Kitabı oku: «Thereby Hangs a Tale. Volume One», sayfa 6

The Lion at Home

Sir Hampton Rea was out that morning, and very busy.

He had been round to the stables and seen the four horses that had arrived the night before, and bullied the coachman because he had said that one of them had a splinter in its leg, and that the mare meant for Miss Rea had rather a nasty look about the eye.

“You’re an ass, Thomas,” he said.

The man touched his hat, and Sir Hampton walked half across the stable-yard.

“Er-rum!” he ejaculated, half turning; and the coachman came up, obsequiously touching his hat again.

“Those horses, Thomas, were examined by a veterinary surgeon.”

“Yes, sir,” said the man.

“Er-rum! And I chose them and examined them myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve made a mistake, Thomas.”

“Very like, sir,” said the man. “Very sorry, sir.”

Sir Hampton did not respond, but gave a sharp glance round the very new-looking stable-yard and buildings, saw nothing to find fault about; and then, clearing his throat, went into the garden as the coachman winked at the groom, and the groom raised a wen upon his cheek by the internal application of his tongue.

“Er-rum! – Sanders!” cried the knight.

And something that had worn the aspect of a huge boa constrictor in cord trousers, crawling into a melon-frame, slowly drew itself back, stood upright, and revealed a yellow-faced man with a scarlet head and whiskers.

Perhaps it is giving too decided a colour to the freckles which covered Mr Sanders’s face to say they were yellow, and to his hair to say it was scarlet; but they certainly approached those hues, “Er-rum! Sanders, come here,” said Sir Hampton.

Sanders leisurely closed the melon-frame and raised the light a few inches with a piece of wood, and then slowly approached his master, to stop in front of him and scrape his feet upon a spade.

“Er-rum! I’m going to inspect the grounds this morning, Sanders,” said Sir Hampton.

Sanders, head gardener, nodded; for he was a man so accustomed to deal with silent objects that he seldom spoke, if he could possibly help it; but here he was obliged.

“Shall I want a spade?”

“No; certainly not.”

“Nor a barrow?”

“No!” sharply.

“Maybe ye’ll like me to bring a billhook?”

“Er-rum! No. Yes; bring a billhook.”

The gardener went slowly off to his tool-house, and returned as leisurely; Sir Hampton the while fiercely poking vegetables about with his stick – stirring up cabbages, as if angry because they did not grow – beet, for having too much top-onions, for not swelling more satisfactorily – and ending with a vicious cut at a wasp bent on a feast of nectarine beneath the great, new, red-brick wall.

Wasp did not like it. Ignorant of any doctrine concerning meum and tuum, he looked upon all fruit as pro bono publico, as far as the insect world was concerned. The nectarines might be choicely named varieties, planted by Sir Hampton’s order, after having been obtained at considerable expense – the wall having been built for their use; but fruit was fruit to the wasp, so long as it was ripe, and he resented interference. Pugnacity was crammed to excess in his small, yellow body, and prevented from bursting it by a series of strong black rings; so it was not surprising that the insect showed fight, and span round the new magistrate’s head with a fierce buzz.

“Css! Get out! Sh!” ejaculated Sir Hampton; and he struck at the wasp again and again. But the little insect was no respecter of persons. He had been insulted, and, watching his opportunity, he dashed in, and stung the knight in the tender red mark where his stiffly starched cravat frayed his neck, gave a triumphant buzz, and went over the wall like a yellow streak.

“Confound! Ugh!” ejaculated the knight; and then, seeing Sanders coming slowly back, he played Spartan, and preserved outward composure, though there was a volcano of wrath smouldering within.

He strutted off, with the gardener behind, fired a couple of shots at gardeners two and three, who were sweeping the lawn, and then entered into a general inspection of the garden.

“How – Er-rum! – how is it that bed is not in flower, Sanders?” “Done blooming,” said Sanders, gruffly.

“Done blooming, Sir Hampton!” exclaimed the knight, facing round.

“Done blooming, Sir Hampton,” said the gardener, slowly; and he looked as expressionless as a big sunflower.

“Take off that branch,” said the knight, pointing to an overhanging bough; and it was solemnly lopped off.

“Er-rum!” ejaculated the knight, when they had gone a little farther. “How is it that patch of lawn is brown?”

