The Star Chamber, Volume 2 by W. Harrison Ainsworth

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"Why?" she answered, regarding him fixedly. "Because it may be some
little consolation to me afterwards."

"Then go alone," said Lord Roos savagely. "I will not accompany you."

"I do not ask you to accompany me, but to precede me," she replied.
"Now, mark me, my Lord," she added in a low, firm tone, "and be assured
I do not advance more than I will perform. If you refuse your wife's
dying request, I will go back with Sarah and confess all to her."

Lord Roos looked as if he could have annihilated her, and muttered a
terrible imprecation on her head.

"Threaten me--ay, and execute your threats hereafter if you will,"
continued the Countess in the same low decided tone, "but go you _shall_
now."

Her manner was so irresistible that Lord Roos was compelled to obey, and
he quitted the room without a word more, followed by Diego and Sarah
Swarton, the latter of whom signed to the Countess that she might depend
upon the fulfilment of her wishes.

They had not been gone many minutes before Lady Exeter entered her
litter, and wholly unattended by page or serving-man, except those in
charge of the conveyance, caused herself to be conveyed to Sir Thomas
Lake's lodgings in Whitehall.

CHAPTER IV.

How the forged Confession was produced.

Summoning up all his firmness for the interview with his lady, Lord Roos
entered her chamber, attended by Sarah Swarton, and beheld her propped
up by pillows, bearing evident marks in her countenance of the severe
sufferings she had endured. She was emaciated in frame, and almost livid
in complexion; hollow-cheeked and hollow-eyed; but still with a look of
unaltered affection for him.

Having fulfilled her mission, Sarah left them alone together.

He took the thin fingers extended towards him, and pressed them to his
lips, but scarcely dared to raise his eyes towards his wife, so much was
he shocked by her appearance. It was with difficulty she gave utterance
to the words she addressed to him.

"I thank you for coming to me, my Lord," she said; "but you will not
regret your kindness. We are quite alone, are we not? My eyes are so dim
that I cannot distinguish any object at the other end of the room--but I
can see you plainly enough, my dear Lord."

"We are alone, Elizabeth," replied Lord Roos, in a voice of some
emotion, after glancing around.

"Then I may speak freely," she continued. "What I predicted has
occurred. You did not do well, my dear Lord, to take that phial from me
and place it in other hands. Nay, start not! I know I am poisoned: I
have known it from the first. But I have made no effort to save myself,
for I was aware it was your will I should die."

"O, Elizabeth!" murmured her husband.

"I was aware of it," she repeated; "and as I have never voluntarily
disobeyed you, I would not now thwart your purpose, even though I myself
must be the sacrifice. It was to tell you this that I have sent for you.
It was to forgive--to bless you."

And as she spoke she threw her arms round his neck, and he felt his
cheek wet with her tears.

"This is more than I can bear," cried Lord Roos, in a voice suffocated
by emotion. "I thought I had firmness for anything; but it deserts me
entirely now. You are an angel of goodness, Elizabeth; as I am a demon
of darkness. I do not deserve your forgiveness."

"You will deserve it, if you will comply with the request I am about to
make to you," she rejoined, looking at him beseechingly.

"Whatever it be it shall be granted, if in my power," he rejoined
earnestly. "I would redeem your life, if I could, at the price of my
own. You have exorcised the evil spirit from me, Elizabeth."

"Then I shall die happy," she replied, with a smile of ineffable
delight.

"But the request! What is it you would have me perform?" he asked.

"I would have you spare my mother," she replied. "I know she has been
dealt with in the same way as myself; but I also know there is yet time
to save her."

"It shall be done," said Lord Roos, emphatically. "Where is she?"

"In the adjoining chamber."

"Is Luke Hatton in attendance upon her?"

"In constant attendance," she rejoined. "That man has obeyed you well,
my Lord. But take heed of him: he is a dangerous weapon, and may injure
the hand that employs him. Strike gently upon that bell. He will attend
the summons."

Lord Roos complied; when, to his astonishment and dismay, the curtains
shrouding the entrance to the adjoining room were drawn aside, and Lady
Lake stalked from behind them. Never before had she surveyed her
son-in-law with such a glance of triumph as she threw upon him now.

"You were mistaken you see, Elizabeth," said Lord Roos to his lady.
"Your mother needs no aid. She is perfectly well."

