The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

“I come from Bentley House with my young mistress, and am taking her to Packington Hall,” replied Charles, readily.

  “Why, then, you must be Mistress Jane Lane’s groom,” observed the smith. “The gossip hereabouts is that Sir Clement Fisher is betrothed to her. But I don’t think the marriage will take place just yet.”

  “Wherefore not?” inquired the king.

  “Because Sir Clement has got himself into trouble by his foolish adherence to Charles Stuart. He is sure to be heavily fined, if not imprisoned. Why, you look confounded, young man. Hold up your horse’s foot while I clap on the shoe.”

  Charles complied, and nothing more passed between them until the smith had completed his job, when he remarked:

  “This is a good horse of yours, friend. He would go a long way without tiring.”

  “Yes, I have ridden him a good many miles at a stretch” rejoined Charles.

  “Perchance from Worcester to Bentley House?” remarked the smith, with a knowing look.

  “Not quite so far as that,” replied the king.

  “Nay, I don’t wish to appear inquisitive,” said the smith. “I’ve heard that Colonel Lane was at Worcester, and I thought you might have been there with him.”

  “I am Mistress Jane Lane’s servant, as I have already told you,” said Charles.

  “Mistress Jane was at Worcester as well as her brother, unless I have been misinformed,” rejoined the smith.

  Charles made no answer, but paid for the shoe, and departed.

  “There’s something odd about that young man,” mused the smith, looking after him. “I should like to have questioned him a little more. However, I shan’t forget him or his horse.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER VII.

  HOW THEY WERE RECEIVED AT PACKINGTON HALL.

  Meanwhile, Colonel Lane and his two companions had come up, and when Charles got back to the little inn, he found them seated on the bench beneath the tree. After enjoying half an hour’s good sport, they had sent back the falconers with a few brace of partridges. Colonel Lane filled a cup of sack for the king, who took it with a grateful bow as beseemed the character he represented. Before they set off again, Careless contrived to exchange a few words in private with his majesty.

  On quitting the village, the party entered the extensive and beautiful domains belonging to Packington Hall. The park contained a great deal of fine timber, and several large sheets of water could be descried through the trees, contributing greatly to its beauty. The charm of the prospect was also heightened by the picturesque inequalities of the ground — the uplands being crowned by trees. From all these heights enchanting prospects could be obtained. The old mansion towards which they were riding was frequently lost to view, owing to the intervention of the trees, but reappeared with additional effect.

  The party were within half a mile of the house, which was then in full view, when they were met by Sir Clement Fisher, who had been anxiously expecting their arrival.

  Sir Clement looked somewhat depressed, but gave a warm welcome to his friends, and conducted them to the house.

  With a special view to the king’s convenience, the party alighted in the court-yard, and Sir Clement contrived that his majesty should be relieved from any duties in the stable, and taken at once to the buttery. It was excessively annoying to the loyal young baronet that he could not attend to the king in person — but that was impossible. Even with his other guests great caution was observed — Major Careless’s name was never mentioned, and Lord Wilmot’s real rank was concealed from the servants.

  Dinner was served in the great hall immediately after the arrival of the party. Circumstances seeming to necessitate a slight alteration in the plans, it was now arranged that Colonel Lane, with Lord Wilmot and Careless, should stay where they were, while the others proceeded, as before settled, to Long Marston, in order to pass the night there.

  Before Jane’s departure an interview took place between her and her suitor. They had walked to a retired part of the garden, but for some minutes each remained silent. At length Sir Clement, looking at her earnestly, said, “I know the courage of your nature, Jane, and I will not, therefore, attempt to disguise from you the perilous position in which I am placed. Had all gone well, I hoped to have made you mistress of this house; but now you may never be mine.”

  “Do you say this to try me, Sir Clement?” she exclaimed, turning very pale.

  “Alas, there is no exaggeration in what I am saying to you,” he rejoined. “Before you return I may be a prisoner in Warwick Castle.”

  “If you deem yourself in such great danger, why do you not fly?” she cried.

