“Captain Overton was one of the gayest men about London until a year or
two ago. Since then, it is said, he has turned Methody. It is believed
he goes to Mr. Wesley’s meetings, although he has never been actually
caught there. He lives plainly, and, some say, he gives his means to
the poor; he will not go to the races any more, nor play, and he does
not like to see Arabella play.”
“What has he to do with Arabella?”
“Nothing that I know of, except that she likes him. He does not like to
see any one play now, although he gamed very high himself at one time.”
I had seen no particular marks of interest on Overton’s part toward
Lady Arabella; but, watching her, I saw, in a very little while, the
deepest sort of interest on her part toward him. She even left the
card-table for him, and kept fast hold of him. I recalled the way she
had striven to attract his attention at the play that night, more
than two years before, and my jealous soul was illuminated with the
knowledge that she was infatuated with Overton--and I was right.
Some time afterward, whom should I see walking in but Giles Vernon!
Lady Hawkshaw received him most graciously. I went up to him and asked,
“How came you here?”
“Did you think, Dicky, that I meant to let you keep up a close blockade
of the lovely Arabella? No, indeed; I got a card at seven o’clock this
evening, by working all day for it, and I mean to reconnoiter the
ground as well as you.”
I thought when he saw Lady Arabella with Overton that even Giles
Vernon’s assurance would scarcely be equal to accosting her. He marched
himself up with all the coolness in the world, claiming kinship boldly
with Overton, who couldn’t forbear smiling, and immediately began to
try for favor in Arabella’s eyes.
But here I saw what I never did before or since with Giles Vernon--a
woman who was utterly indifferent to him, and actually seemed to
dislike him. She scarcely noticed him at first, and, when he would not
be rebuffed, was so saucy to him that I wondered he stood it for a
minute. But stand it he did, with the evident determination to conquer
her indifference or dislike, whichever it might be.
Overton seized the excuse of Giles’ approach to escape, and left the
house, which did not cause Lady Arabella to like Giles any better. She
returned to the card-table, Giles with her, and, by the exercise of the
most exquisite ingenuity, he managed to lose some money to her, which
somewhat restored her good humor.
At last the rout was over, and, soon after midnight, all had gone. I
was shown to a bedroom, with only a partition wall between me and Sir
Peter and Lady Hawkshaw; so I had the benefit of the nightly lecture
Lady Hawkshaw gave Sir Peter, with the most unfailing regularity. On
this particular night, they came nearer agreeing than usual, both of
them discussing anxiously Lady Arabella’s marked fondness for play.
And Lady Hawkshaw told of a late escapade of Lady Arabella’s in which
a certain ace of clubs was played by her; the said ace of clubs
being fashioned out of black court-plaster and white cardboard. When
detected, Lady Arabella professed to think the whole thing a joke, but
as her adversary at the time was a very old lady whose eyesight was
notoriously defective, it took all of Lady Arabella’s wit and youth
to carry it off successfully, which, however, she did. As for her
trinkets, Lady Arabella was always buying them, and always taking a
distaste to them, so she alleged, and Lady Hawkshaw suspected they took
the place of shillings at the card-table. Sir Peter groaned at this,
and remarked that the earl, her father, was the worst gamester he
ever knew, except her grandfather. I do not remember any more. I tried
to avoid hearing what they were saying, but every word was distinctly
audible to me, until, at this point, I fell asleep and dreamed that
Lady Hawkshaw was appointed to command the _Ajax_, and I was to report
on board next day.
V
I spent several weeks in Sir Peter’s house, and strange weeks they
were in many respects. I never had the least complaint to make of the
kindness of Sir Peter or Lady Hawkshaw, except that Lady Hawkshaw
insisted on investing my money, all except ten pounds which she gave
me, charging me to be careful with it; but Sir Peter secretly lent me a
considerable sum, to be repaid at my majority.
