Roger remained silent for a few moments. He had often heard of the notorious highwayman but never seen him. Georgina's story of the encounter was so unlike anything he had expected that he found the grounds for anger cut from beneath his feet. The fellow was reputed handsome and, despite his monstrous impertinence, appeared to have behaved with the utmost civility; while Georgina had clearly proved his willing victim. Roger was wondering now if, in view of her previous adventures, he was still called on to pledge himself to her. Convention demanded that any girl a gentleman took to wife should go to her bridal chamber as spotless as an angel; no matter what pranks she might get up to later if the couple decided to go their separate ways, providing only that she cloaked her amours with a reasonable decency in order to protect his name.
Yet, he reflected, she had not been called upon to tell him anything, and he had made his avowal before she had spoken. Even if she was not the languorous, golden-haired creature of his dreams she was still one of the loveliest people he had ever set eyes on, and her soft embrace so recently enjoyed had given her a new enchantment for him. More, where would he ever find a girl whose interests tallied so closely with his own; in all their many hours together he had never known a dull moment in her company. The episode with the highwayman was a misfortune that might have happened to any imprudent girl and, once seduced, the affair with the London buck could be excused by the unconventional way in which she had been brought up, coupled with her zest for any form of daring and adventure. With sudden resolution he decided that convention could be damned, and that in any case a gentleman must stick by his word, so, from every point of view he should go through with it.
"A penny for your thoughts, Roger," she said softly.
"I was just wondering," he replied with a smile, "how soon we can get married. I fear we won't be allowed to until I'm seventeen, but that isn't very long to wait. The devil of it is, though, that I've got no money."
"Oh, Roger, you darling," she sighed. "You haven't really been thinking of marrying me, have you?"
"Of course. That is unless you've promised yourself to the fellow in London?"
She shrugged her shoulders airily. "What, Harry! Lud, no! He's married already; and even if he weren't I wouldn't have him. He's devilish handsome, but a hopeless wastrel."
"You'll promise to forget him, then. And we'll consider it a settled thing. God alone knows what the future holds for me, but as soon as I'm in any situation to do so I'll speak to your father."
Taking his hand she drew him down beside her, and said seriously: "Roger, m'dear, I'm deeply sensible of the honour that you do me. More especially since I've been unmaidenly enough to declare myself a piece of shop-soiled goods. But I've no intention of pledging myself to any man as yet."
"But you can't go on like this," he protested. "After taking three lovers while barely seventeen, 'tis over-time already that you became respectable."
'Tour," she corrected, with a little laugh. "I met the wickedest, handsomest young spark that ever I did see at the Lansdowne House Ball, and we met again while attending old Q's water-party at Richmond. He tumbled me in a punt and I simply could not bring myself to resist him.''
"Georgina!" he suddenly wrung his hands, "how could you! It needs but such looseness through another season for your name to become a byword. Then none will marry you."
She shook her dark curls. "Dear Roger! You don't understand. What if I have had four lovers? I hope to have forty more, should I find forty men that please me. Nay, I'll take a hundred before I die, and the finest and handsomest men in the realm among them. As for marriage, set thy fears for me at rest. Do'st thou not realise that I am an heiress?"
"Your father is reputed a warm man, I know," he nodded.
"He is far richer than you think. This place and the house in Bedford Square represent but a small fraction of his fortune."
"How so? I have heard it said that old Mr. Thursby died in good circumstances, but never that he left your father great riches."
"True, but papa has brains, and has made a mint of money for himself. 'Tis his interest in engineering and machinery—the very things people count him crazy foi—that have brought him his wealth."
"You have never told me of this before."
"I did not know it myself until he presented me during the season to the Duke of Bridgewater, who, it seems, is one of his partners in a company. 'Twas His Grace who made the first canal, to supersede the system by which coal was carried on pack horses from his mines at Worsley to Manchester. But 'twas Mr. Josiah Wedgwood who first interested papa in such schemes."
