CHAPTER XV
THE CARD ROOM
When Molly's chair was carried away, Lord Fylingdale returned to theassembly. The music had begun another moving and merry tune--thatcalled "Richmond Ball"--the couples were taking their places, theyoung fellows dancing already as they stood waiting, with hands andfeet and even shoulders all together, their partners laughing at them,and, with hands upon their frocks, pretending to set in the joy andthe merriment of their hearts. And I believe that the withdrawal ofMolly made them all much happier.
Two or three of the ladies standing apart were discussing the publicrebuke just administered. They were angry, being ladies who conceitedthemselves on the score of manners, and were proud of their families.
"Not the whole House of Lords," said one, loud enough for his lordshipto hear, "shall make me give my hand to a sailor's wench. Let herstick to her tar and her pitch. A pretty thing, indeed!"
"I hope," said another, agitating her fan violently, "that hislordship does not put the ladies of Norfolk on the same level as thegirls of King's Lynn."
"Dear madam," said a third, "Lord Fylingdale called her anheiress--the heiress of Lynn. An heiress does not carry all herfortune on her back. Do you not think--some of us have sons--that wemight, perhaps, receive this person with kindness?"
"No, madam. I will not be on any terms with this creature. In myfamily we consort with none but gentlefolk."
"Indeed, madam! But a hundred years ago your family, if I mistake not,were ploughing and ditching on the farms of my family."
Molly seemed like to prove a firebrand indeed. Lord Fylingdale,however, passed through them without any sign of hearing a word. Helooked round; he observed that the next dance had begun, and thatevery lady was touching the hands of those who were not of her ownexalted family. So that his admonition was bearing fruit. He then leftthe long room and went into the card room. Here he found the LadyAnastasia sitting at a table, surrounded by a little crowd of players.She held the bank. In the excitement of the play her eyes sparkled;her bosom heaved; her colour went and came visibly beneath the painton her cheeks; her lips became pale and then returned to their propercolour; she rapped the table with her fingers. She was enjoying, infact, the rapture which fills the heart of the gambler and makes playthe only thing desirable in life. Perhaps the preacher could imagineno greater misery for the gamester than a heaven in which there wereno cards.
The game which the Lady Anastasia introduced to these countrygentlemen and the company generally was one called hazard, which is, Ibelieve, commonly played by gamesters of fashion. Indeed, as wasafterwards learned, this very lady had been by name presented by thegrand jury of Middlesex for keeping a bank at the game of hazard onSundays against all comers. At Lynn she kept the bank every eveningexcept Sunday. It is a game which, more than any other, is said tolure on the player, so that a man who, out of simple curiosity, sets aguinea and calls a main, finds himself, after a few evenings ofalternating fortune, winning and losing in turn, so much attracted bythe game that he is only happy when he is playing. I know not how manygamblers for life were made during the short time when this lady heldthe bank. Wonderful to relate, no one seemed to consider that she wasdoing anything wrong. She was seen at morning prayers every day; shedrank the waters of the spa; she walked in the gardens, taking tea andtalking scandal with the greatest affability; and in the evenings,when she kept the bank, it was with a face so full of smiles, with somuch appearance of rejoicing when a player won, and so much kindnessand sympathy when a player lost, that no one asked whether she herselfwon or lost.
For my own part, I do not understand how the bank can be held withoutgreat risks and losses. But I have been assured, by one who knows,that the chances are greatly in favour of the bank, and that thislady, so highly placed, and of such charming manners, was simplyplaying to win, and did win very largely, if not every evening, thenin the course of a week or a month.
"We are all friends here," she said, taking her place and dividing thepile of money, which constituted her bank, into two heaps, right andleft. At her right hand stood a man of cold and harsh appearance, whotook no interest in the game, but, like a machine, cried the main andthe chance, and gave or took the odds, and, with a rake, either sweptthe stakes into the bank when the player lost, or pushed out theamount won by the player to his seat. They called him the _croupier_,which is, I believe, a French word. He came from London.
"Since we are all friends here," Lady Anastasia went on, "we need notobserve the precautions that are necessary in London, where playershave been known to withdraw part of their stakes when they have lost,and to add more when they have won."
Among the players seated at the table--there were many othersstanding, who ventured a guinea or so, and, having won or lost, wentaway--was the ancient youth of fashion, Sir Harry, who had nowexchanged the dance for the card room. There was also the gentleman ofloud voice and boisterous manners, called Colonel Lanyon.
Sir Harry was the first to call for the dice box, and the dice.
