CHAPTER XIV
THE FIRST STAGE
A week later the sun of a bright May morning shone on King's Square,once known as Monmouth, now as Soho, Square. Before the duke's townhouse on the east side of the Square--on the left of the King's Statuewhich then, and for many years to come, faced Monmouth House--atravelling carriage waited, attended by a pair of mounted grooms, andwatched at a respectful distance by a half-circle of idle loungers. Itwas in readiness to convey Lady Coke and Lady Betty Cochrane intoSussex. On the steps of the house lounged no less a person than theduke himself; who, unlike his proud Grace of Petworth, was at no painsto play a part. On the contrary, he sunned himself where he pleased,nor thought it beneath him to display the anxiety on his daughter'saccount which would have become a meaner man. He knew, too, what hewas about in the present matter; neither the four sturdy big-bonedhorses, tossing their tasselled heads, nor the pair of armedoutriders, nor Watkyns, Sir Hervey's valet, waiting hat in hand at thedoor of the chariot, escaped his scrutiny. He had the tongue of abuckle secured here, and a horse's hoof lifted there--and his Gracewas right, there was a stone in it. He inquired if the relay atCroydon was ordered, he demanded whether it was certain that SirHervey's horses would meet them at Lewes. Finally--for he knew thatpart of the country--he asked what was the state of the roads beyondGrinstead, and whether the Ouse was out.
"Not to hurt, your Grace," Watkyns who had come up with the carriageanswered. "The roads will be good if no more rain falls, if your Gracepleases."
"You will make East Grinstead about five, my man?"
"'Tween four and five, your Grace, we should."
"And Lewes--by two to-morrow?"
The servant was about to answer when the duchess and the two youngladies, followed by Lady Betty's woman, appeared at the duke's elbow.The duchess, holding a fan between her eyes and the sun, lookedanxiously at the horses. "I don't like them to be on the road alone,"she said. "Coke should have come for them. My dear," she continued,turning to Sophia, "your husband should have come for you instead ofsending. I don't understand such manners, and a week married."
Sophia, blushing deeply, did not answer. She knew quite well why SirHervey had not come, and she was thankful when Lady Betty took theword.
"Oh ma'am," the child cried, "I am sure we shall do well enough; 'tisthe charmingest thing in the world to be going a journey, and thismorning the most delicious of all mornings. We are going to drive allday, and at night lie at an inn, and tell one another a world ofsecrets. I declare I could jump out of my skin! I never was so happyin my life!"
"And leaving us!" her Grace said in a tone of reproach.
Lady Betty looked a trifle dashed at that, but her father pinched herear. "Leaving town, too, Bet," he said good-naturedly. "That's moreserious, isn't it?"
"I am sure, sir, I--if my mother wishes me to stay!"
"No, go, child, and enjoy yourself," the duchess answered kindly. "AndI hope Lady Coke may put some sense into that feather brain of yours.My dear," she continued, embracing Sophia, "you'll take care of her?"
"I will, I will indeed!" Sophia cried, clinging to her. "And thank youa thousand times, ma'am, for your kindness to me."
"Pooh, pooh, 'tis nothing," her Grace said. "But all the same," sheadded, her anxiety returning, "I wish Sir Hervey were with you, or youhad not those jewels."
"Coke should have thought of it," the duke answered. "But there, kissBet, my love, and tell her to be a good puss. The sooner they aregone, the sooner they will be there."
"You have your cordial, Betty?" the duchess asked anxiously.
"Yes, ma'am."
"And the saffron drops, and your 'Holy Living'? Pettitt," to thewoman; "you'll see her Ladyship uses the face wash every morning, andwears her warm night-rail. And see that the flowered chintz is airedbefore she puts it on."
"Yes, sure, your Grace."
"And I hope you'll come back safe, and won't be robbed!"
"Pooh, pooh!" the duke said. "Since Cook was hanged last year--and hewas ten times out of eleven at Mimms and Finchley--there has beennothing done on the Lewes Road. And they are too strong to be stoppedby one man. You have been reading Johnson's _Lives_, and arefrightening yourself for nothing, my dear. There, let them go, andthey'll be in Lewes two hours before nightfall. A good journey, mylady, and my service to Sir Hervey."
"I should not mind if it were not for the child's jewels," her Gracemuttered in a low tone.
"Pooh, the carriage might be robbed twenty times," the duke answered,"and they would not be found--where they are. Good-bye, Bet. Good-bye!Be a good girl, and say your prayers!"
"And mind you use the almond wash," her Grace cried.
