The feet of Love.
—Swinburne.
When Mistress Peyton had finally dismissed Daniel Pye from her service, after having seen him flogged and pilloried, she felt somewhat more at ease.
She did not see his gesture of menace, nor would it have perturbed her much if she had. Her spite against the man had been cruel and petty; she knew that well enough, yet did not strive to curb it. Daniel Pye's howls at the whipping post had momentarily served to alleviate the anxieties which as day succeeded day grew in intensity.
The recollection of what she had made the man suffer was a solace, even now when the awful truth had begun to dawn upon her that in striving to gain too much, she had very likely lost all.
Rumour was overbusy with Michael Kestyon; his popularity with the king, my lord Shaftesbury's interest in the long-forgotten peerage claim, Michael's long conferences with Sir William Jones, the Attorney-General, who was said to know more about peerages, genealogies and legitimacies than did His Majesty's heralds and poursuivants themselves.
On Sir William's report would the king ultimately base his decision as to Michael Kestyon's claim to the title and estates of Stowmaries and Rivaulx. The matter would not be referred to the Lord's House of Parliament. It[279] was absolutely one for the Crown to decide, nor were the noble lords like to go against the king's mandate.
Already gossips averred that Michael had paid the Attorney-General one hundred thousand pounds for the report which was ready to be submitted to the king, and which, needless to say, was entirely in favour of the claim. It was also said that my lord Stowmaries—financially somewhat straitened for the moment, through a recent highly-interesting adventure—was unable to cap his cousin's munificent gift to Sir William Jones by one more magnificent still.
All these rumours were quite sufficient forsooth to cause the fair Julia many an anxious hour and many a sleepless night. Small wonder that when she thought of Daniel Pye and of that hundred thousand pounds paid to the Attorney-General, which could not have been forthcoming if the miserable reprobate had delivered his mistress' letter to M. Legros in good time, no wonder, then, I say, that her small teeth, sharp as those of a wildcat, set against each other in an agony of impotent rage. She would have liked to have got hold of her serving-man again, to have had him flogged again and again, ay, and to have had him deprived of his right hand for his disobedience and his lies.
The "might-have-beens" were becoming positive torture to the beautiful Julia; and my lord Stowmaries had not yet come home. He had gone to Rome for the dispensation, which he told her in an ardent and passionate missive, he had at last obtained. Julia laughed, a cruel, callous, bitter laugh when she read that letter. Of a truth the man must be mad who could for a moment think that she would wed him in poverty and obscurity, just as readily as she would in riches.
[280] Cousin John did his best to console her. He vowed that rumour lied, that Michael was spending his money in a vain endeavour to retain his popularity with the king, in which he was rapidly failing, and that no sensible-minded person did believe that His Majesty would uphold the preposterous claims of a sworn adventurer, wastrel and soldier of fortune, against so elegant a gentleman as was my lord of Stowmaries.
After one of these visits from Cousin John, Mistress Julia always felt temporarily relieved of her anxiety. She had thought it best for the moment to keep aloof from the society of London; she was nowhere to be seen in public, not even at the playhouses where she had once been the cynosure of all eyes. She wanted to see her future fully assured before she again encountered the admiring glances of the men, or the oft ill-natured comments of the women.
When at last Lord Stowmaries, back from his journey to Rome, was once more at her feet, glowing with loving ardour, triumphant in his success, Mistress Peyton remained cold and unresponsive. He did not notice this, for he was full of projects and happy that the path which led him to her arms had at last been made quite clear.
"Madly as I longed for your sweet presence, my best beloved," he said whilst he covered her little hands with kisses, "I would not return until I knew that I was free—quite free to place mine all, my name, my fortune at your feet. I journeyed to Rome, dear heart, immediately after the esclandre in Paris. I paid Michael his due, then flew to His Holiness. When I returned homewards I was eager to know how the scandal had spread. Nay, there is no fear now that the tailor will strive to interfere with me. There are various rumours current about the wench, one of them being that she will go to a nunnery, the other,[281] which gains far more credence, being that King Louis, vastly interested in her adventure hath cast eyes of admiration on her and that Mme. de Montespan is deadly jealous. Be that as it may, Monseigneur the Archbishop of Paris is now wholly on my side. He gave me letters to His Holiness, whom I saw in Rome."
"And what said His Holiness, the Pope?" queried Julia, feigning eagerness which she was far from feeling.
"He has granted me religious dispensation to contract a fresh marriage, provided the courts of England do dissolve my present bonds, which is a foregone conclusion," said the young man triumphantly. "My man of law tells me that it will be but a matter of a few weeks, and that the case will be decided as soon as heard, provided the tailor's wench doth not defend it, which under the circumstances she is not like to do. I am free, dear heart, free to marry you as soon as you will consent."
Then, as she did not reply, he added reproachfully:
"You are silent, my Julia; will you not tell me that you are glad?"
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