CHAPTER XIII
THE WELCOME HOME
"Your Grace is very good to call," Mrs. Northey said, working her fanwith a violence that betrayed something of the restraint which she wasputting on her feelings. "But, of course, the mischief is done now,the girl is gone, and----"
"I know, my dear, I know," the duchess answered soothingly. "Believeme, I am almost as sorry as if she were one of my own daughters."
"La, for the matter of that, it may be yet!" Mrs. Northey answered,unable to behave herself longer. "Begging your Grace's pardon. Ofcourse, I hope not," she continued sourly, "but, indeed, and in truth,young ladies who show the road are very apt to follow it themselves."
"Indeed, I fear that is so; too often," her Grace answered patiently."Too often!" She had come prepared to eat humble pie, and was notgoing to refuse the dish.
"I hope, at any rate, that the young lady will take the lesson toheart!" Mrs. Northey continued, with a venomous glance at Lady Betty;who, much subdued, sat half-sullen and half-frightened on a stoolbeside and a little behind her mother. "I hope so for her own sake."
"It is for that reason I brought her," the duchess said with dignity."She has behaved naughtily, very naughtily. His Grace is so angry thathe will not see her. To-morrow she goes into the country, where shewill return to the schoolroom until we leave town. I hope that thatand the scandal she has brought upon us may teach her to be morediscreet in future."
"And more steady! I trust it may," Mrs. Northey said, biting her lipand looking daggers at the culprit. "I am sure she has done mischiefenough. But it is easier to do than to undo, as she would find to hersorrow if it were her own case."
"Very true! Very true, indeed! Do you hear, miss?" the duchess asked,turning and sharply addressing her daughter.
"Yes, ma'am," Lady Betty whispered meekly. Quick of fence as she waswith men, or with girls of her own age, she knew better than tocontradict her mother.
"Go, and sit in the window, then. No, miss, with your back to it. Andnow," the duchess continued, when Lady Betty had withdrawn out ofearshot, "tell me what you wish to be known, my dear. Anything I cando for the foolish child--she is very young, you know--I will do. And,if I make the best of it, I have friends, and they will also make thebest of it."
But Mrs. Northey's face was hard as stone. "There is no best to it,"she said.
"Oh, but surely in your sister's interest?" the duchess expostulated.
"Your Grace was misinformed. I have no sister," Mrs. Northey replied,her voice a trifle high, and her thin nostrils more pinched thanusual. "From the moment Miss Maitland left this house in such a way asto bring scandal on my husband's name, she ceased to be my sister.Lord Northey has claims upon us. We acknowledge them."
The duchess stared, but did not answer.
"My husband has claims upon me, I acknowledge them," Mrs. Northeycontinued with majesty.
The duchess still stared; her manner betrayed that she was startled.
"Well, of course," she said at last, "that is what we all wish otherpeople to do in these cases; for the sake of example, you know, and towarn the--the young. But, dear me," rubbing her nose reflectively withthe corner of her snuff-box, "it's very sad! I don't know, I reallydon't know that I should have the courage to do it--in Betty's casenow. His Grace would--would expect it, of course. But really I don'tknow!"
"Your Grace is the best judge in your own case," Mrs. Northey said,her breath coming a little quickly. "For our part," she added, lookingupward with an air of self-denial, "Mr. Northey and I have determinedto give no sanction to a connection so discreditable!"
The duchess had a vision of her own spoiled daughter laid ill in asix-shilling lodging, of a mother stealing to her under cover ofdarkness, and in his Grace's teeth; of a tiny baby the image of Bettyat that age. And she clutched her snuff-box tightly, "I suppose theman is--is impossible?" she said impulsively.
"He is quite impossible."
"Mr. Northey has not seen him?"
"Certainly not," Mrs. Northey exclaimed, with a virtuous shudder.
"But if she--if she were brought to see what she has done in its truelight?" the duchess asked weakly; her motherly instinct stillimpelling her to fight the young thing's battle.
"Not even then," Mrs. Northey replied with Roman firmness. "Under nocircumstances, no circumstances whatever, could Mr. Northey and Icountenance conduct such as hers."
"You are sure that there's--there's no mistake, my dear?"