"Ay, well enough to confound you and all your wicked purposes, my Lord,"
cried Lady Lake. "You have not accomplished my destruction, as you
perceive; nor shall you accomplish your wife's destruction, though you
have well-nigh succeeded. Let it chafe you to madness to learn that I
possess an antidote, which I have myself approved, and which will kill
the poison circling in her veins, and give her new life."

"An antidote!" exclaimed Lord Roos. "So far from galling me to madness,
the intelligence fills me with delight beyond expression. Give it me,
Madam, that I may administer it at once; and heaven grant its results
may be such as you predict!"

"Administered by you, my Lord, it would be poison," said Lady Lake,
bitterly. "But you may stand by and witness its beneficial effects. They
will be instantaneous."

"As you will, Madam, so you do not delay the application," cried Lord
Roos.

"Drink of this, my child," said Lady Lake, after she had poured some
drops of the cordial into a glass.

"I will take it from no hand but my husband's," murmured Lady Roos.

"How?" exclaimed her mother, frowning.

"Give it me, I say, Madam," cried Lord Roos. "Is this a time for
hesitation, when you see her life hangs upon a thread, which you
yourself may sever?"

And taking the glass from her, he held it to his wife's lips; tenderly
supporting her while she swallowed its contents.

It was not long before the effects of the cordial were manifest. The
deathly hue of the skin changed to a more healthful colour, and the
pulsations of the heart became stronger and more equal; and though the
debility could not be so speedily repaired, it was apparent that the
work of restoration had commenced, and might be completed if the same
treatment were pursued.

"Now I owe my life to you, my dear Lord," said Lady Roos, regarding her
husband with grateful fondness.

"To him!" exclaimed her mother. "You owe him nothing but a heavy debt of
vengeance, which we will endeavour to pay, and with interest. But keep
calm, my child, and do not trouble yourself; whatever may occur. Your
speedy restoration will depend much on that."

"You do not adopt the means to make me calm, mother," replied Lady Roos.

But Lady Lake was too much bent upon the immediate and full
gratification of her long-deferred vengeance to heed her. Clapping her
hands together, the signal was answered by Sir Thomas Lake, who came
forth from the adjoining room with Luke Hatton. At the same time, and as
if it had been so contrived that all the guilty parties should be
confronted together, the outer door of the chamber was opened, and the
Countess of Exeter was ushered in by Sarah Swarton.

On seeing in whose presence she stood, the Countess would have
precipitately retreated; but it was too late. The door was closed by
Sarah.

"Soh! my turn is come at last," cried Lady Lake, gazing from one to the
other with a smile of gratified vengeance. "I hold you all in my toils.
You, my Lord," addressing her son-in-law, "have treated a wife, who has
ever shown you the most devoted affection, with neglect and cruelty,
and, not content with such barbarous treatment, have conspired against
her life, and against my life."

"Take heed how you bring any charge against him, mother," cried Lady
Roos, raising herself in her couch. "Take heed, I say. Let your
vengeance fall upon her head," pointing to the Countess--"but not upon
him."

"I am willing to make atonement for the wrongs I have done you, Lady
Roos," said the Countess, "and have come hither to say so, and to
implore your forgiveness."

"You fancied she was dying," rejoined Lady Lake--"dying from the effects
of the poison administered to her and to me by Luke Hatton, according to
your order; but you are mistaken, Countess. We have found an antidote,
and shall yet live to requite you."

"It is more satisfaction to me to be told this, Madam, than it would be
to find that Luke Hatton had succeeded in his design, which I would have
prevented if I could," said Lady Exeter.

"You will gain little credit for that assertion, Countess," remarked
Sir Thomas Lake, "since it is contradicted by an order which I hold in
my hand, signed by yourself, and given to the miscreant in question."

"O Heavens!" ejaculated the Countess.

"Do you deny this signature?" asked Sir Thomas, showing her the paper.

Lady Exeter made no answer.

"Learn further to your confusion, Countess," pursued Lady Lake, "that
the wretch, Luke Hatton, has made a full confession of his offence,
wherein he declares that he was incited by you, and by you alone, on the
offer of a large reward, to put my daughter and myself to death by slow
poison."

"By me alone!--incited by me!" cried Lady Exeter; "why, I opposed him.
It is impossible he can have confessed thus. Hast thou done so,
villain?"

"I have," replied Luke Hatton, sullenly.

"Then thou hast avouched a lie--a lie that will damn thee," said Lady
Exeter. "Lord Roos knows it to be false, and can exculpate me. Speak, my
Lord, I charge you, and say how it occurred."

But the young nobleman remained silent.

