“He must be below,” cried Amabel “But he could not aid us at this juncture; we must depend upon ourselves.”
Descending a short staircase, they entered Amabel’s chamber, and fastening the door, awaited with breathless anxiety the arrival of the horsemen. Though the room whither they had retreated was in the upper part of the house, they could distinctly hear what was going on below, and shortly afterwards the sound of footsteps on the stairs, blended with merry voices and loud laughter — amid which, Amabel could distinguish the tones of the Earl of Rochester — reached them.
While both were palpitating with fright, the handle of the door was tried, and a voice announced that the apprentice was without.
“All is lost!” he cried, speaking through the keyhole; “the king is here, and is accompanied by the Earl of Rochester and other profligates.”
“The king!” exclaimed Amabel, joyfully; “then I am no longer apprehensive.”
“As yet, no inquiries have been made after you,” continued Leonard, unconscious of the effect produced by his intelligence, “but it is evident they know you are here. Be prepared, therefore.”
“I am prepared,” rejoined Amabel. And as she spoke, she threw open the door and admitted Leonard. “Do not stay with us,” she added to him. “In case of need, I will throw myself on his majesty’s protection.”
“It will avail you little,” rejoined Leonard, distrustfully.
“I do not think so,” said Amabel, confidently. “I have faith in his acknowledged kindness of heart.”
“Perhaps you are right,” returned Leonard. “Mrs. Buscot is at present with his majesty in the receiving-room. Will you not make fast your door?”
“No,” replied Amabel, firmly; “if the king will not defend me, I will defend myself.”
Leonard glanced at her with admiration, but he said nothing.
“Is Sir Paul Parravicin here?” asked Nizza Macascree, with great anxiety.
“I have not seen him,” replied Leonard; “and I have carefully examined the countenances of all the king’s attendants.”
“Heaven be praised!” exclaimed Nizza.
At this juncture, Mrs. Buscot entered the room. Her looks bespoke great agitation, and she trembled violently.
“You have no doubt heard from Leonard that the king and his courtiers are below,” she said. “His majesty inquired whether you were here, and I did not dare to deceive him. He desires to see you, and has sent me for you. What is to be done?” she added, with a look of distraction. “I suppose you must obey.”
“There is no alternative,” replied Amabel; “I will obey his majesty’s commands as soon as I can collect myself. Take back that answer, dear aunt.”
“Has Leonard told you that the Earl of Rochester is here?” pursued Mrs.
Buscot.
Amabel replied in the affirmative.
“God grant that good may come of it!” cried Mrs. Buscot, clasping her hands together, as she quitted the room; “but I am sorely afraid.”
A half-suppressed groan from the apprentice told that he shared in her apprehensions.
“Leave us, Leonard,” said Amabel; “I would prepare myself for the interview.”
The apprentice obeyed, and closing the door after him, stationed himself at the foot of the staircase. Left alone with Nizza, Amabel threw herself on her knees, and besought the support of Heaven on this trying occasion. She then arose, and giving her hand to Nizza, they went down stairs together. Leonard followed them at a little distance, and with a beating heart. Two gentlemen-ushers were posted, at the door of the chamber occupied by the king. Not far from them stood Mrs. Buscot, who, having made known her niece to the officials, they instantly admitted her, but ordered Nizza to remain outside.
On entering the room, Amabel at once discovered the king. He was habited in a magnificent riding-dress and was seated on a rich fauteuil, around which were grouped a dozen gaily-attired courtiers. Amongst these were the Earl of Rochester and Sir George Etherege. As Amabel advanced, glances of insolent curiosity were directed towards her, and Rochester, stepping forward, offered to lead her to the king. She, however, declined the attention. Greatly mortified, the earl would have seized her hand; but there was so much dignity in her deportment, so much coldness in her looks, that in spite of his effrontery, he felt abashed. Charles smiled at his favourite’s rebuff, but, in common with the others, he could not help being struck by Amabel’s extraordinary beauty and natural dignity, and he observed, in an under-tone, to Etherege, “Is it possible this can be a grocer’s daughter?”
