EGREMONT PRIORY.
Lady Mitford's proposition of a visit to Egremont Priory, though
originally made in a kind of bravado, was remembered by most of her
guests--notably by Mrs. Hammond, who saw in it a better chance of
flirtation than she had had since her arrival at Redmoor. Ever since
Georgie had noticed the warm lingering hand-pressure exchanged between
her husband and her visitor on that occasion, she had been thoroughly
on the _qui vive_, and, like most young women ignorant of the world's
ways, had imagined that the best way to nip a flirtation in the bud
was by being perpetually observant of all that took place, and by
letting the guilty persons know that their conduct was watched. It
requires considerable experience before a woman discovers that--so
long as the affair is confined within certain bounds--totally to
ignore its existence is her very best policy; a policy which saves her
from infinite domestic discomfort, and is besides the only possible
method of galling her rival.
But Georgie was not only young, but country-bred,--which means a great
deal, for London girls at seventeen know more of the world than
country girls at five-and-twenty,--and had had scarcely any
experience. So she went to work naturally, and betrayed her anger in
the plainest manner,--in perpetual supervision, in lip-bitings and
hand-clenchings, in occasional tears, which _would_ come welling up
into her eyes, however far back she might hold her head, and were
perfectly visible, however hastily brushed away. To Mrs. Hammond, who
was a practised duelist, all this behaviour was delightful; she took
it as a tribute to her own powers of fascination, and was
proportionately pleased. Flirtation, in its strongest sense, was
absolutely necessary to her existence; but she never condescended to
boys, and she regarded officers, when merely officers and nothing
more, as very small game. She liked to entangle men of position and
celebrity, no matter how grave or how old (she had perfectly charmed a
bachelor bishop; and the enemies of one of our greatest physicians
declared that his wife rendered his home unbearable on account of his
attentions to Mrs. Hammond); and the latest literary, artistic, or
theatrical lion was usually to be found hovering about her. But far
beyond anything else she liked a flirtation with the husband of an
acknowledged pretty woman; and the more beautiful the wife, the more
bent was Laura Hammond on captivating the husband That gave her
greater _éclat_ than anything else, and she liked _éclat_. She liked
being talked about,--up to a certain point; she liked women to express
their wonder at what men could see in her to rave about; she liked to
have repeated to her what men said at clubs: "'Str'ord'nary little
woman the Hammond! There's Cosmo Gordon been everywhere with her,
leaving that lovely wife of his all by herself, by Jove! What the
doose can there be in her?" and other speeches of a like nature. She
also liked to be on good terms with the wives of her admirers--a thing
by no means so difficult as might be imagined by the inexperienced.
There are women so spaniel-like in their nature that they will fawn on
those who injure them; and some of these consorted with Mrs. Hammond
with a vain idea of propitiating her by their forbearance, and thus
inducing her to give up the chase. She had at first thought that
Georgie Mitford might be of this order; but she was by no means
disappointed to find her otherwise. She gloried in a contest out of
which she could come victorious, and despised all easy triumphs; there
was pleasure in captivating a man whose position or celebrity
reflected lustre on his enslaver; but there was tenfold pleasure when
he, in his blind infatuation, set the rules of society at defiance,
and openly neglected the wife whose beauty had hitherto been his
greatest pride.
So Mrs. Hammond reminded Sir Charles that dear Lady Mitford had
expressed a wish that they should go over in a party to Egremont
Priory, and suggested that he had better see about it at once. Of
course Sir Charles saw about it immediately; told Bligh to have some
luncheon sent over the next day, and to mind that they had a big fire
in the keep, for it was anything but picnic weather; wrote a line to
Major Maxse and other officers to join them; and proceeded to poll his
visitors as to how they would go over to the spot. How would Mrs.
Hammond go? How? Oh, wouldn't dear Lady Mitford ride over with her on
horseback? they could get some gentlemen to escort them; and it would
be delightful. Dear Lady Mitford was much obliged, but would rather
not. Mrs. Hammond could ride over on horseback if she chose, and
doubtless would find plenty of cavaliers; but Lady Mitford would drive
in a pony-phaeton. Ah, of course! Mrs. Hammond had forgotten Lady
Mitford's charming experience of pony-phaetons; and as she said this
she looked round with a light and pleasant smile at Colonel Alsager,
who was pulling his black beard, and glowering horribly close by. Sir
Charles Mitford had no objection to Georgie's going in a phaeton--no
objection to her driving, for the matter of that; but since that
accident, it would be better, he thought, to have some one reliable in
coachmanship sitting by her: Lord Dollamore, for instance? But
Dollamore declared he was the worst whip in the world; his horrible
rheumatism had crippled his hands; and why should not that tremendous
fellow Alsager, who had already earned the medal of the Humane
Society--why should not he go? Ay, Alsager was the very man, Sir
Charles thought; and Laurence, though he saw every atom of the play on
Dollamore's part, and felt himself completely jockeyed into the
position, could discern no way out of it, and assented with apparent
delight. He was not too pleased to see a certain look of terror which
had pervaded Lady Mitford's face when Dollamore was proposed as
charioteer fade away when the other arrangement was finally decided
upon. Many men would have taken the change as a compliment; but
Laurence had had experience, and thought otherwise. Lord Dollamore,
Tom and Mrs. Charteris, one of the Tyrrell girls, and Captain Bligh,
might post over in the break; in which also went the luncheon-hampers.
