The Castle Inn Page 7

  CHAPTER VII

  ACHILLES AND BRISEIS

  The honourable Mr. Dunborough's collapse arising rather from loss ofblood than from an injury to a vital part, he was sufficiently recoveredeven on the day after the meeting to appreciate his nurse's presence.Twice he was heard to chuckle without apparent cause; once he strove,but failed, to detain her hand; while the feeble winks which from timeto time he bestowed on Mr. Thomasson when her back was towards him wereattributed by that gentleman, who should have known the patient, toreflections closely connected with her charms.

  His rage was great, therefore, when three days after the duel, he awoke,missed her, and found in her place the senior bedmaker of Magdalen--aworthy woman, learned in simples and with hands of horn, but far frombeautiful. This good person he saluted with a vigour which proved himalready far on the road to recovery; and when he was tired of swearing,he wept and threw his nightcap at her. Finally, between one and theother, and neither availing to bring back his Briseis, he fell into afever; which, as he was kept happed up in a box-bed, in a close room,with every window shut and every draught kept off by stuffycurtains--such was the fate of sick men then--bade fair to postpone hisrecovery to a very distant date.

  In this plight he sent one day for Mr. Thomasson, who had the nominalcare of the young gentleman; and the tutor being brought from the clubtavern in the Corn Market which he occasionally condescended tofrequent, the invalid broke to him his resolution.

  'See here, Tommy,' he said in a voice weak but vicious. 'You have got toget her back. I will not be poisoned by this musty old witchany longer.'

  'But if she will not come?' said Mr. Thomasson sadly.

  'The little fool threw up the sponge when she came before,' the patientanswered, tossing restlessly. 'And she will come again, with a littlepressure. Lord, I know the women! So should you.'

  'She came before because--well, I do not quite know why she came,' Mr.Thomasson confessed.

  'Any way, you have got to get her back.'

  The tutor remonstrated, 'My dear good man,' he said unctuously, 'youdon't think of my position. I am a man of the world, I know--'

  'All of it, my Macaroni!'

  'But I cannot be--be mixed up in such a matter as this, my dear sir.'

  'All the same, you have got to get her,' was the stubborn answer. 'Or Iwrite to my lady and tell her you kept mum about my wound. And you willnot like that, my tulip.'

  On that point he was right; for if there was a person in the world ofwhom Mr. Thomasson stood in especial awe, it was of Lady Dunborough. Mylord, the author of 'Pomaria Britannica' and 'The Elegant Art ofPomiculture as applied to Landscape Gardening,' was a quantity he couldsafely neglect. Beyond his yew-walks and his orchards his lordship was acipher. He had proved too respectable even for the peerage; and of latehad cheerfully resigned all his affairs into the hands of his wife,formerly the Lady Michal M'Intosh, a penniless beauty, with the pride ofa Scotchwoman and the temper of a Hervey. Her enemies said that my ladyhad tripped in the merry days of George the Second, and now made up forpast easiness by present hardness. Her friends--but it must be confessedher ladyship had no friends.

  Be that as it might, Mr. Thomasson had refrained from summoning her toher son's bedside; partly because the surgeons had quickly pronouncedthe wound a trifle, much more because the little he had seen of herladyship had left him no taste to see more. He knew, however, that theomission would weigh heavily against him were it known; and as he hadhopes from my lady's aristocratic connections, and need in certaindifficulties of all the aid he could muster, he found the threat not oneto be sneezed at. His laugh betrayed this.

  However, he tried to put the best face on the matter. 'You won't dothat,' he said. 'She would spoil sport, my friend. Her ladyship is nofool, and would not suffer your little amusements.'

  'She is no fool,' Mr. Dunborough replied with emphasis. 'As you willfind, Tommy, if she comes to Oxford, and learns certain things. It willbe farewell to your chance of having that milksop of a Marquis fora pupil!'

  Now, it was one of Mr. Thomasson's highest ambitions at this time tohave the young Marquis of Carmarthen entrusted to him; and LadyDunborough was connected with the family, and, it was said, had interestthere. He was silent.

  'You see,' Mr. Dunborough continued, marking with a chuckle the effecthis words had produced, 'you have got to get her.'

  Mr. Thomasson did not admit that that was so, but he writhed in hischair; and presently he took his leave and went away, his plump paleface gloomy and the crow's feet showing plain at the corners of hiseyes. He had given no promise; but that evening a messenger from thecollege requested Mrs. Masterson to attend at his rooms on thefollowing morning.

  She did not go. At the appointed hour, however, there came a knock onthe tutor's door, and that gentleman, who had sent his servant out ofthe way, found Mr. Fishwick on the landing. 'Tut-tut!' said the don withsome brusqueness, his hand still on the door; 'do you want me?' He hadseen the attorney after the duel, and in the confusion attendant on theinjured man's removal; and knew him by sight, but no farther.

  'I--hem--I think you wished to see Mrs. Masterson?' was Mr. Fishwick'sanswer, and the lawyer, but with all humility, made as if hewould enter.

  The tutor, however, barred the way. 'I wished to see Mrs. Masterson,' hesaid drily, and with his coldest air of authority. 'But who are you?'

  'I am here on her behalf,' Mr. Fishwick answered, meekly pressing hishat in his hands.

  'On her behalf?' said Mr. Thomasson stiffly. 'Is she ill?'

  'No, sir, I do not know that she is ill.'

  'Then I do not understand,' Mr. Thomasson answered in his most dignifiedtone. 'Are you aware that the woman is in the position of a collegeservant, inhabiting a cottage the property of the college? And liable tobe turned out at the college will?'

  'It may be so,' said the attorney.

  'Then, if you please, what is the meaning of her absence when requestedby one of the Fellows of the college to attend?'