Lady Betty cried "yes," to everything, and, amid a fire of similaradvices, the two were shut into the chariot. From the window LadyBetty continued to wave her handkerchief, until, Watkyns and the womanhaving taken their seats outside, the postboys cracked their whipsand the heavy vehicle moved forward. A moment, and the house and thekind wistful faces on the steps disappeared, the travellers swungright-handed into Sutton Street, and, rolling briskly through St.Giles's and Holborn, were presently on London Bridge, at that time theonly link connecting London and Southwark.
Lady Betty was in a humour that matched the sparkle of the bright Maymorning. She was leaving the delights of town, but she had a journeybefore her, a thing exhilarating in youth; and at the end of that shehad a vision of lordlings, knights, and country squires, waiting introops to be reduced to despair by her charms. The dazzling surface ofthe stream, as the tide running up from the pool sparkled andglittered in the sun, was not brighter than her eyes--that now werehere, now there, now everywhere. Now she stuck her head out of onewindow, now out of the other; now she flashed a smile at a passingapprentice, and left him gasping, now she cast a flower at anastonished teamster, or tilted her pretty nose at the odours thatpervaded the Borough. The grooms rode more briskly for her presence,the postboys looked grinning over their shoulders; even the gibbetthat marked the turn to Tooting failed to depress her airy spirits.
And Sophia? Sophia sat fighting for contentment. By turns the betterand the worse mood possessed her. In the better, she thought withgratitude of her lot--a lot happy in comparison of the fate which shehad so narrowly escaped; happy, even in comparison of that fate whichwould have been hers, if, after escaping from Hawkesworth, she hadbeen forced to return to her sister's house. If it was good-bye tolove, if the glow of passion could never be hers, she was not alone.She had a friend from whose kindness she had all to expect that anysave a lover could give; a firm and true friend whose generosity andthoughtfulness touched her every hour, and must have touched her moredeeply, but for that other mood which in its turn possessed her.
In that mood she lived the past again, she thirsted for that which hadnot been hers. She regretted, not her dear Irishman--for he had neverexisted save in her fancy, and she knew it now--but the deliciousthrill, the warm emotion which the thought of him, the sight of him,the sound even of his voice, had been wont to arouse. In this mood shecould not patiently give up love; she could not willingly resign thewoman's dream. In this mood she cried out on the prudence that, tosave her from the talk of a week, had deprived her of love for a life.She saw in her husband's kindness, calculation; in his thoughtfulness,the wisdom of the serpent. She shook with resentment, and burnt withshame.
And then, even while she thought of him most harshly, her consciencepricked her, and in a moment she was in the melting temper; while LadyBetty chattered by her side, and town changed to country, and, leavingBrixton Causey, they rattled by the busy inns of Streatham, with thechurch on their right and the hills rolling upward leftwise to theblue.
Four and a half miles to Croydon and then dinner. "Now let me seethem," Lady Betty urged. "Do, that's a dear creature! Here we arequite safe!"
Sophia pleaded that it was too near town. "Wait until we are throughCroydon," she said. "They say, you know, the nearer
town, the greaterthe danger!"
"Then, as soon as we are out of Croydon?" Lady Betty cried, huggingher. "You promise?"
"Yes, I promise."
"Oh, I know if they were mine I should be looking at them all day!"Lady Betty rejoined; and then shrieked and threw herself back in thecarriage as they passed Croydon gibbet that stood at the ninthmilestone, opposite the turn to Wellington. The empty irons swaying inthe wind provided her with shudders until the carriage drew up inCroydon Street, where with recovered cheerfulness, the ladies alightedand dined at the Crown, under the eye and protection of Watkyns. Aftera stay of an hour, they took the road again up Banstead Downs, wherethey walked a little at the steeper part of the way, but presentlyoutstripping the carriage above the turn to Reigate, grew frightenedin that solitude, and were glad to step in again. So down and up, anddown again through the woods about Coulsdon, where the rabbits peeredat them through the bracken, and raising their white scuts, loped awayat leisure to their burrows.
"Now!" Lady Betty cried, when they were again in the full glare of theafternoon sun. "Now is the time! There is no one within a mile of us.The grooms," she continued, after putting out her head and lookingback, "are half a mile behind."
Sophia nodded reluctantly. "You must get up, then," she said.
Lady Betty did so, and Sophia, to whom the secret had been committedthe day before, lifted the leather valance that hung before the seat.Touching a spring she drew from the apparently solid woodwork of theseat--which was no more than three inches thick, so that a mail couldbe placed beneath it--a shallow covered drawer about twenty incheswide. She held this until Lady Betty had dropped the valance, and thetwo could take their seats again. Then she inserted a tiny key whichshe took from her bodice, into a keyhole cunningly placed at the sideof the drawer--so that when the latter was in its place the keyholewas invisible. She turned the key, but before she raised the lid, badeLady Betty look out of the window again, and assure herself that thegrooms were at a distance.