Fred Aspen, Ellen Tyrrell, and Major Winton, would ride. So the
stud-groom had his orders, and all was arranged. Sir Charles had not
said how he intended to go to Egremont Priory, and yet no one was
surprised, when the cavalcade was on the point of setting out, to see
his big horse Tambour Major brought out by the stud-groom, who was
closely followed by a helper leading Lady Jane--a very dark iron-gray
mare--with a lady's saddle on her. No one doubted for an instant for
whom the lady's horse was intended. A bright red spot burned on Lady
Mitford's cheek; and as she settled herself in the phaeton by
Laurence's side, she said in a loud and marked tone, "I hope, Colonel
Alsager, I shall not have occasion to-day to increase the debt of
gratitude I already owe to you."
Mrs. Masters raised her eyebrows as Lord Dollamore assisted her into
the break, and afterwards had two minutes' confidential whispering
with Miss Tyrrell; and Mrs. Charteris had scarcely time to frown down
old Tom, who was always full of his _gaucheries_, before he had
ejaculated, "Making the running early, eh? ah, haw, haw!"
Sir Charles Mitford saw nothing of this little performance; but Mrs.
Hammond, whose eyes and ears were everywhere at once, lost not one
single scrap of it. So, just before the word for starting was given,
while Mrs. Masters was doing her whispering, and Lady Mitford was
burning with anger, and Captain Bligh was peering into the various
hampers to see that nothing had been forgotten; while Sir Charles
himself, intoxicated with her wonderful piquancy (she never looked to
such advantage as in her riding-habit), was coming across to mount
her, she turned calmly round, and said in a voice which could be heard
by all round, "No,--thanks, Sir Charles--I won't trespass on your
attention. As host you have all sorts of things to look after and to
do.--Major Winton, if that chestnut will stand for half a
minute--here, boy, look to his head!--I'll get you to mount me, and if
you'll permit me I'll join your party. I'm the best of chaperons,
Major; and when it's required, my talent for admiring the landscape is
enormous."
This last was uttered _sotto voce_, and with a quick side-glance
towards Ellen Tyrrell. It was a clever move; and though by no means
convincing, had some effect on all the party. Sir Charles bowed,
sprang on Tambour Major, and rode away with disgust plainly visible in
every feature; Lady Mitford looked disconcerted; so did Alsager,
though he understood it all; Dollamore took his familiar stick in
consultation, and whispered to it that she was a devilish clever
little woman; Tom Charteris winked quietly at his wife; and Major
Winton was delighted. He told some friends afterwards, in the freedom
of barrack-room conversation, that he didn't go in for women's society
and that sort of thing, you know, and he'd no idea he was so d--d
nice.
So they went on. The party in the break was very humorous; they kept
up a running fire of jokes against Bligh about something being
forgotten, and compelled him (naturally a nervous man, and very proud
of his arrangement of such matters) to dive frequently to the bottom
of hampers and return with the supposed missing article in his hand,
his face purple with stooping and triumph combined. Captain Bligh was
not a humorist, but he retorted with several broad allusions to Tom
Charteris's distillery; and, a flash of old sporting experience having
suddenly revealed to him that there was an affinity of meaning between
the words 'gin' and 'snare,' he dilated thereon after a fashion that
Mr. George Cruikshank might have envied. They were very quiet in the
pony-phaeton, for Georgie was annoyed at having so plainly shown her
anger; and Laurence, finding that his few remarks about the weather
and the scenery only gained monosyllabic answers, soon lapsed into
silence. Sir Charles was seen going across country at a great pace,
apparently comforting himself by taking it out of Tambour Major, and
clearing everything in first-rate style. The mounted party seemed to
enjoy themselves most of all; Major Winton was in the seventh heaven,
for Mrs. Hammond did all the talking, requiring him only to throw in
an occasional word, and she looked so fascinating that he devoted
himself to her during the ride, entirely neglecting Ellen Tyrrell--to
that young lady's great gratification, be it said, as she regarded the
Major as a fogie, and was infinitely better pleased with the
attentions of one of the officers who joined the cavalcade just as it
emerged on the Redmoor.
