CHAPTER XV
A SQUIRE OF DAMES
To one of the travellers the bustle of the town was more than welcome.It was Thursday, market day at East Grinstead, and the post-boyspushed their way with difficulty through streets teeming with chapmenand butter women, and here bleating with home-going sheep, there alivewith the squeaking of pigs. Outside the White Lion a jovial half-dozenof graziers were starting home in company; for the roads were lesssafe on market evenings than on other days. In front of the DorsetArms, where our party was to lie, a clumsy carrier's wain, drawn byoxen, stood waiting. The horse-block was beset by country bucksmounting after the ordinary; and in the yard a post-chaise was beingwheeled into place for the night by the united efforts of two or threestable-boys. Apparently it had just arrived, for the horses, stillsmoking, were being led to the stable, through the press of beasts andhelpers.
Sophia heaved a sigh of relief as the stir of the crowd sank into hermind. When Lady Betty, after they had washed and refreshed themselves,suggested that, until the disorder in the house abated, they would beas well strolling through the town, she made no demur; and, followedat a distance by one of the grooms, they sallied forth. The firstthing they visited was the half-ruined church. After this they satawhile in the churchyard, and then from the Sackville Almshouseswatched the sun go down behind the heights of Worth Forest. They wereboth pleased with the novel scene, and Lady Betty, darting her archglances hither and thither, and counting a score of conquests, drewmore than one smile from her grave companion. True, these were butinterludes, and poor Sophia, brooding on the future, looked sad twicefor once she looked merry; but their fright in the carriage had nopart in her depression. She had forgotten it in the sights of thisstrange place, when, almost at the inn door, it was forced on herattention.
She happened to look back to see if the groom was following, and toher horror caught sight, not of the groom, but of the cloakedstranger. It was evident he was dogging them, for the moment his eyesmet hers he vanished from sight. There were still many abroad, belatedriders exchanging last words before they parted, or topers crackingjokes through open windows; and the man was lost among these beforeLady Betty had even seen him.
But Sophia had seen him; and she felt all her terrors return upon her.Trembling at every shadow--and the shadows were thickening, thestreets were growing dark--she hurried her companion into the inn, norrested until she had assured herself that the carriage was under lockand key in the chaise-house. Even then she was in two minds;apprehending everything, seeing danger in either course. Should shewithdraw the diamonds from their hiding-place and conceal them abouther person, or in the chamber which she shared with Lady Betty? Orshould she leave them where they were in accordance with Sir Hervey'sdirections?
She decided on the last course in the end, but with misgivings. Thefate of the jewels had come in her mind to be one with her fate. Tolose them while they were in her care seemed to her one withappropriating them; and from that she shrank with an instinctive,overmastering delicacy, that spoke more strongly than any words of themistake she had made in her marriage. They were his family jewels, hismother's jewels, the jewels of the women of his house; and she pantedto restore them to his hands. She felt that only by restoring them tohim safe, unaccepted, unworn, could she retain her self-respect, orher independence.
Naturally, Lady Betty found her anxiety excessive; and at supper,seeing her start at every sound, rallied her on her timidity. Theirbedroom was at the back of the house, and looked through one window onthe inn-yard and the door of the chaise-house. "I see clearly youwould have been happier supping upstairs," Lady Betty whispered,taking advantage of an instant when the servants were out of earshot."You do nothing but listen. Shall I go up, as if for my handkerchief,and see that all is right?"
"Oh, no, no!" Sophia cried.
"Oh, yes, yes, is what you mean," the other retorted good-naturedly;and was half-way across the room before Sophia could protest. "I amgoing upstairs for something I've forgotten, Watkyns," Lady Bettycried, as she passed the servant.
Sophia, listening and balancing her spoon in her hands, awaited herreturn; and the moments passed, and passed, and still Lady Betty didnot come back. Sophia grew nervous and more nervous; rose at last tofollow her, and sat down again, ashamed of the impulse. At length,when the waiter had gone out to hasten the second course, and Watkyns'back was turned, she could bear it no longer. She jumped up andslipped out of the room, passed two gaping servants at the foot of thestairs, and in a moment had darted up. Without waiting for a light,she groped her way along the narrow passage that led to the room sheshared with Lady Betty. A window on the left looked into the inn-yardand admitted a glimmer of reflected light; but it was not this, it wassomething she heard as she passed it, that brought her to a suddenstand beside the casement. From the room she was seeking came thesound of a low voice and a stifled laugh. An instant Sophia fanciedthat Lady Betty was lingering there talking to her woman; and she felta spark of annoyance. Then--what she thought she could never remember.For her eyes, looking mechanically through the panes beside her, saw,a little short of the fatal chaise-house, a patch of bright light,proceeding doubtless from the unshuttered window of the bedroom, anderect in the full of it the cloaked figure of the strange rider--ofthe man who had dogged them!
