The Foundling Page 16

  His soft voice, falling upon the ears of the crowd in striking contrast to the strident accents of the combatants, seemed to have an instant and sobering effect. Even the beadle was not unaffected by the indefinable air of dignity which wrapped the Duke round, and raised no objection to withdrawing into the coffee-room of the inn.

  ‘Come, Tom!’ the Duke said. He saw one of the ostlers standing nearby, and added: ‘You, there! Take the gig into the yard, if you please!’

  He then passed into the White Horse, and Tom, Mrs Appleby, the beadle, the weedy man, the farmer, and the lady in the mob-cap all crowded in after him. Once within the coffee-room both Tom and Mrs Appleby would have poured their stories into his ears, but he interrupted them, saying: ‘Pray wait! I will attend to you in a minute.’ He looked at the beadle, and said calmly: ‘Now will you tell me what all this bustle is about?’

  The beadle was impressed in spite of himself. Unquestionably this quiet young gentleman was a member of the Quality. His experience had taught him the value of civility in dealing with such, and it was in moderated accents that he informed the Duke that four varmints, of whom young Mr Mamble was the ringleader, had not only caused obstruction upon the King’s highway, but had effected the ruin of an honest citizen’s new cart, and had been guilty of the frightful crime of delaying and seriously incommoding the Mail, the penalty for such offence, as Mr Rufford was no doubt aware, being no less than the sum of five pounds.

  ‘Dear me!’ said the Duke. ‘And how did all this come about, Tom?’

  ‘I didn’t do those things! At least, I never meant to, and how was I to know the mail was approaching?’ said Tom, deeply aggrieved. ‘You told me I might amuse myself!’

  By this time another person had edged himself into the room, a nervous-looking man in a muffler, who awaited no invitation to describe to the Duke in detail the damage suffered by his new cart through the young cob’s rearing up in alarm, and subsequently kicking in the front of the vehicle, at the unprecedented sight of two donkeys, a cow, and Mr Datchet’s old bay gelding being ridden backwards down the main street.

  ‘It was a race!’ explained Tom.

  The beadle here took up the tale, and from his recital the Duke gathered that just as the entrants for this peculiar race reached the corner of the road, the mail swept round it, coming from the opposite direction, and narrowly escaped an overturn. One of the leaders, in fact, got a leg over the trace, the coachman had the greatest difficulty in controlling his team, and all the passengers had suffered severe shocks to their nerves.

  After recounting the exact circumstances of the crime, the beadle attempted to outline to the assembled company the ultimate fate of the sporting young gentlemen, and the immediate and awful penalties they had incurred. He was at once interrupted by the lady in the mob-cap, who asserted tearfully that her Will had always been a good boy, as well Mr Piddinghoe knew, until led astray by evil companions. She was seconded by the weedy man, who stated that nothing short of the most violent pressure could have induced his Fred so to demean himself; and by the farmer, who said loudly and belligerently that it was nobbut a boy’s prank, and he would dust Nat’s jacket for him, and no more said.

  However, a great deal more had to be said before the Duke could settle the affair. Mrs Appleby very unwisely demanded to be told what should get into the boys to make them take and run a race backwards, and this encouraged Tom to explain indignantly and at length the difficulties of handicapping fairly two donkeys, one cow, and an old horse. He seemed to think that he deserved congratulation for having hit upon so novel a solution to the problem, and dwelled so insistently on the excellent performance of the cow under these conditions that everyone but the Duke and the beadle allowed themselves to be diverted from the main point at issue, and either exclaimed several times that they would never have thought it, or argued that it stood to reason the cow would have as good a chance as the horse, particularly seeing as the horse was that broken-down old brute of Mr Datchet’s.

