CHAPTER III
THE EXILE
But despite outward indifference, with the brief appearance of thesoberly-garbed young student upon the scene and his abrupt and silentdeparture, all the zest seemed to have gone out of Lady Sue's mood.
The ingenuous flatteries of her little court irritated her now: she nolonger felt either amused or pleased by the extravagant complimentslavished upon her beauty and skill by portly Squire John, by Sir TimothyHarrison or the more diffident young Squire Pyncheon.
"Of a truth, I sometimes wish, Lady Sue, that I could find out if youhave any faults," remarked Squire Boatfield unctuously.
"Nay, Squire," she retorted sharply, "pray try to praise me to my femalefriends."
In vain did Mistress Pyncheon admonish her son to be more bold in hiswooing.
"You behave like a fool, Oliver," she said meekly.
"But, Mother ..."
"Go, make yourself pleasing to her ladyship."
"But, Mother ..."
"I pray you, my son," she retorted with unusual acerbity, "do you want amillion or do you not?"
"But, Mother ..."
"Then go at once and get it, ere that fool Sir Timothy or the odiousBoatfield capture it under your very nose."
"But, Mother ..."
"Go! say something smart to her at once ... talk about your gray mare... she is over fond of horses ..."
Then as the young Squire, awkward and clumsy in his manner, moreaccustomed to the company of his own servants than to that of highbornladies, made sundry unfortunate attempts to enchain the attention of theheiress, his worthy mother turned with meek benignity to Sir Marmaduke.
"A veritable infatuation, good Sir Marmaduke," she said with a sigh,"quite against my interests, you know. I had no thought to see the dearlad married so soon, nor to give up my home at the Dene yet, in favor ofa new mistress. Not but that Oliver is not a good son to hismother--such a good lad!--and such a good husband he would be to anygirl who ..."
"A strange youth that secretary of yours, Sir Marmaduke," hereinterposed Dame Harrison in her loud, dictatorial voice, breaking in onMistress Pyncheon's dithyrambs, "modest he appears to be, and silenttoo: a paragon meseems!"
She spoke with obvious sarcasm, casting covert glances at Lady Sue tosee if she heard.
Sir Marmaduke shrugged his shoulders.
"Lambert is very industrious," he said curtly.
"I thought secretaries never did anything but suck the ends of theirpens," suggested Mistress Pyncheon mildly.
"Sometimes they make love to their employer's daughter," retorted DameHarrison spitefully, for Lady Sue was undoubtedly lending an ear to theconversation now that it had the young secretary for object. She was notwatching Squire Boatfield who was wielding the balls just then withremarkable prowess, and at this last remark from the portly old dame,she turned sharply round and said with a strange little air ofhaughtiness which somehow became her very well:
"But then you see, mistress, Master Lambert's employer doth not possessa daughter of his own--only a ward ... mayhap that is the reason why hissecretary performs his duties so well in other ways."
Her cheeks were glowing as she said this, and she looked quite defiant,as if challenging these disagreeable mothers and aunts offortune-hunting youths to cast unpleasant aspersions on a friend whomshe had taken under her special protection.
Sir Marmaduke looked at her keenly; a deep frown settled between hiseyes at sight of her enthusiasm. His face suddenly looked older, andseemed more dour, more repellent than before.
"Sue hath such a romantic temperament," he said dryly, speaking betweenhis teeth and as if with an effort. "Lambert's humble origin has firedher imagination. He has no parents and his elder brother is theblacksmith down at Acol; his aunt, who seems to have had charge of theboys ever since they were children, is just a common old woman who livesin the village--a strict adherent, so I am told, of this new sect, whomJustice Bennet of Derby hath so justly nicknamed 'Quakers.' They talkstrangely, these people, and believe in a mighty queer fashion. I knownot if Lambert be of their creed, for he does not use the 'thee' and'thou' when speaking as do all Quakers, so I am told; but his emptypockets, a smattering of learning which he has picked up the Lord knowswhere, and a plethora of unspoken grievances, have all proved a surepassport to Lady Sue's sympathy."
"Nay, but your village of Acol seems full of queer folk, good SirMarmaduke," said Mistress Pyncheon. "I have heard talk among my servantsof a mysterious prince hailed from France, who has lately made one ofyour cottages his home."
"Oh! ah! yes!" quoth Sir Marmaduke lightly, "the interesting exile fromthe Court of King Louis. I did not know that his fame had reached you,mistress."
"A French prince?--in this village?" exclaimed Dame Harrison sharply,"and pray, good Sir Marmaduke, where did you go a-fishing to get such abite?"
"Nay!" replied Sir Marmaduke with a short laugh, "I had naught to dowith his coming; he wandered to Acol from Dover about six months ago itseems, and found refuge in the Lamberts' cottage, where he has remainedever since. A queer fellow I believe. I have only seen him once ortwice in my fields ... in the evening, usually ..."
