there is e'en hope for me," answered Grey with his winning smile. "But
look ye here, Dicon. You have been a faithful rogue, and have served me
well, and I hope we may company together many a long day yet. But
inasmuch as there are uncertainties in life, and we are going forth into
a new world, where perchance I may sink rather than swim, I desire to
give you six months' wage in advance, whilst I have my pockets lined
with gold, so that should any untoward chance befall me, as it has
befallen better men than myself, I shall not have to turn you adrift
unrewarded, nor will you, if you can be a wise varlet, and husband your
resources, be thrown on the world without some means of support."
Dick seemed about to protest, but either the look on his master's face
or some idea which had entered his own head held him silent. He took
the coins without counting them, and producing a greasy leathern pouch,
such as sailors often carry with them, he dropped the gold pieces into
it one by one, tied it up, and fastened it safely in an inner pocket.
"That pouch stuck by me when I lost everything else in the world, and
well-nigh my own life," said the fellow with a grin. "My mother did
give it me when I first went to sea, and she told me as a wise witch
woman had given it her. She thought 'twas the caul of a child; and like
enough it be, for salt water never hurts it, and I was the only one
saved of all the crew that went down off the Spanish coast. I'd sooner
part with the gold pieces than with the pouch that holds them."
They both rode on with thoughtful faces after this brief interlude.
Grey was turning over a dozen different schemes in his mind; but all
were vague and chimerical. Now and again he looked at an amethyst ring
upon his finger, and it came over him that the shortest cut to fortune
might be to present himself as a suppliant for favour at the feet of the
great Duchess of Marlborough, who was said to rule the Queen with a rod
of iron, and whose known devotion to her husband would be certain to
raise high in her favour any person who had rendered him so timely a
service as that which Grey had been able to offer on the day of
Ramillies.
But then, again, it seemed to Grey that to claim reward for that chance
service, which had cost him nothing, was little better than playing the
beggar or the sycophant. There was in his nature a strong strain of
chivalrous romance--of love of adventure for its own sake, without
thought of reward or favour. That encounter with the great Duke, the
interview which had followed, the consciousness that he had done his
country a notable service that day--all these things were very sweet to
him, forming an episode pleasant to look back upon. If he now presented
himself on the strength of it as a petitioner for place or favour, at
once the whole thing would be vulgarized--he would be lowered in his own
estimation, sinking to the level of one of the crowd of greedy
flatterers and place-hunters who thronged the antechambers of the rich
and great, and fawned upon them for the crumbs of patronage which they
were able to dispense as the price of this homage.
Grey had seen this sort of thing at foreign courts, and his soul had
sickened at it. Doubtless, in this great world of London it was the
same. As a baronet, a young man of parts, with an attractive person,
and, at present, a well-filled purse, he might not improbably please the
fancy of the Duchess, and obtain some post in her household or about the
Court that would give him a chance at least to rise. But the more he
thought of this the less he liked the idea, and at last he flung it from
him in scorn.
"I would sooner live in Grub Street, and drive a quill!" he said half
aloud. "I could praise a hero with my pen, but I cannot fawn and
flatter with my lips. And methinks I am not fit for the life of a
place-man: I have been too long mine own master. Surely there are ways
by which a man may rise in the world without abasing himself in his own
esteem first. I will go to London, and look about me with open eyes.
There are the world of politics, the world of art and literature, and
the theatre of war, if other spheres should fail. Surely there must be
a place for me somewhere; but I will not choose the latter if I can help
it. I fear not death on mine own account; but I desire to live, and to
grow rich, that I may square matters with yonder villain, and avenge
upon him my father's untimely death!"
For that his father had been in some sort done to death by his false
kinsman, Grey did not now doubt, though whether he would be able to
bring that crime home to him later, he could not at present surmise.
Much might be possible to a man with friends in high places; but these
would have to be found and won ere any step could be taken.