  The Duke, meanwhile, detached the owner of the ruined cart from the circle, and settled his claims out of hand. Much mollified, Mr Badby stowed away the money which the Duke paid him for the repair of his cart, and said that he had been young himself, and was never one to create a to-do over a trifle. It then transpired that the driver and the guard of the mail-coach had very handsomely forborne to lodge an official charge against Tom, so that with Mr Badby’s retirement from the lists, the beadle was left without any very powerful weapon to use against the miscreants. The Duke was then inspired to suggest that after so much alarm and excitement everyone must stand in need of such revivifying cordials as could be found in the tap-room, and invited the assembled company to refresh themselves there at his expense. The idea took well; and after the Duke had sternly dismissed Tom to the Pink Parlour, and had promised the beadle that he should be suitably dealt with, the whole party repaired to the tap-room, where liberal potations of ale, gin, or porter very soon induced even the beadle and the weedy man, who proved to be Baldock’s leading tailor, to look upon the late disturbance as a very good jest. The Duke’s shy smile, and quite unconscious charm were not without their effect, and since he was found to have not the least height in his manner it was not long before his obvious quality was forgotten, and he was being confided in on all manner of topics, from the Spasms endured by the lady in the mob-cap, to the shocking prices of serges, corduroys, shalloons, and tammies.

  By the time the Duke judged that he could bid farewell to his guests without causing them to think that he fancied himself above his company, Mrs Appleby had three times whispered to him that his dinner was spoiling in the oven. He took his leave at last, and went upstairs to the parlour, where he found Tom awaiting him in a mood of almost equally matched penitence and vainglory. Tom was ready to justify himself at length, but as his protector, instead of rating him, succumbed to a fit of pent-up laughter as soon as he had fairly shut the door, his aggressive manner left him abruptly, and he offered up a handsome apology for having been the cause of so much trouble and expense.

  ‘Indeed, I perceive clearly that you will soon ruin me!’ the Duke said, still laughing. ‘I don’t know what you deserve should be done to you!’

  ‘Sir, you won’t send me back to Pa and Mr Snape, will you?’ Tom demanded anxiously.

  ‘No, no, nothing short of transportation will do for you!’ the Duke told him.

  His mind relieved of its only dread, Tom grinned gratefully, and applied himself with his usual energy and appetite to his dinner.

  When he had retired to bed, which, since he was, he said, unaccountably tired, he was induced to do at an early hour, the Duke committed his cousin’s letters to the flames, and sent the waiter to obtain for him paper, ink, pens, and wafers. These commodities having been brought, the fire made up, and the blinds drawn, he sat down to write two letters. The first of these was to Matthew, at Oxford, and did not occupy him long. He sealed it with one of the wafers, wrote the direction, and was just about to scrawl his name across one corner when he recollected himself, and reopened the letter to add a postscript. ‘I fear you will have to pay some sixpences for this history,’ he wrote, smiling to himself ‘but it would never do, you know, for me to frank this. I hope you will not grudge it!’

  He then affixed a fresh wafer to his missive, laid it aside and wrote upon a new sheet of paper:

  White Horse,

  Baldock.

  My dear Gideon,

  Here the letter came to a sudden halt, it having just occurred to the Duke that he would in all probability see his dear Gideon before a letter could reach him. However, after biting the end of his quill reflectively for a few minutes, he decided that since he had nothing to read, and did not wish to retire to bed, he would write to Gideon after all. The urge to confide some part at least of his amazing new experiences to Gideon was irresistible. Besides, a description of Tom’s race and its con
sequences would occupy several sheets, so that Gideon would be forced to disgorge large sums to the Post Office for the privilege of receiving a letter from his noble relative, and that would be a very proper revenge on him for having tried to horrify one smaller and younger than himself with a blood-curdling novel. The Duke gave a little chuckle, dipped his quill in the ink, and lost no time in explaining this to Gideon. After that he embarked on a humorous account of his stage-coach journey, and in the most high-flown terms he could summon to mind, assured his cousin that he had already slain a considerable dragon, in the shape of an out-and-out villain, whom he had tricked, outwitted, and left for dead in a haunt of thieves and desperate characters from which he himself was lucky to have escaped with his life. He could fancy how Gideon would grin when he read this, and grinned himself. ‘And if you should wonder, my dear Gideon,’ he continued, ‘why I should put myself to the trouble of writing to inform you of this when I have the intention of returning to London to-morrow, I must further inform you that I have engaged myself as bearleader to a youth of tender years, whose fertile mind suggests to him such ways of amusing himself as seem likely to keep me too fully occupied during the coming week to have leisure to spare for a visit to your chambers.’

