CHAPTER X
SIR HERVEY TAKES THE FIELD
In his rooms at the corner house between Portugal Street and BoltonStreet, so placed that by glancing a trifle on one side of the ovalmirror before him he could see the Queen's Walk and the slopingpastures of the Green Park, Sir Hervey Coke was being shaved. A pileof loose gold which lay on the dressing-table indicated that theevening at White's had not been unpropitious. An empty chocolate cupand half-eaten roll stood beside the money, and, with Sir Hervey'sturban-cap and embroidered gown, indicated that the baronet, who inthe country broke his fast on beef and small beer, and began the daybooted, followed, in town, town fashions. To-day, however, early as itwas--barely ten--his wig hung freshly curled on the stand, and asnuff-coloured coat and long-flapped waistcoat, plainly laced, wereairing at the fire; signs that he intended to be abroad betimes, andon business.
Perhaps the business had to do with an open letter in his lap, atwhich the man who was shaving him cocked his eye inquisitively betweenstrokes. Or perhaps not, for Sir Hervey did not seem to heed thiscuriosity; but the valet had before had reason--and was presently tohave fresh reason--to know that his taciturn master saw more than hehad the air of seeing.
Suddenly Sir Hervey raised his hand. Watkyns, the valet, stood back."Bring it me!" Coke said.
The man had heard without hearing, as he now understood withoutexplanation. He went softly to the door, received a note, and broughtit to his master.
"An answer?"
"No, sir."
"Then finish."
The valet did so. When he had removed the napkin, Sir Hervey broke theseal, and, after reading three or four lines of the letter, raised hiseyes to the mirror. He met the servant's prying gaze, and abruptlycrumpled the paper in his hand. Then, "Watkyns," he said, in hisquietest tone.
"Sir?"
"ABOUT THE TWO GUINEAS--YOU STOLE THIS MORNING ..."]
"About the two guineas you--stole this morning. For this time you maykeep them; but in the future kindly remember two things."
The razor the man was cleaning fell to the floor. His face was asickly white; his knees shook under him. He tried to frame words, todeny, to say something, but in vain. He was speechless.
"Firstly," Coke continued blandly, "that I count the money I bringhome--at irregular intervals. Secondly, that two guineas is a largersum than forty shillings. Another time, Watkyns, I would take lessthan forty shillings. You will understand why. That is all."
The man, still pale and trembling, found his tongue. "Oh, sir!" hecried, "I swear, if you'll--if you'll forgive me----"
Coke stopped him. "That is all," he said, "that is all. The matter isat an end. Pick that up, go downstairs, and return in five minutes."
When the man was gone, Sir Hervey smoothed the paper, and, with a facethat grew darker and darker as he proceeded, read the contents of theletter from beginning to end. They were these:--
"Dear Sir,
"The honour you intended my family by an alliance with a person sonearly related to us as Miss Maitland renders it incumbent on me toinform you with the least possible delay of the unfortunate eventwhich has happened in our household, an event which, I need not say, Iregret on no account more than because it must deprive us of theadvantage we rightly looked to derive from that connection. At a latehour last evening the misguided (and I fear I must call her theunfortunate) girl, whom you distinguished by so particular a mark ofyour esteem, left the shelter of her home, it is now certain, to seekthe protection of a lover.
"While the least doubt on this point remained, I believed myselfjustified in keeping the matter even from you, but I have this morninglearned from a sure source--Lane, the mercer, in Piccadilly--that shewas set down about nine o'clock last night at a house in DaviesStreet, kept by a man of the name of Wollenhope, and theresidence--alas, that I should have to say it!--of the infamousIrishman whose attentions to her at one time attracted your notice.
"You will readily understand that from the moment we were certified ofthis we ceased to regard her as a part of our family; a choice soill-regulated can proceed only from a mind naturally inclined to vice.Resentment on your account no less than a proper care of ourhousehold, dictates this course, nor will any repentance on her part,nor any of those misfortunes to which as I apprehend her misconductwill surely expose her, prevail on us to depart from it.
"Forgive me, dear sir, if, under the crushing weight of thisdeplorable matter, I confine myself to the bare fact and itsconsequence, adding only the expression of our profound regret andconsideration.
"I have the honour to remain,
"Dear sir,
"Your most obedient, humble servant,
"J. NORTHEY."
