When Wilton Brown reached the house of the Earl of Byerdale, he found
that nobleman, the Duke of Gaveston, and Lord Sherbrooke, sitting
together in the most amicable manner that it is possible to conceive.
The countenance of the Duke was certainly very much distressed and
agitated; but making allowance for the different characters of the
two men, Lord Byerdale himself did not seem to be less distressed.
Lord Sherbrooke, too, was looking very grave, and was thoughtfully
scribbling unmeaning lines with a pen and ink on some quires of paper
before him.
"Oh, Mr. Brown, I am very glad to see you," exclaimed the Duke.
"My dear Wilton," said the Earl, addressing him by a title which he
had never given him in his life before, "we are particularly in need
of your advice and assistance. I know not whether Sherbrooke, in his
note, told you the event that has occurred."
"He did so, to my great grief and surprise, my lord," replied Wilton.
"How I can be of any assistance I do not know; but I need not say
that I will do anything on earth that I can to aid my lord duke and
your lordship."
"The truth is," replied Lord Byerdale, "that I am as greatly
concerned as his grace: it having happened most unfortunately, this
very morning--I am sorry, through Sherbrooke's own fault--that Lady
Laura found herself compelled to break off the proposed alliance
between our two families, which was one of my brightest day-dreams.
The Duke knows well, indeed, that however high I may consider the
honour which I had at one time in prospect, I am perfectly incapable
of taking any unjustifiable means, especially of such a rash and
desperate nature, to secure even an alliance such as his. But other
people--the slanderous world at large--may insinuate that I have had
some share in this business; and therefore it is absolutely necessary
for me to use every exertion for the purpose of discovering whither
the young lady has been carried. At the same time, the circumstances
in which we are placed must, in a great degree, prevent Sherbrooke
from taking that active part in the business which I know he could
wish to do, and I therefore must cast the burden upon you, of aiding
the Duke, on my part, with every exertion to trace out the whole of
this mysterious business, and, if possible, to restore the young lady
to her father."
The Earl spoke rapidly and eagerly, as if he feared to be
interrupted, and wished, in the first instance, to give the matter
that turn which seemed best to him.
"I am very anxious, too, Mr. Brown," said the Duke, "to have your
assistance in this matter, for I am sure, you well know I place great
confidence in you."
Wilton bowed his head, not exactly perceiving the cause of this great
confidence at the moment, but still well pleased that it should be
so.
"May I ask," he said, in as calm a voice as he could command, for his
own heart was too much interested in the subject to suffer him to
speak altogether tranquilly--"may I ask what are the particulars of
this terrible affair, for Lord Sherbrooke's note was very brief? He
merely told me the Lady Laura had disappeared; but he told me not
where she had last been seen."
"She was last seen walking on the terrace in the garden," said the
Duke, "just as it was becoming dusk. The afternoon was cold, and I
thought of sending for her; but she had been a good deal agitated and
anxious during the day, and I did not much like to disturb her
thoughts."
"On which terrace?" demanded Wilton, eagerly.
"On the low terrace near the water," replied the Duke.
"Good God!" exclaimed Wilton, clasping his hands, "can she have
fallen into the river?" and the horrible image presented to his mind
made his cheek turn as pale as ashes. In a moment after, however, it
became red again, for he marked the eye of the Earl upon him, while
the slightest possible smile crept round the corners of that
nobleman's mouth.
"My apprehensions, at first, were the same as yours, my young
friend," replied the Duke. "I was busy with other things, when one of
the servants came to tell me that they thought they had heard a
scream, and that their young lady was not upon the terrace, though
she had not returned to the house. We went down instantly with
lights, for it was now dark; and my apprehensions of one terrible
kind were instantly changed into others, by finding the large
footmarks of men in the gravel, part of which was beaten up, as if
there had been a struggle. The footsteps, also, could be traced down
the stone steps of the landing-place, where my own barge lies, and
there was evidently the mark of a foot, loaded with gravel, on the
gunwale of the boat itself, showing that somebody had stepped upon it
to get into another boat."
