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THE CASTLE INN
BY
STANLEY J. WEYMAN
Author of "A Gentleman of France," "Under the Red Robe,""The House of the Wolf," etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
WALTER APPLETON CLARK
1898
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. A KNIGHT-ERRANT.CHAPTER II. A MISADVENTURE.CHAPTER III. TUTOR AND PUPILS--OLD STYLE.CHAPTER IV. PEEPING TOM OF WALLINGFORD.CHAPTER V. THE MEETING.CHAPTER VI. A FISH OUT OF WATER.CHAPTER VII. ACHILLES AND BRISEIS.CHAPTER VIII. THE OLD BATH ROAD.CHAPTER IX. ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON.CHAPTER X. MOTHER AND SON.CHAPTER XI. DR. ADDINGTON.CHAPTER XII. JULIA.CHAPTER XIII. A SPOILED CHILD.CHAPTER XIV. A GOOD MAN'S DILEMMA.CHAPTER XV. AMORIS INTEGRATIO.CHAPTER XVI. THE BLACK FAN.CHAPTER XVII. MR. FISHWICK, THE ARBITER.CHAPTER XVIII. THE PURSUIT.CHAPTER XIX. AN UNWILLING ALLY.CHAPTER XX. THE EMPTY POST-CHAISE.CHAPTER XXI. IN THE CARRIAGE.CHAPTER XXII. FACILIS DESCENSUS.CHAPTER XXIII. BULLY POMEROY.CHAPTER XXIV. CUTTING FOR THE QUEEN.CHAPTER XXV. LORD ALMERIC'S SUIT.CHAPTER XXVI. BOON COMPANIONS.CHAPTER XXVII. MR. FISHWICK'S DISCOVERY.CHAPTER XXVIII. A ROUGH AWAKENING.CHAPTER XXIX. MR. POMEROY'S PLAN.CHAPTER XXX. A GREEK GIFT.CHAPTER XXXI. THE INN AT CHIPPENHAM.CHAPTER XXXII. CHANCE MEDLEY.CHAPTER XXXIII. IN THE CARRIAGE.CHAPTER XXXIV. BAD NEWS.CHAPTER XXXV. DORMITAT HOMERUS.CHAPTER XXXVI. THE ATTORNEY SPEAKS.CHAPTER XXXVII. A HANDSOME ALLOWANCE.CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE CLERK OF THE LEASES.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE ANSWER WAS A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT AND A SHOT.'TOMMY, WHO IS--THIS--FELLOW?' HE CRIED.'YOUR LADYSHIP'S MOST HUMBLE SERVANT,' HE SAID.HE WOULD FALL SILENT IN JULIA'S COMPANY.'AND DRINK HER, YOU ENVIOUS BEGGARS! DRINK HER!'ON THE THRESHOLD, ... STOOD MR. DUNBOROUGH.
THE CASTLE INN
CHAPTER I
A KNIGHT-ERRANT
About a hundred and thirty years ago, when the third George, whom ourgrandfathers knew in his blind dotage, was a young and sturdybridegroom; when old Q., whom 1810 found peering from his balcony inPiccadilly, deaf, toothless, and a skeleton, was that gay and livelyspark, the Earl of March; when _bore_ and _boreish_ were words of _hautton_, unknown to the vulgar, and the price of a borough was 5,000_l_.;when gibbets still served for sign-posts, and railways were not andhighwaymen were--to be more exact, in the early spring of the year 1767,a travelling chariot-and-four drew up about five in the evening beforethe inn at Wheatley Bridge, a short stage from Oxford on the Oxfordroad. A gig and a couple of post-chaises, attended by the customarygroup of stablemen, topers, and gossips already stood before the house,but these were quickly deserted in favour of the more importantequipage. The drawers in their aprons trooped out, but the landlord,foreseeing a rich harvest, was first at the door of the carriage, andopened it with a bow such as is rarely seen in these days.
'Will your lordship please to alight?' he said.
'No, rascal!' cried one of those within. 'Shut the door!'
'You wish fresh horses, my lord?' the obsequious host replied. 'Ofcourse. They shall be--'
'We wish nothing,' was the brisk answer. 'D'ye hear? Shut the door, andgo to the devil!'
Puzzled, but obedient, the landlord fell back on the servants, who haddescended from their seat in front and were beating their hands one onanother, for the March evening was chill. 'What is up, gentlemen?'he said.
'Nothing. But we will put something down, by your leave,' they answered.
'Won't they do the same?' He cocked his thumb in the direction of thecarriage.
