Good Lady Margaret Langley had seen troublous days, and was well
fitted by a strong understanding to deal with them; but one of the
advantages of misfortune, if I may use so strange a phrase, is, that
experience of danger suggests precautions which long prosperity knows
not how to take, even in the moment of the greatest need. As soon as
she had left the Earl of Beverley, instead of going direct to the part
of the house where she heard the voices of her unwished-for visiters,
she directed her steps through sundry long and intricate passages,
which ultimately led her to a small door communicating with the
garden, smiling as she did so at distinguishing the fierce growl of
her good dog Basto in the hall, and the querulous tone of an old man
calling loudly for some one to remove the hound, showing apparently
that some visiting justice was kept at bay by that good sentinel.
Passing through the garden and round by the path across the lawn, Lady
Margaret approached the windows of her own withdrawing-room, just as a
party, consisting of five militia-men with the parliamentary justice
of Beverley, entered the chamber in haste; and she heard the justice
demand in a sharp tone, addressing Miss Walton and Arrah Neil--
"Who are you, young women? What are your names?"
The old lady hurried in, to stop anything like an imprudent reply; but
she had the satisfaction of hearing her niece answer--
"Nay, sir; methinks it is for us to ask who are you, and what brings
you hither in such rude and intrusive guise."
"Well said, my sweet Annie!" thought Lady Margaret; but entering
quickly she presented herself before the justice, whom she knew,
exclaiming--
"Ha, Master Shortcoat! good morning to you. What brings you hither?
and who are these men in buff and bandolier? I am not fond of seeing
such in my house. We had trouble enough with them or their like, a few
nights ago."
"Ay, lady, that is what brings us," replied the justice. "I have
orders from Hull to inquire into that affair, and to search your house
for the bloody-minded malignants here concealed, who slaughtered like
lambs a number of godly men even within sight of your door, and then
took refuge in Langley Hall. I must search, lady--I must search."
"Search, if you will, from the cellars to the garret," replied Lady
Margaret; "but the story told me by those who did take refuge here was
very different, Master Shortcoat. They said that, peaceably passing
along the country, they were attacked by a body of bloody-minded
factious villains, who slaughtered some of them, and drove the rest in
here, where finding some of their companions waiting for them, they
issued forth again to punish the knaves who had assailed them."
"It's all a lie, good woman!" exclaimed an officer of militia. "But
who are these girls? for there was a woman amongst them."
"You are a rude companion, sirrah!" answered Lady Margaret. "These
ladies are of my own family--this one my niece, Mistress Anne Walton;
and this my cousin, Mistress Arabella Langley."
"Come, come," said another, interposing; "we are wasting time, while
perhaps those we seek may be escaping. It is not women we want, but
men. Search the house, Master Justice, with all speed. I will go one
way with two or three of the men--go you another with the rest."
"Stay, stay!" said Justice Shortcoat; "you are too quick: we cannot
make due inquest if you interrupt us so. Lady, I require to know who
were the persons in your house who went forth to assist the malignants
on the night of Wednesday last."
"Why, I have told you already, Master Shortcoat. You must be hard of
hearing. Did I not say they were friends of theirs who were waiting
here for them? In these times, when subjects are governors and
servants masters, how can I keep out any one who chooses to come in?
That very night one of the men swam the moat, and let down the
drawbridge for himself. How am I to stop such things? If I could, I
would keep every party out that appeared with more than two, be they
who they might. I seek but to live a peaceable life; but you, and
others like you, break in at all hours, disturbing my quiet. Out upon
you all! Search, search where you will! You can find nothing here but
myself and my own people."
"Well, we will search, lady," replied the officer of militia who had
spoken before. "Come, worshipful Master Shortcoat--let us not waste
more time;" and seizing him by the arm, he dragged rather than led him
away.
The moment he was gone, Lady Margaret whispered in Annie Walton's ear,
"Quick, Annie! run to the room where all the maidens sit, and tell
them, if asked what mean the clothes in the earl's chamber and the
blood upon them, to say that they are those of one who was killed the
other night, and that the body was carried away by his comrades. I
will go to the men's hall and to the kitchen, and do the same. You
hear, sweet Arrah? such must be our tale;" and away the old lady went.
But she found the task of communicating this hint somewhat more
difficult than she had expected, for the hall was half full of the
parliamentary militia, and she had to send her servants to different
parts of the house, one upon one pretence, and another upon another,
before she could find the opportunity of speaking with them in
private.
In the mean while she heard with a smile the feet of the justice and
his companions running through all the rooms and passages of this
wide, rambling pile of building, except those which, separated from
the rest by stone partitions, and forming a sort of house within the
house, could only be discovered either by one already acquainted with
some of the several entrances, or by the line and rule of the
architect. She had just done instructing her servants, not having
omitted, as she thought, one of the household, when feet were heard
descending the principal stairs, and the perquisitions were commenced
in that wing of the hall in which the room inhabited by the Earl of
Beverley was situated.
In a few minutes the justice and one of the militia-men returned,
carrying a cloak and a heavy riding-boot, and demanding with a
triumphant laugh, "Where is he to whom these belong?"