Sir Peter was actively at war with all the women-folk in the household,
from his lady down, except little Daphne. He assumed to conduct
everything in a large town house in Berkeley Square exactly as if he
were on the _Ajax_, seventy-four. He desired to have the lazy London
servants called promptly at two bells, five o’clock in the morning, and
to put them to holystoning, squilgeeing, and swabbing off the decks, as
he called it. Of course the servants rebelled, and Sir Peter denounced
them as mutineers, and would have dearly liked to put them all in
double irons. He divided the scullions and chambermaids into watches,
and when they laughed in his face, threatened them with the articles
of war. He wished everything in the house stowed away in the least
compass possible, and when Lady Hawkshaw had her routs, Sir Peter,
watch in hand, superintended the removal of the furniture from the
reception-rooms, which he called clearing for action, and discharged
any servant who was not smart at his duty. He had a room, which he
called his study, fitted up with all the odds and ends he had collected
during forty years in the navy, and here he held what might be called
drumhead courts-martial, and disrated the domestic staff, fined them,
swore at them, and bitterly regretted that the land law did not admit
of any proper discipline whatever.
It may be imagined what a scene of discord this created, although Sir
Peter was of so kind and generous a nature that the servants took
more from him than from most masters, and, indeed, rather diverted
themselves with his fines and punishments, and, when dismissed,
declined to leave his service, much to his wrath and chagrin. The acme
was reached when he attempted to put the cook in the brig, as he called
a dank cellar which he determined to utilize for mutineers, as on
board ship. The cook, a huge creature three times as big as Sir Peter,
boarded him in his own particular den, and, brandishing a rolling-pin
that was quite as dangerous as a cutlass, announced that she would no
longer submit to be governed by the articles of war, as administered
by Sir Peter. She was sustained by a vociferous chorus of housemaids
and kitchen girls who flocked behind her, the men rather choosing to
remain in the background and grinning. Sad to say, Admiral Sir Peter
Hawkshaw, C.B., was conquered by the virago with the rolling-pin, and
was forced to surrender to the mutineers, which he did with a very
bad grace. At that juncture Lady Hawkshaw hove in sight, and, bearing
down upon the company from below stairs, dispersed them all with one
wave of her hand. Sir Peter complained bitterly, and Lady Hawkshaw
promised to bring them to summary punishment. But she warned Sir Peter
that his methods were becoming as intolerable to her as to the rest of
the family, and Sir Peter, after a round or two for the honor of his
flag, hauled down his colors. This became especially necessary, as his
retirement was at hand, consequent more upon an obstinate rheumatism
that fixed itself upon him than his age. There was doubt whether
he would get the K.C.B., which he certainly well deserved, on his
retirement; there was some sort of hitch about it, although, after the
capture of the two French ships, he had been promoted to the office of
admiral. Lady Hawkshaw, however, went down to the Admiralty in a coach
with six horses and three footmen and four outriders, and, marching in
upon the First Lord, opened fire on him, with the result that Sir Peter
was gazetted K.C.B. the very next week.
Little Daphne, who had always submitted to Sir Peter’s whims, did so
more than ever after he had been vanquished by the cook; and Sir Peter
swore, twenty times a week, that Daphne had the stuff in her to make a
sea-officer of the first order.
My infatuation for Lady Arabella continued: but I can not say she ever
showed me the least mark of favor. But that she did to no one except
Overton, and I soon knew what everybody in the town knew, that she
was desperately smitten with him, and would have bestowed herself and
her fortune upon him at any moment, if he would but accept it. As for
Giles Vernon, she showed him what no other woman ever did,--a coolness
at first, that deepened into something like active hatred. She knew he
stood between Overton and the heirship to the Vernon estates, and that
was enough to make her dislike him. She often remarked upon his want of
good looks, and she was the only woman I ever knew to do it. Yet Giles
was undeniably hard-featured, and, except a good figure, had nothing in
his person to recommend him. I had thought that pride would have kept
Giles from paying court to a person so inimical to him; but pride was
the excuse he gave for still pursuing her. He declared he had never,
no, never, been flouted by a woman, and that Lady Arabella should yet
come at his call. This I believed at the time to be mere bravado. He
was enchanted by her, that was the truth, and could no more leave her
than the moth can leave the candle.
