Karellie was still on the harbour-side when a group of horsemen rode up, wearing the French royal livery. The leader stopped a soldier and asked a question, and after a few more exchanges the soldier indicated Karellie, who had been putting off going aboard until the last possible moment. He had no great love of sailing. The messenger rode towards Karellie and saluted, and then recognized him.
‘Marechal le Comte,' he said with a bow, 'I beg your pardon for disturbing you, but I have here a message from the King to the King of England, and I cannot discover where he lies. I beg you will help me, my lord, for it is a matter of great urgency.'
‘His Christian Majesty is now on board,' Karellie said, ‘and as he is ill, I doubt whether he will want to be disturbed. But if you say it is urgent, I will take you there.’
Karellie led the way to the Mars, still tied up, but ready to be cast off. Her gangways were up, and since the messenger did not care to leave his horse in the confusion of embarking soldiers, Karellie agreed to carry the letter to the King and was taken up on a chair for the purpose. The King was in bed in his cabin, and when Karellie was admitted, he found the tiny room crowded with senior officers.
‘I apologize for disturbing you, Your Majesty, but a letter has arrived from Versailles which the messenger insisted was most urgent.'
‘Thank you, my lord Earl,' the King said, holding out his hand, 'but I must beg you to remember that I am to be known as the Chevalier St George. I do not wish to be called King until I set foot in Scotland.’
Karellie bowed assent, and the King unrolled the letter and read it. A strange expression came over his face, and when he came to the end of the letter he looked round the officers assembled before him with an expression of wry amusement. 'It is from the King of France, who now wishes to cancel the whole expedition, for various reasons. But, gentlemen, I think you will all agree that this letter arrived too late. So unfortunate, but it did not arrive until after we had sailed, and so I had no opportunity to comply with His Catholic Majesty's wishes.' A murmur of laughter went round the group, and Berwick caught Karellie's eye over the heads of the others and gave a small nod of approval. The King, always gracious, dismissed Karellie. ‘Thank you for your trouble, my lord Earl. Perhaps you would like to return to your ship now? I am sorry that you had a wasted journey.’
Karellie bowed and departed, and shortly afterwards the fleet sailed.
A month later what remained of the fleet struggled back against the contrary winds into Dunkirk, battered, seasick, weary and despondent. They had never been able to land in Scotland at all. The English fleet had known only too well what they were doing; contrary winds had delayed them three days at Ostend, and by the time they arrived at the Firth of Forth, there was a squadron of English warships waiting for them. They anchored by the Bass Rock off North Berwick and made the signals they were supposed to bring out the Jacobite army on shore to secure their landing, but no one came, and at daybreak they had to sail away or be trapped by the warships.
They had lost three ships and eight hundred men, and had achieved nothing. Word was passed around that Louis had never meant the expedition to succeed and had given Forbin orders not to allow James to land in Scotland, whatever happened. Karellie formed part of the escort that accompanied the King back to St Germain, where he was greeted with tears by his mother and sister, who had given all their meagre resources, including all their jewellery, to help finance the expedition.
‘I have never known the Princess to complain before,' Aliena told Karellie privately, 'but she cried last night andsaid that they would have to live in such poverty from now on that even if the King were ever to be restored to the throne, they would none of them know how to behave like people of rank.' She looked keenly at Karellie. 'Is it true what they are saying, that King Louis meant the matter to fail?'
‘I don't know,' Karellie said. It seemed likely, but even if it were true, what use was there in saying it? 'I don't know. We have all lost a great deal, not just in terms of money.'
‘Yes, Karellie, I know,' Aliena said gently. 'The Princess Anne has named everyone in the expedition guilty of treason. Now you can never go home.’
Karellie almost laughed at that. 'I am no worse off than I was before on that count,' he said.
‘I wonder how it will affect our mother,' Aliena said. 'I hope she will be all right.’
