A Reputed Changeling

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER VIII: THE RETURN

  "I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose inFrance, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour everywhere."

  Merchant of Venice.

  It was autumn, but in the year 1687, when again Lucy Archfield andAnne Jacobina Woodford were pacing the broad gravel walk along thesouth side of the nave of Winchester Cathedral. Lucy, in spite ofher brocade skirt and handsome gown of blue velvet tucked up overit, was still devoid of any look of distinction, but was a round-faced, blooming, cheerful maiden, of that ladylike thoroughlycountrified type happily frequent in English girlhood throughout alltime.

  Anne, or Jacobina, as she tried to be called, towered above herhead, and had never lost that tincture of courtly grace that earlybreeding had given her, and though her skirt was of gray wool, andthe upper gown of cherry tabinet, she wore both with an air thatmade them seem more choice and stylish than those of her companion,while the simple braids and curls of her brown hair set off anunusually handsome face, pale and clear in complexion, with regularfeatures, fine arched eyebrows over clear brown eyes, a short chin,and a mouth of perfect outline, but capable of looking veryresolute.

  Altogether she looked fit for a Court atmosphere, and perhaps shewas not without hopes of it, for Dr. Woodford had become a royalchaplain under Charles II, and was now continued in the same office;and though this was a sinecure as regarded the present King, yetTory and High Church views were as much in the ascendant as theycould be under a Romanist king, and there were hopes of a canonry atWindsor or Westminster, or even higher preferment still, if he werenot reckoned too staunch an Anglican. That Mrs. Woodford's healthhad been failing for many months past would, her sanguine daughterthought, be remedied by being nearer the best physicians in London,which had been quitted with regret. Meantime Lucy's firstexperiences of wedding festivities were to be heard. For theArchfield family had just returned from celebrating the marriage ofthe heir. Long ago Anne Jacobina had learnt to reckon MasterCharles's pledges of affection among the sports and follies ofchildhood, and the strange sense of disappointment and shame withwhich she recollected them had perhaps added to her natural reserve,and made her feel it due to maidenly dignity to listen with zest tothe account of the bride, who was to be brought to supper at DoctorWoodford's that eve.

  "She is a pretty little thing," said Lucy, "but my mother was muchconcerned to find her so mere a child, and would not, if she hadseen her, have consented to the marriage for two years to come,except for the sake of having her in our own hands."

  "I thought she was sixteen."

  "Barely fifteen, my dear, and far younger than we were at that age.She cried because her woman said she must leave her old doll behindher; and when my brother declared that she should have anything sheliked, she danced about, and kissed him, and made him kiss itswooden face with half the paint rubbed off."

  "He did?"

  "Oh, yes! She is like a pretty fresh plaything to him, and they goabout together just like big Towzer and little Frisk at home. He isvery much amused with her, and she thinks him the finest possessionthat ever came in her way."

  "Well, so he is."

  "That is true; but somehow it is scarcely like husband and wife; andmy mother fears that she may be sickly, for she is so small andslight that it seems as if you could blow her away, and so whitethat you would think she had no blood, except when a little heatbrings the purest rose colour to her cheek, and that, my lady says,betokens weakliness. You know, of course, that she is an orphan;her father died of a wasting consumption, and her mother not longafter, when she was a yearling babe. It was her grandfather who wasmy father's friend in the old cavalier days, and wrote to proposethe contract to my brother not long before his death, when she wasbut five years old. The pity was that she was not sent to us atonce, for the old lord, her grand-uncle, never heeded or cared forher, but left her to servants, who petted her, but understoodnothing of care of her health or her education, so that the onlywonder is that she is alive or so sweet and winning as she is. Shecan hardly read without spelling, and I had to make copies for herof Alice Fitzhubert, to show her how to sign the book. All she knewshe learnt from the old steward, and only when she liked. My fatherlaughs and is amused, but my lady sighs, and hopes her portion isnot dearly bought."

  "Is not she to be a great heiress?"

  "Not of the bulk of the lands--they go to heirs male; but there ismuch besides, enough to make Charles a richer man than our father.I wonder what you will think of her. My mother is longing to talkher over with Mrs Woodford."

  "And my mother is longing to see my lady."

  "I fear she is still but poorly."

