But at Court they thought otherwise and in the Groom Porter’s lodgings they were betting great odds that the Duke would lose his head. The King had stripped him of his offices and bestowed most of them elsewhere. His enemies, and they were numerous and powerful, had been unceasingly active. He had, however, at least one ardent supporter—his cousin, Castlemaine.
Just three days earlier Barbara and her woman Wilson had been driving along Edgware Road in the early evening, returning from Hyde Park. All at once a lame tattered old beggar appeared from some hiding-place and dragged himself before the coach, forcing it to stop. The coachman, swearing furiously, leaned down to strike him with his whip but before he could do so the beggar had reached the open window and was hanging onto the door, holding a dirty palm toward the Countess.
“Please, your Ladyship,” he whined. “Give alms to the poor!”
“Get out of here, you stinking wretch!” cried Barbara. “Throw him a shilling, Wilson!”
The beggar hung on stubbornly, though the coach had started to move again. “Your Ladyship seems mighty stingy for one who wears thirty thousand pound in pearls to a play-house.”
Barbara glared at him swiftly, her eyes darkened to purple. “How dare you speak to me thus? I’ll have you kicked and beaten!” She gave his wrist a sudden hard rap with her fan. “Get off there, you rogue!” She opened her mouth and let out a furious yell. “Harvey!
The coachman hauled at his reins and as the wheels were slowing the beggar gave her a grin, displaying two rows of beautiful teeth. “Never mind, my lady. Keep your shilling. Here—I’ll give you something, instead.” He tossed a folded paper into her lap. “Read it, as you value your life.” And then, as the coach stopped and the footmen ran to grab him he dodged swiftly, no longer limping, and was gone. He turned once to thumb his nose at them.
Barbara watched him running away, glanced at the paper in her lap and then suddenly unfolded it and began to read. “Pox on this life I’m leading,” she whispered. “Expect me in two or three days. And see that you do your part. B.” She gave a gasp and a little cry and leaned forward, but he was gone.
Barbara was scared. She had heard the rumours too—his Majesty’s patience was at an end and this time Buckingham must suffer for his treacherous impertinence. Exile was the easiest punishment they saw for him. And she knew her cousin’s malice well enough to realize that if he went down he would drag her with him. Every time she saw Charles she begged him, frantically, to believe that the Duke was innocent, that it was a plot of his enemies to ruin him. But he paid her scant attention, merely asking her with lazy amusement why she should be so concerned for a man who had done her very little good and some harm.
“He’s my cousin, that’s why! I can’t see him abused by scoundrels!”
“I think the Duke can hold his own with any scoundrel that ever wore a head. Don’t trouble yourself for him.”
“Then you
“I’ll hear him out, but what will happen after that I can’t say. I’d like to see how well he can defend himself—and I don’t doubt he’ll entertain us with some very ingenious tale.”
“How
“And I doubt not he has similar hopes for them.”
The hearing was set for the next day and Barbara was determined to get some kind of promise from him, though she knew that the King regarded promises much as he did women—it should not be too much trouble to keep them. As usual, she sought to gain her ends by the means to which he was least amenable.
“But Buckingham’s innocent, Sire, I know he is! Oh, don’t let them trick you! Don’t let them
Charles looked at her sharply. He had never, in his life, done anything he actually did not want to do, though he had done many things to which he was indifferent in order to buy his own peace or something else he wanted. But he had endured years of stubborn conflict with a domineering mother and hated the mere suggestion that he was easily led. Barbara knew that.
Now as he answered her his voice was hard and angry. “I don’t know what stake you have in this, madame, but I’ll warrant you it’s a big one. You’d never be so zealous in another person’s cause otherwise. But I’m heartily sick of listening to you. I’ll make my own decisions without the help of a meddlesome jade!”
They were walking along the south-east side of the Privy Garden, where it was flanked by a row of buildings containing apartments of several Court officials. The day was hot and still and many windows were open; several ladies and gentlemen strolled in other nearby walks or lounged on the grass. Nevertheless Barbara, growing angry, raised her voice.
