Frank Fairlegh Part 62

"What does he mean by that?" inquired I of the boy who delivered the message--an intelligent little urchin, who was evidently well up in the whole affair, and appeared highly delighted at the trust reposed in him, to say nothing of the harvest of sixpences his various missions produced him.

"Vy, sir, he means that the gamekeeper has had two extra a.s.sistants allowed him since you vos there the other day, sir, and they has strict orders to take hup anybody as they finds in the park, sir."

"They need not alarm themselves," replied I; "I shall not intrude upon their domain again in a hurry. Now look out, and let me know when Peter Barnett is coming."

So saying, I gave him the wished-for sixpence, and with a grin of satisfaction he departed.

With leaden feet the hours crawled along, and still old Peter Barnett did not make his appearance; when, about twelve o'clock, a horseman pa.s.sed by, followed by a groom. As he rode at a very quiet pace, his face was easily recognised, and I saw at a glance it was Mr. Vernor.

Fortunately he never looked towards the window at which I was standing, or he must have seen me. Scarcely ten minutes had elapsed, when old Peter arrived, breathless from the speed at which he had come; his grotesque but expressive features gleaming with delight and sagacity, while his merry little eyes danced and twinkled as if they would jump out of their sockets. Rea.s.sured, in spite of myself, by his manner, I exclaimed, as I closed the parlour -412-- door behind him, "Well, Peter; speak out, man--what is it?"

"Oh! my breath!" was the reply, "running don't suit old legs like it does young uns. I say, sir, did ye see _him_ go by?"

"I saw Mr. Vernor pa.s.s a few minutes since," replied I.

"Ah! that's what I've been a-waiting for; we're safe from him for the next four hours: he didn't see you, did he?"

"No," returned I, "he was fortunately looking another way."

"Well, it's all right then, everything's all right; oh! lor, I'm so happy."

"It's more than I am," replied I angrily; for feeling convinced that nothing could have occurred materially to affect the position in which Clara and I stood towards each other, the old man's joy grated harshly on my gloomy state of mind, and I began to attribute his excessive hilarity to the influence of the ale-tap. "You will drive me frantic with your ridiculous and unseasonable mirth. If you have anything to communicate likely to relieve my sorrow and anxiety, in the name of common sense speak out, man."

"I beg your pardon, sir; I was so happy myself, I was forgetting you: I've got so much to tell you, I don't know where to begin rightly; but, however, here goes--to the right-about face! March!" He then proceeded to give me, with much circ.u.mlocution, which I will mercifully spare the reader, the following account. After he had left me at the conclusion of our last interview, feeling, as he said, "more wretcheder" than he had ever done before, in going through the park, he observed two persons, a man and a woman, in close conversation; on his approach they separated, but not until he had been able to recognise Wilford, and one of the female servants, Clara's personal attendant. "This," as he continued, "set him a-thinking," and the result of his cogitations occasioned the mysterious hint thrown out to me in his note. On receiving my letter for Clara, he found an opportunity of delivering it in person, inquiring, when he did so, both when she had last heard from, and written to, me; at the same time informing her that he had a very particular reason for asking. He then learned what he had more than suspected from the interview he had witnessed in the park, namely, that since Wilford had been in the house, she had not only never received one of my letters, but had written to me more than once to ascertain the -413-- cause of such an unaccountable silence. These letters she had, as usual, given to her maid to convey to Peter Barnett; and the girl, cajoled and bribed by Wilford, had evidently given them to him instead. This induced Peter, as he expressed it, "to open his heart to his young mistress," and with deep contrition he confessed to her the suspicions he had entertained of her fickleness, how he had communicated them to me, and how circ.u.mstances had forced me to believe them. Clara, naturally much distressed and annoyed by this information, blamed him for not having spoken to her sooner, a.s.sured him that he had wronged her deeply in imagining such things, and desired him somewhat haughtily to lose no time in undeceiving Mr. Fairlegh. He then inquired whether she wished to send any answer to my note; on which she read it through with a quivering lip, and replied, "Yes, tell him, that as he finds it so easy to believe evil of me, I agree with him that it will be better our acquaintance should terminate". She then motioned to him to leave the room, and he was obliged to obey; but, glancing at her as he closed the door, he perceived that she had covered her face with her hands, and was weeping bitterly. He next set to work with the waiting-maid, and by dint of threats of taking her before Mr. Vernor, and promises, if she confessed all, that he would intercede with Clara for her forgiveness, he elicited from her the whole truth--namely, that by the joint influence of bribes and soft speeches, Wilford had induced her to hand over to him her mistress's letters, and that he had detained every one either to or from me. "Well, sir," continued he, "that was not such a bad day's work altogether, but I ain't been idle since. Mr. Fleming, or Wilford, as you says he is, started off the first thing this morning for London, and ain't c.u.mming back till the day after to-morrow; so, thinks I, we'll turn the tables upon you, my boy, for once--that ere letter dodge was very near a-ruining us, I wonder how it will hact the t'other way: and a lucky thought it was too, Muster Fairlegh, for sich a scheme of willainy as I've descivered all dewised against poor dear Miss Clara--"

