“Since your majesty does not object, I feel quite easy,” said the earl. “Where are the visitors?” he added, to his brother.
“I left them on the lawn,” replied Charles. “I told them you had a friend with you — nothing more. Shall I prepare them, my liege?”
“No,” replied the prince. “I will choose my own time for the disclosure.”
“Haste back, then, and say I will be with them anon,” cried the earl.
“And be careful to give them no hint.”
“Your majesty may rely on me,” replied Charles, as he bowed and departed.
“This is our North Country custom,” said the earl. “We visit each other without the slightest ceremony — take friends with us — and stay as long as we please. In coming to me thus, uninvited, and bringing Sir John Webb and his family with him, Tom Forster is only doing what I should not hesitate to do, were I inclined to pay him a visit at Bamborough Castle.”
“I am very glad he has come, for it will give me an opportunity of beholding the fair Dorothy,” said the prince.
“Your majesty will also behold Anna Webb, who, in my opinion, is far more beautiful than the other.”
“Then you have seen her?” cried the prince.
“I saw her only a few days ago at Bamborough, and admired her greatly. She is really very handsome. I think Tom Forster is épris. No doubt Sir John Webb is returning to Dorsetshire with his family, and Tom is escorting them on their journey. I dare say we shall hear of an engagement by-and-bye.”
“If she is as handsome as you describe her, Anna Webb ought not to be a rude fox-hunter’s wife,” said the prince. “But come! let us go and have a look at the two beauties. You have roused my curiosity.”
CHAPTER V
Anna Webb and Dorothy Forster
How well the two beauties looked in their gay riding- dresses of scarlet and blue, trimmed with gold and silver lace, and plumed hats! Slight and graceful in figure, and nearly of an age, Anna Webb was a few months older than Dorothy, but she could not be more than nineteen.
Dorothy had cheeks like a blush-rose, tender blue eyes, and flaxen tresses, with features that could not be called regular, but were, nevertheless, excessively pretty; while Anna’s locks were of a raven hue, her eyes large, black, and lustrous, and fringed with silken lashes, her tint pale, yet clear, and her face classically faultless in outline.
If the palm of beauty could not be assigned to Dorothy, it must be owned that she had a more agreeable expression than Anna, whose short curling upper lip gave her a somewhat disdainful look.
But they were both lovely creatures, and quite enchanted the Chevalier de Saint George, as he first beheld them standing near a marble fountain at the edge of the large, smooth-shaven lawn near the terrace.
Close beside them was Lady Webb — a fine, stately, middle-aged dame, richly dressed in damask, and having a hoop-petticoat, long stiff bodice, and a lofty head-dress. She had a few patches on her face, and a large fan in her hand. Lady Webb had a haughty manner, and did not forget that she came of a noble family.
Sir John Webb, who paid great deference to his lady, was about sixty, and had a marked countenance, dark eyes, and a large aquiline nose. His bearing was soldierlike, which is not to be wondered at, since he had served under James the Second. But there was nothing military in his attire, which consisted of a square-cut, claret-coloured coat, richly embroidered with lace, and laced waistcoat with long flaps, cream-coloured silk stockings, shoes with high red heels, a long neckcloth bordered with Brussels lace, lace ruffles at his wrist, a sword by his side, and a well-powdered periwig on his head, surmounted by a small three-cornered hat. He carried a gold-headed clouded cane in his hand, and occasionally produced a very handsome gold snuff-box.
The Webbs were strict Roman Catholics, and devoted to the house of Stuart. In fact, Sir John had followed the exiled monarch for a short time to Saint Germains.
Tom Forster, who was talking to him, and pointing out the beauties of the place with his riding-whip, looked exactly like what he was — a country squire, who rode hard, lived well, and drank hard.
In age, he could not be more than seven-and-twenty, and would have been considered very good-looking if the hue of his skin had not been somewhat too florid. Decidedly, he was like his sister, if a rather coarse man can be said to resemble a delicate girl. No one had better horses than Tom Forster — not even Lord Derwentwater — no one had better claret, and you might have plenty of it — perhaps, rather too much.