"What, the Mr. Wedgwood who makes such lovely plaques and urns of pottery?"
"The same. 'Twas Mr. Wedgwood who discovered the engineering genius of young James Brindley, then a workman in his employ. Together they constructed the Grand Trunk canal that links the Trent and the Mersey, so that Mr. Wedgwood's pottery could be carried from his works at Etruria to the ports at a saving of no less than seventy per cent. Then papa also has an interest in Mr. Samuel Compton's spinning mule, which, 'tis said, will prove vastly superior to the spinning jenny. Tis from such undertakings that of late years papa has piled up a great fortune."
Roger looked at her in astonishment. "It seems then that you are indeed an heiress, and a fine prize for any man, quite apart from your beauty."
"Yes," she said seriously. "With me, when I marry, will go a hundred thousand pounds. Papa told me so in order that I might not pledge myself lightly to some good-looking nobody. And who in their-senses would not be prepared to overlook a few peccadilloes on my part when the securing of such a fortune is in question. With it I can buy myself an Earl any time I wish. But I'll not be content with some old dotard. I require one who will both be complaisant and do me credit. I've a mind, just as you have, Roger, to cut a fine figure in this world of ours. Money alone is not enough. I want influence and power and, Royalty apart, to be the first lady in the kingdom. If the husband I choose has it in him to carry me that high, maybe I'll be faithful to him. If not I'll use my beauty with the same skill as a great general handles his battalions. I'll slip into bed with one man or twenty, providing they can lift me a rung up the ladder towards the things I crave. Perhaps I'll become the mistress of a King, and make and unmake statesmen at my will; but whate'er befall I vow I'll be a Duchess before my hair turns grey."
As she spoke, her great eyes lifted unseeing towards the blue horizon; her gipsy blood was calling up a prophetic vision of the tempestuous and amazing career that was indeed to be hers.
The violence of her declaration left Roger temporarily without words; then, recovering himself he said: "Oh, come, Georgina, I doubt not that your money will buy you a coronet, if you've set your heart on one, but Kings don't make Duchesses of their mistresses in these days."
Bringing herself back with a jerk, she laughed up at him. "They have before; there's no reason that they shouldn't again. Charles II made Castlemaine into Cleveland and French Louise into Portsmouth with other Duchies for all their sons; while George I created that greedy German whore that he brought over Duchess of Kendal."
Roger's relief that he had not, after all, been called on to commit himself was now almost outweighed by pique at having, seemingly, won only to lose this flamboyant creature who, at the same time, both shocked and attracted him so strongly.
"Oh, well," he muttered sulkily, "Since you've no use for me, and prefer this mad plan to go whoring after a Duchy for yourself, good luck to you."
She regarded him with a rather sad little smile. "Be not angry, Roger, nor foolish in thy speech. 'Twould be a madder thing by far, for both of us, were I to accept you here and now as my spouse-to-be. As for whoring after a Duchy, I'll be no ordinary whore, and it takes much more than that to achieve the strawberry leaves of a ducal coronet. I'll have a use for you too, never fear. I'll have a fondness for you beyond all my lovers, and, if you will, ever count you my earliest and most faithful friend."
He brightened at once. "Do
you really mean that, Georgina?"
"Indeed I do." She took his hand again and her smile deepened to one of mischievous amusement. "What will you have as your share of the plunder? Will you be Northern or Southern Secretary? But no! I'll make you Paymaster to the Forces, since 'tis the most lucrative post of them all."
Lifting the hand that held his own he kissed it, with a laugh. "Your Grace's most obliged, obedient and humble servant, Ma'm."
Quite suddenly she became serious again and, releasing his fingers, looked him squarely in the face. "Roger, I've seen enough of the young London bucks to know that you are no ordinary lad. Together we may go far. Don't think that I have told you of my most intimate affairs idly or from a perverted pride in having had several lovers while still so young. Twill remain my jealously guarded secret from every other soul. But I'll need someone in the days to come who knows me better than I know myself; someone to whom I can give my whole confidence and who will advise me rightly in the crises with which I am bound to be faced. It may seem to you now a far cry from this room to London and the power that moves armies from behind a throne; but I have no shadow of doubt that you and I will get there, and I will make your every interest my own. For the moment I have done all I can for you. The next step must be yours. But I have given you something that no other woman will ever be able to give you, for this day I have made of you a man."