This intelligence greatly relieved the mind of Wilton; and at the
same time, Lord Sherbrooke, who had not yet spoken a word, looked up,
saying, "The Duke thinks, Wilton, that it will be better for you to
go home with him, and endeavour to trace this business out from the
spot itself. One of the messengers will be sent to you immediately
with a warrant, under my father's hand, [Footnote: It may be as well
to remark here, that much of the business which is now entirely
entrusted to police magistrates was then carried on by the
secretaries of state and high official persons; and a "secretary's
warrant" was an instrument of very dangerous and extensive power.] to
assist you in apprehending any of the participators in this business.
Do you think anything can be done to-night?"
Wilton was accustomed to read his friend's countenance with some
attention, and, from his whole tone and manner, he gathered that Lord
Sherbrooke was somewhat anxious to bring the conference to an end.
"Perhaps something may be done to-night," he replied, "especially if
no inquiry has yet been made amongst the watermen upon the river."
"None," replied the Duke, "none! To say the truth, I was so
confounded and confused, that I came away here instantly--for advice
and assistance," he added; but there was a pause between the words,
which left his real views somewhat doubtful. The rest of the business
was speedily arranged. The Duke's coach was at the door, and Wilton
proceeded into the Earl's library to write a note to his own servant,
containing various directions. He was followed in a minute or two by
Lord Sherbrooke, who seemed looking for something in haste.
"Where are the blank warrants, Wilton?" he said: "my father will sign
one at once."
As he spoke, however, he bent down his head over Wilton's shoulder,
and then added, "Get away as fast as you can, or you will betray
yourself to the keen eyes that are upon you. Go with the Duke,
rescue the girl, and the game is before you. I, too, will exert
myself to find her, but with different views, and you shall have the
benefit of it."
"Sherbrooke, Sherbrooke," said Wilton, "what madness is it that you
would put into my head?"
"It is in your heart already, Wilton," replied Lord Sherbrooke. "But
after all, it is no madness, Wilton; for I have this very night heard
my father acknowledge to the Duke that he knows who you really are;
that the blood in your veins is as good as that of any one in the
kingdom; and that your family is more ancient than that of the Duke
himself, only that on account of some of the late troubles and
changes it has been judged necessary to keep you, for a time, in the
shade. Thus, you see, it is no madness--Nay, nay, collect your
thoughts, Wilton.--Where are these cursed warrants? I say the game
is before you.--There is my father's voice calling. He has an
intuitive perception that I am spoiling his plans. Look to Sir John
Fenwick, Wilton--look to Sir John Fenwick. I suspect him strongly.
Hark how that patient and dignified father of mine is making the bell
of the saloon knock its head against the wall! By heavens, there's
his step! Fold up your note quickly! Where can these cursed warrants
be?--My lord," he continued, turning to his father, who entered at
that moment, "before you sent me for the warrants, you should have
given me a warrant to discover and take them up, for I can neither do
one nor the other."
The warrants were soon found, however; the Earl signed one and filled
up the blanks; one of the ordinary Messengers of State was sent for,
in order to follow Wilton and the Duke as soon as possible; and the
young gentleman, taking his place in the carriage, was soon upon the
way to Beaufort House, conversing over the events that had occurred.
What between agitation, grief, and apprehension, the Duke was all
kindness and condescension towards his young companion. He seemed,
indeed, to cast himself entirely upon Wilton for support and
assistance; and it speedily became apparent that his suspicions also
pointed in the direction of Sir John Fenwick, and the rash and
violent men with whom he was engaged.
"I could explain myself on this subject," said the Duke, "to no one but
you, my dear young friend, as you are the only person acquainted with
the fact of my having been at that unfortunate meeting, except, indeed,
the people themselves. Of course I could not say a word upon the subject
to Lord Byerdale or Lord Sherbrooke; but in you I can confide, and on
your judgment and activity I rely entirely for the recovery of my poor
girl."
