CHAPTER X
A NOBLE KINSMAN
As the evening drew on Oliver retired, accompanied by the maid-servant, to seek a room in one of the neighbouring houses which advertised that they had these commodities at the service of those who required them; and on the latter returning to say that Mr. Quin had found a room hard by which he considered suitable, my mother and I sat over the fire discussing the past, the present, and the future.
"Something," she said, "must be done for Mr. Quin, and that at once. For his kindness we may well be indebted to him, nay, must, since he seems of so noble a nature that he would be wounded at any repayment being offered. But for the money which he has spent-that must instantly be returned."
"I doubt his taking it," I said. "He regards it as mine since he has come by it entirely through saving me from my uncle's evil designs. And, indeed, if you do but consider, dear mother, so it is."
"Nay," she said. "Nay. He would have earned the money easily enough had he been false to you and put you in that dreadful ship the Dove-gracious Heavens, that such a vile craft should have so fair a name! – surely we must not let him lose any of that money by being true and staunch to you."
"Give it back to him, then," I exclaimed with a laugh, "if you can persuade him to take it. Of which, however, as I said before, I doubt me much."
"Alas!" she replied, "I cannot give it back to him, but interest must be made with the Marquis to take up your cause and help you, as he seems well disposed to do now. For myself, until the villain, Robert, is defeated, I have but the hundred guineas a year left me by my uncle-a bare pittance only sufficing to pay for these rooms, the physician's account and my food."
"Shall I not see the Marquis?" I asked; "surely I should go to him and tell him all."
"Thou shalt see him soon enough," she said. "I have acquainted him with the fact of all I knew-no human creature could have guessed or thought how much more there is to tell, nor how wicked can be the heart of man, ay! even though that man be one's own flesh and blood-and also that you might soon be expected to reach London. And he has sent two or three times a week to know if you had yet arrived: doubtless he will send again to-morrow. He lives but a stone's throw from here, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, on the north side."
At ten o'clock my mother told me she must go to her bed for she was tired and never sat up later, and she rang for Molly, the maid, to ask if the small room in which she kept her dresses and other apparel had been prepared for me as she desired. Hearing that it was in readiness, she told me that a good night's rest would do me good also, and prepared to retire. And now for the first time, as she rose to depart, I saw what inroads her disease had made upon her and that she who, when I first remember her, stood up a straight, erect young woman, was much bent and walked by the aid of a crutch-stick, and that one of her hands shook and quivered always.
"Yet strange it is," she said, observing my glance, "that there come moments when I am free from all suffering and affliction, when I can stand as straight as I stood at the altar on my wedding day, and when this hand is as steady as your own. Nay, I can almost will it to be so. See!" and she held it out before me and it did not quiver, while next, seizing a huge brass candelabra that stood upon the table, she lifted that and held it at arm's-length, and neither did that quiver nor was any of the hot wax from the lighted candles spilt.
"Ah! courage, mother," I said, "courage! You have but to will it and you are strong. There is enough strength in that arm, which can lift a candlestick as heavy as this, to do anything it needs. You could hold a runaway horse with it, or keep off a dog flying at your throat, or-or-" I went on with a laugh at my silly thoughts, "thrust a sword through a man's body if you desired to do so."
She was bending to kiss me for the last time that night while I spoke, but as I uttered the final words of my boyish speech she stopped and drew herself up so that she was now erect, and then, in a voice that seemed altered somewhat, she said:
"'Thrust a sword through a man's body if I desired to do so! Thrust a sword through a man's body!' My sweet, such deeds ill befit a woman. Yet there are two men in this world through whose bodies I would willingly thrust a sword if they stood before me and I had one to my hand. I mean thy uncle Robert, the false-faced, black-avised villain, and that other and most despicable liar, his friend and creature, Wolfe Considine."
Yet, even as she spoke, her hand fell powerless by her side and commenced to shake and quiver once more, when, putting her other upon my arm, she bade me Good Night and blessed and kissed me and went to her room.