'No. You have such an infernal bad road, the dice roll,' was the answer.'They will finish their game in quiet. That is all. Lord, how your folksstare! Have they never seen a lord before?'
'Who is it?' the landlord asked eagerly. 'I thought I knew his Grace'sface.'
Before the servant could answer or satisfy his inquisitiveness, the doorof the carriage was opened in haste, and the landlord sprang to offerhis shoulder. A tall young man whose shaped riding-coat failed to hidethat which his jewelled hands and small French hat would alone havebetrayed--that he was dressed in the height of fashion--stepped down. Aroom and a bottle of your best claret,' he said. 'And bring me ink anda pen.'
'Immediately, my lord. This way, my lord. Your lordship will perhapshonour me by dining here?'
'Lord, no! Do you think I want to be poisoned?' was the frank answer.And looking about him with languid curiosity, the young peer, followedby a companion, lounged into the house.
The third traveller--for three there were--by a gesture directed theservant to close the carriage door, and, keeping his seat, gazedsleepily through the window. The loitering crowd, standing at arespectful distance, returned his glances with interest, until an emptypost-chaise, approaching from the direction of Oxford, rattled upnoisily and split the group asunder. As the steaming horses stoppedwithin a few paces of the chariot, the gentleman seated in the lattersaw one of the ostlers go up to the post-chaise and heard him say, 'Soonback, Jimmie?'
'Ay, and I ha' been stopped too,' the postboy answered as he dropped hisreins.
'No!' in a tone of surprise. 'Was it Black Jack?'
'Not he. 'Twas a woman!'
A murmur of astonishment greeted the answer. The postboy grinned, andsitting easily in his pad prepared to enjoy the situation. 'Ay, awoman!' he said. 'And a rare pair of eyes to that. What do you think shewanted, lads?'
'The stuff, of course.'
'Not she. Wanted one of them I took'--and he jerked his elbowcontemptuously in the direction whence he had come--'to fight a duel forher. One of they! Said, was he Mr. Berkeley, and would he risk his lifefor a woman.'
The head ostler stared. 'Lord! and who was it he was to fight?' he askedat last.
'She did not say. Her spark maybe, that has jilted her.'
'And would they, Jimmie?'
'They? Shoo! They were Methodists,' the postboy answered contemptuously,'Scratch wigs and snuff-colour. If she had not been next door to a Bessof Bedlam and in a main tantrum, she would have seen that. But "Are youMr. Berkeley?" she says, all on fire like. And "Will you fight for awoman?" And when they shrieked out, banged the door on them. But I tellyou she was a pretty piece as you'd wish to see. If she had asked me, Iwould not have said no to her.' And he grinned.
The gentleman in the chariot opened a window. 'Where did she stop you,my man?' he asked idly.
'Half a mile this side of Oxford, your worship,' the postboy answered,knuckling his forehead. 'Seemed to me, sir, she was a play actress. Shehad that sort of way with her.'
The gentleman nodded and closed the window. The night had so far set inthat they had brought out lights; as he sat back, one of these, hung inthe carriage, shone on his features and betrayed that he was smiling. Inthis mood his face lost the air of affected refinement--which was thenthe mode, and went perfectly with a wig and ruffles--and appeared in itstrue cast, plain and strong, yet not uncomely. His features lacked theinsipid regularity which, where all shaved, passed for masculine beauty;the nose ended largely, the cheek-bones were high, and the chinprojected. But from the risk and even the edge of ugliness it was savedby a pair of grey eyes, keen, humorous, and kindly, and a smile thatshowed the eyes at their best. Of late those eyes had been known toexpress weariness and satiety; the man was tiring of the round of costlyfollies and aimless amusements in which he passed his life. But attwenty-six pepper is still hot in the mouth, and Sir George Soanecontinued to drink, game, and fribble, though the first pungent flavourof those delights had vanished, and the things themselves began topall upon him.
When he had sat thus ten minutes, smiling at intervals, a stir about thedoor announced that his companions were returning. The landlord precededthem, and was rewarded for his pains with half a guinea; the crowd witha shower o
f small silver. The postillions cracked their whips, thehorses started forward, and amid a shrill hurrah my lord's carriagerolled away from the door.
'Now, who casts?' the peer cried briskly, arranging himself in hisseat. 'George, I'll set you. The old stakes?'
'No, I am done for to-night,' Sir George answered yawning withoutdisguise.
'What! crabbed, dear lad?'
'Ay, set Berkeley, my lord. He's a better match for you.'
'And be robbed by the first highwayman we meet? No, no! I told you, if Iwas to go down to this damp hole of mine--fancy living a hundred milesfrom White's! I should die if I could not game every day--you were toplay with me, and Berkeley was to ensure my purse.'
