His Majesty's Well-Beloved Part 16

1

His Majesty the King was, of course, inaccessible to such as I. And the time was short.

Did I say that the hour was even then after six? The streets were very dark, for overhead the sky was overcast, and as I walked rapidly down the Lane to the Temple Stairs, a thin, penetrating drizzle began to fall.

My first thought had been to take boat to Westminster and to go to the house of Mr. Betterton in Tothill Street, there to consult with him as to what would be my best course to pursue. But I feel sure that You, dear Mistress, will understand me when I say that I felt a certain pride in keeping my present Project to myself.

I was not egotistical enough to persuade myself that love of Country and loyalty to my King were the sole motive powers of my Resolve. My innermost Heart, my Conscience perhaps, told me that an ugly Desire for Revenge had helped to stimulate my patriotic Ardour. I had realized that it lay in my power to avenge upon an impious Malapert the hideous Outrage which he had perpetrated against the Man whom I loved best in all the World.

I had realized, in fact, that I could become the instrument of Mr.

Betterton's revenge.

That my Denunciation of the abominable Conspiracy would involve the Disgrace-probably the Death-of others who were nothing to me, I did not pause to consider. They were all Traitors, anyhow, and all of them deserving of punishment.

So, on the whole, I decided to act for myself. When I had seen the Countess of Castlemaine and had put her on her guard, I would go to Mr.

Betterton and tell him what I had done.

I beg you to believe, however, dear Mistress, that no thought of any reward had entered my mind, other than a Word of Appreciation from my Friend.

2

I had, as perhaps you know, a slight acquaintance with Mistress Floid, who is one of my Lady Castlemaine's tire-women. Through her, I obtained speech with her Ladyship.

It was not very difficult. I sent in the two Doc.u.ments through Mistress Floid's hands. Five minutes later I was told that my Lady desired speech with me.

I was a little bewildered and somewhat dazzled to be in the presence of so great a lady. The richness of the House, the liveries of the Servants, the superciliousness of the Lacqueys, all tended to discompose me; whilst the subtle Scent of Spice and Perfumes which hung in the air and the chorus of bird-song which came from an unseen Aviary, helped to numb my Senses. I was thankful that I had not trusted to Speech and Memory, but had set doc.u.mentary Evidence forward to prove what I had to say.

Of my interview with her Ladyship I have only a confused memory. I know that she asked many questions and listened to my stammering replies with obvious impatience; but I have only a very vague recollection of her flashing Eyes, of her Face, flaming with anger, of her jewelled Hand clutching the doc.u.ments which I had brought, and of the torrent of vituperative abuse which she poured upon the Traitors, who she vowed would pay with their lives for their Infamy. I know that, in the end, I was allowed to kiss her hand and that she thanked me in her own Name and that of His Majesty for my Loyalty and my Discretion.

I went out of the room and out of the house like a Man in a dream. A whirl of conflicting Emotions was rending my heart and my brain, until sheer physical nausea caused me nigh to swoon.

Truly it was a terrible Experience for a simple-minded Clerk to go through, and it is a marvel to me that my brain did not give way under the Strain.

But my instinct-like that of a faithful dog seeking shelter-led me to the lodgings of Mr. Betterton in Tothill Street, the very house in which his father had lived before him.

He had not yet returned from the Theatre, where he was at Rehearsal; but his Servant knew me well and allowed me to go up into the parlour and to lie down upon the sofa for a moment's rest.

It was then nearing seven, and I knew that Mr. Betterton would soon be coming home. I now felt infinitely weary; numbness of body and brain had followed the conflicting Emotions of the past hours, and I was only conscious of an overwhelming desire to rest.

I closed my eyes. The place was warm and still; a veritable Haven of Quietude. And it was the place where dwelt the Man for whose sake I had just done so much. For awhile I watched the play of the firelight upon the various articles of furniture in the room; but soon a pleasing Torpor invaded my tired Brain, and I fell asleep.

3

The sound of Voices upon the landing outside, the opening and closing of one door and then another, recalled me to myself. The familiar sound of my Friend's footsteps gave me an infinity of Pleasure.

The next moment Mr. Betterton came into the room. He was preceded by his Servant, who brought in a couple of Candles which he placed upon the table. Apparently he had said nothing to his Master about my presence here, for Mr. Betterton seemed vastly surprised when he saw me. I had just jumped to my feet when I heard him entering the room, and I suppose that I must have looked somewhat wild and dishevelled, for he expressed great astonishment at my Appearance.

Astonishment, and also Pleasure.

"Why, friend Honeywood!" he exclaimed, and came to greet me with both hands outstretched. "What favourable Wind hath blown you to this port?"

He looked tired and very much aged, methought. He, a young Man, then in the prime of Life, looked hara.s.sed and weary; all the Elasticity seemed to have gone out of his Movements, all the Springiness from his Footstep. He sat down and rested his elbows on his knees, clasped his slender hands together and stared moodily into the fire.

I watched him for awhile. His clear-cut Profile was outlined like an Italian Cameo against the dark angle of the room; the firelight gave a strange glow to his expressive Eyes and to the sensitive Mouth with the firm lips pressed closely together, as if they would hold some Secret which was even then threatening to escape.

That look of dark and introspective Brooding sat more apparent now than ever upon his mobile face, and I marvelled if the News which I was about to impart would tend to dissipate that restless, searching glance, which seemed for ever to be probing into the future decrees of Fate.

"I have come to tell you news, Sir," I said after a while.

He started as from a Reverie, and said half-absently:

"News? What news, friend? Good, I hope."

"Yes," I replied very quietly, even though I felt that my heart was beating fast within my breast with excitement. "Good news of the Man You hate."

He made no reply for the moment, and even by the dim, uncertain light of the fire I could see the quick change in his face. I cannot explain it exactly, but it seemed as if something Evil had swept over it, changing every n.o.ble line into something that was almost repellent.

My heart beat faster still. I was beginning to feel afraid and a queer, choking Sensation gripped me by the throat and silenced the Words which were struggling to come to my lips.

"Well?" queried Mr. Betterton a second or two later, in a calm, dull, unemotional Voice. "What is thy news, friend Honeywood?"

"There is a plot," I replied, still speaking with an effort, "against His Majesty and the Countess of Castlemaine."

"I knew that," he rejoined. "'Tis no news. There is more than one plot, in fact, against the King and the Castlemaine. You surely haven't come out on this wet night," he added with a mirthless laugh, "in order to tell me that!"

After all that I had gone through, after my tussle with my conscience and my fight against myself, I felt nettled by his flippant tone.

"I know not," I said firmly, "if there is more than one plot against His Majesty the King. But I do know that there is one which aims at striking at his sacred Person to-night."

"That also is possible," he retorted, with still that same air of flippant Carelessness. "But even so, I do not see, my dear Friend, what You can do in the matter."

"I can denounce the Plot," I riposted warmly, "and help to save the life of His Majesty the King."

"So you can, my dear Honeywood," he said with a smile, amused at my vehemence. "So you can! And upon the King's grat.i.tude you may lay the foundations of your future Fortune."

"I was not thinking of a Fortune," I retorted gruffly; "only of Revenge."

At this he looked up suddenly, leaned forward and in the firelight tried to read my face.

"Revenge?" he queried curtly. "What do you mean?"