CHAPTER XV.
FALCON AND DOVE.
"Has your ladyship any commands for Paris?" Lord Fareham asked, one Augustafternoon, when the ghost party at Millbank was almost forgotten amid asuccession of entertainments on land and river; a fortnight at Epsom todrink the waters; and a fortnight at Tunbridge--where the Queen and Courtwere spending the close of summer--to neutralise the bad effects of Epsomchalybeates with a regimen of Kentish sulphur. If nobody at either resortdrank deeper of the medicinal springs than Hyacinth--who had ordered herphysician to order her that treatment--the risk of harm or the possibilityof benefit was of the smallest. But at Epsom there had been a good deal ofgay company, and a greater liberty of manners than in London; for, indeed,as Rochester assured Lady Fareham, "the freedom of Epsom allowed almostnothing to be scandalous." And at Tunbridge there were dances by torchlighton the common. "And at the worst," Lady Fareham told her friends, "afortnight or so at the Wells helps to shorten the summer."
It was the middle of August when they went back to Fareham House, hot, dryweather, and London seemed to be living on the Thames, so thick was thethrong of boats going up and down the river, so that with an afternoon tiderunning up it seemed as if barges, luggers, and wherries were moving in onesolid block into the sunset sky.
De Malfort had been attached to her ladyship's party at Epsom, and atTunbridge Wells. He had his own lodgings, but seldom occupied them,except in that period between four or five in the morning and two in theafternoon, which Rochester and he called night. His days were passedchiefly in attendance upon Lady Fareham--singing and playing, fetching andcarrying combing her favourite spaniel with the same ivory pocket-comb thatarranged his own waterfall curls; or reading a French romance to her, orteaching her the newest game of cards, or the last dancing-step importedfrom Fontainebleau or St. Cloud, or some new grace or fashion in dancing,the holding of the hand lower or higher; the latest manner of passagingin a bransle or a coranto, as performed by the French King and MadameHenriette, the two finest dancers in France; Conde, once so famous for hisdancing, now appearing in those gay scenes but seldom.
"Have you any commands for Paris, Hyacinth?" repeated Lord Fareham, hiswife being for the moment too surprised to answer him. "Or have you,sister? I am starting for France to-morrow. I shall ride to Dover--lying anight at Sittingbourne, perhaps--and cross by the Packet that goes twice aweek to Calais."
"Paris! And pray, my lord, what business takes you to Paris?"
"There is a great collection of books to be sold there next week. Thelibrary of your old admirer, Nicolas Fouquet, whom you knew in hissplendour, but who has been a prisoner at Pignerol for a year and a half."
"Poor wretch!" cried De Malfort, "I was at the Chamber with Madame deSevigne very often during his long tedious trial. Mon dieu! what courage,what talent he showed in defending himself! Every safeguard of the law wasviolated in order to silence him and prove him guilty; his papers seizedin his absence, no friend or servant allowed to protect his interest,no inventory taken--documents suppressed that might have served for hisdefence, forgeries inserted by his foes. He had an implacable enemy, andhe the highest in the land. He was the scapegoat of the past, and hadto answer for a system of plunder that made Mazarin the richest man inFrance."
"I don't wonder that Louis was angry with a servant who had the insolenceto entertain his Majesty with a splendour that surpassed his own," saidLady Fareham. "I should like to have been at those fetes at Vaux. Butalthough Fareham talks so lightly of travelling to Paris to choose a fewdusty books, he has always discouraged me from going there to see oldfriends, and my own house--which I grieve to think of--abandoned to thecarelessness of servants."
"Dearest, the cleverest woman in the world cannot be in two places at once;and it seems to me you have ever had your days here so full of agreeableengagements that you can have scarcely desired to leave London," answeredFareham, with his grave smile.
"To leave London--no! But there have been long moping months in Oxfordshirewhen it would have been a relief to change the scene."
"Then, indeed, had you been very earnest in wanting such a change, I amsure you would have taken it. I have never forbidden your going to Paris,nor refused to accompany you there. You may go with me to-morrow, if youcan be ready."