'He would as soon take it,' Sir George answered languidly, gazingthrough the glass.
'Sooner, by--!' cried the third traveller, a saturnine, dark-faced manof thirty-four or more, who sat with his back to the horses, and toyedwith a pistol that lay on the seat beside him. 'I'm content if yourlordship is.'
'Then have at you! Call the main, Colonel. You may be the devil amongthe highwaymen--that was Selwyn's joke, was it not?--but I'll see thecolour of your money.'
'Beware of him. He _doved_ March,' Sir George said indifferently.
'He won't strip me,' cried the young lord. 'Five is the main. Five tofour he throws crabs! Will you take, George?'
Soane did not answer, and the two, absorbed in the rattle of the diceand the turns of their beloved hazard, presently forgot him; hislordship being the deepest player in London and as fit a successor tothe luckless Lord Mountford as one drop of water to another. Thus leftto himself, and as effectually screened from remark as if he sat alone,Sir George devoted himself to an eager scrutiny of the night, lookingfirst through one window and then through the other; in which hepersevered though darkness had fallen so completely that only the hedgesshowed in the lamplight, gliding giddily by in endless walls of white.On a sudden he dropped the glass with an exclamation, and thrust outhis head.
'Pull up!' he cried. 'I want to descend.'
The young lord uttered a peevish exclamation. 'What is to do?' hecontinued, glancing round; then, instantly returning to the dice, 'if itis my purse they want, say Berkeley is here. That will scare them. Whatare you doing, George?'
'Wait a minute,' was the answer; and in a twinkling Soane was out, andwas ordering the servant, who had climbed down, to close the door. Thiseffected, he strode back along the road to a spot where a figure,cloaked, and hooded, was just visible, lurking on the fringe of thelamplight. As he approached it, he raised his hat with an exaggerationof politeness.
'Madam,' he said, 'you asked for me, I believe?'
The woman--for a woman it was, though he could see no more of her than apale face, staring set and Gorgon-like from under the hood--did notanswer at once. Then, 'Who are you?' she said.
'Colonel Berkeley,' he answered with assurance, and again saluted her.
'Who killed the highwayman at Hounslow last Christmas?' she cried.
'The same, madam.'
'And shot Farnham Joe at Roehampton?'
'Yes, madam. And much at your service.'
'We shall see,' she answered, her voice savagely dubious. 'At least youare a gentleman and can use a pistol? But are you willing to risksomething for justice' sake?'
'And the sake of your _beaux yeux_, madam?' he answered, a laugh in hisvoice. 'Yes.'
'You mean it?'
'Prove me,' he answered.
His tone was light; but the woman, who seemed to labour under strongemotion, either failed to notice this or was content to put up with it.'Then send on your carriage,' she said.
His jaw fell at that, and had there been light by which to see him hewould have looked foolish. At last, 'Are we to walk?' he said.
'Those are the lights of Oxford,' she answered. 'We shall be there inten minutes.'
'Oh, very well,' he said, 'A moment, if you please.'
She waited while he went to the carriage and told the astonishedservants to leave his baggage at the Mitre; this understood, he put inhis head and announced to his host that he would come on next day. 'Yourlordship must excuse me to-night,' he said.
'What is up?' my lord asked, without raising his eyes or turning hishead. He had taken the box and thrown nicks three times running, at fiveguineas the cast; and was in the seventh heaven. 'Ha! five is the main.Now you are in it, Colonel. What did you say, George? Not coming!What is it?'
'An adventure.'
'What! a petticoat?'
'Yes,' Sir George answered, smirking.
'Well, you find 'em in odd places. Take care of yourself. But shut thedoor, that is a good fellow. There is a d----d draught.'
Sir George complied, and, nodding to the servants, walked back to thewoman. As he reached her the carriage with its lights whirled away, andleft them in darkness.
Soane wondered if he were not a fool for his pains, and advanced a stepnearer to conviction when the woman with an impatient 'Come!' startedalong the road; moving at a smart pace in the direction which thechariot had taken, and betraying so little shyness or timidity as toseem unconscious of his company. The neighbourhood of Oxford is low andflat, and except where a few lights marked the outskirts of the city awall of darkness shut them in, permitting nothing to be seen that laymore than a few paces away. A grey drift of clouds, luminous incomparison with the gloom about them, moved slowly overhead, and out ofthe night the raving of a farm-dog or the creaking of a dry bough cameto the ear with melancholy effect.
