The Smile of the Stranger

by Joan Aiken

  “He is recovering. I have been to see him several times. But I fancy his days of abduction and plotting are over; he is become, all of a sudden, an old, old man. He is to return to town tomorrow, so he will not be here for the Fete.”

  “I need not attend it, need I?” said Juliana.

  “Not the grand dinner if you do not wish it, chérie. But I think Milord Egg would be disappointed if you did not attend some of his festivities. Besides, the Prince of Wales is coming, as you know, and he has expressed a most particular wish to meet you.”

  “But how does he know about me?” said Juliana. “Oh—I suppose from his brother. How—how tiresome. I would very much rather not.”

  * * *

  However, next day a message arrived from little Prue, who had been laid up with a megrim of the bowel, to ask if dear Miss Jeannie would go to Petworth House with Mistigris, and accompany Prue to see the festivities.

  “May I do that, Tante ’Lise?” said Juliana. “I can hardly deny her. What is going to happen to that poor child, do you suppose?”

  “Oh, Milord Egg will find some means of discovering her mother,” Madame Reynard said comfortably. “Or, if he cannot, she can stay at Petvurrt House and when she grows up we can establish her in some respectable trade. Maybe I open a shop, a modiste’s establishment—Madame Reynard, modiste; or Madame Fox, maybe… Yes, you may certainly accompany Prue about the park, my child, and do not fear that another attempt will be made to abduct you, for Georges has instructed Darner and Goble, his two stoutest footmen, to attend on you wherever you go!”

  “Oh, heavens,” said Juliana, laughing, “I shall feel like the Queen of Sheba.”

  The day of the fete dawned cloudy and damp. But the people of Petworth, quite undismayed by the weather, had been in the park since dawn. The day’s program was to include sports during the day, with long-bowling, quoits, hunting the pig (Lord Egremont was providing a pig as prize), sack races, wheelbarrow races, ordinary running races, besides a pugilistic exhibition, archery and shooting at the butts, rope dancers, jugglers, and fire eaters. A dinner would be served to the townspeople in the park, at three, consisting of roast goose, roast mutton, batter puddings, beer, tea, boiled shin of beef, tripe, and apricot tarts, made with fruit from Lord Egremont’s own succession houses. The gentry indoors would not eat until six, as the Prince of Wales kept town hours, and was not expected to arrive from Bognor, where he was staying with Lady Jersey (the Princess of Wales being in an Interesting Condition, consequently unable to travel) until midafternoon.

  Juliana spent the morning signing papers in the presence of Madame Reynard, her grandfather, and Mr. Throgmorton. When the papers were all signed—and there seemed an infinite number of them—Mr. Throgmorton formally congratulated her, and her grandfather gave her a kiss. He also gave her a gold locket which contained a portrait of her grandmother, and Madame Reynard gave her a charming little peridot brooch.

  “I do not give you diamonds,” she said, kissing Juliana, “because they are very boring, and now you will be able to buy any number of them for yourself. Besides, I have a better gift in mind for you.”

  Juliana could not feel the slightest pleasure in the acquisition of her great wealth. Her only wish was to get rid of it; perhaps, she thought, she might endow a home for poor children, or almshouses for the elderly; or give some to Lord Egremont to start a school. No one will ever like me for myself alone, from now on, she thought dismally; I may as well resign myself to a life on the shelf.

  When the papers were all signed, Sir Horace, declining Madame Reynard’s offer of a nuncheon, announced his intention of setting off immediately for Flintwood.

  “Grandpapa! Will you not stay for Lord Egremont’s dinner and to meet the Prince? Or see the fireworks?”

  “Not I, miss! I have not the slightest wish to see the Prince of Wales—he is a pestilent fellow, a shallow-pated trifler—and as for fireworks, I do not regard them. I have seen too much of the real thing. No, no, I shall be more comfortable when I have my feet under my own table again, and I strongly recommend that you follow me without delay, child. Besides, the house seems quiet without your chatter.”

  Juliana promised that she would soon set out for Hampshire. She longed for the silence and spaciousness of Flintwood—and yet she would be very sorry to part from Madame Reynard, whom she had come to love dearly. Life is very difficult, she thought, and then laughed at herself for finding it difficult with half a million in her pocket. Yet she felt strangely lonely; surrounded by friends and kindness, she knew that something important was lacking.

