LADY BETTY'S ADVENTURE
It was a week before Kit was allowed to see all her friends. Bet was
given permission to slip in once in a while, just to reassure the sick
girl that she was all right. Kit kept worrying and would wake up
terrified, believing that Bet had been drowned.
Shirley and Joy made daily visits to the Manor. They helped Auntie
Gibbs in the kitchen; they did everything they could for the nurse and
even helped Mrs. Stacey so she could come and sit with Kit.
Bet was not allowed to get up, as the exposure and strain had made her
heart play strange tricks.
"She's just tired, that's all," said the doctor. "Nothing to worry
about," he assured Colonel Baxter, who was anxious as he looked at the
pale face of his daughter.
"Tired and half frightened to death," laughed Bet as she pressed her
father's hand. "It's good to be near you, Dad."
At first the doctor had forbidden anyone to mention the accident to
Kit, but as she seemed to be worrying over something he finally told
Bet to go and talk the matter over with her.
"Oh Bet, what do you think of me? It was all my fault!" exclaimed the
sick girl, as she raised herself on her elbow.
"That's all nonsense. It was every bit mine. Dad says so and he ought
to know."
"But I coaxed you to go across the river," moaned Kit. "I'll never
forgive myself!"
"Of course you coaxed me to go across the river, but I should have
known what to expect with a sky like that. I just didn't think. Dad
says that's no excuse at all."
"Bet, dear, it was terrible sitting there in the bottom of the boat and
being too stupid to help any." Kit shuddered at the remembrance.
"Why, Kit Patten! You think you didn't do anything! In the first
place you kept the boat baled out as well as anyone could. If you
hadn't, we'd have been swamped."
"That wasn't anything, Bet."
"If it hadn't been for you we would both have been drowned. If you had
been paddling, you couldn't have caught the rope and tied the loops.
And I wouldn't have known how to tie a loop so it would hold. You
saved our lives! Dad and I will never forget it."
"Bet, you're silly! You know Bob and Phil came."
"They couldn't have done anything. If they had come any nearer, the
canoe would have capsized."
"Did I really do my part? I've been worried about it."
"And then some!" laughed Bet. "You're the heroine of the occasion.
Now let's forget it!"
It seemed as if Kit had only been waiting to get the burden off her
mind before recovering completely. Within a few days she was sitting
up, receiving her friends and was planning on going back to Mrs.
Stacey's.
Colonel Baxter wanted to keep her with them for a while, promising her
all sorts of good times to make up for the unhappiness she had had, but
Mrs. Stacey thought it wiser to take her home.
"Never mind, Kit, we'll have that good time before long. We'll have a
big party and ask all our friends," comforted Bet.
"That sounds splendid," exclaimed the Colonel. "We'll do it as soon as
you get acquainted and find out what young people you like."
"But I don't want you to go home tomorrow," pleaded Bet. "Coax Mrs.
Stacey to leave you another day."
Kit laughed: "Well you know we've coaxed for one more day and then one
more day and got them. No, I think we'd better not say a word. Anyway
I do rather want to get back there."
"I know how you feel, of course. Home is home."
"I tell you what I'd like to do this last afternoon, Bet. I'd like to
go down in the big hall so I can see Lady Betty Merriweather. Let's
spend my last afternoon with her."
Helped by Bet, Kit descended the winding stairway and lay on the couch
where she could see the portrait that she loved. The sun was shining
brightly now and shafts of colored lights, from the stained glass, made
beautiful patterns on the rug. It seemed to give the room just the
romantic setting that belonged to Lady Betty.
The girls liked to imagine sometimes that they had really known the
lady.
"She used to be so gay and happy that everyone loved her," Bet's voice
was dreamy and seemed to come from far away. "And in these very rooms
she held parties that were the talk of the Colonies, for all the great
people here knew her and felt proud to be her guest."
"I should think she must have been the most popular woman in America at
that time."
"I'm sure of it. And she was hardly more than a girl. Only twenty-two
when Lord Cecil brought her here as a bride, to be mistress of the
Manor."
"He must have been terribly proud of her!"
"I read a story about her once, how when the Revolution started, she
felt that it was something that did not concern her at all. She
wouldn't consent to have Lord Cecil mix into the trouble at all, for
they had so many friends on both sides."
"I know just how she felt, don't you, Bet?"
"Of course! Lady Betty didn't want to think about wars and fighting.
She wanted to have parties and make people happy. But of course the
estate and everything they had, was from the English Crown, for his
services here."
"I should think she would rather have given it up than get into the
quarrel."