Karellie did not want to think about that. He hesitated, and then said, ‘Aliena, why don't you go to Venice, and stay with Maurice? I could take you there myself, before I return to duty. You would be happy there, I'm sure, and you would at least have your family around you.’
Aliena looked at him curiously. She had known for a long time that Karellie did not feel entirely at ease in her company, and was touched that he should concern himself for her welfare. 'I thank you, brother, but I could not go,' she said. 'My place is with the King and my Princess. I cannot leave them, especially not now.’
It was only a short while later that the King came upon them, where they had retreated into a corner of the old nursery in order to be private. He stopped short when he saw them, and said, 'I'm sorry - I did not mean to - I did not know you were here.'
‘You cannot think that we mind being interrupted by you,' Aliena said, smiling.
‘Privacy is hard to come by in a palace,' the King said. ‘I am sorry if I have intruded upon yours. But now that I find you together, perhaps I might speak to you. I have been wondering -' He hesitated, looking from one to the other, and Karellie prompted him gently.
‘Yes, sir?'
‘My lord Earl, do you think there would be a place for me in the army of the King of France? I feel so despondent and restless here. I cannot bear to remain idle, especially after - it is much on my mind you see, and there is nothing to distract me.'
‘I am sure His Majesty would be delighted, sir,' Karellie said. The King was looking at Aliena now.
‘I know what you're thinking - that I should not desert my mother and sister at such a time. But what use can I be to them? I cannot cheer them, being so sad myself. And my presence is a burden on the pension which supports them. Is it not best that I do something to support myself and keep myself cheerful?’
He seemed really anxious to have her opinion, and when Aliena answered it was without formality, as equal to equal, and Karellie realized that there was more to the relationship between his sister and the King than he could readily understand.
‘You have decided already, and so I will give you the answer you want,' she said. 'Yes, it would be better for you to be busy, provided that you do not neglect your work of state on that account. You know that your mother and sister will miss you sadly, but you know also that their lives can and will proceed without you without much alteration.’
The King looked relieved, and smiled at Aliena with thanks. 'Then I shall ask King Louis at once. I am sure it for the best that I gain some military experience before I try again to regain my throne. After all, when the Scots come out in arms, I shall have to lead them in battle against my opponents, and it would be a poor thing if I had no knowledge of soldiering, and had to rely on others for experience.'
‘You are in the right, sir,' Karellie said. 'The campaign in Flanders this year will give you all the experience you need, if the past is any guide.’
The King beamed at him. 'I do not forget, my lord Earl, who was your grandfather. I look to you to give me the benefit of your advice and guidance when we serve together in the cavalry.’
Karellie bowed. 'I shall be honoured to help you, sir, if I can.' Inwardly he smiled, for the Chevalier St George was no different from any other nobly-born young man thirsting for glory and longing to exchange the scented inactivity of the drawing-room for the excitement of battle, whatever excuses he gave tongue to.
The King left them, and only then did he notice the sadness in Aliena's eyes, and realized what a difference it would make to the women of the royal family if the King left them. He renewed his offer to escort her to Ven
ice, saying, Now that the King will not be at St Germain, you will have no reason to stay.'
‘More reason than ever,' she replied. 'I cannot leave my Princess now.’
*
In the summer of 1708, Father Cole asked for, and was granted, permission to absent himself for a period of two months in order to visit his sister, who was ill. This, at least, was the excuse given, and though Davey had sincere doubts as to its truth, he at least was glad of the priest's absence, since it gave him something direct to do, in taking over temporary charge of Jemmy. He had not been entirely happy since returning to Morland Place with Matt, for when Matt said he did not know what he wanted Davey to be, he was only speaking the truth. Davey had led a somewhat confusing existence ever since, hovering uneasily somewhere between the servants and the family, and no one seemed to know how to treat him or whether it was possible to give him orders or not. He did odd things, where he saw they were needed, rubbed down Star or brushed or mended Matt's clothes, or ran errands, or wrote letters, or gently removed troublesome petitioners from his master's path. He thought sometimes that he was like the squire of a medieval knight. If they had gone to battle together, he would have been Matt's armour-bearer, he would have been Bedivere to Matt's Arthur. Matt, unworldly as ever, did not notice that Davey felt at all awkward about his place, and treated him as a friend rather than a servant, thanking him whenever he did anything for him, and consulting his opinion over matters both of family and national politics.
