CHAPTER II.The Supper at the White Hart.
The White Hart of Tarningham was a neat little country inn, such aswas commonly found in most of the small towns of England at the periodof my tale. They are rapidly being brushed off the face of the earthby the great broom of the steam-engine, and very soon the "pleasuresof an inn" will be no longer known but by the records of history,while men run through the world at the rate of a hundred miles anhour, finding nothing on their way but stations and "hotels." I hatethe very name hotel. It is unEnglish, uncomfortable, unsatisfactory, acombination, I suppose, of host and hell, the one the recipient ofperturbed spirits, and the other their tormentor. But the word inn,how comfortable it is in all its significations. We have only retainedthe double _n_ in it that we may "wear our rue with a difference," andwhether we think of being _in_ place, or _in_ power, or _in_ thehearts of those we love, or _in_ the house during a storm, howpleasant is the feeling it produces. It has a home-like and Britishsound, and I do with all my heart wish that my fellow-countrymen wouldneither change their words nor their manners for worse things offoreign parentage. An inn, in the days I speak of, was a place famousfor white linen, broiled ham, and fresh eggs. I cannot say that thebeefsteaks were always tender, or the veal cutlets always done to aturn, or the beds always the softest in the world, but then think ofthe white dimity curtains, and the casements that rattled just enoughto let you know that it was blowing hard without, and the rosyapple-faced chambermaid, and the host himself, round as his own butts,ay, and as full of beer. An innkeeper of those days would have beenashamed to show himself under nineteen stone. He was a part of his ownsign, the recommendation of his own ale. His very paunch seemed to say"Look what it has done for me." It entered into his fat, it flowedthrough his veins, it puffed out his cheeks, it ran out at his eyes,and malt and hops was heard in every accent of his tongue. You had nolean, wizen-faced, black-silk-stockinged innkeepers in those days, andthe very aspiring waiters imitated their landlords, and hourly grewfat under the eye, that they might be in a fit condition to marry thewidow and take the business when the poor dear gentleman was swallowedup in beer.
Such an inn was the White Hart at Tarningham, and such a host was thelandlord, but he was a wise man, and loved not to look upon hissuccessors, for which cause, as well as on account of the trade notbeing very brisk in that quarter, he maintained no regular waiter; hehad a tapster it is true, but the cloth in the neat little parlour onthe left hand was laid by a white-capped, black-eyed, bloomingmaid-servant, and the landlord himself prepared to carry in the firstdish, and then leave his expected guest to the tendance of the samefair damsel.
The room was already occupied by one gentleman, the same who in takinghis evening walk had joined with our friend the horseman in the rescueof the two ladies, and to say truth, it was owing to his courtesy thatthe cloth was laid there at all, for he had prior possession, and oncommunicating to the landlord the fact that a guest would soon arrivewho proposed to sup upon roast chicken, the worthy host had exclaimedin a voice of consternation, "Good gracious me, what shall I do? Imust turn those fellows out of the tap-room and serve it there, forthere is old Mrs. Grover, the lawyer's widow, in the other parlour,and ne'er a sitting-room else in the house!"
"You can make use of this, landlord," replied the stranger; "thisgentleman seems a very good-humoured person, and I do not thinkwill be inclined to find fault, although he may not have a wholesitting-room to himself."
"I'd bet a quart," cried the landlord, as if a sudden thought struckhim, "I'd bet a quart that it's the gentleman whose portmanteau and awhole bundle of fishing-rods came down this morning. I'll run and seewhat's the name."
Whatever he felt, the gentleman already in possession expressed nocuriosity, but in two minutes the host rolled back again--for to run,as he threatened, was impossible, and informed his guest that thethings were addressed to "Edward Hayward, Esq., to be left at theWhite Hart, Tarningham."
"Very well," said the guest, and without more ado, he took up a bookwhich had been lying on the mantelpiece since the morning, and puttinghis feet upon another chair, began to read. The landlord bustled aboutthe room, and put the things in order. One of his fat sides knockedhis guest's chair, and he begged pardon, but the gentleman read on. Hetook up the hat, which had been knocked off in the struggle with thechaise, wiped off the red sand which it had gathered, and exclaimed,"Lord bless me, Sir, your hat's all beaten about;" but his companionmerely gave a nod, and read on.
