“The question is, does Monck aspire to the exalted position?”
“He has the power of arms to snatch it from Cromwell, but Monck is no longer a young man. Moreover he is aware of the heavy burden of such a position. Monck is far too shrewd to openly commit himself to restoring the monarchy, but he told me that he believes in a freely elected Parliament.”
“The general never replied to Chancellor Hyde’s overtures.”
“He is too cautious for written replies. Any future overtures would have to be verbal. I will be your go-between.”
Charles leaned forward. “What is his price?”
“Extremely high. Monck would insist on choosing the means to restore you without interference from your courtiers. Once you regained the throne, you would have to make him commander of all your forces. Perhaps even consider him for your Privy Council.”
“I am prepared to offer more—a noble title and a pension.”
“Will you guarantee it, Your Majesty?”
Charles’s smile was sardonic. “I will guarantee the noble title. It will cost me nothing. The pension will be up to Parliament. I haven’t a farthing to my name.” He arose and leaned against the desk. “While I play a waiting game, I think my time would be well spent securing myself a wealthy wife.”
“George Monck said something that I pass along to you. Advice that is as obvious as the nose on your face.”
Amused, Charles stroked his large nose. “Indeed?”
“His exact words were ‘The Stuart Court could do itself some good if it moved from a conspicuously Roman Catholic city to one in a Protestant country.ʹ ʺ
Charles looked favorably impressed. “That reveals his shrewdness. It also tells me he has thought a great deal about effecting a restoration.” Charles smiled. “What will you ask of me, Greysteel Montgomery?”
“When you are crowned King of England, ask me again, Sire.”
“Oh, the news is dreadful!” Velvet looked up from the evening paper she was reading. “Sir George Booth has been arrested.”
All winter, Velvet and Christian Cavendish had eagerly consumed every bit of news they read in the papers or heard by word of mouth. Pockets of Royalist sympathizers across the country were constantly forming, but General John Lambert, head of England’s Parliamentary army, was successful in arresting the leaders and seizing their caches of arms.
“I had every confidence that Booth would turn the tide when he gained control of Cheshire and Lancashire.” Christian sat down before the fire as if the strength had gone out of her legs. “Royalist hopes have been dashed asunder once again.”
Velvet scanned the newspaper, desperately searching for a scrap of positive news. “It says here that the London apprentices have started a petition expressing opposition to the overthrow of Parliament. When they get enough signatures, they intend to present it to the City authorities.”
“Good for them! We shall go into town and sign it. The will of the people should carry some weight with our wretched excuse for a government.” She stood up and stretched. “I ache all over. I’m off to bed, darling. I shall see you at breakfast.”
Velvet sat staring into the flames of the fire. Everything seemed so hopeless. Richard Cromwell was proving such a weak leader that the army was gaining more political power every day. He had given in to all their demands so that they would quell the rapidly spreading unrest. Finally, Cromwell had surrendered his control of all military matters to General John Lambert. Velvet shuddered.
Roundhead soldiers patrol every street!
She went to bed and when she finally succumbed to sleep, one man as usual dominated her dreams.
The dark, lean face of Greysteel Montgomery hovered above her as she floated in the lake at her beloved Roehampton. “I cannot touch bottom.... I am over my head!”
He reached for her. “Trust me to keep you safe, Velvet.”
She clutched his hands and allowed him to draw her close. “You are naked!” Her outrage was a pretense. She had known he was naked all along. Beneath the water, she too was bare. It was all part of her planned seduction to attain Roehampton, the Elizabethan manor that she longed to possess. She had followed her great-grandmother’s advice, and it was working like a charm.
When he carried her from the water and laid her down in the rustling tall grass that grew beside the lake, she smiled. “From the beginning your courtship has been like a military campaign. You believe you have won the battle, but I am the captor and you are my captive. Surrender your control to me.”
His smoldering grey gaze swept over her. “Here is my sword.”
She reached out to stroke his great weapon, and invited, “Sheath your sword, Greysteel!”