  He then favoured his cousin with the whole story of the backward-race, told him that his circle of friends had been enlarged to include a tailor, a lady who kept a pastry-cook’s shop, a beadle, and three farmers, and was just about to end his letter when he remembered something else which Gideon must certainly be told about. ‘By the by,’ he wrote, ‘if you never hear of me again, you will know that I have fled the country, taking with me the most beautiful creature I ever beheld in my life. Alas that the notice of my engagement must by now have appeared in the Gazette! I would I could describe my inamorata to you, but no words could do even faint justice to her loveliness. The heart left my bosom in one bound! Ever your most affectionate, Adolphus.’

  He closed his letter, and directed it, reflecting that it would undoubtedly bring Gideon round to Sale House at the first opportunity. It was still quite early in the evening, and the rumble of voices in the tap-room came faintly to the Duke’s ears. He was just wondering whether or not to seek entertainment there when a knock fell on the door, and the waiter came in, and, bending a look upon him compound of curiosity and disapproval, informed him that there was a young person belowstairs who was desirous of seeing him. ‘Leastways,’ he added, ‘I dunno who else it could be, for there ain’t no one else here like what she says you are, not in this house there ain’t.’

  ‘A young person to see me?’ echoed the Duke blankly. ‘You must be mistaken!’ A sudden and unwelcome suspicion darted into his mind. He said: ‘Good God!’ and changed colour.

  The waiter observed his consternation with a certain satisfaction. ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘And go away, which I told her to, she will not!’

  ‘I’ll come!’ the Duke said hastily, and went to the head of the stairs, and looked down into the lobby. Seated on a chair, a band-box on her knees, and another at her feet, was Belinda, her enchanting face framed in a blue bonnet, and a pelisse buttoned up to her white throat. In front of her, and in an attitude of unmistakable hostility, stood Mrs Appleby.

  Some instinct warned the Duke that he beheld Trouble. A prudent man would at this point retire to his room, denying all knowledge of the fair visitor, and leave Mrs Appleby to get rid of her, which, he judged, she would very soon do, if left undeterred. But the Duke had either too little prudence or too much chivalry to adopt this course; he went down the stairs.

  Both ladies looked up quickly, one greeting him with a blinding smile, and the other with a stare of outraged virtue. ‘Oh, sir, please I had to come!’ said Belinda.

  ‘This young woman, sir,’ said Mrs Appleby grimly, ‘appears to have business with you, for all she cannot give you a name! And I will take leave to tell you, sir, that mine has always been a respectable house, and such goings-on I will not have!’

  ‘Oh, hush, Mrs Appleby!’ begged the Duke. ‘I am acquainted with this lady!’

  ‘Of that I make no doubt, sir!’ retorted Mrs Appleby.

  The Duke sought wildly in his mind for an explanation likely to satisfy the landlady, and could hit upon only one. ‘She is Tom’s sister!’ he said, devoutly hoping that Belinda would not deny it. ‘She has come in search of him, of course!’

  Belinda, who seemed to have a mind very responsive to suggestion, nodded her head at this, and smiled at Mrs Appleby.

  ‘In – deed!’ pronounced that lady. ‘Then perhaps you will have the goodness to tell me what your business is, miss?’

  ‘To find Tom,’ replied Belinda happily.

  ‘I never heard such a tale, not in all my life I didn’t!’ exclaimed Mrs Appleby, outraged. ‘Why, you’re no more like him than I am! Sir, I’ll have you know –’

  ‘And I have brought all my things with me, because I dare not go back, so if you please, sir, will you take care of me?’ added Belinda, turning her melting gaze upon the Duke.

  ‘Not in my house he will not!’ declared Mrs Appleby, without hesitation.

  By this time a small audience, consisting of the waiter, the boots, the tapster, and two chambermaids, had gathered in the lobby, and the Duke, acutely unhappy at finding himself the centre of so much curiosity, said: ‘Please step up to the parlour, Miss – Miss Mamble! And do you come up too, Mrs Appleby! I will explain it to you in private!’

