CHAPTER V

A WOMAN'S STRENGTH

The council of nine was sitting at Whitehall waiting for news from the English Fleet, which, under command of Lord Torrington, had sailed out from Plymouth to meet the French.

The Queen sat at the head of the table, as usual silent and as usual watchful; at her right hand Lord Caermarthen, at her left Lord Devonshire, the others along the table, and at the foot Sir John Lowther.

The room was very handsome: the walls of varied-coloured tapestry, the cornices of gilt wood, and the floor covered with rugs from Persia. Through the tall, majestic window might be seen a view of housetops and a little turret with a bell clear against a sky of flaming summer blue.

Mary was seated in a heavy chair with crimson cushions; she wore a violet dress of stiff damask satin and a petticoat flounced with lace; her arms were covered to the wrist with ruffles of muslin, and she held a long chicken skin fan with ivory mounts and an emerald in the handle; her shortsighted and narrowed eyes dwelt anxiously and critically on the faces of these men in whose hands she, and England, lay.

Facing her, Sir John Lowther, commonplace, courtly, agitated, was stabbing the polished table with a broken quill; to his left sat Edward Russell, impatient, blond, swaggering; to his right, Pembroke, gentle, hesitating, reserved. Godolphin, thin and hectic, was, as ever, mute and self-effacing; his companion was the restless, feverish, and volatile Monmouth, extravagantly dressed and fiery in manner.

Opposite him sat the gloomy honourable Nottingham, and another man, an object of peculiar dislike and suspicion both to the King and Queen, John Churchill, recently created Earl of Marlborough.

Of all the company he was the most remarkable in appearance--young, tall, of extreme good looks, though florid and flamboyant in type, of a calm, easy, and courtly demeanour, but obviously not an aristocrat nor anything of a great gentleman, but rather of a kind of vulgarity, even in his richly coloured beauty, and in that different to the other ministers, who were all of noble appearance; he was dressed in scarlet silk and wore a very rich sword-belt; he sat opposite the window, and the sunlight made his splendour glitter.

My Lord Devonshire was of another and more winning type of handsomeness; his young face was refined and delicate in feature, yet expressed an ardent strength and a proud decision; he looked continually at the Queen, and seemed, with the exception of Caermarthen, to be the only one who had much sympathy or regard for her position.

"The conspirators----" began Nottingham heavily. He was drawing up a list of the suspected names; he had industrious spies, as the Whigs had found to their cost.

"Well, my lord?" asked Godolphin imperturbable. He had made his peace with King James himself, but was calm in the knowledge that he had been far too cunning to leave evidence of it in anybody's hands.

Nottingham pursed his lips; he added a name to his list, and handed the paper with a significant look to Russell, who shrugged and passed it on to Monmouth.

"These are people to be put under arrest, are they not?" asked that nobleman.

"Yes," said Nottingham dryly. "Shall I leave that last name?"

The paper was now in Lord Marlborough's hands; he smiled serenely, and put up his glass.

Mary spoke, and her woman's voice sounded strangely in the council chamber.

"What is this name?"

Marlborough inclined with great deference towards her.

"The Earl of Clarendon, Your Majesty."

The other councillors were silent; he was the Queen's uncle, and even the most callous of them felt some pity for her dilemma. Devonshire cast an indignant look on Marlborough, whom he hated, but nothing could put that gentleman out of countenance.

"I will erase the name," muttered Nottingham.

The Queen put out her hand in a gesture to stay him.

"No, my lord. I know," she said, with great dignity, "and you all know, that my Lord Clarendon is far too guilty to be left out."

"A wise decision, Your Majesty," remarked Marlborough calmly.

She set her lips in disdain of him, and turned to the haggard Lord President on her right. She had never liked Caermarthen, even though she owed her marriage largely to him, but she softened to him now; since the King's departure he had worked incessantly. He was in extreme ill-health, and she believed he was loyal.

"My lord," she said, "should we not soon have news from Lord Torrington? It is twenty-four hours since he had our orders to fight."

