Mistress Wilding

by Rafael Sabatini

  CHAPTER XX. THE RECKONING

  Ruth had sped home through the streets unattended, as she had come,heedless of the rude jostlings and ruder greetings she met with fromthose she passed; heedless, too, of the smarting of her injured hand,for the agony of her soul was such that it whelmed all minor sufferingsof the flesh.

  In the dining-room at Lupton House she came upon Diana and Lady Hortonat supper, and her appearance--her white and distraught face andblood-smeared gown--brought both women to their feet in alarmed inquiry,no less than it brought Jasper, the butler, to her side with readysolicitude. Ruth answered him that there was no cause for fear, that shewas quite well--had scratched her hand, no more; and with that dismissedhim. When she was alone with her aunt and cousin, she sank into a chairand told them what had passed 'twixt her husband and herself and most ofwhat she said was Greek to Lady Horton.

  "Mr. Wilding has gone to warn the Duke," she ended, and the despair ofher tone was tragical. "I sought to detain him until it should be toolate--I thought I had done so, but... but... Oh, I am afraid, Diana!"

  "Afraid of what?" asked Diana. "Afraid of what?"

  And she came to Ruth and set an arm in comfort about her shoulders.

  "Afraid that Mr. Wilding might reach the Duke in time to be destroyedwith him," her cousin answered. "Such a warning could but hasten on theblow."

  Lady Horton begged to be enlightened, and was filled with horrorwhen--from Diana--enlightenment was hers. Her sympathies were all withthe handsome Monmouth, for he was beautiful and should therefore betriumphant; poor Lady Horton never got beyond externals. That hernephew and Sir Rowland, whom she had esteemed, should be leagued in thisdastardly undertaking against that lovely person horrified her beyondwords. She withdrew soon afterwards, having warmly praised Ruth's actionin warning Mr. Wilding--unable to understand that it should be no partof Ruth's design to save the Duke--and went to her room to pray for thepreservation of the late King's handsome son.

  Left alone with her cousin, Ruth gave expression to the fears forRichard by which she was being tortured. Diana poured wine for herand urged her to drink; she sought to comfort and reassure her. Butas moments passed and grew to hours and still Richard did not appear,Ruth's fears that he had come to harm were changed to certainty. Therewas a moment when, but for Diana's remonstrances, she had gone forth inquest of news. Bad news were better than this horror of suspense. Whatif Wilding's warning should have procured help, and Richard were slainin consequence? Oh, it was unthinkable! Diana, white of face, listenedto and shared her fears. Even her shallow nature was stirred by thetragedy of Ruth's position, by dread lest Richard should indeed have methis end that night. In these moments of distress, she forgot her hopesof triumphing over Blake, of punishing him for his indifference toherself.

  At last, at something after midnight, there came a fevered rapping atthe outer door. Both women started up, and with arms about each other,in their sudden panic, stood there waiting for the news that must behere at last.

  The door of the dining-room was flung open; the women recoiled intheir dread of what might come; then Richard entered, Jasper's startledcountenance showing behind him.

  He closed the door, shutting out the wondering servant, and they sawthat, though his face was ashen and his limbs all a-tremble, he showedno sign of any hurt or effort. His dress was as meticulous as when lastthey had seen him. Ruth flew to him, flung her arms about his neck, andpressed him to her.

  "Oh, Richard, Richard!" she sobbed in the immensity of her relief."Thank God! Thank God!"

  He wriggled peevishly in her embrace, disengaged her arms, and put herfrom him almost roughly. "Have done!" he growled, and, lurching pasther, he reached the table, took up a bottle, and brimmed himself ameasure. He gulped the wine avidly, set down the cup, and shivered."Where is Blake?" he asked.

  "Blake?" echoed Ruth, her lips white. Diana sank into a chair,watchful, fearful and silent, taking now no glory in the thing she hadencompassed.

  Richard beat his hands together in a passion of dismay. "Is he nothere?" he asked, and groaned, "O God!" He flung himself all limp into achair. "You have heard the news, I see," he said.

  "Not all of it," said Diana hoarsely, leaning forward. "Tell us whatpassed."

  He moistened his lips with his tongue. "We were betrayed," he said in aquivering voice. "Betrayed! Did I but know by whom..." He broke off witha bitter laugh and shrugged, rubbing his hands together and shiveringtill his shoulders shook. "Blake's party was set upon by half a companyof musketeers. Their corpses are strewn about old Newlington's orchard.Not one of them escaped. They say that Newlington himself is dead." Hepoured himself more wine.

