Mistress Wilding

by Rafael Sabatini

  CHAPTER XVII. MR. WILDING'S RETURN

  The preparations to be made for the momentous coup Sir Rowland meditatedwere considerable. Mr. Newlington was yet to be concerted with andadvised, and, that done, Sir Rowland had to face the difficulty ofeluding the Bridgwater guards and make his way to Feversham's camp atSomerton to enlist the general's cooperation to the extent that wehave seen he looked for. That done, he was to return and ripen hispreparations for the business he had undertaken. Nevertheless, in spiteof all that lay before him, he did not find it possible to leave LuptonHouse without stepping out into the garden in quest of Ruth. Throughthe window, whilst he and Richard were at their ale, he had watched herbetween whiles, and had lingered, waiting; for Diana was with her, andit was not his wish to seek her whilst Diana was at hand. Speak withher, ere he went, he must. He was an opportunist, and now, he fondlyimagined, was his opportunity. He had made that day, at last, afavourable impression upon Richard's sister; he had revealed himself inan heroic light, and egregiously misreading the emotion she had shownbefore withdrawing, he was satisfied that did he strike now victory mustattend him. He sighed his satisfaction and pleasurable anticipation. Hehad been wary and he had known how to wait; and now, it seemed to him,he was to be rewarded for his patience. Then he frowned, as anotherglance showed him that Diana still lingered with her cousin; he wishedDiana at the devil. He had come to hate this fair-haired doll to whomhe had once paid court. She was too continually in his way, a constantobstacle in his path, ever ready to remind Ruth of Anthony Wilding whenSir Rowland most desired Anthony Wilding to be forgotten; and in Diana'sfeelings towards himself such a change had been gradually wrought thatshe had come to reciprocate his sentiments--to hate him with all thebitter hatred into which love can be by scorn transmuted. At first herobject in keeping Ruth's thoughts on Mr. Wilding, in pleading his cause,and seeking to present him in a favourable light to the lady whom he hadconstrained to become his wife, had been that he might stand a barrierbetween Ruth and Sir Rowland to the end that Diana might hope to seerevived--faute de mieux, since possible in no other way--the feelingsthat once Sir Rowland had professed for herself. The situation wasrich in humiliations for poor, vain, foolishly crafty Diana, and thesehumiliations were daily rendered more bitter by Sir Rowland's unwaveringcourtship of her cousin in spite of all that she could do.

  In the end the poison of them entered her soul, corroded her sentimentstowards him, dissolved the love she had borne him, and transformedit into venom. She would not have him now if he did penitence for hisdisaffection by going in sackcloth and crawling after her on his kneesfor a full twelvemonth. But neither should he have Ruth if she couldthwart his purpose. On that she was resolved.

  Had she but guessed that he watched them from the windows, waiting forher to take her departure, she had lingered all the morning, and allthe afternoon if need be, at Ruth's side. But being ignorant ofthe circumstance--believing that he had already left the house--shepresently quitted Ruth to go indoors, and no sooner was she gone thanthere was Blake replacing her at Ruth's elbow. Mistress Wilding met himwith unsmiling, but not ungentle face.

  "Not yet gone, Sir Rowland?" she asked him, and a less sanguine man hadbeen discouraged by the words.

  "It may be forgiven me that I tarry at such a time," said he, "when weconsider that I go, perhaps--to return no more." It was an inspirationon his part to assume the role of the hero going forth to a possibledeath. It invested him with noble, valiant pathos which could not, hethought, fail of its effect upon a woman's mind. But he looked in vainfor a change of colour, be it ever so slight, or a quickening of thebreath. He found neither; though, indeed, her deep blue eyes seemed tosoften as they observed him.

  "There is danger in this thing that you are undertaking?" said she,between question and assertion.

  "It is not my wish to overstate it; yet I leave you to imagine what therisk may be."

  "It is a good cause," said she, thinking of the poor, deluded, humblefolk that followed Monmouth's banner, whom Blake's fine action was torescue from impending ruin and annihilation, "and surely Heaven will beon your side."

  "We must prevail," cried Blake with kindling eye, and you had thoughthim a fanatic, not a miserable earner of blood-money. "We mustprevail, though some of us may pay dearly for the victory. I have aforeboding..." He paused, sighed, then laughed and flung back his head,as if throwing off some weight that had oppressed him.

