Chapter III Somerset House
Somerset House, the English home in which Agnes now found herself, was very different from the magnificent but sombre Louvre she had left.
It stood almost in the centre of a great bend of the Thames, so that from its fine terrace could be seen, on one side the city of London, with its countless spires and its old bridge, on the other the king’s palace and gardens of Whitehall and the great Abbey of Westminster.
Built by the Protector Somerset, it had been greatly improved for Queen Henrietta Maria, who had furnished it with consummate taste.
On its charming south front, looking out over the river, in full sunshine, were the queen’s principal apartments: her presence-chamber, private sitting-room, and her bed-chamber, all protected by the guard-room. Her windows looked down on wide, trim lawns, in the centre of which was a basin and fountain, while beyond was a broad terraced walk, the walls of which were at each high tide washed by the Thames.
A handsome flight of steps led down to the river, where the queen’s barge was moored. The Thames was a high-road full of life and movement, for every nobleman kept a splendid barge, rowed by many men in fine liveries.
Beyond the queen’s apartment were the smaller rooms occupied by the Princess Henrietta and Agnes Beaumont, who, though she was but twelve years old, was raised to the dignity of maid of honour to the princess, thus establishing her right to be always beside her in private and in public. Agnes was tall for her age and slim; the golden curls of her childhood had darkened to a rich auburn; her features were delicate but very marked; her complexion fair, with a soft pink colouring which suited well with the brown eyes and dark, long lashes. She had been a beautiful babe, and now she was a fair girl, little more than a child still, but giving great promise of a beautiful womanhood.
Young as she was, there was a stateliness in her carriage which betokened high birth. More than once the queen laughed with Patience:
“We cannot hide her dignity if we would,” she said; “she carries her head too high for common folk.”
Patience smiled. “Well, well,” she said, “her father did the same. The proverb says, ‘Pride will have a fall’. Thank God she cannot fall much lower than she has!”
“Nay,” answered the queen, “we will make of her a duchess. My son the king noticed her the other day and remarked upon her beauty, and he is no mean judge,” she added with a light laugh.
But Patience flushed crimson. “I would sooner his majesty did not cast his eyes on her,” she said in a low voice.
“Pshaw!” answered the queen, “she is but a child.”
“A child who will be a woman before we know it,” said Patience. “His majesty’s court is too gay for such young fledgelings.”
“Well spoken, Patience!” said a man’s voice behind the queen. “Why, methinks my lord Cromwell’s spirit still dwells amongst us in our own house. You will be a Puritan yet, Patience.”
Patience made no answer, but bowed and went out.
Then the speaker, Lord Jermyn, took the queen’s hand, kissed it, led her to a chair, and at a sign from her sat down beside her.
“Patience is right,” he said. “I would keep those children away from Whitehall as much as possible. The king has had but a dull time of it in exile; he is making up for it now.”
Henrietta shrugged her shoulders. “My nephew’s court in Paris is no better,” she said, “and there Henrietta, when she is Duchess of Orleans, will have to live, and probably Agnes will go with her.”
“Time enough for that,” answered Lord Jermyn. “Do not brush the bloom off the flowers sooner than need be. They are the prettiest couple at court, those two, in their young freshness. Have you spoken to the king concerning Agnes?”
“No, there’s time enough,” answered the queen. “It were difficult for the king to act at present. The estates have passed out of his hands, and he would raise a hornet’s nest if he attempted to take them from their present owner.”
“I think you are wrong,” said Lord Jermyn; “the sooner such things are done the better. If his majesty cannot restore to her her rightful heritage, then he must create a new one for her.”
“That is probably what he will do,” said the queen. “These are early days, and his hands are full. His first duty is to do what he is doing, punish the murderers of his father.”
“Ah, well! he is doing that without mercy,” said Lord Jermyn, and there was a certain bitterness in his tone.
“Do you regret it?” asked Henrietta, looking up at him.
“I suppose it has to be,” he answered. “But such men as Harrison and Carew are being raised to the dignity of martyrs; they die like men for the cause they believe in. There, we will not speak of it. I wish it were all over.”
“I agree with you, my lord,” said the young Duke of Gloucester, who had just come in. “I wish it were all over, this judging and this killing. I cannot pass in the streets but I see the scaffolds, and men dying thereon with such firmness and show of piety, with a semblance of joy in their sufferings.” And the young Duke covered his face with his hands. “Mother, cannot you stop it?” he asked.
