CHAPTER VII
THE HALT AT THE MOORHEN
Patience herself would have been quite unable to explain why shemistrusted, almost feared, Sir Humphrey Challoner.
The fact that the Squire of Hartington had openly declared hisadmiration for her, surely gave her no cause for suspecting him ofenmity towards her brother. She knew that Sir Humphrey hoped to win herhand in marriage--this he had intimated to her on more than oneoccasion, and had spoken of his love for her in no measured terms.
Lady Patience Gascoyne was one of the richest gentlewomen in theMidlands, having inherited vast wealth from her mother, who was sisterand co-heiress of the rich Grantham of Grantham Priory. No doubt herrent-roll added considerably to her attractions in the eyes of SirHumphrey; that she was more than beautiful only helped to enhance theardour of his suit.
Women as a rule--women of all times and of every nation--keep a kindlyfeeling in their heart for the suitor whom they reject. A certainregard for his sense of discrimination, an admiration for hisconstancy--if he be constant--make up a sum of friendship for himtempered with a gentle pity.
But in most women too there is a subtle sense which for want of a morescientific term has been called an instinct: the sense of protectionover those whom they love.
In Patience Gascoyne that sense was abnormally developed: Philip was soboyish, so young, she so much older in wisdom and prudence. It made herfear Sir Humphrey, not for herself but for her brother: her baby, as inher tender motherly heart she loved to call him.
She feared and suspected him, she scarce could tell of what. Not openenmity towards Philip, since her reason told her that the Squire ofHartington had nothing to gain by actively endangering her brother'slife, let alone by doing him a grievous wrong.
Yet she could not understand Sir Humphrey Challoner's motive incounselling Philip to play so cowardly and foolish a part, as the boyhad done in the late rebellion. Vaguely she trembled at the idea thathe should know of her journey to London, or worse still, guess itspurpose. Philip, she feared, might have confided in him unbeknown toher: Sir Humphrey, for aught she knew, might know of the existence ofthe letters which would go to prove the boy's innocence.
Well! and what then? Surely the Squire could have no object in wishingthose letters to be suppressed: he could but desire that Philip'sinnocence _should_ be proved.
Thus reason and instinct fought their battle in her brain as the heavycoach went lumbering along the muddy road to the little wayside inn,which stood midway between the cross-roads and the village of Aldwark.
Here her man Timothy made arrangements for the resting and feeding ofhimself, the horses and Thomas, the driver, whilst Lady Patience askedfor a private room wherein she and her maid, Betty, could get somethingto eat and perhaps an hour's sleep before re-starting on their way.
The small bar-parlour at the Moorhen was full to overflowing when herladyship's coach drove up. Already there had been a general air ofexcitement there throughout the day, for the Corporal in his red coat,followed by his little squad, had halted at the inn, and there once moreread aloud the Proclamation of His Majesty's Parliament.
The soldiers had stayed half an hour or so, consuming large quantitiesof ale the while, then they had marched up to the village, read theProclamation out on the green, and finally tramped along the bridle-pathback to Brassington.
And now here was the quality putting up at the Moorhen. A mostunheard-of, unexpected event. Mistress Pottage, the sad-faced,weary-eyed landlady, had never known such a thing to happen before,although she had been mistress of the Moorhen for nigh on twenty years.Usually the quality from Stretton Hall or from Hartington, or even LadyRounce from the Pike, preferred to drive a long way round to get toDerby, sooner than trust to the lonely Heath, with its roads almostimpassable four days out of five.
Master Mittachip, attorney-at-law, who had ridden over from Wirksworthwith his clerk, Master Duffy, recognised her ladyship as she stepped outof her coach.
"Sir Humphrey will be astonished," he whispered to Master Duffy, as herubbed his ill-shaven chin with his long bony fingers.
"He! he! he!" echoed the clerk, submissively.
Master Mittachip, who transacted business for the Squire of Hartington,and also for old Lady Rounce and Squire West, knew the exact shade ofdeference due to so great a lady as Lady Patience Gascoyne. He stood atthe door of the parlour and had the honour of bowing to her as shefollowed Mistress Pottage quickly along the passage to the inner roomBeyond, her long cloak flying out behind her, owing to the draughtcaused by the open doors.
Alone in the small, dingy room, Patience almost fell upon the sofa in astupor of intense fatigue. When Mistress Pottage brought the meagre,ill-cooked food, she felt at first quite unable to eat. She lay backagainst the hard pillows with eyes closed, and hands tightly clutchingthat bundle of precious letters.
