CHAPTER XXXV. IN WHICH MY LORD BALTIMORE APPEARS
His Grace's offer was accepted with a readiness he could scarce haveexpected, and we all left the room in the midst of a buzz of comment.We knew well that the matter was not so haphazard as it appeared, and onthe way to Hanover Square Comyn more than once stepped on my toe, andI answered the pressure. Our coats and canes were taken by the duke'slackeys when we arrived. We were shown over the house. Until now--so hisGrace informed us--it had not been changed since the time of the fourthduke, who, as we doubtless knew, had been an ardent supporter of theHanoverian succession. The rooms were high-panelled and furnished inthe German style, as was the fashion when the Square was built. But somewere stripped and littered with scaffolding and plaster, new and costlymarble mantels were replacing the wood, and an Italian of some renownwas decorating the ceilings. His Grace appeared to be at some pains thatthe significance of these improvements should not be lost upon us; wasconstantly appealing to Mr. Fox's taste on this or that feature. Butthose fishy eyes of his were so alert that we had not even opportunityto wink. It was wholly patent, in brief, that the Duke of Charterseameant to be married, and had brought Charles and Comyn hither with apurpose. For me he would have put himself out not an inch had he notunderstood that my support came from those quarters.
He tempered off this exhibition by showing us a collection of potteryfamous in England, that had belonged to the fifth duke, his father.Every piece of it, by the way, afterwards brought an enormous sum atauction. Supper was served in a warm little room of oak. The game wasfrom Derresley Manor, the duke's Nottinghamshire seat, and the wine, sohe told us, was some of fifty bottles of rare Chinon he had inherited.Melted rubies it was indeed, of the sort which had quickened the bloodof many a royal gathering at Blois and Amboise and Chenonceaux,--thedistilled peasant song of the Loire valley. In it many a careworn clownhad tasted the purer happiness of the lowly. Our restraint gave wayunder its influence. His Grace lost for the moment his deformities, andMr. Fox made us laugh until our sides ached again. His Lordshiptold many a capital yarn, and my own wit was afterwards said to beastonishing, though I can recall none of it to support the affirmation.
Not a word or even a hint of Dorothy had been uttered, nor didChartersea so much as refer to his Covent Garden experience. At length,when some half dozen of the wine was gone, and the big oak clock hadstruck two, the talk lapsed. It was Charles Fox, of course, who threwthe spark into the powder box.
"We were speaking of hunting, Chartersea," he said. "Did you ever knowGeorge Wrottlesey, of the Suffolk branch?"
"No," said his Grace, very innocent.
"No! 'Od's whips and spurs, I'll be sworn I never saw a man to beat himfor reckless riding. He would take five bars any time, egad, and sit anycolt that was ever foaled. The Wrottleseys were poor as weavers then,with the Jews coming down in the wagon from London and hanging roundthe hall gates. But the old squire had plenty of good hunters in thestables, and haunches on the board, and a cellar that was like thewidow's cruse of oil, or barrel of meal--or whatever she had. All theold man had to do to lose a guinea was to lay it on a card. He nevernicked in his life, so they say. Well, young George got after a richtea-merchant's daughter who had come into the country near by. 'Slife!she was a saucy jade, and devilish pretty. Such a face! so Stavordalevowed, and such a neck! and such eyes! so innocent, so ravishinglyinnocent. But she knew cursed well George was after the bank deposit,and kept him galloping. And when he got a view, halloa, egad! she wasstole away again, and no scent.
"One morning George was out after the hounds with Stavordale, who toldme the story, and a lot of fellows who had come over from Newmarket. Hewas upon Aftermath, the horse that Foley bought for five hundred poundsand was a colt then. Of course he left the field out of sight behind. Hemade for a gap in the park wall (faith! there was no lack of 'em), butthe colt refused, and over went George and plumped into a cart of winterapples some farmer's sot was taking to Bury Saint Edmunds to market. Thefall knocked the sense out of George, for he hasn't much, and Stavordalethinks he must have struck a stake as he went in. Anyway, the applesrolled over on top of him, and the drunkard on the seat never woke up,i' faith. And so they came to town.
"It so chanced, egad, that the devil sent Miss Tea Merchant to Bury tobuy apples. She amused herself at playing country gentlewoman while papaworked all week in the city. She saw the cart in the market, and atethree (for she had the health of a barmaid), and bid in the load, andGeorge with it. 'Pon my soul! she did. They found his boots first. Andthe lady said, before all the grinning Johns and Willums, that sinceshe had bought him she supposed she would have to keep him. And, by Gadslife! she has got him yet, which is a deal stranger."
Even the duke laughed. For, as Fox told it, the story was irresistible.But it came as near to being a wanton insult as a reference to hisGrace's own episode might. The red came slowly back into his eye. Foxstared vacantly, as was his habit when he had done or said somethingespecially daring. And Comyn and I waited, straining and expectant, likeboys who have prodded a wild beast and stand ready for the spring. Therewas a metallic ring in the duke's voice as he spoke.