"We are better waiting for that news than listening to it, Your Majesty," said Admiral Russell bluntly.

Mary knew that he was largely inspired by professional jealousy.

"Oh, sir," she answered, "we will have more trust in the man on whom the fate of three kingdoms dependeth."

"Madam," said Lord Devonshire, "I do not think Lord Torrington a man to be intrusted with the fate of three kingdoms."

Mary answered with animation.

"That censure hath been passed before, my lord--and at the privy council--but since we must trust my lord let us pray God he will not fail us."

"He would not like those orders to fight," exclaimed Edward Russell, who had been the main means of sending them. "A cautious man!"

"One who was not cautious should have been sent to urge him!" cried Monmouth, who was angry that his entreaty to be permitted to join the fleet had been refused.

Mary pressed her fan to her lips and sat mute; in truth, the agony she endured was not to be soothed with words. Her whole being was strung for the arrival of the next letters, not only from Torrington, who was now the sole defence of England, but from Ireland, where she knew her father and husband were rapidly approaching face to face.

"Maybe," said the Lord President, "Torrington never got Your Majesty's dispatch----"

Monmouth, who was discussing with Godolphin the details of Fuller's confession (that conspirator having turned informer to save his neck), swung round violently in his seat.

"Dear Lord!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean that he may be still idle at St. Helens?"

"It may be--the advice packets last reported that he had not moved, and that M. de Tourville was beyond the Needles."

"Oh, were I on board," cried Monmouth, "there should be a battle--I pledge my life on it!"

Mary was perfectly pale; she still held her fan to her lips and sat silent, so motionless that it seemed as if she scarcely breathed.

"He had positive orders to fight," said Godolphin.

"Oh, my lord," answered Marlborough sweetly, "is it not believed that this invasion is in concert with these plots among the malcontents?"

"Do you mean that Lord Torrington is a traitor?" asked Caermarthen bluntly; he gave Marlborough a glance that conveyed he thought him one.

The Queen dropped her fan and clenched it tightly in her right hand.

"Gentlemen, this is no time for these insinuations, with the enemy on the coast. We," she said proudly and courageously--"we trust all those in our service, and have faith in God who hath it all in His keeping."

She paused; the effort of speaking had brought the colour into her face, her eyes sparkled, and the western sunlight trembled in her auburn hair. They waited silently, watching her with curiosity and some judgment. She was principally conscious of the malignant smiling eyes of my Lord Marlborough.

"This is our decision," she continued, with unfaltering voice--"that Admiral Russell and my Lord Monmouth go down to the coast, and there join the fleet, and give our commands to Lord Torrington that, for the honour of England, he fight the French, whom he must now outnumber since his juncture with the Dutch. My lords, the council is over."

It was the first time that she had given her commands to her advisers, almost the first time she had announced her opinion on their discussions; but she left them no chance to doubt that she meant what she said; she had the manner of Kings.

"Let these disloyal subjects," she added, pointing to Lord Nottingham's list, "be at once lodged in the Tower."

She rose, gave her hand to Lord Caermarthen, and descended from her high chair with a soft heavy sound of silks.

"England is Your Majesty's debtor," said Lord Devonshire, bowing low.

She answered with her sweet stateliness.

"I do what a woman can, my lord."

"Your Majesty doth what few women would," said Caermarthen warmly; he had for her a real and deep devotion.

She turned as if she would have rebuked his compliment, but checked herself at sight of his worn and ghastly face, livid with fatigue and anxiety.

"I am like your lordship," she answered kindly, "I am fond of my country."

He coloured with pleasure, and bent over her fine hand.

"Now I must go wait for letters." She smiled and left them with her usual little formal salutation.

Devonshire looked round at the other councillors.

"There is more courage in that lady than in most of us," he said gently. "I did mark the tears lying in her eyes even while she smiled."

"She will need her courage," answered Caermarthen briefly; "for seldom hath the country been in the pass it is now."

Mary had gone no farther than the antechamber with the French tapestries and crystal candelabra when she was met by the news that the Duke of Shrewsbury required an immediate audience.