He was looking upwards at the illumined window, his hat raised alittle from his head, the arm that held it interposed between Sophia'seyes and his face. Still she knew him. She had not a doubt of hisidentity. The candle rays fell brightly on the thick black wig, on thepatched corner of the cloak, raised by the pose of his arm; and in awhirl of confused thoughts and fears, Sophia felt her knees shakeunder her.
A fresh whisper in the room was the signal for a low giggle. The manbowed and moved a step nearer, still bowing; which brought his kneesagainst the sloping shaft of a cart that was set conveniently beneaththe window. Sophia--a shiver running down her back as she saw howeasily he could ascend--began to understand. The villain was tamperingwith Lady Betty's maid! Probably he was already in league with thewoman; certainly, to judge by the sounds that reached the listener'sear--for again she caught a suppressed titter--he was on terms withher.
Sophia felt all a woman's rage against a woman, and wasted no furthertime on thought. She had courage and to spare, her fears for thejewels notwithstanding. In a twinkling she was at the door, had flungit open, and, burning with indignation, had bounced into the middle ofthe room, prepared to annihilate the offender. Yet not prepared forwhat she saw. In the room was only Lady Betty; who, as she entered,sprang from the window and stood confronting her with crimson cheeks.
"Betty!" Sophia gasped. "Betty?" And stood as if turned to stone; herface growing harder and harder, and harder. At last--"Lady Betty, whatdoes this mean?" she asked in icy accents.
The girl giggled and shook her hair over her flushed face and wilfuleyes; but did not answer.
"What does it mean?" Sophia repeated. "I insist on an answer."
Lady Betty pouted and half turned her back. "Oh, la!" she cried, atlast, pettishly shrugging her shoulders, "Don't talk like that! Youfrighten me out of my wits! Instead of talking, we'd better close thewindow, unless you want him to be as wise as we are."
"Him!" Sophia cried, out of patience with the girl's audacity. "Him?Am I to understand, then, that you have been talking through thewindow? You a young lady in my company, to a man whom you never sawuntil to-day? A strange man met on the road, and of whose designs youhave been warned? I cannot, I cannot believe it! I cannot believe myeyes, Lady Betty!" she continued warmly. "You, at this window, at thishour, talking to a common stranger? A stranger of whose designs I havewarned you? Why, if your woman, miss, if your woman were to be guiltyof such conduct, I could hardly believe it! I could hardly believethat I saw aright!"
And honestly Sophia was horrified; shocked, as well as puzzled. Sothat it seemed to her no more than fitting, no more than a lateawakening to decency when the
culprit, who had accomplished--but withtrembling fingers--the closing of the window, pressed her handkerchiefto her eyes, and flung herself on the bed. Sophia saw her shouldersheave with emotion, and hoped that at last she understood what she haddone; that at last she appreciated what others would think of suchreckless, such inexplicable conduct. And my lady prepared to drivehome the lesson. Judge of her surprise, when Lady Betty cut her firstword short by springing up as hastily as she had thrown herself down,and disclosed a face convulsed not with sorrow, but with laughter.
"Oh, you silly, silly thing!" she cried; and before Sophia couldprevent her, she had cast her arms round her neck, and was hugging herin a paroxysm of mirth: "Oh, you dear, silly old thing! And it's onlya week since you eloped yourself!"
"I!" Sophia cried, enraged by the ungenerous taunt. And she triedfiercely but vainly to extricate herself.
"Yes, you! You! And were married at Dr. Keith's chapel! And now howyou talk! Mercy, ma'am, butter won't melt in your mouth now!"