"Not a shadow of a mistake!" madam answered with acrimony. "We havetraced her to the man's lodging. She reached it after dark, andunder--under the most disgraceful circumstances."
Mrs. Northey referred to the arrest by bailiffs, the news of which hadreached Arlington Street through Lane the mercer. But the duchess tookher to mean something quite different; and her Grace was shocked.
"Dear, dear," she said in a tone of horror; and looking instinctivelyat her daughter, she wished that Lady Betty had not seen so much ofthe girl, wished still more fervently that she had not mixed herselfup with her flight. "I am infinitely sorry to hear it," she said."Infinitely sorry! I confess I did not think her that kind of girl. Mydear, you have indeed my sympathy."
Mrs. Northey, though she knew quite well what the duchess wasthinking, shook her head as if she could add much more, but would not;and the duchess, her apologies made, rose to take leave; resolved togive her daughter such a wigging by the way as that young lady hadnever experienced. But while they stood in the act of making theiradieux, Mr. Northey entered; and his dolorous head shaking, whichwould have done credit to a father's funeral, detained her so long,that she was still where he found her, when an exclamation from LadyBetty, who had profited by her mother's engrossment to look out of thewindow, startled the party.
"Oh, la, ma'am, here she is!" the girl cried. "I vow and declare sheis!"
"Betty!" her Grace cried sharply. "Remember yourself. What do youmean? Come, we must be going."
"But, ma'am, she's at the door," Lady Betty replied with a giggle. Andturning and thrusting her muff into her mouth--as one wellunderstanding the crisis--she looked over it at the party, her eyesbright with mischief.
Mrs. Northey's face turned quite white. "If this--if your daughtermeans that the misguided girl is returning here," she cried, "I willnot have it."
"It is not to be thought of!" Mr. Northey chimed in. "She would nothave the audacity," he added more pompously, "after her behaviour."And he was moving to the window--while the kind-hearted duchess wishedherself anywhere else--when the door opened, and the servantannounced, "Sir Hervey Coke!"
The duchess gave vent to a sigh of relief, while the Northeys lookeddaggers at Lady Betty, the author of the false alarm. Meantime Cokeadvanced, his hat under his arm. "I am really no more than anambassador," he said gaily. "My principal is downstairs waiting leaveto ascend. Duchess, your humble servant! Lady Betty, yours--you growprettier every day. Mrs. Northey, I have good news for you. You willbe glad to hear that you were misinformed as to the object of yoursister's departure from the house--about which you wrote to me."
"Misinformed!" Mrs. Northey exclaimed with a freezing look. "I wasmisinformed, sir?"
"Completely, at the time you wrote to me," Sir Hervey answered,smiling on the party. "As you will acknowledge in one moment."
"On whose authority, pray?" with a sniff.
"On mine," Coke replied. "'Twas an odd coincidence that you wrote tome, of all people."
"Why, sir, pray?"
"Because----" he began; and there he broke off and turned to theduchess, who had made a movement as if she would withdraw. "No," hesaid, "I hope your Grace will not go. The matter is not private."
"Private?" Mrs. Northey cried shrilly--she could control her feelingsno longer. "The hussy has taken good care it shall not be that!Private, indeed? It is not her fault if there is a man in the town whois ignorant of her disgrace!"
"Nay, ma'am, softly, if you please," Sir Herve
y interposed, with theleast touch of sternness in his tone. "You go too far."
Mrs. Northey glared at him; she was pale with anger. "What?" shecried. "Hoity-toity! do you think I shall not say what I like about myown sister?"
"But not about my wife!" he answered firmly.
She stepped back as if he had aimed a blow at her, so great was hersurprise. "What?" she shrieked. "Your wife?" While the others lookedat him, thunderstruck; and Lady Betty, who, on the fringe of thegroup, was taking in all with childish dilated eyes, uttered a screamof delight.
"Your wife?" Mr. Northey gasped.
"Precisely," Coke answered. "My wife."
But Mrs. Northey could not, would not, believe it. She thought that hewas lending himself to some cunning scheme; some plan for bringingabout a reconciliation. "Your wife?" she repeated. "Do you mean thatSophia, my sister----"
"Preferred a quiet wedding _a deux_," he answered, helping himself toa pinch of snuff, and smiling slightly, as at the recollection. "YourGrace will understand," he continued, turning with easy politeness tothe duchess, "how it amused me to read Mrs. Northey's letter undersuch circumstances."
