Roxhythe regarded the trees outside.
“You are sure?” persisted Charles. “I would do aught that was within my power to do.”
“There is nothing, Sir. I cannot thank you enough. I am very content.”
“Then we shall hope to welcome you at Whitehall. Roxhythe must bring you.”
“Your Majesty does me great honour.” Christopher rose, and looked across at my lord.
“You are better, sir?”
“I am very well, Chris. Were it not for His Majesty I had not remained in this room for so long.”
“He thinks me a tyrant, Mr. Dart,” said the King. His solemnity had vanished.
“I do,” sighed Roxhythe. “If you had not visited me so often, Sir, I were in my grave today from sheer depression.”
“Poor Davy!” The King smiled at him. “I deliver him into your hands, Mr. Dart.”
“Your Majesty may rest assured that I shall have a great care for him,” said Christopher.
It was not until after dinner that he was alone with Roxhythe. When the wine was before them and the servants had left the room, my lord leaned back in his chair.
“Well, Chris, how fared you?”
“Very well, sir. My journey was quite uneventful until I arrived at the camp.”
“Oh? What then?”
“You’ll never guess whom I met there!”
“Then I shall not try. Whom did you meet?”
“Milward.”
“The amiable one! But how charming!”
“It was not, sir. He—he bewildered me.”
“How?” Roxhythe refilled his glass.
“He was very boisterous—by the way, sir, he knows now why we went to Holland in ’68.”
“I suppose so. Go on.”
“He asked me what fresh intrigue I was busy with. I dissembled, and then he said that he was not trying to squeeze me as he fancied we were at one now. What could he have meant?”
“God knows. What else?”
“It was all to that tune. He asked me if I were the King his messenger, and he said he was expecting ‘something of the kind.’ He seemed to think that I was in French pay. And he said that I puzzled him.”
“The sun must have affected his brain.”
“It almost seemed so. He was very strange. He told me that he knew now what manner of man you were. He spoke of 1670 and laughed heartily. He was surprised that I ‘did not know.’ I can only suppose that he is afflicted by Harcourt’s complaint. You remember how they suspected you at the time?”
“Ay. Fools.”
“I think Milward is a bigger fool than any of them. I was glad to be rid of him.”
Roxhythe sipped his wine.
“Take my advice, Chris; do not heed these gossipmongers.”
“I do not. I never have heeded them. They suspect every one of disloyalty to the country. But I know!”
“Yes. You know. And you too love the country.”
“Above everything,” said Christopher simply.
“So you would never join certain of our respected friends in their machinations behind the country’s back?”
“I, sir? How can you ask? I would sooner die!”
“Yet many people have warned you ’gainst my supposed nefarious dealings. You remain with me in spite of all?”
“Why, sir, I laugh at them! Your nefarious dealings! Oh, ay, my lord!”
“And if their suspicions were true: what then?” He looked full into Christopher’s clear eyes.
“I—think—it would break my heart, sir,” answered Christopher unsteadily. “But then, it is not so, is it?”
Roxhythe touched his lips with his napkin.
“No. It is not so.”
“Of course it is not!” smiled Christopher. “Oh, sir, I am very, very proud tonight!”
“Are you?” said Roxhythe.
IX
Disillusionment
Christopher settled down to his old life very quickly.
England was in a state of unrest. In February of the next year Parliament met again. There was universal excitement, and some cries were directed against the King. Harcourt told Christopher that Charles was trying to dispense with a Parliament altogether. Christopher was amused.
Roxhythe had lately fallen foul of His Grace of Buckingham, ever his foe, and Buckingham proceeded to wage war on him, writing catchy doggerels which circulated the coffeehouses, and sneering at the favourite on every opportunity. Roxhythe complained that he was becoming a nuisance. Then his Grace overreached himself. He was very vehement on the subject of prorogation. He joined Shaftesbury in the popular cry that by the length of the prorogation the Parliament had ceased to exist. He employed all his caustic wit in this cause, and he grew excited. His section was outvoted, and he, Shaftesbury and Wharton were consigned to the Tower. Gossip whispered and gradually shouted that his imprisonment as one of the ringleaders of the movement was due to my Lord Roxhythe’s influence. Christopher listened, observed my lord, and believed Gossip. My lord smiled and said nothing.
In March Christopher received one of Roderick’s rare letters. He found it a bulky package and was surprised. Roderick was not wont to write at length. He settled himself more comfortably in his chair and spread the sheets before him.
There was very little preliminary. Roderick inquired after his health, and after that wasted no time in giving vent to his feelings.
“… Ye knowe, my dear Chris, how I Do long to See You out of Roxhythe His Service. Once more I Implore You to quit him. With him Ye Breathe the Air of Intrigue, of all thatt is Vile. It is in no Peevish Spirit thatt I Warn You, but in my Zeal for Yr. Welfare, which I have ever to Heart. Ye are Young: it may be thatt Ye are Ignorant of the Machinations of This Man for his Infamous Master. We in Holland have learnt by Bitter Experience never to Trust to Charles His Word. Ye in England must Surely knowe By Now the Truth concerning thatt most Disgraceful Affair in 1670. We knew, very soone after, thatt Charles had sold himself to France in a Shameful Treaty made Secretly with Louis. We sawe how he contrived to Trick his Parliament into wishing for War on Us. We knowe, for the Prince has Zealous Agents, what Partt my Lord Roxhythe played in thatt Treaty. He did haggle with Louis on Charles his Behalf, and did arrange a Secret Meeting for Both
