CHAPTER XVI
THE PAVED FORD
If Lady Betty's sprightliness ever deserted her, it returned with themorning as regularly as the light. But by Sophia the depressinginfluence of a strange place, viewed through sheets of rain, was feltto the full next day. The mind must be strong that does not tinge thefuture with the colours which the eye presents at the moment; andher's was nowise superior to the temptation. Her spirits, as she roseamid the discomforts of a Sussex inn--and Sussex inns and Sussex roadswere then reputed among the worst in England--and prepared to continuethe journey, were at their lowest ebb. She dreaded the meeting, now soimminent, with Sir Hervey. She shrank as the bather on the verge ofthe stream shrinks, from the new sphere, the new home, the new dutieson which the day must see her enter; and enter unsupported by love.She was cold, she shook, her knees quaked under her; she had goldenvisions of what might have been, and her heart sobbed as she pluckedherself from them. To Lady Betty's eye, and in the phrase of the day,she had the vapours; alas, she suffered with better reason that thefine ladies who had lately made them the fashion.
When they had once set forth, however, the motion and the change ofoutlook, even though it was but a change from dripping eaves to woodsthrashing in the wet wind, gave something of a fillip to her spirits.Moreover, the nearer we come to a dreaded event, the more importantloom the brief stages that divide us from it. We count by months, thenby days; at length, when hours only remain, the last meal is an epochon the hither side of which we sit almost content. It was so withSophia when she had once started. They were to dine at Lewes; untilLewes was reached she put away the future, and strove to enjoy thehours that intervened.
The weather was so foul that at starting they took Lady Betty's maidinto the carriage, and pitied Watkyns, who had no choice but to sitoutside, with his hat pulled down to his collar, and the rain runningout of his pockets. The wild hilly road through Ashdown Forest, thaton a fine day charms the modern eye, presented to them only drearymisty tops and deep sloughy bottoms; the latter so delaying them--fortwice in the first six miles they stuck fast--that it was noon whenthey reached Sheffield Green. Dane Hill was slowly climbed, the horsesstraining and the wheels creaking; but, this difficulty surmounted,they had a view of flatter country ahead, though spread out underheavy rains; and they became more hopeful. "We cannot be far fromLewes, now," Lady Betty said cheerfully. "I wonder what Watkynsthinks. Pettitt, put your head out and ask him."
Pettitt did so, not very willingly, and after exchanging a few wordswith the man drew in a scared face. "He says, my lady, we sha'n't bethere till half after two at the best," she announced. "Nor then ifthe water is out. He says if it goes on raining another hour, he doesnot know if we shall ever reach it." It will be noticed that Watkyns,with the rain running down his back, was a pessimist.
"Ever reach it?" Lady Betty retorted. "What rubbish! But, la, supposewe are stopped, and have to lie in the fields? Pettitt, did you eversleep in a field?"
Pettitt fairly jumped with indignation. "Me, my lady!" she cried. "Ishould think I knew better! And was brought up better. Not _I_,indeed!"
"Well," Betty answered mischievously, "if we have to sleep in thecarriage, I give you notice, Pettitt, there'll not be room for you!But I daresay you'll be dry enough--underneath, if we choose a niceplace."
Pettitt's eyes were wide with horror. "Underneath?" she gasped.
"To be sure! Or we might find a haystack," Lady Betty continued, witha face of the greatest seriousness. "The men could lie on one side andyou on the other----"
"Me, my lady! A haystack? Never!"
"Oh, it is no use to say never," Lady Betty answered; "these thingsoften happen when one travels. And after all, you would have the oneside to yourself, and it would be quite nice and proper. And if therewere no mice or rats in the stack----"
The maid shrieked feebly.
"As there often are in haystacks, I am sure you would do as well as weshould in the carriage. And--oh, la!" in a different tone, "who isthat? How he scared me!"
A horseman going the same way had come up with the carriage; as shespoke, he passed it at a rapid trot. The two ladies poked their headsforward, and followed him with their eyes. "It's Mr. Fanshaw," Sophiamuttered in great surprise.
