The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  Upon this Hilda arose, and tendered her hand, with some trepidation, to Randulph, who, with a breast thrilling with joyful emotion, led her into the open space cleared for the dancers, and part of which was already occupied, as before related, by Mr. Cripps and the widow. No time was allowed Randulph to hazard a word to his partner. Scarcely were they placed, when the minuet commenced. The grace with which they executed this charming, though formal dance, excited the admiration of all the beholders, and contrasted strongly with the exaggerated style in which it was executed by Mr. Cripps and Mrs. Nettleship. Indeed, a better foil — had such been desired — could not have been found than the two latter personages presented. Sir Norfolk planted himself on one side to view the dance, and there was unwonted elation in his countenance as he witnessed the graceful movements of his fair cousin and her partner. Trussell in his Turkish dress was among the spectators; and not far from him stood Cordwell Firebras. There were two other personages, also, who watched the dance, but who regarded it with any other sentiments than those of satisfaction. These were Lady Brabazon and Beau Villiers.

  “So you see, Villiers, notwithstanding all your scheming, he has contrived to dance with her,” said the former.

  “He has,” replied the beau, partly removing his mask, and displaying a countenance inflamed with passion— “but he has not exchanged a word with her, and I will take care he shall not exchange one.”

  “You are desperately in love with this girl, Villiers,” said Lady Brabazon, angrily. “I thought it was her fortune merely you aimed at.”

  “I have been foiled, and that has piqued me,” replied Villiers.

  “Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle,” rejoined Lady Brabazon. “After the failure of your attempt to carry her off, I wonder you will persevere.”

  “Hush!” exclaimed the beau. “Someone may overhear us. I would have carried her off to-night, if I had known she would have been here. Your ladyship ought to be obliged to me for the trouble I am taking. I shall remove your rival, and you will then have young Crew entirely to yourself. And now to put Sir Norfolk on his guard.”

  With this, he passed on to the Welsh baronet, and addressed him. The latter bowed stiffly in return, and approached nearer the dancers; and while Hilda was curtseying to her partner at the close of the minuet, he took her hand and led her away. The young man would have followed them, but Cordwell Firebras came up and arrested him.

  “It won’t do,” he said; “Villiers has told the old baronet who you are. I must go after him instantly, and make some excuse for my share in the matter, or I shall have to cross swords with him to-morrow morning. I have done all I can for you. Good night.”

  Soon after this, Randulph quitted the masquerade with Trussell. With some difficulty a boat was procured to convey them home. Finding his nephew in no mood for conversation, Trussell, who was rather tired, and moreover had drunk a good deal of punch and champagne, disposed himself to slumber, nor did he wake till they reached Lambeth stairs. Another boat had just landed, and two persons in dominos marched before them in the very direction they were going.

  “Why, who have we here?” cried Trussell, running forward to overtake them. “Zounds! brother, is it you? Have you been at the masquerade?”

  “I have,” replied Abel; “and I have seen all that has occurred there.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER IX.

  Jacob Brings a Piece of Intelligence to Randulph — Trussell and Randulph Go to Drury Lane.

  “About a week after this, as Randulph was dressing himself one morning, Mr. Jukes entered his room, and informed him that the miser’s servant, Jacob Post, wished to speak to him.

  “He’s at the door,” added the butler, mysteriously— “he seems very anxious to see you, so I brought him up stairs.”

  “Quite right, Jukes,” replied Randulph— “let him come in by all means.”

  “I don’t know that it is quite right, sir,” replied Mr. Jukes, smiling. “I fear my master may be angry with me for admitting him; but I didn’t like to disoblige you.”

  “Very kind of you indeed, Jukes,” replied Randulph. “My uncle shall know nothing about the matter from me. But let Jacob come in.”

  The good-natured butler then retired, and the next moment the porter entered the room, scratching his head, as was his won’t when in any way embarrassed.

  “Well, Jacob,” said Randulph, extending his hand to him,— “I’m glad to see you. Sit down.”

  “No, I thank’ee, sir,” replied Jacob, “I’d rather stand. My business won’t allow of sittin.”

  “Then begin upon it at once,” rejoined Randulph.