"Lady Betty!" Sophia cried, in a cold rage, "let me go! Do you hear?Let me go! How dare you talk to me like that? How dare you?" shecontinued, trembling with indignation. "What has my conduct to do withyours? Or how can you presume to mention it in the same breath? I mayhave been foolish, I may have been indiscreet, but I never, never,stooped to----"
"Call it the highway at once," said the unrepentant one, "for I knowthat is what you have in your mind."
Sophia gasped. "If you can put it so clearly," she said, "I hope youhave more sense than appears from the--the----"
"Lightness of my conduct!" Lady Betty cried, with a fresh peal oflaughter. "Oh, you dear, silly old thing, I would not be your daughterfor something!"
"Lady Betty?"
"You dear, don't you Lady Betty me! A highwayman? Oh, it is toodelicious! Too diverting! Are you sure it isn't Turpin come to lifeagain? Or Cook of Barnet? Or the gallant Macheath from the Opera? Why,you old dear, the man is nothing better nor worse than a--lover!"
"A lover?" Sophia cried.
"Well, yes--a lover," Lady Betty repeated, lightly enough; but to hercredit be it said, she did blush at last--a little, and folded herhandkerchief into a hard square and looked at it with an air of--ofcomparative bashfulness. "Dear me, yes--a lover. He followed us fromLondon; and, to make the deeper impression, I suppose, made a GuyFawkes of himself! That's all!"
"All?" Sophia said in amazement.
"Yes, all, all, all!" Lady Betty retorted, ridding herself in aninstant of her penitent air. "All! And aren't you glad, my dear, tofind that you were frightening yourself for nothing!"
"But who is he--the gentleman?" Sophia asked faintly.
"Oh, he is not a gentleman," the little flirt answered, tossing herhead with pretty but cruel contempt. "He's"--with a giggle--"at leasthe calls himself--Mr. Fanshaw."
"Mr. Fanshaw?" Sophia repeated; and first wondered and then rememberedwhere she had heard the name. "Can it be the same?" she exclaimed,reddening in spite of herself as she met Lady Betty's eye. "Is he asmall, foppish man, full of monstrous airs and graces, and--and ratherunderbred?"
Lady Betty clapped her hands. "Yes," she cried. "Drawn to the life!Where did you see him? But I'll tell you if you like. 'Twas at Lane's,ma'am!"
"Yes, it was," Sophia answered a trifle sternly. "But how do you know,miss?"
"Well, I do know," Lady Betty answered. And again she had the grace toblush and look down. "At least--I thought it likely. Because, you olddear, don't you remember a note you picked up at Vauxhall gardens,that was meant for me? Yes, I vow you do. Well, 'twas from him."
"But that doesn't explain," Sophia said keenly, "why you guessed thatI saw him at Lane's shop?"
"Oh," Lady Betty answered, wincing a little. "To be sure, no, itdoesn't. But he's--he's just Lane's son. There, now you know it!"
"Mr. Fanshaw?"
Lady Betty nodded, a little shamefacedly. "'Tis so," she said. "Forthe name, it's his vanity. He's the vainest creature, he thinks everylady is in love with him. Never was such sport as to lead him on. I amsure I thought I should have died of laughing before you came in andfrightened me out of my wits!"
Sophia looked at her gravely. "I am sure of something else," she said.
"Now you are going to preach!" Lady Betty cried; and tried to stop hermouth.
"No, I am not, but you gave me a promise, in my room in ArlingtonStreet, Betty. That you would have nothing more to do with the writerof that note."
Lady Betty sat down on the bed and looked piteously at her companion."Oh, I didn't, did I?" she said; and at last she seemed to be reallytroubled. "I didn't, did I? 'Twas only that I would not correspondwith him. I protest it was only that. And I have not. I've not,indeed," she protested. "But when I found him under the window, andheard that he was Mohocking about the country in that monstrous cloakand hat, for all the world like the Beggar's Opera on horseback, andall for the love of me, it was not in flesh and blood not to divertoneself with him! He's such a creature! You've no notion what acreature it is!"
"I've this notion," Sophia answered seriously. "If you did notpromise, you will promise. What is more, I shall send for him, and Ishall tell him, in your presence, that this ridiculous pursuit mustcease."
"But if he will not?" Lady Betty asked, with an arch look. "I amsupposed--to have charms, you know?"
"I shall tell your father."
"La, ma'am," the child retorted, with a curtsey, "you are married!There is no doubt about that!"