Velvet soon lost control as she surrendered to her lover’s passion. She gave everything he demanded, willingly, eagerly, slavishly, and reveled in his mastery. He was dark, dominant and dangerous and she loved him with every fiber of her being. Her need for Roehampton paled beside her need for Greysteel.
As the afternoon shadows lengthened they began to dress. She looked up and suddenly became aware that Greysteel was wearing a Parliamentary uniform. “You changed sides.... You are a traitor!”
“If you love me, it shouldn’t matter.”
Velvet turned away and saw Charles. The king held out his hand to her and murmured her name seductively. She felt torn and looked back into Montgomery’s intense grey eyes. Velvet knew she had no choice. Charles had claimed her heart while she was still a child. She turned and gave her hand to the king.
In the morning when she awoke, the vision of Charles lingered in her memory. At first she refused to acknowledge that she had also dreamed of Greysteel, but as his image and his male scent persisted, Velvet admitted he had been present. She told herself that she had dreamed of him only because he owned her beloved Roehampton. She insisted that her dream reflected reality. Between the two men, there was no contest. She would always choose Charles over that traitorous devil Montgomery.
At breakfast, Velvet carried in the morning paper, shocked at the revelations that the government was two million pounds in debt. “Yesterday, Cromwell called a session of Parliament. Senior officers in the army demand that it be dissolved, and Cromwell has refused.”
“Much as I hate to agree with Cromwell, we must always support Parliament. A military government will trample every freedom. We shall go into town and show our support!”
The dowager ordered the carriage for eleven o’clock, but when Velvet, dressed in warm cloak and boots, joined Christian in the reception hall, Mr. Burke informed them that Davis was repairing a coach wheel and their plans would have to be postponed.
“Delayed perhaps, but not postponed, Mr. Burke. Tell Davis to hurry. Get a couple of footmen to help him.”
When the carriage had still not appeared at the front door by one o’clock, Christian again summoned Mr. Burke. “What is the problem?” She banged her ebony stick on the tiles. “Do you not realize that we are on a mission?”
“That is precisely the problem, my lady.” Burke looked at Velvet, seeking her support. “Your mission would be courting danger. Ladies cannot expose themselves to crowds of people with inflamed tempers. There could be an outbreak of violence.”
Velvet’s chin went up and her eyes flashed defiance.
Christian drew herself up, standing tall and rigid. “Your dire warnings add impetus to our determination. See that the carriage is brought round immediately.”
“Very good, my lady, but I insist upon accompanying you.” Burke scribbled a quick note, then went to the carriage house and gave Davis careful instructions. He told the groom’s son, who often rode on the back of the coach as tiger, to hop aboard and entrusted him with the message.
Christian, wearing her most elaborate hat with a defiant ostrich feather, declined Mr. Burke’s help with a fierce glare as she stepped up into the carriage.
Velvet hid a smile and graciously accepted the steward’s aid. As the coach entered London through the Bishops Gate, excitement began to race through her at the thought of adventure. She noticed there were not many soldiers about and wondered why.
When the carriage slowed to climb Ludgate Hill, the young lad hopped down from his perch at the rear. Then Davis picked up speed again as they reached Fleet Street. Where it widened into the Strand, however, other coaches and groups of people milling about impeded their progress. Mounted soldiers were pushing their way through the crowds.
“We should turn back, Lady Cavendish,” Burke said quietly.
“Retreat would be decidedly lily-livered. We shall press on to the House of Commons to show our support. Tell Davis to turn here and station the coach behind the Savoy Palace. We shall get out and walk from there.”
With Mr. Burke close on their heels, Velvet and Christian, with the aid of her stick, pushed their way through Charing Cross and headed toward St. James’s. It took over an hour to reach the palace grounds, which overflowed with thousands of raucous Londoners who had been rounded up by the military, calling for the overthrow of Parliament and for Richard Cromwell to resign.
“Mad buggers,” Christian shouted in alarm as she and Velvet were swept along by a tide of humanity that was out of control. “How will we ever get to the houses of Parliament?”
“Parliament is dissolved, missus,” a red-faced hooligan shouted. “Lambert’s troops now occupy the house!”