"Which you know I cannot, or you would scarce make so liberal an offer."
"Tres chere, you are pleased to be petulant. But I repeat my question. Isthere anything you want at Paris?"
"Anything? A million things! Everything! But they are things which youwould not be able to choose--except, perhaps, some of the new lace. Imight trust you to buy that, though I'll wager you will bring me a hideouspattern--and some white Cypress powder--and a piece of the ash-colouredvelvet Madame wore last winter. I have friends who can choose for you, ifI write to them; and you will have but to bring the goods, and see theysuffer no harm on the voyage. And you can go to the Rue de Tourain and seewhether my servants are keeping the house in tolerable order."
"With your ladyship's permission I will lodge there while I am in Paris,which will be but long enough to attend the sale of books, and see some oldfriends. If I am detained it will be by finding my friends out of town, andhaving to make a journey to see them. I shall not go beyond Fontainebleauat furthest."
"Dear Fontainebleau! It is of all French palaces my favourite. I alwaysenvy Diana of Poitiers for having her cypher emblazoned all over thatlovely gallery--Henri and Diane! Diane and Henri! Ah, me!"
"You envy her a kind of notoriety which I do not covet for my wife!"
"You always take one au pied de la lettre; but seriously, Madame de Brezewas an honest woman compared with the lady who lodges by the Holbein Gate."
"I admit that sin wears a bolder front than it did in the last century.Angela, can I find nothing for you in Paris?"
"No; I thank your lordship. You and sister are both so generous to me thatI have lost the capacity to wish for anything."
"And as Lewin crosses the Channel three or four times a year, I doubt wepositively have the Paris fashions as soon as the Parisians themselves,"added Hyacinth.
"That is an agreeable hallucination with which Englishwomen have everconsoled themselves for not being French," said De Malfort, who sat lollingagainst the marble balustrade, nursing the guitar on which he had beenplaying when Fareham interrupted their noontide idleness; "but yourladyship may be sure that London milliners are ever a twelvemonth in therear of Paris fashions. It is not that they do not see the new mode. Theysee it, and think it hideous; and it takes a year to teach them that it isthe one perfect style possible."
"I was not thinking of kerchiefs or petticoats," said Fareham. "You are abook-lover, sister, like myself. Can I bring you no books you wish for?"
"If there were a new comedy by Moliere; but I fear it is wrong to read him,since in his late play, performed before the King at Versailles, he is socruel an enemy to our Church."
"A foe only to hypocrites and pretenders, Angela. I will bring you his_Tartuffe_, if it is printed; or still better, _Le Misanthrope_, which I amtold is the finest comedy that was ever written; and the latest romance, intwenty volumes or so, by one of those lady authors Hyacinth so admires, butwhich I own to finding as tedious as the divine Orinda's verses."
"You can jeer at that poor lady's poetry, yet take pleasure in suchbalderdash as Hudibras!"
"I love wit, dearest; though I am not witty. But as for your Princesse deCleves, I find her ineffably dull."
"That is because you do not take the trouble to discover for whom thecharacters are meant. You lack the key to the imbroglio," said his wife,with a superior air.
"I do not care for a book that is a series of enigmas. Don Quixote needs nosuch guess-work. Shakespeare's characters are painted not from the pettymodels of yesterday and to-day, but from mankind in every age and everyclimate. Moliere's and Calderon's personages stand on as solid a basis. Inless than half a century your 'Grand Cyrus' will be insufferable jargon."
"Not more so t
han your _Hamlet_ or _Othello_. Shakespeare was but kept infashion during the late King's reign because his Majesty loved him--andwill soon be forgotten, now that we have so many gayer and briskerdramatists."
