A RIDER COMES TO CASTLE RAINCY
One night the two gentlemen sat over their wine in the dining-room at
Castle Raincy, the Earl and Adam Ferris of Cairn Ferris, who had now
fallen into the habit of coming every day to the Castle either for
dinner or supper--dinner being, according to the fashion of the time, at
two and supper at eight. Generally Adam came to supper. In this case he
saw more of his daughter, and the old Lord found him right good company,
thoughtful and well-informed. Besides, what was best of all, Adam was an
excellent listener.
So, sitting toying with the stem of a wine glass, he heard for the
twentieth time the tale of the Earl's early adventure with Gentleman
Cornwallis--how they had vied with each other over neckcloths and fair
ladies, how they had fought for three hours, as the Earl said "sticking
each other here and there" without any great damage, neither able to get
home, and finally how they had their wounds dressed by the same doctor
before sitting down to ombre, each man with his bowl of gruel at his
elbow, how they bet who should drink both bickers, and how it stood on
one throw of the dice--how Cornwallis won, and he, Earl Raincy, duly
performed his obligation.
Then came how they ordered in a second supply and played who should
swallow that. The Gentleman won again, and he, Raincy, was so full of
gruel that he had to have four strong footmen to carry him home!
"By gad, sir, so I was--drunk as an owl on gruel, damned slimy
apothecaries' gruel. But I was the better of it, sir, and got well in a
week, while Cornwallis had rash and erysipelas and all manner of
trouble, because he did not do as his doctor told him! Served him right,
say I!"
And at this point, without any announcement, Julian Wemyss suddenly
stood before them. He was travel-stained and hollow of cheek. He had
manifestly ridden far and hard.
"I beg your pardon, Earl Raincy," he said, bowing courteously, "for thus
forcing my way into your presence. But it was necessary that I should at
once speak to my brother-in-law, Mr. Adam Ferris. They told me he was
here, so I came on."
The Earl welcomed him after saying that he had intended to call upon him
at the Abbey Burnfoot as soon as he knew that he was home, he added,
"You will find the wine good, Mr. Wemyss. I will now leave you to
yourselves. By the way, can I send up anything from the kitchen?--A
hungry man, you know, can do no business with a man well dined, as I
warrant you Cairn Ferris has!"
But Julian Wemyss begged Lord Raincy to stay. What he had to say
concerned him also, or at least his grandson, and all who were
interested in Miss Patricia Ferris. As to supper, he had already had
something at his own house, where his servant had been instructed to be
ready for him.
But he took a glass of wine, and, after draining it, he said, speaking
quietly and leaning a little towards the two gentlemen, "I have had the
misfortune to kill my Lord Wargrove in a duel on Calais sands."
"Gad," said the Earl, "if it had only been his master! But so far, so
good!"
"Why did you come back here?" put in Adam. "Why did you come back from
France?"
"Because in France my work was only half done," Julian spoke gravely.
"There was some one in London whom it was my duty to consult. Whatever
happened it was necessary to risk a conference with ... that person. My
Lord (here he turned abruptly upon Earl Raincy), Adam there is wholly
incapable of bringing up Patsy as she ought. She runs the country--with
the adventurous lads who play at smuggling. She comes and goes at her
will and not a soul is disquieted about her."
The faint flicker of a smile passed over the cheek of the old Earl.
"Well, Mr. Wemyss," he said, "you have known more women than ever I
spoke to--for all my frosty poll--and can you say on your conscience
that there was ever a one of them more charming, sweeter, or more
ladylike than your niece Miss Patricia?"
"That, my Lord, is not the question," said Julian, smiling also and
shaking his head. "Patsy is all you say and more. But if she had been
better trained and somewhat more under control, she would never have run
like a hare to the Wild of Blairmore, the Duke of Lyonesse would have
been spared the charge of buckshot in his haunch, and I should not have
had the death of Lord Wargrove on my hands."
"Pooh," said the old Earl, "that is what every man runs the risk of.
'Tis not the first time you have held a foil. Who were your seconds?"
"Mine? Oh, Erskine and the Prince of Thurn and Taxis. I was not
particularly keen about Erskine, but he has his relations with the court
party and would report that all was done in loyalty on both sides. The
other seconds? Why, Watford and Queensberry."
"You certainly gave him every chance," said the Earl, leaning back and
considering Julian Wemyss, "they are all of his own kidney except the
Prince--and him I do not know."
