CHAPTER XIII
A SPOILED CHILD
Julia was right in fancying that she saw Lady Dunborough's face at oneof the windows in the south-east corner of the house. Those windowscommanded both the Marlborough High Street and the Salisbury road,welcomed alike the London and the Salisbury coach, overlooked theloungers at the entrance to the town, and supervised most details of theincoming and outgoing worlds. Lady Dunborough had not been up and abouthalf-an-hour before she remarked these advantages. In an hour herladyship was installed in that suite, which, though in the east wing,was commonly reckoned to be one of the best in the house. Heaven knowshow she did it. There is a pertinacity, shameless and violent, whichgains its ends, be the crowd between never so dense. It is possible thatMr. Smith would have ousted her had he dared. It is possible he had topay forfeit to the rightful tenants, and in private cursed her for anold jade and a brimstone. But when a viscountess sits herself down inthe middle of a room and declines to budge, she cannot with decency betaken up like a sack of hops and dumped in the passage.
Her ladyship, therefore, won, and had the pleasure of viewing from thecoveted window the scene between Julia and Sir George; a scene whichgave her the profoundest satisfaction. What she could not see--her eyeswere no longer all that they had been--she imagined. In five minutesshe had torn up the last rag of the girl's character, and proved her asbad as the worst woman that ever rode down Cheapside in a cart. LadyDunborough was not mealy-mouthed, nor one of those who mince matters.
'What did I tell you?' she cried. 'She will be on with that stuck-upbefore night, and be gone with morning. If Dunborough comes back he maywhistle for her!'
Mr. Thomasson did not doubt that her ladyship was right. But he spokewith indifferent spirit. He had had a bad night, had lain anywhere, anddressed nowhere, and was chilly and unkempt. Apart from the awe in whichhe stood of her ladyship, he would have returned to Oxford by the firstcoach that morning.
'Dear me!' Lady Dunborough announced presently. 'I declare he is leavingher! Lord, how the slut ogles him! She is a shameless baggage if everthere was one; and ruddled to the eyes, as I can see from here. I hopethe white may kill her! Well, I'll be bound it won't be long before heis to her again! My fine gentleman is like the rest of them--a damnedimpudent fellow!'
Mr. Thomasson turned up his eyes. 'There was something a littleodd--does not your lady think so?'--he ventured to say, 'in her takingpossession of Sir George's rooms as she did.'
'Did I not say so? Did I not say that very thing?'
'It seems to prove an understanding between them before they met herelast night.'
'I'll take my oath on it!' her ladyship cried with energy. Then in atone of exultation she continued, 'Ah! here he is again, as I thought!And come round by the street to mask the matter! He has down beside heragain. Oh, he is limed, he is limed!' my lady continued, as she searchedfor her spying-glass, that she might miss no wit of the love-making.
The tutor was all complacence. 'It proves that your ladyship'sstratagem,' he said, 'was to the point last night.'
'Oh, Dunborough will live to thank me for that!' she answered.'Gadzooks, he will! It is first come first served with these madams.This will open his eyes if anything will.'
'Still--it is to be hoped she will leave before he returns,' Mr.Thomasson said, with a slight shiver of anticipation. He knew Mr.Dunborough's temper.
'Maybe,' my lady answered. 'But even if she does not--' There she brokeof, and stood peering through the window. And suddenly, 'Lord's sake!'she shrieked, 'what is this?'
The fury of her tone, no less than the expletive--which we have venturedto soften--startled Mr. Thomasson to his feet. Approaching the window intrepidation--for her ladyship's wrath was impartial, and as oftenalighted on the wrong head as the right--the tutor saw that she haddropped her quizzing-glass, and was striving with shaking hands--butwithout averting her eyes from the scene outside--to recover andreadjust it. Curious as well as alarmed, he drew up to her, and, lookingover her shoulder, discerned the seat and Julia; and, alas! seated onthe bench beside Julia, not Sir George Soane, as my lady's indifferentsight, prompted by her wishes, had persuaded her, but Mr. Dunborough!
The tutor gasped. 'Oh, dear!' he said, looking round, as if for a way ofretreat. 'This is--this is most unfortunate.'