“She passes for such, my liege,” replied Etherege, with a smile. “But I cannot swear to her parentage.”
“Since I have seen her, I do not wonder at Rochester’s extravagant passion,” rejoined the monarch. “But, odds fish! she seems to care little for him.”
Having approached within a short distance of the king, Amabel would have prostrated herself before him, but he prevented her.
“Nay, do not kneel, sweetheart,” he said, “I am fully satisfied of your loyalty, and never exact homage from one of your sex, but, on the contrary, am ever ready to pay it. I have heard much of your attractions, and, what is seldom the case in such matters, find they have not been overrated. The brightest of our court beauties cannot compare with you.”
“A moment ago, the fair Amabel might be said to lack bloom,” observed Etherege; “but your majesty’s praises have called a glowing colour to her cheek.”
“Would you deign to grant me a moment’s hearing, my liege?” said Amabel, looking steadfastly at the king.
“Not a moment’s hearing merely, sweetheart,” returned Charles; “but an hour’s, if you list. I could dwell on the music of your tones for ever.”
“I thank your majesty for your condescension,” she replied; “but I will not long trespass on your patience. What I have to say concerns the Earl of Rochester.”
“Stand forward, my lord,” said Charles to the earl, “and let us hear what complaint is to be made against you.”
Rochester advanced, and threw a passionate and half-reproachful glance at Amabel.
“It may be improper for me to trouble your majesty on so light a matter,” said Amabel; “but your kindness emboldens me to speak unreservedly. You may be aware that this nobleman once entertained, or feigned to entertain, an ardent attachment to me.”
“I need scarcely assure you, my liege,” interposed Rochester, “that it was no feigned passion. And it is needless to add, that however ardently I felt towards my fair accuser then, my passion has in nowise abated.”
“I should wonder if it had,” rejoined Charles, gallantly. “I will not contradict you, my lord,” said Amabel; “it is possible you may have loved me, though I find it difficult to reconcile your professions of regard with your conduct — but this is not to the purpose. Whether you loved me or not, I loved you — deeply and devotedly. There is no sacrifice I would not have made for him,” she continued, turning to the king, “and influenced by these feelings, and deluded by false promises, I forgot my duty, and was rash enough to quit my home with him.”
“All this I have heard, sweetheart,” replied Charles. “There is nothing very remarkable in it. It is the ordinary course of such affairs. I am happy to be the means of restoring your lover to you, and, in fact, came hither for that very purpose.”
“You mistake me, my liege,” replied Amabel. “I do not desire to have him restored to me. Fortunately for myself, I have succeeded in mastering my love for him. The struggle has well-nigh cost me my life — but I have conquered.”
“I have yet to learn, sweetheart,” observed Charles, with an incredulous look, “that woman’s love, if deeply fixed, can be subdued.”
“If I had not been supported by religion, my liege, I could not have subdued it,” rejoined Amabel “Night and day, I have passed in supplicating the Great Power that implanted this fatal passion in my breast, and, at length, my prayers have prevailed.”
“Aha! we have
a devotee here!” thought Charles. “Am I to understand, fair saint, that you would reject the earl, if he were to offer you his hand?” he asked.
“Unquestionably,” replied Amabel, firmly.
“This is strange,” muttered Charles. “The girl is evidently in earnest.
What says your lordship?” he added to Rochester.
“That she shall be mine, whether she loves me or not,” replied the earl.
“My pride is piqued to the conquest.”
“No wonder! — the resistless Rochester flouted by a grocer’s daughter. Ha! ha!” observed Charles, laughing, while the rest of the courtiers joined in his merriment.
“Oh! sire,” exclaimed Amabel, throwing herself at the king’s feet, and bursting into tears, “do not abandon me, I beseech you. I cannot requite the earl’s attachment — and shall die if he continues his pursuit. Command him — oh! command him to desist.”