  “Before I begin,” said Jacob, making himself up for a speech, “I must premise that I’m come on my own accord, and at nobody else’s request whatsomdever, least of all by desire of Miss Hilda—”

  “I’m perfectly satisfied of it, Jacob,” interrupted Randulph— “perfectly.”

  “Then you quite understand I’m come here without her knowledge or previtty?” said Jacob.

  “Quite so,” replied Randulph— “I am quite sure she did not send you.”

  “No, that she didn’t,” rejoined Jacob, “and mortal angry she’d be with me if she thought I had come. But I see you’re impatient, and I’ll keep you no longer in suspense. I’m come, then, to tell you, that my young missis is going to Wauxhall to-night.”

  “A thousand thanks for the information, Jacob,” cried Randulph, taking a crown from his purse which lay on the table— “Drink my health.”

  “I’d rather not take the money, — much obliged to you all the same, sir,” replied Jacob. “But as I was sayin’, my missis is goin’ to Wauxhall with Sir Norfolk Salusbury, and they’re to join Lady Drabbyson and Mr. Willars. Now I’ve no great opinion of those two fine folks. Indeed, I suspect they’re contriving some wicked design against Miss Hilda. But it’s no use warnin’ my master, for he wilfully shuts his eyes to danger; and as to Sir Norfolk, he’s too much wrapped up in himself, and too proud to listen to me. I therefore thought it better to come to you.”

  “What do you suspect, Jacob?” asked Randulph.

  “Why it’s no matter what I suspect just now,” replied the porter— “but I’m on a scent, and I’ll find it out before night. Have you heard o’ the attempt to carry off my young missis?”

  “No,” replied Randulph— “but you don’t surely suspect Mr. Villiers of it?”

  “It mayn’t be safe to speak out,” replied Jacob, “especially as I can’t bring proof. But I could almost undertake to swear that his walet, Mr. Cripps, was one of the parties engaged in it.”

  “The rascal is capable of anything,” cried Randulph. “Satisfy me that Mr. Villiers was the author of the atrocious attempt you have mentioned, and he shall pay for his villainy with his life.”

  “Wait till to-night, sir,” replied Jacob. “I may be able to satisfy you then. I’m on the look out.”

  “I have my own reasons for thinking some design is on foot,” replied Randulph, “because Lady Brabazon has sent me and my uncle tickets for Drury Lane to-night, regretting she could not go there herself, but omitting to mention a word about Vauxhall.”

  “She wanted to get you out o’ the way,” returned Jacob. “It’s a deep-laid scheme. But I’ll unravel it. Don’t let any one, — not even your uncle, Mr. Trussell — know you’re goin’ to-night. You can watch what’s done, and act accordingly. I’ll be there, and let you know what I’ve learnt in the meantime.”

  “I entirely approve of your advice,” rejoined Randulph, “and will act in accordance with it. But how will you see me there?”

  “Be under the orchyster at ten o’clock, and I’ll find means o’ comin’ to you,” replied Jacob. “And now my time’s up. You’ll be cautious.”

  “Fear me not,” replied Randulph. And Jacob took his departure.

  Acting upon the porter’s suggestion, Randulph said nothing to his uncles of what had passed; nor did Mr. Jukes mention a word of Jacob’s visit, so tha
t neither of them had any idea of the cause of his abstraction, though they both remarked it. He spent the greater part of the morning in his own room, in order to indulge his thoughts unrestrainedly, and only came down stairs to dinner, when he was perfectly composed. Abel was graver than usual, but Trussell was in his usual flow of spirits, and talked of the performances they were about to witness.

  “We are going to see the Beau’s Stratagem, sir,” he said to his brother, “and as Mr. Garrick is to play Archer, and Mr. Macklin, Scrub, we cannot fail of being well entertained.”

  “Humph!” exclaimed Abel.

  “Then as to ladies,” added Trussell, turning to Randulph, “we are to have the charming Mrs. Cibber, and the scarcely-less charming Mrs. Woffington; and the critics tell me that the new opera — the Temple of Dulness — is to be delightful.”

  “No wonder they say so,” observed Abel with a sneer, “the very title is sure to make it attractive to them.”

  “Bravo!” exclaimed Trussell. “By-the-bye,” he added, aside to Randulph, “your friend Kitty Conway sings at Vauxhall to-night.”

  “Indeed!” exclaimed Randulph.

