Beau Brocade: A Romance

by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  THE AWAKENING

  John Stich could scarce contain himself for joy. Fate indeed and all theangels in heaven had ranged themselves on the side of his Captain.

  That Beau Brocade should have emerged unconquered after all out of theterrible position in which he was placed last night, seemed to theworthy smith nothing short of miraculous, and only accomplished throughthe special agency of heaven, whose most cherished child the gallanthighwayman most undoubtedly was, in his friend's enthusiasticestimation.

  For the moment, therefore, the kindly smith felt tolerably happy abouthis friend. The presence of His Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberlandwith his army corps in this part of the country would do much towardskeeping the Sergeant and soldiers' attention away from the Heath, at anyrate for a day or two. Perhaps the squad now quartered at Brassingtonwould be drafted to one of the regiments, and a fresh contingent,composed of men who'd have no special bone to pick with the highwayman,left behind for the still active hunt against the rebels.

  But this train of thought brought the faithful smith's mind back to theEarl of Stretton and the stolen letters. Reassured momentarily as tohis friend, he was still aware of the grave peril which threatened hisyoung lord.

  Neither he nor Lady Patience could conjecture what had become of theletters. Sir Humphrey Challoner, after his woeful adventure inBrassington, had condescended to accept Squire West's hospitality forthe nonce. Stich had spied him in the course of the morning, walking inthe direction of the village in close conversation with his familiar,Master Mittachip, attorney-at-law. In spite of the momentary respite inhis anxiety, the smith felt that there lay still the real danger to BeauBrocade and to Lord Stretton. Moreover, by now he longed to see hisfriend and to learn how he'd fared. Vaguely in his honest heart hefeared that the young man had succumbed on the Heath to pain andfatigue, and mayhap had failed to reach the forge.

  When he saw the entire population of Brassington busy with Jock Miggs,and the soldiers intent on the news from the Duke of Cumberland'sadvance guard, he determined to set out for the crossroads, in the hopesof finding the Captain at the forge.

  He had just crossed the green and turned into the narrow bridle-pathwhich led straight to his smithy, when he spied a yokel, dressed in along smock and wearing a broad-brimmed hat, coming slowly towards him.The man was leaning heavily on a thick knotted stick and seemed to bewalking with obvious pain and fatigue.

  Some unexplainable instinct caused the smith to wait awhile until theyokel came a little nearer. This corner of the village was quitedeserted; the laughter of the folk assembled round the Royal Georgecould be heard only as a distant echo from across the green. The nextmoment the smith uttered a quickly-suppressed cry of astonishment as herecognised Bathurst's face underneath the broad-brimmed hat.

  "Sh! ... sh ... sh!" whispered the young man hurriedly--"her ladyship?... can I see her?"

  "Yes! yes!" replied John, whose honest eyes were resting anxiously onhis friend's pallid face, "but you, Captain? ... you?..."

  He did not like to formulate the question, and Bathurst interrupted himquickly.

  "I've rested awhile at the forge, John ... your mother was an angel ...and now I want to see her ladyship."

  John's honest heart misgave him. His friend's fresh young voice soundedhoarse and unnatural, there was a restless, feverish glitter in hiseyes, and the slender, tapering hand which rested on the stick trembledvisibly.

  "You ought to be in bed, Captain," he muttered gruffly, "and well nursedtoo; you are ill..."

  "I am sufficiently alive, friend, at any rate to serve Lady Patience tothe end."

  "I'll go tell her ladyship," said the smith, with a sigh.

  "Say a man from the village would wish to speak with her.... Don'tmention my name, John ... she'll not know me, I think.... 'Tis bestthat she should not.... And I look a miserable object enough, don't I?"he added with a feeble laugh.

  "Her ladyship would command you to rest if she knew..."

  "I don't wish her to know, friend," said Jack, smiling in spite ofhimself at the good fellow's vehemence, "her tender pity would try towean me from my purpose, which is to serve her with the last breath leftin me. And now, quick, John.... Don't worry about me, old friend.... Iam only a little tired after that scramble on the Heath ... and thewound that limb of Satan dealt me is at times rather troublesome....But I am very tough, you know.... All my plans are made, and I'llfollow you at a little distance. Beg her ladyship to speak with me inthe passage of the inn ... 'twould excite too much attention if I wentup to her parlour.... No one'll know me, never fear."

