Sprig Muslin Page 20

  Until that moment, the Chicklades knew no more than they had learnt from Hildebrand, which was very little. So strange a story as was now recounted immediately convinced Mrs Chicklade that she had been only too right when she had strongly counselled her husband not to have anything to do with a desperately wounded man. She had known from the moment of clapping eyes on Hildebrand that there was something havey-cavey about him; and as for Amanda, she would like to know, she said, how she came to be hand-in-glove with such a murdering young rascal.

  ‘I wish you will stop thinking he is a highwayman!’ said Amanda. ‘It was all make-believe – just funning!’

  ‘Funning?’ gasped Mrs Chicklade.

  ‘Yes, I tell you! He never meant to fire his pistol: indeed, he promised me he would not!’

  ‘What did he want to take and cock it for, if he wasn’t meaning to fire it, miss?’ demanded the post-boy shrewdly.

  ‘Oh, that was in case you would not pull up!’ explained Amanda. ‘To fire over your head, and put you in a fright. And although I didn’t wish him to do so at first, I must say I am excessively sorry now that he didn’t, because if only he had there would have been no harm done.’

  ‘I never did!’ exclaimed Mrs Chicklade. ‘Why, you’re as bad as he is! I believe the pair of you was in a plot to rob the poor gentleman, and what I want to know is how you came to wheedle yourself into his company, which it’s as plain as a pikestaff you must ha’ done, and very likely too, for a bolder piece I never did see, not in all my days!’

  ‘Easy, now!’ interposed the landlord, in his deep voice. ‘I’ll allow it’s a queer-sounding business, but you’ve no call to speak so rough to the young lady, my dear. Who is the gentleman, missie?’

  ‘I can tell you that!’ said the post-boy officiously. ‘He’s Sir Gareth Ludlow, and a bang-up tulip, and him and her was putting-up in Kimbolton last night. He hired me for to carry them to Bedford.’

  The landlord looked Amanda over thoughtfully. ‘Well, now, miss, you ain’t his wife, because you’ve got no ring on your finger, and he don’t look to me old enough to be your pa, nor yet young enough to be your brother, so what’s the game?’

  ‘Ah, answer that if you can!’ said Mrs Chicklade.

  ‘He is my uncle,’ replied Amanda calmly. ‘And also he is Mr Ross’s uncle. Mr Ross is the man who shot him, but quite by accident. In fact, Mr Ross and I are cousins, and it is true that we were hand-in-glove, but only to play a trick on Sir Gareth. But Sir Gareth recognized him, and I daresay he knew that he was not at all to be trusted with a pistol, because he told him not to brandish it about, and said he was a young fool. Didn’t he?’

  ‘Ay,’ responded the post-boy reluctantly. ‘But –’

  ‘And then you got off your horse, and of course my cousin thought you meant to attack him, which was the cause of the accident. Because that put him in a fluster. And then his horse began to be very restive, and in the middle of it all the gun went off. He never, never meant to fire it at Sir Gareth! He wasn’t even looking at him!’

  ‘He said to the gentleman, If you come a step nearer, I’ll fire! he said. Yes, and he threatened to blow the head off my shoulders, what’s more!’

  ‘It seems to me a great pity that he didn’t do so!’ said Amanda. ‘I am quite tired of talking to anyone so stupid! If you had a particle of commonsense you would know that if he had wished to escape he might have done so when you were helping me to bind the neckcloths round Sir Gareth! And if he had meant to shoot Sir Gareth, he wouldn’t have fallen down in a swoon, in that silly way, which you know very well he did!’

  ‘Swooned off, did he?’ said the landlord. ‘It don’t surprise me. He was looking just about as sick as a cushion when he came bursting in here. Seems to me it’s likely as not it happened the way you say it did, miss, but there’s no sense in arguing, whatever the rights of it may be. Martha, my dear, you take the young lady to the other bedchamber, where she can wash the blood off her hands, and put on a clean gown. When you’ve done that, you can pop a brick in the oven, because the gentleman’s powerful cold. And as for you, young fellow, you can fetch up his baggage, and help me get the clothes off him, so as he can be laid between sheets, comfortable.’

  Amanda cast a doubtful glance at Sir Gareth, but as she could think of nothing she could do to revive him, and the landlord seemed dependable, she allowed herself to be led by her disapproving hostess into the room beside the one to which Sir Gareth had been carried.