"I have heard, Mr. Carvel, that you can ride any mount offered you."
"Od's, and so he can!" cried Jack. "I'll take oath on that."
"I will lay you an hundred guineas, my Lord," says his Grace, veryoff-hand, "that Mr. Carvel does not sit Baltimore's Pollux above twentyminutes."
"Done!" says Jack, before I could draw breath.
"I'll take your Grace for another hundred," calmly added Mr. Fox.
"It seems to me, your Grace," I cried, angry all at once, "it seems tome that I am the one to whom you should address your wagers. I am nota jockey, to be put up at your whim, and to give you the chance to losemoney."
Chartersea swung around my way.
"Your pardon, Mr. Carvel," said he, very coolly, very politely; "yoursis the choice of the wager. And you reject it, the others must be calledoff."
"Slife! I double it!" I said hotly, "provided the horse is alive, andwill stand up."
"Devilish well put, Richard!" Mr. Fox exclaimed, casting off hisrestraint.
"I give you my word the horse is alive, sir," he answered, with a mockbow; "'twas only yesterday that he killed his groom, at Hampstead."
A few moments of silence followed this revelation. It was Charles Foxwho spoke first.
"I make no doubt that your Grace, as a man of honour,"--he emphasizedthe word forcibly,--"will not refuse to ride the horse for anothertwenty minutes, provided Mr. Carvel is successful. And I will lay yourGrace another hundred that you are thrown, or run away with."
Truly, to cope with a wit like Mr. Fox's, the duke had need for a longerhead. He grew livid as he perceived how neatly he had been snared in hisown trap.
"Done!" he cried loudly; "done, gentlemen. It only remains to hit upontime and place for the contest. I go to York to-morrow, to be backthis day fortnight. And if you will do me the favour of arrangingwith Baltimore for the horse, I shall be obliged. I believe he intendsselling it to Astley, the showman."
"And are we to keep it?" asks Mr. Fox.
"I am dealing with men of honour," says the duke, with a bow: "I needhave no better assurance that the horse will not be ridden in theinterval."
"'Od so!" said Comyn, when we were out; "very handsome of him. But Iwould not say as much for his Grace."
And Mr. Fox declared that the duke was no coward, but all other epithetsknown might be called him. "A very diverting evening, Richard," said he;"let's to your apartments and have a bowl, and talk it over."
And thither we went.
I did not sleep much that night, but 'twas of Dolly I thought ratherthan of Chartersea. I was abroad early, and over to inquire in ArlingtonStreet, where I found she had passed a good night. And I sent Banksa-hooting for some violets to send her, for I knew she loved thatflower.
Between ten and eleven Mr. Fox and Comyn and I set out for BaltimoreHouse. When you go to London, my dear
s, you will find a vast differencein the neighbourhood of Bloomsbury from what it was that May morningin 1770. Great Russell Street was all a sweet fragrance of gardens,mingling with the smell of the fields from the open country to thenorth. We drove past red Montagu House with its stone facings and dome,like a French hotel, and the cluster of buildings at its great gate. Ithad been then for over a decade the British Museum. The ground behindit was a great resort for Londoners of that day. Many a sad affair wasfought there, but on that morning we saw a merry party on their way toplay prisoner's base.
Then we came to the gardens in front of Bedford House, which are nowBloomsbury Square. For my part I preferred this latter mansion to theFrench creation by its side, and admired its long and graceful lines.Its windows commanded a sweep from Holborn on the south to Highgate onthe north. To the east of it, along Southampton Row, a few great houseshad gone up or were building; and at the far end of that was Baltimorehouse, overlooking her Grace of Bedford's gardens. Beyond Lamb's ConduitFields stretched away to the countryside.
I own I had a lively curiosity to see that lordly ruler, the proprietorof our province, whose birthday we celebrated after his Majesty's. HadI not been in a great measure prepared, I should have had a revulsionindeed.
When he heard that Mr. Fox and my Lord Comyn were below stairs hegave orders to show them up to his bedroom, where he received us in anight-gown embroidered with oranges. My Lord Baltimore, alas! was notmuch to see. He did not make the figure a ruler should as he sat in hiseasy chair, and whined and cursed his Swiss. He was scarce a year overforty, and he had all but run his race. Dissipation and corrosion hadset their seal upon him, had stamped his yellow face with crows' feetand blotted it with pimples. But then the glimpse of a fine gentlemanjust out of bed of a morning, before he is made for the day, is unfair.
"Morning, Charles! Howdy, Jack!" said his Lordship, apathetically. "Gladto know you, Mr. Carvel. Heard of your family. 'Slife! Wish there weremore like 'em in the province."
This sentiment not sitting very well upon his Lordship, I bowed, andsaid nothing.