It suddenly flashed upon him that although he was not committed to her in one way he had committed himself in another. The inference was plain. He had pleaded his youth to excuse his fear of facing unknown perils and hardships, but she had given him manhood and now expected him to act upon it. Panic seized him and, in a fresh effort to escape, he muttered uneasily:
"Yes, you've made a man of me. But, somehow, I don't feel the least bit different. Perhaps that's because I didn't prove a very good one."
"Oh, yes, you did, m'dear," she reassured him sweetly. "For a first attempt you did your part nobly. And now you must begin to play a man's part in the world."
He saw that his honour was at stake. To draw back would be to shame himself before her in a way that was unthinkable. Yet the more he thought about it the less regret he felt at having fallen into the silken snare that he now realised she had deliberately laid for him. The awful decision as to if he should succumb to his father's will or continue his defiance had been taken for him. As the fact sank in it was as though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. His course was now clear, and he was vaguely surprised that he had not jumped at it in the first instance as the only sensible way out of his difficulties.
"So be it then!" he exclaimed. "I'll start this very night." "Well done!" she cried, clapping her hands. "Whither wilt thou make for?"
"London, I think, but with luck some chance to secure work may befall on the road." His glance fell on the basket of provisions, and he added: " 'Tis still early yet, but all the same I feel plaguey hungry."
"And so do I," laughed Georgina, jumping up to unpack the basket. " 'Tis but natural after our exertions. I would we had a bottle of sparkling Sillery here on which to celebrate; but there is cider and lots of things to eat."
They settled down to demolish the good things she had selected from the larder and after half an hour their two hearty young appetites had left not a crumb.
It was not yet eleven o'clock; but the heat of the tower room and their meal had made them drowsy, and Georgina said: "If you mean to take the road to-night 'twould be a good preparation to sleep a while. What say you to a nap?"
He nodded. "Yes, I had a plaguey long day yesterday, and already feel as if I had been up a week."
She arranged a pile of old cushions at one end of the settee, and, stretching herself on it luxuriously, drew him down beside her so that his face was pillowed on her breast, and her soft chin rested against his forehead. For a while they exchanged gentle caresses, then they both fell asleep.
When they awoke it was after two o'clock. Still drowsy, and warm from their long embrace, they kissed again, then sat up and put their rumpled clothes to rights.
"We'd best go down, I think," said Georgina, "and see what we can find in my jewel box for you to take with you."
"Nay, I beg- " he began. But she waved his protests aside.
"Be not a fool, Roger. Money in thy pocket will mean the difference between happiness and misery. Few people will give worthwhile employment to a pauper who begs his bread, but a full purse begets confidence and the man who has one can make his own terms. You must not waste your time sawing wood for a living but make your way to London and seek a secretaryship with some great nobleman who may be useful to us, later on."
"But I plan to be away no more than two or three months," he objected.
"That will depend on events; and you will be ill-advised to set out with that idea, as 'twould lead to your frittering away your time and getting nowhere. If your father relents and fortune has served you ill, clearly you should return. But if you secure some post of promise, as I pray you may, 'twould make you independent of your family and it might well pay you best to stick to it."
There was no gainsaying such sound common sense and as Georgina gathered her billowing skirts about her Roger picked up the basket to follow her down the seemingly endless flight of spiral stairs.
Leaving Roger in the orchard, Georgina went into the house, with the intention of smuggling her jewel box out under cover of some rugs and going through it with him under the trees. But on going indoors she learned that her father had driven into Christchurch on some business, so she went back to collect Roger and took him up to her room.