"Whoever quotes Shakespeare, nowadays?" asked Lady Sarah Tewkesbury, whohad been showing a rustic niece the beauties of the river, as seen fromFareham House. "Even Mr. Taylor, whose sermons bristle with elegantallusions, never points one of his passionate climaxes with a Shakespearianline. And yet there are some very fine lines in _Hamlet_ and _Macbeth_,which would scarce sound amiss from the pulpit," added her ladyship,condescendingly. "I have read all the plays, some of them twice over. And Idoubt that though Shakespeare cannot hold the stage in our more enlightenedage, and will be less and less acted as the town grows more refined, hisworks will always be tasted by scholars; among whom, in my modest way, Idare reckon myself."
* * * * *
Lord Fareham left London on horseback, with but one servant, in the earlyAugust dawn, before the rest of the household were stirring. Hyacinth laynearly as late of a morning as Henrietta Maria, whom Charles used sometimesto reproach for not being up in time for the noonday office at her ownchapel. Lady Fareham had not Portuguese Catherine's fervour, who was oftenat Mass at seven o'clock; but she did usually contrive to be present atHigh Mass at the Queen's chapel; and this was the beginning of her day. Bythat time Angela and her niece and nephew had spent hours on the river, orin the meadows at Chiswick, or on Putney Heath, ever glad to escape fromthe great overgrown city, which was now licking up every stretch of greensward, and every flowery hedgerow west of St. James's Street. Soon therewould be no country between the Haymarket and "The Pillars of Hercules."
Denzil sometimes enjoyed the privilege of accompanying Angela, children,and _gouvernante_, on these rural expeditions by the great waterway; and onsuch occasions he and Angela would each take an oar and row the boat forsome part of the voyage, while the watermen rested, and in this mannerAngela, instructed by Sir Denzil, considerably advanced her power asan oarswoman. It was an exercise she loved, as indeed she loved allout-of-door exercises, from riding with hawks and hounds to battledoreand shuttlecock. But most of all, perhaps, she loved the river, and therhythmical dip of oars in the fresh morning air, when every curve of thefertile shores seemed to reveal new beauty.
It had been a hot, dry summer, and the grass in the parks was burnt to adull brown--had, indeed, almost ceased to be grass--while the atmosphere intown had a fiery taste, and was heavy with the dust which whitened all theroadways, and which the faintest breath of wind dispersed. Here on theflowing tide there was coolness, and the long rank grass upon those lowsedgy shores was still green.
Lady Fareham supported the August heats sitting on her terrace, with acluster of friends about her, and her musicians and singing-boys groupedin the distance, ready to perform at her bidding; but Henriette and herbrother soon tired of that luxurious repose, and would urge their auntto assist in a river expedition. The _gouvernante_ was fat and lazy andgood-tempered, had attended upon Henriette from babyhood, and always did asshe was told.
"Her ladyship says I must have some clever person instead of Priscillabefore I am a year older," Henriette told her aunt; "but I have promisedpoor old Prissy to hate the new person consumedly."
Angela and Denzil laughed as they rowed past the ruined abbey, seen dimlyacross the low water-meadow, where cows of the same colour were all lyingin the same attitude, chewing the cud.
"I think Mr. Spavinger's trick must have cured your sister's fine friendsof all belief in ghosts," he said.
"I doubt they would be as ready to believe--or to pretend tobelieve--to-morrow," answered Angela. "They think of nothing from morningtill night but how to amuse themselves; and when every pleasure has beenexhausted, I suppose fear comes in as a form of entertainment, and theywant the shock of seeing a ghost."
"There have been no more midnight parties since Lady Sarah's assembly, Ithink?"
"Not among people of quality, perhaps; but there have been citizens'parties. I heard Monsieur de Malfort telling my sister about a supper givenby a wealthy wine-cooper's lady from Aldersgate. The city people copyeverything that their superiors wear or do."
"Even to their morals," said Denzil. "'Twere happy if the so-calledsuperiors would remember that, and upon what a fertile ground they sowthe seed of new vices. It is like the importation of a new weed or a newinsect, which, beginning with an accident, may end in ruined crops and acountry's famine."
