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THE IMPOSTOR
* * * * * *
_JOHN REED SCOTT'S PREVIOUS SUCCESSES_
THE WOMAN IN QUESTION
Distinctly modern in tone and theme is this sparkling romance centered
around an old mansion with a marvellous garden, where the new master
has come, to find mystery, misfortune, and love awaiting him.
"Alive with bristling incident, and has mystery, romance, love,
and beauty in bewildering profusion."--_Philadelphia Record._
Three full-page illustrations in color, by
Clarence F. Underwood.
_12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50._
THE COLONEL OF THE RED HUZZARS
A dashing love-story with a secret at its root, and danger, adventure,
and intrigue in every chapter.
"So naïvely fresh in its handling, so plausible through its
naturalness, that it comes like a mountain-breeze across the
far-spreading desert of similar romances."--_Gazette-Times,
Pittsburg._
Three full-page illustrations in color, by
Clarence F. Underwood.
_12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50._
THE PRINCESS DEHRA
A captivating romance in which we meet again the characters of "The
Colonel of the Red Huzzars."
"There are situations involving the principal characters which
are ingenious in conception and cleverly woven into the story
by essential and natural sequence, and at these situations the
reader feels a desire to continue the story, even if the house be
burning."--_Boston Evening Transcript._
Four full-page illustrations in color, by
Clarence F. Underwood.
_12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50._
BEATRIX OF CLARE
A fascinating story, the scenes of which are laid in England at the
time of Richard the Third. The heroine, the Countess of Clare, is a
beautiful and charming lady of the court, a protégée of the queen.
"Brisk and vivid."--_New York Evening Sun._
"Irresistibly attractive."--_Philadelphia North American._
Four full-page illustrations in color, by
Clarence F. Underwood.
_12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50._
* * * * * *
[Illustration: "MISS STIRLING, IS SIR EDWARD DANGEROUS, AS WELL AS
FASCINATING, OR SIMPLY FASCINATING?" ASKED MISS MARBURY. _Page 206_]
THE IMPOSTOR
A Tale of Old Annapolis
by
JOHN REED SCOTT
Author of "The Colonel of the Red Huzzars," "Beatrix of Clare,"
"The Princess Dehra," "The Woman in Question," etc.
With Illustrations in Color by Clarence F. Underwood
[Illustration: DROIT ET AVANT]
Philadelphia and London
J. B. Lippincott Company
1910
Copyright, 1910
By John Reed Scott
Published September, 1910
Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company
The Washington Square Press, Philadelphia, U.S.A.
DEDICATED
TO THE ONE WITHOUT WHOSE UNFAILING
COMFORT ENCOURAGEMENT AND ASSISTANCE
IN TIME OF SERIOUS AFFLICTION
AND DEEP DISTRESS THIS STORY
WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN FINISHED
FOREWORD
I have endeavored to tell an old story in a modern fashion. Wherein I
have failed, I beg indulgence; wherein I have succeeded, even a little,
I have to thank the Spirit of the Past, which still lingers in the
ancient capital and its environs.
To Mrs. Story, the present owner, who graciously permitted me to
inspect Whitehall; to Mrs. Dugan, Prudence R.--a direct descendant
of John Ridout, the Commissary-General--who gave me much information
concerning Governor Sharpe; and to Miss Shaffer, the State Librarian,
in whose charge are the _Maryland Gazettes_ of the period, as well as
to the _Gazettes_ themselves, I wish to express my sincere appreciation.
J. R. S.
GETTYSBURG, PENNA., 6 June '10.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--THE GOVERNOR'S NIECE 13
II.--SIR EDWARD PARKINGTON 24
III.--THE RACES 33
IV.--THE MARBURYS 46
V.--HEDGELY HALL AND MARBURY, SENIOR 59
VI.--THE MISTAKE 73
VII.--SIR EDWARD LAYS PLANS 88
VIII.--THE MEANING OF A SHRUG 104
IX.--THE SURPRISE 122
X.--THE DEFEAT 141
XI.--THE KEY 160
XII.--MAYNADIER'S DREAM 178
XIII.--THE CAMPAIGNS 196
XIV.--GUILTY AND NOT GUILTY 212
XV.--LONG-SWORD AGAIN 233
XVI.--THE CRESCENT AND THE STAR 253
XVII.--A LETTER AND A CONFESSION 271
XVIII.--THE BROKEN RENDEZVOUS 289
XIX.--ARRAIGNED 304
XX.--THE PENALTY OF A BIRTH-MARK 320
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"MISS STIRLING, IS SIR EDWARD DANGEROUS, AS WELL AS
FASCINATING, OR SIMPLY FASCINATING?" ASKED MISS MARBURY _Frontispiece_
"IT IS A QUEER TRADE, MONSIEUR, THIS OF A PIRATE," HE SAID 144
"WHAT WERE YOU AND SIR EDWARD TALKING ABOUT LAST NIGHT?" HE ASKED 306
THE IMPOSTOR
I
THE GOVERNOR'S NIECE
Martha Stirling came slowly down the steps into the garden, pausing
for a moment, on each step, lest the Governor hear her; then she sped
quickly across the lawn, and, bending over, kissed him on the cheek.
"Good morning, your Excellency!" she laughed.
Colonel Sharpe looked up, with a start.
"Bless me, girl! have some regard for your uncle's dignity," he said,
drawing her down on the arm of the chair. "It seems to me, young lady,
that you are a trifle clever in the kissing art, to never have been
kissed yourself."
"For shame, sir! You, a royal Governor--no, I mean a Lord Baltimore's
Governor--to intimate so scandalous a thing. It may be, sir, that, as
to you, I could truthfully not _intimate_.... Tell me, who is the young
man that came with Mr. Dulany."