  John knew of old how useless it was to argue with the Captain once hehad set his mind on a definite course of action. Without furtherprotest, therefore, and yet with a heavy heart, he turned and quicklywalked back through the village to the Packhorse, followed at somelittle distance by Bathurst.

  In order to arouse as little suspicion as possible, it had beennecessary for the young Earl of Stretton to mix from time to time withthe servant and the barman of the inn. He was supposed to be anadditional serving-man, come to help at the Packhorse in view of herladyship's unexpected stay there. In this out-of-the-way village ofBrassington no one knew him by sight, and he was in comparative safetyhere, until nightfall, when he meant to strike up country again forshelter.

  He was standing in the shadow behind the bar, when John Stich enteredthe parlour, bearing the message from Beau Brocade. The room was darkand narrow, over-filled with heavy clouds of tobacco smoke and with thedeafening clamour of loud discussions and exciting narratives carried onby two or three soldiers and some half-dozen villagers over profusetankards of ale.

  John Stich managed to reach Philip's ear without exciting attention.The young man at once slipped out of the room, in order to tell hissister that a yokel bearing important news would wish to speak with herprivately.

  Her heart beating with eagerness and apprehension, Patience hurried downthe narrow stairs, and in the passage found herself face to face with aman dressed in a long, dingy smock, and whose features she could notdistinguish beneath the broad brim of his hat.

  He raised a respectful hand to his forelock as soon as he was in herladyship's presence, but did not remove his hat.

  "You wished to speak with me, my man?" asked Lady Patience, eagerly.

  "I have a message for to deliver to Lady Patience Gascoyne," saidBathurst, whose voice, hoarse and quavering with fatigue, needed noassumption of disguise. He kept his head well bent, and the passage wasvery dark.

  Patience, with her thoughts fixed on the gallant, upright figure she hadlast seen so full of vitality and joy in the little inn-parlourupstairs, scarce gave more than a passing glance to the stooping form,leaning heavily on a stick before her.

  "Yes, yes," she said impatiently, "you have a message? From whom?"

  "I don't rightly know, my lady ... a gentleman 'twas ... on the Heaththis morning ... he give me this letter for your ladyship."

  Burying his tell-tale, slender hand well inside the capacious sleeve ofJock Miggs's smock, Bathurst handed Patience a note written by himself.She took it from him with a glad little cry, and when he turned to goshe put a restraining hand on his arm.

  "Wait till I've read the letter," she said, "I may wish to send ananswer."

  She unfolded the letter slowly, very slowly, he standing close besideher and watching the tears gathering in her eyes as she began to read,murmuring the words half audibly to herself:--

  "Have no fear. I have the letters, and with your permission will takethem straight to London. I have a powerful friend there who will helpme to place them before the King and Council without delay. To carrythis safely through it is important that I should not be seen again inBrassington, as Sir Humphrey Challoner luckily has lost track of me forthe moment, and I can be at Wirksworth before nightfall, and on my wayto London before another dawn. Your enemy will keep watch on _yo
u_, so Ientreat you to stay in Brassington so as to engage his attention, whilstI go to London with the letters. His lordship would be safest, I think,in the cottage of old Widow Coggins at Aldwark. It has been my goodfortune to do her some small service; she'll befriend his lordship formy sake. John Stich will convey him thither as soon as maybe. Ientreat you to be of good cheer. A few days will see your brother afree man, and rid you for ever of your enemy. Believe me, the plan Ihave had the honour to set forth is safe and quick, and on my knees Ibeg you to allow me to carry it through in your service."

  She folded the letter and then slipped it into the folds of her gown.

  Through the open doorway behind her a ray of sunshine came shyly peepingin, framing her graceful figure with a narrow fillet of gold. They werealone in the passage, and she, intent upon the precious letter, wastaking no notice of him: thus he could feast his eyes once more upon hisdream, his beautiful white rose, drooping with the dew, the gracefulsilhouette outlined against the sunlit picture beyond, the queenly head,with its wealth of soft golden hair, bent with rapt attention on theletter which trembled in her hand.