Sophia reddened, but did not answer; and for a moment Betty sat on thebed, picking the coverlet with her fingers and looking sulky. On asudden she leapt up and threw her arms round Sophia's neck. "Well, doas you like!" she cried effusively. "After all, 'twill be a charmingscene, and do him good, the fright! Don't think," the little minxcontinued, tossing her head disdainfully, "that I ever wish to seehim again, or would let him touch me with his little finger! Not I!But--one does not like to----"
"We'll have no _but_, if you please," Sophia said gently, but firmly.She had grown wondrous wise in the space of a short month. "Whateverhe is, he is no fit mate for Lady Betty Cochrane, and shall not gether into trouble! I'll call your woman, and bid her go find him."
Fortunately the maid knocked at the door at that moment. She came,anxious to learn if anything ailed them, and why they did not returnto finish their supper. They declined to do so, bade her have itremoved, and a pot of tea brought; then Sophia told her what shewanted, and having instructed her, despatched her on her errand.
An assignation, through her woman, was the guise in which the affairappeared to Mr. Fanshaw's eyes when he got the message. And great washis joy nor less his triumph. Was ever lover, he asked himself, morecompletely or more quickly favoured? Could Rochester or Bellamour, TomHervey or my Lord Lincoln have made a speedier conquest? No wonder histhoughts, always on the sanguine side, ran riot as he mounted thestairs; or that his pulses beat to the tune of--
But he so teased me, And he so pleased me, What I did, you must have done!
as he followed the maid along the passage.
The only sour in his cup, indeed, arose from his costume. That he knewto be better fitted for the road than for a lady's chamber; to becalculated rather to strike the youthful eye and captivate theromantic imagination at a distance than to become a somewhat punyperson at short range. As he passed an old Dutch mirror, that stood inan angle of the stairs, he made a desperate attempt to reduce the wig,and control the cloak; but in vain, it was only to accentuate theboots. Worse, his guide looked to see why he lingered, caught him inthe act, and tittered; after which he was forced to affect a haughtycontempt and follow. But what would he not have given at that momentfor his olive and silver, a copy of Mr. Walpole's birth-night suit? Orfor his French grey and Mechlin, and the new tie-wig that had cost hisfoolish father seven guineas at Protin, the French perruquier's? Much,yet what mattered it, since he had conquered? Since even while hethought of these drawbacks, he paused on the threshol
d of his lady'schamber, and saw before him his divinity--pouting, mutinous, charming.She was standing by the table waiting for him with down cast eyes, andthe most ravishing air in the world.
Strange to say he felt no doubt. It was his firm belief, born ofWycherley and fostered on Crebillon that all women were alike, andfrom the three beauty Fitzroys to Oxford Kate, were wax in the handsof a pretty fellow. It was this belief that had spurred him to greatenterprises, if not as yet, to great conquests; and yet so powerfullydoes virtue impress even the sceptics, that he faltered as he enteredthe room. Besides that ladyship of hers dashed him! He could not denythat his heart bounced painfully. But courage! As he recalled theinvitation he had received, he recovered himself. He advanced,simpering; he was ready, at a word, to fall at her feet. "Oh, ma'am,'tis a happiness beyond my desert," he babbled--in his heart damninghis boots, and trying to remember M. Siras' first position. "Only tobe allowed to wait on your ladyship places me in the seventh heaven!Only to be allowed to worship at the shrine of beauty is--is a greatprivilege, ma'am. But to be permitted to hope--that I am notaltogether--I mean, my lady," he amended, growing a little flustered,"that I am not entirely----"
"What?" Lady Betty asked, eyeing him archly, her finger in her mouth,her head on one side.
"Indifferent to your ladyship! Oh, I assure your ladyship never in allmy life have I felt so profound a----"
"Really?"
"A--an admiration of any one, never have I----"
"Said so much to a lady! That, sir, I can believe!"
This time the voice was not Betty's, and he started as if he had beenpricked. He spun round, and saw Sophia standing beside the fire, alittle behind the door through which he had entered. He had thoughthimself alone with his inamorata; and his face of dismay wasludicrous. "Oh!" he faltered, bowing hurriedly, "I beg your pardon,ma'am, I--I did not see you."
"So I suppose," she answered, coldly, "or you would not have presumedto say such words to a lady."
