by R S Surtees
“That would do!” ejaculated his lordship—” that would do,” repeated he, delighted at his huntsman’s sagacity—” the very thing, I should say. Only it would be well to let Mrs’Love know we’re coming.”
“By all means,” assented Dicky—” by all means; send little Charley Bates off with a note at once.”
“Or stay,” continued his lordship, thinking it over; “how would it do,” asked he, “to send Mrs Mansell, think you, in the incog, chaise with dry things for us both in case we got wet?”
“A very good idea,” replied Dicky—” a very good idea,” repeated he; “then she’ll be on the spot, and have everything ready against you arrive, for these old postin’- houses are not to be depended upon for comfort since railways were interduced.”
“They’re not,” replied his lordship—” far from it. Mrs’Love’s was very cold the last time I was there; so now,” continued he, button-holing his huntsman, “I’ll send Mrs Mansell to you, and you’ll see and start her at once with dry things of all sorts, you know, ladies’ as well as gentlemen’s, and then you be ready to turn out the instant you are wanted — the instant you are wanted,” repeated his lordship energetically.
“By all means,” assented Dicky.
“You must have the drag run in time, mind, and arrange to lift it occasionally, so that we may check and look about us a little, you know.”
“By all means,” assented Dicky.
“And don’t forget the soothing syrup,” enjoined the lord.
“Certainly not,” replied the huntsman.
“Tell Doiley mulled claret’s the best thing to give it in,” added his lordship.
“By all means,” assented the huntsman.
CHAPTER XLV.
BY BACK WAYS.
JUST AS HIS lordship got back to Jug, the faintest possible tinkle of a little bell in the cornice at the far end of the room announced that the ladies had entered the picture gallery, his lordship having had the bell placed in communication with the door, in order that he might know when visitors entered, and go and enjoy their admiration of the voluptuous paintings and statues with which it abounded from private peep-holes he had established in various parts of the wall.
“Now,” said he to our pliant little friend Jug as he heard the significant bell, “we will join the ladies, if you please, and remember — I’ll take care of the old lady now, if you’ll have the kindness to relieve guard, as it were, when we go to hunt — that is to say, after luncheon, you know — I’ll slip away, and you must ply her with wine, liqueurs, or whatever you think will do her good.”
“I will,” replied the dragoon, with great heartiness.
They then left the room arm-in-arm together, and found things just as his lordship anticipated, the housemaid having returned her charge to Mrs Mansell. With a sneer and a chuck of her chin, as much as to say, “there’s fine copper company for you,” that estimable lady had ushered them into the splendid picture-gallery ranging along the whole west side of the castle, and was commencing her horse-in-the-mill descriptions in a tone of hard-strained civility, when his lordship and Jug entered from the other end, and found our fair friends ranged before a voluptuous Etty that generally brought spectators up short.
“This,” said Mrs Mansell, pointing to the picture, “is the great Mr Apollo, a gent much given to the ladies. He co’abited with Wenus in the Island of Rhodes, where it rained gold, and the earth was clothed, as you see, with lilies and roses. Among other young ladies he made love to was Miss Daphne, who, ‘owever, liked a youngerer gent better nor him. Mr Apollo, therefore, who was an artful man, persuaded the youth to dress up as a gal, and keep company with the nymphs. They, you see, want him to bathe with them in the river near London, which the youth refusing to do, his sex was discovered, and he was stabbed to the ‘eart with many daggers.”
“Poor young man,” sighed Mrs Blunt.
“Ah, that’s a fine thing — a very fine thing, Mrs — Mrs — Mrs — Blunt,” hemmed his lordship, coming too quickly upon them to allow of a retreat—” that’s a very fine thing,” repeated he; “the figures of the ladies, I take it to be quite perfection — you almost fancy you can feel them in the water, it’s so lambent and clear.” Then, turning to Mrs Mansell, he said, “Thank’ee, thank’ee — we needn’t detain you, though,” adding in a whisper, “Mr Thorndyke wants to see you.”
Whereupon Mrs Mansell made a most respectful curtsey, leaving the further lionisation of the ladies to his lordship, whom she couldn’t help thinking a good deal resembled Mr Apollo.