"Fanshaw?" Lady Betty cried, springing up in excitement, and asquickly sitting down again. "La, so it is! You don't think thestupid is going to follow us after what you said? If he does"--with agiggle--"I don't know what they'll say at Coke Hall. How he does bump,to be sure! And how hot he is!"
"He ought to have returned to London!"
"Well, I'm sure I thought you'd frightened him!" Lady Betty answereddemurely.
Sophia said nothing, but thought the more. What did the man mean? Hehad collapsed so easily the night before, he had been so completelyprostrated by her hard words, she had taken it for certain he wouldabandon the pursuit. Yet here he was, still with his back to London,still in attendance on them. Was it possible that he had some holdover Lady Betty? She asked Pettitt, whose face, as she sat clutching abasket and looking nervously out of the window, was a picture ofmisery, where he had lain at East Grinstead.
"At the other inn," Pettitt answered tearfully. "I saw him in thestreet this morning, my lady, talking to two men. I'm sure I littlethought then that I might have to lie in--oh, Lord ha' mercy, we'reover!"
She squealed, the ladies clutched one another, the carriage lurchedheavily. It jolted forward a yard or two at a dangerous slant, andcame to a sudden stand. The road undermined by the heavy rain hadgiven way; and the near wheels had sunk into the hole, while those onthe other side stood on solid ground. A little more and the carriagemust have turned over. While Watkyns climbed down in haste, and thegrooms dismounted, the three inside skipped out, to find themselvesstanding in the rain, in a little valley between two softly-roundedhills, that sloped upwards until they were lost in the fog. There wasnothing else for it; they had to wait with what patience they might,until the three servants with a couple of bars, which travellers inthose days carried for the purpose, had lifted the vehicle by sheerstrength from the pit into which it had settled. Then word was passedto the horses, the postboys cracked their whips, and, with a bound,the carriage stood again on firm ground.
So far good; but in surmounting the difficulty, half an hour had beenwasted. It was nearly two o'clock; they were barely half way to Lewes.The patient Watkyns, holding the door for them to enter, advised thatthey could not now be in before four. "If then," he added ominously."I fear, my lady, the ford on this side of Chayley is like to be deep.I don't know how 'twill be, my lady, but we'll do our best."
"You must not drown us!" Lady Betty cried gaily; but had better haveheld her tongue, for her woman, between damp and fright, began to cry,and was hardly scolded into silence.
So, half-past two, which should have seen them at Lewes, found themploughing through heavy mud at a foot's pace behind sobbing horses;the rain, the roads, and the desolate landscape, all bearing out theevil repute of Sussex highways. Abreast of the windmill at Plumptonby-road they found dry going, which lasted for half a mile, and theincrease of speed cheered even the despairing Pettitt. But at the footof the descent they stuck fast once more, in a hole ill-mended withfaggots; and for a fair hundred yards the men had to push and pull.They lost another half-hour here, so that it wanted little ofhalf-past three when they came, weary and despondent, to the fordbelow Chayley, about six miles short of Lewes. The grooms were miredto the knees, Watkyns was little better, all were in a poor humour.Lady Betty's woman clung and screeched on the least alarm; and on allthe steady drizzle and the heavy road had wrought depressingly.
"Shall we have difficulty in crossing?" Sophia asked nervously, asthey drew towards the ford, and saw a brown line of water swirlingathwart the road. A horseman and two or three country folk were on thebank, gauging the stream with their eyes.
Watkyns shook his head. "I doubt it's not to be done at all, my lady,"he said. "H
ere's one stopped already, unless I am mistaken."
"But we can't stay here," Sophia protested, looking with longing atthe roofs and spire that rose above the trees beyond the stream. Onthe bank on which they stood was a single hovel of mud, fast meltingunder the steady downpour.
"I'll see what they say, my lady," Watkyns answered, and leaving thecarriage thirty paces from the water, he went forward and joined thelittle group that conferred on the brink. The grooms moved on also,while the leading postboy, standing up in his stirrups, scanned thecurrent with evident misgiving.
"'Tis Fanshaw on the horse," Sophia said in a low tone.