My lady in her wrath did not heed him. Shaking her fist at herunconscious son, 'You rascal!' she cried. 'You paltry, impudent fellow!You would do it before my eyes, would you? Oh, I would like to have thebrooming of you! And that minx! Go down you,' she continued, turningfiercely on the trembling, wretched Thomasson--'go down this instant,sir, and--and interrupt them! Don't stand gaping there, but down tothem, booby, without the loss of a moment! And bring him up before theword is said. Bring him up, do you hear?'
'Bring him up?' said Mr. Thomasson, his breath coming quickly. 'I?'
'Yes, you! Who else?'
'I--I--but, my dear lady, he is--he can be very violent,' the unhappytutor faltered, his teeth chattering, and his cheek flabby with fright.'I have known him--and perhaps it would be better, considering my sacredoffice, to--to--'
'To what, craven?' her ladyship cried furiously.
'To leave him awhile--I mean to leave him and presently--'
Lady Dunborough's comment was a swinging blow, which the tutor hardlyavoided by springing back. Unfortunately this placed her ladyshipbetween him and the door; and it is not likely that he would haveescaped her cane a second time, if his wits, and a slice of goodfortune, had not come to his assistance. In the midst of his palpitating'There, there, my lady! My dear good lady!' his tune changed on a suddento 'See; they are parting! They are parting already. And--and I think--Ireally think--indeed, my lady, I am sure that she has refused him! Shehas not accepted him?'
'Refused him!' Lady Dunborough ejaculated in scorn. Nevertheless shelowered the cane and, raising her glass, addressed herself to thewindow. 'Not accepted him? Bosh, man!'
'But if Sir George had proposed to her before?' the tutor suggested.'There--oh, he is coming in! He has--he has seen us.'
It was too true. Mr. Dunborough, approaching the door with a loweringface, had looked up as if to see what witnesses there were to hisdiscomfiture. His eyes met his mother's. She shook her fist at him. 'Ay,he has,' she said, her tone more moderate. 'And, Lord, it must be as yousay! He is in a fine temper, if I am any judge.'
'I think,' said Mr. Thomasson, looking round, 'I had better--betterleave--your ladyship to see him alone.'
'No,' said my lady firmly.
'But--but Mr. Dunborough,' the tutor pleaded, 'may like to see youalone. Yes, I am sure I had better go.'
'No,' said my lady more decisively; and she laid her hand on the haplesstutor's arm.
'But--but if your ladyship is afraid of--of his violence,' Mr. Thomassonstuttered, 'it will be better, surely, for me to call some--some of theservants.'
'Afraid?' Lady Dunborough cried, supremely contemptuous. 'Do you think Iam afraid of my own son? And such a son! A poor puppet,' she continued,purposely raising her voice as a step sounded outside, and Mr.Dunborough, flinging open the door, appeared like an angry Jove on thethreshold, 'who is fooled by every ruddled woman he meets! Ay, sir, Imean you! You! Oh, I am not to be browbeaten, Dunborough!' she went on;'and I will trouble you not to kick my furniture, you unmannerly puppy.And out or in's no matter, but shut the door after you.'
Mr. Dunborough was understood to curse everybody; after which he fellinto the chair that stood next the door, and, sticking his hands intohis breeches-pockets, glared at my lady, his face flushed and sombre.
'Hoity-toity! are these manners?' said she. 'Do you see this reverendgentleman?'
'Ay, and G--d--him!' cried Mr. Dunborough, with a very strongexpletive; 'but I'll make him smart for it by-and-by. You have ruined meamong you.'
'Saved you, you mean,' said Lady Dunborough with complacency, 'if youare worth saving--which, mind you, I very much doubt, Dunborough.'
'If I had seen her last night,' he
answered, drawing a long breath, 'itwould have been different. For that I have to thank you two. You sent meto lie at Bath and thought you had got rid of me. But I am back, andI'll remember it, my lady! I'll remember you too, you lying sneak!'
'You common, low fellow!' said my lady.