Grey often felt within himself the stirrings of ambition. He had shown
promise of something akin to genius in his Oxford days, and there had
not been lacking those among his companions and tutors who had declared
that he could win fame and fortune through academic laurels. But Grey
had then turned a deaf ear to such propositions. He desired to travel
and see the world, and he had done this with much zest. But the muse
within had not been altogether silent, and he had many times covered
sheets of paper with flowing stanzas or stately sonnets, which bore
witness to the fire that burned within. His pencil, too, was not
without cunning; and his study of the treasures of many an art gallery,
many a foreign church, had given him knowledge and culture beyond what
the average gallant of the day could boast. The double strand in his
nature was very marked--a reckless love of adventure, and a delicate
appreciation of the beautiful. Often he longed after the days of the
early troubadours, when the two walked hand in hand. He pondered these
matters in his busy brain as he rode onward in the sunny brightness of
the June morning, and found it in his heart to wish that he was not thus
possessed by such conflicting passions. He felt he would have had a
better chance of success had his bent in any one direction been more
decided.
They pulled up at the quaint old inn at Edgeware, and rode into the
courtyard, where lackeys and hostlers were making merry together, and
where some handsome horses were being groomed down, prior to being put
into the cumbersome but very handsome coach that stood beneath the
protecting galleries which ran round the court. The lackeys wore a
livery of snuff-coloured cloth, with a quantity of gold lace about it.
The panels of the coach were snuff-coloured, and there was much heavy
gilding about it, which was being polished with great zeal by the
servants of the inn. It was plainly the equipage of some person of
quality, and had evidently put up there for the night, but was likely to
be wanted shortly for the road again.
Grey dismounted, and leaving Dick in charge of the horses, made his way
in through the low-browed entrance, along a sanded passage, and so to
the public room, the door of which stood open. As a boy he had known
this house, and it still seemed familiar to him, though it had changed
hands since he had been there last, and his face was not known to mine
host.
"Your pardon, sir," spoke this functionary, bustling forward on his
entrance, "but this room is bespoke for my Lord Sandford. If you are
wanting a meal, it shall be quickly served elsewhere--"
But at that moment a rollicking voice from the foot of the adjacent
staircase broke in upon the excuses of the host.
"Gadzooks, man, but it shall be nothing of the sort. Set a cover for
the gentleman at my table. Gosh! is a man so enamoured of his own
company that he must needs drive all the world away?--Come in, sir, come
in, and take pot-luck with me.--Landlord, see you give us of your best,
or I'll spit you on your own jack! I've a great thirst on me, mind you;
and let the dishes be done to a turn.--Take a seat in the window, sir;
the air blows fresh and pleasant, but it will be infernally hot ere
noon. I must be off and away in good time. In London streets you can
find shade; but these country roads--hang them all!--get like
What's-his-name's fiery furnace seven times heated if they don't chance
to run through forest land!"
The speaker was a young man of perhaps seven-and-twenty, though reckless
dissipation had traced lines in his face which should not so early have
been there. He was dressed according to the most extravagant fashion of
the day, with an immense curled wig, that hung half-way down his back; a
coat of velvet, richly laced, the sleeves so short that the spotless
lawn and ruffles of the shirt showed half-way up the forearm; a
wonderful embroidered vest, knee breeches of satin equally gorgeous, and
silk stockings elaborately gartered below the knee with bands of gold
lace. He carried a fashionably cocked hat beneath his arm, with a
gold-headed cane; and a small muff was suspended from his neck by gold
chains. The muff held a golden snuff-box, with a picture on the lid
which modesty would refuse to describe; and the young spark took snuff
and interlarded his talk with the fashionable oaths of the day as a
matter of course.
He looked curiously at Grey when they had taken their seats; for the
traveller, though dressed with exceeding simplicity, and wearing his own
hair in loose, natural curls, just framing his face and touching his
shoulders, was so evidently a man of culture and of gentle blood that
the dandy was both impressed and perplexed by him. For high-bred look
and instinctive nobility of bearing Lord Sandford could not hold a
candle to Grey Dumaresq.