But Mrs. Northey was furious. "If this be true," she said hoarsely,"but I do not believe it is, why did you do it? Tell me that? Until Iknow that I shall not believe it!"
Sir Hervey shrugged his shoulders. "Mr. Northey will believe it, I amsure," he said, with a look in that gentleman's direction. "For therest, ma'am, it was rather Lady Coke's doing than mine. She heard thather brother was about to make a ruinous marriage, and discovered thathe was actually in the company and under the influence of theIrishman, Hawkesworth, whom you know. There were those who should moreproperly have made the effort to save him, but these failed him; andthe result of it was, thanks to her, he was saved. Thanks to her, andto her only," Sir Hervey repeated with a look, beneath which Mr.Northey quailed, and his wife turned green with rage, "since, as Isaid, those who should have interfered did not. But this effected, andKeith, who should have married her brother, being in attendance--well,we thought it better to avail ourselves of his services. 'Twould havebeen a pity, your Grace, to lose a guinea," Coke added, his eyestwinkling, as he turned to the duchess. "It was the best instance I'veever known of 'a guinea in time saves ninety!'"
The duchess laughed heartily. "'Twas cheap at any rate, Sir Hervey,"she said. "I am sure for my part I congratulate you."
"I don't!" Mrs. Northey cried, before he could answer. "She hasbehaved abominably! Abominably!" she repeated, her voice quiveringwith spite. For, strange human nature! here was the match made, onmaking which she had set her heart; yet so far was she from beingpleased, or even satisfied, she could have cried with mortification."She has behaved infamously!"
"Tut, tut!" Sir Hervey cried.
But the angry woman was not to be silenced. "I shall say it!" shepersisted. "I think it, and I shall say it."
"Of Miss Maitland, as often as you please," he retorted, bowing. "OfLady Coke only at your husband's peril. Of course, if you do not wishto receive her, ma'am, that is another matter."
But on this Mr. Northey interposed. "No, no," he cried, fussily. "Mrs.Northey is vexed, if I may say so, not unnaturally vexed by the lackof confidence in her, which Sophia has shown. But that--that is quiteanother thing from--from disowning her. No, no, let me be the first towish you happiness, Coke!" And with an awkward essay at heartiness,and an automaton-like grin, he shook Sir Hervey by the hand. "I'llfetch her up," he continued, "I'll fetch her up! My dear, ahem!Congratulate Sir Hervey. It is what we wanted from the first, andthough it has not come about quite as we expected, nothing could giveus greater pleasure. It's an alliance welcome in every respect. Yes,yes, I'll bring her up."
He hurried away, while the duchess hastened to add a few words offurther congratulation, and Mrs. Northey stood silent and waiting, herface now red, now pale. She had every reason to be satisfied, forexcept in the matter of Tom--and there Sophia had thwarted her selfishplans--all had turned out as she wished. But not through her, therewas the rub! On the contrary, she had been duped, she felt it. She hadbeen tricked into betraying how little heart she had, how littleaffection for her sister; and bitterly she resented the exposure.
But even her face cleared in a degree when Sophia appeared. As thegirl moved forward on Sir Hervey's arm--who went gallantly to the doorto meet her--so far from exhibiting the blushing pride of a woman vainof her conquest, glorying in the trick she had played the world, sheshowed but the timid, frightened face of a shrinking child. Her eyessought the floor, nervously; her bearing was the farthest removed fromexultation it was possible to conceive. So different, indeed, was shefrom all they had looked to see in the new Lady Coke, the heroine ofthis odd romance, that even Mrs. Northey found the cold reconciliationon which her husband was bent more feasible, the frigid kiss morepossible than she had thought; while to the duchess the bride's aspectseemed so unnatural, that she drew Sir Hervey aside and questioned himkeenly.
"What have you done to her?" she said. "That a runaway bride? Why, ifshe had been dragged to the altar and sold to a Jew broker she couldhardly look worse, or more down-hearted! Sho, man, what is it?"
"She's troubled about her brother," Coke explained elaborately. "She'ssaved him from a wretched match, but he's taken himself off, and wedon't know where to look for him."
