BARBARA'S SELF-SACRIFICE
There were few coaches and lackeys in the square when Sydney Fellowes
left Lady Bolsover's. Hastily taking leave in the hall of an
acquaintance who seemed inclined to bear him company, he hurried away,
too much absorbed in his thoughts to think of the dangers of the streets
for a lonely man at that hour of the night. He went quickly to Pall
Mall, and entered a coffee-house there. A man at once rose from a corner
to attract his attention. It was Martin Fairley.
"She evidently expected someone to-night," said Fellowes in a low tone
as they sat down together, "but I cannot guess who, nor whether it was
man or woman. Of one thing I am certain, whoever she expected, Mistress
Lanison was disappointed."
"Who was there?"
"Sir John Lanison for one, Martin. No, his niece did not expect him, nor
Lady Bolsover either. His arrival was a surprise to both of them."
"And to me," Martin answered; "but it is bad news. What brings him from
Aylingford? Can Rosmore be in town?"
"No, that is impossible," returned Fellowes. "He is busy with
preparations for the assizes, and is in command of the military force
placed at the disposal of Judge Jeffreys. For the present Rosmore is
tied to the West. I would he might find a speedy grave there."
"Sir John comes like an ill-omened bird; I wish I knew his reason," said
Martin thoughtfully. "Did he speak with his niece?"
"A few words only, and there was the courtesy as of strangers between
them. I could not hear what was said, but it was nothing that had any
special interest for Mistress Lanison. Her expression did not change."
"Do you imagine you can read her so easily?"
"Ah, Martin, I know; there is no imagination in it. Were I cunning with
a brush and colour, I could paint you a thousand of her expressions and
tell you the thoughts which lay behind them all. I am a lover, remember,
with all a lover's quick perception, although the lady I worship thinks
no more of me than of the soiled glove she casts aside."
Martin looked at him for a moment in silence, and then laid his hand on
his arm.
"Soiled gloves go in pairs, Master Fellowes."
"You mean--"
"There is small difference sometimes between a lover and a madman. Had I
my fiddle with me I might play to you all that I mean."
Fellowes drummed with his fingers on the little table before him for a
moment, and then seemed to shake himself out of a dream.
"There must be too few women in the world, Martin, when the desires of
so many men are for one. To-morrow--what must be done to-morrow?"
"I shall see her to-morrow afternoon; until then I cannot tell what is
to be done. A message will find you at your lodging?"
"Yes, I shall wait. If I do not hear, I shall make some excuse for being
at Lady Bolsover's again in the evening."
Outside the coffee-house they separated. Where Martin went at nights
Fellowes did not know, nor did he inquire. Fairley could find him, if
necessary, and that was enough.
Neither did Barbara know where Martin lived, or she would surely have
sent him a message next day, for long before noon she had made up her
mind to act without delay.
The coming of Sir John was as ill-omened to her as it was to Martin. In
some manner, she was convinced, his presence in London nearly concerned
her, and much might depend on her promptness in carrying out the
resolution she had made. So she awoke with a convenient headache, and
had the news conveyed to her aunt. Then, assured that she would be left
undisturbed, she dressed very carefully, anxious to look her best, and
even practised her most winning smiles before her mirror. Her maid, who
could be trusted and was a child of intrigue by nature, loyally assisted
her mistress, and they were able to leave the house together without
hindrance. Calling a coach, they were driven to the Temple, where Judge
Marriott had his lodging. Barbara had determined to appeal to him. If he
would, he certainly could save Gilbert Crosby, and, if she hoped so to
entreat him that the reward he asked for his help should not be too
heavy, she was prepared to pay whatever price he demanded. In
imagination she saw herself his wife, and though she shuddered at the
thought she never contemplated stopping the coach and going back to St.
James's Square, her mission unfulfilled.
"Judge Marriott has left London," said the servant when Barbara inquired
for him.
"When does he return?"
The servant did not know. It seemed evident that his general
instructions were to be reticent concerning his master's going and
coming.
"I must see him without delay on a matter of the gravest importance--the
gravest importance to him," said Barbara, and she was surely speaking
nothing but the truth, for the easy winning of her must be of great
moment to any man. "Can you tell me where I shall find him? Has he gone
to Aylingford Abbey?"
The man thought not, but his imagination did not appear to help him
further than that.
