The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “I am aware of it, Count,” replied Prince Charles.

  “But your Highness may not be aware that the poor fellow is without,” pursued the Ambassador. “Will it please you to allow him to be brought in?”

  The Prince assented, on which De Gondomar signed to Luke Hatton, who seemed waiting for the order, and, disappearing for a moment, returned with the apprentice.

  Though evidently prepared for the scene that awaited him, and not overburthened with modesty, Dick Taverner could not help exhibiting considerable confusion; but the sight of his mistress somewhat restored him, and he pressed towards her. Sir Francis, however, stepped between them, exclaiming— “Get hence, base varlet — she is my wife.”

  “No such thing!” cried Gillian— “the ceremony has only been half performed. I am not married. I am yours — and yours only, dear, sweet Dickon.”

  “You never shall be his — you are mine—” exclaimed the old usurer— “I implore his Highness the Prince to let the marriage go forward.”

  “Nay, I shall not allow any compulsion to be placed on the damsel’s inclinations,” replied Charles, unable to repress a smile. “She must choose for herself.”

  “In that case, your Highness, my choice is soon made,” replied Gillian, taking her lover’s hand.

  “And honest Dickon need not be under any alarm at such part of the marriage as has already taken place,” observed De Gondomar. “It has been a mock ceremonial throughout. This is no priest, but one of my Lord of Buckingham’s grooms employed for the occasion.”

  “Then I have been a dupe all this time!” cried Sir Francis furiously. “O, purblind dolt that I am!”

  But he met with no commiseration from the assemblage, who only laughed at his rage and absurd grimaces.

  “Kneel and thank his Highness for his goodness,” said De Gondomar to the young couple; “and then, if he will give you leave to do so, depart at once. Stay not a moment longer than you can help it in this house, or in the neighbourhood.”

  “Most assuredly I will not, your Excellency,” returned Dick. “It is much too near the Fleet to be agreeable to me. I have to offer my heartfelt thanks to your Excellency for your kindly consideration of me, and I own that I have scarcely deserved it at your hands.”

  “Render your thanks, as I have said, to his Highness, who is alone entitled to them, good fellow,” said the Ambassador. “Take Gillian home to her grandsire — and wed her as soon as you can. She will need no dowry,” he added in a low tone— “for she is already provided with thirty thousand marks.”

  “Honestly come by, I hope, your Excellency?” inquired Dick.

  “Ay, ay — thou suspicious blockhead. Do as I have bidden thee, and get hence. More remains to be done to which thou art a hindrance.”

  On this, the young couple prostrated themselves before Prince Charles, who graciously gave his hand to Gillian to kiss, and then motioning them to rise, they were allowed to quit the room.

  Luke Hatton saw them safe out of the house, and very well it was he accompanied them, for they had many obstacles to encounter. Before quitting them, the apothecary delivered up the silver casket to Dick, bidding him take good care of it, as it contained his intended wife’s dowry.

  Meanwhile, Sir Giles Mompesson, who had with difficulty controlled his impatience during the incidents previously described, advanced towards Prince Charles, and with a profound reverence, said— “Will it please your Highness to terminate this idle scene, which, though apparently amusing to the company assembled, is by no means so entertaining to Sir Francis and myself?”

  “You shall have your wish, Sir,” rejoined Charles in a stern tone and with a freezing look, that seemed of ill augury to the extortioner— “It is my intention to terminate the scene. Stand forth, Clement Lanyere and let me hear what you have to declare in reference to this man.”

  Hereupon, the promoter, consigning Aveline to the care of a gentleman who advanced towards her for the purpose, and respectfully took her hand, stepped forward, and, removing his mask, confronted his enemy.

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  Accusations.

  By this time a very different complexion had been imparted to the scene. The interruption of the marriage ceremony, and the perplexities of the old usurer, tricked out of his intended bride, and bereft even of her substitute, had afforded abundant amusement to the company, who, so far from feeling pity for the sufferer, seemed vastly to enjoy his mortification and disappointment. But all laughter died away, and every tongue became suddenly mute, as Prince Charles, assuming the severe look and dignified deportment of a judge, commanded Clement Lanyere to stand forward, and prefer the charges he had to make against Sir Giles Mompesson.

