The Lady of Lynn

by Walter Besant

  CHAPTER XXXI

  THE "SOCIETY" AGAIN

  The "Society" continued to meet, but irregularly, during this periodof excitement when everybody was busy making money out of the company,or joining in the amusements, or looking on. The coffee houseattracted some of the members; the tavern others; the gardens or thelong room others. It must be confessed that the irregularities ofattendance and the absences and the many new topics of discoursecaused the evenings to be much more animated than of old, when therewould be long periods of silence, broken only by some reference to thearrival or departure of a ship, the decease of a townsman, or thechange in the weather.

  This evening the meeting consisted, at first, of the vicar and themaster of the school only.

  "We are the faithful remnant," said the vicar, taking his chair. "Themayor, no doubt, is at the coffee house, the alderman at the tavern,and the doctor in the long room. The captain, I take it, as at theelbow of his noble friend."

  The master of the school hung up his hat and took his usual place.Then he put his hand into his pocket.

  "I have this day received ..."

  At the same moment the vicar put his hand into his pocket and began inthe same words.

  "I have this day received ..."

  Both stopped. "I interrupted you, Mr. Pentecrosse," said the vicar.

  "Nay, sir; after you."

  "Let us not stand on ceremony, Mr. Pentecrosse. What have youreceived?"

  "I have received a letter from London."

  "Mine is from Cambridge. You were about to speak of your letter?"

  "It concerns Sam Semple, once my pupil, now secretary to the LordFylingdale, who has his quarters overhead."

  "What does your correspondent tell you about Sam? That he is the equalof Mr. Pope and the superior to Mr. Addison, or that his verses areechoes--sound without sense--trash and pretence? Though they cost me aguinea."

  "The letter is a reply I addressed to my cousin, Zackary Pentecrosse,a bookseller in Little Britain. I asked him to tell me if he couldlearn something of the present position and reputation of Sam Semple,who gives himself, I understand, great airs at the coffee house as awit of the first standing and an authority in matters of taste. Withyour permission I will proceed to read aloud the portion whichconcerns our poet. Here is the passage."

  "You ask me to tell you what I know of the poet Sam Semple. I do notknow, it is true, all the wits and poets; but I know some, and theyknow others, so one can learn something about all those who frequentDolly's and the Chapter House, and the other coffee houses frequentedby the poets. None of them, at first, knew or had heard of the name.At last one was found who had seen a volume bearing this name, andpublished by subscription. 'Sir,' he said, ''tis the veriest trash; aschoolboy should be trounced for writing such bad verses.' But, Iasked him, 'He is said to be received and welcomed by the wits.' 'Theymust be,' he replied, 'the wits of Wapping, or the poets of TurnagainLane. The man is not known anywhere.' So with this I had to becontented for a time. Then I came across one who knew this would-bepoet. 'I was once myself,' he said, 'at my last guinea when I met Mr.Samuel Semple. He was in rags, and he was well-nigh starving. I gavehim a sixpenny dinner in a cellar, where I myself was dining at thetime. He told me that he had spent the money subscribed for his book,instead of paying the printer; that he was dunned and threatened forthe debt; that if he was arrested, he must go the fleet or to one ofthe compters; that he must then go to the common side, and wouldstarve. In a word, that he was on his last legs. These things he toldme with tears, for, indeed, cold and hunger--he had no lodging--hadbrought him low. After he had eaten his dinner and borrowed a shillinghe went away, and I saw him no more for six months, when I met him inCovent Garden. He was now dressed in broadcloth, fat, and in goodease. At first he refused to recognise his former companion in misery.But I persisted. He then told me that he had been so fortunate as tobe of service to my Lord Fylingdale, into whose household he hadentered. He, therefore, defied his creditors, and stood at bed andboard at the house of his noble patron. Now, sir, it is very wellknown that any service rendered to this nobleman must be of a base anddishonourable nature. Such is the character of this most profligate oflords. A professed rake and a most notorious gambler. He is no longeradmitted into the society of those of his own rank; he frequents hellswhere the play is high, but the players are doubtful. He is said toentertain decoys, one of whom is an old ruined gamester, named SirHarry Malyns, and another, a half-pay captain, a bully and a sharper,who calls himself a colonel. He is to be seen at the house of the LadyAnastasia, the most notorious woman in London, who every night keepsthe bank at hazard for the profit of this noble lord and hisconfederates. It is in the service of such a man that Mr. Semple hasfound a refuge. What he fulfills in the way of duty I know not.' Igive you, cousin, the words of my informant. I have since inquired ofothers, and I find confirmation everywhere of the notorious characterof Lord Fylingdale and his companions. Nor can I understand whatservice a poet can render to a man of such a reputation living such alife."