  When Sir Horace had departed, she helped Madame Reynard with her toilette for the grand dinner; it would be excessively boring, Madame said, but she had promised to help her friend Lizzie, who, though far from well, was obliged to rise from her couch and act as hostess. By the time Juliana and Rosine had decked Madame with all her diamonds and put her into a gown of silver tissue embroidered with flowers, she looked very splendid. Juliana herself had a new dress of blue muslin, embroidered with black butterflies, over a black silk underdress, and hat with blue ribbons; when she went to collect little Prue, the latter exclaimed that she looked exactly like a Pharisee, which, it seemed, meant a fairy. Although recovered from her megrim, Prue still looked a trifle pale, and Juliana suggested that before proceeding into the park, they should watch from a window and see the Prince of Wales arrive. Accordingly, they sat in an upstairs window seat, Prue clasping Mistigris, and so were able to see the long procession of coaches come bowling through the park, headed by a bright yellow one with maroon blinds. Tremendous cheers went up from the townsfolk assembled on the grass, as the carriages came to a halt, and elegantly dressed personages began getting out.

  “Look, Prue, that must be the Prince of Wales—the very fat gentleman all dressed in purple and blue stripes with a silver waistcoat.”

  “He the Prince?” cried Prue. “Why, he be fat as a pig! He bain’t my notion of a prince!”

  Juliana was eagerly looking among the Prince’s retinue, trying to keep down the half-formed hope that she might see Herr Welcker; but there were so many people that it was hard to distinguish one in particular; and why, in any case, she asked herself, should she expect him to be there? But she kept turning over in her mind that brief, extraordinary glimpse of him among the gypsies, which she had never mentioned to anybody.

  The Prince and his train proceeded into the house, to be welcomed with a light refreshment. Juliana now proposed that she and Prue should walk through the park to see the sports. She was greatly embarrassed by the two burly footmen, Darner and Goble, who instantly fell in behind her; she could not help feeling very absurd. However, there was plenty to look at; they were able to watch a sack race and a wheelbarrow race and some wrestling and long jumping, which appeared to afford equal pleasure to little Prue and the footmen.

  Presently a light rain commenced falling, which made Juliana glad she had brought her parasol.

  “Let us go and see what is happening under those trees,” she proposed, shivering as the damp crept through her shawl. “We shall be sheltered there from the rain.” Privately she resolved that Prue must soon return indoors again.

  From the slope leading up to the trees they had a view of the three immense rings of white-covered tables set up for the townspeople’s dinner—they resembled nothing so much, Juliana thought, as some mysterious primitive monument.

  A group of massive trees—oaks and chestnuts—grew on top of the knoll they were ascending, and in their shelter an archery contest was taking place. A target had been set up at which competitors were shooting. But the sport was somewhat slow and argumentative; little Prue soon became bored, and began tugging at Juliana’s hand to go in search of livelier spectacles. Suddenly, however, the dignity of the proceedings were interrupted by laughter and shouts.

  “Catch ’un! Grab aholt of Lordy’s gilt, afore she gits into the woodses!�
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  A large excited pig came dashing into the midst of the archers, overthrowing the target and causing wild havoc. Little Prue shrieked, and let go of the monkey’s leash; Mistigris, snatching this unlooked-for opportunity, scampered up the nearest tree, a huge chestnut with a trunk so creased and seamed that the monkey could run up it like a flight of stairs. Meanwhile the pig fled away with all the archers and their audience in pursuit.

  One of Juliana’s attendant footmen rather reluctantly offered to go up after Mistigris, but Juliana, thanking, shook her head.

  “He does not know you, and he is very timid; besides, all the noise has scared him. He minds me fairly well and I think it will be best if I go after him; the tree looks easy enough to climb. Prue, love, hold my parasol.”

  Accordingly Juliana began carefully drawing herself up the serrated surface of the tree; the light slippers she wore proved admirable for the purpose, as she could dig her toes into the deep cracks in the bark.

  Mistigris, huddled in the first fork, hailed her approach with chattering enthusiasm, and obviously expected her to pass the afternoon with him in the tree.

