‘Oh, Gilly, as though I cared for that! Indeed, I have no wish to go! If – if you should not dislike it very much, I will go with you to fetch Belinda back!’
‘Hoity-toity, what next?’ demanded the Dowager. ‘That would be the outside of enough, girl! Junketing about the country like any hoyden! You will do no such thing!’
Harriet flushed, but looked beseechingly up at the Duke. ‘Would it be improper, Gilly? You must be the judge, but I wish very much to go with you.’
He pressed her hand. ‘No, not improper, but I could not permit it, love. There is not the least need, moreover.’
‘No. Oh, no! Only that – when he is vexed, poor Charlie has such a dreadful temper, and – and you are angry too, Gilly!’
‘Oh, you need have no fear on that score!’ he said reassuringly. ‘We shall not brawl in public, I hope!’
‘I do not wish you to quarrel!’ she said piteously.
‘My dear, you are being absurd!’ he said. ‘I might give Charlie a trimming, but I do not intend to come to pistols with him!’
‘You would not, I know, but he – !’
‘No, no!’ he said. ‘He is not such a fool!’
She was obliged to be satisfied, and he took his leave of her, promising to visit her immediately upon his return to Bath.
When he reached the Christopher again, he found his chaise waiting for him. He determined to drive first to Lord Gaywood’s lodging in Green Street, to learn what he might there, but as he had no expectation of finding Belinda there, and believed it to be possible that he might have a long drive before him, he went first into the hotel to provide himself with an overcoat. He ran up the stairs, and was brought up short on the landing by the sight of Tom, coming out of his parlour. ‘Good God! What are you doing in Bath, Tom?’ he demanded, misgiving in his heart.
‘Oh, sir, I thought you was never coming!’ Tom cried, grasping his hand with painful enthusiasm. ‘I have been waiting for you this age, and that fussy old Nettlebed would not tell me where you was gone to! It is such a lark, and I know you will be pleased with me this time!’
‘But what are you doing here? No, never mind! I can’t stay now, Tom. You shall tell me about it another day.’
‘No, no, you don’t understand, sir! Oh, do come into the parlour! I must tell you!’
He exerted all his lusty strength to tug the Duke to the parlour. He was plainly in a state of considerable excitement, and big with portentous tidings.
‘Well, be quick, then, for I have an important engagement out of town!’ said the Duke. ‘Does your papa know you are here?’
‘No, but that don’t signify! It is too bad! He says we must go home to-morrow, and I might bid you farewell on our way through Bath! The shabbiest thing, for I know how it would be, with the chaise waiting, and Pa in one of his fusses to be off! And I have so much to tell you, sir!’
‘Yes, Tom, but indeed I cannot stay to hear it now!’
‘Oh, no! But you asked me why I was in Bath, you know. I have rid in, and your groom said I might take the roan cob, and you would not mind!’
‘No, but –’
‘And I thought I had better come to Bath to-day, perhaps, because, as it chances, I shot a sheep,’ explained Tom airily. ‘I did not do it on purpose, sir, and I daresay it is not much hurt, and I expect it is your sheep, and I know you will not be angry for a thing like that, but Lord Lionel might not be quite pleased, perhaps, if he hears of it. So I thought I would come to see you, sir.’
‘Yes, Tom, but –’
‘I thought you would tell Lord Lionel that you do not care for the sheep,’ suggested Tom tentatively.
‘Do you wish me to give you a note informing Lord Lionel that you have my permission to shoot sheep?’ asked the Duke, unable to help laughing. ‘Much good would it do you! Now, Tom, be a good boy, and go back to Cheyney!’
‘But I haven’t told you what has happened!’ Tom protested. ‘I know you will like to hear it, sir, and I only did it – at least, for the most part – because I thought you would be pleased! Because you were vexed when Belinda went away with that old gentleman in Hitchin, and you were for ever saying she must not talk to strange men!’
‘Belinda?’ the Duke said sharply. ‘What’s this, Tom? Have you seen Belinda to-day? Tell me at once, if you please!’