"Not a word--not a word in my favour," the Countess exclaimed, in a
voice of anguish. "Nay, then I am indeed lost!"

"You are lost past redemption," cried Lady Lake with an outburst of
fierce exultation, and a look as if she would have trampled her beneath
her feet. "You have forfeited honour, station, life. Guilty of
disloyalty to your proud and noble husband, you have sought to remove by
violent deaths those who stood between you and your lover. Happily your
dreadful purpose has been defeated; but this avowal of your criminality
with Lord Roos, signed by yourself and witnessed by his lordship and his
Spanish servant,--this shall be laid within an hour before the Earl of
Exeter."

"My brain turns round. I am bewildered with all these frightful
accusations," exclaimed the Countess distractedly. "I have made no
confession,--have signed none."

"Methought you said I had witnessed it, Madam?" cried Lord Roos, almost
as much bewildered as Lady Exeter.

"Will you deny your own handwriting, my Lord?" rejoined Lady Lake; "or
will the Countess? Behold the confession, subscribed by the one, and
witnessed by the other."

"It is a forgery!" shrieked the Countess. "You have charged me with
witchcraft; but you practise it yourself."

"If I did not know it to be false, I could have sworn the hand was
yours, Countess," cried Lord Roos; "and my own signature is equally
skilfully simulated."

"False or not," cried Lady Lake, "it shall be laid before Lord Exeter as
I have said--with all the details--ay, and before the King."

"Before the King!" repeated Lord Roos, as he drew near Lady Exeter, and
whispered in her ear--"Countess, our sole safety is in immediate flight.
Circumstances are so strong against us, that we shall never be able to
disprove this forgery."

"Then save yourself in the way you propose, my Lord," she rejoined, with
scorn. "For me, I shall remain, and brave it out."

The young nobleman made a movement towards the door.

"You cannot go forth without my order, my Lord," cried Sir Thomas Lake.
"It is guarded."

"Perdition!" exclaimed Lord Roos.

Again Lady Lake looked from one to the other with a smile of triumph.
But it was presently checked by a look from her daughter, who made a
sign to her to approach her.

"What would you, my child?--more of the cordial?" demanded Lady Lake.

"No, mother," she replied, in a tone so low as to be inaudible to the
others. "Nor will I suffer another drop to pass my lips unless my
husband be allowed to depart without molestation."

"Would you interfere with my vengeance?" said Lady Lake.

"Ay, mother, I will interfere with it effectually unless you comply,"
rejoined Lady Roos, firmly. "I will acquaint the Countess with the true
nature of that confession. As it is, she has awakened by her conduct
some feelings of pity in my breast."

"You will ruin all by your weakness," said Lady Lake.

"Let Lord Roos go free, and let there be a truce between you and the
Countess for three days, and I am content."

"I do not like to give such a promise," said Lady Lake. "It will be hard
to keep it."

"It may be harder to lose all your vengeance," rejoined Lady Roos, in a
tone that showed she would not be opposed.

Compelled to succumb, Lady Lake moved towards Sir Thomas, and a few
words having passed between them in private, the Secretary of State thus
addressed his noble son-in-law--

"My Lord," he said in a grave tone, "at the instance of my daughter,
though much against my own inclination, and that of my wife, I will no
longer oppose your departure. I understand you are about to travel, and
I therefore recommend you to set forth without delay, for if you be
found in London, or in England, after three days, during which time, at
the desire also of our daughter--and equally against our own wishes--we
consent to keep truce with my lady of Exeter; if, I say, you are found
after that time, I will not answer for the consequences to yourself.
Thus warned, my Lord, you are at liberty to depart."

"I will take advantage of your offer, Sir Thomas, and attend to your
hint," replied Lord Roos. And turning upon his heel, he marched towards
the door, whither he was accompanied by Sir Thomas Lake, who called to
the attendants outside to let him go free.

"Not one word of farewell to me! not one look!" exclaimed his wife,
sinking back upon the pillow.

"Nor for me--and I shall see him no more," murmured the Countess,
compressing her beautiful lips. "But it is better thus."

While this was passing, Luke Hatton had contrived to approach the
Countess, and now said in a low tone--"If your ladyship will trust to
me, and make it worth my while, I will deliver you from the peril in
which you are placed by this confession. Shall I come to Exeter House
to-night?"

She consented.

"At what hour?"

"At midnight," she returned. "I loathe thee, yet have no alternative but
to trust thee. Am I free to depart likewise?" she added aloud to Sir
Thomas.

