CHAPTER VI. HORTENSIA'S RETURN
Mr. Caryll needs explaining as he walks there in the moonlight; thatis, if we are at all to understand him--a matter by no means easy,considering that he has confessed he did not understand himself. Didever man make a sincere declaration of sudden passion as flippantly ashe had done, or in terms-better calculated to alienate the regard hesought to win? Did ever man choose his time with less discrimination,or his words with less discretion? Assuredly not. To suppose that Mr.Caryll was unaware of this, would be to suppose him a fool, and that hemost certainly was not.
His mood was extremely complex; its analysis, I fear, may baffle us.It must have seemed to you--as it certainly seemed to MistressWinthrop--that he made a mock of her; that in truth he was the impudent,fleering coxcomb she pronounced him, and nothing more. Not so. Mock hemost certainly did; but his mockery was all aimed to strike himself onthe recoil--himself and the sentiments which had sprung to being in hissoul, and to which--nameless as he was, pledged as he was to a task thatwould most likely involve his ruin--he conceived that he had no right.He gave expression to his feelings, yet chose for them the expressionbest calculated to render them barren of all consequence where MistressWinthrop was concerned. Where another would have hidden those emotions,Mr. Caryll elected to flaunt them half-derisively, that Hortensia mighttrample them under foot in sheer disgust.
It was, perhaps, the knowledge that did he wait, and come to her as anhonest, devout lover, he must in honesty tell her all there was to knowof his odd history and of his bastardy, and thus set up between them abarrier insurmountable. Better, he may have thought, to make from theoutset a mockery of a passion for which there could be no hope. And so,under that mocking, impertinent exterior, I hope you catch some glimpseof the real, suffering man--the man who boasted that he had the gift oflaughter.
He continued a while to pace the dewy lawn after she had left him, anda deep despondency descended upon the spirit of this man who accountedseriousness a folly. Hitherto his rancor against his father had been atheoretical rancor, a thing educated into him by Everard, and acceptedby him as we accept a proposition in Euclid that is proved to us. In itsway it had been a make-believe rancor, a rancor on principle, for he hadbeen made to see that unless he was inflamed by it, he was not worthyto be his mother's son. Tonight had changed all this. No longer was hisgrievance sentimental, theoretical or abstract. It was suddenly becomereal and very bitter. It was no longer a question of the wrong done hismother thirty years ago; it became the question of a wrong done himselfin casting him nameless upon the world, a thing of scorn to cruel,unjust humanity. Could Mistress Winthrop have guessed the bitterself-derision with which he had, in apparent levity, offered her hisname, she might have felt some pity for him who had no pity for himself.
And so, to-night he felt--as once for a moment Everard had made himfeel--that he had a very real wrong of his own to avenge upon hisfather; and the task before him lost much of the repugnance that it hadheld for him hitherto.
All this because four hours ago he had looked into the brown depths ofMistress Winthrop's eyes. He sighed, and declaimed a line of Congreve's:
"'Woman is a fair image in a pool; who leaps at it is sunk.'"
The landlord came to bid him in to supper. He excused himself. Sent hislordship word that he was over-tired, and went off to bed.
They met at breakfast, at an early hour upon the morrow, MistressWinthrop cool and distant; his lordship grumpy and mute; Mr. Caryllairy and talkative as was his habit. They set out soon afterwards. Butmatters were nowise improved. His lordship dozed in a corner of thecarriage, while Mistress Winthrop found more interest in the floweringhedgerows than in Mr. Caryll, ignored him when he talked, and did notanswer him when he set questions; till, in the end, he, too, lapsed intosilence, and as a solatium for his soreness assured himself by lengthy,wordless arguments that matters were best so.
They entered the outlying parts of London some two hours later, and itstill wanted an hour or so to noon when the chaise brought up inside therailings before the earl's house in Lincoln's Inn Fields.
There came a rush of footmen, a bustle of service, amid which theyalighted and entered the splendid residence that was part of the littlethat remained Lord Ostermore from the wreck his fortunes had suffered onthe shoals of the South Sea.
Mr. Caryll paused a moment to dismiss Leduc to the address in Old PalaceYard where he had hired a lodging. That done, he followed his lordshipand Hortensia within doors.
From the inner hall a footman ushered him across an ante-chamber toa room on the right, which proved to be the library, and was hislordship's habitual retreat. It was a spacious, pillared chamber, veryrichly panelled in damask silk, and very richly furnished, having longFrench windows that opened on a terrace above the garden.
As they entered there came a swift rustle of petticoats at their heels,and Mr. Caryll stood aside, bowing, to give passage to a tall lady whoswept by with no more regard for him than had he been one of thehouse's lackeys. She was, he observed, of middle-age, lean andaquiline-featured, with an exaggerated chin, that ended squarely asboot. Her sallow cheeks were raddled to a hectic color, a monstroushead-dress--like that of some horse in a lord mayor's show--coiffedher, and her dress was a mixture of extravagance and incongruity, thepetticoat absurdly hooped.
She swept into the room like a battleship into action, and let fly herfirst broadside at Mistress Winthrop from the threshold.