  His whole being ached with mad passionate longing for her, his lipsburned with a desire to cover her neck and throat with kisses, yet hewould have knelt on the flagstones before her and worshipped as did thesaints before Our Lady's shrine. In his heart was a great joy that hecould do her service, and a strange, wild hope that he might die forher.

  "The gentleman who gave you this letter..." she said with a slight catchin her low, melodious voice. "You saw him? ... He was well? ... How didhe look?..."

  Her eyes now were swimming in tears, and Bathurst had much ado to stillthe mad beating of his heart, and to force his voice to a natural tone.

  "Lud, my lady," he said, "but he was just like any other body Oithought."

  "Not ill?"

  "Noa! noa! not that Oi could see."

  "Go back to him, friend," she said, with sudden eagerness, "tell himthat he must come to me at once ... I ... I would speak with him."

  It required all Bathurst's firm strength of will not to betray himselfbefore her. The tender pleading in her eyes, the gentle, womanlysympathy in her voice, set all his pulses beating. But he had made uphis mind that she should not know him just then. A look, a cry, mightgive him away, and there was but one chance now to be of useful serviceto her, and that was to take the letters at once to London, whilst theirjoint enemy had for the nonce no thought of him.

  Therefore he contrived to say quite stolidly,--

  "Noa, noa, the gentleman said to Oi, 'You can bring a message, but th'lady mustn't come nigh me!'"

  She gave a quick little sigh of disappointment.

  "Then, my good fellow," she said, "try to remember ... tell him ... tellhim ... I would wish to thank him ... tell him.... Nay! nay!" shesuddenly added, pulling a faded white rose from her belt, "tell himnothing ... but give him this flower ... in token that I have receivedhis letter ... and will act as he bids me.... You'll remember?"

  He dared not trust himself to speak, but as she held out the rose to himhe took it from her hand and involuntarily his finger-tips came incontact with hers just for a second ... long enough for the divinemagnetism of his great love to pass from him to her.

  She seized hold of his hand, for in that one magnetic touch she hadrecognised him. Her heart gave a great leap of joy, the joy of beingnear him once more, of again feeling the tender, grey eyes resting withpassionate longing on her face. But she uttered neither cry nor word,for it was a great, silent and godlike moment--when at last sheunderstood.

  He had stooped still lower and rested his burning lips upon her coolfingers, and upon the rose which she had worn at her breast.

  Neither of them spoke, for their hearts were in perfect unison, theirwhole being thrilled with the wild, jubilant echo of a divine hosanna,and around them the legions of God's angels made a rampart of snow-whitewings, to shut out all the universe from them, leaving them alone withtheir love.

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  A LIFE FOR A LIFE

  That moment was brief, as all such great and happy moments are.

  But a few seconds had passed since both her hands had rested in his, andhe forgot the world in that one kiss upon her finger-tips.

  The next instant a fast-approaching noise of hurrying footsteps,accompanied by much shouting, roused them from their dream.

  Both through the back and the front door a crowd of excited soldiers hadpushed their way into the inn, whilst the folk in the bar-parlour,attracted by the sudden noise, pressed out into the narrow passage tosee what was happening.

  John Stich, foremost amongst these, made a rush for Patience's side.She found herself suddenly pressed back towards the foot of the stairs,and face to face with a noisy group of village folk, through which theSergeant and some half-dozen soldiers were roughly pushing their way.

  She looked round her, helpless and bewildered. Jack Bathurst haddisappeared.

  The whole thing had occurred in the brief space of a few seconds, evenbefore Patience had had time to realise that anything was amiss.

  The narrow staircase, at the foot of which she now stood, led straightup to the private parlour, where Philip was even now awaiting herreturn.

  "Out of the way, you rascals," the Sergeant was shouting, whilstelbowing his way through the small group of gaping yokels, and pressingforward towards the stairs.

  "Will your ladyship allow me the privilege of conducting you out of thiscrowd?" said a suave voice at Patience's elbow.

  Sir Humphrey Challoner, closely followed by the obsequious Mittachip,had pushed his way into the inn, in the wake of the soldiers, and wasnow standing between her and the crowd, bowing very deferentially andoffering her his arm, to conduct her upstairs.