Without deliberate disobedience to her husband, Lady Fareham made the bestuse of her time during his absence in Paris. The public theatres had notyet re-opened after the horror of the plague. Whitehall was a desert, theKing and his chief following being at Tunbridge. It was the dullest seasonof the year, and the recrudescence of the contagion in the low-lying townsalong the Thames--Deptford, Greenwich, and the neighbourhood--together withsome isolated cases in London, made people more serious than usual, despiteof the so-called victory over the Dutch, which, although a mixed benefit,was celebrated piously by a day of General Thanksgiving.
Hyacinth, disgusted at the dulness of the town, was for ordering hercoaches and retiring to Chilton.
"It is mortal dull at the Abbey," she said, "but at least we have thehawks, and breezy hills to ride over, instead of this sickly cityatmosphere, which to my nostrils smells of the pestilence."
Henri de Malfort argued against such a retreat.
"It were a deliberate suicide," he said. "London, when everybody hasleft--all the bodies we count worthy to live, _par exemple_--is a moredelightful place than you can imagine. There are a host of vulgaramusements which you would not dare to visit when your friends are in town;and which are ten times as amusing as the pleasures you know by heart. Haveyou ever been to the Bear Garden? I'll warrant you no, though 'tis butacross the river at Bankside. We'll go there this afternoon, if you like,and see how the common people taste life. Then there are the gardens atIslington. There are mountebanks, and palmists, and fortune-tellers,who will frighten you out of your wits for a shilling. There's a man atClerkenwell, a jeweller's journeyman from Venice, who pretends to practisethe transmutation of metals, and to make gold. He squeezed hundreds out ofthat old miser Denham, who was afraid to have the law of him for imposture,lest all London should laugh at his own credulity and applaud thecheat. And you have not seen the Italian puppet-play, which is vastlyentertaining. I could find you novelty and amusement for a month."
"Find anything new, even if it fail to amuse me. I am sick of everything Iknow."
"And then there is our midnight party at Millbank, the ghost-party, atwhich you are to frighten your dearest friends out of their poor littlewits."
"Most of my dearest friends are in the country."
"Nay, there is Lady Lucretia Topham, whom I know you hate; and Lady Sarahand the Dubbins are still in Covent Garden."
"I will have no Dubbin--a toping wretch--and she is a too incongruousmixture, with her Edinburgh lingo and her Whitehall arrogance. Besides, thewhole notion of a mock ghost was vulgarised by Wilmot's foolery, who oughtto have been born a saltimbanque, and spent his life in a fair. No, I haveabandoned the scheme."
"What! after I have been taxing my invention to produce the most terribleillusion that was ever witnessed? Will you let a clown like Spavinger--awell-born stable-boy--baulk us of our triumph? I am sending to Paris fora powder to burn in a corner of the room, which will throw the ghastliestpallor upon your countenance. When I devise a ghost, it shall be noimpromptu spectre in yellow riding-boots, but a vision so awful, so truean image of a being returned from the dead, that the stoutest nerves willthrill and tremble at the apparition. The nun's habit is coming from Paris.I have asked my cousin, Madame de Fiesque, to obtain it for me at theCarmelites."
"You are taking a vast deal of trouble. But what kind of assembly can wemuster at this dead season?" "Leave all in my hands. I will find you someof the choicest spirits. It is to be _my_ party. I will not even tell youwha
t night I fix upon, till all is ready. So make no engagements for yourevenings, and tell nobody anything."
"Who invented that powder?"
"A French chemist. He has it of all colours, and can flood a scene ingolden light, or the rose of dawn, or the crimson of sunset, or a palesilvery blueness that you would swear was moonshine. It has been used inall the Court ballets. I saw Madame once look as ghastly as death itself,and all the Court was seized with terror. Some blundering fool hadburnt the wrong powder, which cast a greenish tint over the faces, andHenriette's long thin features had a look of death. It seemed the forecastof an early grave; and some of us shuddered, as at a prophecy of evil."
"You might expect the worst in her case, knowing the wretched life sheleads with Monsieur."
"Yes, when she is with him; but that is not always. There arecompensations."
"If you mean scandal, I will not hear a word. She is adorable. The mostsympathetic person I know--good even to her enemies--who are legion."