"Codso!" she shrilled. "You have come back! And for what have you comeback? Am I to live in the same house with you, you shameless madam--thathave no more thought for your reputation than a slut in a smock-race?"
Hortensia raised indignant eyes from out of a face that was very pale.Her lips were tightly pressed--in resolution, thought Mr. Caryll, whowas very observant of her--not to answer her ladyship; for Mr. Caryllhad little doubt as to the identity of this dragon.
"My love--my dear--" began his lordship, advancing a step, his tone avery salve. Then, seeking to create a diversion, he waved a hand towardsMr. Caryll. "Let me present--"
"Did I speak to you?" she turned to bombard him. "Have you not done harmenough? Had you been aught but a fool--had you respected me as a husbandshould--you had left well alone and let her go her ways."
"There was my duty to her father, to say aught of--"
"And what of your duty to me?" she blazed, her eyes puckering mostmalignantly. She reminded Mr. Caryll of nothing so much as a vulture."Had ye forgotten that? Have ye no thought for decency--no respect foryour wife?"
Her strident voice was echoing through the house and drawing a littlecrowd of gaping servants to the hall. To spare Mistress Winthrop, Mr.Caryll took it upon himself to close the door. The countess turned atthe sound.
"Who is this?" she asked, measuring the elegant figure with an evil eye.And Mr. Caryll felt it in his bones that she had done him the honor todislike him at sight.
"It is a gentleman who--who--" His lordship thought it better,apparently, not to explain the exact circumstances under which he hadmet the gentleman. He shifted ground. "I was about to present him,my love. It is Mr. Caryll--Mr. Justin Caryll. This, sir, is my LadyOstermore."
Mr. Caryll made her a profound bow. Her ladyship retorted with a sniff.
"Is it a kinsman of yours, my lord?" and the contempt of the questionwas laden with a suggestion that smote Mr. Caryll hard. What she impliedin wanton offensive mockery was no more than he alone present knew to bethe exact and hideous truth.
"Some remote kinsman, I make no doubt," the earl explained. "Untilyesterday I had not the honor of his acquaintance. Mr. Caryll is fromFrance."
"Ye'll be a Jacobite, no doubt, then," were her first, uncompromisingwords to the guest.
Mr. Caryll made her another bow. "If I were, I should make no secretof it with your ladyship," he answered with that irritating suavity inwhich he clothed his most obvious sarcasms.
Her ladyship opened her eyes a little wider. Here was a tone she wasunused to. "And wha
t may your business with his lordship be?"
"His lordship's business, I think," answered Mr. Caryll in a tone ofsuch exquisite politeness and deference that the words seemed purged ofall their rudeness.
"Will you answer me so, sir?" she demanded, nevertheless, her voicequivering.
"My love!" interpolated his lordship hurriedly, his florid face aflush."We are vastly indebted to Mr. Caryll, as you shall learn. It was he whosaved Hortensia."
"Saved the drab, did he? And from what, pray?"
"Madam!" It was Hortensia who spoke. She had risen, pale with anger, andshe made appeal now to her guardian. "My lord, I'll not remain to be sospoken of. Suffer me to go. That her ladyship should so speak of me tomy face--and to a stranger!"
"Stranger!" crowed her ladyship. "Lard! And what d'ye suppose willhappen? Are you so nice about a stranger hearing what I may have to sayof you--you that will be the talk of the whole lewd town for this fineescapade? And what'll the town say of you?"
"My love!" his lordship sought again to soothe her. "Sylvia, let meimplore you! A little moderation! A little charity! Hortensia has beenfoolish. She confesses so much, herself. Yet, when all is said, 'tis notshe is to blame."
"Am I?"
"My love! Was it suggested?"
"I marvel it was not. Indeed, I marvel! Oh, Hortensia is not to blame,the sweet, pure dove! What is she, then?"
"To be pitied, ma'am," said his lordship, stirred to sudden anger, "thatshe should have lent an ear to your disreputable son."
"My son? My son?" cried her ladyship, her voice more and more strident,her face flushing till the rouge upon it was put to shame, revealed inall its unnatural hideousness. "And is he not your son, my lord?"
"There are moments," he answered hardily, "when I find it difficult tobelieve."
It was much for him to say, and to her ladyship, of all people. It waspure mutiny. She gasped for air; pumped her brain for words. Meantime,his lordship continued with an eloquence entirely unusual in him andprompted entirely by his strong feelings in the matter of his son. "Heis a disgrace to his name! He always has been. When a boy, he was a liarand a thief, and had he had his deserts he had been lodged in Newgatelong ago--or worse. Now that he's a man, he's an abandoned profligate, abrawler, a drunkard, a rakehell. So much I have long known him for; butto-day he has shown himself for something even worse. I had thought thatmy ward, at least, had been sacred from his villainy. That is the lastdrop. I'll not condone it. Damn me! I can't condone it. I'll disown him.He shall not set foot in house of mine again. Let him keep the companyof his Grace of Wharton and his other abandoned friends of the Hell FireClub; he keeps not mine. He keeps not mine, I say!"
