A Falling Star, page 64
part #3 of Wintercombe Series
‘I doubt it,’ Phoebe said drily. ‘As far as I’m concerned, it’s no more than he deserves — he has forfeited any claim of friendship or kinship that we might once have shared.’
‘I can understand Louise’s feelings,’ Silence said, with sadness. ‘Oh, I am appalled and disgusted by Charles’s behaviour. Bui he is still my grandchild, still William’s son, whatever he may have become, and I cannot forget that entirely. And you have to admit that Alex is not completely blameless, either. If Charles has fallen off the edge of rational thought, then it was Alex who pushed him. But we are not here to discuss my nephew’s actions or morals. After all, it is hardly seemly to drag all our family’s past and present indiscretions into the open, even before good friends such as these.’
‘I am not cast in a judgemental mould,’ Sir Hugh remarked. ‘And certainly you will find, in the history of my own family, episodes quite as lurid, if not more so. Not to mention what I could tell you about life at Court… But, since I can be surprisingly discreet on occasion, I assure you that our conversations here will go no further. Mistress Chevalier need have no fear that her cousin’s unusual offer will ever become the subject of gossip through my agency.’
‘I’m glad to hear of it,’ Silence said. ‘The name of St Barbe is not usually notorious, although my nephew has done his best to make it so in the past, and will, if I know him, continue to do so in the future, if allowed. But we have strayed somewhat from the subject in hand. If a pardon at present is out of the question, Sir Hugh, and my grandson’s promises are worthless, then how may we best help Alex?’
‘The man in Newgate may represent our best chance,’ said the courtier. ‘If he were to be persuaded not to give evidence, then Sir Alexander’s position becomes much less precarious. And with only one witness remaining, His Majesty and Sunderland might well become much more ready to sell his freedom to us. I cannot promise anything, Mistress Hellier, but there is no reason yet for despair.’
*
They had given Jem Taylor special treatment at Newgate, as a potential witness for the Crown: a cell to himself, a bed, and blankets. It was hardly comfortable, for he was not rich enough to buy himself further privileges, but at least he did not have to share a cell with many other men in conditions of stinking and infected squalor. And in return for this, and for the pardon which he had been assured would follow, all he had to do was to provide information about Sir Alexander St Barbe.
This he had done, with enthusiasm. He remembered the man clearly, and had taken a dislike to him at the time — an arrogant aristocrat too proud or too cowardly to lend his wholehearted support to the cause, his sort had been the undoing of the Protestant Duke, and Taylor had no compunction in telling all he knew. His copious evidence had been taken down in Wells, and again in Newgate, and when the door of his cell swung open on yet another man in sober, legal black, he thought at first that a third deposition was required of him.
Not so, apparently. For the lawyer had a companion, a foppishly dressed courtier wearing clothes that had cost more money than most men saw in a lifetime, and which immediately aroused Taylor’s resentment. They introduced themselves as Master Cousins, the lawyer, and Sir Hugh Trevelyan, and from the way in which the turnkey left the tiny room, with much obsequious bowing and scraping, they had paid handsomely for the privilege of a private talk with him.
‘You are Jem Taylor?’ said the lawyer. As the prisoner nodded, he gave him a tight smile. ‘Excellent. We do not have much time, so I will come straight to the point. You are, I believe, prepared to give evidence against Sir Alexander St Barbe at his forthcoming trial?’
‘Yes,’ Taylor said, looking at the two men in bewilderment.
‘And, so I understand, you will receive a full and free pardon if you do so?’
‘That’s what they told me,’ Taylor said suspiciously. ‘What’s it to you? Why are you here?’
‘We are here,’ said the courtier pleasantly, ‘to persuade you, Master Taylor, that it might well be to your advantage to change your mind about giving evidence.’
‘To my advantage? It won’t be if I don’t get my pardon,’ Taylor said indignantly. ‘What can you offer me that’s better than that, eh? I don’t want to spend the rest of my days slaving on some hot-as-hell plantation in Barbados — and that’s where I’ll be sent if I don’t oblige them.’
