The Foundling

by Georgette Heyer

  ‘Yes, sir. I – we – hope to establish her creditably,’ said the Duke.

  Lord Lionel nodded, ready to dismiss the matter. ‘That’s right. You can afford to be generous, but do not run to extremes! If you do not like to set about the business yourself, I will do it for you.’

  ‘I think, sir, that it will be better if I settle it,’ said the Duke firmly.

  ‘As you please,’ said his lordship. ‘It will not hurt you to get out of this scrape by yourself, though I daresay you will be humbugged into paying her far too much. Never be deceived by a pretty face, my boy! All the same, these ladybirds!’

  He then favoured his awed young relatives with several surprising reminiscences of his own youth, pointed the moral to them, and said that it was high time he drove back to Cheyney. Gideon saw him to the Duke’s chaise. He paused for a minute or two in the doorway of the inn, and said, in a burst of confidence: ‘You know, Gideon, the boy has not managed so ill! I own, I had not thought he had so much resolution! I begin to have hopes of him. I should not be at all surprised if he turns out to be as good a man as his father. It is a thousand pities he is so undersized, but you may have noticed that he has his own dignity.’

  ‘I have frequently noticed it, sir.’

  ‘It would not have been wonderful if he had been daunted by all these constables, and kidnappers, and beadles, but no! Mind, he should not have done such a foolish thing, but as it chances no harm has come of it, and I shall say nothing more on that head. You are both of you past the age of being scolded.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said his son, grinning affectionately at him.

  Twenty-four

  The Duke’s chaise, with his footman and all his baggage, having been despatched by Lord Lionel from Cheyney at an early hour on the following morning, Gilly lost no time in removing to the Christopher, where he instantly discarded his travel-stained raiment, and gratified Nettlebed by telling him that he might give the olive coat away, since he never wished to see it again. Not to be outdone in generosity, Nettlebed said that another such coat could be ordered from Scott – if his Grace preferred his cut to Weston’s. He then eased the Duke into a coat of blue superfine, carefully smoothed his nankeen pantaloons, flicked some quite imaginary dust from his Hessians, and added that if his opinion was asked, he would feel himself obliged to say that no one could cut a coat with quite that refinement of taste shown by Weston. The Duke, glancing at the reflection of his trim figure in the mirror, admitted that there was a good deal of truth in what he said, and went off, knowing that he had amply recompensed his servitor for any anxiety he had previously caused him to feel.

  He found his footman hovering in the passage, waiting, apparently, for no better purpose than to open the door for him into his private parlour. This well-trained individual wore a more than ordinarily inhuman expression, not even permitting himself one furtive glance at his master. But the Duke paused outside the parlour-door, and said smilingly: ‘I have not thanked you for contriving so cleverly for me, that day in London, Francis. I am very much obliged to you.’

  The footman, bringing his gaze down, found that the Duke was plainly waiting to slide a coin into his hand. He accepted this with becoming gratitude, and the Duke said: ‘I hope they did not ask you a great many awkward questions!’

  ‘No, your Grace, they never asked me any,’ replied Francis, encouraged by the twinkle in the Duke’s eye to relax his quelling rigidity. ‘And if they had, I wouldn’t have said a word, not if they’d offered me fifty pounds, I wouldn’t!’

  The Duke was a trifle startled by this evidence of devotion. ‘You are a very good fellow: thank you!’ he said.

  This unlooked-for courtesy threw Francis quite off his balance. He turned a dull red, and uttered in far less refined accents: ‘It weren’t nothing! I would be main glad to serve your Grace anyways you might wish!’

  The Duke murmured a suitable acknowledgment, and passed into the parlour. Francis, discovering that the coin in his hand was a golden one, instead of the shilling that was his due for any extraordinary service, drew a profound breath, and fell into a blissful reverie.

  The Duke found his cousin in the parlour, glancing through the Morning Post, which had just arrived from London by the mail-coach. He said, in an awed voice: ‘Gideon, the most dreadful thing! I have been quite deceived in that footman of mine!’

  Captain Ware lowered the newspaper. ‘Good God, what has he done?’

