate, the prisoners went for trial, and nothing said of me, whileFerguson, of whose complicity no legal proof could be found, lay inprison under the suspension of the Habeas Corpus, and kept silence;nor even that a note came from Mary, ostensibly from Dunkirk, andwithout compromising me informed me of her safety. It was not enough,I say, that each and all of these things happened beyond my hopes; forin the midst of my prosperity, whether I stood writing at my lord'selbow in the stillness of the stately library, or moved at easethrough the corridor, greeted with respect by my fellow-servants, andwith civility by all, I was alike haunted by the thought and terror ofSmith, and the knowledge that at any moment, the conspirator mightappear to hurl me from this paradise. The secrecy which I hadmaintained about him doubled his power; even as the ease and luxury inwhich I lived presented in darker and fouler colours the sordid scenesand perils through which I had waded to this eminence.