Peveril of the Peak

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER VI

  You shall have no worse prison than my chamber, Nor jailer than myself. --THE CAPTAIN.

  The command which Lady Peveril laid on her domestics to arm themselves,was so unlike the usual gentle acquiescence of her manners, that MajorBridgenorth was astonished. "How mean you, madam?" said he; "I thoughtmyself under a friendly roof."

  "And you are so, Master Bridgenorth," said the Lady Peveril, withoutdeparting from the natural calmness of her voice and manner; "but it isa roof which must not be violated by the outrage of one friend againstanother."

  "It is well, madam," said Bridgenorth, turning to the door of theapartment. "The worthy Master Solsgrace has already foretold, that thetime was returned when high houses and proud names should be once morean excuse for the crimes of those who inhabit the one and bear theother. I believed him not, but now see he is wiser than I. Yet think notI will endure this tamely. The blood of my brother--of the friend of mybosom--shall not long call from the altar, 'How long, O Lord, how long!'If there is one spark of justice left in this unhappy England, thatproud woman and I shall meet where she can have no partial friend toprotect her."

  So saying, he was about to leave the apartment, when Lady Peveril said,"You depart not from this place, Master Bridgenorth, unless you give meyour word to renounce all purpose against the noble Countess's libertyupon the present occasion."

  "I would sooner," answered he, "subscribe to my own dishonour, madam,written down in express words, than to any such composition. If anyman offers to interrupt me, his blood be on his own head!" As MajorBridgenorth spoke, Whitaker threw open the door, and showed that, withthe alertness of an old soldier, who was not displeased to see thingstend once more towards a state of warfare, he had got with him fourstout fellows in the Knight of the Peak's livery, well armed with swordsand carabines, buff-coats, and pistols at their girdles.

  "I will see," said Major Bridgenorth, "if any of these men be sodesperate as to stop me, a freeborn Englishman, and a magistrate in thedischarge of my duty."

  So saying, he advanced upon Whitaker and his armed assistants, with hishand on the hilt of his sword.

  "Do not be so desperate, Master Bridgenorth," exclaimed Lady Peveril;and added, in the same moment, "Lay hold upon, and disarm him, Whitaker;but do him no injury."

  Her commands were obeyed. Bridgenorth, though a man of moral resolution,was not one of those who undertook to cope in person with odds of adescription so formidable. He half drew his sword, and offered such showof resistance as made it necessary to secure him by actual force; butthen yielded up his weapon, and declared that, submitting to forcewhich one man was unable to resist, he made those who commanded, andwho employed it, responsible for assailing his liberty without a legalwarrant.

  "Never mind a warrant on a pinch, Master Bridgenorth," said oldWhitaker; "sure enough you have often acted upon a worse yourself. Mylady's word is as good as a warrant, sure, as Old Noll's commission; andyou bore that many a day, Master Bridgenorth, and, moreover, you laidme in the stocks for drinking the King's health, Master Bridgenorth, andnever cared a farthing about the laws of England."

  "Hold your saucy tongue, Whitaker," said the Lady Peveril; "and do you,Master Bridgenorth, not take it to heart that you are detained prisonerfor a few hours, until the Countess of Derby can have nothing to fearfrom your pursuit. I could easily send an escort with her that mightbid defiance to any force you could muster; but I wish, Heaven knows, tobury the remembrance of old civil dissensions, not to awaken new. Oncemore, will you think better of it--assume your sword again, and forgetwhom you have now seen at Martindale Castle?"

  "Never," said Bridgenorth. "The crime of this cruel woman will be thelast of human injuries which I can forget. The last thought of earthlykind which will leave me, will be the desire that justice shall be doneon her."

  "If such be your sentiments," said Lady Peveril, "though they aremore allied to revenge than to justice, I must provide for my friend'ssafety, by putting restraint upon your person. In this room you willbe supplied with every necessary of life, and every convenience; and amessage shall relieve your domestics of the anxiety which your absencefrom the Hall is not unlikely to occasion. When a few hours, at most twodays, are over, I will myself relieve you from confinement, and demandyour pardon for now acting as your obstinacy compels me to do."

  The Major made no answer, but that he was in her hands, and must submitto her pleasure; and then turned sullenly to the window, as if desirousto be rid of their presence.