The good-natured duchess struck him on the shoulder with her fan."Fudge!" she cried. "Her brother? I don't believe it."
"My dear duchess," Coke remonstrated. "Half a dozen witnesses areprepared to swear to it."
"I don't believe it any the more for that!"
"You think she's unhappy?"
"I am sure of it."
"Well," Sir Hervey answered, and for a moment a gleam which theduchess could not interpret, shone in his eyes, "wait six months! Ifshe is not happy then--I mean," he added, hastily correcting himself,"if she does not look happy then, I have made a mistake."
The duchess stared. "Or she?"
"No, I," he answered, almost in a whisper. "I only, duchess."
She nodded, understanding somewhat; not all. "Oh!" she said; andlooked him over, considering what kind of a lover she would havethought him in the old days when all men presented themselves inthat capacity, and were measured by maiden eyes. She found himsatisfactory. "What are your plans?" she said.
"I am going to Coke Hall to-night, to give the necessary orders. Thereare changes to be made."
"Quick work!" she said smiling. "Leaving her?"
"Yes."
"You are not killing her with kindness then, my friend?"
"She will follow in two or three days."
"In the meantime--does she stay here?" she asked; with a glance roundthe room that said much.
"Well, no," Sir Hervey answered slowly, his face growing hard. "Idon't quite know--it has all been very sudden, you know."
"I'll take her if you like," the duchess said impulsively.
Sir Hervey's face grew pink. "You dear, good, great lady!" he said."Will you do that?"
"For you, I will," she said, "if it will help you?"
"Will it not," he cried; and, stooping over her hand, he kissed itafter the fashion of the day; but a little more warmly--we were goingto say, a little more warmly than the duke would have approved.
While they talked, Mrs. Northey had left the room, to take orderfor "my lady's" packing; and Mr. Northey, who was dying for a wordwith her on the astonishing event, had followed, after murmuring anapology and an indistinct word about a carriage. Sophia was thus left_tete-a-tete_ with the one person in the room who had not approachedher, or offered felicitation or compliment; but who now, afterassuring herself by a hurried glance that the duchess was out ofhearing, hastened to deliver her mind.
"Wait till you want to elope again, miss," Lady Betty hissed, in afierce whisper. "And see if I'll help you! Oh, you deceitful cat, you!To trick me with a long story of your lover and your wrongs, and yourdear, dear Irishman! And then to come back 'my lady,' and we're all tobow down t
o you. Oh, you false, humdrum creature!"
Sophia, in spite of her depression, could not refrain from a smile."My dear Lady Betty," she whispered gratefully. "I shall ever rememberyour kindness."
"Don't Lady Betty me, miss!" the girl retorted, thrusting her pretty,eager face close to the other's. "Do you know that I am to go into thecountry, ma'am? and be put to school again, and the blackboard; andlose the Ridotto on the 17th, and the frolic at the King's House MissHam had arranged--and all for helping you? All for helping you, ma'am!See if I ever do a good-natured thing again, as long as I live!"
"My poor Lady Betty! I am so sorry!"
"But that's not all," the angry little beauty cried. "Didn't you leadme to think, ma'am--oh yes, madam, you are now," with a swift littlecurtsey--"to think that 'twas all for love and the world lost! That'twas a dear delicious elopement, almost as good as running awaymyself! And that all the town would be wild to hear of it, and everygirl envy me for being in it! Romance? And the world well lost! Oh,you deceitful madam! But see if I ever speak to you again! That's all,my lady!"
Sophia, with a smile that trembled on the brink of tears, was about tocrave her pardon, when the approach of the duchess and Sir Herveyclosed her mouth. "Your sister has gone upstairs?" her Grace said.
"Only to take order for my packing," Sophia answered.
"I have just been talking to your husband," the duchess continued, andsmiled faintly at the hot blush that at the word rose to Sophia'sbrow. "If you are willing, my dear, you shall keep Lady Betty companyuntil he returns."
"Returns?" Sophia exclaimed.
"From Coke Hall," Sir Hervey interposed glibly. "Whither I must goto-night, sweet, to give orders for our reception. In the meantime theduchess has most kindly offered to take care of you, and has alsopromised that when you go into the country Lady Betty shall go withyou and keep you company until the duke leaves town."