  It was admirably played; Nick Trenchard, had he observed it, might haveenvied the performance; and it took effect with her, this adding of aprospective martyr's crown to the hero's raiment he had earlier donned.It was a master-touch worthy of one who was deeply learned--from theschool of foul experience--in the secret ways that lead to a woman'sfavour. In a pursuit of this kind there was no subterfuge too mean, notreachery too base for Sir Rowland Blake.

  "Will you walk, mistress?" he said, and she, feeling that it were anunkindness not to do his will, assented gravely. They moved down thesloping lawn, side by side, Sir Rowland leaning on his cane, bareheaded,his feathered hat tucked under his arm. Before them the river's smoothexpanse, swollen and yellow with the recent rains, glowed like a sheetof copper, so that it blurred the sight to look upon it long.

  A few steps they took with no word uttered, then Sir Rowland spoke."With this foreboding that is on me," said he, "I could not go withoutseeing you, without saying something that I may never have anotherchance of saying; something that--who knows?--but for the emprise towhich I am now wedded you had never heard from me."

  He shot her a furtive, sidelong glance from under his heavy, beetlingbrows, and now, indeed, he observed a change ripple over the composureof her face like a sudden breeze across a sheet of water. The deep lacecollar at her throat rose and fell, and her fingers toyed nervously witha ribbon of her grey bodice. She recovered in an instant, and threw upentrenchments against the attack she saw he was about to make.

  "You exaggerate, I trust," said she. "Your forebodings will be provedgroundless. You will return safe and sound from this venture, as indeedI hope you may."

  That was his cue. "You hope it?" he cried, arresting his step, turning,and imprisoning her left hand in his right. "You hope it? Ah, if youhope for my return, return I will; but unless I know that you will havesome welcome for me such as I desire from you, I think..." hisvoice quivered cleverly, "I think, perhaps, it were well if... ifmy forebodings were not as groundless as you say they are. Tell me,Ruth..."

  But she interrupted him. It was high time, she thought. Her face he sawwas flushed, her eyes had hardened somewhat. Calmly she disengaged herhand.

  "What is't you mean?" she asked. "Speak, Sir Rowland, speak plainly,that I may give you a plain answer."

  It was a challenge in which another man had seen how hopeless was hiscase, and, accepting defeat, had made as orderly a retreat as still waspossible. But Sir Rowland, stricken in his vanity, went headlong on toutter rout.

  "Since you ask me in such terms I will be plain, indeed," he answeredher. "I mean..." He almost quailed before the look that met him from herintrepid eyes. "Do you not see my meaning, Ruth?"

  "That which I see," said she, "I do not believe, and as I would notwrong you by any foolish imaginings, I would have you plain with me."

  Yet the egregious fool went on. "And why should you not believe yoursenses?" he asked her, between anger and entreaty. "Is it wonderful thatI should love you? Is it...?"

  "Stop!" She drew back a pace from him. There was a moment's silence,during which it seemed she gathered her forces to destroy him, and,in the spirit, he bowed his head before the coming storm. Then, with asudden relaxing of the stiffness her lissom figure had assumed, "I thinkyou had better leave me, Sir Rowland," she advised him. She half turnedand moved a step away; he followed with lowering glance, his upper liplifting and laying bare his powerful teeth. In a stride he was besideher.

  "Do you hate me, Ruth?" he asked her hoarsely.

  "Why should I hate you?" she counter-questioned, sadly. "I do n
ot evendislike you," she continued in a more friendly tone, adding, as if byway of explaining this phenomenon, "You are my brother's friend. But Iam disappointed in you, Sir Rowland. You had, I know, no intention ofoffering me disrespect; and yet it is what you have done."

  "As how?" he asked.

  "Knowing me another's wife..."

  He broke in tempestuously. "A mock marriage! If it is but that scruplestands between us..."

  "I think there is more," she answered him. "You compel me to hurt you; Ido so as the surgeon does--that I may heal you."

  "Why, thanks for nothing," he made answer, unable to repress a sneer.Then, checking himself, and resuming the hero-martyr posture, "I go,mistress," he told her sadly, "and if I lose my life to-night, orto-morrow, in this affair..."