The winter picnic passed off much more pleasantly than might have been
augured from its commencement. During the drive Georgie had had time
deliberately to examine herself, and to arrive at the conclusion that
what she was doing was very foolish, and more than that, she was
afraid, very wrong. It might be that her own jealousy had jaundiced
her ideas; it might be that the pressure of the hand from which her
misgiving first dated, was entirely imaginary. What right had she to
suspect Charley of fickleness? Had he not proved his truth in the
noblest way, by coming back to her in the time of his prosperity and
raising her to her present position? Was it likely, then, that he
would so suddenly change? Yes, she had been very wrong to permit the
growth of such horrible suspicions, and she would make up for it to
Charley by tenfold warmth and affection. Georgie's already-suffused
face deepened in hue as she remembered what, in the bitterness of her
spirit, she had said to Colonel Alsager on taking her seat in the
phaeton. What could he have thought of her? Whatever he may have
thought, nothing could be gathered from the calm grave expression of
his face. Very likely he guessed what was passing through his
companion's mind; for from the little he had seen of Georgie, he
believed her to possess more commonsense than is given to the average
woman, and he was certain she could show it in no better way than by
totally ignoring this business, at all events in its present stage.
Laurence saw plainly enough Mrs. Hammond's intentions. There was not a
point in her system of strategy which he did not comprehend; and he
also saw that Mitford was morally weak, and obviously flattered by her
attentions. In the present stage of affairs, however, for Lady Mitford
to show herself annoyed was the very worst policy she could adopt; and
while she kept silence Laurence guessed she was arguing the question
within herself, and earnestly hoped she would come to the right
decision. He knew she had done so when, just as they were nearing
their destination, she looked up with a bright smile and said, "I have
been a very dull companion, I am afraid, Colonel Alsager! but the
truth is I was full of thought."
"A bad thing to bring out to a picnic, Lady Mitford. I should advise
you to discard it as speedily as possible."
"I fully intend to do so, and hope every one else will follow your
advice. By the way, I may say, 'Physician, heal thyself;' for you've
been most sedate ever since we started."
"I was wondering," laughed Laurence, "among other things, what the
groom seated behind us could think of us. He's young, I see, and may
possibly therefore imagine that silence is a sign of good breeding."
"In that case, in his opinion we must be perfect aristocrats, for
we've not exchanged a word. Ah, here comes the cavalcade; how well
Mrs. Hammond looks!--doesn't she? and how perfectly she sits her
horse!"
"Yes, she rides admirably, and--ah, I thought so; she has just
discovered we were looking at her, or she would not have done that."
"That" was to put her horse at a bit of bank and hedge bordering the
grass-meadow, on which she and her party were cantering. She cleared
it admirably, and drew rein close by the phaeton. As her horse jumped,
Mrs. Hammond caught Laurence's eye, and her own lighted up with a
saucy triumph; the exercise had done her good, and she was in great
spirits.
"Well, dear Lady Mitford, I hope you've enjoyed your drive; no
accident this time, I see. But Colonel Alsager is a good whip.--I've
heard your praises sung often by men who really understand the
subject, Colonel Alsager. They say you have the very hand for a
restive animal--light, but firm."
"They get away from me sometimes, though, Mrs. Hammond," said
Laurence, looking up.
"Ah, that happens with every one," she replied; "but you always
conquer at last, don't you?"
"Always; and when I get them in hand again, I make them remember their
freaks, and pay for them."
"You're quite right," said she carelessly. "Ah, here is Major Winton.
I assure you, Lady Mitford, the Major is the most perfect escort; full
of talk and fun, he never suffers you to be dull for an instant. And
there's the break arrived, and that energetic Captain Bligh managing
everything as usual. What very large hampers! And I declare there's
Sir Charles arrived before any of us, and superintending the laying of
the cloth in that romantic-looking old tower."
Lady Mitford caught sight of her husband at the same time, and hurried
off to him. She was full of penitence, and wanted to set herself right
with him at once.
"Ah, and there's Lady Mitford off at the mere sound of his name. Look
at that, Colonel Alsager, and--will you have the kindness to help me
to dismount, Colonel Alsager?--No, thank you, Major, I won't trouble
you; the Colonel is already on the ground. There, Laurence Alsager,"
she whispered, as she sprang from the saddle, "that is what I pine
for,--domestic love;" and she heaved a little sigh, and tapped the
ground with the delicate little riding-boot, which the lifting of her
habit had exposed.