"The door is open for you, Countess," rejoined the Secretary of State,
with mock ceremoniousness. "After three days, you understand, war is
renewed between us."

"War to the death," subjoined Lady Lake.

"Be it so," replied the Countess. "I shall not desert my post."

And assuming the dignified deportment for which she was remarkable, she
went forth with a slow and majestic step.

Luke Hatton would have followed her, but Sir Thomas detained him.

"Am I a prisoner?" he said, uneasily, and glancing at Lady Lake. "Her
ladyship promised me instant liberation."

"And the promise shall be fulfilled as soon as I am satisfied my
daughter is out of danger," returned Sir Thomas.

"I am easy, then," said the apothecary. "I will answer for her speedy
recovery."

CHAPTER V.

A visit to Sir Giles Mompesson's habitation near the fleet.

Allowing an interval of three or four months to elapse between the
events last recorded, and those about to be narrated, we shall now
conduct the reader to a large, gloomy habitation near Fleet Bridge. At
first view, this structure, with its stone walls, corner turrets,
ponderous door, and barred windows, might be taken as part and parcel of
the ancient prison existing in this locality. Such, however, was not the
fact. The little river Fleet, whose muddy current was at that time open
to view, flowed between the two buildings; and the grim and frowning
mansion we propose to describe stood on the western bank, exactly
opposite the gateway of the prison.

Now, as no one had a stronger interest in the Fleet Prison than the
owner of that gloomy house, inasmuch as he had lodged more persons
within it than any one ever did before him, it would almost seem that he
had selected his abode for the purpose of watching over the safe custody
of the numerous victims of his rapacity and tyranny. This was the
general surmise; and, it must be owned, there was ample warranty for it
in his conduct.

A loop-hole in the turret at the north-east angle of the house
commanded the courts of the prison, and here Sir Giles Mompesson would
frequently station himself to note what was going forward within the
jail, and examine the looks and deportment of those kept by him in
durance. Many a glance of hatred and defiance was thrown from these
sombre courts at the narrow aperture at which he was known to place
himself; but such regards only excited Sir Giles's derision: many an
imploring gesture was made to him; but these entreaties for compassion
were equally disregarded. Being a particular friend of the Warden of the
Fleet, and the jailers obeying him as they would have done their
principal, he entered the prison when he pleased, and visited any ward
he chose, at any hour of day or night; and though the unfortunate
prisoners complained of the annoyance,--and especially those to whom his
presence was obnoxious,--no redress could be obtained. He always
appeared when least expected, and seemed to take a malicious pleasure in
troubling those most anxious to avoid him.

Nor was Sir Giles the only visitant to the prison. Clement Lanyere was
as frequently to be seen within its courts and wards as his master, and
a similar understanding appeared to exist between him and the jailers.
Hence, he was nearly as much an object of dread and dislike as Sir Giles
himself, and few saw the masked and shrouded figure of the spy approach
them without misgiving.

From the strange and unwarrantable influence exercised by Sir Giles and
the promoter in the prison, they came at length to be considered as part
of it; and matters were as frequently referred to them by the
subordinate officers as to the warden. It was even supposed by some of
the prisoners that a secret means of communication must exist between
Sir Giles's habitation and the jail; but as both he and Lanyere
possessed keys of the wicket, such a contrivance was obviously
unnecessary, and would have been dangerous, as it must have been found
out at some time by those interested in the discovery.

It has been shown, however, that, in one way or other, Sir Giles had
nearly as much to do with the management of the Fleet Prison as those to
whom its governance was ostensibly committed, and that he could, if he
thought proper, aggravate the sufferings of its unfortunate occupants
without incurring any responsibility for his treatment of them. He
looked upon the Star-Chamber and the Fleet as the means by which he
could plunder society and stifle the cry of the oppressed; and it was
his business to see that both machines were kept in good order, and
worked well.