Her ladyship swallowed hard. From red that she had been, she was nowashen under her rouge. "And, is this wanton baggage to keep mine? Is sheto disgrace a household that has grown too nice to contain your son?"
"My lord! Oh, my lord, give me leave to go," Hortensia entreated.
"Ay, go," sneered her ladyship. "Go! You had best go--back to him. Whatfor did ye leave him? Did ye dream there could be aught to return to?"
Hortensia turned to her guardian again appealingly. But her ladyshipbore down upon her, incensed by this ignoring; she caught the girl'swrist in her claw-like hand. "Answer me, you drab! What for did youreturn? What is to be done with you now that y' are soiled goods? Whereshall we find a husband for you?"
"I do not want a husband, madam," answered Hortensia.
"Will ye lead apes in hell, then? Bah! 'Tis not what ye want, my finemadam; 'tis what we can get you; and where shall we find you a husbandnow?"
Her eye fell upon Mr. Caryll, standing by one of the windows, a lookof profound disgust overplaying the usually immobile face. "Perhaps thegentleman from France--the gentleman who saved you," she sneered, "willpropose to take the office."
"With all my heart, ma'am," Mr. Caryll startled them and himselfby answering. Then, perceiving that he had spoken too much uponimpulse--given utterance to what was passing in his mind--"I but mentionit to show your ladyship how mistaken are your conclusions," he added.
The countess loosed her hold of Hortensia's wrist in her amazement,and looked the gentleman from France up and down in a mighty scornfulmanner. "Codso!" she swore, "I may take it, then, that your savingher--as ye call it--was no accident."
"Indeed it was, ma'am--and a most fortunate accident for your son."
"For my son? As how?"
"It saved him from hanging, ma'am," Mr. Caryll informed her, and gaveher something other than the baiting of Hortensia to occupy her mind.
"Hang?" she gasped. "Are you speaking of Lord Rotherby?"
"Ay, of Lord Rotherby--and not a word more than is true," put in theearl. "Do you know--but you do not--the extent of your precious son'svillainy? At Maidstone, where I overtook them--at the Adam and Eve--hehad a make-believe parson, and he was luring this poor child into amock-marriage."
Her ladyship stared. "Mock-marriage?" she echoed. "Marriage? La!" Andagain she vented her unpleasant laugh. "Did she insist on that, theprude? Y' amaze me!"
"Surely, my love, you do not apprehend. Had Lord Rotherby's parson notbeen detected and unmasked by Mr. Caryll, here--"
"Would you ha' me believe she did not know the fellow was no parson?"
"Oh!" cried Hortensia. "Your ladyship has a very wicked soul. May Godforgive you!"
"And who is to forgive you?" snapped the countess.
"I need no forgiveness, for I have done no wrong. A folly, I confess to.I was mad to have heeded such a villain."
Her ladyship gathered forces for a fresh assault. But Mr. Caryllanticipated it. It was no doubt a great impertinence in him; but hesaw Hortensia's urgent need, and he felt, moreover, that not even LordOstermore would resent his crossing swords a moment with her ladyship.
"You would do well, ma'am, to remember," said he, in his singularlyprecise voice, "that Lord Rotherby even now--and as things have fallenout--is by no means quit of all danger."
She looked at this smooth gentleman, and his words burned themselvesinto her brain. She quivered with mingling fear and anger.
"Wha'--what is't ye mean?" quoth she.
"That even at this hour, if the matter were put about, his lordshipmight be brought to account for it, and it might fare very ill withhim. The law of England deals heavily with an offense such as LordRotherby's, and the attempt at a mock-marriage, of which there is nolack of evidence, would so aggravate the crime of abduction, if he wereinformed against, that it might go very hard with him."
Her jaw fell. She caught more than an admonition in his words. It almostseemed to her that he was threatening.
"Who--who is to inform?" she asked point-blank, her tone a challenge;and yet the odd change in it from its recent aggressiveness was almostludicrous.
"Ah--who?" said Mr. Caryll, raising his eyes and fetching a sigh. "Itwould appear that a messenger from the Secretary of State--on anothermatter--was at the Adam and Eve at the time with two of his catchpolls,and he was a witness of the whole affair. Then again," and he waveda hand doorwards, "servants are servants. I make no doubt they arelistening, and your ladyship's voice has scarce been controlled. You cannever say when a servant may cease to be a servant, and become an activeenemy."
"Damn the servants!" she swore, dismissing them from consideration. "Whois this messenger of the secretary's? Who is he?"
"He was named Green. 'Tis all I know."
"And where may he be found?"
"I cannot say."
She turned to Lord Ostermore. "Where is Rotherby?" she inquired. She wasa thought breathless.
"I do not know," said he, in a voice that signified how little he cared.
"He must be found. This fellow's silence must be bought. I'll not havemy son disgraced, and gaoled, perhaps. He must be found."
Her alarm was very real now. She moved towards the door, thenpaused, and turned again. "Meantime, let your lordship consider whatdispositions you are to make for this wretched girl who is the cause
ofall this garboil."
And she swept out, slamming the door violently after her.
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