Tom Forster kept a pack of fox-hounds, and hunted regularly; and as he was hospitable, jovial, and good-humoured, he was exceedingly popular. Dorothy constantly rode to hounds, and was greatly admired for courage and skill, for she often gained the brush. But, as we have endeavoured to show, there was nothing masculine about her — nothing that could be objected to in her liveliness. On the contrary, her presence operated as a restraint upon her brother’s guests, and kept them within bounds.
Sir John Webb and his family had been staying for some little time at Bamborough Castle, and had been delighted with the ancient structure, which, whether from its situation on a lofty and almost perpendicular rock, overlooking the Northern Ocean, or from its well-preserved walls and square massive keep, may be justly considered one of the grandest castles in the kingdom. Another opportunity may occur for describing it more fully. Meantime, we may say that Anna Webb, who was of a somewhat romantic turn, had been especially delighted with the place. She remained for hours upon the ramparts gazing upon the sea, there studded with islands, and had even mounted with Dorothy to the summit of the keep, whence Lindisfarne and its ancient churches could be clearly descried. Luckily, no shipwrecks occurred at the time on that dangerous and rock-bound coast, so that she was spared any such dreadful sight, and no half-drowned mariners were brought for shelter to the castle.
Though Bamborough Castle belonged to Mr. Forster, he did not inhabit the ancient structure. His residence, which was comparatively modern, was close at hand. But several of the old towers were furnished, and in one of these Anna and Dorothy were lodged, at the particular desire of the former, who thus escaped the racket of a great house full of company, as well as the attentions of the host, who had fallen in love with her, but whom she could not tolerate. Every day there was a large party at dinner, and at these entertainments Anna was forced to be present, but she was always glad to get back to the quiet old tower.
One day, an important visitor unexpectedly arrived at the castle. This was the Earl of Derwentwater. Dorothy having described him to her, and painted him in glowing colours, she was prepared for a very distinguished-looking personage. But he was far handsomer than she expected, and she was greatly struck by his manner as well as by his personal appearance. To her surprise and mortification, however, he paid her very little attention, and devoted himself exclusively to Dorothy, next to whom he was placed at dinner. That evening there were cards and music in the drawing-room. Lord Derwentwater begged of Dorothy to sing, and she readily complied, and charmed him with a lively ditty. When she had done Tom Forster came up, and made his sister relinquish her place at the harpsichord to Anna.
Piqued by Lord Derwentwater’s indifference, and really possessing a splendid voice, Miss Webb exerted herself to the utmost. Never had she sung or played more brilliantly than on this occasion — never had she looked more lovely: Lord Derwentwater was electrified, and suddenly conscious of her transcendent beauty. Hitherto he had scarcely observed her, but now she riveted his regards. Warmly applauding her performance, he prayed her to repeat it. Instead of doing so, she struck up a little French lay, with which he was familiar, but which he had never before heard sung with such liveliness and spirit.
At Lady Webb’s instance, Anna gave some further proofs of her extraordinary vocal power. Her triumph was complete. She felt sure she had captivated the young earl, who remained by her side during the remainder of the evening. Indeed she fully expected a proposal on the morrow — but when the morrow ca
me, Lord Derwentwater was gone. He had set off at an early hour, long before she and Dorothy came from the tower.
Why had he departed so suddenly? No one could tell. Anna was greatly put out; but she was not half so much disappointed as Lady Webb, who thought her daughter had secured a great prize. Good-natured Dorothy had manifested no resentment at being cut out by her friend. Tom Forster had felt rather jealous, but as he really had received no encouragement from Miss Webb, he could not complain.
The Webbs remained ten days longer at Bamborough Castle, and during this time nothing was heard of Lord Derwentwater.
But Lady Webb was determined not to give him up without another effort. So she told Tom Forster that she should like immensely to see Dilston, and he promised to take them all there, on their return to Dorsetshire.