"So it is!" Lady Betty answered. "He's afraid to cross, it is clear!You don't think we shall have to spend the night here?"
The horses hanging their heads in the rain, the dripping postboys, thesplashed carriage, the three faces peering anxiously at the flood,through which they must pass to gain shelter--a more desolate group itwere hard to conceive; unless it was that which talked and argued onthe bank, and from which Watkyns presently detached himself. He cameback to the carriage.
"It's not to be done, my lady," he said, his face troubled. "There'sbut one opinion of that. It's a mud bottom, they tell me, and if thehorses dragged the carriage in, they could never pull it through. Mostlikely they wouldn't face the water. It must fall a foot they say,before it'll be safe to try it."
The maid shrieked. Even Sophia looked scared. "But what are we to do?"she said. "We cannot spend the night here."
"Well, my lady, the gentleman says if we keep down the water thisside, there's a paved ford a mile lower that should be passable. It'snot far from Fletching, and we could very likely cross there or getshelter in Fletching, if your ladyship should not choose to risk it."
"But how does the gentleman know?" Sophia asked sharply.
"He's of this country," Watkyns answered. "Leastwise bred here, mylady, this side of Lewes, and says he knows the roads. It's what he'sgoing to do himself. And I don't know what else we can do, if yourladyship pleases."
"Well," Sophia said doubtfully, "if you think so?"
"Oh, yes," Lady Betty cried impulsively. "Let us go! We can't sit hereall night. It must be nearly four now."
"It's all that, my lady."
"And we shall have it dark, if we stay here. And shall really have tolie under a haystack. Besides, you may be sure he'll not lead us intomuch danger!" she continued, with a contemptuous look at Mr. Fanshaw."If we take care to go only where he goes we shall not run much risk."
As if he heard what she was saying, Mr. Fanshaw at that moment turnedhis horse, and passed the carriage; he was on his way to take the lanethat ran down stream. A countryman plodded at his stirrup, and SirHervey's grooms followed. After them came a second countryman with asack drawn over his shoulders. As this man passed the carriage Sophialeaned from the window and called to him.
"Does this lane lead to a better ford, my man?" she asked.
The fellow stared at Lady Betty's pretty face and eager eyes. "Aye,there's a ford," he answered, the rain dripping off his nose.
"A better ford than this?"
"Ay, 'tis paved."
"And how far from here is it?"
"A mile, or may be a mile and a bit."
Sophia gave him a shilling. She nodded to Watkyns. "I think we hadbetter go," she said. "But I hope it may not be a long round," shecontinued with a sort of foreboding. "I shall be glad when we are inthe main road again."
The horses' heads once turned, however, things seemed to go better.The sky grew lighter, the rain ceased, the lane, willow-lined, and inplaces invaded by the swollen stream that ran beside it, proved to bepassable. Even the mile and a bit turned out to be no more than twomiles, and in half an hour, the cavalcade, to which Mr. Fanshaw,moving in front, had the air of belonging, reached the ford.
The stream was wide here, but so full that the brown water sweptswiftly and silently over the shallows. Nevertheless it was evidentthat Lane knew his ground, for, to Lady Betty's astonishment, he rodein gallantly, and spurred his horse to the other side, the waterbarely reaching its knees. Encouraged, the postboys cracked theirwhips and followed, the carriage swayed, Pettitt screamed; for amoment the water seemed rising all round them, the next they wereacross and jolting up the farther bank.
"There!" Lady Betty cried with a laugh of triumph. "I'd have bet thatwould be all right! When I saw him go through I knew that there wasnot much danger. Six miles more and we shall be in Lewes."
Suddenly, on the bank they had left, a man appeared, waving his armsto them. The carriage had turned to the left after crossing, and themovement brought the man full into view from the window. "What is it?"Sophia asked anxiously. "What is he shouting?" And she called toWatkyns to learn what it was.
"I think he wants help to come over, my lady," Watkyns answered. "ButI'll ask, if your ladyship pleases." And he went back and exchangedshouts with the stranger, while the carriage plodded up the ascent.By-and-by Watkyns overtook them. "It was only to tell me, my lady,that there was a second ford we should have to pass," he explained.