  ‘Why, nothing! But I thought he did not care a button what became of me, and I find he is as bad as all the rest! They must have drummed their nonsense into his head, for I never did the least thing to attach him to my interests! It is the most disheartening thing! He will grow old in my service, and become a dead bore to my sons!’

  Captain Ware roared with laughter. ‘Dismiss him instantly, Adolphus, dismiss him instantly!’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t do so! It would be the unkindest thing!’ said the Duke involuntarily.

  ‘Then I fear that until you can bring yourself to do unkind things you must submit to being the idol of your servants. Tell me, would you be content to accept a Rudgeley for your Mudgley?’

  ‘Are you trying to roast me? What do you mean?’

  ‘Only that in obedience to your commands I have been pursuing some few enquiries. I am credibly informed that the receiving-office here has frequently handled letters addressed to a Mr Rudgeley, residing at Little End, Priston. Could Belinda have been mistaken in the name, do you suppose?’

  ‘Oh, very easily! You are the best of good fellows, Gideon! Where is Priston?’

  ‘Somewhere to the south-west, I’m told. Not very far, but off the pike-road.’

  ‘I’ll go there at once. What a curst nuisance it is that my curricle is not yet arrived in Bath! Oh, well! I’ll take my chaise! Francis! Oh, there you are! Tell them to bring my chaise to the door, if you please! I shan’t need more than a pair, but the postilion must acquaint himself with the road to Priston. Gideon, do you come with me?’

  ‘No, I thank you! I am going to promenade in the Pump Room. I think I shall drive out to dine at Cheyney later, to take dutiful leave of my parent.’

  ‘Oh, no, must you? Do you go back to town so soon?’

  ‘To-morrow, if I am not to face a court-martial.’

  ‘Well, my uncle always dines early in the country, so you may join us at the Dress Ball later,’ said the Duke.

  ‘Yes, if I had provided myself with evening-dress I might!’ retorted his cousin.

  ‘It is too bad: I shall miss you!’ said the Duke absently.

  ‘I hesitate to say it, Adolphus, but you are a liar!’

  The Duke laughed. ‘Oh, no!’ he protested, and went off to collect his hat and overcoat.

  Nettlebed was assisting him to put on this garment when Francis came to his room with the news that his bailiff had arrived from Cheyney and respectfully begged to see his Grace.

  The Duke groaned. ‘No, no, I cannot! He will keep me kicking my heels for an hour or more! Why could he not carry his troubles to my uncle? Tell him to go to the devil!’ He perceived that Francis was about to carry out this command, and added hastily: ‘No, do not! Tell him that I am very much occupied, and cannot see him until noon, or perhaps even later!’

  Francis bowed, and withdrew. Nettlebed said severely: ‘You shouldn’t have sent him off, your Grace. A very good man is Mr Moffat, and one as has your interests at heart.’

  ‘Well, I have more important business to attend to,’ replied the Duke impenitently.

  But he was once more doomed to disappointment. When, after being misdirected twice, he reached Little End, which was a small but respectable house beyond Priston, and was admitted to the presence of its master, he was dismayed to find himself confronting a gentleman greatly stricken in years. A stammering enquiry elicited the information that Mr Rudgeley was
a bachelor, and had no young relatives corresponding even remotely with Belinda’s description of her swain. There was nothing to be done but to extricate himself as gracefully as he could from a situation that had become unexpectedly awkward. Mr Rudgeley seemed inclined to take his visit in bad part, and the Duke, sinking back in his chaise again, was obliged to wipe a heated brow. He drove back to Bath in a mood of considerable despondency, which was not alleviated by the news that his bailiff was patiently awaiting his pleasure.

  ‘Oh, damn the fellow! I don’t want to see him!’ he said pettishly.

  Nettlebed was shocked. ‘Is that what your Grace wants me to tell him?’ he asked, taking his hat and Benjamin from the Duke.

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ sighed the Duke. ‘Is he in the parlour? I’ll go to him. Tell them to send up some wine, and biscuits, will you?’

  He was looking rather cross when he entered the parlour, but when his bailiff – yet another of those who had known him in his infancy – rose to meet him with a smile of simple affection, he was ashamed of his ill-humour, and shook hands with Moffat, saying: ‘Well, and how do you do, Moffat? I am sorry to have kept you waiting this age. Sit down, and tell me how you have been going on! And Mrs Moffat? It is a long time since I saw you last!’