"You had better not say that, for I doubt she has only one kind of enemy."
"As how?"
"The admirers she has encouraged and disappointed. Yes, she is adorable,wofully thin, and, I fear, consumptive, but royal: and adorable, 'douceuret lumiere,' as Bossuet calls her. But to return to my ghost-party."
"If you were wise, you would abandon the notion. I doubt that in spite ofyour powders your friends will never believe in a ghost."
"Oh yes, they will. It shall be my business to get them in the propertemper."
That idea of figuring in a picturesque habit, and in a halo of churchyardlight, was irresistible. Hyacinth promised to conform to Malfort's plans,and to be ready to assume her phantom _role_ whenever she was called upon.
Angela knew something of the scheme, and that there was to be anotherassembly at Millbank; but her sister had seemed disinclined to talk ofthe plan in her presence--a curious reticence in one whose sentiments andcaprices were usually given to the world at large with perfect freedom. Foronce in her life Hyacinth had a secret air, and checked herself suddenly inthe midst of her light babble at a look from De Malfort, who had urged herto keep her sister out of their midnight party.
"I pledge my honour that there shall be nothing to offend," he told her,"but I hope to have the wittiest coxcombs in London, and we want no prudesto strangle every jest with a long-drawn lip and an alarmed eye. Yoursister has a pale, fragile prettiness which pleases an eye satiated withthe exuberant charms of your Rubens and Titian women; but she is nothandsome enough to give herself airs; and she is a little inclined thatway. By the faith of a gentleman, I have suffered scowls from her that Iwould scarce have endured from Barbara!"
"Barbara! You are vastly free with her ladyship's name."
"Not freer than she has ever been with her friendship."
"Henri, if I thought----"
"What, dearest?"
"That you had ever cared for that--wanton----"
"Could you think it, when you know my life in England has been one longtragedy of loving in vain--of sighing only to be denied--of secrettears--and public submission."
"Do not talk so," she exclaimed, starting up from her low tabouret, andmoving hastily to the open window, to fresh air and sunshine, ripplingriver and blue sky, escaping from an atmosphere that had become feverish.
"De Malfort, you know I must not listen to foolish raptures."
"I know you have been refusing to hear for the last two years."
They were on the terrace now, she leaning on the broad marble balustrade,he standing beside her, and all the traffic of London moving with the tidebelow them.
"To return to our party," she said, in a lighter tone, for that spurt ofjealousy had betrayed her into seriousness. "It will be very awkward not toinvite my sister to go with me."
"If you did she would refuse, belike, for she is under Fareham's thumb; andhe disapproves of everything human."
"Under Fareham's thumb! What nonsense! Indeed I must invite her. She wouldthink it so strange to be omitted."
"Not if you manage things cleverly. The party is to be a surprise. You cantell her next morning you knew nothing about it beforehand."
"But she will hear me order the barge--or will see me start."
"There will be no barge. I shall carry you to Millbank in my coach, afteryour evening's entertainment, wherever that may be."
"I had better take my own carriage at least, or my chair."
"You can have a chair, if you are too prudish to use my coach, but it shallbe got for you at the moment. We won't have your own chairman and links tochatter and betray you before you have played the ghost. Remember youcome to my party not as a guest, but as a performer. If they ask why LadyFareham is absent I shall say you refused to take part in our foolery."
"Oh, you must invent some better excuse. They will never believe anythingrational of me. Say I was disappointed of a hat or a mantua. Well, itshall be as you wish. Angela is apt to be tiresome. I hate a disapprovingcarriage, especially in a younger sister."
Angela was puzzled by Hyacinth's demeanour. A want of frankness in one sofrank by nature aroused her fears. She was puzzled and anxious, and longedfor Fareham's return, lest his giddy-pated wife should be guilty of someinnocent indiscretion that might vex him.
"Oh! if she but valued him at his just worth she would value his opinionsecond only to the approval of conscience," she thought, sadly, everregretful of her sister's too obvious indifference towards so kind ahusband.
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