Her face hardened; she could not forgive Shrewsbury either his secret treachery or the vexation he had caused the King by his sudden resignation; she hesitated, then commanded his presence.

When he entered she was standing before the great gilt mantelpiece, very cold and contained.

"What is the reason of your coming, my lord?" she said.

His gentle face was flecked with feverish colour in the cheeks, he drew his breath sharply, his riding-suit was dusty; indeed, he was spent with rapid riding.

"Madam," he answered, "upon this news--that M. de Tourville rode at the Isle of Wight--I am come at once to London to offer Your Majesty my services--my sword----"

"You, my lord!" exclaimed Mary.

"Madam," he said, "for the second time all I have is at the service of His Majesty."

She looked at him steadily; she could not doubt his sincerity. He was again the man he had been in '88. Danger struck a fine spirit out of him, she thought, and she the more deplored his miserable defection of late.

"Ah, my lord," she said sadly, "when His Majesty wished for your services you refused them----"

"Then," cried Shrewsbury, "the French were not on the coasts."

She saw in his eagerness a desperate remorseful desire to make atonement, and further softened.

"I am in such a strait that I can refuse no offers," she said; "but, sir, I have no work for you."

"Send me to the Fleet, Madam--put me under my Lord Marlborough with the army. I will serve as a volunteer--as anything----"

"Had you shown this spirit before His Majesty went to Ireland I had been more grateful," Mary replied gently. "But I am glad to know of your loyalty, my lord."

"Madam, this is an urgent crisis--there is almost an open panic--as I rode up from Epsom, the people came running out of their cottages crying that the French were coming; in the country all are looking out their arms----"

The Queen interrupted.

"Some, I fear, with the design of joining the invader."

"Why, God forbid!" he cried.

"I have commanded the Guards down to Devon to seize the arms and houses of suspect persons," said Mary quietly; "and to-night, my lord, all the leaders of this Fuller plot will be in prison--yea, even to my Lord Clarendon."

"Ah!" exclaimed Shrewsbury sharply.

Mary fixed him with a proud but kind gaze.

"There are many others whose guilt I know who have not been arrested," she said slowly.

The young Duke pressed his hand to the embroidered ruffles over his bosom.

"Why is Your Majesty thus tender with these--traitors?" he asked, in a trembling voice.

"It is my policy," she answered quietly. "I am only a woman, and must trust to instinct. My lord, I will ask your advice about this matter."

"My advice?" he stammered, very pale.

"Yes. Supposing a great nobleman who had finely served His Majesty in '88--one whom His Majesty loved and trusted--had, in a moment of weakness, of temptation, betrayed him, and then, being remorseful, I think, left his service--supposing, I say, that this gentleman came forward now, with offers of help, should I not trust him?"

Shrewsbury stood mute.

"I think I should," said Mary softly. "He is an English gentleman, and he would not take advantage of my great difficulties to intrigue against me; he would not take advantage of my confidence to lead his people to join the French--am I not right?"

The Duke raised his head; his face was pitifully trembling.

"Your Majesty's generosity would not be misplaced," he answered hoarsely.

"I am glad you think so, my lord. I may trust him, then?"

"I pledge my life you may," said Shrewsbury ardently.

"Thank you, my lord--I shall find you at your town house?"

"I shall wait there to receive the commands of Your Majesty."

Mary moved a little from the mantelpiece and held out her hand.

Shrewsbury went on one knee to kiss the soft fingers.

"I hope to see you at court once more," she said, with a pretty smile. "I hope you will serve the King again when we are through this difficult pass."

He answered from his heart--

"I would serve His Majesty with my life."

When he had gone Mary went to the window, for the light was beginning to fade, and drew from her waist a crystal watch enamelled with white violets.

It was nearly time for her supper. She resided now at Whitehall to please the people, and to please the people dined nearly always in public, a practice the King detested and could scarcely ever be brought to do; that penance was over for to-day, but she had other disagreeable duties to perform.

