All this was the work of a minute, but the action had not been unobserved, either by Kitty Conway or Lady Brabazon. Both had felt a similar pang of jealousy, but revenge instantly occurred to the latter. While Randulph was in the act of raising Hilda’s hand to his lips, she touched Sir Norfolk’s arm, and pointing in the direction of the lovers, whispered, “Look there!”
Sir Norfolk arose, and in a stern and peremptory voice, said to the young man, “Set free that lady’s hand, sir.”
“Not unless she chooses to withdraw it,” replied Randulph.
“I am wholly to blame for this, Sir Norfolk,” said Hilda, withdrawing her hand, and blushing deeply.
“You are pleased to say so, Miss Scarve,” returned Sir Norfolk; “but the young man has been guilty of a great indecorum, and I shall call him to a strict account for it.”
“I shall be ready to answer the call, whenever you please, Sir Norfolk,” rejoined Randulph; “but this is not the place for menaces. You will do well to look after your charge.”
“I shall take care to keep off impertinents like you,” replied Sir Norfolk.
“Better guard her against other dangers, which require more penetration than you care to practise,” retorted Randulph.
“I have only one answer to make to such insolence,” said Sir Norfolk, “and that shall be given to-morrow. You shall hear from me, Mr. Crew.”
“As soon as you please, Sir Norfolk,” replied Randulph.
“For my sake, Mr. Crew,” interposed Hilda, “let this quarrel go no further. I have been the innocent cause of it. Promise me it shall not.”
“I would willingly obey you in anything, Miss Scarve,” replied Randulph; “but in this case, it is not in my power. Farewell!”
Fixing one passionate look upon her, he then bowed haughtily to Sir Norfolk, who returned his salutation in kind, and withdrew.
As he walked away, he encountered Beau Villiers, who was returning from his conference. Villiers started on seeing him, but instantly recovered himself, and would have addressed him, but Randulph turned abruptly away.
“What the devil has brought Randulph Crew here?” said Villiers to Sir Singleton, as he joined the party. “I thought he was at Drury Lane.”
“Devil knows!” cried the old beau. “But he has made a pretty scene.” And he proceeded to relate what had occurred. Villiers laughed heartily at the recital.
“I hope old Salusbury will cut his throat,” he said, in an undertone.
“Why it would be desirable to get him out of the way, certainly,” replied the old beau. “The women are all mad about him.”
“Especially Kitty Conway,” observed Villiers. “Odds life! this accounts for her having fainted in the orchestra. I wondered what could be the matter with her, but now I understand it. All is prepared,” he added, in a deep whisper to Lady Brabazon.
“Be careful how you act,” she replied, in a low tone. “You’ll find Sir Norfolk dangerous, and Randulph Crew is on the watch.”
“Fear nothing,” he rejoined, “I’ve taken my measures securely. Make towards the dark walk, and contrive to lead him and the others away.”
Lady Brabazon nodded. Soon after this, she arose, and, without ceremony, took Sir Norfolk’s arm, while Villiers very gallantly offered his to Hilda. The rest of the party paired off in like manner. Leading the way in the direction agreed upon, Lady Brabazon expressed a desire to view the scenic representation of the mill and waterfall before mentioned, which was exhibited in a hollow of the great walk; and they proceeded towards it. Hilda was much displeased by the assiduities of her companion, and she could not help remarking that he contrived, on various pretences, to linger behind the rest of the party, and though she repeatedly urged him to join them, he made always some excuse for not doing so. At last, on pausing longer than usual, they quite lost sight of them, and were hurrying forward at Hilda’s urgent request, when, as they passed one of the side vistas, Mr. Cripps, who was standing at the end of it, advanced towards his master.
“Fortunately encountered, sir,” said the valet, bowing; “Lady Brabazon sent me to look for you, to tell you that she and the party are gone down a walk on the left, to see a fine painting, in the Chinese pavilion, at the end of it. With your permission, I’ll shew you the way.”
“Oh yes, let us go to them by all means,” said Hilda, unsuspectingly.