  The Countess and the Lady Peveril left the apartment arm in arm; andthe lady issued forth her directions to Whitaker concerning the mode inwhich she was desirous that Bridgenorth should be guarded and treatedduring his temporary confinement; at the same time explaining to him,that the safety of the Countess of Derby required that he should beclosely watched.

  In all proposals for the prisoner's security, such as the regular reliefof guards, and the like, Whitaker joyfully acquiesced, and undertook,body for body, that he should be detained in captivity for the necessaryperiod. But the old steward was not half so docile when it came to beconsidered how the captive's bedding and table should be supplied; andhe thought Lady Peveril displayed a very undue degree of attentionto her prisoner's comforts. "I warrant," he said, "that the cuckoldlyRoundhead ate enough of our fat beef yesterday to serve him for a month;and a little fasting will do his health good. Marry, for drink, he shallhave plenty of cold water to cool his hot liver, which I will be boundis still hissing with the strong liquors of yesterday. And as forbedding, there are the fine dry board--more wholesome than the wet strawI lay upon when I was in the stocks, I trow."

  "Whitaker," said the lady peremptorily, "I desire you to provide MasterBridgenorth's bedding and food in the way I have signified to you; andto behave yourself towards him in all civility."

  "Lack-a-day! yes, my lady," said Whitaker; "you shall have all yourdirections punctually obeyed; but as an old servant, I cannot but speakmy mind."

  The ladies retired after this conference with the steward in theantechamber, and were soon seated in another apartment, which waspeculiarly dedicated to the use of the mistress of the mansion--having,on the one side, access to the family bedroom; and, on the other, to thestill-room which communicated with the garden. There was also asmall door which, ascending a few steps, led to that balcony, alreadymentioned, that overhung the kitchen; and the same passage, by aseparate door, admitted to the principal gallery in the chapel; so thatthe spiritual and temporal affairs of the Castle were placed almost atonce within the reach of the same regulating and directing eye.[*]

  [*] This peculiar collocation of apartments may be seen at Haddon Hall, Derbyshire, once a seat of the Vernons, where, in the lady's pew in the chapel, there is a sort of scuttle, which opens into the kitchen, so that the good lady could ever and anon, without much interruption of her religious duties, give an eye that the roast-meat was not permitted to burn, and that the turn-broche did his duty.

  In the tapestried room, from which issued these various sally-ports, theCountess and Lady Peveril were speedily seated; and the former, smilingupon the latter, said, as she took her hand, "Two things have happenedto-day, which might have surprised me, if anything ought to surprise mein such times:--the first is, that yonder roundheaded fellow should havedared to use such insolence in the house of Peveril of the Peak. If yourhusband is yet the same honest and downright Cavalier whom I once knew,and had chanced to be at home, he would have thrown the knave out ofwindow. But what I wonder at still more, Margaret, is your generalship.I hardly thought you had courage sufficient to have taken such decidedmeasures, after keeping on terms with the man so long. When he spoke ofjustices and warrants, you looked so overawed that I thought I felt theclutch of the parish-beadles on my shoulder, to drag me to prison as avagrant."

  "We owe Master Bridgenorth some deference, my dearest lady," answeredthe Lady Peveril; "he has served us
often and kindly, in these latetimes; but neither he, nor any one else, shall insult the Countess ofDerby in the house of Margaret Stanley."

  "Thou art become a perfect heroine, Margaret," replied the Countess.

  "Two sieges, and alarms innumerable," said Lady Peveril, "may havetaught me presence of mind. My courage is, I believe, as slender asever."

  "Presence of mind _is_ courage," answered the Countess. "Real valourconsists not in being insensible to danger, but in being prompt toconfront and disarm it;--and we may have present occasion for allthat we possess," she added, with some slight emotion, "for I hear thetrampling of horses' steps on the pavement of the court."

  In one moment, the boy Julian, breathless with joy, came flying into theroom, to say that papa was returned, with Lamington and Sam Brewer; andthat he was himself to ride Black Hastings to the stable. In the secondthe tramp of the honest Knight's heavy jack-boots was heard, as, in hishaste to see his lady, he ascended the staircase by two steps at atime. He burst into the room; his manly countenance and disordered dressshowing marks that he had been riding fast; and without looking to anyone else, caught his good lady in his arms, and kissed her a dozen oftimes.--Blushing, and with some difficulty, Lady Peveril extricatedherself from Sir Geoffrey's arms; and in a voice of bashful and gentlerebuke, bid him, for shame, observe who was in the room.