"Ho, ho! That is the reason for the kiss: to make me amenable. Why did
you not say, 'the handsome young man'?"
"The handsome young man, then; indeed, the very handsome young man."
"He is a stranger in Annapolis."
"I know that."
"And what else?"
"What my eyes saw--graceful, easy, handsome, a man of the world."
"Oh, you women! Graceful, easy, handsome, a man of the world! You judge
by externals."
"And pray, sir, what else had I to judge by?" springing up; "I but saw
him--you spoke with him. How far am I amiss?"
The Governor smiled. "Not by the fraction of a hair, so far as I can
make it," he said. "He is Sir Edward Parkington, come from London for
his pleasure. He brought with him letters of introduction to Mr. Dulany
and myself. He seems to have been in a rather hard case, too. He took
passage from The Capes to Annapolis in _The Sally_, a bark of small
tonnage and worse sail. They ran into a storm; the bark foundered, and
all on board were lost, except Parkington; or, at least, he saw none
when, more dead than alive, he was cast ashore near Saint Mary's."
"The poor fellow! Did he lose everything?"
"Everything but the letters, which were in his pocket--and his charm of
manner and good looks."
"At least, we shall appreciate the latter."
The Governor looked at her rather quizzically. "Yes, I reckon you
will," he said. "At least, if you do not, it will be the first time."
His eyes fell on one, in the red and blue of the Royal Americans,
who just emerged from the house, and was hesitating on the piazza, as
though uncertain whether to descend. "It seems to me there is something
familiar in that personage. Do you know him?"
Martha turned and looked.
"Oh!" she said, "I do not want to see him. Why does he pester me?"
"Nevertheless, my dear, he is there; and I see he is coming here. So
take him off and make game of him, playing him this way and that; a
bit of encouragement, a vast disdain; and, then, send him off again
a little more securely hooked than ever.... Good morning, Captain
Herford, were you looking for us, or, rather, were you looking for one
of us?"
Charles Herford bowed, elaborately, his hand upon his sword-hilt, his
hat across his heart.
"If your Excellency please, I was," he said.
"Which one: Mistress Martha Stirling or Horatio Sharpe?" asked the
Governor, arising.
"Mistress Stirling, so please you," said Herford, with another bow.
"Then, I bid you good morning!" the Colonel laughed, and returned to
the house.
"Well, sir," said Miss Stirling, after a moment's silence, "what can I
do for you--or, rather, what can I do with you?"
"Treat me just faintly nice."
"Oh," she said, looking at him through half-closed eyes, "is that it;
humble, this morning!"
"Yes, humble, grovelling, anything to win your favor."
She turned, and they passed slowly among the flowers.
"Is humbleness the way to win a woman's favor?" she asked.
"I do not know. It seems to me the proper way--or, if not proper, the
more expedient way. Perchance, you will tell me."
A faint smile crossed her lips. "I?" she said. "I can tell you nothing.
My favor is not for your winning, Mr. Herford, nor for any one's else
in the Colony." She stopped, and plucked a rose. "Come, come, sir, be
sensible! Why cannot you be alone with me without thinking of favor or
love? Enjoy the morning, and the flowers, and these beautiful gardens,
sweeping away to the Severn, and the golden Severn itself, or the
silver Severn, whichever way you will have it; I am not particular."
"Do you mean," he said, with a laugh, "that I should go down and throw
myself off the dock?"
"No, nothing quite so bad as that; you know what I mean. Now, come
along, and not another word on the forbidden subject. Here!" and gave
him the rose.
"A thousand thanks!" he said, and kissed her hand.
"Sir Edward Parkington is a very handsome man," she observed,
presently; "don't you think so?"
"I am willing to accept your judgment on him."
"But what is your own judgment?"
"I have not any. I do not know Sir Edward Parkington."
"And have not seen him?"
He shook his head.
"Nor ever heard of him," he said.
"Is it possible that you blades of the Coffee-house must come to a
woman to learn the last gossip--and him a Sir?"
"It would seem so," he answered. "Who is this Sir Edward Parkington,
and from where?"
"From London--come to Annapolis with letters to his Excellency and to
Mr. Dulany. A very elegant gentleman, indeed."
"To have gained your favor, he must have been all that."
"Oh!" she said, "I just saw him for a moment, but it was quite
sufficient."
"I wonder," he said, watching her narrowly, "I wonder if he has a wife?"
She laughed, gaily. "Meaning that, if he had not, I might be his lady?"
Herford bowed. "Since it may not be in the Colony, best back to London
for the Colony's own good."
"Are you not a bit premature? Sir Edward may be married, and, even if
he is not, I may not suit him for a wife."
"I was assuming him to be a man of taste; of 'the high kick of fashion'
in all things."
"And so he is. I saw him only cross the lawn, to where Colonel Sharpe
was standing, but such ease and grace I never have seen exceeded--even
your Mr. Dulany appeared awkward, by comparison."
"Sometime, I hope to meet him and acquire a bit of polish," he said,
with a laugh in which good nature was just touched with scorn.
"Meanwhile, it were just as well to be a good soldier and retire."
"Not going, Captain Herford."
"Yes, going; you are in a teasing mood, this morning. You go to the
races to-morrow?"
"I certainly shall."
"And I may ride beside the coach?"
"If you wish," she said; "with Mr. Paca, and Mr. Hammond and----"
"And a score of others, of course."
He bowed over her hand a moment, then strolled away, singing softly the
chorus of the old troop song:
"Then over the rocks and over the steep,
Over the waters, wide and deep,
We'll drive the French without delay,
Over the lakes and far away."
