Mistress Penwick Part 20

"Hail, merry monarchs of the Sylvan Chapel! We have come to escort the maid to the King!" While this avowal struck the Abbes with consternation, they had expected a different mode of attack, and they were not displeased that it had taken another course. They had expected the treasure would be demanded of them with all their papers.

These they would fight for. The secret for which Mistress Penwick was to visit the King, the Abbes were now sure the Royal party knew not.

The papers she carried could give them no clue even though they gained possession of them, and the maid would never divulge what she was to say to his Majesty.

"Her escort is provided," said La Fosse, who stood nearly exhausted, leaning upon the table, his sword still in his hand.

"Ah, but if we choose to offer her a more honourable one! Indeed the knave of a Russian, who lies without, has but just put the matter in our hands. He was to escort her, but at sight of blood he faints and begs us take forthwith his promised wife to Whitehall." One could not mistake the courtly grace and fine figure of his Grace of Buckingham.

Behind him was a form equally imposing, and the handsome mouth and chin of the Duke of Monmouth could be seen as he tilted his masque for a better view of the maid, whom he supposed was the same he had met in the evening. But with half an eye he saw his mistake. Never was he so moved at first sight of a face before. He drank in her loveliness in rapturous drafts, and swayed from side to side examining with critical eye the outline of her fair mould. She had thrown her cloak from her and stood slightly in front of Constantine, as he, holding a candle at her elbow, leant close to her ear, whispering and holding a small paper for her to read. As she read, her eyes flashed, her bosom rose and fell neath the covering of her short, full waist; and Monmouth's eyes seemed ravished by it. It had been his misfortune, he thought, to see long, modish, tapering stays that bruised his fancy as it did the wearer's body, and to behold such slender waist crowned by full, unfettered maiden roundness, pedestalled by such broad and shapely hips was maddening. He had not dreamt of such beauty when his Grace of Buckingham had suggested the trip into the forest.

"We will have some sport finding a beauty and a secret. If it pleases your Grace, I will have the secret and thou the maid," said he to Monmouth, and the latter had come all the way from Whitehall, for he knew the Duke would waste no time looking for aught but a King's portion. Never was there another such a beauty; she would be the gem of his seraglio. She looked up, her dark orbs casting a sweeping glance upon those about.

"I will return to Crandlemar for the night; call my escort!" said she.

Now it was plain this was a ruse of Constantine's own making, and had whispered it as she had pretended to read. Buckingham laughed cruelly and scornfully, provoking smothered mirth from behind the masques of his followers.

"Thou hadst better set out directly, if thou wouldst gain audience with the King ere he leaves Whitehall."

"I am in no hurry, to-morrow will do as well. I like not advice unsought. I'll have none of it. I will go where, when and how as I please!"

"And coercion smacks of a power residing not in these parts. I am delegated, Mistress Penwick, to bring thee straightway to the Royal presence."

"And why, may I ask, am I so called to his Majesty?"

"Thou art a hostage!" and Buckingham took a pinch of snuff with as much ease and grace as if standing in a crowded drawing-room.

CHAPTER XV

THE EDICT OF BUCKINGHAM

"I--I, a hostage! and who gave me as such, pray?"

"There is not time for further inquisition; we have a long journey before us. Come, Mistress!"

"Nay, nay, I protest; I'll not go with thee--"

"Mistress Penwick, I beg thee in my own behalf,"--and the Duke bowed before her so courteously, he half won her good will, then--"and I command thee in the name of the King," and with these words he put forth his hand as it were to take that of Katherine. A sword swept lightly over the maid's fingers, at which the two Dukes drew back with haughty indignation, which meant that reparation must be immediate for this insult to those who came upon his Majesty's affairs; for indeed they feigned well that they were carrying out the King's orders. La Fosse, having now regained his breath and some strength, essayed to draw Mistress Penwick from the scene that was about to ensue; but a young man flung himself between them and drove back the monk at the point of his sword, thus beginning the fight.

Katherine was well-nigh fainting from actual fear and apprehension.

