‘Indeed she will not,’ said the General.
Ella Longridge replied vehemently, ‘There will be plenty to see that she does not.’
‘His Majesty would never allow it to happen. He knows the will of the people,’ replied the General.
‘Since Buckingham’s death—and thank God for it—the Queen has become his chief adviser,’ said Luke Longridge.
‘That is an exaggeration,’ retorted the General.
‘He has a doting fondness for her—after ignoring her for years and disliking his marriage he has now become an uxorious husband led by the nose, and who leads him … the frivolous Catholic Frenchwoman!’
‘The King is happy in his marriage which is fruitful,’ said the General. ‘And you will admit, my friend, that that is good for the country. It is not true to say that the King listens only to his wife. His Majesty has a great sense of duty.’
‘Is that why there is so much unrest in the country?’ demanded Luke Longridge. ‘It will not be endured, I promise you, General. There is murmuring throughout the land. The country is divided against itself, and by God, I know on which side I shall be … and it won’t be the King’s.’
‘You speak treason, Longridge. Have a care,’ said the General.
‘I speak what’s in my mind,’ answered Luke Longridge.
‘Be careful, Luke,’ said his sister.
I wanted to beg of the General to be careful too. I looked at him pleadingly, but he seemed unaware of me.
A passion burned in Luke Longridge. He cried suddenly: ‘I’d see an end to all this. It’ll come to it in time. A king to rule without a parliament …’
‘Luke, Luke!’ cried his sister.
I suddenly had a vision of the men I had seen in the pillory. A short while ago I had thought this was an enchanted night and now it had suddenly changed. I had been dreaming and I was awakening rudely to reality. Nothing was quite what it seemed. In that ballroom the debonair King and his fascinating wife were receiving the homage of subjects; they did not know some of their subjects such as the Longridges were murmuring against them. Or did they? What of the men in the pillory?
‘You have insulted the King,’ I heard General Tolworthy cry, ‘and the King’s army. I shall need satisfaction for this.’
‘You know full well I speak sound sense …’
‘I know full well you have insulted the King and his army. You may name the meeting-place.’
‘You will hear from me in due course.’ Luke Longridge bowed and walked towards the house, his sister clinging to his arm.
‘It is chill,’ said the General to me. ‘Allow me to escort you back to your friends.’
I stood my ground firmly.
‘What did it mean? You are surely not going to fight!’
‘He left me no alternative.’
‘But he merely expressed a point of view.’
‘Which was an insult to the Crown.’
‘But not a personal one.’
‘My dear Mistress Landor, I am one of the King’s generals. Any insult to His Majesty is indeed my affair.’
‘Does this mean there is to be a duel?’
‘Pray do not concern yourself. It is a fairly commonplace affair.’
‘Which could end in death for one of you!’
‘It may be, but perhaps not.’
‘But …’
‘Come, it grows chill.’
He would say no more and I could do nothing but allow him to lead me in.
He took me to Senara, who was in conversation with a group of people, then he bowed and departed.
I was glad when the evening was over and we were going home in the coach, and so relieved that no one was inclined for talk. I could not stop thinking of what seemed to me that most stupid quarrel which could well end in the death of one of those men.
I knew that if Richard Tolworthy were killed I should remember him for the rest of my life.
I passed a miserable two days. Richard Tolworthy would either be killed himself or kill the other man and I could see no satisfaction in that. How could he have challenged the other in such a senseless manner? Luke Longridge had insulted the King. Well, I thought angrily, let the King fight his own battles. But Richard was a soldier … a man of ideals. Of course he was right, I assured myself. I thought of Luke Longridge, whom I was beginning to hate because he had provoked this duel.
I asked Carlotta what happened if a man was injured in a duel.
‘Sometimes he dies. It depends how deeply he is wounded.’
‘And the other?’
‘He would probably flee the country. After all, it is murder.’
‘I see.’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘I just wanted to know. I am supposed to learn the manners and customs of the nobility, am I not?’
‘That’s a morbid one.’
‘I have noticed that many customs end in morbidity.’
‘Ah,’ she mocked, ‘you are becoming quite observant.’
I tried to put the matter from my mind and to tell myself how foolish I was to be involved with a man whom I had met only twice, though they had been two unusual occasions—one when he had saved me from a horrible fate and the other when he had challenged a man to a duel.
How I wished that Bersaba was with me so that I could tell her of my feelings. I wondered when my mother would suggest that I returned. She would need me to nurse Bersaba, to be with her perhaps. She had said in her letter that it would be a long time before she was herself again and had hinted that the disease was still in the village and that she did not want me to return until the neighbourhood was, as she called it, clean again.
I thought that if General Richard Tolworthy were killed or fled abroad I would like to go home without delay. Then I could put the whole London adventure behind me and look back on it as something rather unreal.
However, a week after the ball Richard Tolworthy called at the house.
By great good fortune Senara had gone to say goodbye to neighbours, for she was leaving the following week. Carlotta had accompanied her and Sir Gervaise was at Whitehall. The General was apparently making a conventional call on Sir Gervaise and when he was told that he was not at home he asked if I were.
As a result I was receiving him in the parlour which led from the hall, and floods of joy swept over me when I saw that he was neither maimed nor had the look of a fugitive.
‘I was hoping that I might have a word with you,’ he said, ‘because you were so concerned on the night of the ball.’
‘Indeed I was. I could not understand what had happened so suddenly and why it should be a matter of life and death.’
‘I had no alternative in the circumstances but to deliver the challenge. However, it was not taken up. I received an apology. The offending words were retracted and so we did not meet.’
‘I am so pleased. It was wise of him.’
‘He is a Puritan at heart and doesn’t believe in shedding blood.’
‘Then I think there is a great deal to be said for Puritanism.’
He smiled at me. ‘You were really anxious, I know.’
‘Oh, I was. I thought you would be killed or perhaps kill him and have to go into exile.’
‘I am grateful for your concern.’
‘But of course I’m concerned. Didn’t you save me!’
‘That was nothing.’
I just could not help showing my relief and I think he was very pleased.
He talked for some time, asking me more questions about my home. He wanted to know how long I was staying in London and when I told him that I might be leaving at any time and that it would depend on my sister’s health and when the plague vanished from the neighbourhood, he listened very intently.
Then he said: ‘I hope you will stay a long while. Or do you get a little homesick?’