"I will do my best, my lord," replied Wilton, "and trust I shall be
successful. Perhaps I may have more cause for anticipating a fortunate
result than even your grace, as I have means of instantly ascertaining
whether the persons to whom you have alluded have any share in this
matter or not; means which I must beg leave to keep secret, but which I
shall not fail to employ at once."
"Oh, I was sure," replied the Duke, "that if there was a man in England
could do it, you would be the person. I know your activity and your
courage too well, not to have every confidence in you."
The coachman had received orders to drive quick; and the hour of nine
was just striking on the bell of an old clock at Chelsea when the
carriage drove into the court-yard. Wilton sprang out after the Duke;
but he did not enter the house.
"I will but go to make some inquiries," he said, "and join your grace in
half an hour. I may learn something to-night, and under these
circumstances it is right to lose no time. I should be well pleased,
however, to have a cloak, if one of your grace's servants could bring me
either a common riding cloak or a roquelaure."
One was immediately procured; and, somewhat to the surprise and
admiration of the Duke, who was, as the reader may have perceived, one
of those people that are expressively denominated SLOW MEN, he set off
instantly to pursue his search, animated by feelings which had now
acquired even a deeper interest than ever, and by hopes of the
extraordinary circumstances in which he was placed proving the means of
attaining an object well worth the exertion of every energy and every
thought.
It was a fine frosty night, with the stars twinkling over head, but no
moon, so that his way amongst the narrow lanes which surrounded Beaufort
House at that time, was not very easily found. As he walked on, he heard
a sharp whistle before him, but it produced nothing, though he proposed
to himself to stand upon the defensive, judging from one or two little
signs and symptoms which he had seen, that the Green Dragon might
protect under the shadow of its wings many persons of a far more fierce
and dangerous description than it had itself proved, either as an
adversary of St. George, or as an inhabitant of the marshes near
Wantley.
He walked on fast, and a glimmering light in the direction from which he
had heard the sound proceed at length led him to the hospitable door of
the Green Dragon. One sign of hospitality, indeed, it wanted. It stood
not open for the entrance of every one who sought admission; and a
precautionary minute or two was suffered to pass before Wilton obtained
one glance of the interior.
At length, however, a small iron bolt, which prevented any impertinent
intrusion into the penetralia of the Green Dragon, was drawn back, and
the lusty form of the landlord made its appearance in the passage. He
instantly recognised Wilton, whose person, indeed, was not very easily
forgotten; and laying his finger on the side of his nose, with a look of
much sagacity, he led Wilton into a little room which seemed to be his
own peculiar abode.
"The Colonel is out, sir," he said, as soon as the door was closed;
"and there are things going on I do not much like."
Wilton's mind, full of the thought of Lady Laura, instantly connected
the landlord's words with the fact of her disappearance, but refrained
from asking any direct question regarding the lady. "Indeed, landlord,"
he said, "I am sorry to hear that. What has happened?"
"Why, sir," answered the landlord, "nothing particular; but only I wish
the Colonel was here--that is all. I do not like to see tampering with a
gentleman's friends. You understand, sir--I wish the Colonel was here."
"But, landlord," said Wilton, "can he not be found? I wish he were here,
too, and if you know where he is, I might seek him. I have something
important to say to him."
"Bless you, sir," replied the landlord, "he's half-way to Rochester by
this time. He went well nigh two hours ago, and he is not a man to lose
time by the way. You'll not see him before to-morrow night, and then,
may be, it will be too late. I'd tell you, sir, upon my life," he
continued, "if you could find him, for he bade me always do so; but you
will not meet with him on this side of Gravesend till to-morrow night,
when he will most likely be at the Nag's Head in St. James's Street
about the present blessed hour. I've known him a long time now, sir, and
I will say I never saw such another gentleman ON THE WAY, though there
is Mr. Byerly and many others that are all very gentlemanlike--but bless
you, sir, they do it nothing like the Colonel, so I do not wish him to
be wronged."
"Of course not," answered Wilton; "but tell me, landlord, had he heard
of this unfortunate business of the lady being carried off, before he
went?"