"Oh, the finest blade in Europe," cried Julian, more enthusiastically
than he had yet spoken, "and ... a Prince of the Empire."
"I see," said Earl Raincy, "between the two of you, you could have
accounted for an army of Duke's favourites!"
"Perhaps," said Julian Wemyss, "but to get back to what we were saying,
the question is what are we to do with Patsy? I do not mean to spend my
whole life in exile, and though we simply could not let Wargrove pass,
we cannot go on fighting duels for the sake of this young woman.
Besides, it is bad for Patsy."
"What do you propose, Julian?" said Adam. "I see you have come with a
plan all ready made up your sleeve. Out with it, man!"
"Well, I have. There is a great lady in London who wishes to take Patsy
and treat her as her own daughter--yes, a lady of the court, but not of
the Regency court--the Princess Elsa-Frederica of Saxe-Brunswick--"
The Earl's eyes dropped suddenly upon the decanter. He put out his hand,
and poured himself a glass. The name was that of one of the King's near
relatives, married to the aged reigning prince of Saxe-Brunswick for
reasons of State, but now returned to her family and living at Hanover
Lodge close to Kew.
The two men at the table instantly found themselves on the verge of
matters as it were within the veil. They looked uncomfortable, almost
unhappy, as men do on these occasions. Only Julian Wemyss went on with
his usual serenity.
"My friend offered to take the responsibility of Patsy off our hands.
She is a wise woman and a good woman. There lives no man who dares say
different--"
At this point both Adam Ferris and the Earl thought of the man in Vienna
who had once dared, and whom the gentle-mannered duellist before them
had sent quickly to his own place, with no more time given than to
retract his words and receive holy absolution. For in the Austria of
that time two gentlemen took a priest as well as a doctor with them to
the field of honour. Then Adam Ferris remembered his lonely house below
the dark green pines and demanded with a sudden darkening of humour,
"And how long is this going to last?"
It was on the tip of Julian's tongue to answer, "Till Patsy is married."
For indeed that had been his real thought. But he only said, "For a year
or two, brother--it is better so--she runs the hills like a wild thing.
Why, officers of his Majesty have boasted of having met and talked to
her dressed only in yellow sandals and a blue bathing dress!"
"And, pray, whose fault was that?" her father demanded.
"Not mine," said Julian calmly, "she ran to save the Glenanmays lads
from the press-gang; and if the sandals were mine, she ran better with
them than without."
"So have I heard all that," said my Lord. "But if only she were a
daughter of mine, I should not send her to London to be made as
commonplace and artificial as everything else about the Hanoverian
court."
"That, my Lord," said Julian, "is the opinion of a partial grandfather.
Pardon me for my freedom, but if that boy Louis had been your son, you
would have packed him off to dree his weird in the army. And yet he is a
wise enough lad, and has come to no great harm--nay, I know him to be
both brave and chivalrous--"
"He is a De Raincy," said his grandfather, rather haughtily.
"And as such should have a career," Julian continued without heeding the
expression on my Lord's face.
"I have heard of a man who had the highest prize of the most
distinguished of careers right in his grasp, yet one fine day dropped
everything to go out in an unstarched linen shirt with another man at
six o'clock in the morning!"
"When Louis de Raincy has my reasons for doing the like," said Julian,
looking directly at the Earl, "you can welcome him home and let him
watch the trees grow in the park. He will have given his proofs and
learned the meaning of life."
"I beg your pardon!" said Lord Raincy, "I recognize that what you say is
true. I am not sure, however, whether I can afford to let Louis go. But
perhaps you came back from France to suggest as much to me."
Julian Wemyss laughed for the first time, a clear light-running laugh
very pleasant to hear.
"I own I had it in my mind," he said, "all this night-hawking and saving
of entrapped damsels is apt to make a boy romantic. Well, no harm for a
while, I say. But if you follow my thought and excuse it--'tis not
enough to set up house upon. I have no doubt that your grandson thinks
himself over head and ears in love with my niece. What Patsy thinks I do
not know--probably that young men were created for that purpose and that
one is very like another."
"At his age I should certainly have been most deucedly in love with the
lady," said the Earl.
"Just so," quoth Julian. "Now I do not know what plans you have for the
future of the lad. I do not know Adam's mind. But even if your ideas
happened to agree, which is unlikely--it would be a thousand times
better for the young people to see something of life first. Let them
have three years apart, meeting other people, getting little electric
shocks which will surprise them amazingly, and then if you and Adam
agree and the young people continue of a stable mind--why, there will be
so much the less danger of their House of Life coming about their ears
afterwards!"