  "One," said the Countess, advancing to him, "who is right glad to seethat Sir Geoffrey Peveril, though turned courtier and favourite, stillvalues the treasure which she had some share in bestowing upon him. Youcannot have forgot the raising of the leaguer of Latham House!"

  "The noble Countess of Derby!" said Sir Geoffrey, doffing his plumed hatwith an air of deep deference, and kissing with much reverence the handwhich she held out to him; "I am as glad to see your ladyship in my poorhouse, as I would be to hear that they had found a vein of lead in theBrown Tor. I rode hard, in the hope of being your escort through thecountry. I feared you might have fallen into bad hands, hearing therewas a knave sent out with a warrant from the Council."

  "When heard you so? and from whom?"

  "It was from Cholmondley of Vale Royal," said Sir Geoffrey; "he is comedown to make provision for your safety through Cheshire; and I promisedto bring you there in safety. Prince Rupert, Ormond, and other friends,do not doubt the matter will be driven to a fine; but they saythe Chancellor, and Harry Bennet, and some others of the over-seacounsellors, are furious at what they call a breach of the King'sproclamation. Hang them, say I!--They left us to bear all the beating;and now they are incensed that we should wish to clear scores with thosewho rode us like nightmares!"

  "What did they talk of for my chastisement?" said the Countess.

  "I wot not," said Sir Geoffrey; "some friends, as I said, from our kindCheshire, and others, tried to bring it to a fine; but some, again,spoke of nothing but the Tower, and a long imprisonment."

  "I have suffered imprisonment long enough for King Charles's sake," saidthe Countess; "and have no mind to undergo it at his hand. Besides, ifI am removed from the personal superintendence of my son's dominions inMan, I know not what new usurpation may be attempted there. I must beobliged to you, cousin, to contrive that I may get in security to ValeRoyal, and from thence I know I shall be guarded safely to Liverpool."

  "You may rely on my guidance and protection, noble lady," answered herhost, "though you had come here at midnight, and with the rogue's headin your apron, like Judith in the Holy Apocrypha, which I joy to hearonce more read in churches."

  "Do the gentry resort much to the Court?" said the lady.

  "Ay, madam," replied Sir Geoffrey; "and according to our saying, whenminers do begin to bore in these parts, it is _for the grace of God, andwhat they there may find_."

  "Meet the old Cavaliers with much countenance?" continued the Countess.

  "Faith, madam, to speak truth," replied the Knight, "the King hath sogracious a manner, that it makes every man's hopes blossom, though wehave seen but few that have ripened into fruit."

  "You have not, yourself, my cousin," answered the Countess, "had roomto complain of ingratitude, I trust? Few have less deserved it at theKing's hand."

  Sir Geoffrey was unwilling, like most prudent persons, to own theexistence of expectations which had proved fallacious, yet had toolittle art in his character to conceal his disappointment entirely."Who, I, madam?" he said; "Alas! what should a poor country knightexpect from the King, besides the pleasure of seeing him in Whitehallonce more, and enjoying his own again? And his Majesty was very graciouswhen I was presented, and spoke to me of Worcester, and of my horse,Black Hastings--he had forgot his name, though--faith, and mine, too, Ibelieve, had not Prince Rupert whispered it to him. And I saw some oldfriends, such as his Grace of Ormond, Sir Marmaduke Langdale, Sir PhilipMusgrave, and so forth; and had a jolly rouse or two, to the tune of oldtimes."

  "I should have thought so many wounds received--so many dangersrisked--such considerable losses--merited something more than a fewsmooth words," said the Countess.

  "Nay, my lady, there were other friends of mine who had the samethought," answered Peveril. "Some were of opinion that the loss ofso many hundred acres of fair land was worth some reward of honourat least; and there were who thought my descent from William theConqueror--craving your ladyship's pardon for boasting it in yourpresence--would not have become a higher rank or title worse than thepedigree of some who have been promoted. But what said the witty Dukeof Buckingham, forsooth? (whose grandsire was a Lei'stershireKnight--rather poorer, and scarcely so well-born as myself)--Why, hesaid, that if all of my degree who deserved well of the King in the latetimes were to be made peers, the House of Lords must meet upon SalisburyPlain!"