In the drowsy heat of the afternoon the house was very quiet, as the servants were taking their ease after their morning labours. Unlocking a cabinet, Georgina took from it a large box covered in crocodile skin and two smaller caskets. Opening all three she emptied their contents on the gay patchwork quilt of her bed.
Roger had always known that she loved trinkets, as she bedecked herself with them on every occasion, but he was amazed at the size and variety of her collection. Much of it was trashy stuff that she had bought herself with her pin-money in the neighbouring towns, but three-quarters of her treasure consisted of items of considerable value.
With deft fingers she began to sort the heap into two piles and as Roger saw that intended for himself rapidly increase in size he began to protest again. But she refused to listen to him and with prodigal generosity continued to throw gold chains, cameo brooches and paste shoe-buckles upon it, as she said:
"Believe me, I have no further use for these old-fashioned gewgaws, and as I never wear such things, papa will not suspect that I have parted with them. Besides, 'tis my wish that you should have much more than will merely keep you from hunger. When you reach London you should put up at some good inn. The 'Swan and Two Necks' in Lad Lane, or the 'Turk's Head' in the Strand are reputed good. Either would serve, but if you put up at the latter you'll be near Hoare's Bank, and 'tis there I'd advise you to place the money that you'll get by the sale of these jewels. Then you should get yourself made some London clothes, so as to cut a good figure, and frequent the coffee houses in Whitehall and St. James's. You will be taken for a young man of wealth and soon fall in with somebody who will introduce you to persons of good standing. Make yourself agreeable to their women, Roger, m'dear, and in no time at all some good opening will be offered to you."
As she rattled on all Roger's unhappy forebodings of hard manual labour and sleeping under haystacks gave place to rosy visions of ease, comfort and success. It all seemed so simple now, and this going out into the world a joyous adventure instead of a thing to dread.
When the division of the treasure had been completed, Georgina found a piece of strong satin to wrap Roger's share up in and stuffed it into one of his capacious pockets.
"I'll never be able to thank you enough," he murmured, kissing her again.
"Stuff and nonsense!" she declared, pushing him away from her. "Your sword is mine, remember
, and that good brain of yours, too. Maybe I'll call upon them sooner than you think. Once you are settled let me have your address and I'll seek some excuse to accompany papa on his next visit to London."
As they were about to leave her room he halted suddenly, and said: "Georgina! The strangest thought has just occurred to me. D'you recall last Christmas-tide when you told my future in a glass of water. You said then that high summer would bring a great change into my life, and that I'd be burdened with new cares and responsibilities. I thought then it must be my move to Upper School at Sherborne that you predicted. I little guessed that you were foretelling my leaving school for good!"
"Yes, I remember now," she nodded. "Would you like me to look into the glass for you again? 'Tis a risk, though. For I can tell only what I see, and it may not be good."
"I'll take that risk," he declared boldly. "Come—do it for me."
"As you will, then." While he cleared an array of fans and perfumed gloves from a small Buhl table, and moved it from the muslin-draped bow window farther into the room, she filled a toothglass with water from the jug on her washstand. Setting it down in the centre of the table, she drew up a chair and he took another opposite to her.
"Take my hands," she ordered.
On his obeying, she dropped her eyes to the glass and concentrated their gaze upon it. After a minute or two she began to speak in a lower voice than usual.
"There is water, Roger. You will cross water many times and always be in danger from it. I see you as several years older, near drowning, and with a parchment you value clenched between your teeth. But the scene changes. I see you now with your sword in your hand, and this will be soon. Oh, m'dear, be careful. Wait though, I see no blood. No blood is spilled and you are laughing with a tall man. I cannot see his face but it seems that there is something amiss with his left eye. He gives me an uneasy feeling. There is now another with him; an old man with white hair. He is a cunning rogue but he is looking at you with affection. You will go into some sort of partnership together and profit from it greatly; yet 'tis a dangerous game and will not lead you to fortune."
The Launching of Roger Brook rb-1 Page 8