"Lord bless you, no, sir," replied the man--"I only heard of it myself
an hour ago. But one of our people was talking with a waterman just
above there, and he said that there was a covered barge--like a
gentleman's barge--came down at a great rate, about six o'clock; and he
vowed that he heard somebody moaning and crying in it; but likely that
is not true, for he never said a word till after he heard of the Duke's
young lady having been whipped up."
Wilton obtained easily the name and address of the waterman, and finding
that there was no chance whatever of gaining any further intelligence of
Green, or any means of communicating with him at an earlier period than
the following night, he took his leave of the good host, and rose to
depart. The landlord, however, stopped him for a moment.
"Stay a bit, Master Brown," he said. "You see, I rather think there are
one or two gentlemen in the lane waiting just to talk a word with my
good Lord Peterborough, who is likely to pass by; and as the Colonel
told me that you were not just in that way of business yourself, you had
better take the boy with you."
"No, indeed," replied Wilton, somewhat bitterly, "I am not exactly, as
you say, in that way of business myself. I am being taught to rob on a
larger scale."
"Oh, sir!" exclaimed the landlord, not at all understanding Wilton's
allusion to his political pursuits, "all these gentlemen keep the
highway a horseback too. This foot-padding is only done just for a
bit of amusement, and because the Colonel is out of the way. He would
be very angry if he knew it.--But I did not know you were upon the
road at all, sir."
"No, no," replied Wilton, smiling, "I was only joking, my good friend.
The sort of robbery I meant was aiding kings and ministers to rob and
cheat each other."
"Ay, ay, sir!" said the landlord, now entering into his meaning, and
taking as a good joke what Wilton had really spoken in sadness--"you
should have called it miching, sir--miching on a great scale. Well,
that's worse than t'other. Give me the King's Highway, I say! only
I'm too fat and pursy now."
This said, he went and called a little boy well trained in bearing
foaming pots from place to place, who soon conducted Wilton back in
safety to the house of the Duke, and then undertook to send up the
waterman with all speed. By this time the Messenger from the Earl of
Byerdale had arrived; but although the good gentlemen called
Messengers, in those days, exercised many of the functions of a
Bow-street officer, and possessed all the keen and cunning sagacity of
that two-legged race of ferrets, neither he nor Wilton could elicit
any farther information from the waterman than that which had been
already obtained.
"I think, sir, I think, your grace," said the Messenger, bowing low
to the statesman's secretary, and still lower to the Duke, "I think
that we must give the business up for to-night, for we shall make no
more of it. To-morrow morning, as early as you please, Mr. Brown, I
shall be ready to go down the river with you, and I think we had
better have this young man's boat, as he saw the barge which he
thinks took the young lady away. Hark ye, my man," he continued,
addressing the waterman, "you've seen fifty guineas, haven't you?"
"Why, never in my own hand, your honour," replied the man, with a
grin.
"Well, then, you'll see them in your hand, and your own money too, if
by your information we find out this young lady; so go away now, and
try to discover any one of your comrades who knows something of the
matter, and come with a wherry to the Duke's stairs to-morrow morning
as soon as it is daylight."
"Ay, ay, we'll find her, sir, I'll bet something," said the man; and
with this speech, the only consolatory one which had yet been made by
any of the party, he left them. The Messenger having now done all
that he thought sufficient, retired comfortably to repose, shaking
from his mind at once all recollection of a business in which his
heart took no part. Nothing on earth marks more distinctly that the
Spirit or the Soul, with all its fine sensibilities and qualities,
both of suffering and acting, is of distinct being from the mere
Intellect, which is, in fact, but the soul's prime minister, than the
manner in which two people of equal powers of mind will act in
circumstances where the welfare of a third person, dear to the one,
and not dear to the other, is concerned. A sense of what is right,
some accidental duty, or mere common philanthropy, may often cause
the one to exert all his powers with the utmost activity to obtain
the object in view; but the moment that he has done all that seems
possible, the soul tells the mind to throw off the burden for the
time; and, casting away all thought of the matter, he lays himself
down comfortably to sleep and forgetfulness. The other, however, in
whose bosom some more deep interest exists, pursues the object also
by every means that can be suggested; but when all is done, and the
mind is wearied, the soul does not suffer the intellect to repose,
but, still engaged in the pursuit, calls the mind to labour with
anxious thought, even though that thought may be employed in vain.