  "Do you follow, sir?" my father asked, laying down the letter, "orshall I read it again?"

  "Nay, the words are plain. But, Mr. Pentecrosse, they are seriouswords. They concern very deeply a certain lady whom we love. LordFylingdale has been with us for a month. He bears a character, here,at least, of the highest kind. It is reported, I know not with whattruth, that he is actually to marry the captain's ward, Molly. Thereis, however, no doubt that Molly's fortune has grown so large as tomake her a match for any one, however highly placed."

  "I fear that it is true."

  "Then, what foundation has this gentleman for so scandalous a report?"

  "Indeed, I do not know. My cousin, the book-seller, expressly saysthat he has no knowledge of Sam Semple."

  "Mr. Pentecrosse, I am uneasy. I hear that the gentlemen of thecompany are circulating ugly rumours about one Colonel Lanyon, who hasbeen playing high and has won large sums--larger than any of thecompany can afford to lose. They have resolved to demand and awaitexplanations. There are whispers also which concern Lord Fylingdale aswell. These things make one suspicious. Then I also have received aletter. It is in reply to one of my own addressed to an old friend atCambridge. My questions referred to the great scholar and eminentdivine who takes Greek for Hebrew.

  "You ask me if I know anything about one Benjamin Purdon, clerk inHoly Orders. There can hardly be two persons of that name, both inHoly Orders. The man whom I know by repute is a person of somewhatslight stature, his head bigger than befits his height. He hath a loudand hectoring voice; he assumes, to suit his own purposes, thepossession of learning and piety. Of theological learning he has none,so far as I know. Of Greek art, combined with modern manners, he issaid to be a master. '_Inglese Italianato Diavolo Incarnato_' isthe proverb. He was formerly tutor on the grand tour to the young LordFylingdale, whom he led into those ways of corruption and profligacywhich have made that nobleman notorious. He is also the reputed authorof certain ribald verses that pass from hand to hand among the basersort of our university scholars. I have made inquiries about him, withthese results. It is said that where Lord Fylingdale is found thisworthy ecclesiastic is not far off. There was last year a scandal atBath, in which his name was mentioned freely. There was also--but thisis enough for one letter!"

  The vicar read parts of this letter twice over, so as to lend thewords greater force. "The man says publicly that he was tutor to LordFylingdale on the grand tour. I have myself heard him. On one occasionhe proclaimed with loud voice the private virtues of his patron. Sir,I very much fear that we have discovered a nest of villains. Pray Godwe be not too late."

  "Amen," said my father. "But what can we do?"

  "Ay, what can we do? To denounce Lord Fylingdale on this evidencewould be impossible. To allow this marriage to take place withoutwarning the captain would be a most wicked thing."

  "Let us send for Jack," said my father. "The boy is only a simplesailor, but he loves the girl. He will now be aboard hi
s ship."

  It is not far from the "Crown" to the quay, nor from the quay to anyof the ships in port. I was sitting in the cabin, melancholy enough,about eight o'clock or so, just before the sunset gun fired from theredoubt, when I heard a shout--"_Lady of Lynn_, ahoy!" You may be surethat I obeyed the summons with alacrity.

  No one else had yet arrived at the "Crown." The vicar laid bothletters before me. Then, as when one strikes a spark in the tinder andthe match ignites, flaming up, and the darkness vanishes, so did thescheme of villainy unfold itself--not all at once--one does not at oneglance comprehend a conspiracy so vile. But part, I say, I didunderstand.

  "Sir," I gasped. "This is more opportune than you suspect. To-morrowmorning--at six--at St. Nicholas Church they are to be marriedsecretly. Oh! a gambler--a rake--one who has wasted his patrimony--tomarry Molly, our Molly! Sir, you will interfere--you will dosomething. It is the villain Sam; he was always a liar--a cur--avillain."

  "Steady, boy, steady!" said my father. "It helps not to call names."

  "It is partly revenge. He dared to make love to Molly three years ago.The captain cudgelled him handsomely--and I was there to see. It isrevenge in part. He hath brought down this noble lord to marry anheiress knowing the misery he is preparing for her. Oh! Sam--if I hadthee here!"