If she were a hostage, 'twas her duty to go and it might favour her cause. Doubtless these men were gentlemen, and what matter now who accompanied her to the King? Adrian had proven himself a knave. Poor, dear Cedric lay ill of his wound and he could not attend her if he would. These things flashed through her mind as she watched the flash of steel. Then on a sudden it came to her who these masqued figures might be. Her heart gave a great bound, and she sprang into the midst of those fighting and raised her voice, crying forth,--

"Cease, cease, fight no more; I will go with thee." A priest near her whispered,--

"'Tis thy honour we fight for now, hold thy peace; 'tis not best for thee to go with them, 'twould be thy utter ruin and the undoing of our affairs!" His warning came too late; all had heard Katherine speak; and although two forms already lay upon the floor, there were other motives stronger than the thirst for blood, which on a sudden seemed quenched, and faces pale and blood-stained turned upon Buckingham as he coolly and with much dignity lifted Katherine's cloak from the table and placed it about her shoulders, then had the audacity to offer his arm. She ignored it, turned to Constantine and fell upon her knees; he blessed her, then whispered hurriedly in her ear. She arose and pa.s.sed down the b.l.o.o.d.y aisle, which was flanked on either side by an array of shining steel. As she approached the door, it was flung wide by a figure that startled her, so like was it to Lord Cedric's, but the light fell aslant his countenance and as she swept by saw 'twas Sir Julian Pomphrey.

A chaise stood some little distance from the cloister, into which Katherine was placed with great courtesy by his Grace of Buckingham.

She sunk back among the cushions with half-closed eyes; heeding not those that rode at either window of the equipage; she was trying to collect her thoughts and by degrees they shaped themselves and she was thinking of that that had but transpired. First of all, she consoled herself like the selfish girl she was: Cedric would not die; 'twas a sweet consolation, and she smiled; her thoughts dwelling not for a moment on her own conduct that had brought him to suffer such pain.

Then she lay back even more luxuriously as she thought that Sir Julian would not have opened the door for her, had she been going into danger. To tell the truth, she sighed happily in contemplation of further exploit. She grew bolder and bolder, fearing naught but some slight mischance that might prevent her being a Maid of Honour; for never, never could she go back to Cedric after she had made a.s.sertion of love in his ear, and his eyelids had trembled. Nay, nay, she could not bear to look him in the face again. Alas! she made vow she never would. If she was not made a lady of her Majesty's household, she would seek the patronage of some t.i.tled woman, who could help her.

Not for a moment did she think of the perils that surrounded and grew closer about her unprotected self with every turn of the wheels that carried her on.

It appeared now as if all barriers to the King's presence had been levelled and Katherine's hopes matured to confidence. She drew her cloak about her with sedulous care, as if in so doing she wrapped and hid from the whole world her own poor cunning. She found in her lonely condition no embarra.s.sment, conceiving that her position as intermediary between her Church and the State was sufficient reason for her abrupt leaving of home. Sir Julian would doubtless explain matters to the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess, whom she believed were more than half of her faith. They would see she had been highly honoured by being entrusted with a great secret.

It appeared as if the chaise would never cease to lung and swagger over rough, unused roads, and when at last it did mend its way, Katherine had ceased thinking and fallen fast asleep, nor did she wake during hours of travel, until the great coach came to a sudden halt.

She looked through the window. Dawn streaked the East with uncertain intention, knowing not whether to open the day with rain or sunshine.

A little to the left was the dark outline of an inn, nestling upon the threshold of a forest, from the window of which fell aslant the way a line of light. The door of the equipage was opened, and a stately cavalier stood to a.s.sist her down the step. She leapt lightly to the ground, taking the proffered arm, as the way was dark and uneven.

Within the large, cheery room they entered, burnt a crackling fire; for the morning was damp and chilly. Katherine stole a glance at her companion and saw the handsome features of Monmouth. He had removed his masque and now stood uncovered before her.

"I hope Mistress Penwick has not suffered from her long ride?"

"Nay, sir; on the contrary, I feel refreshed." Her manner told him plainly his address was not displeasing to her. His eyes rested amorously upon her; for 'twas naught but strong, healthful youth could predicate such reply and vouch for its a.s.sertion by such rich colouring of cheek, such rare sparkling of eyes and such ripeness of lips.