  But a few moments ago he had heard the startling news that Jock Miggshad been captured on the Heath, in mistake for Beau Brocade. As far asSir Humphrey could ascertain nothing of importance had been found on theshepherd's person, and in a moment he realised that, through almostsupernatural cunning, the highwayman must have succeeded in filching theletters, and by now had no doubt once more restored them to LadyPatience.

  All the scheming, the lying, the treachery of the past few days hadtherefore been in vain; but Sir Humphrey Challoner was not the man togive up a definite purpose after the first material check to his plans.If her ladyship was once more in possession of the letters, they must begot away from her again. That was all. And if that cursed highwaymanwas still free to-day, 'sdeath but he'll have to hang on the morrow.

  In the meanwhile Philip's momentary safety was a matter of the greatestmoment to Sir Humphrey Challoner. If that clumsy lout of a Sergeant gothold of the lad, all Sir Humphrey's schemes for forcing Lady Patience'sacceptance of his suit by means of the precious letters wouldnecessarily fall to the ground.

  But instinctively Patience recoiled from him; his suave words, hispresence near her at this terrible crisis, frightened her moreeffectually than the Sergeant's threatening attitude. She drew close toJohn Stich, who had interposed his burly figure between the soldiers andthe foot of the stairs.

  "Out of the way, John Stich," shouted the Sergeant, peremptorily, "thisis not your forge, remember, and by G---- I'll not be tricked again."

  "Those are her ladyship's private rooms," retorted the smith, withoutyielding one inch of the ground. "Landlord," he shouted at the top ofhis voice, "I call upon you to protect her ladyship from theseruffians."

  "You insult His Majesty's uniform," quoth the Sergeant, briefly, "and doyourself no good, smith. As for the landlord of this inn, he interferes'tween me and my duty at his peril."

  "But by what right do you interfere with me, Master Sergeant?" hereinterposed Lady Patience, trying to assume an indifferent air of calmhaughtiness. "Do you know who I am?"

  "Aye! that I do, my lady!" responded the Sergeant, gruffly, "and that'swhat's brought me here this morning. Not half an hour ag
o I heard thatLady Patience Gascoyne was staying at the Packhorse, and now the folkssay that a new serving-man came to give a helping hand here. He arrivedin the middle of the night, it seems. Strange time for a serving-man toturn up, ain't it?"

  "I know nothing of any servant at this inn, and I order you at once towithdraw your men, and not to dare further to molest me."

  "Your pardon, my lady, but my orders is my orders: I have been sent hereby His Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland hisself to hunt out all therebels who are in hiding in these parts. I've strict orders to be onthe lookout for Philip James Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton, who, Iunderstand, is your ladyship's own brother, and as I've a right o'search, I mean to see who else is staying in those rooms upstairsbesides your ladyship."

  "This is an outrage, Sergeant!"

  "Maybe, my lady," he retorted drily, "but with us soldiers orders isorders, saving your presence. I was tricked at the smithy, and again onthe Heath. My belief is that we were hunting a bogey last night, Theremay or mayn't be any highwayman called Beau Brocade, but there was afine young gallant at the forge the day afore yesterday, who did for meand my men, and I'll take my oath that he was none other than the rebel,Philip Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton."

  "'Tis false and you talk like a madman, Sergeant."

  "Maybe! but your ladyship'll please stand aside until I've searchedthose rooms upstairs, or I'll have to order my men to lay hands on yourladyship. Now then, John Stich, stand aside in the name of the King!"

  John Stich did not move, and Lady Patience still stood defiant andhaughty at the foot of the stairs. The villagers, stolid and stupid,were staring open-mouthed, not daring to interfere. But of course itwas only a question of seconds, the worthy smith could not guard thestaircase for long against the Sergeant and a dozen soldiers, and in anycase nothing would be of any avail. Philip in the room upstairs wastrapped like a fox in its lair, and nothing could save him now fromfalling into the soldiers' hands.

  In vain she sought for Bathurst among the crowd: with wild, unreasoningagony she longed for him in this moment of her greatest need, and he wasnot there. She felt sure that if only he were near her he would thinkof something, do something, to avert the appalling catastrophe.

  "I give your ladyship one minute's time to stand quietly aside," saidthe Sergeant, roughly. "After that I give my men orders to lay hands onyou, and on any one who dares to interfere."

  "Give me the letters," whispered Sir Humphrey Challoner, insinuatingly,in her ear. "I can yet save your brother."

