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Updated: June 1, 2025
"The Duke of Clarence, male heir to the throne," said the heir of Latimer, "is Lord Warwick's son-in-law, and therefore akin to you, Sir John." "That is true," observed Coniers, musingly. "Not ill thought of, sir," said Sir Geoffrey Gates; "and my advice is to proclaim Clarence king and Warwick lord protector. We have some chance of the angels then."
To you, Sir John Coniers, in the queen's name, I promise an earldom and the garter; to you, the heirs of Latimer and Fitzhugh, the high posts that beseem your birth; to all of you, knights and captains, just share and allotment in the confiscated lands of the Woodvilles and the Yorkists; to you, brethren," and addressing the Lollards, his voice softened into a meaning accent that, compelled to worship in secret, they yet understood, "shelter from your foes and mild laws; and to you, brave soldiers, that pay which a king's coffers alone can supply.
"And what, Sir John Coniers," exclaimed Robin, rudely, "what honour had your gray hairs till the steel cap covered them? What honour, I say, under lewd Edward and his lusty revellers? You were thrown aside, like a broken scythe, Sir John Coniers! You were forsaken in your rust! Warwick himself, your wife's great kinsman, could do nought in your favour!
He answered the languid questions put to him with a certain spirit that kept up talk, and left a favourable impression of his agreeable qualities. But the lady with whom he got on the best was one who had no daughters out, a handsome and witty woman of the world, Lady Frederick Coniers. It is your first ball at Almack's then, Mr. Leslie?" "My first." "And you have not secured a partner?
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