“Grubs,” said the gardener.

“Grubs, Sir Hampton,” said the knight, fiercely.

“Grubs, Sir Hampton,” said the corrected gardener.

“Ha!” said Sir Hampton, and they went a little farther.

“Those Wellingtonias are not growing, Sanders.”

“Two foot this year,” said the gardener.

“That’s very slow.”

“Fast,” said the gardener.

“Fast, Sir Hampton,” said the knight.

“Fast, Sir Hampton,” said the gardener, corrected again.

“Er-rum! Ah! This won’t do. This clump must be moved farther to the right,” said Sir Hampton, pointing to a cluster of shrubs.

“Kill ’em,” said Sanders.

“Then we’ll set more,” said the knight; and he went on to the farthest entrance of the garden, and the paths cut through the plantation, with a general desire exhibited in his every act, that as he had, so to speak, made the place and planted the grounds, it was absolutely necessary that he should have all the trees pulled up at stated intervals, to see how the roots were getting along.

There was a small iron gate at the end of the plantation walk, and this the gardener opened for his master to pass through, closing it after him, and sticking the billhook in his breast.

“Er-rum! Where are you going, Sanders?” said the knight, sharply.

“Back,” said Sanders – “’taint garden here.”

His domain extended no farther.

“Come along this moment, sir; and stop till I dismiss you.”

The knight looked purple as the gardener slowly unlatched the gate, and followed him about a quarter of a mile, to where the estate joined that of the Trevors; and here, as they neared the pastures, angry voices were heard.

“Quick, Sanders,” cried Sir Hampton – “trespassers!”

The next minute they were upon an angry group, consisting of Trevor, Pratt, Humphrey, a man with a sinister look and a mouth like a rat-trap, and a stumpy fellow, who was armed with a long plashing hook.

“Er-rum! what’s this?” exclaimed Sir Hampton, with the voice of authority.

“These men of yours, Sir Hampton,” said Humphrey, flushed and angry, “always trespassing across our ground.”

“My servants would do nothing of the sort, fellow,” said Sir Hampton.

“But they have done it, Sir Hampton,” said Humphrey. “There they are; there’s their footmarks right across the field; and they’re always at it, and breaking down the bushes.”

“Hold your tongue, Humphrey,” said Trevor. “I beg your pardon – Sir Hampton Rea, I believe?”

The wasp sting, kept back so long, now came out.

“And pray, sir, why are you trespassing on my grounds?” exclaimed the knight, furiously.

“Excuse me, I am on my own,” said Trevor.

“Your own! I never heard such insolence in my life. Who are you, sir? What the devil are you? Where do you come from?”

“Well,” said Trevor, with a red spot coming into each cheek, but speaking quite coolly, “my name is Trevor. I am the owner of Penreife, and I have lately returned from sea.”

“Then – then – go back to sea, sir, or get off my grounds; or, by gad, sir, my labourers shall kick you off.”

The men advanced menacingly; but, with a face like fire, Humphrey rolled up his cuffs.

“Humphrey! Stop; how dare you!” exclaimed Trevor, angrily.

The young keeper drew back, grinding his teeth; for the others continued to advance, and the rat-trap-mouthed man, finding Juno, the dog, smelling about him, gave the poor brute a kick, which produced a loud yelp.

“Excuse me, Sir Hampton, but – ”

“Get off my grounds, sir, this instant!” roared the knight.

Wasp sting again.

“Look here,” said Pratt, “if it’s a question of boundary, any solicitor will look through the deeds, and a surveyor measure, and put it all right in – ”

“Who the devil is this little cad?” exclaimed Sir Hampton.

“Cad?” cried Pratt.

“Yes, sir, cad. Oh! I thought I knew you again. Yes; you are one of that gang on the omnibus who insulted me the other day. And – and – ” he stammered in his rage, turning to Trevor, “you were another of the party. Get off my grounds, sir – this instant, sir. Darley, Sanders, Kelynack – drive these fellows off!”

The three men advanced, and Sir Hampton took the general’s place in the rear, quivering still with rage and the poison of the wasp. Trevor was now flushed and angry, and Humphrey evidently ripe for any amount of assault or resistance, when Pratt stepped forward and laid his hand upon the arm of the angry knight.