"A scheme against Miss Saville!" exclaimed I; "what do you mean?"

"I'm a-going to tell you, sir, only you're in such a hurry, you puts me out. After the thought as I was a-mentioning c.u.m into my head, off I w -414-- with you, ain't ye?' 'Let's look, my man,' says I, peeping over him as he sorted the letters. Presently he c.u.m to one as seemed to puzzle him. 'W. I. L.,' says he, 'W.I. L. F.--' 'Oh!' says I, 'that's the gent as is a-stay-ing at our 'ouse, give us 'old on it.' 'And here's one for Mr. Wernor, and that's all,' says he, and he guv me the letter and walked off. 'That's right, Peter,' says I to myself, 'we shall know a little more of the henemy's movements, now we've captivated some of their private despatches, by a _coo-dur-mang_, as the Mounseers call it; 'so I locks myself into the pantry, and sits down, and breaks the seal."

"You opened the letter!" exclaimed I.

"In course I did; how was I to read it if I hadn't? all's fair in love and war, you know--the blessed Duke of Wellington served Bony so many a time, I'll be bound; besides, hadn't he opened Miss Clara's, the blackguard? Well, sir, I read it, and it's lucky as I did; oh! he's a bad un, he's a deal wickeder than Muster Richard hisself, and that's saying something--it's from a Captain --"

"Really, Peter, I cannot avail myself of information obtained in such a manner," interrupted I.

"Ah! but you must though," was the reply, "if you want to prevent this black willain from carrying off Miss Clara, and marrying her, _nolus bolus_."

"Carrying off Miss Clara! what do you mean?"

"I was a-going to tell you," returned old Peter, with a cunning grin, producing a crumpled letter, "only' you wouldn't listen to me."

As I (not being prepared with a satisfactory answer) remained silent, he smoothed the letter with his hand, and read as follows:--

"My dear Sir,--I was unfortunately out of town when your letter arrived, and it had to be sent after me; but I hope you will get this in time to prevent your having to come to London., which is unnecessary, as I have been able to carry out all your arrangements as you would wish. A carriage, with four horses, will be kept in readiness, so that it can be brought to any point you may direct at half an hour's notice. I presume you and I, with Wilson [that's his valet], are sufficient to carry off the girl--young lady, I mean, even if there be any papa or brother in the case, who would be the better for a little knocking down; but if you like more a.s.sistance, I can lay my hand on two or three sprightly lads, who would be very glad to make themselves useful. You are flying at high game this time. Do you really mean matrimony, or is it to be the -415-- old scheme, a mock marriage? I ask, because in the latter case I must look out for somebody to play parson. Wis.h.i.+ng you your usual luck,

"I remain, yours to command,

"Ferdinand Spicer, "_Captain in the Bilboa Fencibles_."