  "We think she will be much better when we get home," said Anne. "Iam sure she is stronger, for she walked round the Close yesterday,and was scarcely tired."

  "But tell me, Anne, is it true that poor Master Oliver Oakshott isdead of smallpox?"

  "Quite true. Poor young gentleman, he was to have married thatcousin of his mother's, Mistress Martha Browning, living atEmsworth. She came on a visit, and they think she brought theinfection, for she sickened at once, and though she had itfavourably, is much disfigured. Master Oliver caught it and died inthree days, and all the house were down with it. They say poor Mrs.Oakshott forgot her ailments and went to and fro among them all. Mymother would have gone to help in their need if she had been as wellas she used to be."

  "How is it with the other son? He was a personable youth enough. Isaw him at the ship launch in the spring, and thought both ladswould fain have staid for the dance on board but for their grim oldfather."

  "You saw Robert, but he is not the elder."

  "What? Is that shocking impish urchin whom we used to call Riquetwith the tuft, older than he?"

  "Certainly he is. He writes from time to time to my mother, andseems to be doing well with his uncle."

  "I cannot believe he would come to good. Do you remember hissending my brother and cousin adrift in the boat?"

  "I think that was in great part the fault of your cousin for mockingand tormenting him."

  "Sedley Archfield was a bad boy! There's no denying that. I amafraid he had good reason for running away from college."

  "Have you heard of him since?"

  "Yes; he has been serving with the Life-guards in Scotland, andmayhap he will come home and see us. My father wishes to seewhether he is worthy to have a troop procured by money or favour forhim, and if they are recalled to the camp at November it will be anopportunity. But see--who is coming through the Slype?"

  "My uncle. And who is with him?"

  Dr. Woodford advanced, and with him a small slender figure in black.As the broad hat with sable plume was doffed with a sweep onapproaching the ladies, a dark head and peculiar countenanceappeared, while the Doctor said, "Here is an old acquaintance, youngladies, whom I met dismounting at the White Hart, and have broughthome with me."

  "Mr. Peregrine Oakshott!" exclaimed Anne, feeling bound to offer inwelcome a hand, which he kissed after the custom of the day, whileLucy dropped a low and formal courtesy, and being already close tothe gate of the house occupied by her family, took her leave tillsupper-time.

  Even in the few steps before reaching home Anne was able to perceivethat a being very unlike the imp of seven years ago had returned,though still short in stature and very slight, with long dark hairhanging straight enough to suggest elf-locks, but his figure waswell proportioned, and had a finished air of high breeding andtraining. His riding suit was point device, from the ostrichfeather in his hat, to the toes of his well made boots, and hissword knew its place, as well as did those of the gentlemen thatAnne remembered at the Duke of York's when she was a little child.His thin, marked face was the reverse of handsome, but it was keen,shrewd, perhaps satirical, and the remarkable eyes were very brightunder dark eyebrows and lashes, and the thin lips, devoid of hair,showed fine white teeth when parted by a smile of gladness--at themeeting--though he was concerned to hear that Mrs. Woodford h
ad beenvery ill all the last spring, and had by no means regained herformer health, and even in the few words that passed it might begathered that Anne was far more hopeful than her uncle.

  She did indeed look greatly changed, though her countenance wassweeter than ever, as she rose from her seat by the fire and heldout her arms to receive the newcomer with a motherly embrace, whilethe expression of joy and affection was such as could never oncehave seemed likely to sit on Peregrine Oakshott's features. Theywere left together, for Anne had the final touches to put to thesupper, and Dr. Woodford was sent for to speak to one of theCathedral staff.

  Peregrine explained that he was on his way home, his father havingrecalled him on his brother's death, but he hoped soon to rejoin hisuncle, whose secretary he now was. They had been for the last fewmonths in London, and were thence to be sent on an embassy to theyoung Czar of Muscovy, an expedition to which he looked forward witheager curiosity. Mrs. Woodford hoped that all danger of infectionat Oakwood was at an end.

  "There is none for me, madam," he said, with a curious writhedsmile. "Did you not know that they thought they were rid of me whenI took the disease at seven years old, and lay in the loft over thehen-house with Molly Owens to tend me? and I believe it was thoughtto be fairy work that I came out of it no more unsightly thanbefore."

