“I’ll try,” said York, without much conviction. He went through that door and knocked at another, opening it when the King’s voice bade him enter. “I hope I’m not intruding, Sire.”
Charles looked around over his shoulder with a grin. If he knew what his brother had come for he gave no indication of it. “Not at all, James. Come in. You’re just in time to send a message to Minette. What shall I tell her for you?”
The Duke was frowning, occupied with his own thoughts, and he hesitated a moment before answering. “Why—tell her that I hope she’ll be able to pay us a visit soon.”
“That’s what I’m writing about. She hopes to come next year. Well, James—what is it? You’ve got something on your mind.”
James sat down and leaned forward in his chair, thoughtfully rubbing the flat palms of his hands together. “Yes, Sire, I have.” He paused for several moments while his brother waited. “Anne is afraid that you don’t intend to deal kindly with the Chancellor.”
Charles smiled. “Then she’s very much mistaken. I shall deal with him as kindly as I can. But you know as well as I do, James, that this isn’t my doing. I have a Parliament to answer to, and they’re in a mighty critical humour.”
“But your Majesty wouldn’t sacrifice a man who has served you so long and well merely to satisfy Parliament?” James had no very good opinion of the country’s governing body, nor of his brother’s patience and compromises with it. Things will be different, he often told himself, when I come to the throne.
“No one is more appreciative than I of the Chancellor’s service. But the truth of the matter is this: He’s outworn his usefulness, to me and to England. I know he’s blamed for much that hasn’t been his fault, but the fact remains they hate him. They want to be rid of him for good and all. What use can a man be to me once he allows himself to come to that condition?”
“It can be only a temporary condition—if your Majesty will take the trouble to help him out of it.”
“It’s more than that, James. I know he’s loyal and I know he’s able—but nevertheless he’s stuck in a morass of old-fashioned ideas. He won’t realize that the Rebellion changed things here in England. He doesn’t feel with his finger-tips that there are new ways now. What’s worse, he doesn’t want to feel it. No, James, I’m afraid the Chancellor’s day is done.”
“Done? Do you mean, Sire, that you intend putting him aside?”
“I don’t think I have an alternative. He has few enough friends to help him out now—he never took the trouble to buy himself a party of loyal supporters. He was always above such practicalities.”
“Well, then, Sire, since we’re being frank, why don’t you tell me the real reason you intend dismissing him?”
“I have.”
“A different opinion runs through the galleries. There are rumours that your Majesty can forgive him everything but influencing Mrs. Stewart in favour of Richmond.”
Charles’s black eyes snapped. “Rumour is often impertinent, James—and so are you! If you think I’m any such fool as to dismiss a man who could be useful to me because of a woman, you do my intelligence little justice! You must own I’ve been as kind to you as any king has ever been to a brother, and you live as much like a monarch as I do! But in this matter I’m determined. You can’t change my mind, so pray trouble me about it no more.”
James bowed courteously and left the room. Kings, he had always believed, were meant to be obeyed—but the courtiers nevertheless noticed and commented upon a certain coolness between the two brothers.
It was not many days after that that the King summoned Clarendon to meet him at Whitehall, even though the old man had been sick in bed and was living at his house in Piccadilly where Charles and the council often met to save him the journey to the Palace. Charles and the Duke of York went to the Chancellor in his official apartments and there the three of them sat down to talk.
Charles hated this moment, and he might have put it off much longer but that he knew it was necessary. For unrest seethed through all the country and had come to a focus in Parliament; he hoped to lull it again with the promise that all things would be better once the national bogey-man was disposed of. Yet he had known him long and been served by him faithfully. And for all that Clarendon often treated him as though he were an unruly schoolboy, criticizing his friends and his mistresses, telling him that he was not fit to govern, Charles knew that he was the best minister he had had, or was likely to have. Once Clarendon was gone he would be left surrounded by crafty and hostile and selfish men against whose cleverness he must pit his own wits and win—or rule England no longer.
But there was no help for it. Charles looked him straight in the eye. “My lord, as you must be aware there is a general demand for new men in the government. I’m sorry to say this to you, but I shall not be able to hold out against them. They will want you to resign and I think you would serve your own turn best by anticipating them.”
It was a moment before Clarendon answered. “Your Majesty can’t be in earnest?”
“I am, Chancellor. I’m sorry, but I am. As you must know, I’ve not made this decision suddenly—and I’ve not made it alone.” He meant, obviously, that hundreds and thousands of Englishmen were of the same opinion.
But Clarendon chose to misinterpret. “Your Majesty refers, perhaps, to the Lady?” He had never once called Barbara by any other name.
“Truthfully, Chancellor, I do not.” Charles answered softly, refusing to take offense.
“I fear your Majesty’s unworthy companions have had more influence than you are yourself aware.”
“Ods-fish, my lord!” replied Charles with sudden impatience, his eyes flashing. “I hope I’m not wholly deficient in mental capacity!”
Clarendon was once more the school-master. “No one appreciates better than I, Sire, what your natural parts are—and it is for that reason I have long grieved to watch your Majesty losing your time and England’s in the company of such creatures as the Lady and her—”
Charles stood up. “My Lord, I’ve heard you at length on this subject before! You will excuse me if I decline to hear it again! I will send Secretary Morrice to you for the Great Seal! Good-day!” Swiftly and without once glancing back he walked from the room.
Clarendon and York both watched him go. When the door had closed, their eyes slowly veered around to meet. For a long moment they stared at each other, but neither spoke. At last Clarendon bowed and slowly he crossed the room and went out into the sunlight. Clustered there about the doorway, sitting on the grass, lounging against the walls were a score or more of men and some women—the news had spread that the Chancellor was with the King and they had gathered to watch him come out. His eyes narrowed, swept over them, and then as heads turned and mouths smiled he walked between them and on. He heard the murmurs begin to rise.
He had almost crossed the garden when all at once a gay feminine voice cried out to him. “Goodbye, Chancellor!”
It was Lady Castlemaine on the balcony above, surrounded by cages of bright-feathered birds; on one side of her stood Lord Arlington and on the other was Bab May. Though it was almost noon she had jumped out of bed when they told her that he was coming and now she was fastening her dressing-gown as she stood there above him, grinning, her red hair streaming loose.
“Goodbye, Chancellor!” she repeated. “I trust we won’t meet again!”