"A second ford?"
"Yes, but the gentleman in front had told me so already, and that itwas no worse than this, or not much; and a farm close to it, with menand a team of oxen, if we had need. I told the man that, my lady, andall he answered was, that they had only one small ox at the farm, andhe kept shouting that, and nothing else. But I could not make much ofhim. And any way we must go on now," Watkyns continued, with just somuch sullenness as showed he had his doubts. "We came through thatgrandly; and with luck, my lady, we should be in Lewes before dark."
"At any rate let us go as fast as we can," Sophia answered. This latemention of a second ford disturbed her, and she looked ahead withincreasing anxiety.
It was soon plain that to travel quickly in the country in which theynow found themselves, was impossible. The road followed a shallowvalley which wound among low hills, crowned with trees. Now thecarriage climbed slowly over a shoulder, now plunged into aroughly-wooded bottom, now dragged painfully up the other side, theladies walking. In places the road was so narrow that the wheelsbarely passed. It was in vain Sophia fretted, in vain Lady Bettyceased to jest, that Pettitt cast eyes to heaven in token ofspeechless misery, Watkyns swore and sweated to think what Sir Herveywould say of it. There was no place where the carriage could beturned; and if there had been, to go back seemed as bad as to goforward.
By way of compensation the sky had grown clear; a flood of paleevening sunshine gilded the western slopes of the hills. The clumpsthat here and there crowned the summits rose black against an eveningsky, calm and serene. But far as the eye could reach not a sign of manappeared; the country seemed without population. Once indeed throughan opening on the left, they made out a village spire peeping above adistant shoulder; but it was two miles away, and far from theirdirection. The road, at the moment the sun set, wound round a hill andbegan to descend following the bottom of a valley. By-and-by they sawbefore them a row of trees running athwart the way, and marking water.Here, then, was the second ford.
The two grooms had ridden for a time with Lane--to give Fanshaw hisproper name--a couple of hundred yards ahead of the carriage. Thecountrymen had dropped off by tracks invisible to the strange eye, andgone to homes as invisible. Watkyns alone was beside the carriage,which was still a hundred yards short of the crossing, when one of thegrooms was seen riding back to it.
He waved his hand in the air as he reined up. "It won't do!" he criedloudly. "We can never get over. You can see for yourself, Mr.Watkyns."
"I can see a fool for myself!" the valet answered sharply. "What doyou mean by frightening the ladies?"
The groom--Sophia noticed that his face was flushed--fell sullenlybehind the carriage without saying more; but the mischief was done.Pettitt was in tears, even Sophia and Lady Betty were shaken. Theyinsisted on alighting, and joined Lane and the other groom who stoodsilenced by the prospect.
The stream that barred the way was a dozen yards w
ide from bank tobank, the water running strong and turbid with ugly eddies, and agreedy swirl. Nor was this the worst. The road on the side on whichthey stood sloped gently into the stream. But on the farther side, thebank was high and precipitous, and the road rose so steeply out of thewater that the little hamlet which crowned the ridge beyond hung highabove their heads. It needed no experience to see that tired horses,fagged by a journey and by the labour of wading through the deep ford,would never drag the carriage up so steep a pitch.
Sophia took it all in. She took in also the late evening light, andthe desolate valley, strewn with sparse thorn trees, down which theyhad come--and from which this was their exit; and her eyes flashedwith anger. Hitherto, in her desire to have no dealings with Lane, butto ignore, if she must bear, his company, she had refrained fromquestioning him; though with each mile of the lengthening distance thetemptation had grown. Now she turned to him.
"What do you mean, sir," she cried harshly, "by bringing us to such aplace as this? Is this your good ford?"
He did not look at her, but continued to stare at the water. "It'sgenerally low enough," he muttered sulkily.
"Did you expect to find it low to-day? After the rain?"
He did not answer, and Watkyns took the word. "If we had oxen and someropes, or even half a dozen men," he said, "we could get the carriageacross."