For an instant Laurence was taken off his guard, and said bitterly,
"When you might have had it, you spurned it;" then recovering himself,
he added, "However, we have had that out once, and--"
"And here is Major Winton," said Mrs. Hammond in her airiest manner.
"Luncheon already, eh? then you shall give me your arm, Major, for
this turf-hill is awkward to climb, especially in a habit."
Meanwhile Georgie had hurried away to where her husband was standing
watching the laying of the cloth in the one room of the keep, by the
old châtelâine and her granddaughter. Georgie made her way up to him,
and with the tears rising in her eyes, said, "Oh, Charley, I'm so glad
I have found you; I wanted to speak to you."
"Did you, little woman?" said he, looking down at her in great
astonishment; "what about? Nothing left behind, is there?"
"No; that is--at least--I don't know; it was not about that I wanted
to speak."
"What was it, then? Nothing the matter with the ponies?--not another
accident, eh?"
"No, O no; I only wanted to say that I hoped you would not be annoyed
at--at anything I did when we started from home to-day--about the way
in which the party was divided, I mean."
"Why, you silly little woman, of course not; you had nothing to do
with it. If Winton chose to make himself ridiculous, it wasn't your
fault. There, come, dry your eyes, Georgie, and let's go and look
after the people."
So, then, he had not noticed her anger or her foolish speech at all.
Georgie hardly knew whether to be pleased or vexed at the discovery.
The indefatigable Captain Bligh had now brought his arrangements to a
head, and all was ready for luncheon. A large fire burned in the great
open fireplace of the old room, lighting up the grim old walls, and
flickering through the narrow slips and embrasures, whence in old days
the archers had done good service. Lady Mitford headed the table, with
Lord Dollamore and Major Maxse, who had ridden over with some of his
brother officers, on either side. Mrs. Masters was delighted to find
herself next to Colonel Alsager; Tom Charteris was placed opposite the
largest piece of cold beef, and told to go on carving it until
somebody stopped him; Mrs. Charteris was acting as a kind of female
aide-de-camp to Captain Bligh; and if Mrs. Hammond found Major Winton,
who was on one side of her, unusually talkative, she could make no
such complaint of Sir Charles Mitford, who sat on the other side, and
was unusually silent.
The meal went off with great success. Everybody was hungry, and nearly
everybody was good-tempered; there was abundance of champagne, and the
officers and the young ladies had a great deal of laughter; and then
they set out to explore the ruins, and there was that charming story
of the murdered lady, and the spot where she appeared was pointed out
by the old housekeeper, who told the legend in a deliciously-funny
manner; and Tom Charteris hid himself behind a buttress, and at its
conclusion bounced out among them with a great roar, clanking a
dog-chain which he had picked up. All the ladies screamed, and Ellen
Tyrrell was so frightened that she nearly fainted, and had to be
supported by Frank Somers, the officer who had ridden with her from
Redmoor; and even when she recovered she was so weak as to be
compelled to walk very slowly, so that she and her companion were some
distance behind the rest of the party.
With this exception they all kept together; and Georgie had the
satisfaction of engaging her husband's arm during the greater portion
of their stay. When the time came for their return, the only change
made was, that Mrs. Masters had manoeuvred so successfully as to
induce Lady Mitford to change places with her,--Georgie returning in
the break, and Laurence driving the widow in the phaeton. But this
time the equestrians all started together. Sir Charles did not tear
away on Tambour Major; for though still annoyed with Mrs. Hammond, he
had by this time got his temper under control. It was a trying time
for Tambour Major, who hated being held back, and pushed and jumped so
as to be very disagreeable company at close quarters. He was very
disagreeable indeed to Major Winton, who had eaten a large lunch and
wanted to digest it quietly; and equally disagreeable to Frank Somers
and Ellen Tyrrell, who were engaged in a conversation which compelled
them to keep their horses at a walking-pace. The only person who was
really pleased was Mrs. Hammond, who in Tambour Major's struggles and
plunges saw her way to the end which she had all along intended to
accomplish.
"That's more show than business, I'm thinking, Sir Charles," said she,
pointing with her whip to the horse as he gave a tremendous plunge.
"How do you mean 'show,' Mrs. Hammond? I only know it's all I can do
to hold him steady."
"Let him have his head, then; he looks as if he would rush his fences,
and had not the least notion of steady jumping."
"You should have seen him this morning; he--"
"You took good care I should not, by running away from us."
"He'd do just the same going home. I can take you the way I came, over
some of the prettiest jumps you have ever seen," said Mitford, getting
nettled about his horse. "Come, who'll follow?"