"I saw you ride into the yard just now. Fine horse that of yours,
sir--very fine horse! If he's ever for sale, mind you let me know of
him. Lord Sandford--your very humble servant--always to be heard of at
Will's Coffee House or the Mohawk Club. Seem to remember your face; but
dash me if I can give it a name. Awful memory for names I have--know
too many fellows, I suppose. Not that there are so many like you,
either; but hang me, I must have met you somewhere before."
Grey had caught the fleeting memory, and answered at once,--
"We were at Oxford together, my lord. Not at the same college, though;
but we have met, doubtless. My name is Grey Dumaresq--"
"Why, to be sure. Gad! but that's strange! Thought I wasn't wrong about
a face! I heard you spout forth a poem once. Lord, it was fine, though
I didn't understand one word in ten! Latin or Greek--rabbit me if I
know which! And I knew your father, too; met him in London now and
again. He's not been seen anywhere these eight or nine months."
"My father died last Christmas," spoke Grey gravely. "I did not know it
myself, being abroad." And led on by Lord Sandford's questions, which,
if not very delicately put, showed a real interest in the subject, Grey
gave him a bare outline of his own life since quitting Oxford, and of
the position in which he now found himself.
"Oddsfish, man--as our merry monarch of happy memory used to say--but
yours is a curious tale. The ladies will rave over the romance of
it--coupled with that face of yours. Oh, never say die, man! You've the
world before you. What more do you ask than such a face, such a story,
and a few hundred pounds in your pocket? Why, with decent luck, those
hundreds ought to make thousands in a very short time. You trust
yourself to me, my young friend. I know my London. I know the ropes.
I will show you how fortunes are made in a night; and you shall be the
pet of the ladies and the envy of the beaux before another month has
passed. We will find you an heiress for a wife, and--heigh,
presto!--the thing is done."
Grey started, and made a gesture as of repulsion, whereat Lord Sandford
roared with laughter; and there was something so heartwhole and
infectious in his laugh that Grey found himself joining in almost
without knowing it. The man had a strong personality, that was not to
be doubted, and at this moment Grey felt himself singularly lonely,
singularly perplexed about his own immediate future. He did not know
London. He had scarcely set foot within its precincts, save on the
occasion when he went to bid his father farewell, and when it seemed to
him that he stepped into Pandemonium itself. Since then he had visited
many foreign capitals, and had accustomed himself to the life there to
some extent; but only to the life of a traveller--an onlooker. Now he
felt that something more lay before him--that it was as a citizen and a
unit in the great hive that he must go. And how to steer his bark
through the shoals and quicksands of the new life, he had very small
idea. To win fame and fortune was his wish; but how were these good
things to be achieved? Never had it entered his head to look upon
marriage as a way of gaining either.
"Zounds, man, don't look like that! Better men than you or I have not
been shamed to thank their wives for their promotion. But there are
more ways of killing a cat than hanging. We'll look about and see. You
put yourself in my hands, and I'll show you the ropes. No, no; no
thanks. I want some diversion myself. Poor Tom Gregory, my boon
companion, made a fool of himself over the wine the other night, and got
spitted like a cockchafer by Captain Dashwood. I've felt bad ever
since. I tried what a trip into the country would do for me. But dash
it all, I can't stand the dreariness of it. I am on my way back to town
as fast as may be. And you shall come with me. Nay, I'll take no
denial. A man must have something to do with his time, or he'll get
into a pretty peck of mischief. I've taken a liking to you; and I
always get my own way, because I won't listen to objections."
So an hour later, when the coach rumbled out from under the archway of
the old inn, Grey Dumaresq sat within by Lord Sandford's side, and Dick,
with a puzzled but satisfied face, led his master's horse behind.
*CHAPTER V.*
*A HIGH-BORN DAME.*
Westward from Whitehall, just after one had left behind the streets and
lanes of the fashionable westerly portion of London town, and emerged
into a fair region of smiling meadows, blossoming fruit-trees, orchards,
and woodlands, were in those days to be found many pleasant and stately
houses, varying in size and splendour according to the condition of the
owner, but fair mansions for the most part, and inhabited by persons of
quality, many of whom held posts at Court, and found this proximity to
Whitehall a matter of no small convenience.