‘I am telling you, sir!’ Tom argued, aggrieved. ‘You were not here, when I rode in, and the waiter said you was gone off somewhere with your bailiff. He is a famous fellow, sir! He took me –’
‘Never mind that! What is this about Belinda?’
‘Oh, that! Well, when I heard you was gone out, I thought I would go to those gardens again, and so I rode off down Bridge Street. And just as I came to Laura Place, I saw Belinda coming down the steps of one of the houses. She did not see me, for I was not near, only I could not mistake, you know, because of her yellow hair, and besides that she had both those stupid bandboxes. So I didn’t go up to her, because she is such a bore, sir! And I was just going on my way when a fine beau jumped out of a hack, that was standing close by, and he went smash up to Belinda, and took the boxes, and said something to her, and handed her into the hack, and got in after. And even then, sir, I didn’t think of what a lark I could kick up! Only, of course I knew you would not like her to go off in a hack with the beau, so I thought I would follow it, and very likely rescue her, if she would like it, or at any rate see how it would be to be a Runner, or a spy, or some such thing. And only fancy, sir! the hack drove past the Pelican! And it went on for ever, almost out of the town! It stopped at last at a big inn, and Belinda got down, and the beau, too, and I could see they were arguing about something, though of course I was not near enough to hear what they said, but you know how Belinda looks when she does not like a thing! I really did think then that she would like to be rescued, and I dismounted, and tethered the cob, and went past the inn, pretending just to be sauntering along, you know. And I saw them through one of the front windows, and they were arguing – at least, the beau was, and Belinda was just sitting. So I thought I would make a plan to steal her away, and I was just on the point of hitting on something famous, I daresay, when the beau came out of the inn, and jumped into the hack, and shouted to the jarvey to drive to Milsom Street. I could see he was in a furious rage, and I quite thought Belinda had sent him to the right-about, only that she never does, and he was a regular dash, I can tell you: complete to a shade! And of course she had not, but only to buy her a purple gown! Such stuff! I think girls are the stupidest things! For you must know, sir, that when the beau drove off I went in to rescue Belinda.’ He paused and gave a disgusted sniff. ‘It would have been a splendid adventure, but she doesn’t care for anything jolly, and she wouldn’t go with me, not even when I told her you would not like her to talk to the strange beau. She said she was going to live in London, and have a grand lodging, and a carriage, and all sorts of trash, and she would not go back to the cross old lady, and you could not find Mr Mudgley, so what else was she to do, and much more beside, but all fustian! I told her she would not go to London in a hack, for it was a great way off, and she said she was going in a chaise-and-four, like a lady, and that was what she was arguing about with the beau, for he wanted to drive her in his curricle, but she would not have it! Only fancy, sir! You would not have supposed that even Belinda could be so stupid! I wish I could drive to London in a curricle! I would gallop at such a rate! I would take the shine out of them all! I would –’
‘Yes, yes, but what happened then?’ interrupted the Duke.
‘Oh, there was no doing anything with her, sir! She said the beau was a lord, but I daresay that was a hum, and he had gone off to hire a chaise, and to buy this stupid dress for her. So I went away, and the more I thought of it the more I knew you would not like it. And then I thought of the most famous plot!’ Tom’s eyes sparkled with reminiscent delight as
he spoke; he looked appealingly at the Duke, and said: ‘You wouldn’t have liked it, would you, sir?’
‘No, not at all. What was your plot?’
‘Well, first,’ said Tom, relishing every moment of his recital, ‘I went back into the inn, and asked for the landlord, only when he came it wasn’t – I mean, it was a landlady, but it didn’t signify. I told her the smokiest story, sir! She was completely taken-in! I said I knew Belinda very well, and how I had seen her get into that hack with the strange beau, and that was quite true, at any rate. And then I said that the beau was a lover Belinda’s pa didn’t like, and that they were off to Gretna Green, because Belinda was a great heiress, and the beau a wicked adventurer. I read a story like that once, only it was a stupid tale, with hardly any fights, and I never thought I should be glad I’d read it. It just shows one, doesn’t it, sir? The landlady was excessively shocked! I said there would be the deuce of a bobbery when it was discovered, and I thought I should go to warn Belinda’s pa. The landlady was frightened for her life, and she said it would be a bad thing for the house, but she could see Belinda was only a child, and it was a shame, and ought to be stopped. So then I said I would fob the beau off, if she would engage to keep Belinda out of the way, and make the ostlers swear they would tell the beau the same story that I did, if he should question them. But he was in such a taking that he never did! Only to ask the head ostler in the fiercest voice you ever heard if a chaise with yellow wheels and four grey horses had stopped at the inn, and of course the ostler said yes, grinning like mad, because it had, you know!’