  “I’m surprised you don’t go to hear her,” said Abel, who had overheard the remark, looking so hard at him that he was covered with confusion.

  “He’s otherwise engaged,” interrupted Trussell. “I only heard of it this morning by accident. We’ll go to Vauxhall if you prefer it to Drury Lane, Randulph.”

  “No, don’t alter your arrangements,” cried Randulph, hastily.

  “Sir Singleton Spinke will be there, I’ll be sworn,” laughed Trussell— “though he’s got a new flame; the daughter of a mercer named Deacle, who lives in the Little Sanctuary just opposite; but never mind where she lives,” he added, observing his brother frown— “she’s a devilish pretty girl, and is called, on account of her beauty, the fair Thomasine. You saw her at the masquerade at Ranelagh the other night. She was one of the columbines with Mr. Cripps.”

  “I noticed her,” observed Abel— “a silly coquette!”

  “I’ll tell you a capital joke about Sir Singleton and this fair damsel,” pursued Trussell, laughing. “You must know that he supped with her and her party the other night at Ranelagh, and got so drunk that he was left under the table in the box. While he was in this state, some one, most probably Mr. Cripps, cut off his long queue, and sent it the next morning in a packet to the fair Thomasine, accompanied by a tender epistle, offering her his hand, and begging, as he could not send her a lock of his hair, to enclose instead, his pigtail!”

  “Ha! ha! ha!” — laughed Mr. Jukes, who was in attendance. “Just like one of Crackenthorpe’s tricks, — just like him.”

  This story forced a smile even from Abel, and the rest of the dinner passed off agreeably enough. The cloth was removed, and the wine placed upon the table, but Randulph scarcely tasted it, and Trussell, after swallowing a few glasses, said it was time to start for the play.

  “Before you go, I have a word to say to you, Randulph,” remarked Abel, in a tone that alarmed the young man: “I have made no comments upon your dissipated course of life of late, because I felt it would be time thrown away. But it must now be ended.”

  “I am at a loss to know what particular part of my conduct has displeased you,” said Randulph.

  “I speak of your conduct generally, not particularly,” rejoined Abel, severely. “But there will be one here to-morrow who has a better title to admonish you than I have.”

  “You cannot mean my mother, sir,” said Randulph, in great surprise. “Is she coming to town?”

  “She will be here to-morrow,” replied Abel. “But you are detaining your uncle Trussell — he is impatient. Go. It is your last night. Make the most of it.”

  Trussell was as much surprised as Randulph at what had just passed, but he made no remark till they got out of the house.

  “Well, I shall be delighted to see my sister Crew,” he said— “delighted to see her. But I wonder why the old gentleman made a secret of her coming. Don’t be apprehensive of any lectures from her, Randulph. I’ll set all right, depend upon it.”

  “It is strange she shouldn’t have written to me on the subject,” said Randulph.

  “Most likely my brother imposed secrecy on her,” replied Trussell. “However, we must have a little talk together before her arrival. I must tell you how to act at this juncture. She’s an excellent creature, your mother. But it’ll never do to be tied to the apron string. Let us forget the matter now, and taking the old gentleman’s advice, make the most of tonight.”

  A boat conveyed them to Somerset Stairs, where they landed, and proceeded to Drury-lane Theatre. Randulph had resolved upon what course to pursue. The play was admirably performed; but even the inimitable acting of Garrick and Macklin failed to interest Randulph, so much was he pre-occupied. The comedy over, they adjourned to Tom’s coffee-house in Covent-garden, where abundance of company was assembled, plentifully besprinkled with blue and green ribbons and stars. Trussell met a host of acquaintances, and framing a hasty excuse, Randulph left him with them, and hurrying to Salisbury Stairs, took a boat, and ordered the waterman to row to Vauxhall.

  * * *

  CHAPTER X.

  The Supper at Vauxhall — Beau Villiers’ Attempt to Carry off Hilda Defeated by Randulph.