  By the time Hildebrand returned to the inn, announcing that the doctor was following as fast as he could in his gig, not only had Amanda changed her gown, but she had further alienated Mrs Chicklade by demanding milk for Joseph. Mrs Chicklade said that she couldn’t abide cats, and wouldn’t have a pesky kitten in her kitchen, getting under her feet, but as her lord happened to come in just then, wanting to know whether the brick wasn’t hot enough yet, and told her not to be disobliging, Joseph got his milk.

  Chicklade reported that Sir Gareth had come out of his swoon for a brief period, when his boots were being pulled off. He had muttered something unintelligible, and had sunk back into unconsciousness before he could be got to swallow any brandy, but Chicklade considered it hopeful that he had even for no more than a minute shown a sign of life. Hildebrand came hurrying in, to be met by these joyful tidings; and so great had been his dread that he would reach the inn only to find that Sir Gareth was dead that he burst into tears. This excess of sensibility did nothing to recommend him to Amanda, but considerably relieved the unbearable tension of his nerves. He was able, in a few moments, to listen with tolerable composure to the news that, during his absence, he had acquired two new relations.

  ‘Do you perfectly understand?’ Amanda asked anxiously. ‘Sir Gareth is our uncle, and you held him up because we had made a plan to play a trick on him.’

  He was far from understanding, but he nodded, adding, in a hopeless tone, that when Sir Gareth came to himself he would promptly disown him.

  ‘Of course he will not!’ said Amanda. ‘He wouldn’t dream of doing such an unhandsome thing!’

  This remark was quite incomprehensible to him, but before he could demand enlightenment the doctor had arrived, and he was left to puzzle over it in solitude.

  The doctor was surprised to be received by so youthful a lady, and although he accepted without question that she was his patient’s niece he was much inclined to think that Mrs Chicklade would be a more competent assistant to him in any surgery that he might have to perform. But when he saw what she had already done for Sir Gareth he changed his mind. While he unpacked his bag, and Chicklade went off to bring up a bowl of hot water, he asked her a good many questions about the affair, shooting a curious look at her every now and then from under his bushy eyebrows. He said finally that she was a very remarkable young lady, and begged pardon for having doubted her fortitude.

  In the event, the operation of extracting the bullet was a sight which tried her fortitude severely, and it was only by a supreme exercise of will-power that she managed to remain at the bedside, handing Dr Chantry the various instruments, and swabs of lint which he from time to time called for.

  Sir Gareth came round under the doctor’s hands, and uttered a groan that made Amanda wince in sympathy. The doctor spoke to him in heartening accents, and he opened his eyes. After a bewildered moment, he seemed to realize what had happened to him, for he said, faintly, but perfectly clearly: ‘I remember. Not the boy’s fault!’

  The doctor directed Chicklade, under his breath, to hold him, but after a very few minutes of endurance he lost consciousness again.

  ‘Ay, and just as well,’ grunted Dr Chantry, when Chicklade, rather alarmed, drew his attention to this circumstance. ‘It’s in devilish deep, I can tell you. No sense in bringing him round, poor fellow, till I have him tied up comfortably.’

  It seemed to Amanda a very long ti
me before this last operation was performed, and she could not believe that Sir Gareth would find it comfortable. But the doctor said that by God’s mercy the bullet had not touched a vital spot, which made her feel very much more cheerful, until he added that no one could say yet how it would turn out, though he hoped that with perfect quiet and good nursing all might be well.

  ‘But he won’t die, will he?’ Amanda asked imploringly.

  ‘I trust not, young lady, but it’s a nasty wound, and he has lost a great deal of blood. I can tell you this: if you hadn’t behaved with such presence of mind he wouldn’t be alive now.’

  But Amanda, who had always longed to play a heroine’s part, could only see herself as little better than a murderess, and impatiently brushed this aside, saying: ‘Tell me exactly what I must do to make him better! Everything I must do!’

  He patted her shoulder. ‘No, no, you’re too young, my dear! Now, don’t fret! I don’t anticipate that there will be any complications, but what we want is an experienced woman to look after him.’

  ‘I’ll send round to Mrs Bardfield, sir,’ Chicklade said.

