Read Online Exit Lady Masham by Louis Auchincloss - Free Book Online
Authors: Louis Auchincloss
Tags: General Fiction
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But Harley pressed inexorably on.
"I fear, ma'am, there is another aspect to the case."
"And what is that?"
"I crave Your Majesty's indulgence."
"Speak on, man!"
"My cousin is an excellent and virtuous woman. But there are some ardent young couples today, ma'am, who anticipate the privileges of matrimony without awaiting publication of the banns."
I could picture, with a sinking heart, the drawing-down of my mistress's lips.
"Are you suggesting that Hill and Masham have been such a couple?"
"I'm afraid so, ma'am."
"And with the usual results? Is the girl breeding?"
In the silence I could picture Harley's reluctant nod of assent.
"The strumpet!" the Queen cried in a suddenly sharp tone that brought my hands to my ears. "What will the Duchess say? How can I tell her that Hill has been debauched in my service? That she has been wantoning with this lewd fellow under my very nose?"
Almost before I knew what I was doing, I had rushed into the chamber and thrown myself at the Queen's feet.
"Oh, ma'am, forgive me! Do not cast me off! Had I had the blessing of your kindness and example in my younger years, I should never have so misconducted myself. I have never loved any man as I have loved Your Majesty! I was tricked into submission, ma'am. I did not know what men were!"
"Mistress Hill!" Harley exclaimed sharply. "You forget yourself. Leave this presence."
"No, Mr. Harley," the Queen intervened in a gentler tone. "I think it is you who had better go. Leave me with Hill."
When I was alone with the Queen, she said nothing. She simply sat and looked down at the floor with half-closed eyes. This did not surprise me. I knew her moods. I had learned that when she went into one of her silences, it was not only futile but unwise to try to elicit the faintest response, either of voice or gesture. But I had also learned that she could listen at such times, and that if I did not pester her with questions, she might even follow my argument.
"Your Majesty has told me of a young maid of honor who was sent without father or mother across the water to serve in a strange land. And about what happened to her when she was courted by a handsome prince who professed only honorable intentions."
I then had the boldness to relate to the Queen the story of her own mother. It was a daring proceeding, but I was in a desperate situation. I recited, as if I were reading from a book, how the young Anne Hyde had been sent to Holland to be a maid of honor to the Princess Royal of England, newly married to the Prince of Orange, and how she had there been wooed by the Princess's brother, James, Duke of York, who, like her other brother, the still unrestored King Charles, had found time heavy in exile and pretty maids of honor a pleasant distraction.
The Queen did not so much as nod or stir as I went through the whole sorry tale of her mother's seduction, the secret marriage that had followed the discovery of her pregnancy, the fury of Lord Clarendon, more loyal to the crown than to his own progeny, who had implored Charles II, now back on his throne, to annul the marriage and fling his daughter in the Tower, and, finally, the benign mercy of the King, who had insisted that his backsliding brother should publicly re-wed the mother of his child and make her officially Duchess of York.
"All I have ventured to hope is that Your Majesty might show some of the same compassion that filled the breast of her royal uncle. I have always believed that Your Majesty resembled him more than she did the other Stuarts." I was being obvious in my flattery, for it was known that the Queen liked to have attributed to herself any part of the famed charm and wit of Charles II, but I had to take the risk. "It was perhaps because King Charles had himself prevailed over so many of our sex that he had learned to tolerate our frailty."
"Which my father never did!" the Queen exclaimed suddenly, and I was at once silent. She went on now, in a reflective monotone:
"And yet
"I fear, ma'am, there is another aspect to the case."
"And what is that?"
"I crave Your Majesty's indulgence."
"Speak on, man!"
"My cousin is an excellent and virtuous woman. But there are some ardent young couples today, ma'am, who anticipate the privileges of matrimony without awaiting publication of the banns."
I could picture, with a sinking heart, the drawing-down of my mistress's lips.
"Are you suggesting that Hill and Masham have been such a couple?"
"I'm afraid so, ma'am."
"And with the usual results? Is the girl breeding?"
In the silence I could picture Harley's reluctant nod of assent.
"The strumpet!" the Queen cried in a suddenly sharp tone that brought my hands to my ears. "What will the Duchess say? How can I tell her that Hill has been debauched in my service? That she has been wantoning with this lewd fellow under my very nose?"
Almost before I knew what I was doing, I had rushed into the chamber and thrown myself at the Queen's feet.
"Oh, ma'am, forgive me! Do not cast me off! Had I had the blessing of your kindness and example in my younger years, I should never have so misconducted myself. I have never loved any man as I have loved Your Majesty! I was tricked into submission, ma'am. I did not know what men were!"
"Mistress Hill!" Harley exclaimed sharply. "You forget yourself. Leave this presence."
"No, Mr. Harley," the Queen intervened in a gentler tone. "I think it is you who had better go. Leave me with Hill."
When I was alone with the Queen, she said nothing. She simply sat and looked down at the floor with half-closed eyes. This did not surprise me. I knew her moods. I had learned that when she went into one of her silences, it was not only futile but unwise to try to elicit the faintest response, either of voice or gesture. But I had also learned that she could listen at such times, and that if I did not pester her with questions, she might even follow my argument.
"Your Majesty has told me of a young maid of honor who was sent without father or mother across the water to serve in a strange land. And about what happened to her when she was courted by a handsome prince who professed only honorable intentions."
I then had the boldness to relate to the Queen the story of her own mother. It was a daring proceeding, but I was in a desperate situation. I recited, as if I were reading from a book, how the young Anne Hyde had been sent to Holland to be a maid of honor to the Princess Royal of England, newly married to the Prince of Orange, and how she had there been wooed by the Princess's brother, James, Duke of York, who, like her other brother, the still unrestored King Charles, had found time heavy in exile and pretty maids of honor a pleasant distraction.
The Queen did not so much as nod or stir as I went through the whole sorry tale of her mother's seduction, the secret marriage that had followed the discovery of her pregnancy, the fury of Lord Clarendon, more loyal to the crown than to his own progeny, who had implored Charles II, now back on his throne, to annul the marriage and fling his daughter in the Tower, and, finally, the benign mercy of the King, who had insisted that his backsliding brother should publicly re-wed the mother of his child and make her officially Duchess of York.
"All I have ventured to hope is that Your Majesty might show some of the same compassion that filled the breast of her royal uncle. I have always believed that Your Majesty resembled him more than she did the other Stuarts." I was being obvious in my flattery, for it was known that the Queen liked to have attributed to herself any part of the famed charm and wit of Charles II, but I had to take the risk. "It was perhaps because King Charles had himself prevailed over so many of our sex that he had learned to tolerate our frailty."
"Which my father never did!" the Queen exclaimed suddenly, and I was at once silent. She went on now, in a reflective monotone:
"And yet
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