When the Countess came back to Shawes in the spring, Davey found a friend in Chloris. Shawes was well on the way to being finished - enough, at any rate, was done for the Countess to take up residence there - and the Countess made a precipitous move in March and seemed to dive into Shawes like a fox into its hole, not venturing out for some weeks. The reason became apparent when the news broke of the abortive invasion, and when, in April, Queen Anne outlawed all who had helped in it, Shawes positively quivered in its attempts to avoid notice, and the shades were not even drawn back for some days. But further details of the outlawing revealed that Chelmsford's name was not on the list, and Shawes sighed with relief and opened its doors again.
And then it was that Davey met Chloris, and in the course of several conversations she revealed to him that she had once been in something of a similar situation to his.
‘The old master, Ralph, used to say that I was her ladyship's clown,' Chloris said. 'When I first came to her, I was employed as wet-nurse to her babies, but that was never all I was, though no one but the old master ever had a name for me. Now I suppose I'd be called her waiting-woman, but that's less than the truth, as the other was.'
‘At least you had an official place to begin with,' Davey said. 'I think it's harder for me.'
‘In some ways, yes,' Chloris said, 'but you are more nearly on a footing with your master than I ever was with my mistress. If he wants to call you friend, why can't you be generous enough to accept it?'
‘Because - you know it is impossible,' Davey said, outraged that she should criticize him so lightly. She looked at him shrewdly.
‘Ah yes, I know it, and you know it, but he doesn't. Let him think that's what you are, and let your heart dictate what he wants done. And never mind any other titles.’
So Davey looked for what needed doing, and did it, and tried not to feel out of place. But when the priest went away, and the nursery maids complained that Jemmy was too much for them to handle, Davey stepped quietly in, with a sense of relief, to take care of the young heir to Morland Place. Jemmy was seven, dressed now in a much-frilled miniature version of the clothes of a gentleman of fashion, complete with muff and periwig, and even thus hampered managed to get into a great deal of mischief. Robert, who was not yet six, was fat and fair and placid, and though he was also out of petticoats, he was no trouble to the maids, and liked most of all to trot about hand in hand with Flora and be told stories of the fairies and spirits who lived thereabouts. Edmund and George were still in frocks and the province of nurses, while Thomas, who was a little over a year old, was still sharing the wet-nurse with his new brother Charles, born in February.
Man was only too pleased to have his friend look after his firstborn, and when Jemmy was brought before him, he bid the boy sternly to respect and obey his new tutor in everything.
‘He has an excellent mind, Jemmy, and you would do well to learn from him as much as possible,' Matt said. Jemmy looked up at him solemnly, and then looked towards Davey as if wondering if his father could possibly be right about such an undistinguished person. Despite his blond periwig and his ruffled sky-blue coat, Jemmy was the image of his father and grandfather, his natural hair soft and dark and curly, his high-cheekboned face handsome and sensitive, with the long mouth and vivid dark blue eyes that made them so striking.
When the child had gone, Davey said to Matt, 'There's just one thing - if I am to have him for the summer months, may I do something about his clothes?'