* * * * *
The morning after the three Wise Men had sat in council together in the
castle dining-room, Patsy Ferris and Louis Raincy climbed over opposite
high walls and dropped almost simultaneously, and as naturally as ripe
fruit falls, into the old orchard of Raincy. In the midst of the walled
enclosure stood the marble mausoleum of the family, a heavily domed
structure, drowned among high trees, through the narrow windows of which
tombs and statues could be seen, and more than one De Raincy in his
chain mail with his head on a marble pillow, his hands with the
finger-tips joined, and a favourite dog at his feet.
The keys of the enclosure were in the Earl's own coffer, and the trees
being too old for valuable fruit, the gardeners never went there, except
once a year after the falling of the leaves, "to tidy up a bit, because
one never knows what may happen," as old Steven the head gardener said.
Even then the Earl came, and, sitting on a chair, surveyed their labours
jealously, before locking up after them and going in to put away the key
in its place for another year.
Patsy and Louis did not greet each other, though they had not met that
morning. In the house one said, "Good morning," "I hope you passed a
good night," and silly things like that, but not in the green shade of
the old orchard. A weeping willow had been turned over in some winter
gale many years ago, but had nevertheless managed to go on growing in
its new position. It lay like a feathery plume along the side of the
Raincy mausoleum. It was not the first time that Louis and Patsy had
utilized it as a convenient seat.
The red squirrel who lived in one of the high pines dropped the husks of
the larch tassels on which he was fond of browsing, upon their heads.
But he did not chatter at them any more. He recognized a not remote
kinship with people who had sense enough to come here to be out of the
way, and he said as much to his own mate who was lying lazily curled in
a big nest high up the bole of the pine which overtopped the white
marble roof of the little chapel and looked clear away to sea and back
to the towers of Castle Raincy.
"Patsy," said Louis, "they are going to separate us--I am sure of it.
That was why your Uncle Julian came all the way from London."
"Well, let them," said Patsy, swinging her feet and poking at the grass
with a branch she had stripped of willow leaves; "I suppose that even if
you are at the castle and I at Cairn Ferris we can always come here or
meet at the alder grove--why, there are a thousand places."
"Ah, but," said Louis, "I am to go into the army--and you are to go to
London, to be taken care of by some great lady whom your Uncle knows!"
Patsy clapped her hands with sudden pleasure.
"Oh, that must be the Princess--Uncle Ju's princess--then I shall know
her. It will be such fun!"
"No doubt--for you," said Louis, bitterly, "but since you are so glad to
be away from me and with other people, you will the more easily forget
all about me."
"Nonsense," said Patsy, "our people won't lock us in dungeons and feed
us on bread and water. They don't do it now-a-days. And so will you like
to go soldiering. Why, haven't you been moaning to me every day for
years because your grandfather would not let you go to be an officer and
see the world and fight? You owned that it was fun stopping the carriage
and getting me out and riding home--"
"Oh, yes," said Louis, "I do not deny it a bit. I own I said so, but
even there it was Stair Garland who had most to do with the real
business."
"Well, you must own that he played the game pretty straight."
"Umph," growled Louis, "of course. So would any one!"
"Now, Louis," said Patsy, "don't be a hog. You know you have often said
that Stair Garland was as good a gentleman as anybody. Of course, he is
fond of me--"
"Has he told you?" cried Louis, starting up and glowering with clenched
fists.
"What is that to you, sir?" Patsy retorted, biting her upper lip, while
her black eyes shrank to glittering dots under the long lashes through
which she considered the speaker. "Attend to your own business, Louis
Raincy. It is no business of yours what Stair Garland has said to me, or
what he may say!"
"But it is--it is!" cried Louis, shamelessly, stamping his foot.
Patsy swept her skirts aside and motioned with her hand.
"Sit down, little boy!" she said, "you are not built to sing on that
key. I can. Your grandfather could, or Uncle Julian--"
"He has killed a man in a duel--another man, I mean--I heard them
telling about it to-day in the stables...."
Patsy grew pale.
"Not the Prince!... He will be outlawed. Perhaps they will send him to
prison or cut off his head."