Martha Stirling listened until the singing ceased, then she shrugged
her shoulders, and went slowly back to the house.
A month before she had come out from England to visit her
uncle--Colonel Horatio Sharpe, Governor of Maryland--and instantly
became the toast of all the young men of the Colony. There was nothing
surprising, possibly, in that; Governor Sharpe's niece would have been
popular if she had been without any particular attraction, but Miss
Stirling had attractions in abundance.
Under a great mass of jet black hair, piled high on her head,
was a face of charming beauty, with blue eyes that warmed and
sparkled--though on occasion they could glint cold enough--a perfect
nose, and a mouth made for laughter alone. In figure, she was just
above the average, slender and lithe. This morning, her gown was of
pink linen, and, as she passed up the steps into the mansion, one could
see a finely turned silk ankle, with white slippers to match.
Crossing the wide entrance hall, she knocked on a door, waited a
moment, and, receiving no reply, knocked again, then entered. It
was the Governor's room, but he was not in presence. As she turned
away, old Joshua, the white-haired negro who was his Excellency's
body-servant, appeared.
"Where is Colonel Sharpe?" she asked.
"Gone to the State House, Mis' Marfa."
She nodded in dismissal and went in, leaving the door open behind her.
Seating herself at the great, broad table, her glance fell on a letter,
opened and spread wide. Not thinking what she did, she read:
_London, 10th March, 1766._
_My Dear Sir_:
_This letter will Introduce to you Sir Edward Parkington for Whom
I bespeak your most courteous Attention and Regard. Extend him all
the Hospitality in your power. I am, Sir_,
_Your humble and ob'd't servant_,
_Baltimore_.
_To_
_His Excellency, Col. Horatio Sharpe_,
_Governor of Maryland_.
"So!" she said, "Baltimore himself sponsors Sir Edward Parkington;
which may mean much for his responsibilities but little for his
morals.... Well, he will serve to irritate Captain Herford; but can I
use him to draw Richard Maynadier one little step along?"
For a space she sat there, her forehead wrinkled in a frown. She did
not hear the voices at the front door, nor the footsteps that crossed
the hall, until they entered the room; then she glanced up, and a smile
of welcome shone from her eyes, as the man, who was in her thoughts,
stood before her.
"Mr. Maynadier!" she said, extending her hand across the table.
He bowed over it with easy grace. "His Excellency leaves a fair deputy."
"And what can that deputy do for you?"
"Much," he said. "Much that I dare not even hope. So I'll ask for only
that package on the table, there."
"Take it," she said--"take anything."
"Anything on the table, that is?"
The smile rippled into a laugh. "Take anything in the room," she said;
"there is none of them mine."
He drew a chair up to the table.
"May I," he said, "sit here a moment, while the Council waits?"
"If you wish," she answered; "you will have to answer to the Council."
He leaned back, and looked at her silently.
"Miss Stirling," he said, presently, "you are a flirt."
"What is that to you, sir?" she demanded.
He ignored the question. "You have half the young men of Annapolis
ready to pink one another, and praying but for an excuse."
"Again, sir, what is that to you?"
"You have Mr. Hammond, and Mr. Paca, and Mr. Jennings, and Mr.
Constable, and Captain Herford mad about you."
She gave him her sweetest smile. "You have forgotten Mr. Richard
Maynadier," she said.
"Mr. Maynadier is not in the running. He is content to look on----"
"With an occasional word of advice," she cut in.
"With an occasional word of advice," he agreed. "Meanwhile, content to
stand afar off and view the struggle."
She put both elbows on the table and leaned across.
"Why view it from afar," she said, sweetly; "why not join in the
struggle?"
"For several reasons," he said. "First, I am too old."
"I should never have guessed it."
"Second, I have not the graces that are requisite."
"I had not noticed it."
"And, lastly, I have not the inclination."
"That, I should never have guessed."
"No, I suppose not. We all are game for a pretty woman. Let a man but
bow and kiss her hand, and, behold! another suitor."
She sat up sharply.
"Mr. Maynadier, I will make a compact with you," she said. "You say
you are too old, have not the graces, and have not the inclination--so
be it. A flirt may have her friends. We will be comrades--I to use no
art of coquetry upon you, you to speak no word of love to me. Is it a
bargain?"
He regarded her with an amused smile.
"If you wish it," he said. "I think we both of us are safe enough
without it--though, who knows. At any rate, the flag of truce will hold
us.... Now, I will back to the Council. I will see you at the races,
to-morrow, of course."
"Yes; and I have a pistole or two which you may put on Figaro for me,"
she said, accompanying him to the door.
She stood and watched him, as he went down the walk toward North-East
Street, and disappeared.
"I wonder," she said, "I wonder.... Well, Mr. Richard Maynadier, we
shall see if you cannot be taught to have the inclination."
II
SIR EDWARD PARKINGTON
That night, the Annapolis Coffee-house was unusually popular. The
General Assembly was in session, and representatives of all the
prominent families of the Colony were in attendance. The Maryland
Gazette had just appeared, announcing that it would not print Samuel
Chase's answer, to the Mayor and Aldermen of the City, lest it be
libelous, and that Chase could issue it himself. The whole controversy
was of little moment and aimed at nothing. Nevertheless, it had
stirred up all the latent ill feeling, that had existed for some time
between Chase and his followers, on one hand, and the old residents of
Annapolis, on the other.
"Chase always was a firebrand!" exclaimed young Mr. Paca; "some day, he
will ignite the magazine on which he is sitting, and blow himself up."