"And that's exactly how she felt about it," exclaimed Bet. "And while
they made up their minds not to take sides, it wasn't easy to do. All
their friends had made a decision, some on the English side and some on
the American. And after a while, Lord Cecil and Lady Betty got into
it, too."
"And I know which side they chose," cried Kit excitedly. "They decided
to fight for America."
"Yes, think of it!" cried Bet. "At that time Washington's forces were
being defeated all around here, and it must have seemed to them that
they were giving up their lovely home."
"And did Lord Cecil go to the war and fight?" asked Kit.
"Yes. And Lady Betty smiled as he rode away. That is until he was out
of sight."
"She must have been very unhappy without her husband," whispered Kit.
"Then after Lord Cecil had been fighting for about two months, Lady
Betty received a message from him, telling her to get to the American
lines, down near King's Bridge, just as soon as possible. The English
were advancing and if they found her at the Manor they would make her
answer all kinds of questions and perhaps keep her a prisoner, hoping
to get information." Bet paused for a moment and gazed up at the
portrait.
"Go on Bet! What did she do?"
"She left an old servant in charge at the Manor and started out on
horseback with just a small colored boy to carry her portmanteau. And
just imagine, Lady Betty had never before been out after nightfall
without an escort. She must have been terribly frightened."
"But that wouldn't stop her, I know!"
"No. She galloped along the Post Road.--And Kit, doesn't it give you a
little thrill to know it's the very same road that runs past the house
now?--And pretty soon she saw some riders coming toward her in the
distance. So she turned off on another road that was not used much.
It would lead her to King's Bridge but was a longer way there. But
they hadn't gone far when she again saw a rider, this time ahead of
them. The man looked as if he couldn't sit straight in his saddle. He
seemed to sway.
"Then Lady Betty recognized the horse. It was Monarch, Lord Cecil's
own mount. 'Hurry Sam!' she cried fearfully, 'It's Monarch!'"
"And was it Lord Cecil?"
"Yes, he had been wounded but had escaped from his enemies. And it is
a good thing he did, for he was carrying a message to his own army.
But when he saw Lady Betty, he almost fell from his horse, and would
have, if she had not supported him."
"Oh the poor man!" murmured Kit.
"But just in a minute Lord Cecil recovered himself. 'I've got to get
through,' he whispered. 'They are depending on me!' But he had lost
so much blood from the wound in his leg that he was too weak. And then
a wonderful thing happened. Lady Betty supported him until they came
to an old hut where Martha Sikes lived. She was an aged servant of the
Manor and was pensioned by Lord Cecil.
"And here Lady Betty, after assuring herself that the wound was not
dangerous, left her husband in the care of Sam and the old woman and
rode away with the message. Lord Cecil was too weak and tired to
object."
"My! That was a brave thing to do! I don't believe I would have had
the courage to do it."
"Not many of us would, but Lady Betty Merriweather never hesitated.
She started out all alone, when every shadow of the night terrified
her. And she rode furiously with no thought of the accidents that
might occur on the rough road. She kept right on and delivered the
message into the hands of the General in charge. And the paper she
carried was a warning that the enemy would attack that night."
"Think of it!" mused Kit. "Wasn't that wonderful. She saved the army,
I'm sure."
"Yes. The General wanted to send an escort back with her but Lady
Betty refused, saying that he would need all his men for the battle
that would be sure to come.
"Once on her return trip she saw riders coming and quickly drew her
pony to the side of the road and hid behind a clump of bushes. And
although her horse was fiery and never stood quietly before, now it was
perfectly still. Wasn't that wonderful!"
"I think," said Kit with a slight quiver in her voice, "that horses
know everything that is going on."
"That one must have, for it stood motionless. And Lady Betty scarcely
breathed. She heard the two riders talking! And she heard her
husband's name! And until that minute she thought perhaps they were
her friends.
"'Lord Cecil is a traitor! He deserves to be hung!' exclaimed one
voice in angry, excited tones. 'And he will be before many days go by.
I've never yet missed a man I've been sent out to get.'
"'And if we capture him alive, we'll get double pay, is that it?' asked
the second voice.
"'And not only that but I am to have his estate. I'll be the next Lord
of the Manor!'"
"Poor Lady Betty! It's a wonder she didn't scream!" exclaimed Kit.
"She was too wise to do that. Everything depended on her being brave
and not losing her head. At this very moment someone might be at old
Martha's cabin to take away Lord Cecil. If a price was on his head, he
was not safe for a second."
"And then what?" asked Kit excitedly. "What did she do then?"
"She waited until the riders were out of sight again and then went on.