Some of the fairest and seemliest of these mansions were those which lay
along the river banks, with gardens terraced to the water's edge, where
light wherries could deposit gay gallants at the foot of the steps
leading to the wide gravelled walks, and where a gay panorama of
shipping could be seen by those who paced the shady walks, or sat in the
little temples and bowers which made a feature of so many of these
gardens.
There was one house in particular that in these days had a notoriety of
its own. It had been an old manor house in the time when London had not
extended so far to the west, and it lay embosomed in a quaint old
garden, where fair and tall trees made a pleasant shade through the hot
summer days, where the turf was emerald green and soft to the foot, and
roses flourished in wild abundance. Now there was a formal Dutch garden
set in the midst of the old-time wilderness, where clipped box edges
divided the parterres of brilliant-hued blossoms sent from Holland, and
where nymphs disported themselves around marble fountains, and heathen
divinities on pedestals kept watch and ward over the long terraces which
lined the margin of the river. But in spite of these innovations of
modern taste, the silvan charm of the old garden had by no means been
destroyed, and there were many who declared that not even Hampton Court
itself could hold a candle to Lord Romaine's riverside garden for beauty
and brightness and the nameless fascination which defies analysis. Lord
Romaine was accounted a rising man. The friend of Marlborough and
Godolphin, a moderate Whig in politics, a courtier above all else, and
loyal to the backbone, he had been regarded with favour by the late
King, who had given him some appointment about the Court, which had been
confirmed by the Queen on her accession. And although Queen Anne was
herself of such strong Tory leanings, she was beginning to find that the
moderate Whigs were the men most useful and most to be depended upon;
and the shrewd Duchess Sarah--her dear "Mrs. Freeman"--herself a convert
from high Tory principles to those of their moderate opponents, was
using her influence steadily and strongly to bring the Queen round to
the same state of mind.
So Lord Romaine's star was likely to rise with the rising tide of Whig
supremacy; and as he was a man of very large private means, and kept
open house in a lavish fashion, it was likely enough that he would make
his mark in the world. It would be certainly no fault of his wife if he
did not.
Truth to tell, Lady Romaine's head had been somewhat turned when, three
years before, her husband succeeded to his father's title and estates,
and from being Viscount Latimer, with moderate means and only a measure
of Court favour to depend upon, became an earl with a very large
rent-roll, and a great fortune in ready money, which his father, who
lived a secluded existence in the country, had amassed during the later
years of his life. As Lord and Lady Latimer this couple had lived at
the riverside house they still occupied when in town; but it had not
then worn the aspect that it did to-day, albeit the garden had been
something of a hobby to its owner for many years.
The lady cared little for the garden, save for the admiration it aroused
in others; but she longed with a mighty longing to furbish up the old
house after her own design, and as soon as the funds for this were in
their hands, not a moment was lost in the carrying out of her cherished
plans and projects. With a rapidity that astonished the town, a great
new front was added to the old building, converting it into a
quadrangle, in the centre of which a great fountain threw its waters
high into the air. All the new rooms were large, stately, and imposing,
and furnished according to the latest mode. Inlaid cabinets from the
far East, crammed with curios of which my lady knew not even the names;
crooked-legged chairs and sofas of French make; furniture in the new
mahogany wood, just beginning to attract attention and admiration; rich
carpets and hangings from India, Persia, or China; embroideries from all
quarters of the globe; Italian pottery, Spanish inlaid armour, silver
trinkets from Mexico, feather work from the isles of the west--all these
things, jostled and jumbled together in rich confusion, made Lady
Romaine's new house the talk of the town; and her tall powdered lackeys
and turbaned negro pages were more numerous and more sumptuously attired
than those of any other fashionable dame of her acquaintance.
My lady was at her toilet upon this brilliant June morning; and as
custom permitted the attendance of gentlemen at this function, in the
case of married ladies, the hall and staircase leading up to her suite
of private apartments were already thronged by a motley crew.