"You provoking creature!" Lady Betty cried. "They are where theywere--a good half-mile behind. And--yes, one of them has dismounted,and is doing something to his saddle. Oh! let me look, I am dying tosee them!"
Sophia raised the lid, and her companion gasped, then screamed withdelight. Over the white Genoa of the jewel case shone, and rippled,and sparkled in rills of liquid fire, a necklace, tiara, and braceletof perfect stones, perfectly matched. Lady Betty had expected much;her mother had told her that, at the coronation of '27, Lady Coke'sjewels had taken the world by storm; and that no one under the rank ofa peeress had worn any like them. But reality exceeded imagination;she could not control her delight, admiration, envy. She hung over thetray, her eyes bright as the stones they reflected, her cheekscatching the soft lustre of the jewels.
"Oh, ma'am, now I know you are married!" she cried. "Things like theseare not for poor lambkins! I vow I grow afraid of you. My Lady Brookwill have nothing like them, and couldn't carry them if she had! She'dsink under them, the wee thing! And my Lady Carteret won't do better,though she is naught but airs and graces, and he's fifty-five if he'sa day! When you go to the Drawing-Room, they'll die of envy. And tothink the dear things lie under that dingy valance! I declare, Iwonder they don't shine through!"
"Sir Hervey's father planned the drawer," Sophia explained, "for thecarriage he built for his wife's foreign tour. And when Sir Hervey hada new carriage about six years ago, the drawer was repeated as amatter of course. Once his mother was stopped and robbed when she hadthe diamonds with her, but they were not found."
"And had you never seen them until yesterday?"
"Never."
"And he'd never told you about them until they sent them from thebank, with that note?"
Sophia sighed as she glanced at the jewels. "He had not mentionedthem," she said.
Lady Betty hugged her ecstatically: "The dear devoted man!" she cried."I vow you are the luckiest woman in the world! There's not a girl intown would not give her two eyes for them! And mighty few would not beready to sell themselves body and soul for them! And he sends them toyou with scarce a word, but 'Lady Coke from her husband!'--and wherethey are to be hidden to travel. I vow," Lady Betty continued gaily,"if I were in your shoes, my dear, I should jump out of my skin withjoy! I--why what's the matter, are you ill?"
For Sophia had suddenly burst into violent weeping; and now, with thediamonds lying in her lap, was sobbing on the other's shoulder as ifher heart would break. "If you knew!" was all she could say: "If youknew!"
The young girl, amazed and frightened, patted her shoulder, tried tosoothe her, asked her again and again: What? If she only knew what?
"The sight of them kills me!" Sophia cried, struggling in vain withher emotion. "They are not mine! I have no--no right to them!"
Lady Betty raised her pretty eyebrows in despair. "But they areyours," she said. "Your husband has given them to you."
"I would rather he killed me!" Sophia cried; her feelings, overwroughtfor a week past, finding sudden vent.
Lady Betty gasped. "Oh!" she said. "I don't understand, I am afraid.Doesn't he"--in an awestruck tone--"doesn't he love you, then?"
"He?" Sophia cried bitterly. "Oh yes, I suppose he does. He pities meat any rate. It's I----"
"You don't love him?"
Sophia shook her head.
The younger girl shivered. "That must be--horrible," she whispered.
Her tone was so grave that Sophia raised her head, and smiled drearilythrough her tears. "You don't understand yet," she said. "It's only aform, our marriage. He offered to marry me to save me from scandal.And I agreed. But since he gave me the jewels that were his mother's,I--I am frightened, child. I know now that I have done wrong. I shouldnot have let him persuade me."
"Why did you?" Lady Betty asked softly.
Sophia told her, with all the circumstances of Hawkesworth's villainy,Tom's infatuation, her own dilemma, Sir Hervey's offer, and the termsof it.
After a brief silence, "It was generous," Lady Betty said, her eyesshining. "I think I should--I think I could love him, my Lady Coke.And since that, you have only seen him one day?"
"That is all."
"And he kept his word? I mean--he wasn't silly?"
"No."
"He has been kind too. There is no denying that?"
"It is that which is killing me!" Sophia cried with returningexcitement. "It is his kindness kills me, girl! Cannot you understandthat?"