For some hours after the Messenger was sound asleep, and had
forgotten the whole transaction in the arms of slumber, Wilton sat
conversing with the Duke, and endeavouring to draw from him even the
smallest particulars of all that had taken place during the last few
days, with the hope of discovering some probable cause for the event.
The Duke, however, though disposed to be communicative towards Wilton
on most subjects, showed a shyness of approaching anything connected
with the meeting in Leadenhall-street.
It was evident, indeed, that all his suspicions turned upon Sir John
Fenwick, and he admitted that a violent quarrel had occurred after
the meeting; but he showed so evident an inclination to avoid
entering into the subject farther, that Wilton in common delicacy
could not press him. Finding it in vain to seek any more information
in that quarter, Wilton at length retired to rest, but sleep came not
near his eyelids. He now lay revolving all that had occurred,
endeavouring to extract from the little that was really known some
light, however faint, to lead to farther discovery. In the darkness
of the night, imagination, too, came in, and pictured a thousand
vague but horrible probabilities regarding the fate of the beautiful
girl with whom he had so lately walked in sweet companionship on the
very terrace from which it appeared that she had been violently taken
away. Fancy had wide range to roam, both in regard to the objects of
those who had carried her off, to the place whither they had borne
her, and to the probability of ever recovering her or not. But Fancy
stopped not there--she suggested doubts to Wilton's mind as to the
fact of her having been carried off at all. The terrible apprehension
that she might, by some accident, have fallen into the river returned
upon him. The feet-marks upon the gravel, he thought, might very
naturally have been produced by the servants in their first search;
and it was not at all improbable that some one of them, thinking that
his young mistress had fallen into the water, might have placed his
foot upon the gunwale of the barge to lean forward for a clearer view
of the river under the terrace.
As he thought of all these things, and tortured his heart with
apprehensions, the conviction came upon the mind of Wilton, that,
notwithstanding every difference of station, and the utter
hopelessness of love in his case, Laura had become far, far dearer to
him than any other being upon earth; had produced in his bosom
sensations such as he had never known before; sensations which were
first discovered fully in that hour of pain and anxiety, and which,
alas! promised but anguish and disappointment for the years to come.
There was, nevertheless, something fascinating in the conviction,
which, once admitted, he would not willingly have parted with; and it
gradually led his thoughts to what Lord Sherbrooke had told him
concerning his own fate and family. That information, indeed, brought
him but little hope in the present case, though we should speak
falsely were we to assert that it brought him no hope. The gleam was
faint, and doubting that it would last, he tried voluntarily to
extinguish it in his own heart. He called to mind how many there
were, whose families, engaged in the late troubles during the reigns
of Charles and James, had never been able to raise themselves again,
but had sunk into obscurity, and died in poverty and exile. He
recollected how many of them and of their children had been driven to
betake themselves to the lowest, and even the most criminal courses;
and he bethought him, that if he were the child of any of these, he
might think himself but too fortunate in having obtained an inferior
station which gave him competence at least. The cloud might never be
cleared away from his fate; and he recollected, that even if it were
so, there was but little if any chance of his obtaining, with every
advantage, that which he had learned to desire even without hope. He
knew that the Duke was a proud man, proud of his family, proud of his
wealth, proud of his daughter, proud of his rank, and that he had
judged it even a very great condescension to consent to a marriage
between his daughter and the son of the Earl of Byerdale, a nobleman
of immense wealth, vast influence, most ancient family, and one who,
from his power in the counsels of his sovereign, might, in fact, be
considered the prime minister of the day. He knew, I say, that the
Duke had considered his consent as a very great condescension; and he
had remarked that very night, that Laura's father, even in the midst
of his grief and anxiety, had made the Earl feel, by his whole tone
and manner, that in the opinion of the Duke of Gaveston there was a
vast distinction between himself and the Earl of Byerdale. What
chance was there, then, he asked himself, for one without any
advantages, even were the happiest explanation to be given to the
mystery of his own early history?