  "How?" she murmured involuntarily.

  He looked up towards the top of the stairs.

  "Then he _is_ up there?"

  She did not reply. It was useless to deny it, the next few momentswould bring the inevitable.

  "Stand back, Sergeant," quoth John Stich, defiantly. "I have the honourto protect her ladyship's person against any outrage from you."

  "Good words, smith," retorted the Sergeant, "but I tell ye I've beentricked twice by you and I mean to know the reason why. Let herladyship allow me to search the room upstairs and I'll not lay hands onher."

  "Ye shall not pass," repeated the smith, obstinately.

  "The letters," whispered Sir Humphrey, "give me the letters and I pledgeyou my honour that I can save him yet."

  But half mad with terror and misery, scornful, defiant, she turned onhim.

  "Your honour!" she said, with infinite contempt.

  But in her inmost heart she murmured in agonised despair,--

  "What's to be done? Oh, God, protect him!"

  "Stand back, John Stich," repeated the Sergeant, for the third time, "orI give my men the order to charge. Now then, my men!"

  "Ye shall not pass!" was the smith's persistent, obstinate answer to thechallenge.

  "Forward!" shouted the soldier in a loud voice. "Into it, my men! Useyour bayonets if anyone interferes with ye!"

  The soldiers, nothing loth, were ready for the attack: there had alreadybeen too much parleying to suit their taste. They had been baffled toooften in the last few days to be in the mood to dally with a woman, beshe her ladyship or no.

  With a loud cry they made a dash for the stairway, which behind Stichand Lady Patience lost itself in the gloom above.

  And it was from out this darkness that at this moment a light-hearted,fresh young voice struck upon the astonished ears of all those present.

  "Nay! too much zeal, friend Stich. Stand aside, I pray you. Faith!it'll give me great pleasure to converse with these gallant lobsters."

  And Jack Bathurst, pushing the bewildered smith gently to one side, camedown the stairs with a smile upon his face, calm, debonnair, dressed asfor a feast.

  He had discarded Jock Miggs's long smock, broad-brimmed hat andkerchief, and appeared in all the gorgeous finery of the beautifullavender-scented clothes, he had donned at the forge with the kindly aidof Mistress Stich. He was still very pale and there were a few lines ofweariness and of bodily pain round the firm, sensitive mouth, but hisgrey eyes, deep-sunk and magnetic, glowed with the keen fire of intenseexcitement. The coat of fine blue cloth set off his tall, trim figureto perfection. His left hand was tucked into the opening of hisexquisitely embroidered waistcoat, and dainty ruffles of delicateMechlin lace adorned his neckcloth and wrists. As he appeared there,handsome, foppish and smiling, 'twas no wonder that the countryside hadnicknamed him Beau Brocade.

  "Well! my gallant friend!" he said, addressing the Sergeant, since thelatter seemed too astonished to speak, "what is it you want with me,eh?"

  The Sergeant was gradually recovering his breath. Fate apparently wasplaying into his hands. It was almost too bewildering for any bluffsoldier to realise, but it certainly seemed pretty clear that the rebelEarl of Stretton and Beau Brocade the highwayman were one and the sameperson.

  "You are Philip Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton?" he asked at last.

  "Faith! you've guessed that, have you?" responded Bathurst, gaily."Odd's life, 'tis marvellous how much penetration lies hidden beneaththat becoming coat of yours."

  "Then, Philip Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton, you are attainted byParliament for high treason, and I arrest you in the name of the King!"

  There were indeed many conflicting emotions raging in the hearts of allthose present whilst this brief colloquy was going on.

  John Stich, accustomed to implicit obedience where his Captain's actionswere concerned, had not dared to speak or stir. Sir Humphrey Challoner,completely thrown off his mental balance by the unexpected appearance ofBathurst, was hastily trying to make up his bewildered mind as to whatwas now best to be done.

  As to Patience herself, at first a great, an overwhelming joy and pridehad seized her at the thought that he was near her now, that he had notdeserted her in the hour of her greatest need, that once again he hadinterposed his magnetic, powerful personality between her and the dangerwhich threatened her and Philip.