I lay awake some time in my own bed thinking on what she had said, for well I knew what had prompted her to speak as she had done. I knew that, outside the evil and the wrongs that my uncle had testified to me, there was that other far greater wrong to her which no honest woman could bear; the base insinuations that Considine had uttered about his intimacy with her, insinuations partly made to gratify his own vanity, and partly, as I judged, to enable Robert St. Amande to cast doubt upon my birth. And I thought that, knowing as she did know, of these horrid villainies, it was not strange she should feel and speak so bitterly. These my musings, with some sounds of revellers passing by outside singing and hooting ribald songs-though one with a sweet voice sang the old song "Ianthe the Lovely," most bewitchingly-kept me awake, as I say, some time, but at last I slumbered in peace within my mother's shelter. Yet not without disturbance through the night either, for once on turning in my bed I heard her call to me to know if all was well, and once I heard her murmur, "The villains, oh! the villains," and still once more I heard her sob, "Oh! Gerald, Gerald, if thou would'st but have had it so!" by which I knew that she was thinking of my misguided father and not of me.
In the morning as we sat at our breakfast of chocolate and bread-with, for me, another plate of the corned beef which, my mother told me, the landlady put up in great pickling tubs when the winter was approaching and, with her family, lived upon for many months, serving out to the lodgers who wished for them fair-sized platesful at two pence each-there came a demure gentleman who asked of Molly if the young lord had yet arrived, or if news had been heard of him.
"It is the Marquis's gentleman," my mother whispered to me, "and, observe, dear one, he speaks of you as 'the young lord.'" Then, raising her voice a little, she bade Molly show him in as his lordship had arrived.
When he had entered the room and made a profound obeisance to her and another to me, he said that, since I was now in London, he had orders to carry me to the Marquis in a coach which he had outside, for he was ready to receive me, being always in his library by eleven o'clock to grant interviews to those who had business With him.
"We will attend his lordship," my mother said. "I presume, Mr. Horton, there can be no objection to my going too. And I feel well this morning; a sight of my child's dear face has benefited me much; I am quite capable of reaching the coach."
Mr. Horton replied that he knew of no reason whatever why her ladyship should not go too, and so, when my mother had put on a heavy cloak and riding hood, for the morning was cold and frosty, we set forth. But, previous to starting, I ran to the house where Oliver had got a room and, finding him sitting in a parlour eating his breakfast, I told him where we were bound.
He rejoiced to hear the news I brought him and offered his escort, saying he would go on the box of the coach; but I told him this was unnecessary, and so I left, promising him that, when I returned, I would come and fetch him and we would sally forth to see some of the sights of the town. Yet, so faithful was he, that, although he complied with my desire that he should not accompany us, I found out in the course of the morning that he followed the coach to the Marquis's house and there kept guard outside while we were within.
My kinsman's library, to which we were shown by several bowing footmen to whom Mr. Horton had consigned us, plainly testified that we were in a room which was used for the purpose from which it took its name-that it was indeed a library and was so considered. Around the apartment on great shelves were books upon books of all subjects and all dates, and of all classes of binding. Some there were bound in velvet, some in silk as well as vellum, leather and paper: some were so large that a woman could scarce have lifted them, and some so small that they would easily have fitted into a waistcoat pocket. And then, too, there were maps and charts hanging on the walls of counties and countries, and one of London alone-a marvellous thing showing all the streets and fields as well as principal buildings of this great city! – while, when I saw another stretched on a folder and designated, "A chart of all the known possessions of His Majesty's Colonies of America," you may be sure my eye sought out, and my finger traced, the spot where Virginia stood.
"Tell him everything, my dear," said my mother, "as you have told it to me, and fear nothing. He is just if stern, and, above all, hates fraud and trickery. Moreover, he has forgiven me for being of those who espoused, and still espouse, the fallen house of Stuart, and is not unfriendly to me. Also, remember, he must now be our only hope and trust on earth, so do thy best to impress him favourably with thee."
I promised her that I would indeed do all she bade me and, then, while I was turning over a most beautiful book called "Sylva, or a Discourse concerning Forest Trees," by a gentleman named Evelyn, a footman opened the door and the Marquis of Amesbury stood before us.