'Ay, talk away!' said he; and then no more, but stared at the floorbefore him, his jaw set, and his brow as black as a thunder-cloud. Hewas a powerful man, and, with that face, a dangerous man. For he washonestly in love; the love was coarse, brutal, headlong, a passion tocurse the woman who accepted it; but it was not the less love for that.On the contrary, it was such a fever as fills the veins with fire anddrives a man to desperate things; as was proved by his next words.
'You have ruined me among you,' he said, his tone dull and thick, likethat of a man in drink. 'If I had seen her last night, there is noknowing but what she would have had me. She would have jumped at it. Youtell me why not! But she is different this morning. There is a change inher. Gad, my lady,' with a bitter laugh, 'she is as good a lady as you,and better! And I'd have used her gently. Now I shall carry her off. Andif she crosses me I will wring her handsome neck!'
It is noticeable that he did not adduce any reason why the night hadchanged her. Only he had got it firmly into his head that, but for thedelay they had caused, all would be well. Nothing could move himfrom this.
'Now I shall run away with her,' he repeated.
'She won't go with you,' my lady cried with scorn.
'I sha'n't ask her,' he answered. 'When there is no choice she will cometo it. I tell you I shall carry her off. And if I am taken and hangedfor it, I'll be hanged at Papworth--before your window.'
'You poor simpleton!' she said. 'Go home to your father.'
'All right, my lady,' he answered, without lifting his eyes from thecarpet. 'Now you know. It will be your doing. I shall force her off, andif I am taken and hanged I will be hanged at Papworth. You took finepains last night, but I'll take pains to-day. If I don't have her Ishall never have a wife. But I will have her.'
'Fools cry for the moon,' said my lady. 'Any way, get out of my room.You are a fine talker, but I warrant you will take care of your neck.'
'I shall carry her off and marry her,' he repeated, his chin sunk on hisbreast, his hand rattling the money in his pocket.
'It is a distance to Gretna,' she answered. 'You'll be nearer it outsidemy door, my lad. So be stepping, will you? And if you take my advice,you will go to my lord.'
'All right; you know,' he said sullenly. 'For that sneak there, if hecomes in my way, I'll break every bone in his body. Good-day, my lady.When I see you again I will have Miss with me.'
'Like enough; but not Madam,' she retorted. 'You are not such a fool asthat comes to. And there is the Act besides!'
That was her parting shot; for all the feeling she had shown, from theopening to the close of the interview, she might have been his worstenemy. Yet after a fashion, and as a part of herself, she did love him;which was proved by her first words after the door had closed upon him.
'Lord!' she said uneasily. 'I hope he will play no Ferrers tricks, anddisgrace us all. He is a black desperate fellow, is Dunborough, when heis roused.'
The crestfallen tutor could not in a moment recover himself; but hemanaged to say that he did not think Mr. Dunborough suspected SirGeorge; and that even if he did, the men had fought once, in which casethere was less risk of a second encounter.
'You don't know him,' my lady answered, 'if you say that. But it is notthat I mean. He'll do some wild thing about carrying her off. From a boyhe would have his toy. I've whipped him till the blood ran, and he'sgone to it.'
'But without her consent,' said Mr. Thomasson, 'it would not bepossible.'
'I mistrust him,' the viscountess answered. 'So do you go and find thisbaggage, and drop a word to her--to go in company you understand. Lord!he might marry her that way yet. For once away she would have to marryhim--ay, and he to marry her to save his neck. And fine fools weshould look.'
'It's--it's a most surprising, wonderful thing she did not take him,'said the tutor thoughtfully.
'It's God's mercy and her madness,' quoth the viscountess piously. 'Shemay yet. And I would rather give you a bit of a living to marry her--ay,I would, Thomasson--than be saddled with such a besom!'
Mr. Thomasson cast a sickly glance at her ladyship. The evening before,when the danger seemed imminent, she had named two thousand pounds and aliving. Tonight, the living. To-morrow--what? For the living had beenpromised all along and in any case. Whereas now, a remote and impossiblecontingency was attached to it. Alas! the tutor saw very clearly that mylady's promises were pie-crust, made to be broken.
She caught the look, but attributed it to another cause. 'What do youfear, man?' she said. 'Sho! he is out of the house by this time.'