  "You are seeking for compliments, Peregrine; you are greatlyimproved."

  "Crooked sticks can be pruned and trained," he responded, with acourteous bow.

  "You are a travelled man. Let me see, how many countries have youseen?"

  "A year at Berlin and Konigsberg--strange places enough, speciallythe last, two among the scholars and high roofs of Leyden, half ayear at Versailles and Paris, another year at Turin, whence back foranother half year to wait on old King Louis, then to the Hague, andthe last three months at Court. Not much like buying and sellingcows, or growing wheat on the slopes, or lying out on a coldwinter's night to shoot a few wild fowl; and I have you to thank forit, my first and best friend!"

  "Nay, your uncle is surely your best."

  "Never would he have picked up the poor crooked stick save for you,madam. Moreover, you gave me my talisman," and he laid his hand onhis breast; "it is your face that speaks to me and calls me backwhen the elf, or whatever it is, has got the mastery of me."

  Somewhat startled, Mrs. Woodford would have asked what he meant, butthat intelligence was brought that Mr. Oakshott's man had broughthis mail, so that he had to repair to his room. Mrs. Woodford hadkept up some correspondence with him, for which his uncle's positionas envoy afforded unusual facilities, and she knew that on the wholehe had been a very different being from what he was at home. Once,indeed, his uncle had written to the Doctor to express his fullsatisfaction in the lad, on whom he seemed to look like a son, butfrom some subsequent letters she had an impression that he had gotinto trouble of some sort while at the University of Leyden, and shewas afraid that she must accept the belief that the wild elfishspirit, as he called it, was by no means extinct in him, any more,she said to herself, than temptation is in any human creature. Thequestion is, What is there to contend therewith?

  The guests were, however, about to assemble. The Doctor, in blackvelvet cap and stately silken cassock, sash, and gown, sailed downto receive them, and again greeted Peregrine, who emerged in blackvelvet and satin, delicate muslin cravat and cuffs, dainty silkstockings and rosetted shoes, in a style such as made the far tallerand handsomer Charles Archfield, in spite of gay scarlet coat,embroidered flowery vest, rich laced cravat, and thick shining browncurls, look a mere big schoolboy, almost bumpkin-like in contrast.However, no one did look at anything but the little creature whocould just reach to hang upon that resplendent bridegroom's arm.She was in glistening white brocade, too stiff and cumbrous for sotiny a figure, yet together with the diamonds glistening on her headand breast giving her the likeness of a fairy queen. The whitenesswas almost startling, for the neck and arms were like pearl in tint,the hair flowing in full curls on her shoulders was like shiningflax or pale silk just unwound from the cocoon, and the only reliefof colour was the deep blue of the eyes, the delicate tint of thelips, and the tender rosy flush that was called up by herpresentation to her hosts by stout old Sir Philip, in plum-colouredcoat and full-bottomed wig, though she did not blush half as much asthe husband of nineteen in his new character. Indeed, had it notbeen for her childish prettiness, her giggle would have beenunpleasing to more than Lady Archfield, who, broad and matronly,gave a courtesy and critical glance at Peregrine before subsidinginto a seat beside Mrs. Woodford.

  Lucy stood among a few other young people from the Close, watchingfor Anne, who came in, trim and bright, though still somewhatreddened in face and arms from her last attentions to the supper--anelaborate meal on such occasions, though lighter than the mid-dayrepast. There were standing pies of game, lobster and oysterpatties, creams, jellies, and other confections, on which Sir Philipand his lady highly complimented Anne, who had been engaged on themfor at least a couple of days, her mother being no longer able toassist except by advice.

  "See, daughter Alice, you will learn one day to build up a jelly aswell as to eat it," said Sir Philip good-humouredly, whereat thesmall lady pouted a little and said--

  "Bet lets me make shapes of the dough, but I won't stir the pans andget to look like a turkey-cock."

  "Ah, ha! and you have always done what you liked, my little madam?"

  "Of course, sir! and so I shall," she answered, drawing up herpretty little head, while Lady Archfield gave hers a boding shake.

  "Time, and life, and wifehood teach lessons," murmured Mrs. Woodfordin consolation, and the Doctor changed the subject by askingPeregrine whether the ladies abroad were given to housewifery.