"Louise," he said, going up to her and taking her hand, while, at the same time, he kissed her slightly on the cheek, "I am glad to see that you can come forth again. I trust you are more at ease." Then, turning to me, he gazed down and said, "So, this is your child," and he placed his hand upon my head. As he did so, and after I had made my bow, I gazed at him and saw a tall gentleman of over sixty years of age, I should suppose, very lean and very pale, clad in a complete suit of black velvet and with but little lace at either breast or wrists. The gravity of his face was extreme, though he looked not unkind; and, truly, his manner had not been so up to now.
"Well," he said, when he had motioned me to a seat and was himself standing before us with his back to the huge fire that roared up the chimney, "well, so you claim to be the present Viscount St. Amande and my heir when it pleases God to take me. And you, Louise," turning to her, "proclaim that he is so?"
"Can a mother not know her own child, Charles, or have so hard a heart as not to wish to see him enjoy his own?"
"Humph! It hath been done. My Lady Macclesfield, though 'tis true she earned the contempt of all, ever called her son, the wretched man, Savage, an impostor; and endeavoured to work his ruin, in which desire she came at last near to success, since this very month he has stood at the Old Bailey on a charge of murder. Yet, Louise, thou art not as she was."
"Nay, God forbid! The wicked wanton! Yet I know not-there are those who have vilified me for their own wicked ends and said the worst that scoundrels can say of any woman. But, Charles, you are honest and have ever held a character for justice amongst men, and, although you loved not my uncle nor my kin, you would not think evil of me. You could not, oh! you could not!"
He looked down gravely at her, but still again with kindness in his eyes, and then he said: "No, no. Never, Louise, never. You were always too good and true, too fond of the unhappy man to have been aught but faithful. And, although I opposed his marriage with you, it was never because of your own self but because of your uncle's principles. Had he had his way, which I thank God was not permitted, he would have brought back the false-hearted, grieving Stuarts to the throne; he would have cursed his country and its laws and religion. But for you, Louise, for you, child, I never had aught of distrust, but only pity deep and infinite that you should wed with such a poor thing as my own dead kinsman and heir, this lad's father."
"God bless you," said she, seizing his hand with her well one and kissing it ere he could draw it away, "God bless you for your words as I bless Him for having raised you up to be even as a father to the fatherless-to my poor fatherless boy. And, Charles, if those whom you loved so well, your own wife and child, had not been taken from you, I would pray night and day for them as I pray for you."
He turned away and passed his hand swiftly across his eyes as she mentioned those whom he had once loved so dearly and who, as all the world knows, were both torn from him in one short week! 'Twas by one of those dreadful visitations of smallpox which carries off kings and queens impartially with their humbler subjects, as was the case fifteen or sixteen years before, when it swept away the Emperor of Germany and the Dauphin and Dauphiness of France as well as their child, and also ravaged both those great countries.
Then, turning back to us, he said:
"But now, ere anything else can be done, I must know all that has occurred since your husband's death. Something I have heard from you, Louise, and something from other sources yet there is much I cannot comprehend. Nay, more, there are some things that seem incredible. It is said he was buried by the subscription of a few friends-many of them the lowest of the low, with whom he in life wassailed and caroused-yet, how could it be?"
"He was penniless, Charles," my mother sobbed; "penniless. He had nothing."
"Penniless! Penniless! Nay. Nay. His brother was here in London at the time and I bade him let Gerald have all necessaries in reason, and I dispatched to Mr. Considine a hundred guineas for his funeral by a sure hand. I could not let the heir to my title-"
"What!" rang out my mother's voice clear and distinct, while I stared at the Marquis as though doubting whether he were bereft of his senses or I of my hearing. "What, you sent money by and to them for him? Oh! Charles, never did he receive one farthing of it."
"So I have cause to fear. And I know not what is to be done with thy brother-in-law. He seems to be a rogue of the worst degree."
