DARK SUSPICIONS.
But oh, that hapless maiden?--
Where may she wander now, whither betake her,
From the chill dew, amongst rude burrs and thistles?
Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now.
Or, 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm
Leans her unpillowed head, fraught with sad fears.
What, if in wild amazement and affright
Or while we speak, within the direful grasp
Of savage hunger.
MILTON.
The liberal offer which the King of the Peak made for the recovery of
his daughter fired his followers with enthusiasm; for, although they
had searched willingly enough before, both for the sake of love and
duty, yet the tempting reward added to their zeal, and each one set
out on his journey anew, feeling pretty confident that very soon he
would be at least twenty nobles the richer.
As the shades of evening fell, and the twilight began to fade into
darkness, the prospect of finding the maiden grew fainter and fainter,
until at length the most hopeful gave up the search and returned
disconsolately to Haddon, hoping that the maiden would be found at the
Hall, and that with her return the chance of gaining the twenty nobles
was irretrievably lost. Sir George was the last to return, and the
jaded condition of his horse told far more plainly than ever words
could have done how far he had ridden.
He had hoped, amid fear and trembling, that his lost darling had been
found. He even half expected her to meet him upon his return; but all
his anticipations were rudely dispelled. Not a trace of her had been
found, and crushed by the ill news, he retired to the solitude of his
dressing room, with his riding accoutrements unremoved, and gazed for
a time meditatively into the empty fireplace, in an agony of fear as
to the fate which had befallen her. So far, there was no clue to guide
him; he could not even imagine or suspect any adequate reason for her
absence; he could only ruminate sorrowfully on the fact that she was
gone, and lament his inability to find her.
He was pondering in this fashion when a gentle knock at the door
aroused him from his reverie.
"Enter," he gruffly and impatiently responded.
The door opened and Lettice entered. Her face was suffused with tears.
"Well, Lettice," he inquired in a somewhat gentler voice, "what is it,
eh?"
"Is there any news of my mistress?" she tremblingly asked.
"None," he replied, "would God there were."
The maid curtsied and withdrew, but ere she had closed the door, the
baron called her back.
"Lettice!" he cried.
She was in the room again in an instant.
"Is Sir Thomas Stanley here?" he asked.
"He is with Mistress Margaret, keeping watch in Sir Henry's room," she
replied.
"Bid him attend me here, then," he commanded. Lettice closed the door
again, and with a feeling of keen disappointment went off to discharge
her mission.
Sir Thomas received the summons ungraciously, but feeling constrained
to obey it, he bade the maid keep his betrothed company, and telling
her not to let her eyes depart from De la Zouch he hastened to see Sir
George.
When the good folk of Haddon awoke next morning, they were summoned
to the Hall by the sound of the bell. The news of Dorothy's mysterious
disappearance had quickly spread, and feeling sure that some
announcement concerning her was about to be made, they quickly flocked
into the courtyard curious to learn the latest tidings.
They were not disappointed. Sir George repeated his offer of the
previous day, increasing it upon the impulse of the moment to fifty
nobles, and he at once despatched a number of his household to renew
the search.
Meanwhile De la Zouch, to revenge himself upon the baron for
his behaviour to him on the preceding afternoon, continued in a
well-feigned semi-unconscious state, and throughout the day he
declared himself too faint and dazed and altogether unfit to explain
Dorothy's absence. Although besieged with inquiries from early
morning, he remained obstinately deaf to all entreaties, nor was it
until the evening that he professed himself able to understand their
inquiries or returned intelligent answers to their questions.
"I was almost killed by that treacherous esquire," he whined, as he
began his explanation.
"Never mind that, tell us about Dorothy," interrupted the baron.
"I am coming to that," he replied. "No sooner were we started than I
began to suspect mischief. I could see that Manners did not want me."
"Very like," interrupted Sir Thomas dryly.
De la Zouch felt hurt by the unfeeling remark, and he looked hurt,
too, but Sir Thomas took no note of it, and the effort was futile.
"Why did you not come, Crowleigh?" he continued, changing the
expression of his countenance from anger to agony, "then all would
have been different."
It would, indeed, but not as Sir Henry implied.
"I was hindered," returned Sir Everard, highly nettled at the other's
tone and speech. "My horse fell lame with a stone in his shoe, and I
had to return."
"At Cromford he set a pack of knaves upon me," pursued De la Zouch,
with the coolest audacity. "I was almost murdered; I tried to save
her, but what could I do? They were ten to one, and whilst I fought
like a madman, Dorothy and Manners laughed at me to my face and rode
off together."
"You lie," returned Crowleigh, hotly.
"Do I?" he replied with a sneer, "then prithee what does this bespeak,
and this, and this?" and he showed in turn the scratches and bruises
on the various parts of his body.
"At Cromford?" inquired the baron. "Did you say at Cromford?"
"Aye, at Cromford, Sir George. I struggled hard to rescue Dorothy for
thee, but it was of no avail. No man can combat ten and win."
"I passed Cromford myself and saw naught of it, nor yet had any of the
villagers," said the baron severely.