"And the quicker he does it the better," suggested Mr. Hammond. "Chase
has ability, but he does not use it for good."
"That is what gives me no patience with him," said Mr. Worthington. "He
plays to the rabble--a queer trait for the son of a clergyman of the
Church of England."
"It is all for effect," said Mr. Paca; "to get clients, to get
prominence; down in his heart he has the same view as we have."
"That's it," said Mr. Cole, who was a bit the worse for liquor. "The
fellow isn't honest."
"Who is not honest?" asked a medium-sized, heavy-set man of
twenty-five, who had entered the room unnoticed.
"You!" returned Cole. "You don't believe what you say; you are playing
to the rabble."
Chase looked at Cole closely for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.
"I do not argue with a drunken man, much less quarrel with one," he
said. "Do any of you other gentlemen endorse his words?"
"Not as spoken," said Mr. Paca; "but what we did say, is that we do not
endorse your course as an official. You are the Public Prosecutor, and
we do not approve of the way you use your office.--That we said, and
that we stand behind."
"I am very sorry if I have not pleased you," said Chase, indifferently,
taking a chair beside Paca; "I understand that a public official is a
free subject for criticism, and the public may impugn his motives and
his judgment--with that I find no fault."
"You said I was drunk," exclaimed Cole.
"Did I?" said Chase. "Well, you're not--you're not. I was mistaken. I
apologize."
"It's granted," said Cole. "Have a drink with me.--Everybody have a
drink with me. Here, Sparrow--where the devil's the fellow--take the
gentlemen's orders.--Ah! sir," as a stranger appeared in the doorway,
"come in; we're just going to have a drink. What will _you_ have?"
The newcomer let his eyes rest, casually, on Cole.
"Permit me to decline," he said; "I was looking for some one."
"Your pardon, sir," said Mr. Paca, stepping forward; "are you not Sir
Edward Parkington?"
"I am," he said; "at your service."
Mr. Paca extended his hand. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am
William Paca; this is Mr. Hammond, and Mr. Worthington, and Mr. Cole,
and Mr. Chase."
Parkington acknowledged the introduction with a sweeping bow, and took
the proffered chair.
"What is your order, sir?" Cole persisted.
"A little rum and water, if you won't excuse me."
"I won't excuse you.--I won't excuse anybody," Cole averred. "Sparrow,
some rum and water for Sir Edward Parkington, and make haste."
"Are you here for any time?" inquired Mr. Hammond.
"I should say that I am," replied Parkington. "If the hospitality I
have received to-day is any test, you will not be quit of me for a
year."
"You honor us," said Mr. Paca.
"No, I do not; I simply appreciate you. We have not got a more charming
man, in London, than your Mr. Dulany; while as for your Governor, he
is a true officer of his Majesty."
"We have never had so popular a Governor. He is a natural leader," said
Mr. Worthington. "And now, that he has bought Whitehall, and erected a
spacious mansion overlooking the Bay, he has become one of us. The only
pity is that we have not been able to provide him with a wife."
"Not for want of charming women, I warrant."
"No, not on that account--Annapolis will yield to none in the beauty of
her daughters. It is said there is an old wound that rankles still."
"An old wound! got in England?"
"No, got in Maryland, the very day he landed at the dock, from the
good ship 'Mollie.' It is common rumor, and I violate no confidence
by telling. There came with him, as secretary, one John Ridout--now,
the Honorable John Ridout. He was met at the wharf by the Honorable
Benjamin Tasker, President of the Council and acting Governor, who
had with him his grandchild, Mary Ogle--then a mere slip of a girl of
fourteen, but giving promise of rare beauty in the future. It is said,
the Governor and John Ridout both fell in love that day, while they
walked up Green Street, and along the Spa to the Tasker residence. Five
years later, she chose the secretary, and gave the Governor nay."
"And Ridout remained the Governor's secretary?" Parkington asked.
"There showed the measure of the man. He is, to-day, the
Commissary-General of the Province, and member of his Excellency's
Council, and no one is so close to Governor Sharpe as is he."
"A pretty enough story," said Parkington; "do you think it is true?"
"We have no doubt of it."
"Well," observed Parkington, "one warms to him marvelously easy. What
ailed the lady, that she chose the subaltern when she could have had
the master?"
Mr. Paca laughed. "Women are a law unto themselves!" he said; "and
Ridout is marvelously handsome and nearer her own age." A gurgle,
ending in a prolonged snore, came from the chair beside him. "Ah! Cole
slumbers. We shall hear from him no more to-night."
Presently, the talk veered over to politics. Notice of the Stamp Act
being repealed had come to the Colony a month before, and had been
made the occasion for an ardent demonstration, though, as a matter of
fact, it had been a dead statute and unenforcible, in Maryland, from
the moment of its passage. An act, once it is off the books, may be
condemned in most disloyal language, and no offense be given, even if
it were the pet measure of a sovereign. But George the Third was a
stubborn monarch, and no sooner was the Stamp Act null and void, than
a new hobby was his, and one that required no legislation to support
it. And Samuel Chase, with a fine ignoring of the proprieties, soon hit
upon it.
"I understand," said he, "that recently an application for land, beyond
the Allegheny Mountains, was refused by the Board of Trade, in London."
Parkington was silent. Paca and Hammond both tried to change the
conversation, but Chase would not have it.
"The Board of Trade will find itself ignored," he said. "There will not
be any applications. The people will simply settle, and, when they are
settled, nothing but a royal army will move them off; and when a royal
army invades this country, for such a purpose, it means war."
With that, the rest broke in. Mr. Paca declared Chase spoke for himself
alone, and Mr. Hammond that he was anticipating trouble; but Sir Edward
Parkington surveyed Chase with a tolerant smile, and waved the matter
aside.