"Then where is his farm? And the team of oxen of which you told us?"Sophia continued, addressing Lane again. "Explain, sir, explain! Whyhave you brought us to this place? You must have had some motive."
"The farm is there," he answered sulkily, pointing to the buildings onthe ridge across the water. "And it would be all right, but--but ithas changed hands since I was here. And the people are--they tell, methat the place has a bad name."
She fancied that he exchanged a look with the groom who stood nearest;at any rate the man hastened to corroborate him. "That's true enough!"he cried with a hiccough. "It's dangerous, my lady, so they tell me."
Sophia stared. The servant's manner was odd and free. And how did heknow? "Who told you?" she asked sharply.
"The men who came part of the way with us, my lady."
Sophia turned to Watkyns. "It's a pity you did not learn this before,"she said severely. "You should not have allowed this person to decoyus from the road. For you, sir," she continued, addressing Lane, "Icannot conceive why you have done this, or why you have brought ushere, but of one thing you may be sure. If there be roguery in thisyou will pay a sharp reckoning for it."
He stood by his horse's head, looking doggedly at the stream, andavoiding their eyes. In the silence Lady Betty's woman began to sob,until her mistress bade her be quiet for a fool. Yet there was excusefor her. With the fading of the light the valley behind them had takenon a sinister look. The gnarled thorn trees of the upper part, thecoarse marsh-grass of the lower, through which a small streamtrickled, forming sullen pools among stunted alders, spoke ofdesolation and the coming of night. On the steep slopes above them nolife moved; from the silent hamlet beyond the water came no sound orshout of challenge.
Suddenly one of the postboys found a voice. "We could get two of thehorses through," he said, "and fetch help from Lewes. It cannot bemore than four or five miles from here, and we could get a fresh teamthere, and with ropes and half a dozen men we could cross wellenough!"
Sophia turned to him. "You are a man," she said. "A guinea apiece, mylads, if you are back with fresh horses in two hours."
"We'll do our best, my lady," the lad answered, touching his cap."'Twill be no fault of ours, if we are not back. We'll try the housefirst. We're six men," he continued, looking round, "and need not beafraid of one or two, if they ben't of the best."
But as he turned the nearest groom whispered something in his ear, andhis face fell. His eyes travelled to the little cluster of buildingsthat crowned the opposite ridge. On the left of the steep road stoodtwo cottages; on the right the gable end of a larger house roseheavily from the hillside, and from the sparse gorse bushes thatbestrewed it.
None of the chimneys emitted smoke; but Sophia, following the man'seyes, saw that, early as it was, and barely inclining to dusk, a smallwindow in the gable end showed a light. "Why," she exclaimed, "theyhave a light! Let us all shout, and they must hear. Why should we beafraid? Shout!" she continued, turning to Watkyns. "Do you hear, man?What are you afraid of?"
"Nothing, my lady," Watkyns stammered; and he hastened to shout"Halloa! Halloa there! House!" But his pale face, and the quaver inhis voice, betrayed that, in spite of his boast, he was afraid; whilethe faces of the other men, as they stood waiting for an answer, theireyes riveted on the house, seemed to show that they shared thefeeling.
Sophia noticed this, and was puzzled. But the next moment the postboysbegan to free the leaders from the harness, and to mount and ride theminto the water; and in the excitement of the scene, she forgot hersuspicions. One of the horses refused to cross, and, wheeling round inthe stream, came near to unseating its rider. But the postboypersisted gamely, the beast was driven in again, and, after hesitatingawhile, snorting in the shallows, it went through with a rush, andplunged up the bank amid an avalanche of mud and stones. The summit ofthe ridge gained, the postboys rose in their stirrups and looked back,waving a farewell. The next moment they passed between the cottagesand the house, and disappeared.
The group, left below, strained their eyes after them. But nothingrewarded expectation. No cry came back, no hurrying band appeared,laden with help, and shouting encouragement. From the buildings, thateach moment loomed darker and darker, came no sign of life. Only, asthe dusk grew, and minute by minute night fell in the valley, thelight in the window of the gable end waxed brighter and brighter,until it shone a single mysterious spark in a wall of blackness.
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