  "I shall pray for you," said she; for she had found him out atlast, perceived the nature of the bow he sought to draw across herheart-strings, and, having perceived it, contempt awoke in her. He hadattempted to move her by unfair, insidious means.

  He fell back, crimson from chin to brow. He stifled the wrath thatwelled up, threatening to choke him. He was a short-necked man, of thesort--as Trenchard had once reminded him--that falls a prey to apoplexy,and surely he was never nearer it than at that moment. He made her aprofound bow, bending himself almost in two before her in a very ironyof deference; then, drawing himself up again, he turned and left her.

  The plot which with some pride he had hatched and the reward he lookedto cull from it, were now to his soul as ashes to his lips. What couldit profit him to destroy Monmouth so that Anthony Wilding lived? Forwhether she loved Wilding or not, she was Wilding's wife. Wilding,nominally, at least, was master of that which Sir Rowland coveted;not her heart, indeed, but her ample fortune. Wilding had been astumbling-block to him since he had come to Bridgwater; but for Wildinghe might have run a smooth course; he was still fool enough to hugthat dear illusion to his soul. Somewhere in England--if not deadalready--this Wilding lurked, an outlaw, whom any might shoot down atsight. Sir Rowland swore he would not rest until he knew that AnthonyWilding cumbered the earth no more--leastways, not the surface of it.

  He went forth to seek Newlington. The merchant had sent his messageto the rebel King, and had word in answer that His Majesty would begraciously pleased to sup at Mr. Newlington's at nine o'clock onthe following evening, attended by a few gentlemen of his immediatefollowing. Sir Rowland received the news with satisfaction, and sighedto think that Mr. Wilding--still absent, Heaven knew where--would not beof the party. It was reported that on the Monday Monmouth was to marchto Gloucester, hoping there to be joined by his Cheshire friends, sothat it seemed Sir Rowland had not matured his plan a day too soon.He got to horse, and contriving to win out of Bridgwater, rode off toSomerton to concert with Lord Feversham concerning the men he would needfor his undertaking.

  That night Richard made free talk of the undertaking to Diana and toRuth, loving, as does the pusillanimous, to show himself engaged indaring enterprises. Emulating his friend Sir Rowland, he held forthwith prolixity upon the great service he was to do the State, and Ruth,listening to him, was proud of his zeal, the sincerity of which it neverentered her mind to doubt.

  Diana listened, too, but without illusions concerning Master Richard,and she kept her conclusions to herself.

  During the afternoon of the morrow, which was Sunday, Sir Rowlandreturned to Bridgwater, his mission to Feversham entirely successful,and all preparations made. He completed his arrangements, and towardseight o'clock that night the twenty men sent by Feversham--they hadslipped singly into the town--began to muster in the orchard at the backof Mr. Newlington's house.

  It was just about that same hour that Mr. Wilding, saddle-worn anddust-clogged in every pore, rode into Bridgwater, and made his way tothe sign of The Ship in the High Street, overlooking the Cross whereTrenchard was lodged. His friend was absent--possibly gone with his mento the sermon Ferguson was preaching to the army in the Castle Fields.Having put up his horse, Mr. Wilding, all dusty as he was, repairedstraight to the Castle to report himself to Monmouth.

  He was informed that His Majesty was in council. Nevertheless, urgingthat his news was of importance, he begged to be instantly announced.After a pause, he was ushered into a lofty, roomy chamber where, inthe fading daylight, King Monmouth sat in council with Grey and Wade,Matthews, Speke, Ferguson, and others. At the foot of the table stood asturdy country-fellow, unknown to Wilding. It was Godfrey, the spy, whowas to act as their guide across Sedgemoor that night; for the matterthat was engaging them just then was the completion of their plansfor the attack that was to be made that very night upon Feversham'sunprepared camp--a matter which had been resolved during the last fewhours as an alternative preferable to the retreat towards Gloucesterthat had at first been intended.

  Wilding was shocked at the change that had been wrought in Monmouth'sappearance during the few weeks since last he had seen him. His facewas thin, pale, and haggard, his eyes were more sombre, and beneath themthere were heavy, dark stains of sleeplessness and care, his very voice,when presently he spoke, seemed to have lost the musical timbre that hadearlier distinguished it; it was grown harsh and rasping. Disappointmentafter disappointment, set down to ill-luck, but in reality the fruit ofincompetence, had served to sour him. The climax had been reached inthe serious desertions after the Philips Norton fight, and the flightof Paymaster Goodenough with the funds for the campaign. The company satabout the long oak table on which a map was spread, and Colonel Wade wasspeaking when Wilding entered.