"Spicer!" I exclaimed, as he concluded; "I knew a Captain Spicer once, who was a person likely enough to lend himself to a scheme of this vile nature. Well, Peter, the information is most important, however questionable the means by which it has been acquired. The matter must be looked to; but first, I want to learn a few particulars about Miss Saville's relations on the mother's side." I then proceeded with a string of questions furnished me by Mr. Frampton, by the answers to which I ascertained, beyond a doubt, that Clara was indeed his niece, the orphan child of his favourite sister. Having established this point to my own satisfaction, and the unbounded delight of Peter Barnett, who at length began to entertain a not unreasonable hope that his pet daydream of kicking Mr. Vernor out of Barstone Priory might, at some time or other be realised, I said, "Now, Peter, I must somehow contrive to see your young mistress, and try to obtain her forgiveness; but as I cannot say I managed the matter over-well the other day, I will put myself into your hands, to be guided by you entirely".

"Ah! I thought what was a-coming; well, that is speaking sensible-like for once; but do you think you could write anything as would persuade her to meet you? She's precious angry, I'm afraid, with us both, and small blame to her either; for hit ain't over-pleasant to be suspected when one's innocent, and she has a high spirit, bless her!--she wouldn't be her father's own daughter if she hadn't."

"I can write a few lines to her, and try," replied I mournfully, for the old man's words sounded like a death knell to my hopes.

"Come, don't be out of spirits, and down-casted-like, sir," urged Peter; "suppose she did make up her mind she'd give you the cold shoulder, she'd be sure to change it again to-morrow, women is such wersytile creeturs; besides, she couldn't do it if she wanted to; it would break her heart, I know. I wonder where she'd find such another sweetheart?"

continued he, _sotto voce_, as he turned to get the writing materials; "good-looking, high-spirited, uncommon pleasant to talk to, six foot one -416-- if he's an inch, and as upright as if I'd had the drilling of him myself."

With an eager, yet trembling hand (for I was in such a state of agitation that I could scarcely write), I s.n.a.t.c.hed a pen, and hastily scrawled the following words:--

"Clara, will you--can you forgive me? It is of the utmost importance that I should see you and speak to you without delay, if but for five minutes; strange and unexpected things have come to light, and it is necessary for your happiness, nay, even for your very safety, that you should be made acquainted with them. Clara, dearest Clara, grant me this boon, if not for my sake, for your own; if you knew the misery, the agony of mind I have endured for the last two days, I think you would pity, would pardon me.

"F. F."

"There," said I, as I hastily sealed it, "I have done all I can, and if she will not see me, I shall be ready to go and blow Wilford's brains out first, and my own afterwards. So, my good Peter, be off at once, for every moment seems an hour till I learn her decision."

"Wait a bit, sir,--wait a bit; you haven't heard my plan yet. You can't set your foot in the park, for there's the keeper and two a.s.sistants on the look out; and if you could, you dare not show your nose in the house, for there's Muster Richard with his lovely black hyes a-setting in the liberary, and he's got ears like an 'are, besides two or three of the servants as would tell him in a minute. No, this is the way I means to manage--Miss Clara generally rides a-horseback every day, and I rides behind her; and before I came out, I ordered the horses as usual. So, if she's willing to come, we'll go out at the back gate by the great oak, a quarter of a mile farther down this lane, and when we've got out of sight of the park paling, you've nothing to do but set spurs to your horse, and join us;--therefore, if you hears nothing to the contrairy, when I've been gone half an hour, you mount your nag, ride quietly up the lane, and keep your hyes open."-417--

CHAPTER LI -- FREDDY COLEMAN FALLS INTO DIFFICULTIES

"I am he that am so love-shaked,-- I pray you, tell me your remedy."