“Lead on, then,” cried the beau, scarcely able to conceal his satisfaction at the success of the scheme.
A few steps brought them to the end of a narrow walk, arched over by trees, the branches of which were so thickly interlaced, that the moonlight could not penetrate through them. Alarmed by its appearance, Hilda drew back.
“How thoughtless of Sir Norfolk to leave me thus!” she exclaimed.
“Why, you are surely not afraid of accompanying me down this walk, Miss Scarve,” laughed the beau. “My valet is with us, and shall protect you. The Chinese pavilion is not more than a hundred yards off; and the walk, though dark, is not solitary.”
Fancying she perceived some persons within it, Hilda suffered herself to be led on; but she had not advanced many steps, when all her uneasiness returned, and she bitterly regretted having assented. But it was too late. The beau’s grasp had tightened upon her arm, and he drew her quickly forward, while Mr. Cripps proceeded at the same rapid pace. Once or twice, she thought she heard footsteps behind her, and almost fancied she could distinguish a figure walking near them, but she did not dare to express her terrors. They had proceeded, so far as she could judge, about a hundred yards, when a sudden turn in the walk disclosed a low hedge; beyond was the open country, bathed in the moonlight. Coming to a sudden halt, the beau said in a hurried, almost fierce tone;— “Miss Scarve, I love you to desperation, and am determined to make you mine. You are now in my power, and must accompany me.”
“Never!” replied Hilda, resolutely. “And I command you to release me.”
She would have screamed for help if Villiers, who grasped her more tightly, had not taken out his handkerchief, and, placing it over her mouth, prevented her cries. While this was passing, Captain Culpepper emerged from the trees, and hastened with Mr. Cripps towards him.
“Bravo, sir!” cried the captain. “All goes well this time. We’ll have her in the coach in a twinkling.”
“Not so fast, villains,” thundered Randulph, rushing forward. “I have allowed you to go thus far to see to what lengths your villainy would carry you. But you shall pay dearly for it.”
As he spoke, he rushed to the beau, and snatching Hilda from him, dashed him backwards with such force that he fell upon the ground. Another person likewise came to the rescue. This was Jacob, who brandishing his cudgel, hurried to the scene of action. On seeing him, the valet whipped out his blade, but it was beaten from his grasp, and he only avoided a terrible blow from the cudgel, by a nimble leap aside. Without waiting for a second blow, he plunged into the wood, and made his escape. Captain Culpepper fared no better. Before he could draw his sword, he received a blow on the head, that stretched him senseless and bleeding on the ground. Hilda, meantime, had murmured her thanks to her deliverer, who felt, as he pressed her to his bosom, that the whole of his previous anxiety was more than repaid by the unutterable joy of the moment.
“Hilda!” he cried, passionately, “I would risk a thousand lives for you. Forgive me if, at this moment, I dare to ask if I may hope?”
She murmured a faint response in the affirmative.
“I am the happiest of men,” cried Randulph, transported with delight.
“Alas!” exclaimed Hilda, “my avowal can give you little happiness. I can never be yours.”
“There you speak truth,” cried Villiers, who by this time had regained his feet, and furiously approached them. “You never shall be his.”
“This is the leader of the gang,” cried Jacob, who having just disposed of Captain Culpepper, now rushed towards the beau, brandishing his cudgel in a formidable manner. “I’ll soon settle him.”
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“Leave him alone, Jacob,” cried Randulph, authoritatively; “his punishment belongs to me.”
“You’re wrong, sir,” rejoined Jacob, “but I sha’n’t disobey you. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like a gentleman.”
“Will it please you to step aside with me for a moment, Mr. Crew!” said the beau, with forced politeness. And as Randulph complied, he added, “I shall expect satisfaction for the injury you have done me.”
“I might well refuse it,” replied Randulph; “but I am too eager for vengeance myself to do so. You shall have the satisfaction you seek as soon as you please.”
“To-morrow morning, then at the earliest hour — at five — in Tothill Fields,” said Villiers.
“I will be there,” replied Randulph.
