“Why?”
“They will not all want the same successor.”
“You think some will stand for Monmouth?”
“I do expect it, Sir. Prince William is not every man’s choice.”
“No. And Monmouth is popular. He would be the people’s choice, but I cannot believe that the Cabinet would consent to it.”
“We shall see. In the meantime, Sir, I propose to act.”
Charles leaned back in his chair.
“I were not King without you, Davy. You’ll help me to overthrow the coming cry for exclusion?”
“I will.”
The King looked at him curiously for a moment.
“Roxhythe, what are your own sentiments?”
“I’ve none. I care not what happens after you are gone. England may have James, or Mary, or Monmouth. It is all one to me. All that matters is your pleasure.”
“I would I had more of your mind about me! What do you think of doing?”
Roxhythe sat down on the nearest chair.
“I shall throw myself into the cause against His Grace of York. Secretly.”
The King’s brow contracted in bewilderment.
“Go on.”
“His Grace of York’s dislike for me is well known. That adds colour to my attitude. I approach Shaftesbury when the time comes, with great caution. I am a thought fearful of discovery, you understand. I think that it were best for me to act secretly for fear of incurring Your Majesty’s displeasure.”
“I do not think that they will trust you.”
“They will undoubtedly have misgivings. But my support in the matter would be invaluable. They would count on my exerting my influence to sway you ’gainst the Duke.”
“Ay, but what then?”
“When I have convinced the worthy Shaftesbury of my wholehearted sincerity I shall enter deep into the inner workings of the affair.”
“Which you will impart to me?”
“Which I shall impart to you. I think I may be instrumental in bringing about the fall of our friend Ashley.”
“You are clever enough for anything,” admitted Charles. “But this is a big risk.”
“No. They can but disbelieve in me, and I do not think they will do that. They will see that if the Duke succeeds you I must fall. It is the popular belief that I work primarily for my own ends.”
Charles nodded.
“If all this should come to James his ears you are ruined—when I die, my David.”
“That matters not at all, Sir.”
“I might confide in James. …”
“I beg you will not, Sir! He is so incautious. And he mistrusts me. He would not believe that I was working in his interests.”
“I do not suppose he would. Especially if he guesses by whose advice he is sent to Brussels.”
“He’ll guess that, of course. He suspects my hand in everything. His mistrust will but further my machinations.”
“Very well, Roxhythe, I consent.”
The favourite laughed.
“Did you mean to withhold your consent, Sir?”
“I’ve no wish to ruin you, David.”
“Why, I am ruined already. What happens after your death is no matter at all.”
“Well, I do not think I shall die yet,” said Charles placidly.
After welcoming the new Parliament with wild enthusiasm, England settled down to enjoy a panic concerning Papists and Papist heirs. This panic my Lord Shaftesbury fostered lovingly. He was a brave man, but the rest of the Council were not. They hesitated at bringing in an Exclusion Bill. But they agitated with the rest.
For a short space Shaftesbury supported the King’s suggested Bill of Securities, but he decided at last that it was not strong enough, and laid it aside. He prevailed upon the Council to bring in a Bill excluding James from the throne and devolving it upon the next Protestant heir. The Commons liked the Bill, and passed it. My Lord Shaftesbury anticipated trouble in the other House, and he instructed the Commons to prepare a Remonstrance.
Charles deemed it prudent to prorogue his Parliament.
The trouble fermented. My Lord Shaftesbury held meetings and discussions. So did my Lords Halifax, Essex, and Sir William Temple, the Secretary of State. Into these meetings was introduced the magic name of Roxhythe.
Lord Holles mentioned my lord first. He was dining with Shaftesbury.
“I believe I have set my finger on a weak spot in the King’s armour,” he remarked. He peeled a nut, and ate it.
The Earl was all attention.
“What have you discovered, Holles?”
Holles ate another nut.
“I have reason to think that his favourite stands against him.”
“Roxhythe? Impossible!”
“On the contrary. If you think for a moment you will see that it is more than probable.”
“You think that Roxhythe realizes that the accession of James would be his downfall?”
“Well, he is no fool.”
Shaftesbury pushed back his chair, frowning.
“I would never trust Roxhythe.”
“Except when he works for himself.”
“Less than ever then.”
“I disagree. I discern signs of uneasiness in my lord.”
“I can’t believe that Roxhythe would ever betray his feelings.”
“They were very slight signs, I admit. I fancy he is working for the exclusion.”
Shaftesbury sat biting his nail, his face in worried lines.
“If it were so it would help the cause more than anything else.”
“So I think. I know that he dined with Savile twice last week.”
“With Halifax! That means he favours the accession of Mary!”
“It is more likely that he has not thought of Monmouth. Monmouth should be more to his taste.”
“Holles, I wish that I might be sure of this! If one could trust him he would be invaluable. He has so much influence.”
“Why not sound him?”
“How?”
“Invite him to dinner.”
“Quite impossible. I do not visit him.”
“Then let me. I’ll also invite you.”
Ashley bit his nail again, irresolute.
“If he would come—”
“Oh, he will come! He often dines with me.”
“I do not think that he would ever work for a party.”
“It remains to be seen. It is just possible that our great Roxhythe is a little apprehensive.”
Two days later Roxhythe exhibited a letter to his master.
“I am bidden to Holles tomorrow, Sir.”
“Really?” Charles took the letter. “How amiable he is! They mean to probe you, David.”
My lord smiled serenely. He accepted the invitation.
During dinner at Lord Holles’ house he excelled himself. He talked on every subject but one, and that one politics; witticisms flowed from his tongue,