  "The German dames make a great ado about their Wirthschaft, as theycall it," was the reply, "but as to the result! Pah! I know nothow we should have fared had not Hans, my uncle's black, been anexcellent cook; but it was in Paris that we were exquisitelyregaled, and our maitre d'hotel would discourse on ragouts andentremets till one felt as if his were the first of the sciences."

  "So it is to a Frenchman," growled Sir Philip. "French andFrenchifications are all the rage nowadays, but what will yourfather say to your science, my young spark?"

  The gesture of head and shoulder that replied had certainly beencaught at Paris. Mrs. Woodford rushed into the breach, asking aboutthe Princess of Orange, whom she had often seen as a child.

  "A stately and sightly dame is she, madam," Peregrine answered,"towering high above her little mynheer, who outwardly excels her innaught save the length of nose, and has the manners of a boor."

  "The Prince of Orange is the hope of the country," said Sir Philipseverely.

  Peregrine's face wore a queer satirical look, which provoked SirPhilip into saying, "Speak up, sir! what d'ye mean? We don'tunderstand French grins here."

  "Nor does he, nor French courtesies either," said Peregrine.

  "So much the better!" exclaimed the baronet.

  Here the little clear voice broke in, "O Mr. Oakshott, if I had butknown you were coming, you might have brought me a French doll inthe latest fashion."

  "I should have been most happy, madam," returned Peregrine; "butunfortunately I am six months from Paris, and besides, his honourmight object lest a French doll should contaminate the Dutchpuppets."

  "But oh, sir, is it true that French dolls have real hair that willcurl?"

  "Don't be foolish," muttered Charles impatiently; and she drew upher head and made an indescribably droll moue of disgust at him.

  Supper ended, the party broke up into old and young, the two eldergentlemen sadly discussing politics over their tall glasses of wine,the matrons talking over the wedding and Lady Archfield's stay inLondon at the parlour fire, and the young folk in a window, waitingfor the fiddler and a few more of the young people who were to jointhem in the dance.

  The Archfield ladies had kissed the hand of the Queen, and agreedwith Peregrine in admirati
on of her beauty and grace, though theydid not go so far as he did, especially when he declared that hereyes were as soft as Mistress Anne's, and nearly of the sameexquisite brown, which made the damsel blush and experience arevival of the old feeling of her childhood, as if he put her undera spell.

  He went on to say that he had had the good fortune to pick up andrestore to Queen Mary Beatrice a gold and coral rosary which she haddropped on her way to St. James's Palace from Whitehall. Shethanked him graciously, letting him kiss her hand, and asking him ifhe were of the true Church. "Imagine my father's feelings," headded, "when she said, 'Ah! but you will be ere long; I give it youas a pledge.'"

  He produced the rosary, handing it first to Anne, who admired thebeautiful filigree work, but it was almost snatched from her by Mrs.Archfield, who wound it twice on her tiny wrist, tried to get itover her head, and did everything but ask for it, till her husband,turning round, said roughly, "Give it back, madam. We want noPopish toys here."

  Lucy put in a hasty question whether Master Oakshott had seen muchsport, and this led to a spirited description of the homely earnestof wild boar hunting under the great Elector of Brandenburg, incontrast with the splendours of la chasse aux sangliers atFontainebleau with the green and gold uniforms, the fanfares on thecurled horns, the ladies in their coaches, forced to attend whetherill or well, the very boars themselves too well bred not to conformto the sport of the great idol of France. And again, he showed thediamond sleeve buttons, the trophies of a sort of bazaar held atMarly, where the stalls were kept by the Dauphin, Monsieur, the Dukeof Maine, Madame de Maintenon, and the rest, where the purchaseswere winnings at Ombre, made not with coin but with nominal sums,and other games at cards, and all was given away that was notpurchased. And again the levees, when the King's wig was handedthrough the curtains on a stick. Peregrine's profane mimicry of thestately march of Louis Quatorze, and the cringing obeisances of hiscourtiers, together with their strutting majesty towards their owninferiors, convulsed all with merriment; and the bride shrieked out,"Do it again! Oh, I shall die of laughing!"

  It was very girlish, with a silvery ring, but the elder ladieslooked round, and the bridegroom muttered 'Mountebank.'