The plan was carried out, as we have shown. Some on horseback, some in Sir John’s great family coach, encumbered by an immense quantity of luggage, attended by a couple of female servants, the party left Bamborough Castle after an early dinner, supped and slept at Morpeth, and set out next morning for Dilston.
CHAPTER VI
Lady Webb
ANNA WEBB, who rode a capital horse, provided for her from the Bamborough stables, and was accompanied by Tom Forster and his sister, was greatly struck by the view of the castle at the end of the vista formed by the long avenue of chestnut trees; and if we may venture to reveal the secrets of her breast, we must state that she ardently desired to become the mistress of that stately mansion. Nor was this desire lessened when she entered the great quadrangular court and gazed around it.
Certain of a hearty welcome, Tom Forster rode in first, and cracked his hunting-whip loudly, as he passed through the gateway, to summon the servants. Newbiggin and three or four footmen rushed down the perron to meet him. He contented himself with announcing to the butler that he had come to dine with his lordship, and pass the night at the castle, and had brought Miss Forster and Sir John Webb and his family with him, and then jumping from the saddle, gave his horse to one of the servants. To his surprise, Newbiggin looked rather embarrassed.
“What! — not at home?” cried the squire.
“Oh, yes, his lordship is at the castle, but he is engaged on rather particular business,” replied the butler. “Some one is with him.”
“Oh, never mind!” cried the squire. “He’ll get his business done before dinner- time. Mr. Charles Radclyffe will take care of us.”
As he spoke, Dorothy and Anna rode into the court, and immediately afterwards the great lumbering coach followed.
After a moment’s consideration Newbiggin made up his mind to admit them. Aware that Mr. Forster was a Jacobite, and also aware that Sir John Webb was a Roman Catholic and a staunch adherent of the Stuarts, he thought he couldn’t be doing wrong.
Accordingly, he flew to the carriage, and helped its occupants to alight, leaving the young ladies to the care of the grooms, and, by the time he had fulfilled his duties, Charles Radclyffe made his appearance with Father Norman, and welcoming the party with great cordiality in his brother’s name, led them to the garden. Having brought them to the lawn, he left them there with Father Norman, and went in search of the earl.
If Anna had been pleased with what she had seen of the castle, she was quite enraptured now.
Never, she declared to Dorothy, had she beheld anything finer than the prospect from the terrace. What charming scenery! what a lovely park! what brown moors! what woods! And how well the Tyne looked in the distance!
She next praised the romantic beauty of the glen, with its trees, and rushing stream, and, above all, the picturesque old bridge.
In short, everything delighted her. And though she said least about it, she was, perhaps, best pleased with the mansion itself. It was larger and more imposing than she expected, and she again thought what a fine thing it would be to be mistress of such a splendid place.
Lady Webb was just as much struck with the castle and its surroundings as her daughter, and fondly hoped that she might soon have a stronger interest in the place. Her ladyship was conversing with Father Norman, and all she heard about the young earl heightened her desire to call him her son-in-law. Father Norman spoke with the greatest warmth of his lordship’s goodness of heart, noble qualities, and chivalrous character.
“He is like Bayard himself,” he said; “a chevalier without fear and without reproach.”
“With such a splendid mansion as this, and with such wealth as his lordship possesses, ’tis a wonder he does, not marry,” remarked Lady Webb.
“His lordship will never marry except for love,” replied the priest.
“That is perfectly consistent with the noble and disinterested character you have given him,” said Lady Webb. “But I should have thought,” she added, glancing towards Dorothy, “that a very charming young friend of ours might have touched his heart.”
“Apparently not,” replied Father Norman. “I myself should have been well pleased if such had been the case. But I do not think Lord Derwentwater will marry till our rightful king is restored.”
“Then he may have to wait long,” said her ladyship.
At this moment Charles Radclyffe made his appearance.