  “No; I will stand my ground,” he rejoined. “Those who come to arrest me shall find me here. I am prepared to die for the cause I have espoused.”

  “Oh! do not talk thus, dear Sir Clement,” she exclaimed. “You give me credit for far more fortitude than I really possess. Again, I entreat you to fly.”

  “My resolution is taken,” he rejoined firmly, but sadly. “But I wished to acquaint you with it, that you may judge me rightly. Our union may be deferred for years, or it may never take place; but I regard you as my wife.”

  “And if I wed not you, Sir Clement, be sure I will wed no other,” she rejoined. “I will not break my plighted troth. We must bear these heavy trials with resignation, and perhaps we may be the better for them in the end. Our affection will be severely tested, but my feelings will undergo no change.”

  “Nor will mine,” he added, taking her hand, and pressing it affectionately to his lips. “Jane,” he added, in accents that bespoke his sincerity, “you are a noble girl. I always thought you so; but now more than ever. Some men, incapable of estimating your character, might be jealous of the devotion you display to the king, but I have no such feeling. On the contrary, it excites my highest admiration. Nay, I think I should not love you so well, were you less loyal.”

  “Hear, also, the truth from me, Sir Clement,” cried Jane, in a tone of exaltation; “I could but have loved you as I do, had you not been true to the king. That you would approve my conduct I never doubted, because you know my feelings, and can appreciate them; but I have also the approval of my own heart, for I am sure I am acting rightly. This firm conviction will sustain me through any trials that may be reserved for me. I am vowed to one object — the king’s deliverance from his enemies. If I can accomplish it, I shall be content. Devoted loyalty like mine is perfectly compatible with love, for, though I am engrossed by it at present, it does not exclude the deeper feeling. Do you understand me?”

  “Perfectly,” he replied, clasping her to his breast. “You are my own Jane. Go on with your task. You are destined to be the king’s preserver.”

  “I firmly believe so,” cried a well-known voice that somewhat startled them at first, for they had not heard the approach of the speaker. It was the king, who had come to seek Jane, and had overheard the latter part of their discourse.

  “I firmly believe you are destined to be my preserver, Jane,” he said, stepping forward.

  “I am not sorry that your majesty has heard the expression of my opinions,” said Sir Clement. “Jane is free to act as she will, and I have no control over her; but had she been my wife, I should have charged her to act as she is doing.”

  “You will not repent your confidence in her, nor your reliance on me, Sir Clement,” said Charles, with dignity. “All our difficulties will be overcome in time, and then you will have the best wife in England. Nay, be not cast down. ’Tis written that you shall be Jane Lane’s husband. ’Tis written, also, that Jane shall be mistress of Packington Hall; for should you be deprived of it, you shall have the house back again if I come to the throne.”

  “Sire, after your gracious promise to me, I can no longer feel uneasiness,” cried Sir Clement, shaking off the gloom that had hitherto oppressed him.

  “As your groom,” said Charles, bowing to Jane, “I come to inform you that Mr. and Mrs. Petre are already mounted, and waiting for
you in the court-yard. Your own steed is ready.”

  Having delivered this message, he again bowed, and left the lovers together.

  They followed him almost immediately to the court-yard, where the rest of the party were assembled.

  After some consultation with his friends, the king had determined to prosecute that day’s journey without any additional attendance. Careless would fain have gone on to Stratford-on-Avon, but his royal master would not permit him, deeming it safer to proceed in this quiet manner than with an attendance liable to attract attention, and that might cause them to be stopped. It was therefore agreed that Lord Wilmot and Careless should follow their royal master next day. This could easily be done, as they knew the precise route he intended to take. Colonel Lane, not being required, was to remain at Packington Hall.

  A tender parting between the lovers took place at the park-gates, which Charles from his proximity was obliged to witness.

  The party, comprehending the same persons as heretofore, rode on in silence, and Charles fancied he saw tears stealing down Jane’s cheeks; but she chased them away, and soon afterwards recovered her composure, and forced herself to enter into conversation with her sister and Mr. Petre.