  “Yes, it is all very well for you, you wretch,” said Juliana, making a successful grab for the dangling leash, “but what Grandfather would say if he could see me—oh!”

  This cry of astonishment was caused by the sight of a long arrow which had struck the tree trunk just beside her arm with a loud, resonant thud, burying its steel point deep in the wood; it stuck there quivering, and Juliana, looking below, called urgently, “Take care! Oh, pray take care!”

  Her voice was drowned by Prue’s joyful shriek of “Davvy! It’s Davvy!” Then the child’s tone changed to one of horror and she screamed, “Davvy, what be you doing? You must not shoot at Miss Jeannie!” Juliana saw a man pulling back a bow, prepared to shoot again. She scrambled down the tree with desperate haste, clasping Mistigris against her; another arrow whistled over her head, missing her by inches.

  As she dropped to the, ground, she heard angry shouts, and turned to see two men locked together in a furious conflict; next moment, one of them, pulling free from the other one’s clutch, succeeded in felling his opponent with a savage blow from the shoulder. Muttering vindictively, the second man struggled to his feet. It was Captain Davenport—Juliana still could not think of him as Jenkins. Darner and Goble sprang forward to seize him, but the man who had knocked him down said, “Stand back! This is my affair.”

  Juliana stifled a gasp. For in the other man she recognized Herr Welcker: a Herr Welcker very different from when she had seen him last, ragged and grimy. Now, though still much sunburned, he was precise to a pin, clad in elegant morning dress—except that his neckcloth had come untied, his hair was disarranged, he was bleeding from a cut on his cheekbone, and he looked very angry indeed.

  Steeping forward, he seized Davenport by the arm.

  “Why were you shooting at Miss Paget?”

  “She’s a cursed jilt,” muttered Davenport, who looked, Juliana thought, far more frightening than when she had seen him last. His eyes were bloodshot and wild, he had a perceptible streak of white on his dark disheveled locks, and there was a great blackened burn on the back of his jacket. He said, “I’ll lay my hands on her sooner or later—see if I don’t! And if I can’t have her—nobody shall!”—endeavoring to break away from Herr Welcker’s hold. It seemed plain that the experiences of the last few days had deranged his mind. Little Prue cried out, “Davvy!” fearfully, but he growled, “Shut your mouth!” Then, evidently realizing that he was outnumbered, he twisted suddenly, thrusting Herr Welcker to one side, and darted off, bounding over the grass with astonishing speed. Welcker was up in a moment and after him—so were the footmen. Juliana and little Prue also ran in pursuit, the former filled with dreadful apprehension. Davenport had seemed so strange! What might he not do if he entered the house?

  He had directed his course toward the pleasure gardens, from where a door led into the tennis court. Possibly he had intended to make his escape by the underground passage; he had reached the court and was heading for the door when Herr Welcker overtook him and seized him again.

  The two footmen arrived shortly after.

  “Best turn him over to Lordy,” one of them was saying as Juliana reached them—little Prue, wailing, had been left far behind.

  “I’ll fight you, I’ll fight you all!” screamed Davenport. “I’m not afraid of you! I’ll fight you for her!” Then he perceived a case of dueling pistols which had been left in the court; evidently someone had been using the room as a shooting gallery, for a target hung against the end wall.

  “Will you fight?” he said again to Welcker. “Will you fight me? Or are you a miserable sniveling coward?”

  Herr Welcker glanced around, and saw Juliana. “I’ll fight you,” he said to Davenport. He was very pale. “I’ll fight you if you will then guarantee never to pursue that lady again.”

  “If I lose, you mean!” shouted Davenport, with a loud, crazy laugh. “But I shall not lose. You!” he said to one of the footmen. “Load the pistols and see fair play!”

  “Oh, pray do not—!” Juliana cried out, but nobody was paying any attention to her, and she crept into the netted gallery while the two men took off their jackets and the pistols were loaded. Then the duelists retired to the ends of the gallery, and Darner, the elder footman (looking very nervous), stood where the net met the wall, holding a white cloth (Herr Welcker’s neckerchief).