Lady Betty declined to say she could. And for quite a long time shewas silent. She sat gazing from the carriage, her eyes busied, to allappearance, with the distant view of Godstone Church; but a personwatching her closely might have detected a gleam of mischief, a suddenflash of amusement that leapt into them as she looked; and that couldscarcely have had to do with this church. She seemed at a loss,however, for matter of comfort; or she was singularly unfortunate inthe choice of it. For when she spoke again she could hit on no bettertopic to compose Sophia's mind than a long story, which the naughtygirl had no right to know, of Sir Hervey's dealings with his oldflames. It is true, nods and winks formed so large a part of the tale,and the rest was so involved, that Sophia could not even arrive at theladies' names. "But," as Lady Betty concluded mysteriously, "it mayserve to ease your mind, my dear. You may be sure he won't trouble youlong. La! child, the things I've heard of him--but there, I mustn'ttell you."
"No," Sophia answered primly. "Certainly not, if you please."
"Of course not. But you may take it from me, the first pretty face hesees----why, Sophy! what is it! What is it?"
No wonder she screamed. Sophia had gripped her arm with one hand; withthe other she was striving to cover the treasure that lay forgotten onher lap. "What is it?" Betty repeated frantically. There is nothingmore terrifying than a silent alarm ill-understood.
The next moment she saw--and understood. Beside Sophia's window,riding abreast of the carriage, in such a position that only hishorse's head, by forging an instant to the front, had betra
yed hispresence, was a cloaked stranger. Lady Betty caught no more than aglimpse of him, but that was enough. Apart from the doubt how long hehad ridden there, inspecting the jewels at his leisure, his appearancewas calculated to scare less nervous travellers. Though the day wasmild, he wore a heavy riding cloak, the collar of which rose to theheight of his cheek bone, where it very nearly met the uncocked leafof his hat. Between the two, an eye bright and threatening gleamedforth. The rest of his features were lost in the depths of a fierceblack riding wig; but his great holsters, and long swinging sword,seemed to show that his errand was anything but peaceful.
The moment his one eye met Lady Betty's gaze, he fell back; and thatinstant Sophia used to close the jewel case, and turn the key. Tolower the drawer to the floor of the carriage, and cover it with herskirts was the work of a second, then still trembling, she put out herhead, and looked back along the road. The man had pulled his horseinto a walk, and was now a hundred paces behind them. Even at thatdistance, his cloaked figure as he lounged along the turf beside thetrack, loomed a dark blot on the road.
Sophia drew in her head. "Quick!" she cried. "Do you stand up andwatch him, Betty, while I put the case away. Tell me in a moment if hecomes on or is likely to overtake us."
Lady Betty complied. "He is walking still," she said, her head outon one side. "Now the grooms--lazy beasts, they should have beenhere--are passing him, La, what a turn it gave me. He had an eye--Ihope to goodness we shall never meet the wretch again."
"I hope we may never meet him after nightfall," Sophia answered with ashudder. And she clicked the drawer home, dropped the valance in frontof the seat, and rose from her knees.
"I noticed one thing, the left hand corner of his cloak was patched,"Lady Betty said, as she drew in her head. "And I should know his horseamong a hundred: chestnut, with white forelegs and a scarred knee."
"He saw them, he must have seen them!" Sophia cried in great distress."Oh, why did I take them out!"
"But if he meant mischief he would have stopped us then," Lady Bettyreplied. "The grooms were half a mile behind, and I'll be boundWatkyns was asleep."
"He dared not here, because of these houses," Sophia moaned, as theyrolled by a small inn, the outpost of the little hamlet of New ChapelGreen, between Lingfield and Turner's Heath. "He will wait until weare in some lonely spot, in a wood, or crossing a common, or----"
"Sho!" Lady Betty cried contemptuously--the jewels were not hers, andweighed less heavily on her mind. "We are only five miles fromGrinstead, see, there is the milestone, and it is early in theafternoon. He'll not rob us here if he be Turpin himself."
"All the same," Sophia cried, "I wish the diamonds were safe atLewes."
"Why, child, they are your own!" Lady Betty answered. "If you losethem, whose is the loss?"
But Sophia, whether she agreed or had her own views of the fact,appeared to draw little comfort from it. As the horses slowly climbedthe hill and again descended the slope to Felbridge, her head was moreoften out of the window than in the carriage. She beckoned to thegrooms to come on; she prayed Watkyns, who, sure enough, was asleep,to be on the alert; she bade the post-boys whip on. Nor did she showherself at ease, or heave a sigh of relief, until the gibbet at thetwenty-ninth milestone was safely passed, and the carriage rattledover the pavement of East Grinstead.
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