  Their road led them through beautiful country, and the contemplation of this charming scenery tended to tranquilise her mind. Sometimes they mounted a gentle hill which gave them an extensive view over wide-spread open fields, through which a river took its course, fertilising the district, and adding greatly to its beauty. Several mansions came within their ken; but the most picturesque feature of the scene was an old castle standing on the banks of the river. The view was so delightful that the party stopped for a few minutes to admire it.

  As a scene that could not be beheld elsewhere than in England, it had a special charm for the king, who gazed at it with undisguised rapture. Chancing to look at him at the moment, Mr. Petre was struck by the singular expression of his countenance.

  “You seem to be greatly pleased by the prospect, Will,” he cried. “Have you never beheld it before?”

  Charles made no reply, and Jane touched his arm to recal him to his senses.

  “Mr. Petre asks if you have ever beheld this view before,” she said.

  The supposed groom begged pardon, and said, “I was looking at yon old castle, and thinking I should like to have it, with a few guns and a dozen artillerymen.”

  “Why, what wouldst thou do with the castle, Will?”

  “Hold it against Cromwell and the rebels,” was the reply.

  “Heaven help thee for a fool, Will!” cried Mr. Petre, laughing. “Thou wouldst fare no better than the king fared at Worcester.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER VIII.

  HOW THEY WERE STOPPED BY THE TROOPERS AT WOOTTON WAWEN.

  Once more the party were in motion, and they now proceeded along a road skirted by high hedges, that for a time shut out the view of the broad well-cultivated meadows on either side. For the most part, the persons they encountered on their way were husbandmen and common folk. Carts were frequently to be seen, and now and then a waggon with its team of strong horses. Occasionally they met a farmer and his wife on a “double horse,” but none of the gentry of the neighbourhood. The latter evidently deemed it prudent to keep at home. Mr. Petre often pulled up to have a word with the husbandmen, and their talk was generally concerning the battle of Worcester. Many sympathised with the king for his misfortunes, and expressed concern at his defeat; but all blamed him for bringing the Scots to England.

  Thus they journeyed on through a rich agricultural district, past farms and homesteads well stocked with cattle, till they came to a woody tract that had once formed part of the forest of Arden, some vestiges of which could yet be discerned. These woodlands offered a pleasant contrast to the richly cultivated district just left behind, and having skirted a park, they reached the picturesque old town of Henley in Arden.

  Here they halted, and while Charles, in his quality of groom, attended to the horses, Jane and the others went to view the old cross which then stood in the market-place. To support his character, Charles thought it necessary to drink a pot of ale with the ostler; and the man’s tongue being loosened by the good liquor, he informed the king that about two hours previously a troop of horse had passed through the town on their way to Stratford-on-Avon.

  “That doesn’t matter to us, friend,” said Charles. “We are on the right side, and belong to the Parliament.”

  “An that be so, you’ll be glad to hear that the malignant prince has been captured,” observed the ostler. “We shall have no further trouble with him.”

  “That’s too good news to be true I fear, friend,” rejoined Charles. “Where did you learn it?”

  “From the troopers I’ve just mentioned. They couldn’t be misinformed. Charles Stuart was caught in a woodcutter’s hut in Brewood Forest. He fought so hard that it took ten men to secure him, and the reward will be divided among ‘em, consequently, they’ll only have a hundred apiece. Well, here’s Old Noll’s health, and hoping he may soon reign over us.”

  “Reign over us?” cried Charles.

  “Ay, reign,” said the ostler. “When he has cut off Charles Stuart’s head he’ll be King of England. He has got the army with him, and can do as he likes.”

  “He aims at the crown, I make no doubt,” said Charles. “But here comes my young mistress. She’ll be greatly surprised to learn that Charles Stuart is taken.”

  Having mounted their horses, the party quitted the little town and took the road to Stratford-on-Avon.

