Mary Imlay Taylor

“ LADY BETTY shaded her eyes with her hand and looked out on the rose garden of Althorpe.
At her feet the lawn was close clipped and green; beyond was a garland of many colors, roses by hundreds and tens of hundreds, the warmth and glow of the sun upon them; behind them, the long avenue of limes and beeches, and between the trees vistas of level land with the deer moving to and fro.
The butterflies—a little host of them—whirled under the window, and her ladyship smiled.
“Come, Alice,” she said, “’tis too fair a day to linger indoors. ”

“ King William may turn as deaf an ear to me,” cried the young countess, with a quivering voice; “was ever fate more cruel? If he is beheaded I shall die!”
Lady Russell said nothing, but gave her so eloquent a look that Betty broke down.
“Forgive me!” she cried, “oh, forgive me! How selfish grief makes us; I forgot—”
“I lived,” said the widow quietly.
Betty fell to weeping silently.
“’Twould be worse to live!” she moaned.
“It is worse,” retorted Lady Russell; “grief eats into the heart like a canker; but I lived for his son!” ”

“ Duty!” she repeated scornfully, “then may no man henceforth do his duty! Such virtue is more vile than vice—such courage worse than cowardice! How dare you face me or look at me? An injured woman! I mark your white face, sir, and I marvel at its pallor; it should burn with shame.”
Spencer ground his teeth in anger. “You saucy minx,” he said, “how dared you have that man here?”
“How dared I?” she repeated, “how dared I have my husband with me? Whom should I have with me if not my husband?”
She paused for breath; her bosom rose and fell, she put her hands to her throat as if she choked. ”

“ Poor Lady Betty, she wept over it and caressed it like a living thing, for he had touched it; and she hid the shamrock and the ring in her bosom.
In this distracted state she waited forty-eight hours longer, until she knew that the three dukes had obtained no definite promise from the king and that the Earl of Sunderland, who was supposed to command his majesty’s ear, was proclaiming everywhere his approval of Spencer’s deed. The cloud grew darker rather than brighter, and in her agony she would have gone alone to Kensington, for Lady Russell’s caution seemed to her only distracting delay. ”

“ So, there is no better cause for a fight than a song?”
At the sight of her the two men stepped back in sheer amazement, sinking their sword points in the ground at her feet.
“Ay, shame on you both!” she cried with sparkling eyes; “’tis but a pretty fashion of murder—and I’ll none of it! Put up your weapons, gentlemen, for he who draws his here is my friend no more!”
Lord Savile’s sword leaped into its sheath, but Clancarty kissed the hilt of his and handed it to Lady Betty.
“Madam, my honor is involved,” he said, “and I place it in your hands.” ”

“ She moved lightly and swiftly across the lawn, one white hand resting on the shoulder of her handmaid, who was shorter and fuller in outline than her mistress. Though their stations were thus widely sundered, a frank girlish friendship existed between them, and Lady Betty had few secrets that were not shared by Alice Lynn. They had grown up in the same household; the one child waiting on the other on all state occasions, but usually her playmate, after the fashion of those days when the feudal tie of lord and vassal still bound old servants and their descendants to their masters. ”

“ Lady Betty cried wildly, clasping her hands to her bosom as if to still the tumult there, “and I stand here talking to the Judas who betrayed him! Go hang yourself, my lord,—surely you cannot want to live,” she went on, mad with her despair; “let me see your face no more. The very air you breathe poisons me. Never, never shall the same roof shelter us again! I go, sir, your sister no longer, but the beggar’s wife. ”

“ It is my duty as your brother, a painful duty, I admit,” he said pompously, “to tell you the truth. Lord Clancarty is a notorious scamp, a dissolute fellow, a murderer and oppressor; and, as for you, what does he care for you? You little fool, he has never sought you—and never will!” and with this taunt my lord turned on his heel and walked decorously but swiftly away, wise enough to fly before his sister could retaliate.
Lady Betty stood as he had left her for a moment, her little hands clenched and her face crimson. ”

“ After awhile she looked around the miserable room.
“My love,” she cried, “can’t I take you away from this awful place? It breaks my heart to have you here! With that female dragon, too.”
“Nay, grieve not, Betty,” he answered smiling, “it shines with you in it. How I shall picture you here—in your white and pink gown, with the little hood on your head—the house is a palace, dear! It is too good for a poor man now.” ”

“ WHEN Lady Clancarty ascended the water stairs on her return from the Tower she was outwardly calm, the floodtide of her emotion having spent itself in the outburst at the Traitor’s Gate. Young Mackie, still acting as her sole escort, came up the steps behind her and the two, pausing at the top, saw dawn breaking over the river. Like a wraith the fog rolled up along the water, the sky grew pale and in the far east a light shone, keen and cold. ”