His lordship then took Mrs Blunt on his arm, and proceeded to explain and expatiate to a very uncultivated mind. Still she was all in the assenting enthusiastic mood, though her encomiums were sometimes misplaced. So they strolled down the fine gallery, followed by Angelena and Jug, the latter making faces at his lordship, and grimacing as he went.
“That,” said his lordship, nodding at the back of a full-length statue occupying a newly erected pedestal on the floor of the gallery, “of course, you know: it’s Power’s Greek Slave, that was so much run after by all the young gentlemen at the Great Exhibition. That’s an exact copy of it,” continued he; “just got it home — gave a thousand — no, I’m wrong, fifteen hundred pounds for it. The figure’s beautiful — very beautiful, certainly — full and voluptuous, without any Hottentot Venusish exaggeration about it; but there’s a something about the face,” continued he, turning the figure round on the pivot—” there’s a something about the face that I don’t like — an air of pensive melancholy, if you observe.”
“Well, but she’s a slave, you know,” observed Angelena smartly, now falling into line with Jug before the statue.
“True, my dear — true,” assented the owner. “It isn’t the propriety of the expression that I question; on the contrary, it’s quite correct — quite correct — only the face reminds me of one of the most consummate hypocrites I ever met in my life — a girl with just the same mild subdued expression of countenance, but who was as heartless a hypocrite as ever breathed — a girl so full of artful purity that you would have thought she hadn’t a worldly mercenary idea in her head, and yet whose soul ran upon money, and nothing but money. I really believe she’d have jilted a D’Orsay for any rich Bullock and Hulker out of the City.”
“Horrid wretch!” exclaimed Mrs Blunt, who, like many mammas, professed a thorough contempt for wealth.
Just as his lordship got to this virtuous period of his indignation, a softly stepping servant, in a gorgeous white tie and plain clothes that shone resplendently new, minced up, and announced in a half whisper that luncheon was on the table; whereupon the peer vented the balance of his wrath upon the lady by declaring that he could “whip the figure”; and then again getting Mrs Blunt on his arm, he led the way to the splendid banqueting-room that we had the pleasure of introducing to our readers on the Heartycheer Castle day, where, in newspaper phraseology, there was again a sumptuous display of every delicacy of the season. Our friends, after their long drive in the bracing wintry air, wanted little persuasion on the part of their noble host to induce them to fall to with hearty goodwill, while his lordship, who was not a luncheon eater, sat eyeing the party, and planning how to get the lively young lady away.
“Well,” at length said he, looking at his diminutive watch as he rose from his chair on seeing Angelena was done, though mamma still plodded steadily on over a third plateful of Perigord pie—” well, don’t hurry yourself, my dear Mrs — Mrs — Mrs Blunt, whatever you do,” laying his hand on her shoulder—” don’t hurry yourself, pray — make yourself quite at home, do; and while you are eating, if your lovely daughter will allow me, I’ll just take and show her the horse I propose putting her upon, so that if there is any change or alteration to make it may be done at once.”
So saying, with a sly beckon to Angelena and a knowing wink at Jug, he got the fair lady away, and in an instant was squeezing her arm as lovingly within his on the far side of the door as Jug had
squeezed it on entering. Away they hurried, by back passages and covered ways, to the spacious courtyard of the castle stables behind.
Jug, who felt excessively relieved, as well by his lordship’s departure as by his own escape from hunting, now made an arm at all the bottles within reach, and began helping himself and his mamma-in-law most plenteously to their contents. Indeed, so far as Jug was concerned, his lordship’s order to drug them both was unnecessary, for Jug very soon put himself hors de combat; but as the beverage was mixed, the butler didn’t care to waste it, and very soon after it was placed upon the table, Jug and Mrs Blunt were, as Mr Doiley said, “in the arms of Murphy.”
CHAPTER XLVI.
DAMPED HOPES.
ALTHOUGH THE COAST seemed clear as Lord Heartycheer hurried our fair lady along, yet was every nook and point of observation occupied by curious eyes, all bent on seeing what the new favourite was like.
“‘Deed!” sneered pretty Mary Smith, the stillroom-maid, with a haughty toss of her neatly braided head, “I’m sure she’s nothin’ to make a song about.”
