The Spider's Touch (43 page)

“From what I have heard, that was why he released the report from the Committee of Secrecy yesterday. He had to convince the public that there was good reason for these arrests. Since Mr. Walpole began his accusations, there have been such disturbances outside his house, that he has been afraid for his own safety.”

As she spoke, St. Mars went as tense as a wire. Hester regretted having to give him such unsettling news.

“I hate to bring you bad tidings, my lord.”

“Not at all.” His manner was distracted. “I am very much obliged. I might never have heard it, otherwise.”

He mused, before saying, “I am afraid this will delay my errand for you, Mrs. Kean. I must make a journey to Richmond.”

“Must you, my lord?” Hester did not care if he could hear her fear.”

“Yes. I will not abandon our investigation without informing you, though. And if I must, it won’t be forever. It may only be delayed.”

“That is not my greatest fear, my lord.”

“It should be. And I forbid you to have any other.” He raised her hand to his lips, gave her a solemn look that spoke goodbye, then left before she could respond.

As Hester watched him vanish into the gloom of the nave—walking in a very un-foplike stride—she prayed that he would not run straight into danger.

Chapter Nineteen

Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;

Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore.

What future bliss, he gives not thee to know,

But gives that Hope to be thy blessing now.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast:

Man never Is, but always To be blest:

The soul, uneasy and confined from home,

Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

I. iii.

Gideon set out for Richmond just before dusk. He rode Looby, since Penny would be too noticeable. He did not bother with an elaborate disguise, but did take Tom along, in case he needed him to approach the house.

They took the Wandsworth Road as far as Putney Heath, then headed across country, keeping an eye open for cover, should they need to hide.

Richmond was a sleepy country village on the south side of the Thames. In centuries past, it had been a major centre of court life, but Henry VII’s royal palace had been taken down, with little remaining except a lodge, which the Dukes of Ormonde had acquired for a country residence to be near Windsor Castle and the Palace of Hampton Court.

Given Lord Oxford’s arrest, not to mention the attacks on his family that Ormonde had spoken of, Gideon was afraid that the government might have sent troops to the area to keep the Duke from fleeing. Running into them would pose a risk to him as well, but he reckoned that few common soldiers or even officers would be likely to recognize the Viscount St. Mars. If a King’s Messenger had been sent to take the Duke into custody, it was more possible that he might be recognized, which was why he had been forced to wait all day before leaving. And, just in case, he had Katy deck Tom in a tradesman’s jacket and wig, and Gideon wore a smock to pass as Tom’s servant.

This was the first time that Tom had been subjected to the discomfort of a wig, and he made his displeasure heard more than once during their hasty ride.

“If you do not stop pulling and tugging at it,” Gideon told him, after they had ridden half the distance, “you’re going to knock it askew, and then no one will believe you’re the master.”

“I’ll tell ‘em I’ve picked up some lice,” Tom growled. “That’s what it feels like.”

“Well, now I hope that you have an appreciation for the suffering I’ve been made to endure since my boyhood.”

Gideon had been grateful for the distraction of the wig, but as they drew closer to Richmond, he ignored Tom’s squirming. His groom grew silent, too, as the dense forest of Richmond Park loomed ahead.

They pulled up their horses to scan the perimeter of the trees for signs of troops, but there were none. “If no one stops us, I shall ride with you to within sight of Richmond Lodge. If all looks safe, I want you to go up to the house. You must tell the porter that you have a message for the Duke, concerning his cousin Jonathan. They should show you in, and once you are alone with Ormonde, tell him that the Viscount St. Mars is waiting in the woods to hear his orders.

“Then, if he wants to see me,” Gideon continued, “have the porter wave a candle slowly back and forth from a window that I can see. Have you got all that, Tom?”

“I think so, my lord.” Tom made one last adjustment of his wig, but his face was set in an anxious frown. “But it seems a very havey-cavey way of doing things to me.”