  On his appearance Wade ceased, and every eye was turned upon themessenger from London. Ferguson, fresh from his sermon, sat with elbowsresting on the table, his long chin supported by his hands, his eyesgleaming sharply under the shadow of his wig which was pulled down infront to the level of his eyebrows.

  It was the Duke who addressed Mr. Wilding, and the latter's keen earswere quick to catch the bitterness that underlay his words.

  "We are glad to see you, sir; we had not looked to do so again."

  "Not looked to do so, Your Gr... Majesty!" he echoed, plainly notunderstanding, and it was observed that he stumbled over the Duke's newtitle.

  "We had imagined that the pleasures of the town were claiming yourentire attention."

  Wilding looked from one to the other of the men before him, and on theface of all he saw a gravity that amounted to disapproval of him.

  "The pleasures of the town?" said he, frowning, and again--"thepleasures of the town? There is something in this that I fear I do notunderstand."

  "Do you bring us news that London has risen?" asked Grey suddenly.

  "I would I could," said Wilding, smiling wistfully.

  "Is it a laughing matter?" quoth Grey angrily.

  "A smiling matter, my lord," answered Wilding, nettled. "Your lordshipwill observe that I did but smile."

  "Mr. Wilding," said Monmouth darkly, "we are not pleased with you."

  "In that case," returned Wilding, more and more irritated, "Your Majestyexpected of me more than was possible to any man."

  "You have wasted your time in London, sir," the Duke explained. "We sentyou thither counting upon your loyalty and devotion to ourselves. Whathave you done?"

  "As much as a man could..." Wilding began, when Grey again interruptedhim.

  "As little as a man could," he answered. "Were His Grace not the mostfoolishly clement prince in Christendom, a halter would be your rewardfor the fine things you have done in London."

  Mr. Wilding stiffened visibly, his long white face grew set, and hisslanting eyes looked wicked. He was not a man readily moved to anger,but to be greeted in such words as these by one who constituted himselfthe mouthpiece of him for whom Wilding had incurred ruin was more thanhe could bear with equanimity; that the risks to which he had exposedhimself in London--where, indeed, he had been in almost hourlyexpectation of arrest and such short shrift as poor Disney had--shouldbe acknowledged in such terms as these, was something that turned himalmost sick with
disgust. To what manner of men had he leagued himself?He looked Grey steadily between the eyes.

  "I mind me of an occasion on which such a charge of foolish clemencymight, indeed--and with greater justice--have been levelled against HisMajesty," said he and his calm was almost terrible.

  His lordship grew pale at the obvious allusion to Monmouth's mildtreatment of him for his cowardice at Bridport, and his eyes were asbaleful as Wilding's own at that moment. But before he could speak,Monmouth had already answered Mr. Wilding.

  "You are wanting in respect to us, sir," he admonished him.

  Mr. Wilding bowed to the rebuke in a submission that seemed ironical.The blood mounted slowly to Monmouth's cheeks.

  "Perhaps," put in Wade, who was anxious for peace, "Mr. Wilding has someexplanation to offer us of his failure."

  His failure! They took too much for granted. Stitched in the lining ofhis boot was the letter from the Secretary of State. To have achievedthat was surely to have achieved something.

  "I thank you, sir, for supposing it," answered Wilding, his voice hardwith self-restraint; "I have indeed an explanation."

  "We will hear it," said Monmouth condescendingly, and Grey sneered,thrusting out his bloated lips.

  "I have to offer the explanation that Your Majesty is served in Londonby cowards; self-sufficient and self-important cowards who have hinderedme in my task instead of helping me. I refer particularly to ColonelDanvers."

  Grey interrupted him. "You have a rare effrontery, sir--aye, by God! Doyou dare call Danvers a coward?"

  "It is not I who so call him; but the facts. Colonel Danvers has runaway.

  "Danvers gone?" cried Ferguson, voicing the consternation of all.