"No, no," Louis broke in; "not the Prince, though that is a pity too. I
should liked have a whack at him--"
"Well, never mind--Stair Garland had one, and they say that he will
hardly ever walk straight again. But whom has Uncle Ju killed? I knew if
he heard of it he would kill somebody. He did once before."
"Lord Wargrove. They fought on the beach at Calais. He came straight
over to London to arrange about your going to his Princess, whoever she
may be, and he arrived here at the castle while your father and my
grandfather were sitting together after dinner spinning stories. He was
for your going to London directly. He spoke to grandfather about me,
too. Mother says he is a bloodthirsty wretch and no right Christian. But
grandfather must have thought a lot of him or he would never have
listened to a word about my going for a soldier. Now he has written to
the Duke to get me a company, and there will be a lot of money to pay,
also, which grandad won't like. I am to go to the _dépôt_ immediately to
learn the drill and so on. It is a blessing I can ride."
"I don't believe you will be sent to the war at all," said Patsy, "at
least not for a while. So don't get cock-a-hoop. You will have a lot to
learn, and you can persuade your grandfather, if you really want to see
me, to open up his house in London, and then you can come and see me as
often as you like."
"What, with a glorified Princess looking after you? I do not see myself,
somehow!"
"Oh, you will learn," Patsy retorted carelessly. "Of course we have all
got to do that. I don't want very much to leave all this. How should I?
It is my country and my life, but I suppose they know best, and at any
rate if they keep me too long, I can always run away. You could not do
that, of course, when you are a soldier, for that would be desertion,
and they would shoot you as they did Admiral Byng."
The bad business of their exodus from the Glens began to wear a brighter
aspect for Louis Raincy. London with Patsy partook of the unknown and
certainly adventurous. Every young fellow of spirit longs for money in
his pocket to see the world, and at the worst Patsy would be well away
from the neighbourhood of Stair Garland.
Then the next moment Louis was ashamed of his thought and strove to make
amends.
"I wonder what will become of Stair if you go," he said. "I am afraid he
will go the pace wilder than ever, and as like as not get into bad
trouble."
"Before I go I shall speak to Stair myself," said Patsy with great
determination. "He shot a prince of the blood for my sake; perhaps I can
make him keep the peace for the same reason. At least for a while."
At this Louis sulked a little, so little indeed that no one but Patsy
could have noticed. But she was down upon him like a hawk on a field
mouse.
"See here," said Patsy, "this is no stock-in-trade to start out on. You
sulk at the first mention of a man's name. I shall see hundreds in
London. You will see as many women. I am only a little country girl
staying with a great Princess, while you will be the heir to an earldom,
besides having all the prestige of the uniform. Oh, I shall like that
part of it myself, I don't deny. But I am not going to have you sulking
because I speak to this man or dance with that man, or even tell you
that I like one man better than another."
She paused, but Louis did not speak. So Patsy, after a long look at him,
continued. "I don't know yet whether I love you as you mean, Louis
Raincy--or whether I shall ever love any man. Certainly I am not going
to cry about you or about anybody. I like you--yes--I like you better
than any one I know except Uncle Julian, but not a bit like the lovers
in books. So I suppose I am not in love. I would not have you climbing
balconies or singing ditties in boats for half this country. I should
want to be in bed and asleep. Some day, maybe, I shall love a man, and
then I shall love him for take and have and keep. But it has just got to
happen, Louis--and if it comes for somebody else, why, I rather think it
will be so much the better for you. Come now, it is time to go home.
Shake hands, and be friends--no, sir, nothing else. Wait a good quarter
of an hour after I am gone. We don't know what is before either of us,
but if you are going to whimper about what we can't help--I am not!"
She jumped on the first branches of the larch, still holding Louis's
hand. As she let go she took a handful of his clustering curls and gave
a cheerful tug to his head that brought the tears sharply to his eyes.
"Go off and try to fall in love with a dozen of the prettiest girls you
can find in London, and if you don't succeed in three years, come back
here and we will talk the matter all over again from the beginning."
She was now on the top of the wall. She turned her legs over deftly to
the other side with a swirl of her skirts.
"Good-bye, Louis!" she said, waving a brown hand at him as she slid off
into the wood. "Some day you will be more of a man than I, and then you
will not let a girl put you down."
"Do you know what I think?" cried the boy, exasperated. "I think that
you are a hard-hearted little wretch!"
But only the sound of Patsy's laughter rippled up mockingly from far
down the glade.