‘Tom, Tom, you are going too fast for me! What has the chaise to do with it?’
‘Oh, yes! Well, the landlady cajoled Belinda to go with her into a parlour at the back of the house, because she said she would be more comfortable there, and then I wrote a letter in the sort of way I thought very likely Belinda would. I wrote that you had come for her, sir, and would give her a better gown than the one in Milsom Street, and so she was going to London with you instead. And I put in that she was very much obliged to him, because I thought she would say that, to be civil. And then I went out into the road to wait, and after an age the beau drove up in a post-chaise-and-four, and jumped down, and I went up to him, and asked him in the sort of voice a stable-boy would if he was Lord Gaywood, which Belinda said he was. And he said yes, so I gave him the note, and said a young lady with yellow curls had given me a shilling to do so. And, oh, sir, I do think it was the most first-rate lark I’ve ever kicked up, for he flew into the deuce of a passion, and he looked as though he would like to murder someone! And he asked what horses were you driving, and I could see it was you he wanted to murder, so I said grey ones, like I told you, because there was a chaise with four splendid greys, and yellow wheels, and they were famous steppers, so that I should think he will not easily catch them, and so you will have time to fetch Belinda, and be off before he can come back. For he set off after the other chaise in a twinkling, sir, and told the post-boys they should have double fees if they caught up with it. Sir, are you pleased with me?’
‘Tom, I am delighted with you!’ the Duke assured him. ‘My only regret is that I cannot see Gaywood’s face when he does overtake that yellow-wheeled chaise! When you come to stay with me in London, you shall go to all the theatres, and the wild beast shows, and to Vauxhall to see the fireworks, and anything else you may happen to have set your heart on! I am eternally obliged to you – and if my uncle should hear about the sheep, you may tell him that I told you to shoot it! Will you do one thing more for me?’
‘I should think I would!’ asseverated Tom, dazed by the thought of the treats in store for him.
‘Then ride back to Cheyney now, and tell them that I am coming out to dine there, and may be a little late, so that they will please to set dinner back. Don’t tell anyone of this adventure!’ He saw a slightly chagrined look on Tom’s face, and smiled. ‘Well, only tell Captain Ware!’ he amended. ‘You will find him there, you know.’
It was plain that the prospect of again meeting this heroic personage was a lure Tom found hard to withstand. But he set his jaw, and said staunchly: ‘No! I shall come with you, sir, in case the beau should have returned!’
The Duke laughed. ‘Thank you, Tom, but even if he has returned I don’t think I stand in need of protection!’
‘Yes, but you don’t know, sir,’ said Tom earnestly. ‘He is much bigger than you are, and in such a temper beside!’
‘My dear Tom, I know him very well indeed, and I assure you I am not afraid of him! Indeed, you must go back to Cheyney, or your papa will be in what you call one of his fusses, and that might end painfully for you, you know! Be off with you, and don’t forget to tell them that I am coming to dine there!’
He succeeded in getting rid of his young friend, and having seen him mount, and ride off, turned to his waiting chaise, and directed the astonished postilions to drive him to the George inn, on the London road. They exchanged speaking glances, but it was not for them to question the eccentricities of the Quality, and if the Duke chose to be driven a distance of little more than a mile in a chaise-and-four no doubt he would grease their palms handsomely.
The Duke found Belinda waiting patiently in a small parlour at the George, her bandboxes at her feet. She was surprised to see him, but not in the least chagrined. She said: ‘Oh, sir, Lord Gaywood is such a very kind gentleman, and he is going to set me up in style in London, and give me that gown I saw in Milsom Street, and drive me in a chaise-and-four!’