  ‘Oh, the midwife! Ay, an excellent notion! There’s little to be done for him at present but to keep him quiet, but I shall send my boy over with a cordial, and some laudanum, in case he should grow restless. I’ve given him something to make him sleep, but if the wound should become inflamed he may develop a little fever presently. No need to be unduly anxious, however. I shall be over to take a look at him this evening, never fear!’

  Fourteen

  For a long time after the doctor’s departure, Amanda remained seated beside Sir Gareth’s bed. To her eye, Dr Chantry did not compare favourably with such members of the faculty as had previously come in her way, but she could see that whatever it was that he had obliged his patient to swallow had certainly been of benefit to him. He was still dreadfully pale, but he no longer lay in a death-like swoon. He seemed to be heavily asleep, but from time to time his hand, which was lying outside the blankets, twitched, or he moved his head restlessly on the pillow.

  At noon, Chicklade came softly into the room, and whispered to her that Mrs Bardfield was below-stairs, having come up from her cottage at the other end of the village to take a look at her patient.

  ‘She’ll sit up with him tonight, miss. Doctor says he won’t want anything for a while yet, so I don’t doubt we can manage well enough till dinner-time. Will I bring her up, so as she can see how the gentleman is?’

  Amanda gave ready permission. In emergency, she could act not only with courage, but with an inborn sense of what was needed; but confronted with a sick-bed she was conscious of ignorance. It was with a thankful countenance that she rose to greet a woman of experience of sick-nursing.

  She suffered a severe revulsion of feeling. The lady who presently wheezed her way up the stairs, and entered the room with no light tread, was not one whose appearance invited confidence. She was extremely stout, and although she seemed from her ingratiating smile to be good-humoured Amanda thought her countenance very unprepossessing. She liked neither the expression of her curiously hazy eyes, nor their inability to remain fixed for more than a moment on any one object. The cap which she wore under a large bonnet was by no means clean, and there emanated from her person an unpleasant aroma of which the predominant elements were onions, stale sweat, and spirituous liquor. The floor shook under her heavy tread, and when she bent over Sir Gareth, she said: ‘Ah, poor dear!’ in an unctuous voice which filled Amanda with loathing. She then laid her hand on his brow, and said; ‘Well, he ain’t feverish, which is one good thing, but he looks mortal bad.’ After that, she adjusted his pillows with hearty good-will, and ruthlessly straightened the blankets that covered him. He was too heavily drugged to wake, but Amanda could bear no longer to see Mrs Bardfield’s rough and not over-clean hands touching him, and she said sharply: ‘Don’t! Leave him alone!’

  Mrs Bardfield was accustomed to the nervous qualms of sick persons’ relatives, and she smiled indulgently, saying: ‘Lor’ bless you, dearie, you don’t want to worrit your head now I’m here! Many’s the gentleman I’ve nursed, ay, and laid out too! Now, I’ll stay beside him for a while, because Mr Chicklade’s got a nice bit of cold meat and pickles laid out for a nuncheon for you and the young gentleman, and a pot of tea besides. That’ll do you good, and you’ll know your poor uncle’s in safe hands.’

  Amanda managed to thank her, though in a choked voice, and fled down the stairs to find Hildebrand. He was awaiting her in the small parlour, and when he saw her face he started forward, exclaiming in horror: ‘Good God, what is it? Oh, is he worse?’

  ‘No, no! I wouldn’t have left him if he hadn’t been better! It is that detestable old woman! Hildebrand, she shan’t touch him! I won’t permit it! She is dirty, and rough, and she says she lays people out!’

  ‘Yes, I know – I saw her, and I must own – But what are we to do, if you turn her off? You cannot nurse Sir Gareth, and Mrs Chicklade seems very unamiable, so that I shouldn’t think –’

  ‘Oh, no! I know just what I ought to do, only I cannot! I don’t even know her name! His sister, I mean. So I have made up my mind that Lady Hester must come, and I think she would be willing to, because she is very kind, and she said she would like to help me if she could. And besides that, Mr Theale told me that Sir Gareth was going to offer for her, and although I don’t know if it was true, perhaps it was, and she would wish me to send for her! So –’

  ‘Going to offer for her?’ broke in Hildebrand. ‘But you said he was determined to marry you!’

