12

I would have left for London immediately even had I not been told, by Mr. Wood of all people, that Cola had fled Oxford after hearing of Sarah Blundy’s death. Both she and the mother were now dead, and I felt that, at the very least, some of his plans were frustrated; his ability to communicate with those supposedly assisting him was greatly diminished, enough to make any further sojourn in Oxford useless to him. More importantly, I considered he must have heard of Prestcott’s descent into frenzy—if Thurloe was right, and the first attempt on Clarendon was to be through the young lunatic, then he would have realized that the move had failed, and it was now time for him to act. This thought, more than any other, prompted me to leave as speedily as possible.

The journey was as tedious as ever, and I lurched along, conscious that my quarry was but a few hours ahead of me. But no one at Charing Cross recalled someone answering his description when I arrived and asked questions. So I went directly to Whitehall, where Mr. Bennet was most likely to be found, and sent in a message begging the favor of an interview with the utmost urgency.

He saw me within an hour; I resented the delay, but had prepared myself for an even greater one.

“I hope this is indeed important, doctor,” he said as I entered his chamber which, I was relieved to see, was empty save for himself. “It is unlike you to cause such a commotion.”

“I believe it is, sir.”

“So tell me what is on your mind now? Still concerned with plots?”

“Indeed. Before I explain, I must ask a question of the greatest importance. When I informed you of my suspicions a few weeks ago, did you communicate this to anyone? Anyone at all?”

He shrugged, and frowned at the implied criticism. “I may have done.”

“It is important. I would not ask otherwise. Less than two days after I spoke to you, Cola murdered my most trusted servant, whose name I gave you. He then came to Oxford and attempted to kill me also. He knew I had a copy of a letter of his, and he stole it, along with another I have kept by me for years. I have since become convinced that the man who has organized his presence here is Lord Bristol. What I must know is whether you informed his lordship of my suspicions.”

Mr. Bennet said nothing for a long while, and I could see that his acute and rapid mind was assessing every aspect of what I said, and every implication of my words as well.

“I hope you do not suggest…”

“Had I done so, I would hardly have raised the subject with you. But your loyalty to your friends is well known, and you would not expect any man so indebted to the king to act against his interest. And I believe Cola’s target is not the king, but the Lord Chancellor.”

This surprised him, and I could see that all now began to make sense to his mind in a way it had not before. “The answer to your question is that I believe I did mention it to Lord Bristol, or at least to one of his entourage.”

“And his relations with Lord Clarendon are as bad as ever?”

“They are. But not so bad that I can easily consider he would act in such a way. He is given to mad schemes, but I have always considered him too weak to achieve much. Perhaps I underestimated him. You had best tell me exactly why you conclude this.”

I did so, and Mr. Bennet listened with the greatest gravity throughout, not even interrupting when I confessed to having been in consultation with John Thurloe. When I finished he again said nothing for a long while.

“Well, well,” he said at last. “A string to hang an earl. It is difficult to credit, and yet I must do so. The question is, how to deal with the situation.”

“Cola must be stopped, and Bristol punished.”

Mr. Bennet looked at me with contempt. “Yes, of course. It is easier said than done, however. Do you know what Cola’s plans are?”

“Not in detail.”

“How he communicates with Lord Bristol?”

“No.”

“Whether there be any letters or hard evidence that he has ever done so?”

“No.”

“And you expect me to do what? Charge his Lordship with high treason, perhaps? You forget, perhaps, that just as I am your patron, so he is mine. If I am to break with him then I must justify myself absolutely, or be accused of perfidy. If Lord Bristol falls, half the court falls with him, and there will be few restraints on Clarendon, and even fewer on the king. The economy of the entire government will be disrupted and crippled. I tell you, Dr. Wallis, I find it hard to credit that the man can risk so much.”

“He does. He must be stopped and you must take his place.”

Bennet looked at me.

“I do not flatter you, or tell you anything you do not feel in your own heart. Your value to His Majesty is well known. Your usefulness in balancing the interests of Lord Clarendon would be equally clear. Lord Bristol’s lack of moderation has prevented him from doing that. You can, and can do so the better if you are free of his foolishness. You have to break with him and pull him down yourself. If you do not, you can be certain that he will fall anyway, and you will go down with him.”

Still he stared at me, but I was emboldened to continue, for I knew that I was speaking to his soul. “You are bound to him as a man who has brought you up, and advanced you, and I know you have repaid that debt loyally and well. But you are not obliged to aid him in evil, and his attempt at such a thing dissolves all ties.”

Finally he reacted to my words, and rested his head in his hands, his elbows on the desk, the most informal posture I had ever seen him adopt. “Throw the dice, you think, doctor? And if Clarendon is killed anyway, and Bristol actually succeeds? What mercy for me and mine, then? Have you thought how long you would retain your position?”

“Not many weeks. But I doubt I would live long in any case, so the loss of office would be a minor problem for me.”

“I have long considered what my true degree should be at court. You no doubt think me ambitious, and so I am. But I am also a good servant to His Majesty, and whatever my own beliefs, I have always advised him for the best. I deserve the highest places in the land. Clarendon has always blocked me, as he blocks all who are younger and more agile than he. And you tell me that I have to abandon a man who has always been kind to me, and keep in power one who detests the very air I breathe?”

“I am not saying you should keep him in power. I am merely pointing out that you must not in any way associate yourself with his murder, and to stay silent is such an association.”

Mr. Bennet considered, then gave way, as I knew he would in due course.

“Do you plan to confront Lord Bristol, or inform Lord Clarendon?” I asked.

“The latter. I have no desire to level accusations. Others can do that. Come, Dr. Wallis. You must come as well.”

I had never before met the Lord Chancellor of England in person although I had, naturally, seen him on numerous occasions. His grotesque corpulence did not surprise me, although the ease with which we gained access to him did. He maintained little formality about his person; no doubt his years in exile, when he lived a hand-to-mouth existence and often even had to do without so much as a servant, had taught him the virtues of simplicity—although I noted that similar deprivation had imparted no such lesson to Mr. Bennet.

As Mr. Thurloe had said, he was a man of the utmost loyalty to his master the king, who had on numerous occasions treated his servant shabbily, and was, in future years, to treat him more shabbily still. Nonetheless, Clarendon stood resolutely by him, steering him away from such follies as he could. He worked tirelessly while in exile for His Majesty’s return, and strove mightily to keep him there once this great goal was accomplished. His great weakness was that which attends many older men, for he placed too great store on the wisdom of age. No doubt, deference is a virtue, but to expect it without question is great foolishness, and stirs up only resentment. Mr. Bennet was one whom he had needlessly antagonized, for in their common good sense they were natural allies. But Clarendon blocked Bennet’s friends on all occasions, and would rarely allow the spoils of office to go to anyone outside his own circle.