“Fine feathers make fine birds,” remarked Jane Softley, the third housemaid, to Roger Plush, the second footman.
“Well, she’s a contrast to the empress, anyhow!” exclaimed fat Bridget Brown, the head laundry-maid, to Mr Smoothstep, the groom of the chamber.
“The tanner’s wife’s worth ten of her,” rejoined the polite Smoothstep, thereby conveying an indirect compliment to Bridget, who was as plump, if not as pretty, as the empress.
When, however, his lordship, with the fair object of these remarks, appeared on the top of the massive flight of stone steps leading down into the spacious heavily battlemented courtyard, symptoms of animation were apparent, and Mr Spurrier, the bareheaded stud-groom, instantly emerged from a stable leading the beautiful Lady Jane, and had her sideways at the botton of the steps as Angelena reached them.
“Stand by her head,” said his lordship—” stand by her head,” repeated he, adding, “I’ll put the lady on,” stooping to take her foot as he spoke.
Angelena lifted her habit becomingly, and raising her taper foot, his lordship vaulted her into the saddle as light as a cork.
“That’s capital!” exclaimed he, now standing erect, and looking her over as she flounced about adjusting her habit comfortably in the soft saddle—” that’s capital!” repeated he, now helping her to smooth it. “She’ll carry you like a bird; and now, if you’ll come this way, I’ll get my horse, and we’ll be off.”
So saying, his lordship led the way through the coachhouse courtyard into the one beyond, where there was an instantaneous burst of red coats — Dicky Dyke emerging from one stable, Billy Brick from another, Sam from a third, and Mr Paxton, the scarlet-coated but now gaitered second horseman, from a fourth. Quick as thought they were in their saddles, and, at a nod from his lordship, were trotting under the massive archway into the open of the country beyond. The purple-coated feeder stood with the kennel-door in his hand, and, at a signal from Dicky, the glad pack came chiding and gambolling over the green.
“Gently!” exclaimed Dicky—” gently!” repeated he, shaking his head at the mirthful ones, as much as to say, “Don’t make a noise; we’re out on the sly to-day.”
Billy then reined in his horse, and, preceded by Brick, trotted gaily along at that pleasant post-boy pace so familiar to fox-hunters. His lordship and Angelena followed at a convenient distance, his lordship riding a splendid three-hundred-guinea grey that had not been out for a week. As soon as he got him settled on his bit, he sidled up to the lady, and opened a profuse battery of compliments upon her —
“Well, now, she did look lovely! — never saw her look so well. Her brown Garibaldi was so becoming — the colour matched her beautiful hair so nicely. The new feather, too, was charming — the very poetry of a feather! Never saw a habit fit so nicely — set off her bust and figure to such advantage. Liked to see a lady got up with taste — neatly fitting gloves, nice chemisettes, and tasty kerchiefs,” his lordship eyeing Angelena’s delicate pink-and-white one secured with the well-known diamond pin.
So they proceeded through the park, pleased with themselves and each other. The day was still gloriously fine, though the dancing sunbeams and water-marked sun occasionally gave the old lord pause, and made him wish he had brought out Paxton with his macintosh or greatcoat. However, one always hopes the best; always trusts that this day will be the exception to the rule; nor, so long as the bright sunshine lasts, will we believe that so much splendour can be suddenly changed into murky melancholiness.
So thought his lordship as he now proceeded silently along, varying his inward admiration of Angelena with congratulations at his sagacity in sending the dry things to Mrs Easylove’s, and speculations on the probable result of the adventure. Angelena, who was equal to any quantity of compliments, and not knowing how long the opportunity might last, aroused his lordship from his reverie by exclaiming —
“What a lovely tile! What a lovely tile!” repeated she, his lordship evidently not catching the first shot.
“Ah! ah, yes — a Lincoln and Bennett,” replied his lordship, uncovering his old frosty prow—” a Lincoln and Bennett — capital tile-makers they are — have dealt with them for many years,” added he, putting it on again.
“No, it was the horse’s tile I was admiring,” laughed Angelena.