“Good God!” Christian cried. “London is under military rule!”
A well-dressed, but frightened, man pushed Velvet aside. “The soldiers have looted the wine cellars at Whitehall!”
Suddenly, a shot rang out. Without hesitation, Mr. Burke elbowed two people aside, grabbed the dowager countess, wrapped his arm about her narrow shoulders and half dragged her out of the crowd. More shots were fired, and people began to screech and push frantically.
Velvet found herself alone, surrounded by rampaging lunatics. Mounted men in uniform were trampling the crowds. She saw a horse with an empty saddle. It was rearing, its hooves wildly pawing the air, as it screamed in fright. Velvet’s first impulse was concern for the animal. She darted forward, unafraid of the flailing hooves, and grabbed its reins. She tried to calm the frantic horse as those about them fell back screeching and shouting in alarm.
“Velvet!” The deep, powerful voice rolled over her like thunder. Then she felt an arm like a steel band wrap around her waist. She was lifted into the air by the man who towered beside her as he mounted the terrified horse. He set her before him in the saddle. “Hang on!” he thundered as he concentrated on controlling the animal.
By dint of will, Greysteel Montgomery forced the horse to obey him and it charged forward as the crowd in its path parted. “Christ Almighty, Velvet, what the hell is the matter with you? Were you deliberately trying to get yourself killed?”
She looked at him in disbelief.
How did he know where I was? What on earth is he doing here in the midst of this unruly mob?
Then she saw his uniform and recoiled. He was part of the detested Parliamentary military that was responsible for the chaos. In a blind fury, she smote his chest with her fists. “Put me down! We are enemies!”
He ignored the blows. “Where is your coach?” he demanded.
“You arrogant swine! You are wrong if you think you rescued me. I could have handled the horse,” she panted.
“I don’t question your ability with horses. I question your judgment in dashing headlong into danger, involving yourself in affairs that are best handled by men. Where is your carriage? I won’t ask you again, Velvet.”
“It’s behind the Savoy Palace,” she hissed. “I kept your shameful secret about being a Roundhead, but now Christian and Mr. Burke will see you for what you are!”
Greysteel turned the horse toward the river. There were hardly any people behind Suffolk House, so he spurred the animal across the lawn that sloped down to the Thames.
At York House, Velvet spied her chance to escape him. She slid down from the horse and began to run. In a flash he was out of the saddle and after her. He snatched her up like a piece of baggage and slung her over his shoulder, clamping one arm about her thighs, while he clung to the horse’s reins with his other hand, effectively controlling both.
He strode forward with dogged determination until they arrived at the dowagerʹs coach. Davis stood guard, whip in hand, while Mr. Burke plied Lady Cavendish with whiskey from his flask. “Stand aside,” Greysteel directed Burke. When the steward complied, Montgomery tossed Velvet inside without ceremony.
“Thank God you found her!”
“God had nothing to do with it. Her flaming hair was like a beacon.” He lowered his voice. “I’m heading north tomorrow.”
Mr. Burke nodded. “All depends on your success, milord.”
Edinburgh, Scotland
“London was in chaos when I left. General Lambert dissolved Parliament and took over the house. The army has roused the rabble against Richard Cromwell to force his resignation.”
“The mob is not the people; what is the voice of the people?”
“Military government is anathema to the general population, not just the nobility and gentry. The people are vehemently opposed to the overthrow of Parliament. London’s apprentices launched a petition and got twenty thousand signatures. They tried to present it at Guildhall the day I left, but were prevented by a troop of horse. Violence again broke out and people were shot. It is time for a decisive move on your part, General Monck.”
“A return to Parliamentary government is essential. I will issue a letter condemning the actions of my fellow officers. My troops and I declare for the expelled members of Parliament.”
“Will you also declare for a restored monarchy?”
“No. Not yet. When my letter arrives in London, General Lambert will rush his troops to the Scottish Border to oppose me. He will not be successful,” Monck said calmly. “Tell me, how did Charles Stuart manage to move his Court to Breda in Protestant Holland without antagonizing Spain?”