“I know. But they haven’t left me with much choice. If you run into anyone who might be an officer of the Crown, just pretend to be the Duke’s chandler come to collect on a bill. He will send you away, but try to find out what’s happened to his Grace before you return to me.”

“Ay, my lord.”

They circled the park, where darkness had fallen. Gideon had hunted in Richmond Forest more than once, but they were prevented from entering it by the palisade that secured the game. The trees were rustling in the strong evening breeze, so loudly that it was good they had no need to talk. They walked their horses slowly and close to the fence, so as to make no unnecessary noise, and occasionally surprised a group of deer grazing near it. When the deer bolted, heads up and tails flying, their small hooves beat a soft tattoo against the compost-covered ground.

No soldiers were yet in evidence, but that did not mean that the Duke was safe. Gideon could imagine that the King would be reluctant to send troops for Ormonde when he was so popular with the men. It would be expected that he would go quietly and legally, though, if the King’s Messengers came for him.

Still, when they had ridden to the other side of the park and first saw the Lodge in front of them, he found it oddly quiet. Hardly a candle appeared to be lit. He wondered if he might have been too late, for if a Messenger had come for his Grace in the afternoon, Gideon would have had no way of knowing.

He halted just outside. After watching the house for signs of activity, he sent Tom on his errand. He kept a close watch on him until he disappeared behind the gatekeeper’s house, then waited for a signal.

Gideon had resigned himself to a possible wait of even hours before the Duke was able to see him. He was worried, then, when Tom reappeared only a minutes later and came riding straight for him. He gave no sign of alarm, but neither did he beckon, so Gideon waited with mounting unease for Tom to reach his side.

“He’s gone,” Tom said, drawing Beau up in front of him.

“Gone? Gone where?” He could not believe that Ormonde had started the rebellion, but, still, that was the thought that flew into his mind.

“The porter didn’t want to tell me, but I finally convinced him that his master would want you to know
....

“He’s left for France. The man said that a letter was brought from London yesterday. His Grace gave orders for his horse to be readied, and he set out right away.”

Gideon was stunned. If Ormonde had run, it was because he had no hopes for the rising, and he must have been certain that his own arrest was imminent. “How does the servant know he went to France?”

“The groom let his daughter know that they’d be riding to Shoreham in Sussex and that he would return alone. Nobody can think of any reason the Duke would have to go there, unless he was taking passage on a ship.”

“Nor can I.” Gideon was completely at a loss. If Ormonde had truly gone south, he must not have gone to lead the rebellion in the west. But why had he abandoned the plan? For the past month, supposedly, he had been working towards putting it in motion, but his imminent arrest must have caught him still unprepared. Gideon wondered that Ormonde had not at least ridden west to see how many men he could raise. If the riots and dissent scattered over the kingdom were any indication of James’s popularity, then surely the best thing would be to strike before any more Jacobites could be taken into custody. But, in leaving them without a military leader, the Duke would insure their defeat.

James would be devastated to hear the news, which surely he would if Ormonde sought him out. And in that case, there was no longer any need for Gideon to report to him about the readiness of the rebellion. James would hear the truth from Ormonde, himself—if Ormonde went to see him.

Gideon found that he could not simply let the matter rest. He sent Tom back to the Lodge with instructions to find the servant with the greatest authority and ask him if the Duke had left any messages or instructions.

This errand took longer. By the time Tom returned, it was so dark that Gideon didn’t see him coming until after he heard Beau’s hoof beats.

He scrambled up from the spot where he’d been sitting, leaning against the trunk of an oak, and asked, “What news?”

Tom gave a loud sigh. “I found his Grace’s man of business. He says there were no messages left, and no letters have gone out either. The porter said it was true. He didn’t see anybody ride to nowhere, and before yesterday, he says there was plenty of coming and going to places west.”

Gideon didn’t know what to make of any of it, but it was still possible that the Duke was simply being careful. He might be planning to send instructions once he arrived at the coast.

Gideon saw nothing for it, but to return to his new house and wait.

“Thank you, Tom. I believe you have got everything that is to be found out tonight.”