--_As You Like It_.

"I am sprighted with a fool, frighted, and angered worse."

--_Cymbeline_.

OH! that tedious half-hour! I should like to know, merely as a curious matter of calculation, how many minutes there were in that half-hour--sixty-five at the very least; the hands of my watch stuck between the quarter and twenty minutes for full a quarter of an hour, and as for the old Dutch clock in the bar, that was worn out, completely good for nothing, I am certain, for I ordered my horse round to the door above ten minutes too soon by that, and I'm sure I didn't start before my time,--it would have been folly to do so, you know, because it was possible old Peter might send at any moment before the expiration of that half-hour. But at last even it came to an end--and no message had arrived; so, burning with impatience, I sprang into the saddle, and with difficulty restraining myself from das.h.i.+ng off at a gallop, I reined in the mare, and proceeded at a foot's pace up the lane.

After riding about a quarter of a mile, I perceived a small hand-gate just under a magnificent oak, which I at once recognised as the tree old Peter had described. Unwilling to attract the notice of the gamekeeper and his myrmidons by loitering about in the lane, I discovered a gap in a hedge on the other side the road, and, after glancing round to see that I was un.o.bserved, I rode at it, and leaped into the opposite field, where, hidden behind a clump of alders, I could perceive all that pa.s.sed in the road. But for a long time nothing did pa.s.s, save a picturesque donkey, whose fore-feet being fastened together by what are called "hobbles,"{1} advanced by a series of jumps--a mode of progression which greatly alarmed the sensitive nerves of my mare, causing her to plunge and pull in a way which gave me some trouble to hold her.

After I had succeeded in quieting her, I dismounted, and, tightening the saddle-girths, which had become loosened during her struggles, got on again; still no one came. At length, just as I was beginning to despair, I heard the

1 Query, whether so called because they oblige the wearer to _hobble _?

-418-- sound of horses' feet, and old Peter, mounted on a stout cob, rode to the wicket-gate, and heldit open, while Clara on a pretty chestnut pony cantered up, and pa.s.sed through it.

Oh! how my heart beat, when, reining in her pony, she glanced round for a moment, as if in search of something, and then, with a slight gesture of disappointment, struck him lightly with her riding-whip, and bounded forward. Old Peter seemed still more puzzled, and looked up and down the road with an air of the most amusing perplexity, before he made up his mind to follow his mistress. About a hundred yards from this spot, the lane turned abruptly to the left, skirting a second side of the square field in which I had taken up my position; by crossing this field, therefore, I conceived I should cut off a great angle, and regain the road before they came up.

Setting spurs to my horse then, I rode off at speed, trusting to find some gate or gap by which I might effect my exit. In this calculation, however, I was deceived; instead of anything of the sort, my eyes were greeted by a stiff ox-fence, with a rather unpleasantly high fall of ground into the lane beyond,--a sort of place well fitted to winnow a hunting-field, and sift the gentlemen who come out merely to show their white gloves and buckskins, from the "real sort," who "mean going," and are resolved to see the end of the run. However, in the humour in which I then was, it would not have been easy to stop me, and holding the mare well together, I put her steadily at it. Fortunately, she was a first-rate fencer, and knew her work capitally, as she proved in the present instance, by rising to the leap, clearing the fence in beautiful style, and dropping lightly into the lane beyond, without so much as a stumble, just as Clara and her attendant turned the corner of the road and came in sight. My sudden appearance frightened Clara's pony to a degree which justified me in riding up and a.s.sisting her to reduce it to order. Having accomplished this not very difficult task, I waited for a moment, hoping she would be the first to speak, but finding she remained silent, I began, "Really, I am most unfortunate; I had no idea you were near enough for me to startle the pony,--I hope I have not alarmed you".

[Ill.u.s.tration: page418 The Reconciliation]

"How can you risk your life so madly," she replied, in a tone of reproach, "and for no reason, too?"