"Seven's the main," he cried, laying as many guineas on the table. Hethen rattled the dice and threw. "Five!" he cried.
"Five!" repeated the croupier. "Seven's the main, five is the chance."
The rule of the game is that the player throws again and continues tothrow. If he throws seven first, he loses; if he throws five first, hewins. But there are introduced certain other rules, so that the gameis not so easy and simple as it seems. Some throws are called "nicks,"and some are called "crabs." If a nick is thrown, the caster pays tothe bank one main. If crabs, the dice box goes to another player. Butany bystander may bet on the odds. I know not myself what the oddsare, but the regular player knows, and the croupier calls them; insome cases the bystanders may not bet against the bank, but I do notknow these cases. I know only the simple rules, having seen it playedin the card room.
Lord Fylingdale looked on with an air of cold indifference. He saw, ifhe observed anything, that Colonel Lanyon and Sir Harry were playinghigh, but that the rest of the company were timidly venturing singleguineas at each cast. Some of them were women, and these were thefiercest and the most intent upon the game. Most of them were youngmen, those who commonly spent their days in all those kinds of sportwhich allow of bets and the winning and losing of money. We have heardof gaming tables in London at which whole fortunes are sometimes lostat a single sitting; of young men who sit down rich and rise uppoor--even destitute. The young men of Norfolk certainly do not gambleaway their estates in this blind fashion; but it must be owned thattheir chief pleasures are those on which they can place a wager, andthat the pastimes which do not allow of a bet are not regarded withfavour. For the ladies of the towns a game of quadrille or whist isthe amusement whenever two or three can be got together. It must,however, be confessed that the gentlemen are fonder of drinking awaytheir evenings than of playing cards. The games of ombre, hazard,basset, faro, and others in which large sums of money are staked, arecommonly played by the people of the town, not of the country.
Lord Fylingdale stood for a while looking over the table. Then hepulled out his purse--a long and well-filled purse--and laid downtwenty guineas, calling the main "Nine." He threw. "Nick," cried thecroupier in his hard, monotonous note. His lordship had lost. He tookout another handful of guineas and laid them on the table. Again helost. The players looked up, expectant. They wanted to see how a noblelord would receive this reverse of fortune. In their own case it wouldhave been met with curses on their luck, deep and loud and repeated.To their astonishment he showed no sign of interest in the event. Heonly put up his purse and resumed his attitude of looking on.
At eleven o'clock the music stopped; the dancing was over. Nothingremained but the punch with which some of the company concluded theevening. It was provided at the expense of the gentlemen.
The players began to recount their experiences. Fortune, which hadsmiled on a few, seemed to have frowned on most.
Then Lord Fylingdale offered another surprise.
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p; "Ladies," he said, "I venture to offer you the refreshment of a glassof punch. Gentlemen, may I hope that you will join the ladies in thisconclusion to the evening? I would willingly, if you will allow me,drink to your good luck at the card table. Let the county of Norfolkshow that Fortune which has favoured this part of the country sosignally in other respects has also been as generous in this. I am notmyself a Norfolk, but a Gloucestershire man. I come from the otherside of the country. Let me, however, in this gathering of all that ispolite and of good family in the county be regarded as no stranger,but a friend."
By this time the punch was brought in, two steaming great bowls. Thegentlemen ladled it out for the ladies and for themselves and allstood expectant.
"I give you a toast," said his lordship. "We are entertained by theancient and venerable borough of Lynn; we must show our gratitude toour entertainers. I am informed that these rooms, these gardens, themusic and the singers, together with the pump room, have all beendesigned, built, collected, and arranged for the company, namely,ourselves. Let us thank the good people of Lynn. And, since the townhas sent to our assembly to-night its loveliest flower, the youngheiress whom I shall call the Lady of Lynn, let us drink to her as therepresentative of her native place. Gentlemen, I offer you as a toast,'Sweet Molly, the Lady of Lynn!'"
The gentlemen drank it with enthusiasm, the ladies looked at eachother doubtfully. They had not come to Lynn expecting to hear thebeauty of a girl of the place, the town of sailors, ships, quays,cargoes, casks, cranes, and merchants, the town of winding streets andnarrow courts where the deserted houses were falling to pieces. Thecounty families went sometimes to Norwich, where there is very goodsociety; and sometimes to Bury, where there are assemblies in thewinter; but no ladies ever came to Lynn, where there were noassemblies, no card parties, and no society.
After this toast, the Lady Anastasia withdrew with the other ladies.Lord Fylingdale led her to her chair and then called for his own.