At length, when the table was laid, and mustard, pepper, salt,vinegar, and bread had been brought in severally, when the maid hadre-arranged what the landlord had arranged before, smoothed what hehad smoothed, and brushed what he had brushed, a horse's feet trottingpast the window, were heard, and the minute after a voice exclaimed atthe door of the inn, "Here, ostler, take my horse, loose the girths,but don't take off the saddle yet, sponge his mouth, and walk him upand down for five minutes. Has his clothing come?"
"Oh, dear, yes, Sir, come this morning," answered the landlord. "Thisway, Sir, if you please. Sorry you did not let me know before, forpositively there is not a whole sitting-room in the house."
"Well, then, I will do with half of one," answered the stranger. "Why,my friend, if you grow any more you must have the doors widened. Youare the man for defending a pass; for, upon my life, in default ofharder materials, you would block up Thermopyl?. Ale, ale, ale, it'sall ale, landlord, and if you don't mind, it will set you ailing. Havemy fishing-rods come down?--all safe I hope;" and by the time he hadrun through these questions and observations, he was in the doorway ofthe little parlour on the left-hand. He stared for a minute at theprevious tenant of the room, who rose to receive him with a smile, andwhose face he did not seem to have observed very accurately in thesemi-darkness of the road. But the height and general appearance ofthe stranger soon showed him that they had met before, and with aneasy, good-humoured, dashing air, he went up and shook him by thehand.
"A strange means of making acquaintance, my dear Sir," he said, "butI'm very happy to see you again, and safe and well, too, for I thoughtat one time you were likely to get knocked on the head, and I scarcelydared to interfere, lest I should do it for you myself in trying tohit the other fellow. I hope you did not get any wounds or bruises inthe affray?"
"Oh, no," replied the stranger; "I was nearly strangled that iscertain, and shall not easily forget the grasp of that man's fingerson my throat; but in regard to this way of making an acquaintance, notwo men, I should think, could desire a better than to be bothengaged, even accidentally, in rescuing two ladies from wrong."
"Quite chivalrous!" exclaimed the horseman, laughing; "but two DonQuixotes would never do in the world, so I'll acknowledge, at once,that I've not the least spark of chivalry in my nature. If I see astrong thing hurting a weak thing, I knock the strong thing down ofcourse. I can't bear to see a big dog worry a little one, and don'tmuch like to see a terrier catch a rat. But it's all impulse, my dearSir, all impulse. Thank Heaven I am totally destitute of any sort ofenthusiasm. I like every thing in the world well enough, but do notwish to like any thing too much, except, indeed, a particularly goodbottle of claret--there, there, I am afraid I am weak. As to helpingtwo ladies, it is always a very pleasant thing, especially if one ofthem be a particularly pretty girl, as is the case in this instance, Ican tell you--but we really should do something to have these fellowscaught, for they might have the decency to wait till it is quite dark,and not begin their lawless avocations before the sun has been down anhour."
"I went immediately to a magistrate," answered the stranger; "but asin very many country places, I did not find the ornament of the benchvery highly enlightened. Because I was not the party actuallyattacked, he demurred to taking any steps whatever, and though I shookhis resolution on that point, and he seemed inclined to accede to mydemand, yet as soon as he found that I could not even give him thenames of the two ladies, he went all the way back again, and would noteven take my deposition. Perhaps after supper we had b
etter go to himagain together, for I dare say you can supply my deficiency by thistime, and tell him the name of your pretty lady and her mother."
"No; 'pon my life I can't," rejoined his companion, "I quite forgot toask--a very beautiful girl, though, and I wonder I didn't inquire, forI always like to ticket pretty faces. What is the name of your Midas,we'll soon bring him to reason, I doubt not. A country magistrate nottake a deposition against a highwayman! By Heaven, he will make thepeople think he goes shares in the booty."
