Considering the chain of shocks and disappointments which Mrs Jane had
suffered, Jenny was astonished to see how extremely bright and mirthful
she was, and still more surprised to perceive that this
light-heartedness appeared to infect the Colonel. It was not, however,
shared by Mrs Lane.
"Well, Jane, child," she said one morning to her daughter, "I am truly
glad to see thee so light of heart, in especial after all the troubles
and discomfitures thou hast gone through. 'Tis a blessing to have a
hopeful nature."
"Oh, I never trouble over past clouds when the sun shines again, madam,"
said Mrs Jane cheerily.
"I marvel what we can make of your man, when he cometh back," resumed
Mrs Lane. "If you go not now again into Somerset, you will have no
work for him to do."
"Maybe, Madam, he shall not return hither," answered her daughter.
"My cousin, Colonel Wyndham, had some notion he could find him a good
place down yonder, and I thought you would judge it best to leave the
matter to his discretion."
"Oh, very good," assented Mrs Lane. "So much the better. I would not
have the young man feel himself ill-used, when my Lord Wilmot spake so
well of him."
"There is no fear of that, I hope," replied Mrs Jane.
"O Mrs Jane! I am so thankful to hear that creature may not come back,
after all!" cried Millicent.
"Ay, Millicent, you may sleep at ease in your bed," said Mrs Jane,
looking amused. "But I marvel why you feared him thus. I found him a
right decent fellow, I can assure you."
"Then I can assure you solemnly, madam," answered Millicent, with a look
to match her words, "that is more than I did. Never can I forget the
horrid moment when I thought that nasty black creature went about to
take me by the hand. It made me feel creepy all over--faugh! I cannot
find words to tell you!"
"Pray don't trouble yourself," calmly responded Mrs Jane. "I am going
upstairs, so you need not give yourself the labour to look for them."
Before many weeks were over, Colonel Lane came one evening into the
drawing-room, to report a wonderful piece of good news.
"His Majesty hath escaped the realm!" cried he, "and is now clean over
sea to France."
"God be praised!" exclaimed his mother. "This is indeed good news."
Farmer Lavender was almost as excited as his landlord, and declared that
he would light a bonfire in the farm-yard, if he could be sure the
stacks wouldn't get alight.
"Nay, Joe, I wouldn't," said his prudent mother. "Thou can be as glad
as thou wilt, and the Parliament 'll say nought to thee; but bonfires is
bonfires, lad."
Will Jackson did not come back to Bentley, and Mrs Jane remarked in a
satisfied tone that she supposed Colonel Wyndham had found a place to
suit him.
Millicent contemptuously observed to Jenny that she wondered how Colonel
Wyndham, who was a gentleman born, could take any trouble about that
creature Jackson.
"Well, and I do too, a bit," said Jenny, "for I'm sure the Colonel did
not seem over pleased when Will would have taken him by the hand as we
was a-coming up to the house."
"No, you don't say!" ejaculated Millicent. "Did he really, now?--to the
Colonel? Well, I'm sure, the world's getting turned upside down."
Millicent was considerably more of that opinion when a few months were
over. Early one spring morning, before anyone was up, some slight but
singular noises roused Mrs Jane from sleep, and calling Jenny, she
desired her to look out of the window and see what was the matter.
Jenny's shriek, when she did so, brought her young mistress to the
casement in a moment. Bentley Hall was surrounded by armed men--
Parliamentary soldiers, standing still and stern--awaiting in complete
silence the orders of their commander.
Mrs Jane went very white, but her self-command did not desert her.
"Never mind screaming, Jenny," she said coolly. "That will do no good.
They'll not take you, child; and these Roundheads, whatever else they
are, are decent men that harm not women and children. I must say so
much for them. Come quick, and dress me, and I will go down to them."
"Oh dear!" cried Jenny. "Madam, they'll kill you!"
"Not they!" said the young lady. "I'm not afraid,--not of a man, at any
rate. I don't say I should have no fear of a ghost. Jenny, hast thou
lost thy head? Here be two shoes--not a pair--thou hast given me; and
what art thou holding out the pomade for? I don't wash in pomade."
Jenny, who was far more flurried and frightened than her mistress,
confusedly apologised as she exchanged the pomade for the soap.
"But--Oh dear! madam, will they take you?" she asked.