Mr. Thomasson would not have ventured far on that assurance, but he hadhimself seen Mr. Dunborough leave the house and pass to the stables; andanxious to escape for a time from his terrible patroness, he professedhimself ready. Knowing where the rooms, which the girl's party occupied,lay, in the west wing, he did not call a servant, but went through thehouse to them and knocked at the door.
He got no answer, so gently opened the door and peeped in. He discovereda pleasant airy apartment, looking by two windows over a little grassplot that flanked the house on that side, and lay under the shadow ofthe great Druid mound. The room showed signs of occupancy--a lady'scloak cast over a chair, a great litter of papers on the table. But forthe moment it was empty.
He was drawing back, satisfied with his survey, when he caught the soundof a heavy tread in the corridor behind him. He turned; to his horror hediscerned Mr. Dunborough striding towards him, a whip in one hand, andin the other a note; probably the note was for this very room. At thesame moment Mr. Dunborough caught sight of the tutor, and bore down onhim with a view halloa. Mr. Thomasson's hair rose, his knees shook underhim, he all but sank down where he was. Fortunately at the last momenthis better angel came to his assistance. His hand was still on the latchof the door; to open it, to dart inside, and to shoot the bolt were thework of a second. Trembling he heard Mr. Dunborough come up and slashthe door with his whip, and then, contented with this demonstration,pass on, after shouting through the panels that the tutor need notflatter himself--he would catch him by-and-by.
Mr. Thomasson devoutly hoped he would not; and, sweating at every pore,sat down to recover himself. Though all was quiet, he suspected theenemy of lying in wait; and rather than run into his arms was preparedto stay where he was, at any risk of discovery by the occupants. Orthere might be another exit. Going to one of the windows to ascertainthis, he found that there was; an outside staircase of stone affordingegress to the grass plot. He might go that way; but no!--at the base ofthe Druid mound he perceived a group of townsfolk and rustics staring atthe flank of the building--staring apparently at him. He recoiled; thenhe remembered that Lord Chatham's rooms lay in that wing, and alsolooked over the gardens. Doubtless the countryfolk were watching in thehope that the great man would show himself at a window, or that, at theworst, they might see the crumbs shaken from a tablecloth he had used.
This alone would have deterred the tutor from a retreat so public:besides, he saw something which placed him at his ease. Beyond the groupof watchers he espied three people strolling at their leisure, theirbacks towards him. His sight was better than Lady Dunborough's; and hehad no difficulty in making out the three to be Julia, her mother, andthe attorney. They were moving towards the Bath road. Freed from thefear of interruption, he heaved a sigh of relief, and, choosing the mostcomfortable chair, sat down on it.
It chanced to stand by the table, and on the table, as has been said,lay a vast litter of papers. Mr. Thomasson's elbow rested on one. Hewent to move it; in the act he read the heading: 'This is the last willand testament of me Sir Anthony Cornelius Soane, baronet, of EstcombeHall, in the county of Wilts.'
'Tut-tut!' said the tutor. 'That is not Soane's will,
that is hisgrandfather's.' And between idleness and curiosity, not unmingled withsurprise, he read the will to the end. Beside it lay three or fournarrow slips; he examined these, and found them to be extracts from aregister. Apparently some one was trying to claim under the will; butMr. Thomasson did not follow the steps or analyse the pedigree--his mindwas engrossed by perplexity on another point. His thoughts might havebeen summed up in the lines--
'Not that the things themselves are rich or rare, The wonder's how the devil they got there'--
in a word, how came the papers to be in that room? 'These must beSoane's rooms,' he muttered at last, looking about him. 'And yet--that'sa woman's cloak. And that old cowskin bag is not Sir George's. It isodd. Ah! What is this?'
This was a paper, written and folded brief-wise, and indorsed:'Statement of the Claimant's case for the worshipful consideration ofthe Eight Honourable the Earl of Chatham and others the trustees of theEstcombe Hall Estate. Without Prejudice.'
'So!' said the tutor. 'This may be intelligible.' And having assuredhimself by a furtive glance through the window that the owners of theroom were not returning, he settled himself to peruse it. When he againlooked up, which was at a point about one-third of the way through thedocument, his face wore a look of rapt, incredulous, fatuousastonishment.