  ‘Yes, I know I did, but it wasn’t true! I can’t think how you came to imagine it was, for of all the absurd things – ! I suppose I shall have to explain it all to you, but first I must know if that stupid post-boy is still here.’

  ‘I think he’s in the tap, but I’ve paid him off. I – I thought that would be the right thing to do.’

  ‘Oh, yes, but I find we shall need him, and the chaise! Hildebrand, I do hope to goodness he doesn’t still wish to inform against you?’

  ‘No,’ he replied, flushing. ‘I – I told Dr Chantry, and he made all right. And I must tell you, Amanda, that even if Sir Gareth hasn’t behaved well towards you, he has behaved towards me with a generosity I can never repay. When the doctor told me what he said when he came to himself –’ He broke off, his lip quivering.

  ‘Yes, he is the kindest creature!’ she agreed. ‘And though he made me very angry – and I still cannot feel that he had any business to interfere, and ruin my plan! – he didn’t do any of the things I said he did. Never mind that now! You must go and tell the post-boy that you will be requiring him to drive you to Brancaster Park, to bring back Lady Hester. I am not perfectly sure how many miles it is to Chatteris, but I shouldn’t think we can be very far from it.’

  ‘Chatteris?’ he interrupted. ‘It must be five-and-twenty miles away, and very likely more!’

  ‘Well, and if it is, surely you don’t mean to say you won’t go?’ she demanded. ‘Of all the paltry things!’

  ‘Of course I don’t!’ he retorted, glaring at her. ‘But I am not going to hire a chaise for a drive of fifty miles and more! Besides, the post-boy Sir Gareth hired wouldn’t agree to it, because he was hired to go to Bedford, and nowhere else. And even if he did consent, I wouldn’t have him!’

  ‘But –’

  ‘I’ll tell you what it is, Amanda!’ said Mr Ross, in a most unadmiring tone. ‘You fancy no one can think of anything but yourself!’

  ‘Well, no one has!’ she said, firing up. ‘And certainly not you, for you only –’

  ‘Who thought of riding on ahead to prepare the Chicklades?’

  ‘Oh, that!’ said Amanda, hunching up one shoulder.

  ‘Yes, that!’ he said furiously. ‘And, what’s more, it was I who thought of holding up the chaise, not you!’

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p; ‘Well, if you mean to boast of that, I suppose you will say next that you thought of shooting Sir Gareth!’ cried Amanda.

  Battle was now fairly joined, and for the next few minutes two overwrought young persons found relief for their shocked nerves in a right royal quarrel. Sir Gareth on his sick-bed, and the nuncheon on the table were alike forgotten in a wholesale exchange of recriminations. Chicklade, coming into the parlour with a dish of fruit, stopped on the threshold, and for several moments listened, unperceived, to a quarrel which was rapidly sinking to nursery-level. Indeed, when he presently rejoined his wife, he told her, with a chuckle, that there could be no doubt that the young lady and gentleman were related: to hear them, you’d have thought them brother and sister.

  As soon as they became aware of his presence, their quarrel ceased abruptly. In cold and haughty silence, they took their places at the table. Neither had any appetite, but each drank a cup of tea, and felt better. Amanda stole a surreptitious look at Hildebrand, found that he was stealing one at her, and giggled. This broke the ice; they both fell into laughter; after which Hildebrand begged pardon, if he had been uncivil; and Amanda said that she hadn’t really meant to say that she was sure he couldn’t write a play.

  Friendly relations were thus re-established, but Hildebrand’s brief period of enchantment was over. It had not, in fact, survived the impatience she had shown when he had recovered from his swoon. She was still a very pretty girl, though not (when one studied her dispassionately) as beautiful as he had at first thought her; and she certainly had a great deal of spirit, but he preferred girls with gentler manners. He was inclined to think that, in addition to being much too masterful, she was unbecomingly bold. By the time she had confided to him, under the seal of secrecy, the exact circumstances which had led up to her encounter with Sir Gareth, he was sure of this. His shocked face, and unhesitating condemnation of her plan of campaign, very nearly resulted in the resumption of hostilities. To disapproval of her outrageous scheme was added indignation that she should have enlisted his support by painting Sir Gareth in false colours. He exclaimed that it was the shabbiest thing; and as she secretly agreed with him her defence lacked conviction.