"By the bye," he continued, pouring out his chocolate into the dish,"I sent a damned rake of a parson out there some years gone. Handsomedevil, too. Never seen his match with the women, egad. 'Od's fish--"he leered. And then added with an oath and a nod and a vile remark:"Married three times to my knowledge. Carried off dozen or so more. Someof 'em for me. Many a good night I've had with him. Drank between us oneevening at Essex's gallon and half Champagne and Burgundy apiece. He gotto know too much, y' know," he concluded, with a wicked wink. "Had tobuy him up pack him off."
"His name, Fred?" said Comyn, with a smile at me.
"'Sdeath! That's it. Trouble to remember. Damned if I can think." And herepeated this remark over and over.
"Allen?" said Comyn.
"Yes," said Baltimore; "Allen. And egad I think he'll find hell a hotterplace than me. You know him, Mr. Carvel?"
"Yes," I replied. I said no more. I make no reservations when I avow Iwas never so disgusted in my life. But as I looked upon him, haggardand worn, with retribution so neat at hand, I had no words to protest orcondemn.
Baltimore gave a hollow mirthless laugh, stopped short, and looked atCharles Fox.
"Curse you, Charles! I suppose you are after that little matter I oweyou for quinze."
"Damn the little matter!" said Fox. "Come, get you perfumed and dressed,and order up some of your Tokay while we wait. I have to go to St.Stephens. Mr. Carvel has come to buy your horse Pollux. He has betChartersea two hundred guineas he rides him for twenty minutes."
"The devil he has!" cried his Lordship, jaded no longer. "Why, you mustknow, Mr. Carvel, there was no groom in my stables who would sit himuntil Foley made me a present of his man, Miller, who started to ridehim to Hyde Park. As he came out of Great Russell Street, by gads life!the horse broke and ran out the Tottenham Court Road all the way toHampstead. And the fiend picked out a big stone water trough and tossedMiller against it. Then they gathered up the fragments. Damme if I liketo see suicide, Mr. Carvel. If Chartersea wants to kill you, let him tryit in the fields behind Montagu House here."
I told his Lordship that I had made the wager, and could not in honourwithdraw, though the horse had killed a dozen grooms. But already heseemed to have lost interest. He gave a languid pull at the velvettassel on his bell-rope, ordered the wine; and, being informed thathis anteroom below was full of people, had them all dismissed with themessage that he was engaged upon important affairs. He told Mr. Foxhe had heard of the Jerusalem Chamber, and vowed he would have a likeinstitution. He told me he wished the colony of Maryland in hell; thathe was worn out with the quarrels of Governor Eden and his Assembly, andoffered to lay a guinea that the Governor's agent would get to him thatday,--will-he, nill-he. I did not think it worth while to argue withsuch a man.
My Lord took three-quarters of an hour to dress, and swore he had notaccomplished the feat so quickly in a year. He washed his hands and facein a silver basin, and the scent of the soap filled the room. He ratedhis Swiss for putting cinnamon upon his ruffles in place of attar ofroses, and attempted to regale us the while with some of his choicestadventures. In more than one of these, by the way, his Grace ofChartersea figured. It was Fox who brought him up.
"See here, Baltimore," he said, "I'm not squeamish. But I'm cursed if Ilike to hear a man who may die any time between bottles talk so."
His Lordship took the rebuke with an oath, and presently hobbled downthe stairs of the great and silent house to the stable court, wheretwo grooms were in waiting with the horse. He was an animal of amazingpower, about sixteen hands, and dapple gray in colour. And it requiredno special knowledge to see that he had a devil inside him. It gleamedwickedly out of his eye.
"'Od's life, Richard!" cried Charles, "he has a Jew nose; by all theseven tribes I bid you 'ware of him."
"You have but to ride him with a gold bit, Richard," said Comyn, "and heis a kitten, I'll warrant."
At that moment Pollux began to rear and kick, so that it took both the'ostlers to hold him.
"Show him a sovereign," suggested Fox. "How do you feel, Richard?"
"I never feared a horse yet," I said with perfect truth, "nor do I fearthis one, though I know he may kill me."
"I'll lay you twenty pounds you have at least one bone broken, and tenthat you are killed," Baltimore puts in querulously, from the doorway.
"I'll do this, my Lord," I answered. "If I ride him, he is mine. If hethrows me, I give you twenty pounds for him."
The gentlemen laughed, and Baltimore vowed he could sell the horse toAstley for fifty; that Pollux was the son of Renown, of the Dukeof Kingston's stud, and much more. But Charles rallied him out bya reference to the debt at quinze, and an appeal to his honour as asportsman. And swore he was discouraging one of the prettiest encountersthat would take place in England for many a long day. And so the horsewas sent to the stables of the White Horse Cellar, in Piccadilly, andleft there at my order.
Richard Carvel — Complete Page 36