  All eyes were fixed upon the extortioner and his accuser; and though etiquette prevented the company from advancing too near the royal seat, a dense semicircle was formed in front of it, in the midst of which stood the two principal actors in the drama about to take place, together with the discomfited Sir Francis Mitchell.

  Sir Giles Mompesson was not without great misgivings. He saw that his case was already prejudged by the Prince; and the glance of inquiry with which he had consulted his patron, the Marquis of Buckingham, and which was answered by a cold, menacing regard, convinced him that little support was to be expected in that quarter. Nevertheless, though he felt himself in considerable jeopardy, he allowed no look or gesture indicative of uneasiness to escape him; and the courage that had borne him through many a trial still remained unshaken. Not so Sir Francis Mitchell. He also perceived the perilous position in which he and his partner were placed, and his abject manner showed how thoroughly he was daunted. Look wherever he would, he found no sympathy: every one derided his distress.

  But far more than the two extortioners did their accuser command attention. As he cast off his mask and displayed his appalling features, a thrill of surprise and horror pervaded such of the assemblage as had never seen them before. But the feeling was speedily lost in wonder. Drawing himself up to his full height, so that his lofty figure towered above those with whom he was confronted, he seemed to dart lightning glances against them. Even Sir Giles could not bear his scathing looks, and would have shielded himself from them if he could. Though fearful to behold, Lanyere’s countenance had a terrible purpose impressed upon it which none could mistake. The effect produced by his appearance upon the spectators was shared even by Prince Charles, and a few minutes elapsed before the silence was broken. At length, the Prince again spoke: —

  “I sit here,” he said, “as the representative of the Majesty of England — clothed with the authority of my royal father, and prepared to exercise it, as he would do were he present in person. But though this seat is erected into a tribunal before which accusations against wrong-doers can be brought, and sentence upon them pronounced; still, whatever charges are now made, and against whomsoever they may be preferred, those charges will have to be repeated to the Lords of the Council of the Star-Chamber, before whom the accused will be taken; and any judgment now given will have to be confirmed by that high and honourable Court. Of late, the course of justice has been too often baffled and turned aside by the craft and subtlety of certain powerful and audacious offenders. Hence it has been the wish of the King’s Highness, in order that the laws may no longer be broken with impunity, that certain preliminary inquiries and investigations should be made on the spot itself, where it is alleged that the crimes and misdemeanours have been committed; and, according to the evidence afforded, such measures as may be deemed fitting taken against the wrong-doers. All present have witnessed this mock ceremonial, and have laughed at its conclusion, but mirth will be changed to indignation, when it is known that the intended marriage was the result of a vile conspiracy on the part of Sir Giles Mompesson and Sir Francis Mitchell, against a young, virtuous, and unprotected maiden, whose beauty had inflamed the breast of the elder, and it might have been expected from that circumstance, the wiser of the two. Into the details of their infamous scheme, it wi
ll not be necessary now to enter; and it may suffice to say, that the devoted attachment of the damsel to another was wholly disregarded, while the basest means were employed to induce her consent to a match so abhorrent to her feelings, as must have been that with Sir Francis. Failing in this, however, the two conspirators went yet further. They forcibly carried off the maiden from her own dwelling, and detained her against her will within this house, till by their arts they imagined they had gained their point — and that a love-potion would accomplish all for them, that their persuasions and fair promises were unable to effect. But the damsel was guarded from all ill by an unseen friend — and the weapons of the conspirators were turned against themselves. You have witnessed how they have been duped, and, as no mischief has resulted from this infamous endeavour, the mortification they have endured may be taken as part punishment of the offence. Stand forward, fair Mistress Aveline Calveley, and substantiate what I have just declared.”

  Thus adjured, the maiden approached within a few paces of the Prince, and having made a lowly salutation, said, —

  “All that your Highness has advanced concerning me is correct.”