Then at a turn in the road, she came face to face with another man on
horseback. Lady Betty was sure now that it was the end. She would be
imprisoned or held and not allowed to warn her husband. But her horse
whinnied and trotted beside the other horse and she saw the face of the
man. It was Denby, her old servant, whom she had left in charge at the
Manor."
"And what was he doing there?" exclaimed Kit impatiently. "I thought
she told him to guard the Manor."
"No, Denby was true. He noticed after she left that in her excitement
she had forgotten her bag of money, and he was on his way to King's
Bridge with it. So he turned and rode back with her toward Old
Martha's cabin."
"It was good he came, wasn't it?"
"Yes, for a few minutes after that, the old servant touched her sleeve.
'I hear distant riders, it must be soldiers! Let us take to the woods
here until they pass.'
"It seemed almost impossible, they thought, that the soldiers did not
see them, for they had not been concealed when the British troop rode
by on the way to the attack at King's Bridge. Lady Betty was trembling
with fright, as the officer in command called, 'Halt!'"
"O--ooh!" exclaimed Kit. "I would have died of fright, I know I would!"
"But Lady Betty didn't. She held on to the bridle with a firm grasp
and hardly breathed. You see she had to save not only her husband but
the Manor as well. Everything depended on her. Every moment she
expected to see the troops following them and the call to fire, but
after a short rest, the order to march was given and Lady Betty drew a
sigh of relief.
"They kept to the fields from then on, and in an hour saw the little
cabin dark, gloomy and poverty-stricken, in front of them.
"At the first sound of horses stopping, old Martha came to the door,
ready to put up a fight if need be, but when she recognized Lady Betty
she shouted with joy, 'Sam, brisk up that fire a bit, it's your
mistress returned.'"
"I know Lady Betty went straight to her wounded husband," said Kit
triumphantly.
"Of course," exclaimed Bet. "She wouldn't wait a second. He was
tossing about on the bed, anxious about the safety of his wife. And
when he saw her coming into the room, he held out his hands to her, and
there were tears in his eyes. After he had held her in his arms to
assure himself that she was safe, he said, 'Betty, the message?' She
hastened to reply: 'I delivered it right into General Brock's hands.
Do not worry, the message went through.'
"Lord Cecil didn't get well quickly. The wound in his leg was worse
than they thought at first. And he was weak from loss of blood. The
little cabin afforded so few of the comforts of life that she decided
to get Lord Cecil back to the Manor as soon as possible."
"But wasn't there greater danger there?"
"No, that is Lady Betty didn't think so. At the Manor were stores of
food hidden away, and here they were half starved. That's why she got
word to the old servant, to come and help her take the master home.
And when they got him home, they hid him away."
"Oh Bet, where did they hide him?" asked Kit.
"In that long tunnel, in the arched room."
"The one you showed me the other day, is that it?"
"Yes, that's the one. Lady Betty moved down all the comfortable things
he needed, and she stayed there with him, living in the tunnel."
"And did people guess it, the enemy I mean?"
"No, they had good luck that way. The old servant took charge of the
house and cooked the food for them. They were not disturbed often, but
they could never be sure when a company of soldiers might come by and
stay for the night.
"And once the very men who were looking for Lord Cecil, stayed a day
and a half. Old Denby had a hard time keeping his temper, for they
ransacked the house. Only the fact that one of the men hoped someday
to be in possession of the estate, kept them from destroying the place.
"Lady Betty used to go back and forth through the Manor, always
listening for footsteps outside. And one night she got caught. She
came face to face with an officer of the British army, Colonel Webb.
The man was an intimate friend of Lord Cecil's and had been entertained
in the Manor many times."
"O--oh Bet! What happened?"
"Lady Betty gave a little gasp of dismay. 'Arthur Webb! You here!'
she exclaimed.
"'Yes, Betty, but do not fear, I will not harm you or give away your
secret. I thought you were miles from here.' You know, Kit, I always
like to think that Colonel Webb was half in love with her, for he came
and kissed her hand over and over again. Wasn't that lovely?"
The girls gave themselves up to their dreams for
a little while, then Kit said, "And did Colonel Webb
find out that Lord Cecil was there, too?"
"He suspected it after a while, for he knew that Lord Cecil had been
wounded and was ill. So he begged her to let him see his friend. But
it was only after much pleading that she finally allowed him to descend
the steps that led to the tunnel. Colonel Webb waited until late in
the night to be sure that his men were asleep.
"The three friends spent the rest of the night talking of the happiness
they had had together, and the sorrow and tragedy that the war had
brought to all of them. Lady Betty must have been glad that she had
allowed Colonel Webb to come and spend those hours with them, for later
on he was killed in an engagement and they never saw him again."