‘Lord Gaywood is deceiving you, Belinda,’ he said. ‘He will do none of these things. You know, it is very bad of you to have run away with him. Didn’t I warn you that you must not go with strange gentlemen, however kind they may seem to be?’
‘Oh, yes, sir, but indeed I thought of you, and how you told me it was a take-in!’ Belinda explained. ‘And this time I did just what you would like, for I said I wouldn’t go to London if he did not give me that lovely purple dress first! And he has gone to Milsom Street to buy it, so you see that he is a kind gentleman, after all!’
‘Belinda,’ he said gravely, taking her hands, and holding them, ‘do you like Lord Gaywood better than Mr Mudgley?’
‘Oh, no!’ she cried, the ready tears springing to her eyes. ‘But you cannot find Mr Mudgley, and Lady Ampleforth boxed my ears, and I was very unhappy in that house. And Lord Gaywood said he would take care of me, and no one should be angry with me!’
‘But I have found Mr Mudgley,’ he said gently.
Her tears ceased to flow abruptly; she stared at him with her eyes very wide open.
‘I promised that I would bring you to him. He wants you very much, and his mother does too. Which is it to be, Belinda? – a purple gown, or Mr Mudgley?’
‘Will you take me now!’ Belinda asked urgently, her cheeks softly flushed. ‘Oh, please, will you take me now?’
‘Yes, I’ll take you now,’ the Duke replied, absurdly relieved at this instant decision. He added, feeling that her sacrifice deserved reward: ‘In a chaise-and-four!’
She clapped her hands in delight, saying that Mr Mudgley would not be able to believe his eyes when he saw her drive up in such an equipage. The Duke, trying not to feel disappointed at this naïve remark, led her out to the chaise, and handed her up into it. He found a nervous, and considerably bewildered landlady hovering beside him, and turned to her. ‘If the gentleman who escorted this lady to your house should return presently,’ he said, ‘will you be so good as to give him a message for me?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said doubtfully. ‘That is –’
‘Tell him, if you please,’ continued the Duke, ‘that the Duke of Sale thanks him for his letter, but does not need any assistance from him in the management of his affairs!’
Twenty-six
The Duke drove Belinda to the Christopher, and installed her in his parlour there while he dashed off
one of his scrawls to his betrothed. It had occurred to him that he had told Mr Mudgley that Lady Harriet would bring Belinda to him. To drive her to Furze Farm a day earlier than could have been expected, and without Lady Harriet, might, he felt, reawaken the mistrust he had been at such pains to allay in Mr Mudgley’s breast. So he begged his Harriet to prevail upon the Dowager to allow her to go with him, and to dine afterwards at Cheyney, offering as sops to the erratic old lady’s possible scruples the presence of Lord Lionel at Cheyney, a promise to escort Harriet back to Laura Place at a seemly hour, and a reminder that there would be moonlight. He sent this missive off by the hand of his footman, and having assured himself that his elusive charge had no immediate thought of wandering away again, went into his bed-chamber to change his dress.
Nettlebed, upon learning of the projected dinner-party, did his best to persuade him into knee-breeches, but he was not really surprised when the Duke said that he should wear pantaloons and Hessians, and, for the first time in his long association with the Duke, bowed to this decree without either grumbling or reminding his master that Lord Lionel always wore knee-breeches in the evening.
Much heartened by this evidence of the beneficial effects to be obtained by treating his servants with brutal severity, the Duke hurried into his clothes, and had packed Belinda and her bandboxes into the chaise again before Francis had had time to return with the answer to his letter. So emboldened by his victory over Nettlebed was he feeling that he drove round to Laura Place with the intention of being extremely high-handed with the Dowager, if she should dare to thwart him. Happily (since the Dowager was more than capable of holding her own against far more formidable males than he would ever be), this trial of strength proved to be unnecessary. When he was admitted into Lady Ampleforth’s house, he found his Harriet already descending the stairs, with her hat on, and a cloak hiding her muslin gown.
The Foundling Page 39