  “Enough, fair mistress,” rejoined Charles. “How say you, Sirs,” he continued, in a stern tone, to the two extortioners. “Do you confess your guilt, and sue for pardon? If so, down on your knees before this injured damsel, and implore her forgiveness!”

  A prey to violent terror, the old usurer instantly adopted the supplicatory posture recommended by the Prince; but Sir Giles refused compliance.

  “Having committed no offence, I sue for no pardon,” he said, with his wonted audacity. “I repel the charge with indignation; and, in my turn, accuse Clement Lanyere and Luke Hatton of a conspiracy against me. This damsel is but their tool, as I will show, if your Highness will deign to give ear to me.”

  “It were mere waste of time to listen to idle fabrications,” replied Charles. “The evidence against you is complete, and my opinion upon it is formed. But what saith the maiden herself? Is she willing that any grace be shown her persecutors?”

  “The redress I have already obtained at the hands of your Highness is amply sufficient,” replied Aveline. “Great as has been the misery these two persons have occasioned me, and grievously as they have sought to injure me, I seek no further satisfaction; but would implore your Highness to pardon them. Their own thoughts will be punishment enough.”

  “Amply sufficient — for nothing can be more bitter,” cried the old usurer, while a scornful smile curled Sir Giles’s lips.

  “Spoken as I expected you would speak, fair maiden,” said Charles; “and, were there nothing else against them, I might listen to your kindly intercessions. But other and darker disclosures have to be made; and when you have heard all, even your compassionate breast may be steeled against them. Retire for a moment; but do not leave the room. Your presence may yet be needed.”

  And bowing graciously to Aveline, she withdrew under the care of the gentleman who had brought her forward, but still remained a spectatress of the scene.

  “And now to proceed with the investigation,” pursued Charles. “What have you to allege against the two persons before you?” he added, to Clement Lanyere.

  “Were I to relate all their enormities, most gracious Prince,” replied the promoter, “the recital would be too painful for your hearing, and that of this noble assemblage. But I will, in a word, declare that there is no kind of outrage, oppression, and extortion of which they have not been guilty. Their insatiable greediness has been fed by constant plunder; and, alike cruel and rapacious, nothing but the ruin and absolute destruction of their victims would content them. Merciless as creditors, they have ground their unfortunate debtors to the dust. The tears of the widow they have robbed of her husband and her means of existence — the despair of the orphan, whose fair prospects they have blighted — have failed to move them. Utterly unscrupulous as to the means of obtaining possession of property, they have forged wills, deeds, and other documents. Their ingenuity has been taxed to devise new means of unjust gain; and, imposing upon the King’s Majesty by false representations, they have succeeded in obtaining his letters patent for certain monopolies, which they have so shamefully abused, as to bring his sovereign authority into discredit.”

  “Hold!” cried Sir Giles Mompesson. “To the first — vague and general accusations brought against me and my co-patentee, by this branded traitor, who, having been publicly punished for falsehood and libel, cannot be received as a witness, I have deigned no answer, conceiving such accusations cannot be for a moment entertained by you, most gracious Prince. But to this specific charge, I give a flat denial; and demand proof of it. I appeal to the most noble Marquis of Buckingham, through whose interest Sir Francis Mitchell and myself obtained those patents for the licences of inspection of inns and hostelries, as well as for the manufacture of gold and silver lace, whether he has ever heard aught to our disparagement in our conduct of them?”

  “Do not appeal to me, Sir,” replied Buckingham, coldly.

  “Sir Giles has demanded proof of my charge, and I am prepared to produce it,” said Lanyere. “As to the vagueness of my accusations, your Highness will judge of that when the full catalogue of the offences of these two extortioners, with the damnatory proofs of them, shall be laid before you. This memorial, signed by nearly the whole of the sufferers from their exactions, perpetrated by means of the monopolies, will satisfy your Highness of the truth of my statement — but I have also a witness to call.”