But to return to his habitation. Its internal appearance corresponded
with its forbidding exterior. The apartments were large, but cold and
comfortless, and, with two or three exceptions, scantily furnished.
Sumptuously decorated, these exceptional rooms presented a striking
contrast to the rest of the house; but they were never opened, except on
the occasion of some grand entertainment--a circumstance of rare
occurrence. There was a large hall of entrance, where Sir Giles's
myrmidons were wont to assemble, with a great table in the midst of it,
on which no victuals were ever placed--at least at the extortioner's
expense--and a great fire-place, where no fire ever burnt. From this a
broad stone staircase mounted to the upper part of the house, and
communicated by means of dusky corridors and narrow passages with the
various apartments. A turnpike staircase connected the turret to which
Sir Giles used to resort to reconnoitre the Fleet Prison, with the lower
part of the habitation, and similar corkscrew stairs existed in the
other angles of the structure. When stationed at the loophole, little
recked Sir Giles of the mighty cathedral that frowned upon him like the
offended eye of heaven. His gaze was seldom raised towards Saint Paul's,
or if it were, he had no perception of the beauty or majesty of the
ancient cathedral. The object of interest was immediately below him. The
sternest realities of life were what he dealt with. He had no taste for
the sublime or the beautiful.

Sir Giles had just paid an inquisitorial visit, such as we have
described, to the prison, and was returning homewards over Fleet Bridge,
when he encountered Sir Francis Mitchell, who was coming in quest of
him, and they proceeded to his habitation together. Nothing beyond a
slight greeting passed between them in the street, for Sir Giles was
ever jealous of his slightest word being overheard; but he could see
from his partner's manner that something had occurred to annoy and
irritate him greatly. Sir Giles was in no respect changed since the
reader last beheld him. Habited in the same suit of sables, he still
wore the same mantle, and the same plumed hat, and had the same long
rapier by his side. His deportment, too, was as commanding as before,
and his aspect as stern and menacing.

Sir Francis, however, had not escaped the consequences naturally to be
expected from the punishment inflicted upon him by the apprentices,
being so rheumatic that he could scarcely walk, while a violent cough,
with which he was occasionally seized, and which took its date from the
disastrous day referred to, and had never left him since, threatened to
shake his feeble frame in pieces; this, added to the exasperation under
which he was evidently labouring, was almost too much for him. Three
months seemed to have placed as many years upon his head; or, at all
events, to have taken a vast deal out of his constitution. But,
notwithstanding his increased infirmities, and utter unfitness for the
part he attempted to play, he still affected a youthful air, and still
aped all the extravagances and absurdities in dress and manner of the
gayest and youngest court coxcomb. He was still attired in silks and
satins of the gaudiest hues, still carefully trimmed as to hair and
beard, still redolent of perfumes.

Not without exhibiting considerable impatience, Sir Giles was obliged to
regulate his pace by the slow and tottering steps of his companion, and
was more than once brought to a halt as the lungs of the latter were
convulsively torn by his cough, but at last they reached the house, and
entered the great hall, where the myrmidons were assembled--all of whom
rose on their appearance, and saluted them. There was Captain Bludder,
with his braggart air, attended by some half-dozen Alsatian bullies;
Lupo Vulp, with his crafty looks; and the tipstaves--all, in short, were
present, excepting Clement Lanyere, and Sir Giles knew how to account
for his absence. To the inquiries of Captain Bludder and his associates,
whether they were likely to be required on any business that day, Sir
Giles gave a doubtful answer, and placing some pieces of money in the
Alsatian's hand, bade him repair, with his followers, to the "Rose
Tavern," in Hanging Sword Court, and crush a flask or two of wine, and
then return for orders--an injunction with which the captain willingly
complied. To the tipstaves Sir Giles made no observation, and bidding
Lupo Vulp hold himself in readiness for a summons, he passed on with his
partner to an inner apartment. On Sir Francis gaining it, he sank into
a chair, and was again seized with a fit of coughing that threatened him
with annihilation. When it ceased, he made an effort to commence the
conversation, and Sir Giles, who had been pacing to and fro impatiently
within the chamber, stopped to listen to him.

"You will wonder what business has brought me hither to-day, Sir Giles,"
he said; "and I will keep you no longer in suspense. I have been
insulted, Sir Giles--grievously insulted."

"By whom?" demanded the extortioner.

"By Sir Jocelyn Mounchensey," replied Sir Francis, shaking with passion.
"I have received a degrading insult from him to-day, which ought to be
washed out with his blood."

"What hath he done to you?" inquired the other.

"I will tell you, Sir Giles. I chanced to see him in the court-yard of
the palace of Whitehall, and there being several gallants nigh at hand,
who I thought would take my part--ough! ough! what a plaguey cough I
have gotten, to be sure; but 't is all owing to those cursed
'prentices--a murrain seize 'em! Your patience, sweet Sir Giles, I am
coming to the point--ough! ough! there it takes me again. Well, as I was
saying, thinking the gallants with whom I was conversing would back me,
and perceiving Mounchensey approach us, I thought I might venture"--

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