"Do not concern yourself to soften the views the gentleman has just
expressed," he said. "They give me no offense. I am a loyal subject of
his Majesty, but I think that the quicker we free America, the better
for both America and England. You will leave us some day, as the child
leaves the parent when it reaches maturity; the only question is,
when that time comes. I take it, that Mr. Chase is not trying to be
offensive, and, if no offense be intended, none is given." He arose.
"If any of you are going in the direction of Reynolds' Tavern, I shall
be glad for your company."
Mr. Paca and Mr. Worthington attended him as far as Saint Anne's, where
they parted; the two former going to their homes, on Prince George
Street, while Parkington continued around the Circle to the tavern.
"Send a mug of ale to my room," he said, to the man in the ordinary....
The fellow lighted the candles, put the drink on the table, and, after
a moment's wait, withdrew.
Parkington unbuckled his long rapier and flung it on the bed. Then he
seated himself and took a sip of the ale, stretched out his slender
legs, and laughed.
"Verily, the game is easier than I thought!" he soliloquized. "The real
Parkington could not have played it better; I think I shall enjoy my
visit to Annapolis. 'You are an unmitigated scoundrel, sir,' said my
esteemed father. 'I have paid your debts for the last time; I shall
give you passage to America, and one hundred pounds. Never let me look
upon your face again--and, if there be a shred of decency about you,
you will change your name. The De Lysles are done with you forever;
have the goodness to be done with them.'" He took another sip at the
ale, and laughed again. "Behold! my name is changed. I am Sir Edward
Parkington, now--and Baltimore himself vouches for me. It was a lucky
storm that sent the crazy 'Sally' to the bottom, and every one to the
devil, save only me; but it was a luckier fortune that washed the real
Sir Edward Parkington and me on the beach together, with him dead
and me alive--and the letters on his person. 'There is no one in the
Colony who knows me,' he had said, that very day. So, presto! Behold
Sir Edward Parkington risen, and me dead.... It would be devilish
awkward, if there is some one in the Colony who knows _me_--but that
is in the future." He drew out a copy of Lord Baltimore's letter to
his Excellency. "'Bespeak your most courteous attention and regard.
Extend him all the hospitality in your power.' I was shipwrecked; I
lost everything but the clothes on my back, and the letters, which were
wrapped in oilskin, in my pocket. Therefore, I think the Governor's
hospitality will have to be pressed for a loan. What, with him and Mr.
Dulany, and a certain natural ability of my own at the card-table, I
should be able to live very comfortably, here, for a year, at least.
This Annapolis is a neat enough town--I was astonished at it; and they
seem to do things reasonably well. The Coffee-house is quite the equal
of any we have in London, and the Governor's mansion and Mr. Dulany's,
near-by, are excellent.... This suit of clothes, I got in Saint Mary's,
will answer until Pinkney can replace my wardrobe--lost when the ship
went down!" He chuckled, softly, to himself. "And the fellow is not
half bad; his styles are six months behind the fashion, but that is a
small matter, when every one is wearing them.... Altogether, I think
Sir Edward Parkington will have a pleasant year--at least, he is going
to enjoy it while it lasts. After that, the deluge."
III
THE RACES
Miss Stirling fastened the cross-shaped watch to the left side of her
gown, pressed into place a patch near her eye and another near her
dimple, and, with a last look in the glass, arose.
Her gown was of blue lustring, long-waisted and laced over a stomacher,
exquisitely guimped and pinked. A sacque, of the same material, hung
from her shoulders to the ground and formed a train, and on her head
was a large chip hat, with feathers and pinks.
She crossed to the window and drew aside the curtain. The coach was
waiting, and beside it were Mr. Paca and Mr. Worthington and Captain
Herford. She went back to the glass, took another survey, dabbed a bit
of powder, here and there, on her face, smiled at her reflection, and
turned away. It was race day, in Annapolis.
The Governor was ascending the stairs, as she came out of her room;
when he reached the landing, he stopped and looked at her. She made him
a bit of a curtsy.
"Will I do?" she asked.
"Yes, you will do," he said; "even I can see that. I am sorry for the
macaronies down in front."
"They do not deserve any sympathy."
"I suppose not," he said; "at least, they do not get much from you. You
may take the coach; I shall ride to the course--and do not wait for me.
They are sufficient to escort you."
She gave him a bright smile, and went down and out to the coach.
"Good afternoon!" she said, as they sprang forward to meet her.--"No;
we will dispense with anything but a bow." They all tried to hand her
in, but she waved them aside. "I cannot choose, so I will let the
footman do his office."
The young men leaped to horse. There were but two windows to the coach
and three men, and Mr. Paca and Mr. Worthington got the places beside
them, leaving Captain Herford to ride behind, and sulk.
"You are a dream, a perfect vision!" said Mr. Paca.
"An angel, rather!" Mr. Worthington assured her.
"Why not be sensible, and tell the truth. Why not say, I am looking
very well, to-day; that would be the truth, more than that is rank
exaggeration. One of you let Captain Herford come up; I want to hear
what he will say.... Do you hear? I said, one of you give place to
Captain Herford."
"Paca, you hear?" said Worthington.
"Worthington, you hear?" said Paca.
Miss Stirling laughed. "Meanwhile, Captain Herford rides behind."
"And is likely to ride behind to the race ground," said Worthington.
"And should ride behind forever, if we controlled it," added Mr. Paca.