She sat at the chimney-nook, her satin gown trailing at her side, her cloak thrown over the back of the high chair. Their Graces were engaged aside with the landlord and servants.

"We will rest here until noon, anyway," one said, "and if they have not arrived we will set out without them." Katherine heard and thought 'twas Constance whom they were expecting; and when a table was drawn close to the fire and covers laid for four, there being but three to sit down, Katherine looked askance at the vacant place; the Dukes exchanged glances and his Grace of Buckingham turned to her quickly, introducing himself, then Monmouth, and explained that at the last moment Lady Constance had been prevailed upon to accompany them to London and was expected every moment.

Mistress Penwick had flushed at the presentation of two such n.o.ble names, but at his following a.s.sertion, which corroborated with Constance' own words, made her not a little jealous; for the handsome young Monmouth had already shown his regard (G.o.d pity her innocence) for Lady Constance by giving her a valuable ring, and now had contrived to make her of their party that he might be constantly with her.

She straightway became very sober-minded, vouchsafing no remarks and inviting none. Her pique would have given way had she but heard the Duke's conversation a few moments previous.

"Damme!" said young Monmouth, "I have kidnapped the wrong girl.

'Tis not my fault; thou saidst, Duke, to take any pretty girl from Crandlemar castle, and I have captured Lady Constance, whom, I took it, was the girl in question; and I made up my mind thou shouldst not choose beauty for me. I shall throw her on thy shoulders to dispose of."

The Dukes, bent on provoking the maid to her former manner, began witty tales of wayside inns. Their demeanour was so n.o.ble, their stories so terse and pretty, their converse of such elegant and pure wording, she relaxed and fell into their mood and told what few convent stories she could boast. Their Graces were charmed by her beauty, her sweet resonant voice and the simple and innocent narratives, and not a little pleased by the result of their diplomacy.

When Mistress Penwick had gone from the grand salon the evening before, Lord Cedric was not long in discovering her absence; for his eyes and thoughts ever sought her. He had been greatly stirred by some unknown thing, perhaps that we call premonition ('tis G.o.d's own gift, if we would but heed its warning), but the game being well under way and Constance calling his attention to an immediate and imperative move, he was dissuaded from his inclination to arise and inquire of the maid's absence. It was not for long, however, either the game or his kinswoman's cunning could hold his Lordship from seeking her.

Quietly he beckoned a lackey and whispered aside. A few minutes elapsed when the servant stood by his master, while beyond in the doorway was Janet, who for once in her life was quite pale. Swiftly Lord Cedric strode to her, saying,--

"Hast thou looked for her everywhere, Janet?"

"Aye, my lord, in her own chamber and--"

"But perhaps she has gone to the kitchens or pantries, for hunger doth a.s.sail her not infrequent and at unusual hours."

There was a bit of bitterness and sarcasm in his voice and he ground his heel as he turned about to give orders. In a moment servants were hunting in every direction throughout the castle. It was soon ascertained she was not within the great house. Cedric grew wild with pa.s.sion and tore up and down like one gone mad. Sir Julian could not restrain him, a thing that had not happened heretofore. Angel, his old nurse, was called; she bade him ride forth for her.

At this a horse was made ready, and his lordship mounted and rode away. Sir Julian protesting all the while.

As the clatter of horses' hoofs had fairly died away and Sir Julian stood just where Cedric had left him, debating with his several ideas, a soft touch was laid almost tenderly upon his arm; had it been the soft, slimy trailing of a serpent, 'twould not have so startled him. He turned suddenly and caught the slender hand, with no fine affection,--

"I see it all quite plainly, thou art the cruel spider that hath woven a silken mesh for that innocent child, and thou shalt tell me before the sands of the hour-gla.s.s mark ten moments of time, where has flown Mistress Penwick,--so speak, speak quickly, Constance!"

His voice and manner brooked no delay, and her ladyship thinking that even now Katherine was Cantemir's wife, spoke out with a semblance of injured dignity that melted under Sir Julian's scathing contempt to silly simpering. The n.o.ble character of Sir Julian seemed to silhouette that of her ladyship in all its ugly blackness.