The Launching of Roger Brook

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The Launching of Roger Brook Page 9

by Dennis Wheatley


  ‘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 tonight ’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 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.’

  She paused for a moment, then went on: ‘I see you in the dusk upon a lonely heath with trees nearby. You are older now, much older. A halted coach stands in the road and you are conversing angrily with its occupants. They have a foreign look, but these are persons of quality, richly dressed and with jewel-hilted swords. Alack! They have got c
ut and you are fighting with them now. The older of the two attacks you ferociously. To deal death lies in both your hearts. The wraith of a woman rises between your flashing swords. She is fair-haired, slim of figure, and has a haughty, aristocratic face. ’Tis over her that you are fighting. There is blood now, a mist of blood obscures all. Alas! Alas! I can see no more. I cannot tell if you live or die.’ With a little wail she snatched her hands from Roger’s, and burying her face in them, let her head fall forward on the table.

  He had gone a trifle pale, but he quickly recovered himself and began to stroke her hair, murmuring softly as he did so.

  There, there, Georgina, darling. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I’ll be all right. I vow I will. You were speaking of some years hence, and by the time I’m fully grown I’ll be a match with the rapier for any man.’

  She raised her head, her eyes still swimming. ‘Oh, Roger, dear, do take care. You seemed furiously angry. But you must keep calm. You must keep calm; your life will hang on that. And you’ll need all your skill. Your antagonist will be one of the finest swordsmen in France.’

  ‘In France?’ he echoed.

  ‘Yes.’ She shook herself. ‘Why did I say that? I know not. Yet I am certain ‘twas in France that I saw you, as a man of maybe twenty, fighting this frightful duel.’

  Georgina had discovered when still quite young that she had inherited the gift of second sight from her gipsy mother, and she had often told Roger’s fortune on previous occasions, but generally half playfully, and never with such an outpouring of emotion.

  ‘You’ve never told me half as much, or described people that I’m going to meet when you’ve looked in the glass for me before,’ he remarked, thoughtfully.

  She shrugged. ‘Perhaps I’m getting better at it now I’m older. But I don’t think it’s that. There is little to foresee in a schoolboy’s dull existence, whereas from now on all sorts of things may happen to you.’

  ‘Are you not jealous of the fair-haired girl,’ he laughed, trying to make light of the matter.

  ‘Why should I be?’ she answered seriously. ‘I’ve had you first and I’ll have you last, if I’ve a mind to it. That is—if you live to come back to me.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll never forget you, Georgina, wherever I may go. I may fall in love with other women for a season, but you will ever hold a special place in my heart.’

  ‘And you in mine, dear Roger. Our comradeship these two years past has meant more to me than you can ever know. But the day marches. ’Tis near four o’clock, and you’ll need to buy a few things in Lymington before you set out; so you should be on your way if you mean to take the road to London tonight.’

  ‘So be it then. Let us go down, and we can say farewell while my horse is being brought round from the stables.’

  ‘Nay,’ she shook her head. ‘I’ll not come down. Kiss me good-bye here. Then I can have a good cry about you on my bed as you ride away. ’Tis monstrous foolish of me, but I almost think I love you at this moment.’

  ‘Then pledge yourself to me,’ he cried impulsively. ‘You’re wondrous beautiful, and if I feel not love for you I know not what it is. Your kisses fire me as naught else has ever done, and I would give my life to protect your happiness.’

  ‘Nay, sweet Roger. ’Tis you who are being foolish now, and we are pledged to something far more lasting than a summer’s passion. Kiss me now and go. May God protect you.’

  Once more her soft arms were round his neck and their mouths crushed together. Then she broke from him and, stifling a sob, turned away.

  A moment later he was clattering down the stairs on his way out into the world to seek fame and fortune.

  6

  Vendetta

  Roger had now adopted Georgina’s plan, that he should go to London, cut a fine figure on the proceeds of her jewels and trust to his natural gifts to secure him a promising opening, without reservation; and, had he there and then turned his mount towards Lyndhurst and the London road, his future would have been entirely different.

  Fate decreed, however, that unreasoning instinct should impel him to ride back to Lymington as his natural starting-point on this great adventure. For one thing, although the little mare he was riding was always regarded as his in the holidays, it never even occurred to him to deprive his parents of her in order to facilitate his journey; for another, Georgina had put it into his mind that, before setting out, he should buy a few things that he was bound to need, in the town; and for a third, he felt that he could not leave his mother the prey to most appalling anxiety by simply disappearing without a word.