  Wilding shrugged and smiled; Grey's eye was offensively upon him. Heelected to answer the challenge of that glance. "He has followedthe illustrious example set him by other of Your Majesty's devotedfollowers," said Wilding.

  Grey rose suddenly. This was too much. "I'll not endure it from thisknave!" he cried, appealing to Monmouth.

  Monmouth wearily waved him to a seat; but Grey disregarded the command.

  "What have I said that should touch your lordship?" asked Wilding, and,smiling sardonically, he looked into Grey's eyes.

  "It is not what you have said. It is what you have inferred."

  "And to call me knave!" said Wilding in a mocking horror.

  The repression of his anger lent him a rare bitterness, and an almostdevilishly subtle manner of expressing wordlessly what was passing inhis mind. There was not one present but gathered from his utterance ofthose five words that he did not hold Grey worthy the honour ofbeing called to account for that offensive epithet. He made just anexclamatory protest, such as he might have made had a woman applied theterm to him.

  Grey turned from him slowly to Monmouth. "It might be well," said he,in his turn controlling himself at last, "to place Mr. Wilding underarrest."

  Mr. Wilding's manner quickened on the instant from passive to activeanger.

  "Upon what charge, sir?" he demanded sharply. In truth it was theonly thing wanting that, after all that he had undergone, he should bearrested. His eyes were upon the Duke's melancholy face, and his angerwas such that in that moment he vowed that if Monmouth acted upon thissuggestion of Grey's he should not have so much as the consolation ofSunderland's letter.

  "You have been wanting in respect to us, sir," the Duke answered him.He seemed able to do little more than repeat himself. "You return fromLondon empty-handed, your task unaccomplished, and instead of a becomingcontrition, you hector it here before us in this manner." He shook hishead. "We are not pleased with you, Mr. Wilding."

  "But, Your Grace," exclaimed Wilding, "is it my fault that your Londonagents had failed to organize the rising? That rising should have takenplace, and it would have taken place had Your Majesty been more ablyrepresented there."

  "You were there, Mr. Wilding," said Grey with heavy sarcasm.

  "Would it no' be better to leave Mr. Wilding's affair until afterwards?"suggested Ferguson at that moment. "It is already past eight, YourMajesty, and there be still some details of this attack to settle thatyour officers may prepare for it, whilst Mr. Newlington awaits YourMajesty to supper at nine."

  "True," said Monmouth, ever ready to take a solution offered by another."We will confer with you again later, Mr. Wilding."

  Wilding bowed, accepting his dismissal. "Before I go, Your Majesty,there are certain things I would report..." he began.

  "You have heard, sir," Grey broke in. "Not now. This is not the time."

  "Indeed, no. This is not the time, Mr. Wilding," echoed the Duke.

  Wilding set his teeth in the intensity of his vexation.

  "What I have to tell Your Majesty is of importance," he exclaimed, andMonmouth seemed to waver, whilst Grey looked disdainful unbelief of theimportance of any communication Wilding might have to make.

  "We have little time, Your Majesty," Ferguson reminded Monmouth.

  "Perhaps," put in friendly Wade, "Your Majesty might see Mr. Wilding atMr. Newlington's."

  "Is it really necessary?" quoth Grey.

  This treatment of him inspired Mr. Wilding with malice. The mere mentionof Sunderland's letter would have changed their tone. But he electedby no such word to urge the importance of his business. It should beentirely as Monmouth should elect or be constrained by these gentlemenabout his council-table.

  "It would serve two purposes," said Wade, whilst Monmouth stillconsidered. "Your Majesty will be none too well attended, your officershaving this other matter to prepare for. Mr. Wilding would form anotherto swell your escort of gentlemen."

  "I think you are right, Colonel Wade," said Monmouth. "We sup at Mr.Newlington's at nine o'clock, Mr. Wilding. We shall expect you to attendus there. Lieutenant Cragg," said His Grace to the young officer who hadadmitted Wilding, and who had remained at attention by the door, "youmay reconduct Mr. Wilding."

  Wilding bowed, his lips tight to keep in the anger that cravedexpression. Then, without another word spoken, he turned and departed.

  "An insolent, overbearing knave!" was Grey's comment upon him after hehad left the room.

  "Let us attend to this, your lordship," said Speke, tapping themap. "Time presses," and he invited Wade to continue the matter thatWilding's advent had interrupted.