  "Steady, boy," said my father again.

  "Who spread abroad the many virtues of this noble villain? SamSemple--in his service--a most base and dishonourable service. Mr.Purdon, the man who writes ribald verses." I thought of the LadyAnastasia, but refrained. She at least had nothing to do with thismarriage. So far, however, there was much explained.

  "What shall we do?"

  "We must prevent the marriage of to-morrow. The captain knows nothingof it. Lord Fylingdale persuaded Molly. He cannot marry her publiclybecause he says that he cannot join a wedding feast with people somuch below him. Molly shall not keep that engagement if I have to lockthe door and keep the key."

  "Better than that, Jack," said the vicar. "Take these two letters.Show them to Molly and ask her to wait while the captain makesinquiries. If Lord Fylingdale is an honourable man he will courtinquiry. If not, then we are well rid of a noble knave."

  I took the letters and ran across the empty market-place. On my way Isaw the captain. He was walking towards the "Crown" with hanging head.Let us first deal with him.

  He did not observe me, being in gloomy meditation, but passed me byunnoticed, entered the "Crown," hung up his hat on its usual peg, andput his stick in its accustomed corner. Then he took his seat andlooked round.

  "I am glad," he said, "that there are none present except you two. Myfriends, I am heavy at heart."

  "So are we," said the vicar. "But go on, captain."

  "You have heard, perhaps, a rumour of what has been arranged."

  "There are rumours of many kinds. The place is full of rumours. It isrumoured that a certain Colonel Lanyon is a sharper. It is alsorumoured that Sam Semple is a villain. It is further rumoured that theReverend Benjamin Purdon is a disgrace to the cloth. And there is yetanother rumour. What is your rumour, captain?"

  "Lord Fylingdale proposes to marry Molly. And I have accepted. And shehas accepted. But it was to be a profound secret."

  "It is so profound a secret that the company at the gardens thisevening are talking about nothing else."

  The captain groaned. "I have received a letter," he said. "I do notbelieve it, but the contents are disquieting. There is no signature.Read it."

  The vicar read it:

  "CAPTAIN CROWLE,--Sir,--You are a very simple old man; you are so ignorant of London and of the fashionable world that you do not even know that Lord Fylingdale, to whom you are about to give your ward, is the most notorious gambler, rake, and profligate in the whole of that quarter where the people of fashion and of quality carry on their profligate lives. In the interests of innocence and virtue make some inquiry into the truth of this statement before laying your lovely ward in the arms of the villain who has come to Lynn with no other object than to secure her fortune."

  "It is an anonymous letter," said the vicar. "But there is somethingto be said in support of it. From what source did you derive yourbelief in the virtues of this young nobleman?"

  "From Sam Semple."

  "Who is in the service of his lordship. I know not what he does forhim, but if he is turned out of that service he will infallibly beclapped into a debtor's prison."

  "There is also that grave and reverend divine----"

  "The man Purdon. He is notorious for writing ribald verses, and forleading a life that is a disgrace to his profession."

  "There is also the Lady Anastasia."

  "I know nothing about her ladyship, except that she keeps the bank, asthey call it, every evening, and that the gaming table allures many totheir destruction."

  "My friend," said the captain, "what am I to do?"

  "You must make inquiry. You must tell Lord Fylingdale that things havebeen brought to you; that you cannot believe them--if, as is possible,you do not; but that you must make inquiries before trusting your wardto his protection. You are her guardian, captain."

  "I am more than her guardian; I love her better than if she was my ownchild."

  "We know you do, captain. Therefore, write a letter to him instantly.There is yet time to prevent the marriage. Tell him these things. Saythat you must have time to make these inquiries. I will help you withthe letter. And tell him, as well, that you must have time to draw upsettlements. If he is honest, he will consent to this investigationinto his private character. If he wants Molly, and not her money bag,he will at once agree to the settlement of her fortune upon herself."

  "I am an old fool, I suppose," said the captain. "I have believedeverything and everybody. Yet I cannot--no, my friends, I cannot thinkthat this man, so proud, so brave, who risked his life for Molly, iswhat this letter says."

  "Other letters say the same thing. Now, captain, let us write."

  The letter, which was dictated by the vicar, was duly written, signed,and sealed. Then it was sent upstairs, without the delay of a moment,to his lordship's private room.