I saw much of Daphne in those days, chiefly because I could see so
little of Lady Arabella, who led a life of singular independence,
little restrained by the authority of Lady Hawkshaw, and none at all
by Sir Peter. Daphne was fond of books, and commonly went about with
one under her arm. I, too, was inclined to be bookish; and so there was
something in common between us. She was keener of wit than any one in
that house; and I soon learned to take delight in her conversation, in
Lady Arabella’s absence. My love for the Lady Arabella was, I admit,
the fond fancy of a boy; while Giles Vernon’s was the mad infatuation
of a man.
Giles was much with us at that time; and I acknowledge I had great
benefit from the spending of his prize-money--or rather, I should
say, much enjoyment. He laid it out right royally, asked the price
of nothing, and, for the time he was in London, footed it with the
best of them. His lineage and his heirship to Sir Thomas Vernon gave
him entrance anywhere; and his wit and courage made his place secure.
Shortly after we arrived, Sir Thomas Vernon also arrived at his house
in Grosvenor Square. We were bound to meet him, for Giles went much
into gay society, as I did, in the train of Lady Hawkshaw. The first
time this occurred was at a drum at her Grace of Auchester’s, where
all of London was assembled. Even Overton, who was rarely seen in
drawing-rooms, was there. Giles, of course, was there; her Grace had
fallen in love with him, as women usually did, the first time she met
him.
It was a great house for play; and when we arrived, we found the whole
suite of splendid apartments on the lower floor prepared for cards.
There was the usual crush and clamor of a fine London party; and I,
being young and unsophisticated, enjoyed it, as did Daphne. Names were
bawled out at the head of the stairs, but could not be distinguished
over the roar of voices. I happened to be near the door, with Giles,
Lady Arabella being near by, when I heard the name of Sir Thomas Vernon
shouted out, as he entered.
He was a man of middle size, and was between forty and fifty years
of age. He might once have been handsome; but the ravages of an
evil nature and a broken constitution were plainly visible in his
countenance. I observed that, as he stood, glancing about him before
making his _devoirs_ to the Duchess of Auchester, no one spoke to him,
or seemed disposed to recognize him. This only brought a sardonic grin
to his countenance. He advanced, and was civilly, though not cordially,
received by her Grace. At that moment, Giles approached, and spoke to
her, and the change in the great lady’s manner showed the favor in
which she held him. Sir Thomas scowled upon Giles, but bowed slightly;
and Giles returned the look by a steady glance, and this stinging
remark:
“Good evening, Sir Thomas. You look very ill. Is your health as
desperate as I heard it was two years ago?”
A titter went around at this, and Giles moved off, smiling. Sir Thomas
was unpopular, there could be no doubt about that.
Presently Sir Thomas caught sight of Lady Arabella, and, as usual, he
was instantly struck by her exquisite beauty. He succeeded in being
presented to her, and I noted that she received him with affability.
About midnight the company broke up, and our party made a move to go,
but Lady Arabella announced that she had been invited by her Grace
of Auchester to stay the night, and she wished to do so. Neither Sir
Peter nor Lady Hawkshaw perfectly approved; but Lady Arabella carried
her point, with the assistance of the duchess. At the last moment, her
Grace--a fine woman--approached me, and said confidentially,--
“Mr. Wynne,--Glyn, I mean,--will you not remain, and share a game with
a choice collection of players?”
I was flattered at being asked; and besides, I wanted to see how these
great London ladies acted at such play, so I accepted. But it was
another thing to get away from Lady Hawkshaw. However, I managed to
elude her, by giving a shilling to a footman, who shoved me into a
little closet, and then went and told Lady Hawkshaw I had gone home in
a coach with a gentleman who had been taken ill, and had left word for
them to go without me. This pacified her, and she and Sir Peter and
Daphne went away with the crowd. There were left about twenty persons,
who, after a little supper, and general expressions of relief at the
departure of the other guests, sat down to play, at one in the morning.
There was a cabinet minister, also a political parson, two peers of the
realm, several officers of the Guards, Giles Vernon, and your humble
servant. The ladies were mostly old,--Lady Arabella was the youngest of
them all,--but all very great in rank.