"And what means this?" continued De la Zouch, pointing to the battered
hat and soiled and torn clothes. "Do not these alone prove that I am
speaking but the truth? Can you doubt me longer now?" and he glanced
round indignantly, and acted his part so well that he almost persuaded
himself that he was a much-abused and persecuted person.
"Did no one witness the struggle, Sir Henry?" asked the sceptical
Stanley. "Was there not one during all that time passed by?"
"In faith, Sir Thomas, I know not," he replied. "I found no time to
look. I had work enough to do to save my skin, I assure you. He has
taken her to London."
"The ingrate!" warmly exclaimed Lady Maude, who had just entered the
room. "And Dorothy is worse than he. Let them go, Sir George, they are
not worth the finding; let them go."
"Well, 'twas a knightly thing to do, to leave a lady; a right gallant
thing, nay by my troth it was," said Stanley, severely. "And my
brother is on his way here, too; what will Edward say?"
"Poor Sir Henry, we have judged thee hardly, I fear, but we must try
to make amends for it now," said the dame sympathetically.
"She _must_ be found; she _shall_," interrupted the baron, emphasising
the last word with a stamp of the foot. "Manners shall suffer though
I--"
"Tush, Sir George, let them go," interrupted his good lady. "They will
want to return soon enough."
"Nay, she must be traced and brought home again," said Stanley.
"Edward would die of chagrin else."
"She shall be found," repeated the baron decisively.
De la Zouch had mentally calculated that a slight relapse in his
condition would probably arouse a wider feeling of sympathy for him,
and to secure this end he closed his eyes and gasped for breath, but
the feeling of suspicion was too firmly rooted to be dispelled so
easily, and he opened his eyes again to find his companions as cold
and unsympathetic as before.
"You have not told us all," exclaimed Crowleigh. "Manners would never
leave his host in so graceless a style, I know."
"Have I not told thee the truth, Sir George?" De la Zouch meekly
appealed, "and do not these rents and scars bear me out? 'Tis a pretty
reward for a noble fight is this," and he finished with a sigh of
profound discontent.
"I believe thee," returned the baron slowly, to whom the evidence of
the torn garments and De la Zouch's wounds appeared irresistible.
"And was not my poor horse lamed by the miscreants, who would have
killed it outright had I not interposed myself?" continued Sir Henry.
"Are all these things to count as naught, and is not the absence of
the lovers itself sufficient proof? What more do you require? What
have you to disprove these things? Why should you doubt me?" and he
looked round in triumph, feeling sure that his reply was perfectly
unanswerable.
"He speaks the truth, Sir Thomas," said the old knight. "We owe a debt
of gratitude to thee, Sir Henry."
"I found this knife where De la Zouch was lying," said Stanley
bluntly. "I thought it was his, and so I brought it for him."
De la Zouch gazed with horror upon the tell-tale weapon, but in an
instant he decided how to parry the thrust.
"'Tis mine," he cried, hastily snatching it away. "The villains
wrested it from my grasp."
"And part of the blade was buried in the horse's flank," pursued Sir
Thomas. "I discovered it there when the horse dashed into the yard
covered with blood and foam."
"The wretches!" interjected De la Zouch.
"And yet, Sir Henry, methought the struggle took place at Cromford,
and that would be nigh three miles from where I found the knife."
Sir Henry turned livid with anger, and was at a loss how to reply,
when Lady Vernon fortunately came to the rescue.
"You struggled worthily, sir knight," said she, "and I would that the
cause had been more worthy of thy mettle. We cannot doubt thee more."
"I cannot contradict thee," went on Margaret's lover, "but you will
show us the exact scene of the fray, Sir Henry, of course?"
"Assuredly I will, to-morrow--if I am well enough," he added
carefully.
Sir George Vernon noted the answer with displeasure. He was not very
strong in his belief of Sir Henry's innocence as yet, though the
evidence in De la Zouch's favour would have been decisive enough for
him had not Stanley shaken it so.
"Has thy Dorothy forsaken thee, then, Sir George?" asked Crowleigh
pertinently.
"Why no, Sir Everard--yes; that is--I cannot say," he hopelessly
replied. "It must be so, and yet, no! I cannot believe it either."
De la Zouch ground his teeth in ill-suppressed rage. Matters had taken
a decidedly unfavourable turn; he was being sorely worsted, and he
wished himself far away. The suspicions of Sir Thomas Stanley were
pressing uncomfortably near him, and he found himself in a quandary
how to evade them.
"I am doubted, Sir George, I see," he said angrily. "Lady Vernon
is the only one who does me justice. I will go. Your deed shall be
blazoned to the world. Is this the boasted hospitality of the King of
the Peak?--then I disdain it. I shall shake the dust off my feet and
shall depart at once, and you will find out when too late that you
drove away in such a scurvy fashion the truest friend you ever had,"
and boiling over with well-simulated fury, De la Zouch leapt from
his chair and passed through the doorway, chuckling to himself at the
success of his little scheme to extricate himself.
He was liberated now from the awkwardness of his false position. His
day's rest and the attention he had received had done wonders towards
effecting his recovery, and ordering a horse to be saddled, a few
minutes later he passed out of the precincts of the Hall, and hoping
that he would never have occasion to return, he mustered up his
strength and started out upon a midnight ride to Ashby.