‘You might not be,’ said Trevelyan smoothly. ‘I have considerable influence at Court, you know, and certain resources. Every man has his price, and I am sure that you are no different. Have you a wife? Children?’
‘None.’
‘Then perhaps the chance to start a new life, in another country, with a substantial amount of money to help you set up in business, is attractive to you?’
‘How much are you offering me?’ asked Taylor suspiciously.
‘The sum of five hundred pounds seems fair,’ said the lawyer, with a smile. ‘We are prepared to offer you that, if you in return undertake to withdraw all your testimony against Sir Alexander.’
‘How? They’ve already written down all I told them, and I signed it. That’s evidence in itself, is it not?’
‘It would not be if you were to stand up in court and state that you had given the information under duress, and that you had lied to protect yourself.’
‘Yes, and then what’d happen? I’d be back in here, in the common gaol, and left to rot, or hanged for my pains — and your precious five hundred wouldn’t be much good to me then, would it?’ Taylor glared belligerently at the two men. ‘No — I won’t do it — not for five hundred pounds, nor a thousand. The man’s a rebel, and all I did was tell the truth.’
They argued until the turnkey came back, jingling his bunch of keys to warn of his arrival, but could not dent his obstinacy. If Taylor had had doubts about giving evidence before their attempts to dissuade him, he was utterly determined now, and said so, over and over again, with increasing aggression. As Sir Hugh had feared, the promise of a free pardon far outweighed any bribe, for if Taylor denied the truth of his testimony in such dramatic fashion in open court, the pardon would undoubtedly be withdrawn.
It was no good. In a mood of gloomy resignation, Trevelyan and Cousins left Taylor’s cell, and returned to Westminster to give the news to the people waiting in Bell Court. They had failed to bribe the second witness. The first, Charles, might believe that he could influence the decision to bring Alex to trial, but he was deluding himself. And no one wanted Louise to submit to her cousin’s offer of marriage: the idea was repugnant to them all. The only chance left was, somehow, to persuade the King, or his secretary of state, that it would be worth granting Alex a pardon. And to change their minds, a very large sum of money indeed might have to be offered: perhaps as much as ten thousand pounds, or more.
‘But that’s a vast amount,’ Phoebe said, horrified. ‘I haven’t managed to raise a quarter of that!’
‘It would severely deplete the estate,’ Philip Cousins said. ‘I have already made a detailed study of Sir Alexander’s affairs, and I can tell you with some confidence that a considerable amount of land would have to be sold in order to produce such a sum. Perhaps all the Bristol and Bath properties would fetch what is required — they are valuable assets, and bring in a handsome revenue yearly. For that reason they would be worth a great deal.’
‘But also for that reason, disposing of them would be unfortunate,’ Nick pointed out. ‘And to whom would this bribe be paid? To the King, directly, or to one of his courtiers? Or, God forbid, to Charles?’
‘That at least is not likely,’ Sir Hugh told him. ‘His Majesty has many loyal servants whom he might wish to reward — Lord Sunderland himself, perhaps, or John Churchill. But, I repeat, I was told that at present they do not intend to grant Sir Alexander a pardon, at any price. I will not give up, don’t worry — I will continue to press for his release. But if his estate is capable of producing a very substantial inducement, then perhaps it might be wise to mention the fact. For if the worst happens, and Sir Alexander is tried and condemned, I take it that his cousin Charles St Barbe will inherit?’
‘That is correct,’ said Cousins. ‘Certainly, Wintercombe and the very substantial lands around it are under an entail, which cannot be broken. Perhaps if you could make that fact clear to Lord Sunderland, it might help. If Sir Alexander is executed, the bulk of his wealth will pass to Charles, and the King will be able to lay his hands on very little. But if he is pardoned on payment of a large bribe, then of course the King will gain substantially. So it might well be in His Majesty’s best interests to show mercy, at the right price.’