  Mr. Petre was a good deal alarmed on hearing that a troop of soldiers had preceded them, but Jane sought to reassure him by saying that they should be able to pass through the town without being noticed by the men, and he made no more remarks till they drew near Wootton Wawen, a small town about midway between Henley and Stratford. He then discovered that some of the Roundheads must have halted in this little town, as a dozen troopers, at least, were refreshing themselves at the inn. It was impossible to avoid them, except by making a considerable détour, and this the timorous gentleman declared he would do; and after some discussion he actually turned back with his wife, while Jane and the king rode boldly on towards Wootton.

  As they approached the village, two mounted troopers barred the road, and ordered the supposed groom to halt and give an account of himself.

  Before Charles could answer, an officer, fully accoutred, came forth from the inn with the evident intent of interrogating the travellers. But Jane anticipated his design, and holding out a piece of paper, exclaimed:

  “I have a pass for myself and my man from Captain Stone, governor of Stafford. Here it is.”

  The officer took the paper, and glancing at it, said, in a respectful tone:

  “You are the lady herein described, I presume?”

  “I am Jane Lane, of Bentley House,” she rejoined, haughtily. “This is my servant, Will Jones.”

  “Has he been long in your service?” pursued the officer, fixing a keen glance on Charles, who bore his scrutiny well.

  “Not long,” she replied. “He is a tenant of my brother’s.”

  “Whither are you going?” he demanded. “I require a precise answer.”

  “I am going to Long Marston, the residence of my relative, Mr. Tombs, and shall pass the night there,” she rejoined. “Long Marston is four miles beyond Stratford-on-Avon.”

  “I know the house,” rejoined the officer. “Mr. Tombs is a notorious malignant, but your pass is sufficient. You may proceed on your journey.”

  Charles did not neglect the hint, but moved on instantly.

  As soon as they were gone the officer said to the mounted troopers:

  “Follow them, but at such a distance as not to cause alarm. Enter the house where they stop, and examine the groom. I suspect him.”

  The troopers promised strict obedience to the command, and set off cautiously after the travellers.

  * * *

  CHAPTER IX.<
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  HOW THEY ARRIVED AT LONG MARSTON.

  Apart from being the birthplace and the burial-place of Shakspeare, Stratford-on-Avon had a special interest to Charles from the circumstance that it had been the temporary residence of his mother, Queen Henrietta Maria, who, in 1643 — some eight years anterior to the period of our story — entered the old town at the head of a large force, and was subsequently joined there by Prince Rupert. Charles remembered also that Stratford had been the scene of more than one sharp conflict between the Royalists and the rebels, and that an arch of the old stone bridge had been broken down by the latter to prevent the attacks of their opponents. These reflections occurred to the king as he and his fair companion halted within a quarter of a mile of the charming old town.

  Before them, on the opposite bank of the Avon, stood the ancient church, in the vaults of which rest Shakspeare’s hallowed bones. But the bridge was guarded by a party of cavalry drawn up in front of it. Nothing had been seen of Mr. Petre and his wife, since they had gone off in another direction at Wootton, and Jane waited for them for some time before entering Stratford; but as they did not make their appearance she at last agreed to go on without them, and Charles rode on towards the bridge.

  Never in the conflicts that had taken place on that bridge during the Civil War did Cavalier ride up to the enemy with bolder front than the king now displayed. He was sharply examined by the troopers as he advanced, but Jane, again producing her pass, answered the questions of the officer in command so satisfactorily, that they were at once allowed to pass. Moreover, she accomplished the liberation of her brother-in-law and his wife, who had been detained till her arrival.

  All difficulties being thus surmounted the party crossed the bridge — noting that the broken arch had only been partially repaired — and entered the old town in triumph. Under pleasanter circumstances they might have been disposed to halt for a short time at Stratford, and Jane, casting a longing look at the avenue of lime-trees leading to the church, suggested a visit to the beautiful old fabric, but Mr. Petre would not hear of it. Not to excite suspicion they rode at a very deliberate pace through the town, being regarded with some curiosity by the townsfolk, and frowned at by a few troopers collected in the market-place; but as they had passed the ordeal of the bridge it was presumed by those who watched them that they must be well affected towards the Parliament.