I had wanted to see London ladies play--and I saw them. Jack, with his
greasy cards, in the forecastle, laying his month’s wages, was a child
to them. And how they watched one another, and quarreled and fought!
No one among them played so eagerly as Lady Arabella; and very badly,
as usual, so that she managed to lose all her money. She was ever a bad
player, with all her passion for play. Her last guinea went; and then,
determined not to be balked, she rose and said, laughing,--
“I have on a new white satin petticoat, with lace that cost three
guineas the yard. It is very fit for waistcoats. No gentleman will be
so ungallant as to refuse my petticoat as a stake.”
Of course, they all applauded; and Lady Arabella, retiring behind
a screen, emerged with her satin petticoat--how it shone and
shimmered!--in her hand. And in five minutes, she had lost it to Giles
Vernon!
There was much laughter, but Giles, gravely folding it up, laid it
aside; and when we departed, in the gray light of dawn, he carried it
off under his arm.
As for me, I had lost all the money I had with me, and had given my I O
U for three hundred pounds.
Next day Lady Arabella was dropped in Berkeley Square by her Grace of
Auchester. It was in the afternoon, and I was sitting in the Chinese
room with Lady Hawkshaw and Daphne when Lady Arabella appeared.
“Well, Dicky,” she said,--a very offensive mode of addressing me,--“how
do you stand your losses at play?” And, as I am a sinner, she plumped
out the whole story of my play to Lady Hawkshaw and Daphne. As an
officer and a gentleman, I scorned to retaliate by telling of the white
satin petticoat. But vengeance was at hand. Just as she had finished,
when Lady Hawkshaw was swelling with rage, like a toad, before opening
her main batteries on me, and Daphne’s fair eyes were full of contempt
for me, we heard a commotion outside. None of us could keep from going
to the window, and the sight we saw threw Lady Arabella into a perfect
tempest of angry tears.
A fife and drum were advancing up the street, playing with great vigor
the old tune known as “Petticoats Loose.” Behind them marched, with the
deepest gravity, a couple of marines, bearing aloft on their muskets
a glittering shimmering thing that fluttered whitely in the air. It
was Lady Arabella’s satin petticoat; and, halting before the door,
the drum, with a great flourish, pounded the knocker. On the porter’s
responding, the two marines handed the petticoat in with ceremony to
him, directing him to convey it to the Lady Arabella Stormont, with the
compliments of Lieutenant Giles Vernon of his Majesty’s service. This
the man did, and was almost torn to pieces by her for doing so, though
in what way he had offended, I know not to this day. It was a trifling
thing, and made laughter for us all (including Lady Hawkshaw), except
Arabella. She seemed to hate Giles with a more virulent hatred after
that, and tried very hard to induce Lady Hawkshaw to forbid him the
house, which, however, Lady Hawkshaw refused to do.
[Illustration: It was Lady Arabella’s satin petticoat. _Page 92_]
Neither Giles nor I had by any means forgotten our appointment to meet
Captain Overton on the field of honor; and as the time approached for
the meeting, Giles sent a very civil note to Overton, asking him to
name a gentleman who would see me to arrange the preliminaries, for I
would never have forgiven Giles had he chosen any one else. Overton
responded, naming our old first lieutenant, Mr. Buxton, who happened
to be in London then, and was an acquaintance of his. I believe
Overton’s object in asking Mr. Buxton to act for him was the hope that
the affair might be arranged; for from what I had heard of the deeply
religious turn Overton had taken, I concluded the meeting was somewhat
against his conscience. But the indignity of a blow in the face to an
officer could not be easily wiped out without an exchange of shots. My
principal was much disgusted when Mr. Buxton was named.
“I know how it will be, Dicky,” he growled. “You will sit like a great
gaby, with your mouth open, imagining the tavern parlor to be the
cockpit of the _Ajax_. Mr. Buxton will talk to you in his quarter-deck
voice, and you will be so frightened that you will agree to use
bird-shot at forty paces, provided Mr. Buxton proposes it.”