Perhaps there was just a curious note of irritability in Sir Marmaduke'svoice as he spoke of this mysterious inhabitant of the quiet village ofAcol; certain it is that the two matchmaking old dames seemed smitten atone and the same time with a sense of grave danger to their schemes.
An exile from France, a prince who hides his identity and his person ina remote Kentish village, and a girl with a highly imaginativetemperament like Lady Sue! here was surely a more definite, a moreimportant rival to the pretensions of homely country youths like SirTimothy Harrison or Squire Pyncheon, than even the student of humbleorigin whose brother was a blacksmith, whose aunt was a Quakeress, andwho wandered about the park of Acol with hollow eyes fixed longingly onthe much-courted heiress.
Dame Harrison and Mistress Pyncheon both instinctively turned ascrutinizing gaze on her ladyship. Neither of them was perhapsordinarily very observant, but self-interest had made them keen, and itwould have been impossible not to note the strange atmosphere whichseemed suddenly to pervade the entire personality of the young girl.
There was nothing in her face now expressive of whole-heartedpartisanship for an absent friend, such as she had displayed when shefelt that young Lambert was being unjustly sneered at; rather was it akind of entranced and arrested thought, as if her mind, having come incontact with one all-absorbing idea, had ceased to function in any otherdirection save that one.
Her cheeks no longer glowed, they seemed pale and transparent like thoseof an ascetic; her lips were slightly parted, her eyes appearedunconscious of everything round her, and gazing at something enchantingbeyond that bank of clouds which glimmered, snow-white, through thetrees.
"But what in the name of common sense is a French prince doing in Acolvillage?" ejaculated Dame Harrison in her most strident voice, which hadthe effect of drawing every one's attention to herself and to SirMarmaduke, whom she was thus addressing.
The men ceased playing and gathered nearer. The spell was broken. Thatstrange and mysterious look vanished from Lady Sue's face; she turnedaway from the speakers and idly plucked a few bunches of acorn from anoverhanging oak.
"Of a truth," replied Sir Marmaduke, whose eyes were still steadilyfixed on his ward, "I know as little about the fellow, ma'am, as you doyourself. He was exiled from France by King Louis for political reasons,so he explained to the old woman Lambert, with whom he is still lodging.I understand that he hardly ever sleeps at the cottage, that hisappearances there are short and fitful and that his ways are passingmysterious.... And that is all I know," he added in conclusion, with acareless shrug of the shoulders.
"Quite a romance!" remarked Mistress Pyncheon dryly.
"You should speak to him, good Sir Marmaduke," said Dame Harrisondecisively, "you are a magistrate. 'Tis your duty to know more of thisfellow and his antecedents."
"Scarcely that
, ma'am," rejoined Sir Marmaduke, "you understand ... Ihave a young ward living for the nonce in my house ... she is very rich,and, I fear me, of a very romantic disposition ... I shall try to getthe man removed from hence, but until that is accomplished, I prefer toknow nothing about him ..."
"How wise of you, good Sir Marmaduke!" quoth Mistress Pyncheon with asigh of content.
A sentiment obviously echoed in the hearts of a good many people therepresent.
"One knows these foreign adventurers," concluded Sir Marmaduke withpleasant irony, "with their princely crowns and forlorn causes ... halfa million of English money would no doubt regild the former and bolsterup the latter."
He rose from his seat as he spoke, boldly encountering even as he didso, a pair of wrathful and contemptuous girlish eyes fixed steadily uponhim.
"Shall we go within?" he said, addressing his guests, and returning hisyoung ward's gaze haughtily, even commandingly; "a cup of sack-possetwill be welcome after the fatigue of the game. Will you honor my poorhouse, mistress? and you, too, ma'am? Gentlemen, you must fight amongyourselves for the privilege of escorting Lady Sue to the house, and ifshe prove somewhat disdainful this beautiful summer's afternoon, I prayyou remember that faint heart never won fair lady, and that the citadelis not worth storming an it is not obdurate."
The suggestion of sack-posset proved vastly to the liking of the merrycompany. Mistress de Chavasse who had been singularly silent all theafternoon, walked quickly in advance of her brother-in-law's guests, nodoubt in order to cast a scrutinizing eye over the arrangements of thetable, which she had entrusted to the servants.
Sir Marmaduke followed at a short distance, escorting the older women,making somewhat obvious efforts to control his own irritability, and toimpart some sort of geniality to the proceedings.
Then in a noisy group in the rear came the three men still fighting forthe good graces of Lady Sue, whilst she, silent, absorbed, walkedleisurely along, paying no heed to the wrangling of her courtiers, herfingers tearing up with nervous impatience the delicate cups of theacorns, which she then threw from her with childish petulance.
And her eyes still sought the distance beyond the boundaries of SirMarmaduke's private grounds, there where cornfields and sky and sea weremerged by the summer haze into a glowing line of emerald and purple andgold.