And, quitting the beau, he rejoined Hilda, to whom he offered his arm. They walked down the avenue together, Jacob following close beside them. Hilda allowed her hand to remain in his, while he poured the warmest protestations of attachment into her ear. She did not attempt to check him, and perhaps it would be difficult to say which of the two felt the most regret when that brief dream of happiness was ended, as they emerged into the lighted vista.
Almost immediately on entering the great walk, they met Sir Norfolk and Lady Brabazon and the rest of the party. Her ladyship was at first greatly confused at seeing Randulph, but she instantly guessed what had happened, and tried to put a good face on the matter. Advancing to Hilda, she hastily inquired what had happened; but the latter turned coldly from her, and taking the arm of Sir Norfolk Salusbury, desired to be led home.
“Your ladyship is perfectly aware of the peril in which I have been placed,” she said. “But I have been delivered from it by the courage and address of Mr. Crew.”
“Before you go, Miss Scarve,” said Lady Brabazon, “I beseech you to give me some explanation of what has happened.”
“It must suffice, then, to say; that Mr. Villiers has attempted to carry me off,” replied Hilda; “but his purpose has been defeated.”
“What is this I hear!” cried Sir Norfolk. “Mr. Villiers guilty of so base an attempt. I will go in search of him instantly.”
“I have undertaken the punishment of Mr. Villiers’ offence, sir,” said Randulph.
“You have an account to settle with me, yourself, sir,” rejoined Sir Norfolk, sternly.
“I will settle it at five o’clock to-morrow morning, in Tothill Fields,” replied Randulph in a low tone— “after I have arranged with Mr. Villiers.”
“Be it so,” replied Sir Norfolk.
And he strode off with Hilda, followed by Jacob, while Randulph, without staying to exchange a word with Lady Brabazon, walked away in the opposite direction.
* * *
CHAPTER XI.
Randulph Worsts Beau Villiers in a Duel in Tothill Fields; and is Worsted Himself in a Second Duel by Sir Norfolk Salusbury.
On quitting Vauxhall, Randulph made the best of his way home, agitated by a crowd of tumultuous thoughts. Abel had retired to rest more than an hour ago, but Trussell was not yet come home. Telling Mr. Jukes, therefore, that he must see his younger uncle directly, he set off again without a moment’s delay, and taking a boat at Lambeth stairs, rowed to the nearest point to Covent Garden. He then hurried to Tom’s coffee-house, where he found his uncle at supper in a box by himself, and proceeded to relate to him all that had occurred.
“A pretty adventure!” exclaimed Trussell at the close of the recital. “An abduction prevented, and a couple of duels. I’m sorry I wasn’t with you, that I might have taken one of the latter off your hands. It’ll be a mortal conflict with the beau. I’m glad you’ve had lessons from Hewitt. He told me himself, not many days ago, that you were one of his best scholars, and had as strong a wrist, and as quick an eye as any man he knew.”
“I have no fear of the result in either case,” replied Randulph.
“I’m glad you’re so confident,” said Trussell; “but neither of your antagonists are to be despised. Take a glass of punch — well, as you please. We must go and make arrangements instanter. Our best plan will be to go to Hewitt, and tell him to be in the field with swords and a surgeon at the appointed hour.”
Emptying the rummer of punch before him, he called to the drawer, paid him, and taking his nephew’s arm, they set forth. Mr. Hewitt lived in Leicester-street, Leicester-fields — now Leicester-square. He was gone to bed, but they soon knocked him up, and explaining their business, he entered upon it immediately.
“I’ll be sure to be on the ground at the time appointed, and will bring Mr. Molson, the surgeon, with me,” said Hewitt. “He will take care of you in case of accident. But I don’t apprehend any such to you, because I know what you can do. You shall have my favourite German blade — here it is,” he added, taking down a sword. “This is the strongest and lightest sword I ever handled, and equal to any Spanish tuck. Be sure you come coolly into the field. The best swordsman that ever fought will be worsted if he is in a passion. You’ll need judgment, as well as skill to-morrow, and take care you do not disorder it any way. Mr. Villiers is a very skilful fencer, but he is likely enough to be in a passion. As to Sir Norfolk, you will find him as calm as death. He is a far more dangerous adversary than the other.”