  This friendly greeting naturally led to all manner of questions and reminiscences which stretched back over an alarming number of years. Not until the bailiff had drunk his wine did the Duke feel it to be possible to lead him tactfully to a discussion of the business which had brought him to the Christopher. Moffat apologised for troubling his Grace, explaining that he had not been up to the house since the previous morning, and so had not known of Lord Lionel’s arrival there. ‘Not but what,’ he said confidentially, ‘I was wishful to see your Grace in person. It won’t be so very long now before your Grace will be of full age. And right glad everyone will be! Not meaning anything disrespectful to his lordship!’ he added hastily. ‘I’m sure no one could be held in greater esteem! But to see your Grace properly in the saddle, as one might say, is what we are all looking forward to. There will be some changes, I dare swear, your Grace – if I may say so – not being set in the old ways, like his lordship and Mr Scriven. So I made so bold as to bring a few papers I would like fine to have your Grace look over before they go to Mr Scriven.’

  ‘Do you expect me to override my uncle, Moffat?’ asked the Duke, smiling, and drawing up his chair to the table. ‘I am not in the saddle until the spring, you know! What is it? Roofs again?’

  ‘No, your Grace. Just one or two little matters!’ replied Moffat, preparing to expound at length.

  The Duke resigned himself, and bent his mind to the problems laid before him. They seemed none of them to be very pressing, and he was obliged to stifle several yawns before Moffat jerked him out of his boredom by saying, with a little hesitation: ‘The only other thing, your Grace, is young Mudgley’s affair, and I own I should be very glad if you would condescend to –’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed the Duke, starting up in his chair.

  The bailiff was slightly alarmed. ‘I’m sure I beg your Grace’s pardon, if I’ve done wrong to bring the matter up!’ he faltered.

  ‘Did you say Mudgley?’ demanded the Duke sharply.

  ‘Why, yes, your Grace, but indeed I would never –’

  ‘Don’t tell me the man is one of my tenants!’

  ‘Well, your Grace, he is, and then again he isn’t!’ said Moffat, looking at him in considerable perturbation.

  The Duke dropped his head in his hands. ‘And I have been hunting high and low for the confounded fellow! Of course, if he lives near Cheyney, his letters must all go to Bristol, not here! No wonder I could discover no trace of him! Good God, and I very nearly said I would not see you!’

  ‘Hunting high and low for young Mudgley, your Grace?’ said Moffat, in a stupefied voice. ‘But – but does your Grace wish to see him?’

  ‘Yes, I tell you! I have come all the way from Hertfordshire for no other purpose!’

  Moffat stared at him in great misgiving. ‘I beg pardon, but – but is your Grace feeling quite well?’ he asked, concerned.

  The Duke began to laugh. ‘No, no, I haven’t run mad, I assure you! I can’t explain it all now, but I have most urgent need of the man! Where does he live? You said he was one of my tenants.’

  ‘Not exactly, I didn’t, your Grace. He’s a freeholder, but he rents the Five-acre field from your Grace. It was on account of that I was wishful to speak to your Grace.’

  ‘Where’s the Five-acre field?’

  ‘If you will allow me,’ said Moffat, spreading open a map upon the table, ‘I will show your Grace. Now, it’s right here that Mudgley’s farm lies, hard by Willsbridge.’

  ‘But I don’t own any land west of the river, do I?’ objected the Duke, looking at the map.

  ‘Well, that’s just it, your Grace. It isn’t part of the estate, and never has been. It came into the family when your Grace’s grandfather acquired it. They do say that he won it at play, but I don’t know how that may be. There was a tidy bit of it when I was a boy, but your Grace’s father, he never set store by it, and it was cut up, Sir John Marple buying the house, and the demesne, and the rest going piecemeal, all but a few fields and such, of which the Five-acre is one.’ He paused, and glanced deprecatingly at the Duke. ‘If it had been part of Cheyney, I ask your Grace to believe I wouldn’t have thought of such a thing, let alone have mentioned it!’