"Maybe not, child," said Mrs Jane, quite coolly. "Very like not. I
guess 'tis rather my brother they want. We shall see all the sooner,
Jenny, if thou makest no more blunders."
Jenny, however, contrived to make several more, for she was almost too
excited and terrified to know what she was doing. She put on Mrs
Jane's skirt wrong side out, offered her the left sleeve of her kirtle
for the right arm, and generally behaved like a girl who was frightened
out of her wits.
Mrs Jane, dressed at last, softly opened her door, and desired Jenny to
follow.
"I will wake none else till I know what the matter is," she said.
"Come after me, and I will speak with the Captain of these men from the
little window in the hall."
Jenny obeyed, feeling as if she were more dead than alive.
Mrs Jane quietly unfastened the little window, and said to a soldier
who had taken up his position close beside it--"I would speak with your
Captain."
The Captain appeared in a moment.
"For what reason are you here?" asked the young lady.
"Madam, I hold a warrant to take the bodies of Thomas Lane, and John
Lane his son, and I trust that none in this house shall impede me in the
execution of my duty."
"My brother!--and my father!" exclaimed Mrs Jane, under her breath.
"Sir, we shall not do that. But will you suffer me to say to you that
my father is an old and infirm man, in weakly health, and I beg of you
that you will be as merciful to his condition as your duty will allow."
The Roundhead captain bowed.
"Be assured, madam," he said respectfully, "that Mr Lane shall fare
better for the beseechment of so good a daughter, and that I will do
mine utmost to have him gently handled."
"I thank you, sir," replied Mrs Jane, as she closed the window.
Then, Jenny still following, a little less frightened, since the enemy
seemed after all to be a man, and not a very bad man either.
Mrs Jane went upstairs and tapped at her brother's door.
"Who's there?" demanded the Colonel's voice very sleepily.
"The reward of your deeds," answered his sister, drily. "Make haste and
busk thee, Jack; thou art wanted to go to prison."
"Very good!" responded the Colonel, to Jenny's astonishment. "Do you
bear me company?"
"Nay; would I did, rather than our father."
"Our father! Is _he_--?"
"Ay. God have mercy on us!" said Mrs Jane gravely.
"Amen!" came through the closed door.
"Jenny, go back to my chamber," said her mistress. "I will come to thee
anon. The hardest of my work lieth afore me yet."
For two hours all was haste and tumult in Bentley Hall. Then, when the
soldiers had departed, carrying their prisoners with them, a hush almost
like that of death fell upon the house.
Mrs Lane had wept till she had no more tears to shed; her daughter did
not weep, but she looked very white and sad.
"Now you mark my words!" said Millicent to Jenny; "'tis that Jackson has
done it. He's played the traitor. Didn't I always say he was a
Roundhead! Depend upon it, he's betrayed something the Colonel's done
in His Majesty's service, and that's why that wicked Parliament's down
on him. Robin, he says the same. He never did like that scheming black
creature, and no more did I."
"Well, I don't know! He seemed a decent sort o' man, far as I could
see, only that he wasn't well-favoured," said Jenny doubtfully.
"He was a snake in the grass!" said Millicent solemnly; "and you'll find
that out, Jenny Lavender."
To the surprise of the whole family, and themselves most of all, the
prisoners were released after only four months' detention. That was
considered an exceedingly short business in 1652. Neither father nor
son seemed any worse for their trial; the Roundheads, they said, had not
treated them ill, and had even allowed sundry extra comforts to old Mr
Lane.
So matters dropped back into their old train at Bentley Hall for about a
month longer. Then, one August morning, Colonel Lane, who had ridden to
Kidderminster, entered the parlour with an open letter in his hand. His
face was grave almost to sternness, and when his sister saw it, an
expression of alarm came into her eyes.
"A letter, Jane, from Penelope Wyndham," he said, giving her the letter.
"Mrs Millicent and Mrs Jenny, I pray you give us leave."
That was a civil way of saying, "Please to leave the room," and of
course it was at once obeyed. Evidently something of consequence was to
be discussed.
"I do hope Mrs Jane will not go away again," said Millicent.
"Well, I don't know; I shouldn't be sorry if she did," answered Jenny.
"Very like not; you think you'd go withal. But I can tell you it is
vastly dull for us left behind. There's a bit of life when she is
here."