“Stop the avenging of your father’s death! Nay, Henry, that I cannot do.”
“Then, Mother, pray the king not to have the scaffold so near us as Charing Cross, or else I will go hence and never visit you. My Lord Jermyn, plead for me.” And the prince hastily left the room, and, going along the gallery, knocked at the door of his sister’s apartment.
It was Agnes who opened to him. She was startled at the pallor of his face.
“Is your royal highness ill?” she asked.
“No, Agnes, but I am sick at heart and I am sorely puzzled.”
“Come in,” said she, “and tell us what ails you.”
The young duke entered, threw himself into an arm-chair by the hearth, covering his face with his hands. The Princess Henrietta came and knelt beside him.
“Tell me what ails you, Henry?” she asked.
“I would go hence, Henrietta, to that kingdom where my father wears an immortal crown; these earthly baubles are not worth the lives they cost. It is all so puzzling. What is truth? My Father died for it because he believed in his cause. These regicides who voted his death are as sure as he was that they are in the right. I was in the crowd to-day when a man was being dragged upon a hurdle to his shameful death. His face was placid and even cheerful. A low wretch called out to him, ‘Where is your good old cause now?’ and he answered with a smile, clapping his hand upon his heart, ‘Here it is, and I am going to seal it with my blood.’ And as he went on his way I heard him call out, ‘I go to suffer for the most glorious cause that ever was in the world.’” As if maddened by the sight he had seen, the young duke rose, saying, “It is all wrong! It is all wrong! There is no right; I wish I were out of it!”
They soothed and calmed him, and he remained all the afternoon in the princess’s apartment; but Patience did not like the look of him.
“He is sickening for something,” she said.
Later, when he tried to stand he could not, his head was dizzy; so they carried him to his chamber and they sent for the leech. Perceiving he had high fever, they bled him, and said, “He will be well on the morrow.”
Upon the morrow he was not well; indeed, the fever had gained upon him and his mind wandered. His sister Henrietta would have gone to him, but the leech would not permit it.
“We cannot tell what he is sickening for,” he said.
A few days later the whole court was scared, for it was known that the Duke of Gloucester had been attacked by that terrible disease small-pox, which made as much havoc in high places as in low slums. That he had been up to the very last with the young girls, caused both the queen and Patience great anxiety. They were removed at once from Somerset House and taken to Hampton Court, that they might breathe fresh country air, and so rid themselves of infection. Matters went badly with the prince. The disease assumed its most virulent form, and within a fortnight his wish was granted; he had passed from earth to heaven.
And so the court for a time was thrown into mourning, and Henrietta and Agnes were not permitted to return until there should be no fear of any further infection. When the first shock was over they enjoyed beyond measure their country life; those beautiful gardens laid out by Cardinal Wolsey afforded them never-ending pleasure. True, it was winter time; but the ponds and lakes were frozen over, and after much pleading and the taking of many precautions they were suffered to go upon the ice under the care of some of the gentlemen of the court. Neither of them knew how to skate. Henrietta was timid and would not even try to go alone, holding on to her cavalier’s hand, and sometimes hardly moving; but Agnes grew impatient.
“Look at that young man and the girl out yonder!” she said, pointing to a couple who were skimming over the lake like birds. “It seems so easy.”
As she uttered the words the couple approached and heard her. The young man was handsome, with fair hair and blue eyes, and with a certain nobility of face. The girl was like him; there was no mistaking they were brother and sister.
“You are right. It is quite easy,” said the girl, as she caught Agnes’s last words. “Will you let us help you?”
“Oh, I shall be so glad, so very glad!” answered Agnes. “It is cold and stupid standing here and creeping about.” And before Patience could intervene, she had given one hand to the girl, the other to the young man, and was off between them, slipping and sliding and laughing. But they steadied her and told her how to use her feet, guiding her gently, making it so easy for her that soon she began to feel at home, and with her natural boldness ventured to say:
“Now let me go, let me go alone!”
“You can’t,” said the young man; “better not try to-day.”
“Oh, I must!” said Agnes, and so they let her go.
One step, two steps, then she staggered; but they caught her before she had time to fall.