But now she fixed her eyes upon him and exclaimed:
"You say so, knowing only the little that you do know, that he and his base servant, Considine-Considine," she, repeated, "Considine, the traducer of my fame whom yet, if God spares me, I will have a heavy reckoning with; you know only that they have conspired to defraud my child of his rights, nay, more, of his honest name. That they have stolen the money you sent to succour my wretched husband in his last days and to bury him as he should be buried according to his rank and fashion when he was dead. That you know, Charles, Marquis of Amesbury, kinsman of this my child, but you do not know all. Will you hear their further villainies, will you know all that they have attempted on him; will you do this, you who are powerful and great, and then will you stretch forth your right hand and crush, as you can crush, these wretches to the earth while, at the same time, you also stretch forth that hand to shelter and protect this innocent child, your heir?"
She had spoken as one inspired by her wrongs; her eyes had flashed and her frame had quivered as might have quivered that of a pythoness as she denounced some creature who had outraged her gods, but the effort had been too much for her weak frame-she could sustain it no further, and, sinking back into her chair, she was but able to gasp out in conclusion, "For his sake, Charles, for the sake of an innocent child. For his sake."
Upon which the Marquis, after trying to calm her, said gently:
"If there are other villainies to hear, I will hear them, yet it seems impossible that more can remain behind. And, Louise," continued the old man, touching her arm very gently, "dry your tears. I cannot bear to see you shed them. Nor have you need. The boy shall be righted. I promise you."
"Tell him all, Gerald; tell him all," my mother sobbed. "Oh! it would be enough to melt a heart of stone, let alone one so kind as his."
So I told the Marquis everything that has here been set down.
CHAPTER XI
IMPRESSED
"Many as are the villainies which I have known of in my life," said the Marquis, when the tale was told, "never have I known aught such as this. It appears incredible. Incredible that such things can be, and in these days. Heavens and earth! – in the days of King George the Second, when law and order are firmly established." Then he fell a-musing and lay back in the deep chair before the fire in which he had sat during the whole of my recitation, and nodded his head once or twice, and muttered to himself. After which he spake aloud and said, "And the hundred guineas that I sent to bury Gerald; they were those, I imagine, which the villain O'Rourke paid to your protector, Quin. Humph! 'Tis well they have fallen into the hands of an honest man again."
It was at the collation which he offered to my mother and me, for it was now nearly two o'clock, that he once more took up the subject and spake out his heart to us, but before he did so he bade the footmen who had waited at table begone and leave us alone. And, in truth, I was glad enough to see these immense creatures leave the room and cease their ministrations to our wants, for they had wearied me, and, I think, my mother too. All our hopes were centred in what the Marquis would do to espouse my cause, so you may well imagine that the roasts appealed not to us nor did the sweetmeats and iced froth and fruit, nor the wines which they pressed upon us. But when these menials were gone, he, as I say, again went on with the subject that engrossed all our thoughts.
"The first thing to do is," he said, "to obtain the certificate of the child's birth-of that of course there can be no difficulty; then proof must be forthcoming that this lad is that child-that, I imagine, can also be obtained?"
"There are hundreds who can testify to it," my mother answered. "The boy's nurse still lives; he had many tutors both in Ireland and in London; Mr. Quin, his benefactor, remembers when his father and I used to drive into New Ross with him; and Mr. Kinchella, a gentleman at Dublin University, does the same. Charles, there can be no doubt of many witnesses being able to testify."
"That is well. Then the next most important thing is that I should acknowledge him as my heir, which I will publicly do-"
"Again I say-God bless you, Charles. God ever bless you!"
" – and," he went on, "in this my house. Next week I have a gathering here of many of the peers who affect our interests," – he was speaking of the Whig party. "Sir Robert sits firm now, and may do so for years to come. Yet 'tis ever wise to guard against aught the Tories may attempt. And I expect him to come as well as the Duke of Devonshire, and Lord Trevor-to them all you shall be presented. And 'tis well that Mr. Robert St. Amande affects not our side, he will be easier to deal with."
"What will you do to frustrate him?" my mother asked.
"Do?" the Marquis replied. "Why, first I will proclaim him to all as an utter villain who has falsely assumed a title to which he has no claim. Next, the new Irish Lord Chancellor, Wyndham, – who is indebted somewhat to me for his appointment-must be told to reverse his favours to the scoundrel, and this boy's name must be entered in his place. But next week when he has met my friends we can do more."