  ‘But what is it that you want?’ asked the Duke.

  ‘It’s young Jasper Mudgley as wants it, your Grace!’ said Moffat desperately. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t be speaking to you of it, seeing that Mr Scriven won’t hear of letting it go, nor his lordship either, by what Mr Scriven writes to me, the both of them setting their faces against selling any of your Grace’s land, as is right and proper. But young Mudgley’s father and me was boys together, and I’ve always kept an eye over Jasper, as you might say, since his father was taken. He’s a good lad, your Grace, and the way he’s worked his farm up is wonderful, and things not always easy for him. But he’s by way of being a warm man now, and he’d be right glad to buy the Five-acre off of your Grace, if you’d be willing to sell it. I told him my lord wouldn’t hear of it, but it seemed to me as I might venture just to mention the matter to you.’

  ‘Of course! You did just as you should!’ said the Duke enthusiastically. ‘Only tell me one thing, Moffat! Is he married, or single?’

  ‘Single, your Grace. He lives with his mother, him being her only one.’

  ‘The Five-acre shall be his bride’s dowry!’ said the Duke, rolling up the map, and handing it to the astonished bailiff.

  ‘But, your Grace, he’s got no thought of marriage!’ protested Moffat.

  ‘Then I must put one into his head,’ said the Duke.

  ‘Your Grace won’t do that, by what Jane Mudgley was telling me,’ said Moffat. ‘Seemingly, there was a wench in Bath he fell head over ears in love with back in the spring, but she went off somewhere unbeknownst, and he doesn’t seem to be able to put her out of his mind. Not but what she didn’t sound to me the kind of wench I’d have chosen for a steady young fellow like Jasper.’

  ‘She is the bride I have chosen for him!’ said the Duke, his eyes dancing. ‘Does his mother dislike it excessively? I imagine she might! Do you think I can persuade her to accept the girl? Perhaps I had best see her before I take Belinda to her.’

  ‘But – but –’ stammered Moffat.

  ‘That was why I wanted to find Mudgley!’ explained the Duke. ‘The girl is under my care, and I have promised that I will find him for her. You may take me out to the farm. How did you come into Bath?’

  ‘I rode in, your Grace. But –’

  ‘Very well: only give me time to change my dress, and I will ride back with you! Francis must find me a horse! Sit do
wn, Moffat: I shall not keep you waiting many minutes!’

  ‘Your Grace!’ Moffat, looking extremely worried, made a detaining gesture.

  ‘Yes, what is it?’ the Duke said impatiently.

  ‘Your Grace, I don’t know how to say it – and I beg your Grace’s pardon for what may offend you! But I know young Mudgley, and – and he wouldn’t – not for a moment! – he wouldn’t be agreeable to – to –’

  The Duke’s puzzled frown vanished. ‘He wouldn’t take my leavings, eh? Excellent fellow! No, no, Moffat, it’s nothing of the sort, I promise you! She is staying in Bath under Lady Harriet Presteigne’s protection. I do hope Mudgley will believe me! Is he a fine, lusty fellow? Well, I shall depend upon you to guard me from his vengeance, if he doesn’t believe me!’

  He vanished, leaving his bailiff to stare after him in great perplexity.

  Nettlebed, upon being summoned to lay out his master’s riding-breeches and coat, demurred at once. He said that his Grace would be quite knocked-up with all this dashing about the country, and a ball on the top of it.

  ‘Help me out of this coat!’ ordered the Duke.

  ‘Now, your Grace, do but listen to reason!’ begged Nettlebed.

  ‘Nettlebed, do you wish me to run away from you again?’ demanded the Duke.

  ‘No, no, you wouldn’t do that, your Grace!’ said Nettlebed, quailing.

  ‘That, or engage a new valet,’ said the Duke inexorably.

  This terrible threat utterly subjugated Nettlebed, and in almost trembling haste he helped to array his master in his riding-dress.

  ‘I am not in the least fatigued,’ said the Duke, straightening his cravat.

  ‘No, your Grace!’

  ‘I shall not be knocked up,’ said the Duke, walking over to the door.

  ‘No, your Grace!’

  ‘I shall dance into the small hours.’

  ‘Yes, your Grace!’