  Belinda got up readily from the chair. The Duke took the band-boxes from her; and Mrs Appleby, after demanding to know if her various servants could find nothing better to do than to stand there gaping, said that no amount of explanation would reconcile her to Belinda’s presence in the inn. But as Belinda and the Duke were by this time halfway up the stairs she was obliged to follow them, maintaining a threatening monologue all the way.

  The Duke ushered Belinda into his parlour, set down the band-boxes, and firmly shut the door upon her. He turned to confront Mrs Appleby.

  That redoubtable lady at once broke into speech. If, she declared, Mr Rufford had the least hope of her keeping that Hussy under her roof for as much as one hour he was sadly mistaken! To be sure, she might have guessed, after the events of this day, that something of the sort would happen, but boys’ mischief was one thing, and goings-on of this nature quite another.

  ‘Mrs Appleby,’ interrupted the Duke, ‘can you seriously suppose that I nourish the slightest improper design towards that child? Why, she is hardly out of the schoolroom!’

  ‘I know nothing of your designs, sir,’ retorted Mrs Appleby, ‘but hers are plain enough, and give her a room in my house I will not!’

  ‘Then I must give her mine, and sleep on the sofa in the parlour,’ said the Duke calmly.

  Mrs Appleby fought for breath.

  ‘You cannot,’ proceeded the Duke, ‘turn a child of that age into the street at this hour. Indeed, I am persuaded you are by far too good a woman to think of doing so.’

  ‘Let her,’ said Mrs Appleby terribly, ‘go back to wherever it was she came from!’

  ‘It is quite impossible that she should do so. I see I shall have to entrust the whole story to your ears,’ said the Duke.

  He then proceeded, somewhat to his own astonishment and considerably more to Mrs Appleby’s, to weave about the unconscious persons of Belinda and Mr Thomas Mamble a lurid and fantastic story in which defaulting trustees, cruel stepfathers, and hideous persecution figured prominently, if somewhat obscurely. He cast himself for the rôle of secret envoy, but being quite unable to think of any reason for an envoy’s presence in Baldock, took refuge in an air of mystery which so much bewildered Mrs Appleby that she ended by weakly saying that Belinda might have a small bedchamber at the back of the house for one night only, and that not because she believed one word of Mr Rufford’s story but because she was not, she hoped, an unmerciful woman.
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  The Duke, feeling worn-out by the exercise of so much imagination, mopped his damp brow as soon as Mrs Appleby had sailed away to prepare the small back bedchamber, and nerved himself to enter his parlour.

  He found that Belinda, having shed her bonnet and pelisse, had made herself comfortable in an easy chair by the fire, and was eating one of the few apples Tom had left in the basket on the side-table. She greeted her host with her angelic smile, and said: ‘How disagreeable she is! Will she let me stay here, sir?’

  ‘Yes, for to-night she will,’ he replied. ‘But I do not understand! Why have you come? What is it you wish me to do for you?’

  She looked at him in surprise and faint reproach. ‘But you said you wished you might take me with you!’ she reminded him.

  The Duke, who clearly saw an abyss yawning at his feet, said with a great deal of uneasiness in his voice: ‘Did I? Yes, well, but – but I cannot take you with me!’

  ‘Can’t you?’ said Belinda wistfully. ‘Then what must I do, please, sir?’

  ‘My dear girl, how can I possibly advise you?’ protested Gilly. ‘I do not even know why you have left your uncle!’

  ‘Oh, he is not my uncle!’ said Belinda blithely.

  ‘Not your uncle? He is your guardian though, is he not?’

  ‘He said he would be,’ agreed Belinda, ‘but he never gave me any of the things he promised me, and besides, I don’t like it at that horrid little inn, so perhaps I won’t have him for a guardian any more. I thought I might have you for one instead,’ she added confidingly.

  ‘No,’ said the Duke firmly, ‘that is quite impossible!’

  Belinda sighed, but appeared to resign herself to her disappointment. She took another bite out of her apple, and fixed her eyes expectantly on the Duke’s face.