  Ruth listened, her eyes burning, the rest of her as cold as ice."But...but... oh, thank God that you at least are safe, Dick!"

  "How did you escape?" quoth Diana.

  "How?" He started as if he had been stung. He laughed in a high, crackedvoice, his eyes wild and bloodshot. "How? Perhaps it is just as wellthat Blake has gone to his account. Perhaps..." He checked on the word,and started to his feet; Diana screamed in sheer affright. Behind herthe windows had been thrust open so violently that one of the panes wasshivered. Blake stood under the lintel, scarce recognizable, so smearedwas his face with the blood escaping from the wound his cheek had taken.His clothes were muddied, soiled, torn, and disordered.

  Framed there against the black background of the night, he stood andsurveyed them for a moment, his aspect terrific. Then he leapt forward,baring his sword as he came. An incoherent roar burst from his lips ashe bore straight down upon Richard.

  "You damned, infernal traitor!" he cried. "Draw, draw! Or die like themuckworm that you are."

  Intrepid, her terror all vanished now that there was the need forcourage, Ruth confronted him, barring his passage, a buckler to herpalsied brother.

  "Out of my way, mistress, or I'll be doing you a mischief."

  "You are mad, Sir Rowland," she told him in a voice that did somethingtowards restoring him to his senses.

  His fierce eyes considered her a moment, and he controlled himself tooffer an explanation. "The twenty that were with me lie stark underthe stars in Newlington's garden," he told her, as Richard had told heralready. "I escaped by a miracle, no less, but for what? Feversham willdemand of me a stern account of those lives, whilst if I am found inBridgwater there will be a short shrift for me at the rebel hands--formy share in this affair is known, my name on every lip in the town. Andwhy?" he asked with a sudden increase of fierceness. "Why? Because thatcraven villain there betrayed me."

  "He did not," she answered in so assured a voice that not only did itgive him pause, but caused Richard, cowering behind her, to raise hishead in wonder.

  Sir Rowland smiled his disbelief, and that smile, twisting hisblood-smeared countenance, was grotesque and horrible. "I left him toguard our backs and give me warning if any approached," he informed her."I knew him for too great a coward to be trusted in the fight; so I gavehim a safe task, and yet in that he failed me-failed me because he hadbetrayed and sold me."

  "He had not. I tell you he had not," she insisted. "I swear it."

  He stared at her. "There was no one else for it," he made answer, andbade her harshly stand aside.

  Diana, huddled together, watched and waited in horror for the end ofthese consequences of her work.

  Blake made a sudden movement to win past Ruth. Richard staggered to hisfeet intent on defending himself; but he was swordless; retreat to thedoor suggested itself, and he had half turned to attempt to gain it,when Ruth's next words arrested him, petrified him.

  "There was some one else for it, Sir Rowland," she cried. "It was notRichard who betrayed you. It... it was I."

  "You?" The fierceness seemed all to drop away from him, whelmed in theimmensity of his astonishment. "You?" Then he laughed loud in scornfuldisbelief. "You think to save him," he said.

  "Should I lie?" she asked him, calm and brave.

  He stared at her stupidly; he passed a hand across hi
s brow, and lookedat Diana. "Oh, it is impossible!" he said at last.

  "You shall hear," she answered, and told him how at the last moment shehad learnt not only that her husband was in Bridgwater, but that he wasto sup at Newlington's with the Duke's party.

  "I had no thought of betraying you or of saving the Duke," she said."I knew how justifiable was what you intended. But I could not let Mr.Wilding go to his death. I sought to detain him, warning him only whenI thought it would be too late for him to warn others. But you delayedoverlong, and..."

  A hoarse inarticulate cry from him came to interrupt her at that point.One glimpse of his face she had and of the hand half raised with swordpointing towards her, and she closed her eyes, thinking that her sandswere run. And, indeed, Blake's intention was just then to kill her. Thathe should owe his betrayal to her was in itself cause enough toenrage him, but that her motive should have been her desire to saveWilding--Wilding of all men!--that was the last straw.

  Had he been forewarned that Wilding was to be one of Monmouth's party atMr. Newlington's, his pulses would have throbbed with joy, and he wouldhave flung himself into his murderous task with twice the zest he hadcarried to it. And now he learnt that not only had she thwarted hisschemes against Monmouth, but had deprived him of the ardently soughtfelicity of widowing her. He drew back his arm for the thrust;Diana huddled into her chair too horror-stricken to speak or move:Richard--immediately behind his sister--saw nothing of what was passing,and thought of nothing but his own safety.