  “A witness! — here!” muttered Sir Giles, uneasily. “This must be a deeply-concerted scheme.”

  “Before you bring forward any one,” said Charles, addressing Lanyere, “Sir Giles must be set right on one point in which he is in error. Your credibility is not to be disputed, and I accept your testimony against him.”

  “Your Highness!” cried the extortioner.

  “Peace, Sir! you shall be heard anon,” said Charles. “Produce your witness,” he added to Lanyere.

  At a sign from the promoter, Luke Hatton, who was standing near the doorway, stepped behind the tapestry, and almost immediately reappearing with Madame Bonaventure, led her towards the Prince, before whom she prostrated herself.

  “Arise, Madame,” said Charles, graciously. “Your features are not unfamiliar to me. Methinks you are the hostess of the French ordinary at the tavern of the Three Cranes, in the Vintry.”

  “Tour Highness is in the right — I am Madame Bonaventure, at your Highness’s service,” replied the hostess, enchanted at this recognition on the part of the Prince. “My lord of Buckingham, I am well persuaded, will condescend to speak to the merits and respectability of my establishment.”

  “In sooth will I, good hostess,” replied the Marquis. “I can give your Bordeaux my heartiest commendation. ’Tis the best in London.”

  “Nay, I can speak to it myself — and to the good order of the house too; having visited the tavern incognito,” remarked the Prince, smiling.

  “Is it possible!” exclaimed Madame Bonaventure, rapturously. “Have I been so greatly honoured? Mon Dieu! — and not to be aware of it!”

  “I must remind you of the cause of your appearance here, Madame Bonaventure,” said Lanyere.

  “You are required to depose before his Highness as to the exactions you suffered from Sir Giles and his partner.”

  “His Highness shall hear all from me,” rejoined the hostess. “I should have been reduced to beggary had I submitted to their extortionate usage. I bore it as long as I could, but when absolute ruin stared me in the face, I had recourse to a noble friend who helped me in my extremity and delivered me by a, stratagem.”

  “It was a fraudulent scheme,” cried Sir Giles;— “a fraud upon his Majesty, as well as upon those who enjoyed the privileges conferred by his letters patent.”

  “That I can contradict, Sir,” said Buckingham, “since I myself was present on the occasion, and stated in the hearing of the large company then assembled, —
several of whom are now before us, — that his Majesty relinquished all share of the ruinous fine of three thousand marks imposed by you and your co-patentee upon this good woman.”

  “And I trust you added, my Lord, that the King’s Highness would never knowingly consent to have his exchequer enriched by such shameful means,” said Charles, with a look of indignation. “These monopolies were not granted by his Majesty for the wrongful profit of their holders; and, since they have been turned to such iniquitous use, I will take upon me to declare that they shall all be suppressed. Do you attempt to deny,” he continued to Sir Giles, “that this outrageous fine was imposed?”

  “It were useless to deny it,” replied the extortioner, with a malicious look at Buckingham; “but the noble Marquis has not always disapproved so strongly of my proceedings. Nay, I can show that he himself has been secretly a party to like transactions.”

  “Ah, villain!” exclaimed Buckingham,— “do you venture to calumniate your protector? I shall leave you to the fate you so richly merit. Your foul and false assertions cannot affect me; but they are not likely to improve your case with his Highness, who, though aware of its impotency, will perceive the extent of your malice. If you dared, I doubt not you would likewise assert that his Majesty himself was cognisant of your frauds and oppressions, and approved them.”

  “I do assert, and will maintain it — ay, and prove it, too — that the King’s Highness was aware how these monopolies were managed, and derived a considerable revenue from them,” said Sir Giles.

  “You hear him, Prince,” remarked Buckingham, with a disdainful smile.

  “I would not have believed in such matchless effrontery had I not witnessed it,” replied Charles. “You may retire, Madame,” he added to the hostess, who, with a profound reverence, withdrew. “Have you aught further to declare, or any other witnesses to produce?” he continued to Lanyere.

  “I have both, your Highness,” replied the promoter.