This I indignantly denied, and swore I would meet Mr. Buxton as man to
man. Nevertheless, when we were sitting at the table in Mr. Buxton’s
lodgings, I did very much as Giles had predicted. I forgot several
things that I had wished to say, and said several things I wished I had
forgotten. Mr. Buxton did not let me forget, however, that he had been
my first lieutenant, and I was but a midshipman. He called my principal
a hot-headed jackanapes before my very face, adding angrily,--
“But for him I should have been first on the _Indomptable’s_ deck.” To
all this I made but a feeble protest; and finally it was arranged that
the meeting should take place at a spot very near Richmond, at eight
o’clock, on the morning of June the twenty-ninth.
When the date was set, and the arrangements made, I began to feel very
much frightened. Not so Giles. There was to be a great ball at Almack’s
on the night of the twenty-eighth and Giles announced that he was
going. It was a very special occasion for him, because the Trenchard,
whom he still called the divine Sylvia, and professed to admire as
much as ever, was to go that night. She was then the rage, and had a
carriage, diamonds, and a fine establishment, yet I believe her conduct
to have been irreproachable. She had long been consumed with a desire
to go to Almack’s, but up to that time no actress had ever yet enjoyed
the privilege. It seemed grotesque enough that a young midshipman,
of no more consequence than Giles Vernon, should succeed in carrying
this through. But such was actually the case; and Giles accomplished
it by that singular power he possessed, by which no woman could say
him nay. He worked with much art upon those great ladies, her Grace of
Auchester and Lady Conyngham, and got them pledged to it. Of course,
the most violent opposition was developed; but Giles, who had a perfect
knowledge of the feminine heart, managed to inspire these two ladies
with the wish to exercise their sovereignty over Almack’s, by doing
what was never done before. Having led them into the fight, they had no
thought of running away; and the result was innumerable heartburnings
and jealousies, and meanwhile a card for Mrs. Trenchard.
The noise of the controversy was heard all over town, and it was
discussed in Berkeley Square as elsewhere. Lady Hawkshaw was no longer
a subscriber to Almack’s. Not being able to rule it, she had retired,
the assembly rooms not being large enough to hold herself and a certain
other lady.
Giles had told me that on the evening of the ball he and other
gentlemen interested in the victory for Mrs. Trenchard would escort
her to the ball. So at eight o’clock I proceeded to the lady’s house
in Jermyn Street, and saw her set forth in state in her chair. She
was blazing with diamonds, and looked like a stage duchess. A long
company of gentlemen with their swords attended her, and Giles and
my Lord Winstanley led the procession. Mrs. Trenchard was the best
imitation of a lady I ever saw, as she sat in her chair, smiling and
fanning herself, with the linkboys gaping and grinning at her; and the
gentlemen especially, such as had had a little more wine than usual,
shouting, “Way for Mrs. Trenchard! Make way there!”
Yet it seemed to me as if she were only an imitation, after all, and
that Lady Hawkshaw, with her turban and her outlandish French, had
much more the genuine air of a great lady. Mrs. Trenchard would go to
Almack’s on any terms, but Lady Hawkshaw would not go, except she ruled
the roost, and fought gallantly with the duchesses and countesses, only
retiring from the field because she was one against many.
I followed the merry procession until we got to King Street, St.
James’s, where the coaches were four deep, and footmen, in regiments,
blockaded the street. Giles and Lord Winstanley were to take Mrs.
Trenchard in, and very grand the party looked as they entered. By that
time, though, I was very miserable. I remembered that at the same time
the next night, I might not have my friend. I hung around among the
footmen and idlers, watching the lights and listening to the crash of
the music, quite unconscious of the flight of time, and was astonished
when the ball was over and the people began pouring out. Then, afraid
to be caught by Giles, I ran home as fast as my legs could carry me.
When I reached Berkeley Square, it was altogether dark, and I realized
that I was locked out.