“I fear you have not dealt fairly with me, sweetheart,” said the king. “There is a well-favoured youth without, whom the earl pointed out as your father’s apprentice. Have you transferred your affections to him?”
“Your majesty has solved the enigma,” observed Rochester, bitterly.
“You wrong me, my lord,” replied Amabel. “Leonard Holt is without. Let him be brought into the royal presence and interrogated; and if he will affirm that I have given him the slightest encouragement by look or word, or even state that he himself indulges a hope of holding a place in my regards, I will admit there is some foundation for the charge. I pray your majesty to send for him.”
“It is needless,” replied Charles, coldly. “I do not doubt your assertion. But you will do the earl an injustice as well as yourself, if you do not allow him a fair hearing.”
“If you will allow me five minutes alone with you, Amabel, or will take a single turn with me on the terrace, I will engage to remove every doubt,” insinuated Rochester.
“You would fail to do so, my lord,” replied Amabel. “The time is gone by when those accents, once so winning in my ear, can move me.”
“At least give me the opportunity,” implored the earl.
“No,” replied Amabel, decidedly, “I will never willingly meet you more; for though I am firm in my purpose, I do not think it right to expose myself to temptation. And now that I have put your majesty in full possession of my sentiments,” she added to the king; “now that I have told you with what bitter tears I have striven to wash out my error, — I implore you to extend your protecting hand towards me, and to save me from further persecution on the part of the earl.”
“I shall remain at this place to-night,” returned Charles. “Take till to-morrow to consider of it, and if you continue in the same mind, your request shall be granted.”
“At least, enjoin the earl to leave me unmolested till then,” cried
Amabel.
“Hum!” exclaimed the king, exchanging a look with Rochester.
“For pity, sire, do not hesitate,” cried Amabel, in a tone of such agony that the good-natured monarch could not resist it.
“Well, well,” he rejoined; “it shall be as you desire. Rochester, you have heard our promise, and will act in conformity with it.”
The earl bowed carelessly.
“Nay, nay, my lord,” pursued Charles, authoritatively, “my commands shall be obeyed, and if you purpose otherwise, I will place you under restraint.”
“Your majesty’s wishes are sufficient restraint,” rejoined Rochester; “I am all obedience.”
“It is well,” replied Charles. “Are you satisfied, fair damsel?”
“Perfectly,” replied Amabel. And making a profound and grateful reverence to the king, she retired.
Nizza Macascree met her at the door, and it was fortunate she did so, or
Amabel, whose strength began to fail her, would otherwise have fallen.
While she was thus engaged, Charles caught sight of the piper’s
daughter, and being greatly struck by her beauty, inquired her name.
“Odds fish!” he exclaimed, when informed of it by Rochester, “a piper’s daughter! She is far more beautiful than your mistress.”
“If I procure her for your majesty, will you withdraw your interdiction from me?” rejoined the earl.
“No — no — that is impossible, after the pledge I have given,” replied Charles. “But you must bring this lovely creature to me anon. I am enchanted with her, and do not regret this long ride, since it has brought her under my notice.”
“Your majesty’s wishes shall be obeyed,” said Rochester. “I will not wait till to-morrow for an interview with Amabel,” he added to himself.
Supported by Nizza Macascree and her aunt, and followed by Leonard, Amabel contrived to reach her own chamber, and as soon as she was sufficiently recovered from the agitation she had experienced, detailed to them all that had passed in her interview with the king. While the party were consulting together as to the course to be pursued in this emergency, the tap of a wand was heard at the door, and the summons being answered by Mrs. Buscot, she found one of the ushers without, who informed her it was the king’s pleasure that no one should leave the house till the following day, without his permission.
“To insure obedience to his orders,” continued the usher, “his majesty requires that the keys of the stables be delivered to the keeping of his chief page, Mr. Chiffinch, who has orders, together with myself, to keep watch during the night.”
So saying, he bowed and retired, while Mrs. Buscot returned with this new and alarming piece of intelligence to the others.