“ Mr. Benham and young Mackie were measuring the ground. Denis, in the meantime, turned his face away and looked toward the setting sun; it may be that he was wishing for the shoes he wore at Boyne, but it is not recorded. The clouds overhead were red and the level meadows bathed in the slanting rays of light; long shadows fell across the scene; a bird sang in the grove of limes.
The two men stepped into the open, stripped of coats and waistcoats, their white shirts showing vividly against the green background. Lord Savile was flushed, but Clancarty’s face was singularly serene. ”

“ Radcliffe told him that he would not have his two legs for his three kingdoms,” said Lord Savile, with a sullen laugh.
Devonshire smiled a little and so did Ormond, but Lady Betty looked straight before her over the sunny turf.
“My Lord Savile,” she said, “the king has the wisest head in Europe.”
“A king is richest in the hearts that love him,” said Richard Trevor smoothly, “and the King of England is rich in these.”
Lady Betty darted a quick glance at him, and so did my Lord of Ormond, but they read nothing. ”

“ The long avenues of elms and beeches and limes ran from it to the very doors of the earl’s house, and about it lay the park, enfiladed by those avenues of stately trees, while beyond were the meadows—in the old time it was said that there were eight acres of meadowland and two of thornwood in one small portion of the freehold of Ollethorp—and now the great domain stretched out on every hand, beautified by nature and by art.
It was in the woods of the park that Lady Betty and her attendant, Alice Lynn, walked on the morning after her interview with her father. ”

“ An expression of surprise passed over Devonshire’s face, but it brightened.
“I know of no one better,” he said gravely; “nay, dear Lady Clancarty, take heart of grace; your cold king is a merciful one.”
Betty drew a sharp breath.
“My Lord Clancarty is out of his clemency,” she said faintly; “the Habeas Corpus Act—” she could say no more.
Devonshire looked grave and his eyes met Mackie’s significantly, but he took her hand.
“My child,” he said kindly, “you will go in my carriage to Lady Russell’s and then I will go to Kensington; we will not surrender until we are beaten. ”

“ The talk rose and fell; some woman laughed, the shallow cackling laugh that comes from the empty heart and the empty head; the crackling of thorns under a pot.
An usher bowed before Lady Russell and she held out her hand to Betty. The duke smiled again reassuringly; and the two women walked slowly through the throng, passed in at a low doorway, and in a moment there was stillness. ”

“ Then suddenly a shout of exultation and despair, strangely mingled, and the whole crowd blossoming out into a mass of waving handkerchiefs and tossing hats.
“Ah, was there ever anything so pretty!” cried Lady Betty; “there is nothing finer than a beautiful horse.”
“Except a beautiful woman,” said my Lord of Ormond gallantly.
“Pray, my lord, do not put us in the same category,” said Lady Betty laughing; “’tis said that some men rate their horses dearer than their wives.”
“That is because there are so few Lady Clancartys,” replied Ormond smiling, and Betty swept him a courtesy. ”

“ Lady Clancarty would not give way so readily; she struggled with her grief and commanded her voice again, going closer to the wicket and laying her hands upon it—that famous wicket which had closed behind so many prisoners; on Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey, on Sir Thomas More and Cranmer and on the Duke of Norfolk; the wicket stained with a long history of terror and despair—was clasped now by Lady Betty’s slender fingers, and she prayed for admittance—a new prayer, indeed, at the Traitor’s Gate. ”

“ Lady Betty laughed.
[Pg 78] “Only one can recover a heart,” she said wickedly, “but a head—I never heard of one that was put on after the headsman.”
“Nor I,” he admitted, “but, after all, one can die but once.”
“And one can love many times,” suggested Betty; “I have heard that my Lord Clancarty’s heart is tender.”
“Mere fables, madam,” he replied, with cool mendacity; “his heart is made for one image only and would keep that—to eternity.”
“His must be a valuable and rare heart,” Lady Clancarty remarked demurely, “too good, sir, to exchange for a human one.” ”

“ I knelt to plead for life to King Charles, as she kneels now to King William, and I knelt in vain. They carried my husband—almost past his own home—to his death and I—ah, my king, I lived! That is the terror of it, and the cruelty; you cannot divine it,—’tis martyrdom!” the widow’s voice was shaken [Pg 290] by the agony of recollection and for the moment she could say no more. “I pray you humbly, if I have ever served your majesty or deserved well at your hands, to consider our petition. We ask but life—all else we leave in your hands. ”