  “When-as I drops this-yurr wipe, an’ says ‘Fire,’ then I wants ye to fire,” he said. “But ’tis all wrong, an’ I ’opes Lordy don’t give me a blasting an’ my marching orders for it. Are ye ready? Fire!”

  Both pistols cracked, and Davenport, who had been standing close against the back wall, slowly subsided, leaning against it, until he was sitting on the ground. Juliana, who had been turning her eyes fearfully from one man to the other, observed a spot of red appear on Herr Welcker’s white-sleeved arm. It rapidly increased to a scarlet patch.

  At this juncture, the door leading to the house burst open, and Lord Egremont appeared. He exclaimed, “For heaven’s sake, what is going on here? Are you all run mad? Darner—Gable—what is the meaning of this?” Then his gaze took in the two wounded men, Davenport rolled over in a faint, Herr Welcker with a rather rueful smile upon his countenance.

  “I must apologize, my lord,” he said. “Pray do not be blaming your servants! It was entirely my fault—it seemed the simplest solution to the business. No, that is not quite true,” he added reflectively. “I am afraid that I lost my temper. That fellow there was the man who had abducted Miss Paget.”

  Darner, who had been examining the injured Davenport, now reported, “’E bain’t ’urt bad. Ball be lodged in ’is shoulder, likely.”

  “Carry him off to one of the servants’ rooms and keep him under close observation,” directed Lord Egremont. “I will deal with him later. And I daresay Madame ’Lise will doctor his wound. As for you, Herr Welcker—I am greatly shocked that such a thing should happen in my house while the Prince is visiting it—but I realize that you were provoked. We will say no more about it. Is your injury of a serious nature?”

  “Merely a flesh wound, my lord,” replied Herr Welcker, binding his handkerchief round it. He then looked up and saw Juliana, who, white with anxiety, had run out of the gallery and now stood close by. A sudden smile irradiated his face.

  “My dear Miss Juliana! I must apologize to you, too, for this disgraceful fracas! But I trust that wretched man will annoy you no more from now on.”

  Lord Egremont, hearing Juliana’s name, turned and said, “Ah, my dear child, I was just searching for you when my attention was attracted by the sound of pistol shots. His Highness wishes you to be presented to him. Will you come with me, if you please?”

  “Oh, no!” cried Juliana, horrified. “Just now—when I am in such a pickle—with my dress a
ll green and torn from climbing trees—and Madame’s monkey—”

  “I will accompany you,” offered Herr Welcker obligingly. He put on his jacket and retied his neckcloth in two expert movements. “But perhaps it would be best to get rid of the monkey—”

  Luckily at this moment little Prue arrived, panting and indignant, and was instructed by Lord Egremont to “take the monkey and go to Mam’selle Lord.” Being much in awe of him, she did so without argument.

  Juliana, setting her dress to rights as best she could while walking along, was escorted down a corridor and across a court to the great carved and paneled Grinling Gibbons Hall, where the Prince of Wales was seated in state, conversing with the various guests invited to meet him by Lord Egremont.

  Juliana studied the Prince with interest as she approached. He was like his brother, but better-looking, she decided. He certainly was remarkably fat—she judged that the estimate of seventeen stone could not be far off the mark—his complexion was rather flushed, his curly hair somewhat thin, but his blue-gray eyes were large and bright, and his smile as he stood up to greet her was so full of charm that Juliana saw at once what people meant when they spoke of the Prince’s irresistible fascination. She made him a profound curtsy, to which he responded with an astonishingly graceful bow.

  “My dear Miss Paget! I am so delighted to meet you at last. I have been hearing about you forever—from my brother Clarence, who spoke most highly of your charm—but chiefly from my friend Augustus, yonder”—and he nodded toward Herr Welcker, who bowed.

  “And so you are the dauntless young lady who rescued Augustus from a French mob and sailed with him over the Isle of Wight,” the Prince continued, surveying Juliana with a look in which friendliness, admiration, and a gleam of fun were mixed with something else very unnerving; it makes me feel as if he can see right through my blue dress to my shift, she thought. “And not only are you a beauty and a heroine, but I hear you have just inherited half a million from old Brandywine Paget as well. That seems almost too much. Unfair to other mortals!”