  "And that bad jest passed for a good argument!" said the Countess; "andwell it might, where good arguments pass for bad jests. But here comesone I must be acquainted with."

  This was little Julian, who now re-entered the hall, leading his littlesister, as if he had brought her to bear witness to the boastful talewhich he told his father, of his having manfully ridden Black Hastingsto the stable-yard, alone in the saddle; and that Saunders though hewalked by the horse's head, did not once put his hand upon the rein,and Brewer, though he stood beside him, scarce held him by the knee. Thefather kissed the boy heartily; and the Countess, calling him to herso soon as Sir Geoffrey had set him down, kissed his forehead also, andthen surveyed all his features with a keen and penetrating eye.

  "He is a true Peveril," said she, "mixed as he should be with some touchof the Stanley. Cousin, you must grant me my boon, and when I am safelyestablished, and have my present affair arranged, you must let me havethis little Julian of yours some time hence, to be nurtured in my house,held as my page, and the playfellow of the little Derby. I trust inHeaven, they will be such friends as their fathers have been, and mayGod send them more fortunate times!"

  "Marry, and I thank you for the proposal with all my heart, madam," saidthe Knight. "There are so many noble houses decayed, and so many morein which the exercise and discipline for the training of noble youths isgiven up and neglected, that I have often feared I must have kept Gilto be young master at home; and I have had too little nurture myself toteach him much, and so he would have been a mere hunting hawking knightof Derbyshire. But in your ladyship's household, and with the nobleyoung Earl, he will have all, and more than all, the education which Icould desire."

  "There shall be no distinction betwixt them, cousin," said the Countess;"Margaret Stanley's son shall be as much the object of care to me asmy own, since you are kindly disposed to entrust him to my charge.--Youlook pale, Margaret," she continued, "and the tear stands in your eye?Do not be so foolish, my love--what I ask is better than you can desirefor your boy; for the house of my father, the Duke de la Tremouille,was the most famous school of chivalry in France; nor have I degeneratedfrom him, or suffered any relaxation in that noble discipline whichtrained young gentlemen to do honour to their race. You can promise yourJulian no such advantages, if you tr
ain him up a mere home-bred youth."

  "I acknowledge the importance of the favour, madam," said Lady Peveril,"and must acquiesce in what your ladyship honours us by proposing, andSir Geoffrey approves of; but Julian is an only child, and----"

  "An only son," said the Countess, "but surely not an only child. You paytoo high deference to our masters, the male sex, if you allow Julian toengross all your affection, and spare none for this beautiful girl."

  So saying, she set down Julian, and, taking Alice Bridgenorth on herlap, began to caress her; and there was, notwithstanding her masculinecharacter, something so sweet in the tone of her voice and in the castof her features, that the child immediately smiled, and replied to hermarks of fondness. This mistake embarrassed Lady Peveril exceedingly.Knowing the blunt impetuosity of her husband's character, his devotionto the memory of the deceased Earl of Derby, and his correspondingveneration for his widow, she was alarmed for the consequences of hishearing the conduct of Bridgenorth that morning, and was particularlydesirous that he should not learn it save from herself in private,and after due preparation. But the Countess's error led to a moreprecipitate disclosure.

  "That pretty girl, madam," answered Sir Geoffrey, "is none of ours--Iwish she were. She belongs to a neighbour hard by--a good man, and,to say truth, a good neighbour--though he was carried off from hisallegiance in the late times by a d--d Presbyterian scoundrel, whocalls himself a parson, and whom I hope to fetch down from his perchpresently, with a wannion to him! He has been cock of the roost longenough.--There are rods in pickle to switch the Geneva cloak with, I cantell the sour-faced rogues that much. But this child is the daughter ofBridgenorth--neighbour Bridgenorth, of Moultrassie Hall."

  "Bridgenorth?" said the Countess; "I thought I had known all thehonourable names in Derbyshire--I remember nothing of Bridgenorth.--Butstay--was there not a sequestrator and committeeman of that name? Sure,it cannot be he?"