“Far more dangerous,” echoed Trussell.
“Sir Norfolk being so much taller than yourself,” pursued the fencing-master, “the best way when you intend to make a thrust at him will be to come to half sword, you will then be within distance. If you act on the defensive, engage only five inches, and keep him at that distance. You understand?”
“Perfectly,” replied Randulph.
“The best thrust you can make at him will be seconde, or carte under the shell, or you may dart your sword as I have taught you. And now I recommend you to go to rest. Think no more of the duel, but sleep soundly, and come to the field as fresh as a lark.”
Randulph smiled at the fencing-master’s advice, and having arranged a meeting at the horseferry, Westminster, opposite Lambeth stairs, at half-past four o’clock, he took his departure with his uncle. They reached home in about half an hour, and Mr. Jukes expressed great delight at seeing them. It had been previously agreed, for fear of mistake, that Trussell should sit up all night, and call his nephew in sufficient time in the morning, and he therefore ordered Mr. Jukes to bring him a bottle of brandy, and a large jug of cold water. The butler obeyed, and took the opportunity of inquiring whether anything was the matter, but received no direct answer.
On retiring to his own room, Randulph threw himself into a chair, and turned over the events of the day. Amid a multitude of dark and disagreeable thoughts, was one that was bright and cheering. He had seen Hilda, avowed his passion to her, and received an assurance that he was not indifferent to her. This thought buoyed him up, and made him regard with indifference the danger to which he was exposed. His most painful reflections were connected with his mother, and knowing the anguish she would experience if anything should happen to him, he sat down and wrote a letter, full of filial affection and tenderness, to be delivered to her in case of his fall. This done, he threw himself on his couch, but his mind was too much disturbed to allow him to sleep. Long before it was light, he arose and dressed himself, and when Trussell entered the room, he was on his knees at the bedside, at prayer. On rising, he gave the letter he had written to the charge of his uncle, and they crept downstairs as softly as they could, for fear of disturbing anyone in the house. They then proceeded to the dining-room, where Trussell swallowed a glass of brandy to keep the cold out of his stomach, and recommended his nephew to do the same to steady his hand, but the latter, doubting the efficacy of the prescription, declined it. Their hope of getting away proved fallacious, for as they entered the hall on their way to the outer door, they found Abel standing there, wrapped in his dressing-gown.
“Randulph,” he said, eyeing his nephew severely— “You are going to fight a duel. It is useless to deny it. I am sure you are.”
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“I shall not attempt to deny it, sir,” replied Randulph; “I am.”
“He is going to fight two duels, brother,” said Trussell, emboldened by the brandy he had just swallowed.
“Two duels!” echoed Abel— “then he is doubly foolish — doubly cupable. Randulph, you are about to commit a very sinful and very foolish action, and though you may be justified in what you do by the laws of honour, and the usage of society, you will not be justified before Heaven.”
“Really, my dear sir,” said Trussell, “you view this matter much too seriously.”
“Not a whit,” replied Abel, “Randulph might stop if he would rather run the risk of offending his Maker than man.”
“Uncle,” said Randulph, “I cannot now argue with you; but I have good reasons for what I am about to do.”
“No reason can warrant bloodshed,” replied Abel, sternly. “Since you are deaf to my counsels, go. Yet think what a blow it will be to your mother, if she finds on her arrival, that she has lost her son.”
“I have thought of that, uncle,” replied Randulph; “and I have left a letter with my uncle Trussell. Perhaps, you will now permit me to commit its charge to you.”
“Here it is sir,” said Trussell, handing him the letter. “Time presses. We must be gone. We hope to back again with you at breakfast, and to make a hearty and merry meal. We are quite sorry to have disturbed you. Good morning, sir.”
Abel threw a severe and disgusted look at him, and then turning to Randulph, pressed his hand affectionately, and said, “I hope I may see you at breakfast, and with no blood on your soul.”
And with these words, he walked away.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 313