There were dandies, fresh from their own elaborate toilets, reeking of
the perfume in which they had bathed themselves, displaying in their own
persons all the hues of the rainbow, and all the extravagant fripperies
of the day, laughing and jesting together as they mounted the
softly-carpeted stairs, their cocked hats under their arms, or descended
again after having paid their _devoirs_ to my lady, often cackling with
mirth over some _bon mot_ they had heard or uttered. There were
chattering French milliners or French hair-dressers, with boxes or
bundles of laces, silks, perfumes, or trinkets, wherewith to tempt the
fancy of their patroness. There were gaily-dressed pages running to and
fro with scented notes; turbaned negro boys carrying a lap-dog or monkey
or parrot to the doting mistress, who had suddenly sent for one of her
pets. Tire-women pushed themselves through the throng, intent on the
business of the toilet, which was such an all-absorbing matter; and the
whole house seemed to ring with the loud or shrill laughter and the
ceaseless chatter of this motley throng, bent on killing time in the
most approved fashion.
Some of the dandies about to depart, who were sipping chocolate from
cups of priceless Sevres china, and talking in their free, loose fashion
with each other, kept looking about them as though in hope or
expectation, and more than once the name of "Lady Geraldine" was bandied
about between them. One young blood asked point blank why she was never
to be seen at her mother's toilet. A laugh broke from his companions.
"If it's Lady Geraldine you come to see, you can save yourself the
trouble of the visit. They say she was brought up by a Puritan
grandmother, who died last year, and left her all her fortune. However
that may be, the Lady Geraldine never appears when she can escape doing
so. My lady gives way to her. They say she does not care to have a
grown-up daughter at her heels, she who might pass for four-and-twenty
herself any day, but for that damning evidence. But they say the father
is beginning to declare that his daughter is no longer to be kept in the
background. I suppose the next thing will be that they will marry her
to some young nobleman. Gadzooks! with that face and that fortune--if
the fortune be not a clever myth--they ought not to find it a difficult
task!"
"I heard it said at the club that Sandford was the favoured suitor for
the hand of Lady Geraldine," said one young exquisite, speaking with a
lisp and taking snuff.
There was a laugh from the group of men standing by.
"Oh, Sandford is my lady's favourite! They say he is a kinsman; and he
amuses her vastly, and gives her all the homage her heart desires. But
Lord Romaine may have something to say to that. Sandford is going the
pace that kills, and is playing old Harry with his fortune and estate.
And as for my Lady Geraldine--well, 'tis said the pretty little Puritan
will look at none of us. Split me! but it will be a pretty comedy to
watch! The awakening of Aphrodite; isn't that the thing to call it?
But Aphrodite is not generally credited with much coyness--ha, ha, ha!
Perhaps it is but a pose on the part of the pretty maid. The sweet
creatures are so artful in these days, one can never be too cautious."
And a roar of laughter answered this sally, caution being about the last
quality ever cultivated by the speaker.
Whilst all this was going on within doors, the object of these latter
remarks was enjoying a silvan solitude in the most secluded portion of
the beautiful old garden.
Far away from the house, far out of earshot of all the fashionable
clamour resounding there, set in the midst of a dense shrubbery of ilex
and yew, was an arbour--itself cut out of a giant yew-tree--commanding a
view of a portion of the river, slipping by its alder-crowned banks, and
overlooking a small, square lawn, sunk between high turf walls, in the
centre of which stood an ancient moss-grown sundial, whose
quaintly-lettered face was a source of unending interest to the fair
girl, who had made of this remote and sheltered place a harbour of
refuge for herself.
She was seated now just within the arbour, an open book of poetry upon
her knee; but she was not reading, for her chin rested in the palm of
her hand, as she leaned forward in an unstudied attitude of grace, her
elbow on her knee, her wonderful dark eyes fixed full upon the shining
river, a dreamy smile of haunting sweetness playing round her lips. At
her feet a great hound lay extended, his nose upon his paws, his eyes
often lifted to the face of his mistress, his ears pricked at the
smallest sound, even at the snapping of a twig. Nobody could surprise
the Lady Geraldine when she had this faithful henchman at her side.