“Oh! ah, yes — the horse’s tail,” rejoined his lordship, now better comprehending her dialect—” oh! ah, yes, he has a very beautiful tail — a very beautiful tail; so has yours — so has yours — carries it well, too — carries it well, too — carry you well, I hope — carry you well, I hope.”
His lordship then again got up the steam of his compliments, all of which Angelena received with the utmost composure and delight. She would have backed herself at ten to one to be a countess. What a dasher she would be, she thought!
It was not until his lordship heard the key again turn in the lock of the private door in the park wall that he was quite at his ease with regard to the start. He feared the pursuit of Mrs Blunt, and doubted whether Jug was enough of a diplomatist to keep her quiet. Now, however, that he was clear of the premises, and about to dive into the bush of the country, he commenced bantering Angelena on her boldness, wondering what mamma would think, and hoping she wouldn’t whip her when she got back. Angelena, on her part, was all giggle and eyes, anxious to fascinate — hardly knowing what to be doing. So they chatted and chirped along the bridle-road through Mr Dockenhead’s fields, turning short to the left at the village of Barnton to avoid passing Mr Cloverfog’s farm at Fodderington.
The hounds having now arrived on the long strip of grass below the banks of Choplaw Wood, Billy Brick looking inquiringly round on Dicky Dyke, who in turn looked round at his lordship, when a nod from the peer sent Billy scuttling one way, Sam another, while the hounds made the old rotten fence crash with their weight as they dashed into cover at the wave of Dicky’s hand.
“Y-o-o-i over, good dogs! Y-o-o-i yo-ver, and wind him!” cheered he, with a slight crack of his whip, when, getting his horse by the head, he put him at the well-accustomed gap in the fence, and presently commenced his exhortations in cover.
My lord and my lady kept on the grassy strip outside, my lord thinking about timing it cleverly for Mrs Easy-love’s, and the lady thinking of his lordship instead of the hounds.
As the latter spread the cover, each following his own line, it suddenly occurred to Dicky that he had forgotten to tell the lad where to begin the drag; and again, that if they should chance to put up a fox, neither of the whips had orders to stop the hounds. As he was riding, “yoicksing,” and meditating what he should do in such an emergency, the whole pack suddenly burst forth in full cry; and while Dicky sat listening with his hand in the air, hoping the best, fearing the worst, their short running, quick turning, and increased music left no doubt on his mind that they were on a fox, and that, too, with a burning scent. Whipping out his horn, he got his
horse by the head, and shot up a ride, in hopes of heading and stopping them in cover.
“Hark!” exclaimed his lordship, breaking off in the middle of an eulogium on Angelena’s figure; “that sounds very like a fox. Hark!” again exclaimed he, holding up his hand.— “A fox for a hundred!” added he.
“No doubt,” replied Angelena, reining in her horse, and depositing her kerchief in the saddle-pocket.
“A fox for a thousand! a fox for five-and-twenty hundred!” continued his lordship, listening. “Follow me!” added he, now clapping spurs to the grey, and hustling him up the ride as hard as ever he could lay legs to the ground.
When his lordship got to the top of the wood he heard Billy’s cheery “Holloa, away,” followed by a shrill “tweet, tweet, tweet” of a horn, that he knew proceeded from Billy’s.
“Hang it, there must be some mistake,” muttered his lordship, opening the bridle-gate out of cover—” there must be some mistake,” repeated he, settling in his saddle for action, and looking about for Dicky.
Meanwhile, the hounds were racing away some three fields ahead, with none but Brick near hand.
“Well,” said his lordship, dropping his elbows and settling for action, “needs must when a certain old gentleman drives, but I’m hanged if I know what he means.”
“We are in for another Silverspring Firs day, I think!” exclaimed Angelena, now touching her mare gently with the whip to make her keep pace with his lordship.
“I’ll bet you a kiss old Dick’s made a mess of it,” replied his lordship, smiling.
“How so?” asked Angelena, feeling if her habit was all right behind.
“You’ll see,” replied his lordship knowingly, as he gathered his horse to ride at a fence.
Over he went, with Angelena close upon him.
“A little more room, or I’ll have to whip you myself!” exclaimed his lordship, who thought Angelena was atop of him.