"I, for one," said Mrs. Hammond; but no one else spoke.
"They only want a lead; come, let us show them the way;" and as he
spoke, Sir Charles turned his horse out of the high-road up a short
sloping embankment on to a broad stretch of moorland, and with Mrs.
Hammond close by his side, was away at full gallop. The rest of the
riding party looked after them, but did not attempt to follow. Major
Winton, finding himself decidedly _de trop_, lit a cigar, and jogged
lazily along by himself, while the others continued their
conversation.
Away go the big black horse and the dark iron-gray, side by side,
flying over the purple moorland, Lady Jane holding her own well with
her companion, let him tear and struggle as he may to shake her off.
Now far away to the right looms dark the first obstacle, which Sir
Charles points out with his whip, and at sight of which Mrs. Hammond
rings out a merry little laugh. As they approach, it developes itself
as a double line of posts and rails, good stiff oak timber, which must
either be cleared or declined, through which there is no scrambling.
Tambour Major sees it already, and rushes at it with a great snort of
triumph, clearing it at a bound. Nor is the gray to be balked;
scarcely has he alighted, foam-flecked and trembling, in the field
beyond, than Lady Jane is by his side.
"That's number one," said Sir Charles; "the next we shall find just at
the end of--" but Mrs. Hammond laid her whip upon his arm. She had
previously looked round and marked that they were far out of the range
of observation by their late companions.
"Quite enough," she said; "I am satisfied with Tambour Major's
performances, and own I did him grievous injustice. From the manner in
which he went at that, I am certain he could do anything. Besides,"
she added, bending forward and patting Lady Jane's neck with her
pretty dogskin gauntlet, "I wanted to speak to you."
"To me, Mrs. Hammond?"
"Yes, to you--to you, alone. You are angry with me?"
"I--angry? 'Pon my word I can assure you--I--"
"Ah, don't deny it." Her voice dropped into its most musical and
softest key. "Do you think I am not quick to read any change in your
manner?"
"No, but really--I haven't the least right to--"
"The least right! I thought you had promised to be my friend,--my
firm, steadfast, constant friend. Ah, if you knew how I have longed
for such a friend,--one in whom I could confide, and who would advise
me!"
She dropped her head on her breast as she said this, and the red rays
of the dying sun touched the tight braids of her chestnut hair with
gold.
"Such a friend you will find in me," said Mitford; "I meant it when I
said it--I mean it now."
"No," said Laura plaintively, "no; you have other ties and other
claims upon you, and it must not be. The world cannot understand such
confidence as I would give and receive; it is too pure and too earnest
for worldly comprehension.--Already--but I won't speak of that."
"Finish your sentence, please."
"No, it was nothing, really nothing."
"Then tell me, or I shall fancy it was something. Tell me."
"How you compel me to obey you! I was going to say--it's excessively
silly of me; very probably it was only my own foolish notion, but I'm
so nervous and anxious about anything which concerns--my friends; I
thought that Lady Mitford seemed a little annoyed at your obvious
intention of riding with me this morning."
She stole a look at him under her hat to see how he received this
shot.
"Who? Georgie! annoyed? Oh, you must have been mistaken. I should have
noticed it in an instant if that had been the case."
"You think so! Well, then, very likely it was my mistake. And I was so
frightened, so fearful of causing any misunderstanding between you, so
terrified at the thought of getting you into trouble, that I at once
called that odious Major Winton into my service, and have suffered him
to bore me with his _niaiseries_ throughout the day."
"Oh, _that_ was the reason that you flirted with Winton, then! I
thought--"
"Thought what? Ah, I've caught you! You were angry then?"
"Well, perhaps,--just a little."
"I should have been deeply hurt if you had not been; it would have
showed that you had no real interest in me, and that would be
dreadful. Just before I knew you, I held my life as utterly valueless,
the daily repetition of a dull dreary task,--nothing to live for,
nobody to care for. And this morning, when I thought you were really
angry with me, that feeling came back so hopelessly--oh, so
hopelessly! I think I should die if I had no one to take interest in
me now."
She moved her hand towards the little pocket in her saddle-flap for
her handkerchief, but he stopped it in its descent and held it in his
own.
"While I live," said he, "you will never have cause to make that
complaint."
And their eyes met,--hers soft and dreamy, his fierce and eager. A
delicious interchange of glances to the persons concerned, but perhaps
not so pleasant to a looker-on. Apparently very displeasing to the
only one then present--a tall slim woman, picking her way in a very
cattish manner across the adjoining meadow; who stopped on catching
sight of the equestrians, frowned heavily as she watched them, and
crouched under the shadow of the hedge until they had passed.