The tears rose in Sophia's eyes at this double, this wonderful proofof his thought for her; and through her tears her eyes thanked himthough it was only by a swift glance, averted as soon as perceived. Ina tremulous voice she made her acknowledgments to the duchess. It wasmost kind of her Grace. And any--any arrangement that Sir Herveythought fit to make for her--would be to her liking.
"Dear me," the duchess said laughing, "a most obedient wife. My dear,how long do you think you will play the patient Grizel?"
Poor Sophia drooped, blushing under the question, but was quicklyrelieved by Lady Betty. "Oh la!" the young lady cried, "am I really,really, to go with her? When ma'am? When?"
"When I choose," the duchess answered sharply. "That's enough for you.Thank your stars, and Sir Hervey, miss, that it's not back to theschoolroom, as it was to be."
"Yes, ma'am," Lady Betty murmured obediently.
But a little later, when they were alone together in her room, shefell upon Sophia, and pinched and tweaked her in a way that implied afull pardon. "Oh, you double-faced madam!" she cried. "You sly thing!But I'll be even with you! I'll make love to him before your eyes, seeif I don't! After all I like him better than O'Rourke! You remember:
"'O'Rourke's noble fare Will ne'er be forgot, By those who were there And those who were not!'
For Coke, he's as grave as grave! But he's a dear for all that!"
"A dear!" Sophia repeated, opening her eyes.
"Yes, a dear! Not that you need be proud, my lady! I'll soon have hisheart from you, see if I don't. What'll you say to that?"
But Lady Coke, from whom Sir Hervey had parted gravely a few minutesbefore, did not answer. She sat silent, conjuring up his face--in anew light. She did not acknowledge that he was a dear. She felt thesame shrinking from him, the same fear of him, that had depressed herfrom the moment she knew the knot tied, the thing done. But she beganto see him in a new light. The duchess liked him, and Lady Bettythought him a dear? Would Lady Betty--even Lady Betty have taken him?
* * * * *
At that moment, in the little house at the end of Clarges Row, threepersons sat vowing vengeance over Tom's wedding feast. One with therage of a gamester baffled by an abnormal run of the cards, beaten bythe devil's own luck, breathed naught but flames and fury, pistols,and nose-slitting. The second, who stormed and wept by turns, brokethings with her hands and gnawed them, in futile passion, with herstrong white teeth, could have kissed him for that last word. Thethird, mulcted in purse, and uncertain on whom to turn, chatteredimpotent, senile curses. "I shall die a beggar!" he cried; and cursedhis companions. "I shall die in a ditch! But I'll not die alone, I'llnot be the only one to suffer!"
"By G----d, I'll show you better than that!" the Irishman answeredbetween oaths. "They are three and we are three. Wait! I'll have themwatched every minute of the day, and by-and-by it'll be our turn. Alittle money----"
"Money!" old Grocott shrieked, clawing the air. And he got uphurriedly, and sat down again. "Always money! More money! But you'llhave none of mine! Not a farthing! Not a farthing more!"
"Why not, fool, if it will bring in a thousand per cent.," Hawkesworthgrowled. The thin veneer of fashion that had duped poor Sophia wasgone. With the loss of the venture, on which he had staked his all,the man stood forth a plain unmitigated ruffian. "Why not?" hecontinued, bending his brows. "D'you think anything is to be donewithout money? And I shall risk more than money, old skinflint!"
The woman looked at the man, her eyes gleaming; her face, under thered that splashed it, was livid. "What'll you do?" she muttered,"what'll you do?" She had been--almost a lady. The chance would never,never, never recur! When she thought of what she had lost, and hownearly she had won it, she was frantic. "What'll you do?" sherepeated.
"Hark, I hear the sound of coaches The hour of attack approaches, And turns our lead to gold!"
Hawkesworth hummed for answer. "Gold is good, but I'll wait myopportunity, and I'll have gold and--a pound of flesh!"
"Ah!" she said thirstily. And then to her father: "Do you hear, oldman? You'll give him what he wants."
"I'll not!" he screamed. "I shall die a beggar! I shall die in aditch! I tell you I----" his voice suddenly quavered off as he met hisdaughter's eyes. He was silent.
"I think you will," she said.
"I think so," the Irishman murmured grimly.
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