“Why should the mandate be respected?” cried Leonard, indignantly. “We have committed no crime, and ought not to be detained prisoners. Trust to me, and I will find some means of eluding their vigilance. If you will remain here to-morrow,” he added to Amabel, “you are lost.”
“Do not expect any rational advice from me, my dear niece,” observed
Mrs. Buscot, “for I am fairly bewildered.”
“Shall I not forfeit the king’s protection by disobeying his injunctions?” replied Amabel. “I am safer here than if I were to seek a new asylum, which would be speedily discovered.”
“Heaven grant you may not have cause to repent your decision!” cried
Leonard, despondingly.
“I must now, perforce, quit you, my dear niece,” said Mrs. Buscot, “though it breaks my heart to do so. His majesty’s arrival has thrown everything into confusion, and if I do not look after the supper, which is commanded at an early hour, it will never be ready. As it is, there will be nothing fit to set before him. What with my distress about you, and my anxiety about the royal repast, I am well-nigh beside myself.”
With this, she quitted the room, and Amabel signifying to Leonard that she desired to be left alone with Nizza Macascree, he departed at the same time.
As Mrs. Buscot had stated, the utmost confusion prevailed below. The royal purveyor and cook, who formed part of the king’s suite, were busily employed in the kitchen, and though they had the whole household at their command, they made rather slow progress at first, owing to the want of materials. In a short time, however, this difficulty was remedied. Ducks were slaughtered by the dozen; fowls by the score, and a couple of fat geese shared the same fate. The store ponds were visited for fish by John Lutcombe; and as the country abounded with game, a large supply of pheasants, partridges, and rabbits was speedily procured by the keeper and his assistants. Amongst others, Blaize lent a helping-hand in this devastation of the poultry-yard, and he had just returned to the kitchen, and commenced plucking one of the geese, when he was aroused by a slap on the shoulder, and looking up, beheld Pillichody.
“What ho! my little Blaize, my physic-taking porter,” cried the bully; “how wags the world with you? And how is my pretty Patience? How is that peerless kitchen-maiden? By the god of love! I am dying to behold her again.”
“Patience is well enough, for aught I know,” replied Blaize, in a surly tone.
“But it is useless for you to think of her. She is betrothed to me.”
“I know it,” replied Pillichody; “but do not suppose you are the sole master of her affections. The little charmer has too good taste for that. ‘Blaize,’ said she to me, ‘will do very well for a husband, but he cannot expect me to continue faithful to him.’”
“Cannot I?” exclaimed the porter reddening. “Fiends take her! but I do!
When did she say this?”
“When I last visited your master’s house,” replied Pillichody. “Sweet soul! I shall never forget her tender looks, nor the kisses she allowed me to snatch from her honeyed lips when your back was turned. The very recollection of them is enchanting.”
“Zounds and fury!” cried Blaize, transported with rage. “If I am only a porter, while you pretend to be a major, I will let you see I am the better man of the two.” And taking the goose by the neck, he swung it round his head like a flail, and began to batter Pillichody about the face with it.
“S’death!” cried the bully, endeavouring to draw his sword, “if you do not instantly desist, I will treat you like that accursed bird — cut your throat, pluck, stuff, roast, and eat you afterwards.” He was, however, so confounded by the attack, that he could offer no resistance, and in retreating, caught his foot against the leg of a table, and fell backwards on the floor. Being now completely at the porter’s mercy, and seeing that the latter was preparing to pursue his advantage with a rolling-pin which he had snatched from the dresser, he besought him piteously to spare him.
“Recant all you have said,” cried Blaize, brandishing the rolling-pin over him. “Confess that you have calumniated Patience. Confess that she rejected your advances, if you ever dared to make any to her. Confess that she is a model of purity and constancy. Confess all this, villain, or I will break every bone in your body.”
“I do confess it,” replied Pillichody, abjectly. “She is all you describe. She never allowed me greater freedom than a squeeze of the hand.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 261