They proceeded out of the Governor's grounds, and along King George
Street, to the Ogle corner at Tabernacle Street. Here, the coach was
before the door, and Mrs. Ogle and Miss Elizabeth were just about to
enter. Miss Stirling waved her hand, and called a greeting, while
the young men doffed their hats. The Ogles answered, and then their
equipage joined the procession.
Arrived at the Course, and occupying the place reserved for the
Governor, Miss Stirling was astonished at what she saw. Here was no
ordinary gathering, of Annapolitans and their neighbors. Instead, a
vast concourse of people, with more than fifteen hundred horses hitched
around the track, and not less than one hundred coaches parked within
the enclosure.
"Why," she said, "I had no notion it was anything such as this. I
thought it would be like the small affairs in England. This rivals
Carlisle, itself."
"The Annapolis races are the best in this country," said Mr.
Worthington. "We have not only all the families of Maryland represented
here, but scores of the gentlemen of Virginia, with not a few from
Pennsylvania. The races last almost a week. Courts are adjourned,
schools dismissed--everybody takes a holiday; and the Assembly, which
happens to be in session, has risen until they are over."
"What are the entries for the first race?" she asked.
Mr. Paca consulted his card. "Dr. Hammond's _Figaro_, Mr. Hall's
_Trial_, Mr. Yeldell's _Chester_, Mr. Gnatt's _Britannia_, Mr. Heath's
_Merry Andrew_ and Major Sims' _Terror_."
"And what are the weights?"
"Rising four years, fourteen hands, eight stone; five years, nine
stone; six years, ten stone, and aged, eleven stone; to give and take,
at the rate of seven pounds, for every one under or above fourteen
hands."
"Is fourteen hands the average size?" she asked. "Rather small, it
seems to me."
"They make it up in speed, however," said Mr. Worthington; "and Figaro
is fifteen hands. He has run at Carlisle and at Preston, in your
country, and won everything. In fact, he has never been beaten."
A roar from the crowd announced the appearance of the horses. "What is
the black?" she asked.
"Trial."
"And the chestnut?"
"Chester."
"And the sorrel?"
"Merry Andrew."
"And the bay?"
"Figaro."
She took six pistoles, from her reticule.
"Captain Herford, will you do me the favor to place this on
Figaro?--What are the odds?"
"Three to one, last night, at the Coffee-house."
"Very good," she said. "A horse that won at Carlisle and Preston ought
not to have much trouble, here. What is the distance?"
"Four times around the track, about three miles," said Mr. Paca; "the
best two in three."
Old Jonas Green had taken his place in the judge's stand, and the
horses were forming for the break. The next moment, they thundered down
the track, got the word, and were away. A blanket could have covered
them, as they swept around the course for the first two times. Then,
Terror slowly lagged; and, presently, Merry Andrew and Britannia had
followed suit. The other three were running neck to neck. At the turn
into the stretch, Chester drew away, and won by length from Figaro,
with Trial third.
Instantly there was a turmoil. Chester was a good horse, and the
weights were in his favor, but no one had supposed him capable of
besting Figaro.
"Had I waited, I would have gotten longer odds," said Miss Stirling.
"Mr. Paca, see if you can put these five pistoles to better
advantage--on Figaro, mind you."
"I think Figaro will win," said Mr. Worthington. "He has the bottom,
and his age will favor him."
Mr. Paca returned to announce that he had placed the money at two to
one, and received, in exchange, a most dazzling smile; whereat Herford
swore under his breath. Then there descended upon them all the young
women, from the near-by coaches, and the young gentlemen who attended,
to make their devoirs to the Governor's niece.
And, presently, came Colonel Sharpe himself, and with him Sir Edward
Parkington. Pinkney had not failed the latter. His coat was of dark
blue silk with embroidered cuffs, the breeches and stockings to match;
his waistcoat, of white broadcloth, covered with gold lace. His hair
was dressed and powdered, and tied in a bagwig behind. A solitaire was
round his neck; a kevernois hat, decorated with gold buttons, lace and
loop, was under his arm; and a long black rapier lifted the skirt of
his coat.
"My dear," said Colonel Sharpe, "I want to present Sir Edward
Parkington, whom you have heard me mention, and for whom I bespeak your
best consideration."
Miss Stirling gave him her hand; Parkington bowed over it with
inimitable grace.
"Sir Edward is very lucky in his sponsor," she said; "his Excellency's
wishes are our law. Mr. Paca, will you present Sir Edward to our
friends."
He met them all, then came back to her.
"I think I saw you in the Row, one day last Autumn," he said. "You were
riding with Captain Symington, of the Blues; I was riding with my Lord
Baltimore."
She shook her head. "I have not the honor of Captain Symington's
acquaintance; it was not I."
"It may be I am mistaken as to Symington, but I cannot be mistaken as
to you; once seen is never to be forgotten."
"Are you sure it was last Autumn?" she asked.
"Perfectly, oh, perfectly!"
"Then, you must guess again," she said. "I have not ridden in the Row
for a year. I spent all of last Autumn in the North."
"But I saw you somewhere, sometime," he insisted.
"What matters it?" she asked; "since you see me now.--There, the second
heat is starting!"
This time there were but three--Britannia, Merry Andrew and Terror had
been distanced--and, again, the three ran close together until they
reached the stretch, for the last time. Then Trial came away, and,
under a tremendous drive, won by length from Figaro, with Chester third.
"The favorite seems outclassed," said Parkington. "The weight is just a
trifle too much, I fancy."
"You do not know Figaro," said Mr. Paca. "I will wager you five
pistoles, that he gets the next heat."
"Taken. The weight will tell more upon him the next time."
"Again, you do not know Figaro!" laughed Paca. "It will tell less--or,
rather, it will tell on the others more. Figaro has lost two heats,
before, but he never lost the third."