Seeing him return alone, Lady Webb and her daughter began to have some misgivings, but they were quickly set at rest by Charles, and a few minutes later his lordship himself was seen at the end of the terrace.
Lord Derwentwater was, of course, accompanied by the prince, but he left him at the further end of the lawn, and went quickly on alone to welcome his visitors.
Oh! how Anna’s heart fluttered as she beheld him.
His devoirs were first paid to Lady Webb, and then to the younger ladies. Dorothy was quite easy in her manner, and shook hands with him warmly, but Anna courtesied deeply to the formal bow he addressed to her. At the same time, the flush on her cheek betrayed the state of her feelings.
Lord Derwentwater could not fail to perceive this, and we doubt not he was much gratified by the discovery, but he was obliged to turn to the others.
Meanwhile, the prince had come up, and in compliance with the instructions he had received, Lord Derwentwater introduced him as Mr. Johnson — but without another word.
Sir John Webb bowed rather stiffly to the stranger, and Forster was scarcely more polite; indeed, very little notice was taken of him, except by the young ladies, both of whom were struck by his manner, and entered into conversation with him.
They soon found out that he was a person of distinction, and, learning that he had only just come from France, felt sure he must be a messenger from the Chevalier de Saint George, and began to question him about the prince, displaying an interest in the cause, that could not but be agreeable to the hearer.
“I shall probably see the prince ere long,” said the Chevalier, “and will not fail to tell him what warm partisans he has among the ladies of Northumberland.”
“Tell him that Dorothy Forster, of Bamborough Castle, will do her best to aid him whenever he comes,” cried that young lady.
“Tell him that Anna Webb begins to think he never means to come at all, and fears he has forgotten his friends,” added the other.
“Both messages shall reach him, I promise you,” said the prince. “And when he learns how surpassingly beautiful are the two damsels who sent them he will be doubly gratified.”
“We need no compliments,” said Anna. “For my part I am out of patience with the prince.”
“Why so?”
“Because he neglects so many opportunities. He might be on the throne now, had he chosen.”
“The prince has neglected no chance. But you are not aware of the difficulties he has had to encounter.”
“I can partly guess them. But they are nothing. Were I in his place I would have made twenty attempts, and either have succeeded or perished.”
“I admire your spirit. But to win a kingdom, you must have an army. And the prince has no army.”
“He could have one
very soon,” cried Anna.
“Yes, that is certain,” added Dorothy. “A small army could be raised in this county. Lord Derwentwater could bring five hundred men. And my brother, Mr. Forster, could raise a troop.”
“Tell this to the prince, when you go back,” cried Anna. “Say that the Jacobite ladies of England are dying to behold him.”
“That will bring him, if anything will,” laughed the prince.
At this moment Lord Derwentwater came up, and said to Anna:
“May I ask what message you are sending to the prince?”
“That we are all tired of waiting for him,” she replied. “We have been so often disappointed, that we begin to think he will never come.”
“Then let me inform you that I have just received certain intelligence that his majesty is in England at this moment.”
Dorothy and Anna uttered exclamations of surprise and delight.
“You hear that, papa?” cried the latter to Sir John Webb. “Lord Derwentwater says that his majesty, King James the Third, is now in England. Is not that good news?”
“Wonderfully good news!” exclaimed Sir John. “Where has he landed?”
“I can’t tell you where he has landed,” cried Tom Forster, scarcely repressing a joyous shout. “But I can tell you where he is now. Since none of you have discovered him, I’ll be first to kiss hands.”
And rushing forward, he bent before the prince, who graciously extended his hand towards him.
On this there was a general movement towards the prince, who had now entirely changed his deportment, and received them all with dignified affability.
To Lady Webb he showed marked attention, and to each of the young ladies he had something pleasant to say, and soon relieved any uneasiness they might feel as to the freedom with which they had spoken to him.
This little ceremony over, he took Sir John Webb and Mr. Forster apart, and remained in earnest conversation with them for a few minutes.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 725