  Peveril took some shame to himself, as he replied, "It is the very manwhom your ladyship means, and you may conceive the reluctance with whichI submitted to receive good offices from one of his kidney; but had Inot done so, I should have scarce known how to find a roof to cover DameMargaret's head."

  The Countess, as he spoke, raised the child gently from her lap, andplaced it upon the carpet, though little Alice showed a disinclinationto the change of place, which the lady of Derby and Man would certainlyhave indulged in a child of patrician descent and loyal parentage.

  "I blame you not," she said; "no one knows what temptation will bring usdown to. Yet I _did_ think Peveril of the Peak would have resided in itsdeepest cavern, sooner than owed an obligation to a regicide."

  "Nay, madam," answered the Knight, "my neighbour is bad enough, butnot so bad as you would make him; he is but a Presbyterian--that I mustconfess--but not an Independent."

  "A variety of the same monster," said the Countess, "who hallooed whilethe others hunted, and bound the victim whom the Independents massacred.Betwixt such sects I prefer the Independents. They are at least bold,bare-faced, merciless villains, have more of the tiger in them, and lessof the crocodile. I have no doubt it was that worthy gentleman who tookit upon him this morning----"

  She stopped short, for she saw Lady Peveril was vexed and embarrassed.

  "I am," she said, "the most luckless of beings. I have said something,I know not what, to distress you, Margaret--Mystery is a bad thing, andbetwixt us there should be none."

  "There is none, madam," said Lady Peveril, something impatiently; "Iwaited but an opportunity to tell my husband what had happened--SirGeoffrey, Master Bridgenorth was unfortunately here when the Lady Derbyand I met; and he thought it part of his duty to speak of----"

  "To speak of what?" said the Knight, bending his brows. "You wereever something too fond, dame, of giving way to the usurpation of suchpeople."

  "I only mean," said Lady Peveril, "that as the person--he to whomLord Derby's story related--was the brother of his late lady, hethreatened--but I cannot think that he was serious."

  "Threaten?--threaten the Lady of Derby and Man in my house!--the widowof my friend--the noble Charlotte of Latham House!--by Heaven, theprick-eared slave shall answer it! How comes it that my knaves threw himnot out of the window?"

  "Alas! Sir Geoffrey, you forget how much we owe him," said the lady.

  "Owe him!" said the Knight, still more indignant; for in his singlenessof apprehension he conceived that his wife alluded to pecuniaryobligations,--"if I do owe him some money, hath he not security for it?and must he have the right, over and above, to domineer and play themagistrate in Martindale Castle?--Where is he?--what have you made ofhim? I will--I must speak with him."

  "Be patient, Sir Geoffrey," said the Countess, who now discerned thecause of her kinswoman's apprehension; "and be assured I did not needyour chivalry to defend me against this discourteous faitour, as _Morted'Arthur_ would have called him. I promise you my kinswoman hath fullyrighted my wrong; and I am so pleased to owe my deliverance entirely toher gallantry, that I charge and command you, as a true knight, not tomingle in the adventure of another."

  Lady Peveril, who knew her husband's blunt and impatient temper, andperceived that he was becoming angry, now took up the story, and plainlyand simply pointed out the cause of Master Bridgenorth's interference.

  "I am sorry for it," said the Knight; "I thought he had more sense;and that this happy change might have done some good upon him. But youshould have told me this instantly--It consists not with my honour thathe should be kept prisoner in this house, as if I feared anything hecould do to annoy the noble Countess, while she is under my roof, orwithin twenty miles of this Castle."

  So saying, and bowing to the Countess, he went straight to the gildedchamber, leaving Lady Peveril in great anxiety for the event of an angrymeeting between a temper hasty as that of her husband, and stubborn likethat of Bridgenorth. Her apprehensions were, however, unnecessary; forthe meeting was not fated to take place.

  When Sir Geoffrey Peveril, having dismissed Whitaker and his sentinels,entered the gilded chamber, in which he expected to find his captive,the prisoner had escaped, and it was easy to see in what manner. Thesliding panel had, in the hurry of the moment, escaped the memory ofLady Peveril, and of Whitaker, the only persons who knew anything of it.It was probable that a chink had remained open, sufficient to indicateits existence to Bridgenorth; who withdrawing it altogether, had foundhis way into the secret apartment with which it communicated, and fromthence to the postern of the Castle by another secret passage, which hadbeen formed in the thickness of the wall, as is not uncommon in ancientmansions; the lords of which were liable to so many mutations offortune, that they usually contrived to secure some lurking place andsecret mode of retreat from their fortresses. That Bridgenorth haddiscovered and availed himself of this secret mode of retreat wasevident; because the private doors communicating with the postern andthe sliding panel in the gilded chamber were both left open.