"And for that other unhappy one-that wretched Roderick?" said my mother, whose woman's heart could not but feel pity for the miseries to which he was now subjected, to which he must be subjected, "can naught be done for him? Could he not be rescued from the dreadful fate into which he has been plunged?"
"Doubtless," the Marquis replied. "Doubtless. Those who are sold to the planters, as distinguished from those who are convicts, can easily be bought back. Only it must be those of his own kind who do it. His worthy father seems to have some choice spirits in his pay; he may easily send out Mr. Considine or Mr. O'Rourke with a bagful of guineas to purchase him back again. For our side," – and my mother and I told each other that night how good it was to hear our powerful relative identify himself with us as he did-"for our side we cannot do anything. Moreover, we are supposed to know nothing."
"Yet, my lord," I replied, "we do know, and they know we do. Ere my uncle fainted in Considine's arms he had heard and knew all."
"Yes," the Marquis replied, "yes. But he also knew that your friend, Quin, held his indemnity for what was done. So, rely upon it, he will, nay, he must, hold his peace. Kidnapping, or authorising kidnapping, is punished, and righteously punished, for 'tis a fearful crime, so heavily by our laws that your uncle stands in imminent deadly peril for what he has done. And, remember, he is not a peer, therefore he has no benefit to claim. Rest assured that though he has lost his son he will never proclaim what has happened nor divulge a word on the subject. Though, that he may send agents to Virginia to endeavour to obtain his recall is most probable, since, wretch as he is, there must be some heart in his bosom for his own child."
So thus, as you may now observe, that great man, my relative, was won over to my cause, and already it seemed as though the champion whom dear Oliver had prayed that the Lord might raise up for me had been discovered. And vastly happy were all of us, my mother, myself, and that faithful friend, at thinking such was the case. So happy indeed were we that we made a little feast to celebrate the Marquis's goodness, and, as he had given my mother a purse with a hundred guineas in it to be spent on anything I should need, we had ample means for doing so. We decorated her humble parlour with gay flowers from the market hard by, we provided a choice meal or so to which we three sat down merrily, all of us drinking the Marquis's health in champaign; we even persuaded my mother to be carried to the theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, close to Denzil Street, where from a box we witnessed Mr. Congreve's affecting play, "The Mourning Bride," at which my mother wept much.
Unfortunately, as I have now to tell, these joys were to be of but short duration; the time had not yet arrived for our happiness to be complete and on a sure foundation; both of us were still to be trouble-haunted and I to be tossed about by Fate, and, as it seemed, never to know peace.
Oliver had a friend and countryman who lived on Tower Hill in a considerable way of business in the cattle trading line, and he, being desirous of seeing this friend so that he might thereby, perhaps, be put into some way of earning a livelihood in the trade he understood, made up his mind to go and visit him. That I should go too was a natural conclusion, and, indeed, had we not gone about together I should have got no necessary exercise at all, since my mother was so confined to the house, while, on his part, he knew little of the town-nay, nothing-so that I was really a guide to him. Thus together we trudged about, looking for all the world like some young gentleman and his governor, since I was generally dressed in my fine clothes bought in Dublin, while Quin wore a sober suit of black which he, too, had purchased. Many a sight did we see in company in this manner, for both of us were curious as children and revelled much in all the doings of the wondrous great city-we went together to the Abbey, we walked to Execution Dock and Kennington Common to witness men hanged, or hanging, or, as the mob then called such things, "the step and string dance"; to see where the noblemen play bowls at Mary-le-bone Gardens in the summer and frequent the gaming tables in the winter; to the Spring Garden at Knightsbridge; and countless other places too numerous to write down.
But amongst all these our walks and excursions it befell, as I have said, that one fine frosty day Oliver and I decided to go into the city to Tower Hill, there to see his friend, the dealer. We set out therefore along Fleet Street, that wondrous place where the writers for the news-sheets and letters dwell, and where we could not but laugh at the other strange characters we encountered. First there flew out a fellow, whom I have since learnt they call a "plyer," who bawled at us to know if either of us wanted a wife, since they had blooming virgins to dispose of or rich widows with jointures. Then a woman screamed to us from the brandy-shop, "We keeps a parson here who'll do your business for you," while, dreadful to narrate, as all this was going on, there reeled by a drunken divine swearing that he would have more drink at the "Bishop Blaize's Head," since he had married three couples that day at five shillings a brace and had more to tie up on the morrow.