"How sad they must have felt," whispered Kit.
"Yes. Lady Betty was never as gay again. You couldn't expect her to
be: she had seen and heard of so much suffering and disappointments."
"And did Lord Cecil ever go back to the war?"
"He was in the last campaign that meant victory for the Americans. By
the time the war was over, Lord Cecil was a poor man. He had the
Manor, of course, but there was little money and they had few luxuries."
"But I'm sure Lady Betty didn't care about that! She still had Lord
Cecil!"
"You know, Kit, I don't believe people have a chance now-a-days to show
so much courage. In those stirring times, one had to do daring things."
"If Lady Betty were alive now, I think she'd do something wonderful.
It was her nature."
"I think she'd be pleased if she knew about our club, don't you? _The
Merriweather Girls_! I half fancy her smile is sweeter since we
thought of it," smiled Bet. "She's the dearest thing, isn't she?"
"It's the most beautiful picture I've ever seen, Bet. Where did it
come from. Was it in the Manor when your father bought the place?"
"No, the picture was painted by Gilbert Stuart, the artist who made so
many pictures of Washington, and it was handed down by several people
and finally sold at auction."
"Think of anyone who owned it being willing to sell it at auction!"
"I'm glad they did, because that was how Dad got it. A number of
people wanted it. That's the time Peter Gruff bid against Dad and
finally had to give up, as Dad ran the price up too high for him. He
stormed and raved. But my mother had said she would like to have it
for her reception hall and after that, Dad insisted on having it. And
you know he usually gets what he wants. Don't you think he's
wonderful, Kit?"
"Indeed he is, Bet. Your father has been so good to me that I'd be a
very ungrateful girl if I didn't think he's the best ever."
There was a scratching at the door and Bet ran to open it. "Well
here's old Smiley Jim, come to see Kit! Nice old Smiley!"
The dog came in with a bound, switching his bushy tail about and
smiling up at his friends. Then after he had received their petting,
he went as he always did, directly under the portrait of Lady Betty
and, raising his head, barked three short, joyous barks.
"He always does that, Kit, always, just as if he knew her and had to
greet her."
"I think it's the finest thing I've ever seen a dog do."
"I really believe he thinks she's alive, for he's done that ever since
he was a tiny pup."
That afternoon Joy and Shirley came. "Hurry up and come back to
school, it's frightfully lonely without you," exclaimed Shirley. "Half
the life is gone from the class."
"For which the teachers consider themselves lucky."
"Maybe so," laughed Joy. "Oh dear, I've only been back for a few days
and I've been in trouble twice."
"What did you do?" laughed Bet. "Tell me about it."
"It wasn't much. Miss Owens sent me to the board with half a dozen
others and I was working the problem all right, but I forgot and began
to twirl on my toes. Just a few innocent dance steps, you know it
makes me think better."
"I was wondering how she ever kept still in school," said Kit, drawing
the girl to her.
"She doesn't," whispered Bet. "Between Joy's dancing and my dreaming,
those poor teachers have a time of it. We've been telling each other
all summer, that we were going to turn over a new leaf."
"And I've broken all my resolutions already."
"We'll have to remember that we are the Merriweather Girls and have
something to live up to. That's the trouble with having a club with
ambitions and aims and all the rest of it. We have to make good." It
was Shirley's quiet counsel.
"Lady Betty would never have danced in school, I'm sure of it!" Joy
kissed her finger tips to the portrait.
Bet and Kit both glanced up at the smiling face on the wall and it
almost seemed as if the lips twitched with amusement.
"I'm not so sure about that, Joy. Anyone with as much gaiety and
spirit as she had must have gotten into plenty of trouble in school,"
laughed Bet.
"Then I'm sure she tried not to," smiled Shirley, trying to encourage
Joy in her resolution. She was always unhappy when any of the girls
got into trouble.
"Is Miss Elder as sweet as she was last year?" asked Bet.
"Oh, she's sweeter than ever," exclaimed Joy.
"And Edith?"
"Oh that girl is always with us, to keep us from enjoying life too
much. Why don't they send her away to Boarding School or something?
She has already gotten two people into trouble by tattling."
"That girl's a pest!" Bet frowned with indignation.
"Lady Betty Merriweather would have won her friendship and changed her
whole character," said Kit, gazing into the smiling eyes.
Joy laughed. "You wait until you know Edith Whalen. Then you will see
if there is anything that can change her character."
"I must say I feel a little discouraged myself," said Bet, shaking her
head.