The fine gentleman of that day had no taste for the wild, the rugged, orthe lonely. He lived too near the times when those words spelled danger.He found at Almack's his most romantic scene, at Ranelagh his _terraincognita_, in the gardens of Versailles his ideal of the charming andpicturesque. Sir George, no exception to the rule, shivered as he lookedround. He began to experience a revulsion of spirits; and to considerthat, for a gentleman who owned Lord Chatham for a patron, and was evennow on his roundabout way to join that minister--for a gentleman whosefortune, though crippled and impaired, was still tolerable, and who,where it had suffered, might look with confidence to see it made good atthe public expense--or to what end patrons or ministers?--he began toreflect, I say, that for such an one to exchange a peer's coach and goodcompany for a night trudge at a woman's heels was a folly, betterbefitting a boy at school than a man of his years. Not that he had everbeen so wild as to contemplate anything serious; or from the first hadentertained the most remote intention of brawling in an unknown cause.That was an extravagance beyond him; and he doubted if the girl reallyhad it in her mind. The only adventure he had proposed, when he leftthe carriage, was one of gallantry; it was the only adventure then invogue. And for that, now the time was come, and the _incognita_ and hewere as much alone as the most ardent lover could wish, he feltsingularly disinclined.
True, the outline of her cloak, and the indications of a slender,well-formed shape which it permitted to escape, satisfied him that thepostboy had not deceived him; but that his companion was both young andhandsome. And with this and his bargain it was to be supposed he wouldbe content. But the pure matter-of-factness of the girl's manner, hersilence, and her uncompromising attitude, as she walked by his side,cooled whatever ardour her beauty and the reflection that he hadjockeyed Berkeley were calculated to arouse; and it was with an effortthat he presently lessened the distance between them.
'Et vera incessu patuit dea!' he said, speaking in the tone between jestand earnest which he had used before. '"And all the goddess in her stepappears." Which means that you have the prettiest walk in the world, mydear--but whither are you taking me?'
She went steadily on, not deigning an answer.
'But--my charmer, let us parley,' he remonstrated, striving to maintaina light tone. 'In a minute we shall be in the town and--'
'I thought that we understood one another,' she answered curtly, stillcontinuing to walk, and to look straight before her; in which positionher hood, hid her face. 'I am taking
you where I want you.'
'Oh, very well,' he said, shrugging his shoulders. But under his breathhe muttered, 'By heaven, I believe that the pretty fool reallythinks--that I am going to fight for her!'
To a man who had supped at White's the night before, and knew his age tobe the _age des philosophes_, it seemed the wildest fancy in the world.And his distaste grew. But to break off and leave her--at any rate untilhe had put it beyond question that she had no underthought--to break offand leave her after placing himself in a situation so humiliating, wastoo much for the pride of a Macaroni. The lines of her head and figuretoo, half guessed and half revealed, and wholly light and graceful, hadcaught his fancy and created a desire to subjugate her. Reluctantly,therefore, he continued to walk beside her, over Magdalen Bridge, andthence by a path which, skirting the city, ran across the low woodedmeadows at the back of Merton.
A little to the right the squat tower of the college loomed against thelighter rack of clouds, and rising amid the dark lines of trees thatbeautify that part of the outskirts, formed a _coup d'oeil_ sufficientlyimpressive. Here and there, in such of the chamber windows as lookedover the meadows, lights twinkled cheerfully; emboldened by which, yetavoiding their scope, pairs of lovers of the commoner class sneaked toand fro under the trees. Whether the presence of these recalled earlymemories which Sir George's fastidiousness found unpalatable, or he felthis fashion, smirched by the vulgarity of this Venus-walk, hisimpatience grew; and was not far from bursting forth when his guideturned sharply into an alley behind the cathedral, and, after threadinga lane of mean houses, entered a small court.
The place, though poor and narrow, was not squalid. Sir George could seeso much by the light which shone from a window and fell on a group offive or six persons, who stood about the nearest door and talked in low,excited voices. He had a good view of one man's face, and read in itgloom and anger. Then the group made way for the girl, eyeing her, as hethought, with pity and a sort of deference; and cursing the folly thathad brought him into such a place and situation, wondering what onearth it all meant or in what it would end, he followed her intothe house.
She opened a door on the right-hand side of the narrow passage, and ledthe way into a long, low room. For a moment he saw no more than twolights on a distant table, and kneeling at a chair beside them a womanwith grey dishevelled hair, who seemed to be praying, her face hidden.Then his gaze, sinking instinctively, fell on a low bed between him andthe woman; and there rested on a white sheet, and on the solemnoutlines--so certain in their rigidity, so unmistakable by humaneyes--of a body laid out for burial.
The Castle Inn Page 1