  It was only when the Sergeant's momentous words, "I arrest you in thename of the King!" rang out clearly and decisively above the loud tumultwhich was beating in her heart, that she became aware of the deadlyperil which threatened the man she loved.

  True, he had come once more between her and danger, but once again hehad done it at risk of his life, and was like at last to lay it down forher.

  She had been standing a little to one side, turning, as all had done,toward the elegant, foppish figure in the fine clothes and daintyruffles of lace, but now she stepped forward with mad, unreasoningimpulse, thrusting herself between him and the Sergeant, and trying toshield him behind the folds of her cloak.

  "No! no! no! no!" she said excitedly. "Sergeant, 'tis all a mistake! ...I swear..."

  But already Jack Bathurst had bent forward, and had contrived towhisper, unheard by all save her,--

  "Hush--sh--your brother ... remember his danger..."

  "Your pardon, lady," said the Sergeant, seeing that she paused,irresolute, not knowing what to do in face of this terrible alternativewhich was confronting he
r. "Your pardon, lady, but this gentleman isPhilip, Earl of Stretton, is he not?"

  "For your brother's sake," whispered Bathurst once more.

  "No ... yes ... Oh! my God!" murmured Patience, in the agony of thisappalling misery.

  Her brother or the man she loved. One or the other betrayed by one wordfrom her, now at this moment, with no time to pray to God for help orguidance, no chance of giving her own life for both!

  "Out on you, friend," said Bathurst, lightly, "do you not see herladyship is upset. Nay! have no fear, I'll follow you quietly!" headded, seeing that the Sergeant and soldiers were making a motion tosurround him, "but you'll grant me leave to say farewell to my sister?"

  The Sergeant could not very well refuse. He was at heart a humane man,and now that he was sure of this important capture, he would have done agood deal to ingratiate himself, through little acts of courtesy, withLady Patience Gascoyne.

  However, he had no mind to be tricked again, and in face of an almostimmediate execution for high treason, the prisoner seemedextraordinarily self-possessed and cheerful. But for her ladyship'sobvious despair and sorrow, the worthy Sergeant might even now have hadsome misgivings.

  As it was, he told off three men to mount the stairs, and to stand onguard at the top of them, in case the prisoner made a dash that way, inthe hopes of reaching the roof. The Sergeant still kept an idea in hismind that some supernatural agency was at work in favour of thisextraordinary man, who up to now had seemed to bear a charmed life. Hehad the little narrow passage and hall of the inn cleared of the gapingyokels, who went off one by one, scratching their addled polls,wondering what it all meant, and who was Beau Brocade. Was he the Earlof Stretton? was he the highwayman? or some pixie from the Heath withpower to change himself at will?

  Sir Humphrey Challoner retired within the shadow of the stairway. Onthe whole he preferred to leave the events to shape their own course.In one way Fate had befriended him. Whether hanged in his own name orin that of the Earl of Stretton, the highwayman would within the nextfew hours be safely out of the way, and then it would be easier no doubtto obtain possession of the letters once again.

  He too like the Sergeant and soldiers, felt an instinctive dread ofsupernatural agency in connection with Beau Brocade. In these daysthere existed still a deeply-rooted belief in witchcraft, and theeducated classes were not altogether proof against the popularsuperstitions.

  Sir Humphrey had a curious, intense hatred for the man who had sochivalrously championed Lady Patience's cause. His own love for her wasso selfish and lustful that overpowering jealousy formed its chiefcharacteristic. He was frantically, madly jealous of Jack Bathurst, forwith the keen eyes of the scorned suitor, he had noted the look of joyand pride in her face when the young man first appeared on the stairs,and he alone of all those present knew how to interpret her obviousdespair, her terrible misery, when brought face to face with the awfulalternative of giving up her brother or the man she loved.

  Sir Humphrey swore some heavy oaths under his breath at thought of thescorn with which she had rejected him. Womanlike, she had yielded tothe blandishments of that thief, and proud Lady Patience Gascoyne hadfallen in love with a highwayman!

  But now Fate meant to be kind to Sir Humphrey. With that chivalrouscoxcomb out of the way, Lady Patience would be once more at his mercy.Philip was still a fugitive under the ban of attainder, and the letterscould be got hold of once again, unless indeed the devil, with an armyof witches and evil sprites, came to the assistance of that rascal BeauBrocade.