"A d----d cold-blooded fish!" Sir Hervey muttered when he hadfinished, and he cast the letter on the table with a gesture ofdisgust. Then he sat motionless for several minutes, gazing atnothing, with a strange expression of pain in his eyes. Perhaps he wasthinking of the old mansion in Sussex, standing silent and lonely inits widespread park, awaiting--still awaiting, a mistress. Perhaps ofplans late made, soon wrecked, yet no less cherished. Perhaps of apale young face wide-browed and wilful, with eyes more swift to blamethan praise; eyes which he had seen seeking--seeking patheticallythey knew not what. Or perhaps he was thinking of the notorious LadyVane--of what she had been once, of what Sophia might be some day. Forhe swore softly, and the look of pain deepened in his eyes. And thenWatkyns returned.
Sir Hervey stood up. "You'll go to Wollenhope's," he said withoutpreface. "Wollenhope's, in Davies Street, and learn--you'll knowhow--whether the young lady who alighted there last night from a chairor coach is still there. And whether a person of the name ofHawkesworth is there. And whether he is at home. You will not tell myname. You understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"You've half an hour."
The man slid out of the room, his face wearing a look of relief,almost of elation. It was true then. He was forgiven!
After that Coke walked up and down, his watch in his hand, until thevalet returned. In the interval he spoke once only. "She is but achild!" he muttered, "she's but a child!" and he followed it with asecond oath. When his man returned, "Well?" he said, without lookinground.
"The young lady is not there, sir," Watkyns replied. "She arrived ateight last evening in a chair, and left a little after nine with ayoung gentleman."
"The person Hawkesworth?"
"No, sir."
"No?" Sir Hervey turned as he spoke, and looked at him.
"No, sir. Who it was the landlord of the house did not know or wouldnot tell me. He was not in the best of tempers, and I could get nomore from him. He told me that the young gentleman came in with hislodger about a quarter to nine."
"With Hawkesworth?"
"Yes, sir, and found the young lady waiting for them. That the twogentlemen quarrelled almost immediately, and that the young lady wentoff with the young gentleman. Who was very young, sir, not much morethan a boy."
"What address?"
"I could not learn, sir."
"Watkyns!"
"Yes, sir."
"You may take two guineas."
The man hesitated, his face scarlet. "If you please, sir," hemuttered, "I'll consider I have them."
"Very good. I understand you. Now dress me."
It took about five minutes, as London then lay, to walk from BoltonStreet to Davies Street, by way of Bolton Bow and Berkeley Square. Atthat hour, it was too early for fine gentlemen of Sir Hervey's stampto be abroad, and fine ladies were still abed, so that he fell in withno acquaintances. He had ascertained from Watkyns in what part of thestreet Wollenhope's house was situate, and, well within the prescribedspace of time, he found himself knocking at the door. It was openedpretty promptly by Mrs. Wollenhope.
"Does Mr. Hawkesworth lodge here?" Sir Hervey asked, without preamble.
"Yes, sir, he
does," the good woman answered, curtseying low at thesight of his feathered hat and laced waistcoat; and instinctively shelooked up and down the street in search of his chair or coach. "But heis out at present," she continued, her eyes returning to him. "He leftthe house about half an hour ago, your honour."
"Can you tell me where he may be found?"
"No, sir, I have no notion," Mrs. Wollenhope answered, wiping herhands on her apron.
"Still," Sir Hervey rejoined, "you can, perhaps, tell me the name ofthe young gentleman who was here last evening and took a lady away."
Mrs. Wollenhope raised her hands. "There!" she exclaimed. "I said weshould hear of it again! Not that we are to blame, no, sir, no! Exceptin the way of saving bloodshed! And as for the name, I don't know it.But the address now," dropping her voice and looking nervously behindher, "the young gentleman did give an address, and----" with a suddenchange of manner. "Are these with you, sir?"
Coke, following the direction of her gaze, turned about, and found tworough-looking men standing at his elbow. "No," he said, "they are not.What do you want, my men?"
"Lord, your honour, no hurry, we can wait till you've done," theforemost answered, tugging obsequiously at the uncocked flap of hishat; while his companion sucked his stick and stared. "Or after all,what's the odds? Time's money, and there's many go in front of uswould rather see our backs! Is the lady that came last night in thehouse, mistress?"
Sir Hervey stared, while Mrs. Wollenhope eyed the speaker with greatdisfavour. "No," she said, "if that's what you want, she is not!"
The man slowly expectorated on the ground. "Oh," he said, "that beingthe case, when did she leave? No harm in telling that, mistress!"
"She left within the hour," Mrs. Wollenhope snapped. "And that's allI'll tell you about her, so there! And take yourself off, please!"
"If the matter of half a crown, now----?"
Mrs. Wollenhope shook her head vigorously. "No!" she cried. "No! Idon't sell my lodgers. I know your trade, my man, and you'll getnothing from me."