"A highwayman!" exclaimed the landlord, who had been going in and out,and listening to all that was said, whether he had roast chicken, orboiled potatoes, or a jug of fresh drawn beer in his hand. "Why, Lord,Mr. Beauchamp, you never told me!"
"No, my good friend," answered the other, "I did not, because tospread such a tale through an inn, is the very best way I know ofinsuring the highwayman's escape."
"Well, I dare say, my good round friend," exclaimed the horseman, whomwe shall hereafter call Hayward, or as almost all who knew him, hadit, Ned Hayward, "I dare say you can help us to the names of these twoladies. Who was it one of your post-boys drove to-night, out there tothe westward, to a house in a park?"
"What, to Sir John Slingsby's?" exclaimed the host; but before hecould proceed to answer the more immediate question, Ned Hayward gavehimself a knock on the forehead, exclaiming,
"Sir John Slingsby's! why that's the very house I'm going to, and Inever thought to ask the name--what a fool I am! Well might they callme, when I was in the 40th, thoughtless Ned Hayward. But come, 'minehost of the garter'--"
"Of the White Hart, your honour," replied the landlord, with as low abow as his stomach would permit.
"Ay, of the White Hart be it then," said Ned Hayward, "let us hear whoare these beautiful ladies whom your post-boy drove so slowly, andstopped with so soon, at the bidding of three gentlemen of the road,with pistols in their hands?"
"Lord a mercy!" cried the host, "and was it Mrs. Clifford and herdaughter that they stopped? Well, I shouldn't wonder--but mum's theword--it's no affair of mine, and the least said is soonest mended."
The host's countenance had assumed a mysterious look. His whole aspecthad an air of mystery. He laid his finger upon the side of his nose,as men do for a practical exemplification of the process which istaking place in their mind when they are putting "that and that"together. He half closed one eye also, as if to give an indication tothe beholders that whatever might be the mental light in his ownbrain, it should not escape for the illumination of those without.There is a perversity in human nature which makes all men--saving theexceptions that prove the general rule--anxious to discover any thingthat is hidden, and consequently both Mr. Hayward and Mr. Beauchampattacked the worthy landlord, _totis viribus_, and attempted to wrenchfrom him his secret. He held it fast, however, with both hands,exclaiming,
"No, no, gentlemen, I'll not say a word--it's no business ofmine--I've nothing to do with it--it's all guess work, and a man whobeers and horses all the neighbourhood, must keep a good tongue in hishead. But one thing I will say, just to give you two gentlemen a hint,that perhaps you had better not meddle in this matter, or you may makea mess of it. Sally, is not that chicken ready?" And he called fromthe door of the room to the bar.
"I certainly shall meddle with it, my good friend," said Ned Hayward,in a determined tone, "and that very soon. I'm not the least afraid ofmaking a mess, as you call it, certain that none of it will fall uponmyself. So, as soon as we have got supper, which seems a devilish longtime coming, we will set off, Mr. Beauchamp, if you please, for thisgood magistrate's and try--"
He was interrupted in the midst of his speech, though it had by thistime nearly come to a conclusion, by a voice in the passage,exclaiming, "Groomber, Mr. Groomber," and the host instantlyvociferated, "Coming, Sir, coming," and rushed out of the room.
The voice was heard to demand, as soon as the landlord appearedblocking up the way, "Have you a person by the name of Beauchamphere?"
"Yes, your worship," replied the host, and after a few more words, ina lower tone, the door of the room was thrown open, and Mr. Wittinghamwas announced, just as Mr. Beauchamp was observing to his new-foundfriend, Ned Hayward, that the voice was very like that of the worthymagistrate to whom he had applied.
Mr. Wittingham was a tall and very respectable-looking gentleman,somewhat past the middle age, and verging towards that decline of lifewhich is marked by protuberance of the stomach, and thinness of thelegs. But, nevertheless, Mr. Wittingham carried it off very well, forhis height diminished the appearance of that which is usually called acorporation, and his legs were skilfully concealed in his top-boots.He was exceedingly neat in his apparel, tolerably rosy in the gills,and having a certain dogmatical peremptory expression, especiallyabout the thick eyebrows and hooknose, which he found wonderfullyefficacious in the decision of cases at petty sessions.