Hebe

“Stand back, sir – get off my ground, sir!” cried Sir Hampton, furiously. “Look here, men, this is – er-rum – an assault.”

“No, it is not, Sir Hampton,” said Pratt, coolly. “Look here, my good man.”

“Your good man, sir?”

“Yes,” said Pratt, quietly; and there was something in the little fellow that enforced attention. “You are, I believe, a magistrate here – for the county?”

“Yes, sir; I am, sir; and – er-rum – ”

“Be cool – be cool,” said Pratt, “You called me a cad just now.”

“I did, sir; and – ”

“Well, I am a barrister – of the Temple. There is my card.”

He stuck the little piece of pasteboard into the magistrate’s hand.

“Confound your card, sir! I – ”

“Now – now, look here,” said Pratt, button-holing him; “don’t be cross. Let me ask you this – Is it wise of you – a justice of the peace – to set your men on, right or wrong, to break that peace?”

Sir Hampton Rea stopped short for a moment or two, and then gasped, seemed as if he would choke, and ended by snatching his coat away from Pratt’s grasp.

“Darley, Sanders, come back – go back,” he said at last. “These people shall hear from me.”

The rat-trap man stood looking evilly at the young keeper, and the Scotch gardener took a pinch of snuff. Then they slowly followed their master, and the coast was clear.

“You’re sure, I suppose, about this tongue of land?” said Pratt. “By Jove! what a rage, though, the old boy was in.”

“Sure? yes – oh yes,” said Trevor. “Wasn’t it here that they sunk the shaft for the copper mine, Humphrey?”

“Yes, sir, twenty yards farther on, under that clump. It’s ’most filled up, though, now.”

“To be sure, I recollect the spot well enough now. But this is a bad job, Franky,” he continued, in an undertone. “I wanted to be on the best of terms with my neighbours.”

“’Specially that neighbour,” said Pratt, meaningly.

“With all my neighbours,” said Trevor.

“You’ve made a nice beginning, then,” said Pratt.

“If there is any fresh upset, Humphrey, let me know; but don’t pick a quarrel,” said Trevor. “I shall not go any farther to-day.”

“Very well, sir,” said the keeper; and then in an undertone, as he stooped and patted the dog, “Kick you, would he, Juno, lass? Never mind, then, he shall have it back some day.”

The dog whined and leaped up at him, as he rose again, and looked after his master.

“Well, he’s grown into a fine, bold-speaking gentleman,” he said to himself; “but I should have liked it better if he’d tackled to and helped me to thrash them two ill-looking blackguards.”

Meanwhile Trevor and his old schoolfellow had been walking sharply back towards the house, where they were evidently being watched for by the old butler, Lloyd – the remains of a fine-looking man, for he was bent now, though his eyes were clear and bright.

“I saw you coming across the park, Master Dick,” he said, his face shining with pleasure. “You’ll have a bit of lunch now, won’t you?”

“Early yet, isn’t it?” said Pratt.

“I don’t think so, sir,” said the old butler, austerely. “I am sure Master Dick requires something after his long walk.”

“Yes, yes – that he does,” said a rather shrill voice; and an active, grey-haired woman of about fifty came bustling out. She was very primly dressed in black silk, with white muslin kerchief, white holland apron, in whose pockets her hands rested; and her grey hair was carefully smoothed back beneath her plain white muslin cap.

“No, no; it’s only twelve o’clock, Mrs Lloyd,” said Trevor, good-humouredly. “I lunch at one.”

“You take my advice, Master Dick, and have it now,” said the butler.

“Yes, Lloyd, have it brought in, and ask Master Dick if he’ll have some of the old claret,” said the woman.

“My dear Mrs Lloyd,” said Trevor, smiling, “this is very kind of you – of you both – but I’m not ready for lunch yet. You can both go now. I’ll ring when I’m ready.”

He led the way into his handsomely furnished study, the beau ideal of a comfortable room for a man with a mingling of literary and sporting tastes.

“Here, let’s sit down and have a cigar,” he said, pushing a great leather-covered chair to his friend; “it will smooth us down after our encounter.”

“No; I’ll fill my pipe,” said Pratt, suiting the action to the word, and lighting up, to send big clouds of smoke through the large room.

“You mustn’t take any notice of the old butler and housekeeper, Frank,” said Trevor, after a pause.