The bailiff grinned and nodded. "All right," he said. "No need to growwarm! Easy does it. She gave us the slip yesterday, but we're bound tonab her by-and-by. We knew she was coming here, and if we'd waitedhere yesterday instead of at the coach office, we'd have took her.Come, Trigg, we'll to the Blue Posts; if she's had a coach or a chairwe'll hear of it there!" And with a "No offence, your honour!" and aclumsy salute, the two catchpolls lounged away, the one a pace behindthe other, his knobby stick still in his mouth, and his sharp eyeseverywhere.
Coke watched them go, and a more talkative man would have expressedhis astonishment. He fancied that he knew all that was to be known ofSophia's mode of life. She might have spent a little more than herallowance at Margam's or Lane's, might have been tempted by lace atDoiley's, or ribbons at the New Exchange. But a writ and bailiffs? Thething was absurd, and for a good reason. Mr. Northey was rich, yet notso rich as he was penurious; the tradesman did not exist, who wouldnot trust, to the extent of his purse, any member of that family. Cokewas certain of this; and that there was something here which he didnot understand. But all he said was "They are bailiffs, are they?"
"For sure, sir," Mrs. Wollenhope answered. "I've a neighbour knows oneby sight. All day yesterday they were hanging about the door, probingif the young lady was come. 'Twas on that account she surprised me,for I'd been led to look for a fine spendthrift madam, and when shecame--Lord ha' mercy, my husband's coming down! If you want theaddress," she continued in a lower tone, as Wollenhope appeared at thefoot of the stairs, "'twas in Clarges Row, at Grocott's."
"Thank you," Coke said.
"Grocott's," she repeated in a whisper. Then in a louder tone, "No,sir, I can't say when he will be at home."
"Thank you," Sir Hervey said; and having got what he wanted he did notstay to waste time with the man, but made the best of his way toCharles Street, into which the north end of Clarges Row, now ClargesStreet, opened at that date. Deeply engaged with the paramountquestion in his mind, the identity of the young man in whose companySophia had left Hawkesworth's lodgings, he forgot the bailiffs; and itwas with some annoyance that, on reaching the Row, he espied one ofthem lurking in a doorway in Charles Street. It was so plain that theywere watching him that Sir Hervey lost patience, turned, and madetowards the man to question him. But the fellow also turned on hisheel, and retreating with an eye over his shoulder, disappeared in thesquare. To follow was to be led from the scent; Coke wheeled again,therefore, and meeting a potboy who knew the street, he was directedto Grocott's. The house the lad pointed out was one of the oldest inthe Row; a small house of brick, the last on the east side goingnorth. Sir Hervey scanned the five windows that faced the street, butthey told him nothing. He knocked--and waited. And presently, gettingno answer, he knocked again. And again--the pot-boy looking on from alittle distance.
After that Coke stood back, saw that the windows were still withoutsign of life, and would have gone away--thinking to return in an houror two--but a woman came to the door of the next house, and told him,"the old man is at home, your honour; it is not ten minutes since hewas at the door." On which he knocked again more loudly andinsistently. Suspicions were taking shape in his mind. The houseseemed too quiet to be innocent.
He had his hand raised to repeat the summons once more, when he hearda dragging, pottering step moving along the passage towards him. Achain was put up, a key turned, the door was opened a little, a verylittle way. A pale, fat face, with small, cunning eyes, peered out athim. Unless he was mistaken, it was the face of a frightened man.
"I want to see Miss Maitland," Sir Hervey said.
"To be sure, sir," the man answered, while his small eyes scanned thevisitor sharply. "Is it about a clock?"
"No," Coke answered. "Are you deaf, man? I wish to see the young ladywho is here; who came last night."
"You're very welcome, I am sure, but there is no young lady here, yourhonour."
Sir Hervey did not believe it. The man's sly face, masking fear undera smirk, inspired no confidence; this talking over a chain, at thathour, in the daylight, of itself imported something strange.Apparently Grocott--for he it was--read the last thought in hisvisitor's eyes, for he dropped the chain and opened the door. "Was itabout a clock," he asked, the hand that held the door tremblingvisibly, "that the lady came?"
"No," Sir Hervey answered curtly; he was not deceived by this apparentobtuseness. "I wish, I tell you, to see the young lady who came herewith a gentleman last night. She came here from Davies Street."
"There is a lady here," the clock-maker answered, slowly. "But I don'tknow that she will see any one."
"She will see me," Coke replied with decision. "You don't want me tosummon her friends, and cause a scandal, I suppose?"
"Well, sir, for her friends," Grocott answered, smiling unpleasantly,"I know nothing about them, begging your honour's pardon. And, it isall one to me whom she sees. If you'll give me your name, sir, I'lltake it to her."