"It is most important," repeated Barbara, and in her hand was a golden
bribe.
"I ought not to give any information," said the man, "but you say it is
important to my master. He has set out for Dorchester to deal with some
of the rebel prisoners there."
"You are sure he goes first to Dorchester?"
"Quite certain, madam."
Barbara was deeply thoughtful as the coach drove back to St. James's
Square. An unforeseen obstacle was placed in the way of her
self-sacrifice, an obstacle so great that it did not seem possible to
overcome it. Was Judge Marriott's absence of her uncle's contriving? It
did not seem probable, but she was in the mood to connect him with all
disaster, and when, on returning to the house, she learnt that Sir John
was there with Lady Bolsover, her suspicions seemed confirmed. Barbara
was the more determined to defeat his schemes. She would certainly have
sent to Martin had she known where to find him, but as it was she was
obliged to act for herself.
Harriet Payne came at noon, with a sad and gloomy countenance.
"What is it?" Barbara asked. "Is there further and worse news?"
"No, nothing further."
"Your face has a wealth of trouble in it."
"Indeed, madam, and is it any wonder?" the girl asked. "I am so
helpless, and I could wish to be so strong. Every hour counts, and what
can I do?"
"You have travelled far to ask my help, that is something."
"Yes, madam; but yesterday you gave me little hope, and even that little
is gone. In this matter you are as helpless as I am."
Barbara laughed, a little hardly perhaps, remembering in which direction
her power lay.
"Had I been powerless, do you suppose your master would have sent you to
me? I have had to decide whether I shall use that power."
"And you will use it?"
"I have already tried to do so this morning, and failed."
"Here? In London?"
"Yes. In which direction did you imagine my power lay?"
"I could not tell, but I thought--I thought it must be in Dorchester
where my master is a prisoner. Madam, there are powerful men in the West
who may be bribed, who are being bribed every day. I thought it was with
them you would have to deal."
"The man I hoped to see in London is gone to the West," said Barbara.
"Then--"
"Yes, I intend to follow him, and at once. In this enterprise you will
be of more service to me than my own maid. Will you go with me?"
"Gladly, madam," and the girl's face brightened at once. "I have made
the journey to London more than once, and know that at the house where
the coach stops a carriage and horses can be procured."
"You are beginning to make yourself useful at once," Barbara returned.
"Wait here for me. I have to give my maid instructions, and then we will
start without delay."
Barbara told her maid to be on the watch for Martin Fairley, and to tell
him that she had gone to Dorchester.
"He will understand why," she said; "and as I shall not want you with
me, and yet do not want you to be questioned, you had better return to
the Abbey as soon as you have seen Martin. Be sure and do not let anyone
hear you give the message."
The girl had friends in London, and asked if she might spend a day or
two with them before returning to Aylingford.
"It will fit my plan excellently," Barbara answered. "Leave this house
as soon as you possibly can after seeing Martin, and if your friends
will have you, stay with them until I send for you. You will be well out
of the way of questions."
"No questions would make me betray you," said the girl.
"I know, but your face is a tell-tale one," Barbara answered. "You have
the virtue of not being able to lie easily."
The girl was honest, and it was no fault of hers that she failed to
deliver her message to Martin Fairley. She saw him come to the house,
and hurried down to him, meaning to catch him in the square and speak to
him where none could overhear her, and so carry out her mistress's
instructions to the letter. But Fairley had departed quickly, and was
nowhere to be seen. For some time she waited for his return, and when he
did not come, thought it best to fulfil the other part of her
instructions and leave the house at once.
The servants at Lady Bolsover's knew nothing of Martin Fairley, not even
his name. He had twice been admitted to see Mistress Lanison, but, for
all the servants knew, he was some tradesman with whom she had dealings.
Many such came to Lady Bolsover's. As Martin came to the door that day
one servant called to another to fetch a coach for Sir John Lanison,
and, hearing that Sir John was in the house, Martin departed quickly,
saying that he would come at a more convenient hour. He did not want Sir
John to know that he was in London, but he was curious to know upon what
mission Sir John had come to town. Here was an opportunity to satisfy
his curiosity which he had not counted upon, and he turned swiftly into
the first alley which presented itself, and waited. He was so intent on
watching for Sir John that he failed to notice Barbara's maid, who on
her side was not anxious to attract too much attention either from those
who might be at the windows of the house or from idlers in the square.