Jenny went up to Mrs Jane's room, where she occupied herself by tacking
clean white ruffles into some of her mistress's gowns. She had not
progressed far when that young lady came up, with a very disturbed face.
"Let those be," she said, seeing how Jenny was employed. "Jenny, child,
I am grieved to tell thee, but thou must needs return to thine own
home."
"Send me away!" gasped Jenny. "Oh, Mrs Jane, madam, what have I done!"
"Nothing, child, nothing; 'tis not that. I am going away myself."
"And mustn't I go with you?" asked Jenny, in a very disappointed tone.
"To France? We are going to France, child."
Jenny felt in a whirl of astonishment. Going abroad in those days was
looked on as a very serious matter, not to be undertaken except for some
important reason, and requiring a great deal of deliberation. And here
was Mrs Jane, after scarcely half-an-hour's reflection, announcing that
she was going to start at once for France.
Mrs Jane put her hand in her pocket.
"Here be thy wages, Jenny," she said. "Twelve pound by the year we
agreed on, and thou hast been with me scarce a year; howbeit, twelve
pound let it be. And for the ill-conveniency I put thee to, to send
thee away thus suddenly, thou shalt have another pound, and my flowered
tabby gown. Thou wilt soon win another place if thou list to tarry in
service, and my mother hath promised to commend thee heartily to any
gentlewoman that would have thee.
"So cheer up, child; there is no need for thee to fret."
Jenny felt as if she had considerable need to fret. Here were all her
distinctions flying away from her at a minute's notice. Instead of
being Mrs Jenny, and sitting in the drawing-room at Bentley Hall, she
would once more be plain Jenny Lavender in the farmhouse kitchen. It
was true her freedom would return to her; but by this time she had
become accustomed to the restraint, and did not mind it nearly so much.
The tears overflowed and ran down.
"Come, come, child!" said Mrs Jane, giving her a gentle pat on the
shoulder; "take not on thus, prithee. Thy life is yet before thee.
Cheer up and play the woman! Ah, Jenny, maid, 'tis well for thee thou
art not so high up as some I could name, and therefore shalt fall the
lighter. Now go, and pack up thy mails, and Robin shall take thee and
them to the farm this evening."
"Must I go to-day, madam?" exclaimed Jenny, more dismayed than ever.
"I go myself to-day, Jenny," said Mrs Jane, gently but gravely. "The
matter will brook no delay. Take thine heart to thee, and do as I bid
thee: thou wert best be out of it all."
Poor Jenny went slowly up to the garret to fetch her bags, which had
been stowed there out of the way.
As she came down with them in her hands, she met Millicent.
"You've had warning, have you?" said Millicent, in a whisper. "There's
somewhat wrong, you take my word for it! You make haste and get away,
and thank your stars you've a good home to go to. We're all to go,
every soul save two--old Master's Diggory and me."
"What, Mr Featherstone too?" exclaimed Jenny.
"Oh, he's going with the Colonel to France. But Master and Madam, they
set forth to-morrow, and Diggory and I go with them. Mark my words,
there's somewhat wrong! and if it goes much further, I shall just give
my warning and be off. I've no notion of getting into trouble for other
folks."
"But whatever is it all about?" said Jenny.
"Well, if you want my thoughts on it," whispered Millicent, in an
important tone, "I believe it's all 'long of that Jackson. You thought
he was a decent sort of fellow, you know. But you've to learn yet,
Jenny Lavender, as all isn't gold as glitters."
"I think I'm finding that out, Mrs Millicent," sighed Jenny; "didn't I
think I was made for life no further back than yesterday? However,
there's no time to waste."
She packed up her things, and made a hurried dinner; took leave of all
in the house, not without tears; and then, mounting Bay Winchester
behind Robin Featherstone, rode home in the cool of the evening.
"Farewell, sweetheart!" said Featherstone, gallantly kissing Jenny's
fingers. "I go to France, but I leave my heart in Staffordshire. Pray
you, sweet Mrs Jenny, what shall I bring you for a fairing from the gay
city of Paris? How soon we shall return the deer knows; but you will
wait for your faithful Robin?" And Mr Featherstone laid his hand
elegantly on his heart.
"Oh, you'll forget all about me when you are over there taking your
pleasure," said Jenny, in a melancholy tone.