She rang the handbell on an ormolu bureau between the windows, and asked the Dutch usher who came if Lord Feversham was without.

He had, it seemed, been long awaiting an audience.

The Queen commanded him to be brought to her, and seated herself in the yellow brocade chair to the right of the fireplace.

Lord Feversham, a Frenchman, a Catholic, and Chamberlain of the Dowager Queen Catherine's household, entered with a most lowly obeisance.

Mary looked at him haughtily.

"You can guess the matter on which we have sent for you?" she asked, speaking in French.

"I fear I have again fallen under Your Majesty's displeasure."

"Both you and your mistress are very much in our displeasure," answered Mary. "It was our duty to reprimand you three days ago for leaving out the prayers for the success of His Majesty in the services held in Her Majesty's chapel, and we listened for near an hour to your excuses, nor could make much sense of them. And now the offence is repeated."

"I entreat Your Majesty to believe that it was an oversight," answered Feversham humbly.

"Disloyalty and insolence prompts such oversights," flashed the Queen. "We will not take it, my lord; for though we may be meek, yet we stand for His Sovereign Lord the King. Tell Queen Catherine so, and bid her to-night put up prayers for the success of my Lord Torrington against our enemies the French----"

Feversham winced, and stole a startled glance at the woman he had believed to be an amiable cipher; the young beauty's demeanour as she sat stately and resolved in her regal gown undeceived him.

"When we rode abroad in Hyde Park to-day," she continued, "we did note many swarming villains, French and Irish, who gave us impertinent and joyous looks as if they did anticipate a triumph, and maybe Her Majesty thinketh also that she may do as she list now M. de Tourville is in the Channel. But we have no fear of any kind as to the issue of these matters, nor shall we be weak. Some great men will lie in the Tower to-night. Bid your mistress take care."

She rose, and her full height, with heels and head-dress, was more than his. He made as if to speak.

"There is no more to say," she said coldly, and left him discomfited.

No news came, but many rumours found their way into the crowded galleries at Whitehall, where the anxious courtiers waited and endeavoured to read the situation in the Queen's face and manner.

She baffled them all, both at her supper-table and afterwards, when she sat down to basset as usual in that splendid hall where King Charles had held his festivals. She was gay and gracious and unconcerned--some even thought her unfeeling. She appeared to notice nothing; but her eyes and ears were quick for it all--the whispers, the looks, the ill-concealed fears and hopes.

She was, she knew, absolutely alone; not one of the throng about her could she confide in, and very few could she trust. She suspected that many of them were but waiting for a slackening of her courage to call all lost and hasten to make their peace with James; ill news from the Fleet or from Ireland might mean instant rebellion, she was well aware.

Meanwhile she played basset and made no mistake in her moves.

When it was near ten of the clock Lord Nottingham entered the room. The Queen's eyes at once distinguished him among the crowd.

She continued dealing the cards. When he approached her she looked up with a steady smile.

Her lips shaped the one word--

"News?"

He placed a dispatch on the card-table beside her fan and gloves. She saw at once that it was not from Ireland, and she drew a breath between relief and disappointment.

Her glance went swiftly round the faces now undisguisedly watching her, and then she broke the seal.

While she read her bosom heaved, and those nearest her saw the colour faintly stain her face.

She folded up the letter and rose. The ace of spades fell from her lap to the shining floor.

There was a pause of silence. Mary's eyes were the eyes of a creature at bay.

"This is evil news," she said, at length, to Lord Nottingham, and a proud little smile curved her lips.

She had just read that Lord Torrington had been utterly defeated off Beachy Head by the French, who were landed at Tynemouth.

"What will Your Majesty do?" he asked, under his breath. "The courier saith the enemy is in possession of the west----"

She crushed up Lord Torrington's letter in a passionate right hand; she saw that his defeat had been inglorious. The Dutch had been in the van all day and were near annihilated; the English, mere spectators, had drawn off to Plymouth almost untouched.

"The French are landed," she said, "but we English will not let them far advance. I will call upon the city of London. Summon to me the Lord Mayor."