“You will soon learn; children always do,” said the young man.
“Child!” she cried; “I am not a child. I am over twelve years old, and maid of honour to Princess Henrietta Maria. Who are you?” And she threw up her head and looked him in the face.
His blue eyes laughed quizzically: “I am Reginald Newbolt,” he said, “and this is my sister Ann. We are not grand people like you.”
“I am not grand at all; I am nobody,” Agnes answered, colouring. “I must go; Patience is signing to me, and Princess Henrietta is shivering on the side of the lake. Will you come again to-morrow and help me? I should like to be friends with you.”
“We shall be only too glad,” answered Ann. “We will come every day as long as the frost lasts. Now we will take you back to your people.”
They took her hands and made her skate in time with them.
“To think I can go so well with you and not alone!” she said. “It is annoying.”
“You need not fear,” said Reginald. “In a few days you will go alone; you have the knack of it.”
They reached the edge of the lake where the princess and Patience were standing.
“Oh, it is so cold!” exclaimed the princess, shivering; “and it is very imprudent of you to go off like that, Agnes.”
“I am sorry to have vexed you,” the girl answered; “but it was just lovely. Will you not try, Princess? This is Mr. Reginald Newbolt and his sister Ann.”
Doffing his cap, Reginald bowed to the princess and Ann curtsied. Henrietta having recovered from her ill-temper, as she always did quickly, had seen that to all outward appearance they were gentlefolk. She gave them a stately bow, then repeated:
“Now we must go home, Agnes; I am frozen.”
“I must take off my skates first,” answered Agnes, and she sat down at the edge of the lake while Patience undid the straps. Then she rose.
The princess took Patience’s arm and turned towards home. Agnes followed with Mr. Delarry, who said:
“You make friends easily, Mistress Agnes. Do you know who that young man is?”
“Did you not hear me tell the princess that he is Mr. Reginald Newbolt, and that it is his sister who is with him?” she asked.
“Well, they make a handsome couple,” said Mr. Delarry. “Newbolt! Did you say this man’s name was Newbolt?”
“Yes,” said Agnes; “do you know them?”
“I know him after a fashion,” answered Mr. Delarry. “His father is, I believe, Colonel Newbolt. He is, like many another, an old Parliamentarian who, to feather his nest, turned king’s man and welcomed the king back. The young man is seeking a commission in the king’s guards and will probably get it, to the detriment of other and better men.”
Agnes’s face clouded over. “I am sorry his father was on the wrong side,” she said.
“You need not trouble, or you will have to be sorry for many,” said Mr. Delarry; “but this young fellow is a new recruit, and never drew his sword in the late war. They say he refused a commission in Cromwell’s army.”
“I am glad of that,” said Agnes, her face brightening. “There will be no harm in my skating with them to-morrow, will there, Mr. Delarry?”
“None whatever, if Mistress Patience sees none. He is a handsome fellow, Mistress Agnes, and will make a fine cavalier.”
“I like handsome men,” she answered, with childish glee; “and his sister too is pleasant, but she is prim.”
“I hear her mother is a strict Puritan,” said Mr. Delarry, “and that the colonel had much trouble in getting her to come up to London with his son and daughter. She will not show herself at court, much to his displeasure. Have a care, Mistress Agnes, or you will be turning Puritan too!”
“Oh, no!” Agnes answered, laughing. “I do not like them at all, at least the few of them I have seen in the streets. Patience has pointed them out to me; they are mostly dressed in black, with white ruffles and high hats; they look very stern. The women have black cloaks and white coifs. I like our own pretty clothes best, and our gay cavaliers with their broad hats and sweeping plumes.”
Delarry smiled at her. “You are such a child, Miss Agnes, still. I thought you were to be a grown woman when you came to England.”
“Oh, it is coming, coming very fast!” she said. “Good-bye, Mr. Delarry!” And she left him, and ran forward to join the princess.
“You talk to everybody,” said Henrietta to her reproachfully. “I never knew such a child. What have you been talking to Mr. Delarry about now?”
“Only about my new friends,” answered Agnes. “Oh, you will be nice, Henrietta, and skate with them to-morrow, won’t you? They just fly over the ice. It is the most delicious sensation I ever knew. They say in two or three days I shall go alone, and then,” she added mischievously, “let who can catch me.”