“I fear so, my lord. Do you want me to help you mount?”

“No, I’ll manage.” Gideon had gathered up his horse’s reins, and now he threw himself into his saddle with one sweeping motion, before turning Looby’s head towards home.

“Your lordship did that like a right proper highwayman,” Tom said behind him.

Gideon smiled. He knew that Tom was trying to cheer him. But his mind was filled with confusion and disappointment, so all he said was, “As long as I have to play the part, better to do it right.”

* * * *

The news of Lord Oxford’s confinement in the Tower, along with other Jacobites’ arrests, still reverberated through the streets of London and Westminster. Visitors to Hawkhurst House all whispered of their fear that a general rising seemed imminent.

Harrowby told his family—very indiscreetly Hester thought—that the Cabinet was almost certain that the army would not stand behind the King if the Duke of Ormonde raised the Pretender’s standard in any part of England. They feared it would be impossible to defend his Majesty against the vast numbers that would rally to the Stuart cause.

He revealed this after he and Dudley had joined the ladies in the withdrawing room after dinner, cautioning them all not to be heard speaking ill of the Stuarts, in case the worst should come.

Harrowby was sitting in a chair by one of the open windows, fanning himself with a delicate skin fan, on which a pleasant scene with two swans, swimming side by side, had been painted. Dudley, less morose, now that most of the negative attention was directed at James Stuart instead of him, had thrown himself horizontally on a sofa designed for two. Hester, Mrs. Mayfield, and Isabella had been doing little other than trying to stay cool in the abominable July heat, which was so fierce that Isabella had dispensed with the lace tucker at her breast.

“I thought his Majesty had commissioned officers that he can trust,” Hester said. She could not help being alarmed by this talk of civil war, though she tried not to let her worries impede her.

For once, not even her aunt took exception to her showing an interest in the Crown’s affairs. All eyes turned to Harrowby to see if this comforting notion had any merit.

Their hope was sorely misplaced. Harrowby had not been blessed with the character of a rock in the biblical sense. The best he could do was to say, despondently, “He’s certainly made a mincemeat of the army. I’ve never seen so many changes of officers in so short a time. But how can he be sure that he’s routed all the Jacobites? And even if the officers do turn out to be loyal, that doesn’t mean that the common soldiers will.

“It’s not only the military postings he’s changing either. He just dismissed Shrewsbury, too.”

This announcement produced a long moment of shock, before Mrs. Mayfield recovered enough to ask eagerly, “Then who’s to be Lord Chamberlain?”

Her eagerness made it clear that she had still not relinquished every hope of securing a Court position for her family.

“His Majesty’s appointed the Duke of Bolton. But if he suspects Shrewsbury of treachery, then one has to wonder who will be next.  I’ve a good mind to take us all down to Rotherham Abbey and wait for this to blow over. And I
shall
, if Parliament is ever released. But if we were to go now, someone would be sure to be to say that we were gone to France!”

“Lud, but people can be nasty!” Mrs. Mayfield said. “I shouldn’t doubt but that you are right, my lord.”

Though she had agreed with him, Hester noticed that the mention of Rotherham Abbey had made her aunt’s eyes light up. She could tell that Mrs. Mayfield had begun to muse on the pleasant aspects of a sojourn in the country. She had always found life away from Court very dull, but not only was it miserably hot in London, it was smelly, too. The amusements she found entertaining came at the price of fetid air, reeking with the refuse in the streets, which cooked faster in the summer sun. That, and the necessity of standing at Court, when the heat in the Palace was enough to make anyone faint, must certainly rob the town of its attractions, even for a confirmed town-dweller like her aunt. Yet, not to attend at Court, when their absense might be misconstrued, was a danger that no one could afford in this suspicious climate.

“I am sure that I should be the last to desert his Majesty at a time like this,” Mrs. Mayfield said, virtuously. “But I cannot help being concerned about my dear daughter’s health.”

She gazed worriedly at Isabella, who looked back at her in surprise. “What is there about my health to concern you, Mama?”