"Mr. Paca says that Figaro has raced in England, at Carlisle and
Preston three years ago, and won everything," said Miss Stirling. "Did
you know it?"
"Great Heavens!" exclaimed Parkington. "This is not _that_ Figaro?"
"The same," said Mr. Paca.
"I would never have wagered against him, had I known it. However, there
is always a chance of the horse falling dead in the stretch, or of
something else happening; and past records never win the next race."
"I will lay you another five pistoles, if you wish," offered Mr.
Worthington.
"And I!--And I!" came from around him.
"Such unanimity of opinion breeds caution," said Parkington, with a
laugh; "and I will profit by it. No more, gentlemen, no more."
"Captain Herford," said Miss Stirling, "I will have another little bet
on Figaro. Will you place these two pistoles for me?"
"At what odds?" said Herford.
"Whatever you can get; they ought to be about even, now."
"You too, then, believe in Figaro?" asked Parkington.
"I do," she said; "six pistoles at three to one, five pistoles at two
to one, and two pistoles at even odds--it will keep me in spending
money for a few weeks."
"Or make you without spending money for a month."
"I shall not lose," she said; "I shall not lose.... Ah, Mr. Maynadier,
do you know Sir Edward Parkington?"
Maynadier turned, and, for a moment his eyes rested on Sir Edward with
an uncertain and hesitating recognition. Then, he shook his head.
"I do not know," he said. "There is something familiar in his face, yet
I can not say. I met so many people in London, at one time, that it is
difficult to remember. I trust Sir Edward Parkington will understand.
But whether or not we have ever met before, I am very glad to meet him
now."
"I think you are right," said Sir Edward, taking Maynadier's hand; "or,
at least, if we met, I have no recollection of it. Indeed, I have no
recollection of having met any one from Annapolis--much, as I see now,
to my loss."
"The horses are at the post!" exclaimed Miss Stirling, and each was
glad for a moment of respite.
This time, Figaro showed his blood. They ran easily enough, and
together, but any one could see that the others had shot their bolts.
In the last hundred yards, the red and white of Dr. Hammond went to the
front and won handily.
"It is Figaro's race," said Mr. Paca.
"If he wins the next heat," observed Sir Edward.
"The others are out of it," said Paca. "I am sorry, Sir Edward, but
they are, and Figaro will get better; we have seen it happen before, in
other races."
And Mr. Paca was right. Figaro won the next heat even easier than the
last, and Dr. Hammond led him off, while the men cheered, and the
ladies waved their handkerchiefs.
"Will you ride back with us?" Miss Stirling asked, as Maynadier made
his adieu.
"And have myself put down as rival to these young men," he said, with a
smile.
"What do you care, since you are not."
"True enough, but the public would not believe it."
"The public believes what suits it."
"Just so, but it does not suit me that the public should have any cause
to believe me smitten."
"You care for the public?" she said.
"Yes and no. No, where there is truth behind it; yes, when it is
foundationless."
"You are frank," she said.
"Such was our compact."
"And is it, then, so great a disgrace to have it said you rode beside
my carriage?"
"If they would stop with that, no; but they will not. I will ride
beside your carriage any time, when you are alone; I will not jostle
for a place with any one."
"Then you will never ride, I fear."
"I know it; I shall never ride."
She looked at him with an artless smile, that was the refinement of
coquetry.
"I shall see you at the dance, to-night?" she asked.
"I shall be there."
"I have saved the third for you. You do not deserve it, but I saved it,
none the less."
He bowed low. "Only the third?"
"Only the third," she said, as the coach rolled away.
"And what have you saved for me?" said Parkington, who overheard the
last words.
"Whatever you like," she answered, "except the third."
"Then I take as many as I may; I want them all."
"You are modest," she said.
"You are the first that ever told me so."
"And am likely to be the last," she retorted.
"You said that you would give no dances before the ball," Captain
Herford interposed.
"I did," she admitted; "but, then, I did not know of our guest from
England. The dance I have given Mr. Maynadier, you may charge up to
the right that every woman has to change her mind."
He leaned down to the carriage door. "Change your mind for me," he said.
She appeared to ponder, as though undecided.
"Just one," he pleaded, "just one!"
"Just one, then," she said, with a captivating smile.
She turned to Parkington, who rode on the other side of the coach; as a
guest, of course, he had the place without a struggle.
"How long are you from London?" she asked.
"Ten weeks."
"Who came out with you--any one of prominence?"
"No; mainly shop-keepers and the like--a most uninteresting lot."
"You must have had a pleasant ten weeks!" she laughed.
"I tried to make the best of it. Some amusement is to be got of a row
of graven images, if one try hard enough; and, even a shop-keeper beats
a graven image."
"Tell me of your shipwreck," said she.
"I have forgotten," he said; "forgotten everything but the salt
water--I swallowed so much, I can taste it still."
"It shall be the business of Annapolis to obliterate the taste."
"It is obliterated, now," he said, bending down. "Henceforth,
Annapolis follows after London, with nothing whatever between--and you
are Annapolis."
"Oh, no! I am not. I have nothing to do with Annapolis, other than as a
guest."
"That should make you kind to the stranger."
"If the stranger be kind to me," she said, archly; then, before he
could make answer, added: "Take supper with us, this evening. You can
retire in time to change your clothes for the Ball."
"Gladly," he exclaimed, "gladly! Though, as to clothes, this suit will
have to pass; Pinkney can get me no more for a day or two. Even this
was a great favor."
"You should hope, sir, that the rest will be as becoming," she
murmured, as the coach drew up.