“Don’t mean to.”

“You see, they’ve had their own way here since I was a child.”

“And now they don’t like to give it up?”

“I suppose not. But they mean well. They were always, I can remember, most affectionate to me.”

“Yes; they seem to like Master Dick.”

“Pish! yes, of course – their way. Sounds stupid, though, Franky; but you can’t wonder at it.”

“I don’t,” said Pratt. “But I should put my foot down, I think.”

“That I most decidedly shall, and before Van and the little Baronet come down.”

“Oh, by Jove!” said Pratt, starting, “why those two fellows are coming to-morrow.”

“Yes; they’ll be here about five.”

“And what in the world are you going to do with them?”

“Oh, there’s plenty to do – billiards, and cards, and smoking indoors; fishing and yachting out of doors.”

“Yes,” said Pratt, with a sigh; “but they’ll both be murmuring after the flesh-pots of Pall Mall. You’ll have your hands pretty full.”

“Never fear,” said Trevor; “I shall be able to entertain them. How strange it all seems, though – such a little while since we were boys at Eton, and now Van a perfect exquisite.”

“Landells an imperfect ditto.”

“You a barrister.”

“Yes,” said Pratt, “very barrister, indeed; and you altered into a tawny tar, regularly disguised by Nature.”

Here there was a tap at the door. “Come in,” said Trevor, who was sitting in a low, big-backed chair. And then, as the door opened, “Who is it?”

“Hebe!” said Pratt, softly.

“Eh?” said Trevor.

“If you please, sir, Mrs Lloyd said I was to bring this in,” said a pleasant little voice; and Trevor swung himself round in his chair, to gaze upon a pretty little very round-faced girl of about seventeen or eighteen, with smooth brown hair, clear white complexion, rather large eyes, ruddy lips, and a face like fire with confusion. There were the faint traces, too, of tears lately wiped from her eyes, and her pleasant little voice had a plaintive ring in it as, in answer to Trevor’s “Eh?” and wondering stare, she repeated her words —

“If you please, sir, Mrs Lloyd said I was to bring this in.”

“And pray what is this?” said Trevor, glancing at the salver the girl carried, bearing a good-sized silver flagon, with chased lid, and a snowy napkin placed through the handle.

“If you please, sir, it’s a pint of new milk beat up with three eggs, three glasses of sherry, and some lump sugar,” said the girl.

“And who’s it for?” said Trevor.

“For you and the gentleman, sir; Mrs Lloyd said the sea air must have made you faint.”

“Well,” said Trevor, “hand it to Mr Pratt, there.”

The girl bore the flagon to Pratt, who took it, but emitted such a volume of strong tobacco smoke that the girl sneezed, and choked, and then looked more scarlet and confused than ever.

“I beg your pardon,” said Pratt; and then he raised the flagon to his lips, and took a long draught, wiping the brim afterwards with the napkin. “Splendid, old fellow!” he said. “Take it to – your master.”

“And pray who may you be, my dear?” said Trevor, looking critically at the girl, but relieving her from his gaze the next moment, in compassion for her confusion.

“If you please, sir, I’m Aunt Lloyd’s niece,” said the girl.

“And are you anything here – housemaid, or – ?”

“Oh no, sir, if you please. I am here on a long visit to my aunt; and she said I was to help her.”

“Well,” said Trevor, setting down the flagon, “tell her the milk was excellent; but she is not to send anything in again without I ring for it. Well, what’s the matter?”

The girl was looking in a pitiful way at him, and she remained silent for a few moments, when he spoke again.

“Is anything the matter?”

“Must – must I tell her that, sir?”

“Yes. Why not?” said Trevor.

“Because – because, if you please, sir, I…”

The girl did not finish, but uttered a sob, and ran out of the room.

“Cornwall promises to be a queer place,” said Pratt; “but that stuff was heavenly – did you finish it, Dick?”

“Not quite, I think,” said Trevor.

“And you sent it away. Oh, Dick!”

The little maid had hardly got outside the door, when Mrs Lloyd came across the hall, followed at a short distance by the butler, rubbing his hands, smiling feebly, and looking anxious.

“Crying?” said Mrs Lloyd, sharply. “You little goose!”

“I – I – couldn’t help it, aunt, indeed,” sobbed the girl.