Mr Featherstone was only half through a fervent asseveration to the
effect that such a catastrophe was a complete impossibility, when Farmer
Lavender came out.
"What, Jenny I come to look at us?" said he. "Thou'rt as welcome, my
lass, as flowers in May. But how's this--bags and all? Thou'st never
been turned away, child?"
"Not for nought ill, father," said Jenny, almost crying with conflicting
feelings; "but Mrs Jane, she's going to France, and all's that upset--"
and Jenny sobbed too much to proceed.
Mr Featherstone came to the rescue, and explained matters.
"Humph!" said the farmer; "that's it, is it? World's upset, pretty
nigh, seems to me. Well, folks can't always help themselves--that's
true enough. Howbeit, thou'rt welcome home, Jenny! there's always a
place for thee here, if there's none anywhere else. You'll come in and
take a snack, Mr Featherstone?"
Mr Featherstone declined with effusive thanks. He had not a moment to
spare. He remounted Winchester, shook hands with the farmer, kissed his
hand to Jenny, and rode away. And the question whether Jenny would wait
for his return was left unanswered.
"I'm glad to see thee back, my lass," said old Mrs Lavender. "Home's
the best place for young lasses. Maybe, too, thou'lt be safer at the
farm than at the Hall. The times be troublous; and if more mischief's
like to overtake the Colonel, though I shall be sorry enough to see it,
I shan't be sorry to know thou art out of it. Art thou glad to come
back or not, my lass?"
"I don't know, Granny," said Jenny.
Kate laughed. "Have you had your fling and come down, Jenny?" she
asked; "or haven't you had fling enough?--which is it?"
"I think it's a bit of both," said Jenny. "It's grand to be at the
Hall, and ride in the coach, and sit in the pew at church, and that; but
I used to get dreadful tired by times, it seemed so dull. There's a
deal more fun here, and I'm freer like. But--"
Jenny left her "but" unfinished.
"Ay, there's a many buts, I shouldn't wonder," said Kate, laughing.
"Well, Jenny, you've seen somewhat of high life, and you've got it to
talk about."
Jenny felt very sad when she went to church on the following Sunday.
The Hall pew was empty, and Jenny herself was once more a mere nobody in
the corner of her father's seat. There was no coach to ride in; and
very humiliated she felt when Dorothy Campion gave her a smart blow on
the back as she went down the churchyard.
"Well, _Mrs_. Jenny! so you've come down from your pedestal? Going to
be very grand, weren't you?--couldn't see your old acquaintances last
Sunday! But hey, presto, all is changed, and my fine young madam come
down to a farmhouse lass.
"How was it, Jenny? Did Mrs Jane catch you at the mirror, trying on
her sky-coloured gown? or had her necklace slipped into your pocket by
accident? Come, tell us all about it."
"She gave me a gown, then," said Jenny, with spirit; "and that's more, I
guess, than she ever did to you, Dolly Campion. And as for why I'm come
home, it's neither here nor there. Mrs Jane's a-going to France, to be
one of the Queen's ladies, maybe, and that's why; so you can take your
change out o' that."
Miss Campion immediately proceeded to take her change out of it.
"Dear heart, Jenny, and why ever didn't you go and be one of the Queen's
ladies, too?"
"Oh, she's climbed up so high, queens isn't good enough company for
her," suggested Abigail Walker, coming to Dolly's help.
"Now, you two go your ways like tidy maids," said the voice of Tom
Fenton behind them; "and don't make such a to-do of a Sabbath morning.
"Jenny, I'll see you home if you give me leave."
He spoke with a quiet dignity, which was not like the old Tom Fenton
whom Jenny had known; and his manner was more that of a friend helping
her to get rid of an annoyance, than that of a suitor who grasped at an
opportunity of pleading his cause.
"I thank you, Tom, and I'll be glad of it," said the humbled and
harassed Jenny.
So they went back together, Tom showing no sign that he heard Dorothy's
derisive cry of--
"Room for Her Majesty's Grace's Highness and her servant the carpenter!"
The word lover, at that day, meant simply a person who loved you; where
we say "lover," they said "servant."
At the farmhouse door Tom took his leave.
"No, I thank you, Jenny," he said, when she asked him to come in; "I'm
going on to Uncle Anthony's to dinner. Good morning."
And Jenny felt that some mysterious change in Tom had put a distance
between him and her.