  Then Blake paused, stepped back, returned his sword to its scabbard, andbending himself--but whether to bow or not was not quite plain--he tooksome paces backwards, then turned and went out by the window as he hadcome. But there was a sudden purposefulness in the way he did it thatmight have warned them this withdrawal was not quite the retreat itseemed.

  They watched him with many emotions, predominant among which was relief,and when he was gone Diana rose and came to Ruth.

  "Come," she said, and sought to lead her from the room.

  But there was Richard now to be reckoned with, Richard from whom thepalsy was of a sudden fallen, now that the cause of it had withdrawn.He had his back to the door, and his weak mouth was pursed up into asemblance of resolution, his pale eyes looked stern, his white eyebrowsbent together in a frown.

  "Wait," he said. They looked at him, and the shadow of a smile almostflitted across Diana's face. He stepped to the door, and, opening it,held it wide. "Go, Diana," he said. "Ruth and I must understand eachother."

  Diana hesitated. "You had better go, Diana," said her cousin, whereuponMistress Horton went.

  Hot and fierce came the recriminations from Richard's lips when he andhis sister were alone, and Ruth weathered the storm bravely until itwas stemmed again by fresh fear in Richard. For Blake had suddenlyreappeared. He came forward from his window; his manner composed andfull of resolution. Young Westmacott recoiled, the heat all frozen outof him. But Blake scarce looked at him, his smouldering glance was allfor Ruth, who watched him with incipient fear, despite herself.

  "Madam," he said, "'tis not to be supposed a mind holding so muchthought for a husband's safety could find room for any concern as toanother's. I will ask you, natheless, to consider what tale I am to bearLord Feversham."

  "What tale?" said she.

  "Aye--that will account for what has chanced; for my failure todischarge the task entrusted me, and for the slaughter of an officer ofhis and twenty men.

  "Why ask me this?" she demanded half angrily; then suddenly bethinkingher of how she had ruined his enterprise, and of the position in whichshe had placed him, she softened. Her clear mind held justice very dear.She approached. "Oh, I am sorry--sorry, Sir Rowland," she cried.

  He sneered. He had wiped some of the blood from his face, but stilllooked terrible enough.

  "Sorry!" said he, and laughed unpleasantly. "You'll come with me toFeversham and tell him what you did," said he.

  "I?" She recoiled in fear.

  "At once" he informed her.

  "Wha... what's that?" faltered Richard, calling up his manhood, andcoming forward. "What are you saying, Blake?"

  Sir Rowland disdained to heed him. "Come, mistress," he said, andputting forward his hand he caught her wrist and pulled her roughlytowards him. She struggled to free herself, but he leered evilly uponher, no whit discomposed by her endeavours. Though short of stature,he was a man of considerable bodily strength, and she, though tall, wasslight of frame. He released her wrist, and before she realized what hewas about he had stooped, passed an arm behind her knees, another roundher waist, and, swinging her from her feet, took her up bodily in hisarms. He turned about, and a scream broke from her.

  "Hold!" cried Richard. "Hold, you madman!"

  "Keep off, or I'll make an end of you before I go," roared Blake overhis shoulder, for already he had turned about and was making for thewindow, apparently no more hindered by his burden than had she been adoll.

  Richard sprang to the door. "Jasper!" he bawled. "Jasper!" He had noweapons, as we have seen, else it may be that he had made an attempt touse them.

  Ruth got a hand free and caught at the windowframe as Blake was leapingthrough. It checked their progress, but did not sensibly delay it. Itwas unfortunately her wounded hand with which she had sought to cling,and with an angry, brutal wrench Sir Rowland compelled her to uncloseher grasp. He sped down the lawn towards the orchard, where his horsewas tethered. And now she knew in a subconscious sort of way why he hadearlier withdrawn. He had gone to saddle for this purpose.

  She struggled now, thinking that he would be too hampered to compel herto his will. He became angry, and set her down beside his horse, one armstill holding her.

  "Look you, mistress," he told her fiercely, "living or dead, you comewith me to Feversham. Choose now."

  His tone was such that she never doubted he would carry out his threat.And so in dull despair she submitted, hoping that Feversham might bea gentleman and would recognize and respect a lady. Half fainting, sheallowed him to swing her to the withers of his horse. Thus they threadedtheir way in the dim starlit night through the trees towards the gate.

  It stood open, and they passed out into the lane. There Sir Rowland puthis horse to the trot, which he increased to a gallop when he was overthe bridge and clear of the town.