‘Excellent,’ Sir Hugh said, looking relieved. ‘I hope — I hope very much that you are right. Now that the rebellion is over, the country quiet and passions cooled, vengeance may no longer seem so attractive. It is a shame that we could not persuade that man Taylor, but he was very stubborn, and I must say that I could not blame him. A pardon in the hand, after all, must seem much more valuable than the vague promise of money in the future. But rest assured, ladies, gentlemen,’ he added, looking round at the worried faces, ‘I shall do my very best to bring this matter to a satisfactory conclusion, even if it costs Sir Alexander dear. But it may take some considerable time, I warn you — negotiations such as these always do. And in the meanwhile, of course, poor Mistress Chevalier must keep her cousin dangling for an answer. Do you think that you can do that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Louise said honestly. Her heart quailed at the thought even of seeing Charles again, let alone soothing him with fair words and half-promises, but for Alex’s sake, she must, every day for a year if necessary, until her lover was pardoned, or until her cousin realised that he was being gulled. And when that happened, she dreaded to think what his reaction might be.
*
He came to see her, a week after their chance meeting at the Tower. Those seven days had been busy, yet seemed to pass desperately slowly. She had seen three plays, had gone shopping with Silence and Phoebe in the fashionable streets, had walked in the pleasure-grounds and parks that surrounded the city, and had played with Lukas and James Trevelyan. And on three separate occasions, she had managed to snatch an illicit hour with Alex in his Tower prison, and enjoyed the time, and his lovemaking, to the full. So far, the guards seemed more than willing to turn a blind eye, although they must have realised what was happening: a quantity of silver had proved most effective. And Louise, reckless as ever, eager to snatch all she could while it was still possible, took every opportunity that offered.
She had tried not to think of Charles, but the night before his visit, she lay awake, deciding what to say to him. There was always, despite what Sir Hugh had said, the remote chance that her cousin did in fact wield some influence, that somehow he could decide whether or not his cousin came to trial. And the same love that made her so desperate to enjoy Alex while she could also urged her to take any chance that might conceivably lead to his release.
Even at the cost of marrying another man, one whom she despised? At the cost of driving Alex for ever from her side? She did not know, for she was not yet sufficiently desperate. There was still hope of a pardon, even though it might cost Wintercombe dear. And while that hope remained, she must keep Charles hopeful in his turn.
Besides, the man who had confronted her at the Tower, deluded, passionate, irrational, had frightened her more than she would admit.
He arrived in the middle of the morning, neatly dressed as usual, which was somehow reassuring: were not mad people supposed to take no pride in their appearance? Although of course Alex was undoubtedly sane, yet habitually affected a careless and informal, not to say slovenly, style of dress. The housemaid showed him into the smaller of the two parlours, where they could be private, but she was glad that Phoebe, Lukas and James were within calling distance. Philip Cousins had temporarily returned to Bath, to begin the long and complicated business of raising money for a possible pardon; Sir Hugh was on duty at Whitehall; and her grandparents had gone out to visit Silence’s nephew — her brother’s son and his family.
‘Hullo,’ she said to Charles, with a smile that she could not make sincere. Deliberately, she had worn her plainest and least enticing gown, unfashionable and devoid of allure, but his eyes still glowed at the sight of her. Not for the first time, she wondered why. Alex had seen her as a kindred spirit, a woman as reckless and uninhibited in love as he himself, but Charles, no sophisticate, would surely fail to recognise such alien and exotic characteristics. And she could not believe that her lean body and unfashionably olive-skinned and aquiline face could attract him so strongly, when she did not wish it. As with so much in his present behaviour, it mystified and disturbed her.
‘Hullo, Lou,’ Charles said. He looked at her expectantly, and she realised, with a sinking heart, that during the past week he had convinced himself that today she would give him a favourable answer. And the thought rose again, why did he want to force her into marrying him, if he truly loved her?
‘Sit down,’ she said, indicating a comfortable, upholstered chair by the fire. ‘I have asked for refreshments…there is chocolate, or coffee, or even tea if you would prefer it.’
Charles ignored her suggestions. He took a step forward, and said eagerly, ‘You promised me an answer, Lou — will you marry me? Please say you will!’