‘His clothes?' Matt said vaguely. Davey was hesitant. ‘You see, I'd like to get him out of doors, away from the servants and the nursery, for everyone's sake. Remember how you used to like to run wild with me, in just shirt and breeches? Remember how much we learned about life that way? I'd like to take the boy riding, and walking, and swimming, and give him his lessons sitting on the top of a hill in the fresh air. And we can't do those things when he's dressed up like a - like a -'
‘Peacock?' Matt offered, smiling wryly. 'Yes, all right, I know you cannot say so without being rude. Frankly, it is his mother's humour to dress him so elaborately. She says he must look like a gentleman before he can learn to act like one. She may be right. But perhaps, just for this summer, you might have your way. I shall be from home a good deal, Davey, so you will have to manage without my support.'
‘I'll keep out of the way,' Davey grinned, 'and have him properly dressed for dinner, so she'll hardly notice.' Jemmy was not at first entirely convinced that the change was for the better, for he had liked the consequence of strutting about in adult clothes, even though they were hot and uncomfortable, and the wig a positive penance. The servants all admired him tremendously, and he was a godlike figure to Rob and Edmund. He treated Davey, who did not even look like a gentleman, with some disdain at first, but after a few days, when he had discovered the delights of running about the fields and immersing his hot dusty body in a cold stream, he began to listen to Davey more attentively.
Davey found Jemmy's mind active, and not yet entirely spoilt, though he had already learnt the trick of ignoring everything but what would produce a good effect with theleast effort, in order to impress Mama and Papa. But Davey would not be impressed, and soon he found Jemmy's mind agape for sustenance like a fledgling bird.
In the course of their long rambles and conversations, most topics were touched upon, and when architecture had its turn, it was natural for Davey to promise to take Jemmy over to see Grandmama at Shawes. As Vanbrugh had promised the Countess, Shawes was a palace in miniature. Faced with the old stone from the original house, it seemed to grow peacefully from its foundations, an elegant rectangular building of two stories, with servants' quarters in the attics. It was built around the central great hall, a magnificent feature which rose through two stories, its groined cove ceiling supported on massive fluted pilasters, set against the walls, and the whole lit from above by the glazed lights in the great dome. The massive door in the front, north face, opposed the door to the terrace on the south face, and a transverse passage ran straight through the house from east to west on both levels, offering magnificent vistas through decorated arches from one end of the house to the other.
As at Morland Place, the great staircase was housed in a separate hall to the west of the great hall: a grand cantilevered staircase of three flights, made all of oak, strengthened within with iron. The treads were parquetried, and the balustrade was of delicate wrought iron, and on the two half-landings were panels of raised plaster mouldings, shewing the heraldic achievement of Ballinc
rea and Chelmsford.
A short, curved wing on either side of the main block on the south side led, to the west, to the bathing house, set in formal gardens, and to the east, to the service wing and the stables beyond. From the terrace on the south side the gardens would run down to the stream, which was to be widened and dammed and generally made worthy of the house, but at present all this was still in the minds of the Countess and Henry Wise, for nothing had yet been done about it. There remained much to be done indoors as well - the plaster mouldings, the carving - Gibbons had agreed to oversee this - the trompe l'oeil paintings in the wall-panels - but these things were details. The grand plan was clear and evident.
Even Jemmy was suitably awed by the grandeur of the house, and by the stateliness of the hostess. Annunciata, just then brimming with relief that Karellie was safe, was in a mood to take notice of her eldest great-grandson. Jemmy's social manners were at least perfect, and he shewed to his best advantage when he was making the correct obeisances and speeches to the noble lady. She condescended to shew the child around the house, and then called for her horse and accompanied them on a sedate ride around the perimeters, describing, mostly for Davey's benefit, what it would look like one day. Here Jemmy spoilt his previously clean slate.
‘But when your ladyship dies, who will it all belong to then?' he asked, and Davey fancied there was a gleam of his mother in his eye. The Countess looked at him coldly, and Davey attempted mediation.
‘Master James, I think, wondered whether with so much to do, your ladyship would see the completed plan.' This was hardly better. He blundered on, 'My lord of Marlborough, I heard, asked Master Wise to plant none but full-grown trees at Blenheim, because he would not live to see saplings grow to maturity.’
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