Betty tried to make her comfortable. She took off her mistress's shoesand stockings and began rubbing the cold, numb feet between her warmhands.
But by-and-by youth and health reasserted themselves. Patience,realising all the time how much depended upon her own strength andenergy, roused herself with an effort of will. She tried to eat some ofthe food, "the mess of pottage" as she smilingly termed it, but her eyeswere for ever wandering to the clock which ticked the hours--oh! soslowly!--that separated her from her journey.
As for buxom little Betty, she had fallen to with the vigorous appetiteof youth and a happy heart, and presently, like a tired child, shecurled herself up at the foot of the couch and soon dropped peacefullyto sleep.
After awhile, Patience too, feeling numb and drowsy with the wearinessof this long afternoon, closed her eyes and fell into a kind of stupor.She lay on the sofa like a log, tired out, dreamless, her senses numbed,in a kind of wakeful sleep.
How long she lay there she could not have told, but all of a sudden shesat up, her eyes dilated, her heart beating fast; she was fully awakenow.
Something had suddenly roused her. What was it? She glanced at theclock; it was just half-past three. She must have slept nearly half anhour. Betty, on the floor beside her, still slumbered peacefully.
Then all her senses woke. She knew what had aroused her: the rumblingof wheels, a coach pulling up, the shouts of the driver. And now shecould hear men running, more shouting, the jingle of harness and horsesbeing led round the house to the shed beyond.
The small lattice window gave upon the side of the house, she could notsee the coach or who this latest arrival at the Moorhen was; but whatmattered that? she knew well enough.
For a moment she stopped to think; forcibly conquering excitement andalarm, she called to her reason to tell her what to do.
Sir Humphrey Challoner's presence here might be a coincidence, she hadno cause to suspect that he was purposely following her. But in anycase she wished to avoid him. How could that best be done?
Mittachip, the lawyer, had seen and recognised her. Within the next fewmoments the Squire would hear of her presence at the inn. He too,obviously, had come to rest his horses here. How long would he stay?
She roused Betty.
"Betty! child!" she whispered. "Wake up! We must leave this place atonce."
Betty opened her eyes: she saw her mistress's pale, excited face bendingover her, and she jumped to her feet.
"Listen, Betty," continued Patience. "Sir Humphrey Challoner has justcome by coach. I want to leave this place before he knows that I amhere."
"But the horses are not put to, my lady."
"Sh! don't talk so loud, child. I am going to slip out along thepassage, there is a door at the end of it which must give upon the backof the house. As soon as I am gone, do you go to the parlour and tellThomas to have the horses put to directly they have had sufficient rest,and to let the coach be at the cross-roads as soon as may be afterthat."
"Yes, my lady."
"Then as quickly as you can, slip out of the house and f
ollow the roadthat leads to the forge. I'll be on the lookout for you. I'll not havegone far. You quite understand?"
"Oh, yes! my lady!"
"You are not afraid?"
Mistress Betty shrugged her plump shoulders.
"In broad daylight? Oh, no, my lady! and the forge is but a mile."
Even as she spoke Patience had wrapped her dark cloak and hood roundher. She listened intently for a few seconds. The sound of voicesseemed to come from the more remote bar-parlour: moreover, the narrowpassage at this end was quite dark: she had every chance of slipping outunperceived.
"Sh! sh!" she whispered to Betty as she opened the door.
The passage was deserted: almost holding her breath, lest it shouldbetray her, Patience reached the door at the further end of it, Bettyanxiously watching her from the inner room. Quickly she slipped thebolt, and the next instant she found herself looking out upon a dingyunfenced yard, which for the moment was hopelessly encumbered with thetwo huge travelling coaches: beyond these was a long wooden shed whenceproceeded the noise of voices and laughter, and the stamping andsnorting of horses: and far away the Moor to the right and left of herstretched out in all the majesty of its awesome loneliness.
The wind caught her cloak as she stepped out into the yard: she clutchedit tightly and held it close to her. She hoped the two coaches, whichstood between her and the shed, would effectively hide her from viewuntil she was past the house. The next moment, however, she heard anexclamation behind her, then the sound of firm steps upon theflagstones, and a second or two later she stood face to face with SirHumphrey Challoner.
Beau Brocade: A Romance Page 7