"In the grave, probably," replied Lady Margaret, with perfect
composure. "If you are authorized to take possession of dead men's
property, you may keep them; and indeed you have a better right to
them than I have, for your people shot him, so that you have only to
divide the spoil."
"Do you mean to say, Lady Margaret, that the man is dead?" asked
Justice Shortcoat, with a look of some surprise and consternation.
"All the better if he be," exclaimed the officer of militia; "'tis but
one malignant the less in the world. But let us hear more, worshipful
Master Shortcoat. I don't believe this story. Let us have in the
servants one by one----"
"Ay, one by one," said the justice, who was one of the men who
may be called Echoes, and who repeat other men's ideas in a very
self-satisfied tone. "You see about it, sir, and ensure that there be
no collusion."
The whole matter was soon arranged; and Lady Margaret, taking her
wonted chair, drew an embroidery-frame towards her, through which she
passed the needle to and fro with the utmost calmness, while sweet
Annie Walton sat with a beating heart beside Arrah Neil, who, with the
tranquil fortitude that had now come over her, watched the proceedings
of the intruders as if she had been a mere spectator. The magistrate
placed himself pompously at the table in the midst; the officer, who
had now been joined by two companions with various other articles from
the earl's chamber, stood at Master Shortcoat's right hand to prompt
him; and then the servants were called in singly, and asked to whom
the clothes belonged which had been found.
"To the gentleman who was killed," replied the man, William, who was
first examined.
"And where is the corpse?" demanded the officer of militia.
"I do not know," replied the servant; "they took it away with them."
"Was he killed at once, or did he die here?" asked the officer
"He lingered a little, I believe," answered William.
The justice looked at the officer, and the latter said, "You may go;
see him through the hall, Watson."
Another and another servant was called, and all gave the same answers
till they came to the maids, who had not been so well or fully
instructed by fair Annie Walton as the men had been by her aunt. Their
first reply, indeed, was the same--that he was dead; but when they
were interrogated as to the time of his death, they hesitated and
stumbled a little; but they were generally girls of good sense, and
contrived to get out of the scrape by saying that they did not know,
as they had not seen him till he was dead; and all agreed that the
corpse had been taken away.
At length, however, at the last, appeared the scullion; and Lady
Margaret's face for the first time showed some anxiety, as the girl
had not been in the kitchen when she visited it, and, to say truth,
had been hearing some sweet words from a soldier in the court. When
the usual first question was asked her, namely, whom the clothes
belonged to, she replied--
"To the gentleman who was brought in wounded."
"And who died shortly after," said Lady Margaret, fixing her eyes upon
her.
"Do not venture to prompt her, lady," said the officer, turning
sternly towards her. "Speak, girl, and tell truth. Did he die?"
"I never heard as he died," answered the scullion.
"Do you know where he is now?" asked the justice.
"No, that I don't," replied the girl. "I have not seen him to-day."
Both judge and officer gazed at her with a frowning brow, and
demanded, one after the other--
"Did you see him yesterday?"
Poor Annie Walton's heart fluttered as if it would have broken through
her side; but the girl, after a moment's consideration, replied,
somewhat confusedly--
"I don't know as I did."
"Then, when did you see him last?" inquired the militia-man.
"I can't tell," answered the scullion. "I don't justly know. I saw him
the night he was brought in, for the men laid him down on the floor
there, and I saw him through the door chink, just where Basto is
lying."
She pointed to the dog as she spoke, and he, with whom she was by no
means a favourite, started up with a sharp growl and rushed towards
her. He was checked by his mistress's voice, however; but the girl,
uttering a terrified shriek, ran out of the room, and the officers
with the justice laid their heads together over the table, conversing
for some minutes in a low tone.
At length the worshipful magistrate raised his eyes, and turning to
Lady Margaret he said--
"Madam, it is clear that this is a very dark and mysterious affair;
and any one can see with half an eye that you have given shelter and
comfort to notorious malignants. It is, therefore, my unpleasant duty
to quarter upon you a guard of twenty men, under this worshipful
gentleman, who will take what means he may think proper for
discovering the dark practices which clearly have occurred here."
"In this dark clear case, sir," replied Lady Margaret, with a stiff
and haughty air, "will it not be better to furnish them with a general
warrant? Its having been pronounced illegal will be no obstacle with
those who set all law at defiance. As to quartering those men upon a
widow lady, I care little about it, so that I do not see them. Keep
them away from the apartments of my family, and you may put them where
you like. If they come near me, I will drive them forth with that
feather broom. Away with you all, and keep out of my sight,
wheresoever you bestow yourselves. Or do you intend to spoil the
Egyptians, and take my beef and beer, or my goods and chattels?"
"Though you are uncivil to us, lady," said the officer, who, perhaps,
thought that the comfort of his quarters might depend upon fair words,
"we do not intend to be uncivil to you. We will give you no trouble so
long as you and your people comport yourselves properly; and in the
trust that you will do so, I shall now retire, and fix the rooms for
my men as I shall judge expedient, of course not interfering with your
accommodation. Come, Master Shortcoat."
"Stay, sir!" said Lady Margaret. "You speak well. Perhaps I was too
warm; but all these intrusions into a peaceable household do heat one.
I will see that you have all that you want and can desire; I wish to
show you no inhospitality," and she bowed with graceful dignity as the
Roundhead party retired.