  Sir Geoffrey returned to the ladies with looks of perplexity. While hedeemed Bridgenorth within his reach, he was apprehensive of nothing hecould do; for he felt himself his superior in personal strength, and inthat species of courage which induces a man to rush, without hesitation,upon personal danger. But when at a distance, he had been for many yearsaccustomed to consider Bridgenorth's power and influence as somethingformidable; and notwithstanding the late change of affairs, his ideasso naturally reverted to his neighbour as a powerful friend or dangerousenemy, that he felt more apprehension on the Countess's score, than hewas willing to acknowledge even to himself. The Countess observed hisdowncast and anxious brow, and requested to know if her stay there waslikely to involve him in any trouble, or in any danger.

  "The trouble should be welcome," said Sir Geoffrey, "and more welcomethe danger, which should come on such an account. My plan was, that yourladyship should have honoured Martindale with a few days' residence,which might have been kept private until the search after you wasended. Had I seen this fellow Brid
genorth, I have no doubt I could havecompelled him to act discreetly; but he is now at liberty, and will keepout of my reach; and, what is worse, he has the secret of the priest'schamber."

  Here the Knight paused, and seemed much embarrassed.

  "You can, then, neither conceal nor protect me?" said the Countess.

  "Pardon, my honoured lady," answered the Knight, "and let me say outmy say. The plain truth is, that this man hath many friends among thePresbyterians here, who are more numerous than I would wish them; andif he falls in with the pursuivant fellow who carries the warrant of thePrivy Council, it is likely he will back him with force sufficientto try to execute it. And I doubt whether any of our friends can besummoned together in haste, sufficient to resist such a power as theyare like to bring together."

  "Nor would I wish any friends to take arms, in my name, against theKing's warrant, Sir Geoffrey," said the Countess.

  "Nay, for that matter," replied the Knight, "an his Majesty will grantwarrants against his best friends, he must look to have them resisted.But the best I can think of in this emergence is--though the proposalbe something inhospitable--that your ladyship should take presently tohorse, if your fatigue will permit. I will mount also, with some briskfellows, who will lodge you safe at Vale Royal, though the Sheriffstopped the way with a whole _posse comitatus_."

  The Countess of Derby willingly acquiesced in this proposal. Shehad enjoyed a night's sound repose in the private chamber, to whichEllesmere had guided her on the preceding evening, and was quite readyto resume her route, or flight--"she scarce knew," she said, "which ofthe two she should term it."

  Lady Peveril wept at the necessity which seemed to hurry her earliestfriend and protectress from under her roof, at the instant whenthe clouds of adversity were gathering around her; but she saw noalternative equally safe. Nay, however strong her attachment to LadyDerby, she could not but be more readily reconciled to her hastydeparture, when she considered the inconvenience, and even danger,in which her presence, at such a time, and in such circumstances, waslikely to involve a man so bold and hot-tempered as her husband SirGeoffrey.

  While Lady Peveril, therefore, made every arrangement which timepermitted and circumstances required, for the Countess prosecuting herjourney, her husband, whose spirits always rose with the prospectof action, issued his orders to Whitaker to get together a few stoutfellows, with back and breast pieces, and steel-caps. "There are the twolackeys, and Outram and Saunders, besides the other groom fellow, andRoger Raine, and his son; but bid Roger not come drunk again;--thyself,young Dick of the Dale and his servant, and a file or two of thetenants,--we shall be enough for any force they can make. All these arefellows that will strike hard, and ask no question why--their handsare ever readier than their tongues, and their mouths are more made fordrinking than speaking."

  Whitaker, apprised of the necessity of the case, asked if he should notwarn Sir Jasper Cranbourne.

  "Not a word to him, as you live," said the Knight; "this may be anoutlawry, as they call it, for what I know; and therefore I will bringno lands or tenements into peril, saving mine own. Sir Jasper hath hada troublesome time of it for many a year. By my will, he shall sit quietfor the rest of's days."