The moment he entered the room, he fixed his eyes somewhat sternlyupon Mr. Beauchamp (whom we have forgotten to describe as a verygentlemanlike--even distinguished-looking person of about thirtyyears of age), and addressing him in a rough, and rather uncivil tone,said, "Your name, I think you told me, is Beauchamp, Sir, and you cameto lay an information before me against certain persons for stopping achaise upon the king's highway."
"I am, as you say, Sir, called Beauchamp," replied the othergentleman, "and I waited upon you, as the nearest magistrate, to giveinformation of a crime which had been committed in your neighbourhoodwhich you refused to receive. Do me the honour of taking a seat."
"And pray, Sir, if I may be so bold as to ask, who and what are you?"inquired the magistrate, suffering himself to drop heavily into achair.
"I should conceive that had very little to do with the matter,"interposed Ned Hayward, before Mr. Beauchamp could answer. "The simplequestion is, whether an attempt at highway robbery, or perhaps a worseoffence, has or has not been made this night, upon Mrs. and MissClifford, as they were going over to my friend Sir John Slingsby's;and allow me to say that any magistrate who refuses to take adeposition on such a subject, and to employ the best means at hiscommand to apprehend the offenders, grossly neglects his duty."
The host brought in the roast fowl, and stared at the dashing tone ofNed Hayward's speech towards one of the magnates of the neighbourhood.Some words in the commencement of that speech had caused Mr.Wittingham's countenance to fall, but the attack upon himself in theconclusion, roused him to indignant resistance, so that his reply wasan angry demand of "Who the devil are you, Sir?"
"I am the devil of nobody, Mr. Wittington," answered Ned Hayward. "Iam my own devil, if any body's, and my name is Edward Hayward,commonly called Captain Hayward, late of the 40th regiment, and nowunattached. But as my supper is ready, I will beg leave to eat mychicken hot. Beauchamp, won't you join? Mr. Wittington, shall I giveyou a wing? Odd name, Wittington. Descendant of the renowned LordMayor of London, I presume?"
"No, Sir, no," answered the magistrate, while Beauchamp could scarcelyrefrain from laughing. "What I want to know is, what you have to dowith this affair?"
"Every thing in the world," answered Ned Hayward, carving the chicken,"as I and my friend Beauchamp here had equal shares in saving theladies from the clutches of these vagabonds. He came back here to giveinformation, while I rode on with the ladies to protect them. Bring mea bottle of your best sherry, landlord. Now, I'll tell you what, Mr.Wittington--haven't you got any ham that you could broil? I hatechicken without ham, it's as insipid as a country magistrate.--I'lltell you what, Mr. Wittington, this matter shall be investigated tothe bottom, whether you like it or not, and I have taken care to leavesuch marks upon two of the vagabonds, that they'll be easily known forthe next month to come. One of them is devilish like you, by the way,but younger. I hit him just over the eye, and down about the nose, sothat I'll answer for it I have lettered him in black and blue as wellas any sheep in your fields, and we'll catch him before we've done,though we must insist upon having the assistance of the justices."
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br /> "I think, Sir, you intend to insult me," said the magistrate, risingwith a very angry air, and a blank and embarrassed countenance.
"Not a whit, my dear Sir," answered Ned Hayward. "Pray sit down andtake a glass of wine."
"I wont, Sir," exclaimed Mr. Wittingham, "and I shall leave the room.If you have any thing to say to me, it must come before me in a formalmanner, and at a proper hour. To-morrow I shall be at the justice-roomtill eleven, and I hope you will be then prepared to treat the benchwith respect."
"The most profound, Sir," said Ned Hayward, rising and bowing till hisface almost touched the table before him, and then as Mr. Wittinghamwalked away with an indignant toss of the head, and closed the doorbehind him, our gay friend turned to his companion, saying, "There'ssomething under this, Beauchamp. We must find out what it is."
Beauchamp; or, The Error. Page 2