"Sir Hervey Coke."
"Dear, dear, I beg your honour's pardon, I am sure," Grocottexclaimed, bowing and wriggling obsequiously. "It's not to be thoughtthat she'll not see a gentleman of your honour's condition. But I'lltake her pleasure if you'll be so good as to wait a minute."
He left Coke standing on the threshold, and retreated up the passageto the door of a room on the left. Here he went in, closing the doorafter him. Sir Hervey waited until he was out of sight, then in threestrides he reached the same door, lifted the latch, and entered.
"'Twill take him finely, Sal!"
The words were in the air--they were all he caught, then silence; andhe stood staring. Abrupt as had been his entrance, he was the mostcompletely surprised of the three. For the third in the room, the ladyto whom Grocott's words were addressed, was not Sophia, but astranger; a tall, handsome woman, with big black eyes, fashionablydressed and fashionably painted. The surprise drew from her a hastyexclamation; she rose, her eyes sparkling with anger. Then, as SirHervey, recoveri
ng from his astonishment, bowed politely, she sat downagain with an assumption of fineness and languor. And, taking a fan,she began to fan herself.
"A thousand pardons, madam," Coke said. "I owe you every apology. Icame in under a misapprehension. I expected to find a friend here."
"That's very evident, I think, sir!" madam replied, tossing her head."And one you were in a hurry to see, I should fancy."
"Yes," Sir Hervey answered. He noted that the table, laid with moreelegance than was to be expected from Grocott's appearance, displayeda couple of chickens, pigeons, and a galantine, besides a prettysupply of bottles and flasks. "I trust you will pardon my mistake. Iwas informed that a young lady came here last evening with agentleman."
Madam flamed up. "And what, sir, is it to you if I did!" she cried.And she rose sharply.
"Your pardon! I did not mean----"
"I say, sir, what is it to you if I did?" she repeated in a tone ofthe utmost resentment. "If I did come from Davies Street, and comehere? I don't remember to have met you before, and I fail to see whatground you had for following me or for watching my movements. I amsure I never gave you any, and I am not used to impertinence. For therest, I am expecting some friends--Grocott?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Show this gentleman out. Or--or perhaps I am hasty," she continued,in a lower tone and with an abrupt return of good nature. "The lastthing I should wish to be to any gentleman," with a glance from a pairof handsome eyes. "If I have met you at any time--at my Lady Bellamy'sperhaps, sir?"
"No, ma'am, I think not."
"Or at that good-natured creature, Conyers'--dear delightful woman;you know her, I am sure?"
"No," Coke said, bluntly, "I have not the honour of her ladyship'sacquaintance; and I don't think I need trouble you farther. If thereis no one else in the house, it is evident I have made a mistake. Ioffer my apologies, ma'am, regretting extremely that I trespassed onyou."
"I occupy the only rooms," she answered drily. "And--Grocott, if thegentleman is quite satisfied--the door please! And send my woman tome."
Sir Hervey bowed, muttered a last word of apology, and with a lookround the room, which brought to light nothing new except a handsomemail that stood packed and strapped in a corner, he passed out. Afterall, his discovery explained the appearance of the bailiffs outsideWollenhope's. The over-dressed air and easy manners of the lady he hadseen were those of one not given to economy, nor, probably, tooparticular as to ways and means. It accounted, also, for the lady'sdeparture from Davies Street immediately after her arrival. ClearlyLane had misinformed the Northeys. It was not Sophia who had gone tothe house in Davies Street; nor Sophia who had left that house in agentleman's company. Then where was she?
As he paused in the passage revolving the question and seeking half acrown to give to the man whom he had suspected without reason, a dullsound as of a muffled hammer beating wood caught his ear. He had heardit indistinctly in the parlour--it appeared to come from the upperfloor; but he had given no heed to it. "What's that?" he asked, idly,as he drew out a coin.
"That noise, your honour?"
"Yes."
"My journeyman. Perhaps you'd like to see him," Grocott continued witha malicious grin. "May be he's the young lady you're looking for. Oh,make yourself at home, sir," he added bitterly. "A poor man mustn'tgrumble if his house isn't his own and his lodgers are insulted."
"Here," Coke said, and dropping the half-crown into the dirty handextended for it, he passed out. Instantly the door clanged behind him,the chain was put up, a bolt was shot; but although Sir Hervey stood amoment uncertain which way he should go, or what he should do next, hedid not notice these extreme precautions, nor the pale, ugly face oftriumph that watched him from the window as he turned south to go toArlington Street.
Sophia: A Romance Page 13