I looked all over the front of the house, and my heart sank. There
was a blind alley at one side, and I remembered that in it opened the
window of Sir Peter’s study, as he called it, although, as I have said,
it was more like the cubby-hole of the _Ajax_ than any other place I
can call to mind. The window was at least twenty feet from the ground,
but a waterspout ran up the wall beside it, and to a midshipman, used
to going out on the topsail-yard, it was a trifle to get up to the
window. I climbed up, softly tried the window, and to my joy found it
open. In another minute I was standing inside the room. I had my flint
and steel in my pocket, and I groped about until I found a candle,
which I lighted.
I had often been in the room before, but its grotesque appearance
struck me afresh, and I could not forbear laughing, although I was in
no laughing mood. There was a regular ship’s transom running around
the wall. The whole room was full of the useless odds and ends that
accumulate on board a ship, all arranged with the greatest neatness and
economy of space, and there was not one single object in the room which
could possibly be of the slightest use on shore.
I looked around to see how I could make myself comfortable for the
night, and, opening a locker in the wall, I found a collection of old
boat-cloaks of Sir Peter’s, in every stage of dilapidation, but all
laid away with the greatest care. Taking one for my pillow and two more
for my coverlet, I lay down on the transom and, blowing out the candle,
was soon in a sound sleep.
I was awakened at five o’clock in the morning by the chiming of a
neighboring church bell, and at the same moment, I saw the door to the
room noiselessly open, and Lady Arabella Stormont enter, carrying a
candle which she shaded with her hand. I involuntarily covered my head
up, thinking she had probably come in search of something, and would be
alarmed if a man suddenly jumped from the pile of boat-cloaks. But she
went to a glass door which led out upon a balcony, with stairs into the
garden, and unlocked the door. I had completely forgotten about these
stairs, not being familiar with the room, when I climbed up and got in
through the window.
Presently I heard a step upon the stairs, and before the person who was
coming had time to knock, Lady Arabella opened the door. The rosy dawn
of a clear June morning made it light outside, but inside the room it
was quite dark, except for the candle carried by Lady Arabella.
A man entered, and as soon as he was in the room, she noiselessly
locked the door, and, unseen by him, put the key in her pocket.
As he turned, and the candlelight fell upon his face, I saw it was
Philip Overton. Amazement was pictured in his face, and in his voice,
too, when he spoke.
“I was sent for in haste, by Sir Peter, just now,” he said, with some
confusion.
At which Lady Arabella laughed, as if it were a very good joke that
he should find her instead of Sir Peter. Meanwhile, my own chaos of
mind prevented me from understanding fully what they were saying; but
I gathered that Lady Arabella had devised some trick, in which she
had freely used Sir Peter Hawkshaw’s name to get Overton there in
that manner and in that room. Sir Peter was such a very odd fish that
no one was surprised at what he did. It was no use striving not to
listen,--they were not five feet from me,--and I lay there in terror,
realizing that I was in a very dangerous position. I soon discovered
that Overton’s reputation for lately-acquired Methodistical piety had
not done away with a very hot temper. He was enraged, as only a man can
be who is entrapped, and demanded at once of Lady Arabella to be let
out of the glass door, when he found it locked. She refused to tell him
where the key was, and he threatened to break the glass and escape that
way.
“Do it then, if you wish,” she cried, “and rouse the house and the
neighborhood, and ruin me if you will. But before you do it, read this,
and then know what Arabella Stormont can do for the man she loves!”
She thrust a letter into his hand, and, slipping out of the door to
the corridor, as swiftly and silently as a swallow in its flight, she
locked it after her; Overton was a prisoner in Sir Peter’s room. He
tore the letter open, read the few lines it contained, and then threw
it down with an oath. The next minute he caught sight of me; in my
surprise I had forgotten all my precautions, and had half arisen.
“You hound!” he said. “Are you in this infernal plot?” And he kicked
the boat-cloaks off me.
“I am not,” said I coolly, recalled to myself by the term he had used
toward me; “and neither am I a hound. You will kindly remember to
account to me for that expression, Captain Overton.”
“Read that,” he cried, throwing Lady Arabella’s letter toward me. I
think he meant not to do a dishonorable thing in giving me the letter
to read, but it was an act of involuntary rage.