Resisting, however, all these importunities, though we could not resist glancing at the advertisements of such things in the windows, such as, "Without Imposition. Weddings performed cheap here"; or, "The Old and True Register. Without Imposition. Weddings performed by a clergyman educated at the University of Oxford, chaplain to a nobleman," we went along and so, at last, we came to Tower Hill.
"And now," said Oliver, "let's see for the abode. The number is twenty-seven, this is fourteen-it cannot be afar. Wil't come in Gerald and show thyself to my friend, who will surely gape for wonder at seeing a real lord; or go into the tavern? Or, stay, yonder seems a decent coffeehouse where, doubtless, you may read a journal or so; or what?"
I was about to say I would go with him and, because I was in a merry mood, exclaimed that I would treat his friend to so gay a sight as a real Irish lord when, alas! my boyish attention was attracted by a raree-show fellow who came along, followed by a mob of children of all ages, many grown-up men and women, and his servant or assistant. This latter bore upon his back the long box in which his master kept his stock-in-trade and apparatus, and, as they drew near, was cursing vehemently the crowd who wished them to exhibit their tricks and wonders. "What," he muttered, "show you the fleas that run at tilt when there is not so much as a groat amongst you all, or the hedgehog that can divine the stars, or the wonderful snake, for which we paid twenty Dutch ducatoons at Antwerp-and without payment, the devil take you all!"
But here, while still the children screamed at him and his master and the elders jeered, his eyes fell on me standing at the hither end of the street after Oliver had gone in to the house he wanted, and, advancing down it, he said: "Now here is a young gentleman of quality or I ne'er saw one, whose purse is lined with many a fat piece I warrant. Noble, sir," addressing me, and speaking most volubly, "will you not pay to see our show? We can exhibit you the wonderful snake and divining hedgehog, the five-legged sheep and six-clawed lobster, the dolls who dance to the bagpipes' merry squeak and the ape who scratched the Cardinal's nose in Rome. Or my master will knock you a knife in at one cheek and out at t'other without pain or bleeding, swallow dull cotton and blow out fire or make a meal of burning coals, or by dexterity of hand fill your hat full of guineas from an empty bottle. And then again, noble sir, we have pills that are good against an earthquake, so that the worst cannot disturb you; or, again, an elixir which shall prevent the lightning from harming you even tho' it strike you fair, or still again-"
But here I interrupted him, crying, "Nay! nay! I want not your pills or elixir, but I have ten minutes to await a friend, so show me your curious beasts and I will give you a shilling."
"And let us see, too," the mob cried. "We must see, too."
"Ay," said the master of the raree-show taking the word up while he opened his box to earn my shilling, "Ay, you must see, too, though devil a fadge have you got to pay. Yet, ere long, will I hire a booth where none can see who pay not. I'll lead this dog's out-o'-door life no longer."
Yet neither was it foredoomed for me or any of the vagrant crew around to see the mountebank's treasures. For as he produced his snake, a poor huddled up little thing that looked as though it had neither life nor venom in it, we heard a shouting and bawling at the top end of the street and the screams of women; and presently saw advancing down it about fifteen sailors fighting their way along, while still the women howled at them and they endeavoured to secure all the men around them.
"The Press! The Press!" called out the raree men and our crowd together, while all fled helter-skelter, leaving me the only one standing there all by myself, so that, in a moment, I was surrounded by the press-gang, for such I soon knew it to be. "Your age, name and calling," said a man to me who seemed to be the leader and was, as I later learned, the lieutenant in command. He was a poor-looking fellow very much unlike all ideas I had conceived of His Majesty's naval officers, and, unlike the officers of the army, had no uniform to wear. Therefore, since he was one of those poor creatures who are officers in the navy without money or interest and with mighty little pay, it was not strange that his clothes were shabby, his boots burst out, and his hat a thing that would not have done credit to a scarecrow, though it had a gold cockade, much tarnished, in it.
"That is my affair," I retorted, "and none of yours. Pass on and leave me."