“’Sh! not a sound,” said Mrs Lloyd, sharply; and she caught the girl by the arm. “Did he drink the milk?”

“Yes, aunt.”

“Did that other gentleman take any?”

“Yes, aunt – a lot.”

“As if he couldn’t come home without bringing such a pack with him. Now come into my room, and I’ll talk to you, madam. Lloyd, take that waiter.”

She led the way into the housekeeper’s room, as her husband obediently bore off the flagon to his pantry; and then, shutting the door, she took her seat in a stiff, horse-hair-covered chair, looking as hard and prim as the presses and cupboards around.

“Now listen to me,” she said, harshly.

“Yes, aunt.”

“I’m not going to boast; but what have I done for you?”

“Paid for my schooling, aunt, and kept me three years.”

“Where would you have been if it hadn’t been for me?”

“Living with Aunt Price at Caerwmlych.”

“Starving with her, you mean, when she can hardly keep herself,” said Mrs Lloyd, sharply. “Now, look here, Polly, I’ve taken you from a life of misery to make you well off and happy; and I will be minded. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, aunt.”

“Then do as I tell you exactly. Do you hear?”

“I’ll try, aunt.”

“Try? You must. Now, then: Did he speak to you?”

“Yes, aunt.”

“What did he say? Come, speak, child!”

“He asked me who I was, aunt; and what I had come for.”

“Of course, you silly little thing. There, no more tears. It’s dreadful treatment, isn’t it, to make you go in and attend to him a little?”

“Please, aunt, I don’t mind that,” said the girl.

“No, I should think not, indeed,” said Mrs Lloyd. “He’s an ogre to look at, isn’t he?”

“No, aunt, I think he’s a fine, handsome man.”

“Not a finer, nor a handsomer, nor a nicer in all Cornwall: and you ought to be fine and pleased to be in the house. And now look here, madam – no more tears, if you please.”

“No, aunt.”

“And you’re always to be nicely dressed, and do your hair well.”

“Yes, aunt.”

“And keep yourself to yourself, madam. Recollect, please, that you’re my niece, staying in the house, and not one of the servants.”

“Yes, aunt.”

The door opened, and the butler put in his head.

“It’s lunch-time now, and I am having the things taken in again.”

“That’s quite right.”

“Do you want to come?”

“Not now; only Mary shall bring in the vegetables.”

“Hadn’t William better help?” said the butler.

“No, not to-day. There will be a pack more people here to-morrow, and she can’t come then. Here, child, take these clean napkins and be ready to carry them into the dining-room.”

“But my face, aunt – won’t they see?”

“What – that you have been crying?” said the housekeeper, critically. “No; they won’t. Stop here a minute while I go out into the hall.”

The girl, from being scarlet, was now pale, but quite a little “rustic beauty” all the same; and she stood by the linen press looking very troubled, while Mrs Lloyd went back into the hall, where Trevor had stepped out to speak to the butler.

“Oh, there you are, Mrs Lloyd,” he said, in a quiet, decided tone of voice. “I was just speaking to Lloyd about one or two little matters. Of course, I feel the highest respect for both you and your worthy husband.”

“Thank you, Master Dick,” said the housekeeper, stiffly.

“Yes, that’s it,” said Trevor. “And of course you can’t help looking upon me as the boy you were almost father and mother to at one time.”

“Of course not,” said Mrs Lloyd, stiffly; “but you don’t mean to turn us away now you have grown a man?”

“God forbid!” said Trevor, earnestly. “While I live, this is your home, and I shall interfere but little with you in the conduct of the house. But I take this opportunity of saying that I must ask of you both to remember – old friends as well as old servants of the family – that I have now come back to take my position here as the master of Penreife, and that, in speaking to me before visitors, ‘Master Dick’ sounds rather childish. That will do, Mrs Lloyd. Yes, Lloyd, you can bring in some of the claret.”

He walked into the dining-room, the quiet, calm man of the world, with enough dignity and self-assertion to show the housekeeper that the days of her rule had departed for ever.

“That’s going to sea, that is,” she muttered. “That’s being used to order people about, and being an officer. But we shall see, Master Dick – we shall see!”

And with a quick, spasmodic twitching of her hands as she smoothed down her apron, she went back muttering to her own room.