  The fiddler arrived at that moment, and the young people paired off,the young couple naturally together, and Peregrine, to the surpriseand perhaps discomfiture of more than one visitor, securing Anne'shand. The young lady pupils of Madame knew their steps, and Lucydanced correctly, Anne with an easy, stately grace, CharlesArchfield performed his devoir seriously, his little wife friskedwith childish glee, evidently quite untaught, but Peregrine's lightnarrow feet sprang, pointed themselves, and bounded with trainedagility, set off by the tight blackness of his suit. He was likeone of the grotesque figures shaped in black paper, or as SirPhilip, looking in from the dining-parlour, observed, "like a light-heeled French fop."

  As a rule partners retained one another all the evening, but littleMrs. Archfield knew no etiquette, and maybe her husband had pushedand pulled her into place a little more authoritatively than shequite approved, for she shook him off, and turning round toPeregrine exclaimed--

  "Now, I will dance with you! You do leap and hop so high andtrippingly! Never mind her; she is only a parson's niece!"

  "Madam!" exclaimed Charles, in a tone of surprised displeasure; butshe only nodded archly at him, and said, "I must dance with him; hecan jump so high."

  "Let her have her way," whispered Lucy, "she is but a child, and itwill be better not to make a pother."

  He yielded, though with visible annoyance, asking Anne if she wouldput up with a poor deserted swain, and as he led her off muttering,"That fellow's friskiness is like to be taken out of him atOakwood."

  Meanwhile the small creature had taken possession of her chosenpartner, who, so far as size went, was far better suited to her thanany of the other men present. They were dancing something originaland unpremeditated, with twirls and springs, sweeps and bends,bounds and footings, just as the little lady's fancy prompted,perhaps guided in some degree by her partner's experience ofnational dances. White and black, they figured about, she withfloating sheeny hair and glistening robes, he trim and tight andjetty, like fairy and imp! It was so droll and pretty that talkersand dancers alike paused to watch them in a strange fascination,till at last, quite breathless and pink as a moss rosebud, Alicedropped upon a chair near her husband. He stood grim, stiff, andvexed, all the more because Peregrine had taken her fan and wasusing it so as to make it wave like butterfly's wings, while poorCharles looked, as the Doctor whispered to his father, far moreinclined to lay it about her ears.

  Sir Philip laughed heartily, for both he and the Doctor had been somuch entranced and amused as to be far more diverted at the lad'sdiscomfiture than scandalised at the bride's escapade, which theyviewed as child's play.

  Perhaps, however, he was somewhat comforted by her laterobservation, "He is as ugly as Old Nick, and looks like alwayslaughing at you; but I wish you could dance like him, Mr. Archfield,only then you wouldn't be my dear old great big husband, or sobeautiful to look at. Oh, yes, to be sure, he is nothing but askipjack such as one makes out of a chicken bone!"

  And Anne meanwhile was exclaiming to her mother, "Oh, madam! howcould they do such a thing? How could they make poor Charley marrythat foolish ill-mannered little creature?"

  "Hush, daughter, you must drop that childish name," said Mrs.Woodford gravely.

  Anne blushed. "I forgot, madam, but I am so sorry for him."

  "There is no reason for uneasiness, my dear. She is a mere child,and under such hands as Lady Archfield she is sure to improve. Itis far better that she should be so young, as it will be the moreeasy to mould her."

  "I hope there is any stuff in her to be moulded," sighed the maiden.

  "My dear child," returned her mother, "I cannot permit you to talkin this manner. Yes, I know Mr. Archfield has been as a brother toyou, but even his sister ought not to allow herself to discuss ordwell on what she deems the shortcomings of his wife."

  The mother in her prudence had silenced the girl; but none the lessdid each fall asleep with a sad and foreboding heart. She knew herchild to be good and well principled, but those early days of noticeand petting from the young Princesses of the House of York had neverfaded from the childish mind, and although Anne was dutiful,cheerful, and outwardly contented, the mother often suspected thatover the spinning-wheel or embroidery frame she indulged in daydreams of heroism, promotion, and grandeur, which might either fadeaway in a happy life of domestic duty or become temptations.

  Before going away next morning Peregrine entreated that MistressAnne might have the Queen's rosary, but her mother decidedlyrefused. "It ought to be an heirloom in your family," said she.

  He threw up his hands with one of his strange gestures.