  Entering Lymington from the west he rode past the church, up the High Street and through the low arch that gave on to the stable yard of the Angel Inn. As he handed his mare over to the ostler for a rub down and a feed he knew that she would be quite safe there and, when he failed to claim her, be duly returned to her own stable the following morning. Realising that it was the last he would see of the skittish little chestnut, he gave her an extra pat, and turned, rather sorrowfully, into the tap-room.

  At this hour of the afternoon, as it was not a market day, the low-raftered tap-room was deserted. He rapped his riding-crop sharply on one of the stout oak tables until a fresh-cheeked girl appeared, then he asked her for a glass of Ratifia and writing things. She brought him the cordial, an inkhorn, quill pen, sand-shoe and paper. Sitting down he composed a letter to his mother, which ran:

  My dear Mother,

  Please do not think too hardly of me, but I have formed an unshakable determination not to go to sea. The only course that is open to me is to leave home for a while. Yet do not think of me, I beg, as penniless or hungry. A good friend has furnished me with ample funds and now that I am a man in all but stature I am quite capable of taking good care of myself. Do not be uneasy should I not write to you for some little time but I will do so as soon as I am settled in some profitable employment and, if by then my father has relented, I will gladly return home to discuss any other project for my future.

  Your very loving, if undutiful, son,

  Roger.

  Having sanded his missive he sealed it with a wafer and put it in his pocket, knowing that he could give it to anyone in the town just before his departure and be quite certain of its safe delivery.

  He next considered how best to set about his journey. To walk all the way to London seemed a stupid and time-wasting proceeding now that he could well afford to go by coach; yet there was a snag to that, since his new-found wealth was not in coin and on counting over his money he found that he had only five and eightpence on him.

  To endeavour to turn some of Georgina’s trinkets into cash at the local silversmiths seemed a risky venture. The man was a sour creature and would be certain to wonder how a lad had come into possession of a woman’s jewellery. He would probably think that Roger, having got into difficulties, had purloined them from his mother’s jewel-box, say that he must have a little time to assess their value and take them along for Lady Marie’s inspection that very evening.

  The thought of his money-box at home began to tantalise Roger. In it there was gold as well as silver, and more than enough to pay his coach fare to London—if only he could manage to collect it. On more than one occasion he had been out on a ramble at night with his friend Jack Bond, when his mother thought him safely tucked up in his bed asleep, and had got back into the house, in the small hours, by way of his bedroom window. He wondered if he dared risk a clandestine visit to his room that night for the purpose of burgling his own money-box, and decided that it would be worth it, as he could at the same time collect a dozen other things that would be useful to him and that he had not the ready cash to buy at the moment. It would mean waiting until the household was fast asleep, but a few hours’ delay in the time of his setting out would make little difference.

  Once he had secured the money he would walk into Southampton. It was thirteen miles; a longish trudge but no great matter for an active and healthy youngster. He could ge
t there easily, before dawn, secure a seat in the morning coach, and be in London by the following evening.

  At the thought of London, his optimism suffered a sharp decline. All Old Ben’s stories of cut-purses and thieves’ kitchens came back to him. He had very little idea what Georgina’s jewellery should fetch, but, at a guess, he put its worth at anything from two to five hundred guineas. To enter London with such a treasure seemed to be tempting providence; yet how could he dispose of it otherwise?

  There were goldsmiths in Southampton, or at Winchester if he chose to break his journey there, who would give an honest price for what he had to sell; but the question was, would any of them do a deal with him? Would they not wonder where a youngster of his age had obtained this small fortune in gold chains, brooches, buckles and bangles? He could think of no plausible explanation as to how he had come into possession of such property. If he were detained and an inquiry made, it could only result in his being ignominiously returned to his father.

  The more he thought of the difficulty of dispersing of his spoil, the more worried he became about it. If only there had been someone to whom he could go immediately on reaching London—someone he knew and could trust—the transaction might have been arranged with safety and despatch, but he had not a single acquaintance there; and it now seemed to him that even endeavouring to sell single pieces in provincial towns would be fraught with a certain danger. Each attempted sale would expose him to the risk of questioning and detention.

  The elegant figure of Droopy Ned drifted across his mind, bringing him fresh hope for a moment. He felt that he would be perfectly safe in confiding his whole story to Droopy and that the eccentric young nobleman, having a passion for jewels, would probably buy the whole collection from him; or at least, arrange a sale and see that he was not cheated. But the question was, would Droopy be in London?

  All the odds were that he would not. At this season it was as good as certain that the Marquess of Amesbury would be at his seat, Normanrood, in Wiltshire, and that Droopy would spend at least a fortnight there taking leave of his family before setting out on the Grand Tour. It was probable that he would spend some days in London before actually leaving for the Continent but when that would be it was impossible to guess and it was even probable that he might elect to cross to France by the more direct route from Southampton.

 

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