Thus passed the night, but before daylight on the following morning
he was up and dressed; and, accompanied by the Messenger, he went
down the river with two watermen; both of whom declared that they had
seen the covered barge pass down at the very hour of Lady Laura's
disappearance, and had heard sounds as if from the voice of a person
in distress.
We shall not follow Wilton minutely on his search, as not a little of
our tale remains to be told. Suffice it to say, that from Chelsea to
Woolwich he made inquiries at every wharf and stairs, examined every
boat in the least like that which had been seen, and spoke with every
waterman whom he judged likely to give information; but all in vain.
At that time almost every nobleman and gentleman in London, as well
as all merchants, who possessed any ready means of access to the
Thames, had each a private stairs down to the river, with his barge,
which was neither more nor less than a large covered boat, somewhat
resembling a Venetian gondola, but much more roomy and comfortable.
Thus the inquiries of Wilton and the Messenger occupied a
considerable space of time, and the day was far spent when they
turned again at Woolwich, and began to row up the stream. Wilton, on
his part, felt inclined to land, and, hiring a horse, to proceed to
the Duke's house with greater rapidity--but the Messenger shook his
head, saying, "No, no, sir: that wont do. We must go through the same
work all over again up the river. There's quite a different set of
people at the water-side in the morning and in the evening. We are
much more likely to hear tidings this afternoon than we were in the
early part of the day."
Wilton saw the justice of the man's remark, and acquiesced readily.
But he did so only to procure for himself, as it turned out, a bitter
and painful addition to the apprehensions which already tormented
him. In passing London bridge, one of the heavy barges used in the
conveyance of merchandise was seen moored at a little distance below
the bridge, and in the neighbourhood of the fall. A great number of
men were in her, rolling up various ropes and grappling irons, while
a personage dressed as one of the city officers appeared at their
head. Ile was directing them at the moment to unmoor the barge, and
bring her to one of the wharfs again; but the boatmen of Wilton's
boat, without any orders, immediately rowed up to the barge, and the
Messenger inquired what the officer and his comrades were about.
The officer, who seemed to know him, replied at once, "Why, Mr.
Arden, we are dragging here to see if we can get hold of the boat or
any of the bodies that went down last night."
"Ay, Smith," replied the Messenger, "what boat was that? I haven't
heard of it."
"Why, some stupid fools," replied the officer, "dropping down the
river in a barge about half-past eight last night, tried to shoot the
arch at half tide, struck the pier, got broadside on at the fall, and
of course capsized and went down. If it had been a wherry, the boat
would have floated, but being a covered barge, and all the windows
shut, she went down in a minute, and there she sticks; but we can't
well tell where, though I saw the whole thing happen with my own
eyes."
"Did you see who was in the barge?" demanded the Messenger.
"I saw there were three men in her," the officer replied, "but I
couldn't see their faces or the colour of their clothes, for it was
very dark; and if it had not been for the two great lamps at the
jeweller's on the bridge, I should not have seen so much as I did. We
are going home now, for we have not light to see; but we got up one
of the bodies, drifted down nearly half a mile on the Southwark side
there."
"Was it a man or a woman?" demanded Wilton, eagerly.
"A man, sir," replied the officer. "It turns out to be Jones, the
waterman by Fulham."
Wilton did not speak for a moment, and the Messenger was struck, and
silent likewise. When they recovered a little, however, they
explained to the officer briefly the object of their search upon the
river, and he was easily induced to continue dragging at the spot
where he thought the boat had disappeared. He was unsuccessful,
however; and, after labouring for about half an hour, the total
failure of light compelled them to desist without any farther
discovery. Wilton then landed with the Messenger; and with his brain
feeling as if on fire, and a heart wrung with grief, he rode back, as
soon as horses could be procured, to carry the sad tidings which he
had obtained to Laura's father.