  Celebrated throughout Europe, and once esteemed the most delightful place of recreation of the kind, Vauxhall Gardens have been in existence for more than a century; and it rejoices us to find that they are not altogether closed. They were first opened with a ridotto al fresco, about the year 1730, and speedily rising to a high reputation, were enlarged and laid out in the most superb manner. A magnificent orchestra, of Gothic form, ornamented with carvings and niches, and provided with a fine organ, was erected in the midst of the garden. There was likewise a rotunda, though not of equal dimensions with that of Ranelagh, being only seventy feet in diameter, with a dome-like roof, supported by four Ionic columns, embellished with foliage at the base, while the shafts were wreathed with a Gothic balustrade, representing climbing figures. From the centre depended a magnificent chandelier. A part of the rotunda, used as a saloon was decorated with columns, between which were paintings by Hayman. The entrance from the gardens was through a Gothic portal. Moreover, there were pavilions or alcoves, ornamented with paintings from designs by Hogarth and Hayman, appropriate to the place; each alcove having a table in it capable of accommodating six or eight persons, and leading in an extensive sweep to an extensive piazza, five hundred feet in length, of Chinese architecture. This semicircle led to a further sweep of pavilions. A noble gravel walk, nine hundred feet in length, bordered with lofty trees, and terminated by a broad lawn, in which there was a Gothic obelisk, faced the entrance. But the enchantment of the gardens commenced with the moment of their illumination, when upwards of two thousand lamps lighted almost simultaneously, glimmered through the green leaves of the trees, and shed their radiance on the fairy scene around. This was the grand charm of Vauxhall. One of its minor attractions was a curious piece of machinery, representing a miller’s house, a water-wheel, and a cascade, which at that period of the art was thought quite marvellous. There were numberless walks and wildernesses in the grounds, and most of the vistas were adorned with statues. In one of them, at a date a little posterior to this history, was a statue of Handel as Orpheus, holding a lyre.

  It was nearly ten o’clock when Randulph reached the gardens. He proceeded along the grand walk, which was brilliantly illuminated and filled with company, as far as the obelisk, but he could see nothing of Sir Norfolk or Hilda. He turned into one of the side walks, and approached the orchestra, in front of which stood Kitty Conway, preparing to sing. She instantly detected him, and made a slight movement of recognition. As he passed a range of alcoves beneath the orchestra, he perceived Jacob, who instantly came towards him.

  “I’ve found it all out,” said the porter— “I knew I should. Mr. Willars is the contriver of the plot.
He means to carry Miss Hilda off, and has engaged a coach for that purpose, which is stationed at the back o’ the gardens. Luckily, the coachman is a friend o’ mine, and it’s through him I’ve detected the scheme.”

  “But where is your mistress?” cried Randulph.

  “There,” replied Jacob, pointing to a party seated at supper beneath the grove of trees in front of the orchestra.

  “I see,” replied Randulph. “By heaven!” he cried, “Mr. Villiers is coming this way. Two persons stop him. As I live, one of them is his valet, and the other Captain Culpepper, a fellow whom my uncle Trussell told me was a sort of bravo, and would cut any man’s throat for hire. Doubtless, they’re planning the abduction.”

  “You may take your oath of it,” replied Jacob. “I’ll manage to get near ’em unobserved. Come back to this place when they separate, and you shall know all.”

  So saying, he slouched his hat over his eyes, and mingling with the crowd, got within earshot of the beau, who, as has been intimated, was addressing Captain Culpepper and Mr. Cripps.

  Randulph, meanwhile, felt irresistibly drawn towards the table where Hilda was seated, and as he kept behind the trees, he was not noticed by the party, though he was noticed by Kitty Conway, from the orchestra, who, guessing his intention, was so much agitated that for the first time in her professional career, she made some false notes in her singing. Hilda’s seat was placed against a tree. On her right was Sir Norfolk Salusbury; and on the right of the baronet, Lady Brabazon; next to her ladyship was a vacant chair — no doubt just quitted by Beau Villiers; then came Lady Fazakerly; then Sir Bulkeley Price; and, lastly, Clementina Brabazon, who occupied the seat on the left of the miser’s daughter. Partly screened by the tree against which Hilda was seated, Randulph bent forward, and breathed her name in the gentlest accents. Hilda heard the whisper, and looking round, beheld the speaker. How much may he conveyed in a glance! She read the intensity of his passion, and the depth of his devotion in his eyes; and for the first time, returned his gaze with a look of kindness, almost of tenderness. Randulph was transported; he could not resist the impulse that prompted him to advance, and take her hand, which she unresistingly yielded to him.