Fairley had to wait nearly an hour, and then Sir John came. He took no
notice of the coach, had no doubt given the servants some instructions
concerning it, but walked leisurely across the square with the air of a
man at peace with himself and all the world. Whatever plot might be on
foot, it had received no check, and Fairley argued the worst from that
handsome, smiling face.
"He is delighted with some great villainy," he said to himself as he
came from his hiding-place and followed him.
Sir John Lanison was conscious that some attention was paid to him as he
passed. He was a fine gentleman, and retained a little of that
old-fashioned grace which had been the admiration of the town a couple
of decades ago, when foolish women had looked upon him almost as a hero
of romance, and men had thought twice before raising the anger of so
accomplished a swordsman. A remembrance of former triumphs, with perhaps
a little sigh to keep it company, came to him as he went towards the
Haymarket, but certainly no thought of Martin Fairley was in his mind.
His destination was a hostelry where he was evidently known, and there
was a rush to do his bidding. He was travelling to Aylingford to-morrow,
and must needs have the best coach and horses procurable. He was going
alone; yes, and would start at an early hour. His orders were received
with bows and much obsequiousness.
"Tell me, landlord, have you sent out a coach in that direction to-day?"
"Not to Aylingford, sir."
"But in that direction. The road does not only lead to the Abbey."
"Why, yes, sir; a coach started for the West early this afternoon," was
the answer.
"In these days the traffic sets more this way," said Sir John. "What
kind of passengers were they?"
"Two women; one closely veiled, but if her face were equal to her
figure, to hide it was cheating mortals out of a pleasure. The other was
a maid, a pert little baggage who ordered us about somewhat."
"Going to Exeter?"
"No, to Dorchester."
Sir John nodded, and the smile of satisfaction seemed permanent.
"You observe closely, landlord. I warrant you could describe the
mistress's clothing for all you were so ordered about by the maid."
The landlord grinned, and proved his observation by a somewhat close
description.
"I get asked such questions sometimes," he said, "when a mistress runs
away, or a rebel makes hastily for the sea-coast and safety. It is well
to be observant."
Sir John laughed, and having demanded that the post-boys supplied
to-morrow should not be of the sort who see a highwayman in every broken
tree trunk by the wayside, he departed.
The conversation had been overheard by a crowd of loafers in the
adjoining room, who had suspended their drinking to watch this fine
gentleman to whom the landlord was so attentive. Then the clatter and
conversation began again, and only one man was interested enough to seek
further information. He had only entered a few moments ago; now he
approached the landlord.
"I heard your description just now; it interested me."
The landlord looked at Fairley from head to foot, and then brought his
eyes to bear keenly on his face.
"You are not known to me."
"But I am to the lady, unless I mistake not. You spoke of runaway
mistresses, and truly I think that shot at a venture found its mark."
"You would follow her?"
"If your answer to a question or two satisfies me, I will ride without
delay the best horse you have."
The questions were asked, and Martin was so satisfied that he was
impatient to be gone.
"So that I am well paid it's no odds to me," said the landlord. "I made
the lady no promise, and she's not the first who has grown tired of her
husband, nor will she be the last."
"She may thank you for giving me the information," Fairley answered.
"Ink and paper quickly, landlord; I must write a letter before I go."
By the time the horse was ready the letter was written.
"Find a messenger for this, landlord, and see that it is delivered
without delay. There is payment for the messenger; tell him he will
receive a like sum from the gentleman to whom this is addressed."
There was a certain awkwardness about Martin Fairley as he rode out of
the yard, enough to show that he was not so accomplished a horseman as
some men; yet he had improved in his riding since he had borne Gilbert
Crosby company from "The Jolly Farmers" that night.
The letter was delivered to Sydney Fellowes before Fairley had gone many
miles upon his journey.
"I believe Mistress Lanison is on her way to Dorchester, and I am
following," Fellowes read. "What plan is in her mind I cannot tell, but
since it seems to give Sir John much satisfaction, I argue that some
trap lies in the way. It is possible that I may be mistaken, so will you
go to Lady Bolsover's to-night and make sure that Mistress Lanison has
gone. If she has, and you can come, make all haste to Dorchester. There
is a little tavern called 'The Anchor' in West Street. No one of
consequence would use it, so you shall find word of me there."
Not many hours later Sydney Fellowes was also riding towards the West.