He cringed. "I am sure," he stammered, "if I have been wanting inrespect, I beg her ladyship's pardon! I am sure, I know----"
"Are you sure--you know who you are?" Sophia asked with directness.
He was all colours at once, but strove to mask the wound under apretty sentence. "I trust a gentleman may aspire to--to all thatbeauty has to give," he simpered. "I may not, ma'am, be of herladyship's rank."
"No, it is clear that you are not!" Sophia answered.
"But I am a gentleman."
"The question is, are you?" she retorted. "There are gentlemen andgentlemen. What is your claim to that name, sir?"
"S'help me, ma'am!" he exclaimed, affecting the utmost surprise andindignation. "The Fanshaws of Warwickshire have been commonly takenfor such."
"The Fanshaws of Warwickshire?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Perhaps so. It may be so. I do not know them. But the Fanshaws ofnowhere in particular? Or shall I say the Lanes of Piccadilly?"
His face flamed scarlet below the black wig. His tongue stuck to theroof of his mouth. His eyes flickered as if she had threatened tostrike him. For a moment he was a pitiable sight. Then with aprodigious effort, "I--I don't know what you are talking about," hemuttered hoarsely. "I don't understand you, ma'am." But his smile wassickly, and his eye betrayed his misery.
"Don't lie, sir," Sophia said sternly; and, poor little wretch, foundout and exposed, he writhed under her look of scorn. "We know who youare, a tradesman's son, parading in borrowed plumes. What we do notknow, what we cannot understand," she continued with ineffabledisdain, "is how you can think to find favour in a lady's eyes. In alady's eyes--you! An under-bred, over-dressed apprentice, who havenever done anything to raise yourself from the rank in which you wereborn! Do you know, have you an idea, sir, what you are in our eyes? Doyou know that a lady would rather marry her footman; for, at least, heis a man. If you do not, you must be taught, sir, as the puppy istaught with the whip. Do you understand me?"
In his deserved degradation, his eyes sought Lady Betty's face. Shewas looking at him gravely; he read no hope in her eyes. What theother woman told him then was true; and, ah, how he hated her! Ah, howhe hated her! He did not know that she scourged in him another'soffence. He did not know that of her scorn a measure fell on her ownshoulders; that she had been deluded by such an one as he was himself.Above all, he did not know that she was resolved that the child withher should not suffer as she had suffered!
He thought that she was moved by sheer wanton brutality; and cringing,smarting under the lash of her tongue, seeing himself for the momentas others saw him--a mean little jackanapes mimicking his betters--hecould have strangled her. But he was dumb.
"You had the audacity," Sophia continued, gravely, "to attend me once,I remember, and ply me with your foolish compliments! And you havewritten to this lady, you, a shopman----"
"I am not a--a shopman!" he stuttered, writhing.
"In grade you are; it were more honour to you were you one inreality!" she retorted. "But I repeat it, you have written to thislady, who, the better to teach you a lesson, did not at once betraywhat she thought you. For the future, however, understand, sir. If youpester her with attentions, or even cross her path, I will find thosewho will cane you into behaviour. And in such a way that you will notforget it! For the rest, let me advise you to get rid of thosepreposterous clothes, change that sword for an ell-wand, and go backto your counter. You may retire now. Or no! Pettitt!" Sophiacontinued, as she opened the door, "Pettitt!" to Lady Betty's woman,"show this person downstairs."
He sneaked out, dumb. For what was he to say? They were great ladies,and he a person, fit company for the steward's room, a little abovethe servants' hall. He bent his head under the maid's scornful eye,hurried, stumbling in his boots, down the narrow stairs, nor did hebreathe until he reached the dark street, where his little chestbeginning to heave, he burst into scalding tears of rage.
He suffered horribly in his tenderest part--his conceit. He burnedmiserably, impotently, poor weakling, to be revenged. If he couldbring those proud women to their knees! If he could see them humbled,as they had humbled him! If he could show them that he was not thepoor creature they deemed him! If he could sear their insolentfaces--the smallpox seize them! If he could--aye, the smallpox seizethem!
Presently he slunk back to the White Lion, where he had his bed; and,finding a fire still burning in the empty taproom--for the evening waschilly--he took refuge there, and, laying his head on the beer-stainedtable, wept anew. The next time he looked up he found that a man andwoman had entered the room, and were standing on the hearth, gazingcuriously at him.
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