"Good-bye," she said, waving her fan to Mr. Paca and Captain Herford
and Mr. Worthington; "I will see you at the Ball, to-night."
And, giving Sir Edward her hand, they went up the steps, and into the
mansion.
IV
THE MARBURYS
Sir Edward Parkington slept late, the following morning. When he awoke,
the sun was high above the Severn, and busy Annapolis was well into
another day.
For a while, he lay and watched the golden light as it flickered
through the leaves, now here, now there, frisking about on the carpet
like a sprite.
"Well, Sir Edward, you are enjoying yourself," he said, with a bit of
a smile. "You danced every dance, and you went in to supper with Miss
Stirling. Every one, from the Governor down, did his best to entertain
you, except that fool Herford, and he is jealous. I compliment you,
sir, upon the favorable impression you have made.... But, where the
devil, have I seen that fellow Maynadier, before? Somewhere, I am
perfectly sure, but where?--where? And I cannot make out whether he
recognized only something familiar about me, or whether he did not
recognize me at all. At any rate, I hope it was the latter. Herford
is one with whom I would best be careful--not for what he knows, but
on general principles. He is in love with Miss Stirling, and cannot
see she does not care a rap for him. With Maynadier, it is a casual
interest, nothing more. He would not cross the street to make sure
of her. And, even if he knew I was a masquerader, I question whether
he would do more than to warn me out of Maryland. With Herford, it
is very different; he would proclaim me, from the State House, as an
impostor and a thief--and all because of Mistress Martha Stirling!
Well, for that I cannot blame him. She is marvelously pretty, and an
arrant flirt. She cares no more for me than she does for Herford;
but I can see it, and he cannot. The girl annoys me, too, with her
self-complacency; she is so frank withal, and yet so alluring. I do
not wonder that she has all the young men, of the town, bound to her
chariot's wheels. She has started to bind me.--Good, we shall see who
is bound, when the binding cease."
He stretched, and yawned; then arose, dressed himself, and went down to
the Coffee-house for breakfast.
"It's a fine day, sir," said Sparrow, as he took his order.
"Now that you draw my attention to it, I observe that it is a very fine
day." Then he laughed. "Sparrow, why is it that every innkeeper says
the same thing to a guest--a fine day or a nasty day, as the case may
be? It is neither informing nor original. Why, the devil, do you not
get a new greeting?"
"I don't know, sir--I don't know. It is easy to say, and does not give
offense. You are the first, begging your pardon, sir, who ever found
fault with it. I used the same in London."
"You come from London?" said Sir Edward, carelessly.
"Three years ago, on Saint Jamina's day last past. I remember I waited
on you one night at the Golden Lion."
"Your memory is better than mine," looking at him more closely.
"Like enough--like enough, sir. It is much more natural that I should
remember. I dare say, you did not so much as look at me."
Parkington shook his head.
"Who else was in the party?" he said.
"I did not know any of them, sir, you or any of the others. But I knew
your face the moment I clapped eyes on it, last evening."
"Oh, I see," breathing easy, again.
His breakfast finished, Sir Edward paid his score, and was escorted to
the door by Sparrow, who bowed him out.
For a little while, he watched the people, the tradesmen, mechanics and
shopkeepers, who made Church Street and the dock below it the busiest
place in America.
This was the business section. All trade was confined within its
limits. There was no trespassing on Prince George Street, or King
George, or Tabernacle, or Duke of Gloucester, or Charles, or North-East
Streets; they were reserved for the aristocracy. The land along them
belonged to the Bordleys, the Collohans, the Ogles, and the Lloyds,
the Pacas, the Brices and the Taskers, the two Charles Carrolls, the
Worthingtons, the Hammonds and the Ridouts. They cared for no intrusion
on their privacy; and, on occasion of a rout or ball at their town
houses, they roped off the street in which it was located, to keep the
common people out.
Presently, Parkington sauntered up Church Street to the Circle, and,
attracted by a large placard which was posted on the church, he crossed
to read it:
It was a notice by the wardens of the parish.
"_All the laws of the Province and the English statutes relating
to religious worship, particularly Section 14, Chapter 2, of First
Elizabeth, oblige all persons not having a lawful excuse to resort
to their parish church or chapel on every Sunday, and on other days
ordained to be kept as holy days, and then and there to abide in decent
manner during the time of common prayer, preaching or other services of
God._"
"Rather unusual," said young Mr. Brice's voice, behind him.
"I never saw its like before," said Parkington. "I thought Annapolis
was a particularly religious town."
"I guess religion is all right; it is simply the observance of it that
has gone to decay. Would not you like to see our Courts in session?
Come along."
They cut through School Street and came out on the Public Circle, in
the centre of which stood the dilapidated State House.
"This building is a disgrace to the Colony," said Mr. Brice. "It is
high time we were getting another."
"We have just as bad in London," said Parkington.
They entered by a hall and went into the court room, opposite to the
door of which was the judge's seat, with the full length portrait of
Queen Anne, presenting a charter to the City, high above it. Young
Brice's father, John Brice, the Chief Justice of the Province, was
presiding, in robes of scarlet faced with black velvet, and, as they
entered, he was sentencing a man, convicted of manslaughter, to be
branded in the hand with the letter M. Immediately after, another was
called, who had been convicted of horse stealing, and sentenced to
death.
"It seems to me," said Parkington, "that there is no justice in such
punishments. There is too much difference in them."
"Horse stealing is a felony;" said Mr. Brice; "and all felonies are
punishable with death."
"I know. But why should you hang a man because he stole something? You
hang a man for murder, you hang a man for theft; surely, the two crimes
do not justify the same punishment."