“ Lady Clancarty said; “but sooth, Alice, ’tis very trying. I would fain know—I would fathom that dark cloud that hangs upon my destiny.”
“Dear Lady Betty,” Alice said, “is there indeed a dark cloud upon it? It seems to my humble vision fair as summer sunshine, and high and noble.”
The mistress sighed. “Ah, simple maid,” she said, “look not enviously upon high estate. Light hearted I was born, gay and full of recklessness, I believe, but happy—ah, Alice, once I was! But now, my mind keeps turning ever to the thought of one less happy; I have a home and he—he has none ”

“ Betty cried wildly, catching her husband’s arm.
For an instant he hesitated; he, too, heard the heavy feet in the gallery, then he shook his head.
“No, Betty, dear,” he said, “I cannot be hunted like a rat in a hole; I must face them like a man, like your husband.”
She uttered a little cry of despair and clung to him, while Alice wrung her hands.
[Pg 238] “Oh, the window, my lord!” she cried, “there is a balcony!”
“Too late, my girl,” Lord Clancarty replied calmly, the light flashing in his gray eyes, his head erect; “no, no, I’ve never let an enemy see my back—I can’t learn to run now.” ”

“ Lady Clancarty’s face crimsoned with anger.
“You are a hypocrite, Spencer!” she said, stamping her foot.
“Family insults in public are always becoming,” said Lord Spencer, controlling himself with an effort, but white to the lips.
“Forsooth, who began it?” recriminated his high-spirited sister; “you might better indeed talk of other things. Of your fine clothes, for instance; you are truly ‘the glass of fashion,’ my lord, pink satin waistcoat and breeches, gray plush coat, point of Venice ruffles, white silk stockings, clocked, too, with pink, French shoes and buckles,—mercy on us, sir! ”

“ A king’s anteroom! How many secret histories are written here; what comedy, what tragedy!
The low murmur of talk rose and fell; [Pg 286] great ladies, powdered and patched, swept their furbelows through the crowd and swayed their fans, chattering lightly of a hundred things; great lords bowed and smiled and took snuff and cursed the king, in their hearts, for keeping them waiting. A pair of lovers, two young things, were cooing in a window recess, as indifferent to the public as a pair of turtledoves, and Betty looked at them with dull eyes. ”

“ No loving woman ever thought of valuing her husband by his misfortunes. I am a beggar and an exile, my lady, and I have done wrong to sue for your heart. I see that—like your father—you value men by their positions in the world! ”

“ Surely no fair woman ever won greater mediators as quickly as did poor Lady Betty.
Lady Russell hoped little, however, from their efforts, though she said not a word of this to the distracted young wife but, instead, pointed out the advantages of waiting until they could appeal to William quite alone—as two women in distress—and with no connection with any political embroglio. Indeed, the older woman knew the king well enough to be sure that his heart might be touched by a woman’s grief, though in affairs of state he could be adamant. ”

“ At Saint Germain and at Paris; a gambler, a rake, a cutpurse, with half a dozen lady-loves to—”
“Silence!” cried Lady Betty furiously, rising in her indignation. “Shame on you, sir, to insult a woman and she your sister, and to blacken a gallant gentleman behind his back. Is that your virtue? Faith, I believe a witty rogue would be a happier companion than a virtuous bore!”
[Pg 14] “Your tongue will cut your throat yet, madam,” said Spencer harshly; “you have worked yourself into this passion; you have never seen your husband since childhood, and you do not know him. ”

“ Ah, my lord, when will the Traitor’s Gate close, save on a woman’s bleeding heart?” and she kissed the young countess on brow and cheek.
[Pg 273] “My husband,” faltered Betty, “you know, dear madam, that he is a Jacobite?”
“I know it,” Lady Russell answered sadly; “but he is also a brave man and, as I know, the idol of one woman’s heart. Alas, my lord,” she added gravely to Devonshire, “do you love us well enough to make amends for the broken hearts—the faithful broken hearts?” ”

“ Lady Clancarty flushed angrily, and then she laughed that delicious, mirthful laugh of hers.
[Pg 76] “He has existed, sir,” she corrected him, “because he never knew how delightful Lady Clancarty is.”
“Exactly,” replied Trevor, “a mere existence; life uncrowned by love—such love as he ought to have won, confound him—is not life. He might as well be a turnip.”
“So I have always thought,” she replied, with a charming smile; “but then, you know, Mr. Trevor, he might not have been able to win it.”
“Not win it!” he exclaimed, “not win it, when he is a husband to begin with. ”