‘I didn’t promise an answer today,’ she said, resisting the urge to back away from him. ‘I only said that I would think about it — and I have been thinking, a great deal.’
‘And?’
‘And — I haven’t come to any decision as yet.’
Charles stared at her in disbelief. ‘But, but you said you’d been thinking!’
‘I have — but please understand, Charles, this is very difficult for me… I never wanted to have to make such a choice, and I need more time. Charles, please don’t push me, don’t force me —’
‘I’m not forcing you! But I can’t understand — it seems so obvious —’
‘Not to me, Charles.’ Something occurred to her suddenly, and she snatched upon it, the perfect excuse. ‘My mother brought me up to follow the Protestant religion that was my father’s too, and she sent me to England to find a Protestant husband. In all conscience, I’m most unhappy at the thought of marrying a Catholic.’
‘I wouldn’t try to convert you — I’d let you follow your own worship, you know I would!’
‘But what if we had children? Doesn’t your faith ordain that they be brought up as Catholics too?’
Charles looked bewildered and distressed. He said, ‘Yes, but…but I did not think that it mattered so much to you. Hasn’t your mother herself embraced the faith?’
‘To please my stepfather,’ Louise said. ‘And, as you know, life in France is not easy for Protestants — as it may not be here, in a few years’ time.’
‘All the more reason to rear our children as Catholics,’ Charles said urgently. ‘Louise, why did you not mention this before? I thought you cared little for religion.’
‘You thought wrongly,’ she said, praying that he would accept her reasons for further delay. Certainly, for most women, his religion would be sufficient pretext. But she had never made any secret of her boredom during sermons, her lack of interest in matters theological, and her pleasure-seeking, godless life. Surely he must be suspicious?
He was certainly staring at her very narrowly. He said slowly, ‘Is that the true reason, Lou? Or are you seeking some convenient excuse?’
‘It is the true reason,’ she told him quickly. ‘I know I have not given the impression of being religious — indeed, I am not, as a rule. But I love and respect my mother, and I would not want to go against her wishes, or those of my dead father. And it does matter to me — I was reared a Protestant, and I still hold allegiance to that worship. Despite what you may think, it is no easy matter for me to decide to bring up my children in another faith.’ She swallowed, and stared at him imploringly. ‘Charles — please, I beg of you, give me more time to decide.’
‘But how much more do you want? A day? A week? A month? At least give me some idea!’
‘I don’t know!’ Louise cried. ‘I can’t decide, Charles — I can’t! But if you will tell me where your lodgings are, I promise you that I’ll send word to you as soon as I have an answer for you, one way or the other.’
Charles stared at her in dismay. He said, ‘I would rather come to you here. On Thursday, perhaps?’
‘But I may not have reached a decision by Thursday. If I send word to you, you’ll know for certain that I have my answer ready.’
He still looked doubtful, but finally gave her his direction, in a street off Long Acre that was, she guessed, in a far from wealthy area. Firmly, she told him that he must wait patiently for her reply.
‘I can’t be patient for ever,’ Charles said, and then added, in desperation, ‘I love you, Louise — please decide soon. And if you say yes, I’ll gladly make sure that Alex is set free, if only I can have you for my wife.’
Sincerity shone from his face. To be able to attract two men so very different, so strongly, gave her a strange, not altogether welcome feeling of power. She said, ‘Alex’s freedom is the most important thing. But please, Charles, don’t put pressure on me… I need more time to think.’
To her relief, he accepted her argument at last, and left her. When he had gone she found that her knees were weak, and an overwhelming feeling of revulsion caused the bile to rise in her throat. She longed to fling the door open, and shout her defiance down the stairs after him. Did he really think that he could coerce her into marriage by such means? Was he so adrift from the real world that he imagined a happy future could be built on such foundations? Did he seriously expect her simply to forget Alex, once he had been freed, and go joyfully to wed a man who had betrayed his cousin for reasons of personal gain and vengeance, and was now forcing her into this intolerable situation?