The gentlemen remained sitting over their punch and talking.
"Who," said one, "is this sweet Molly? Who is this great heiress? Whois the Lady of Lynn?"
"I never knew," said another, "that there was a lady in Lynn at all."
"You have been in the card room all the evening," said another. "Shedanced the last minuet. Where can she be hidden that no one has seenher before? Gentlemen, 'twas a vision of Venus herself, or the fairDiana, in a silk frock and a flounced petticoat, with pearls anddiamonds, and precious stones. An heiress? An heiress in Lynn?"
The poet, Sam Semple, who was present, pricked up his ears. The punchhad begun to loosen his tongue.
"Gentlemen," he said, "by your leave. You are all strangers at LynnRegis. Norwich you know, and Bury and Swaffham, and perhaps othertowns in the county. But, with submission, Lynn you do not know."
"Why, sir, as for not knowing Lynn, what can a body learn of the placethat is worth knowing?"
"You think that it is a poor place, with a few colliers and fishingsmacks, and a population of sailors and vintners." The poet tookanother glass of punch and drank it off to clear his head. "Well, sir,you are mistaken. From Lynn goes forth every year a noble fleet ofships. Whither do they go? To all the ports of Europe. From Lynn theygo out; to Lynn they return. To whom do these ships belong? Is a shipworth nothing? To whom do their cargoes belong? Is the cargo of a tallthree-master worth nothing? Now, gentlemen, if most of these shipsbelong to one girl; if they are freighted for one girl; if half thetrade of Lynn is in the hands of this girl's guardian; if for twentyyears the revenues from the trade have been rolling up--what is thatgirl but a great heiress?"
"Is that the case with--with sweet Molly?" asked a young fellow whohad been drinking before the punch appeared, and now spoke with athick voice. "Is she the heiress and the Lady of Lynn?"
"She is nothing less," Sam Semple replied. "As for her fortune, Ibelieve, if she wished it, she could buy up half this county."
"And she is unmarried.... Egad!" it was the same young fellow whospoke, "he will be a lucky man who gets her."
"A lucky man indeed," said Sam, "but she is above your reach, let metell you," he added, impudently, because the other was a gentleman.
"Above my reach? Take that," he threw the glass of punch in the poet'sface. "Above my reach? Mine? Who the devil is this fellow? The ownerof a ship, or a dozen ships, with their stinking cargoes and theircheating trade, above my reach? Why----" Here he would have fallenupon the offender, but was restrained by his friends.
Sam stood open-mouthed, looking about him dumfoundered, the punchstreaming over his cheeks.
"You'd best go, sir," said one of them. "I know not who you are. But,if you are a gentleman you can send your friend to-morrow. If not"--helaughed--"in our country if a gentleman falls out with one whom hecannot fight with swords, he is not too proud to meet him with stickor fist. In any case you had better go--and that without delay."
The poet turned and ran. No hostile meeting followed. Sam could notsend a challenge, being no gentleman, and, as you have already seen,he was not naturally inclined for the ordeal by battle in any otherform.
The young man was one Tom Rising, whose estates lay near Swaffham. Hewas well known as the best and most fearless rider in the wholecounty; he was the keenest sportsman; he knew where to find fox, hare,badger, ferret, stoat, or weasel; he knew where to put up a pheasantor a cover of partridges; he could play at all manly sports; he was awild, fearless, reckless, deboshed young fellow, whom everybody lovedand everybody feared; always ready with a blow or an oath; afraid ofnothing if he set his heart upon anything. You shall see presentlythat he set his heart upon one thing and that he failed. For the rest,a comely, tall, and proper young man of four-and-twenty or so, whosecareless dress, disordered necktie, and neglected head sufficientlyindicated his habits, even if his wanton rolling eyes, loose lip, andcheeks always flushed with wine, did not loudly proclaim the manner ofhis life and the train of his thoughts.
When Sam was gone he turned again to the bowl.
In the morning it was reported that there had been wagers, and that agreat deal of money had been won and lost. Some said that ColonelLanyon, one of the gentlemen from London, had lost a great sum; otherssaid that Tom Rising was the heaviest loser. I judge from what I nowknow that Tom Rising lost, that evening, more than his estates wouldbring him in a whole quarter. And I am further of opinion that ColonelLanyon did not lose anything except a piece of paper with some figureson it, which he handed, ostentatiously proclaiming the amount, whichwas very large, to his honourable friend, Sir Harry Malyus, Baronet.