  'I am here to represent her,' said Mr. Fishwick.

  'Represent her! Represent a college laundress! Pooh! I never heard ofsuch a thing.'

  'But, sir, I am her legal adviser, and--'

  'Legal adviser!' Mr. Thomasson retorted, turning purple--he was reallypuzzled. 'A bedmaker with a legal adviser! It's the height of impudence!Begone, sir, and take it from me, that the best advice you can give heris to attend me within the hour.'

  Mr. Fishwick looked rather blue. 'If it has nothing to do with herproperty,' he said reluctantly, and as if he had gone too far.

  'Property!' said Mr. Thomasson, gasping.

  'Or her affairs.'

  'Affairs!' the tutor cried. 'I never heard of a bedmaker havingaffairs.'

  'Well,' said the lawyer doggedly, and with the air of a man goaded intotelling what he wished to conceal, 'she is leaving Oxford. That isthe fact.'

  'Oh!' said Mr. Thomasson, falling on a sudden into the minor key. 'Andher daughter?'

  'And her daughter.'

  'That is unfortunate,' the tutor answered, thoughtfully rubbing hishands. 'The truth is--the girl proved so good a nurse in the case of mynoble friend who was injured the other day--my lord ViscountDunborough's son, a most valuable life--that since she absented herself,he has not made the same progress. And as I am responsible for him--'

  'She should never have attended him!' the attorney answered withunexpected sharpness.

  'Indeed! And why not, may I ask?' the tutor inquired.

  Mr. Fishwick did not answer the question. Instead, 'She would not havegone to him in the first instance,' he said, 'but that she was under amisapprehension.'

  'A misapprehension?'

  'She thought that the duel lay at her door,' the attorney answered; 'andin that belief was impelled to do what she could to undo theconsequences. Romantic, but a most improper step!'

  'Improper!' said the tutor, much ruffled. 'And why, sir?'

  'Most improper,' the attorney repeated in a dry, business-like to
ne. 'Iam instructed that the gentleman had for weeks past paid her attentionswhich, his station considered, could scarcely be honourable, and ofwhich she had more than once expressed her dislike. Under thosecircumstances, to expose her to his suit--but no more need be said,' theattorney added, breaking off and taking a pinch of snuff with greatenjoyment, 'as she is leaving the city.'

  Mr. Thomasson had much ado to mask his chagrin under a show ofcontemptuous incredulity. 'The wench has too fine a conceit of herself!'he blurted out. 'Hark you, sir--this is a fable! I wonder you dare toput it about. A gentleman of the station of my lord Dunborough's sondoes not condescend to the gutter!'

  'I will convey the remark to my client,' said the attorney, bristlingall over.

  'Client!' Mr. Thomasson retorted, trembling with rage--for he saw theadvantage he had given the enemy. 'Since when had laundry maids lawyers?Client! Pho! Begone, sir! You are abusive. I'll have you looked up onthe rolls. I'll have your name taken!'

  'I would not talk of names if I were you,' cried Mr. Fishwick, reddeningin his turn with rage. 'Men give a name to what you are doing thismorning, and it is not a pleasant one. It is to be hoped, sir, that Mr.Dunborough pays you well for your services!'

  'You--insolent rascal!' the tutor stammered, losing in a moment all hisdignity and becoming a pale flabby man, with the spite and the terror ofcrime in his face. 'You--begone! Begone, sir.'

  'Willingly,' said the attorney, swelling with defiance. 'You may tellyour principal that when he means marriage, he may come to us. Notbefore. I take my leave, sir. Good morning.' And with that he struttedout and marched slowly and majestically down the stairs.

  He bore off the honours of war. Mr. Thomasson, left among his Titiancopies, his gleaming Venuses, and velvet curtains, was a sorry thing.The man who preserves a cloak of outward decency has always thisvulnerable spot; strip him, and he sees himself as others see or may seehim, and views his ugliness with griping qualms. Mr. Thomasson bore theexposure awhile, sitting white and shaking in a chair, seeing himselfand seeing the end, and, like the devils, believing and trembling. Thenhe rose and staggered to a little cupboard, the door of which wasadorned with a pretty Greek motto, and a hovering Cupid painted in ablue sky; whence he filled himself a glass of cordial. A second glassfollowed; this restored the colour to his cheeks and the brightness tohis eyes. He shivered; then smacked his lips and began to reflect whatface he should put upon it when he went to report to his pupil.

  In deciding that point he made a mistake. Unluckily for himself andothers, in the version which he chose he was careful to include allmatters likely to arouse Dunborough's resentment; in particular he laidmalicious stress upon the attorney's scornful words about a marriage.This, however--and perhaps the care he took to repeat it--had anunlooked-for result. Mr. Dunborough began by cursing the rogue'simpudence, and did it with all the heat his best friend could desire.But, being confined to his room, haunted by the vision of his flame, yetdebarred from any attempt to see her, his mood presently changed; hisheart became as water, and he fell into a maudlin state about her.Dwelling constantly on memories of his Briseis--whose name, by the way,was Julia--having her shape and complexion, her gentle touch and hersmile, always in his mind, while he was unable in the body to see somuch as the hem of her gown, Achilles grew weaker in will as he grewstronger in body. Headstrong and reckless by nature, unaccustomed tothwart a desire or deny himself a gratification, Mr. Dunborough began tocontemplate paying even the last price for her; and one day, about threeweeks after the duel, dropped a word which frightened Mr. Thomasson.

  He was well enough by this time to be up, and was looking through onewindow while the tutor lounged in the seat of another. On a sudden'Lord!' said he, with a laugh that broke off short in the middle. 'Whatwas the queer catch that fellow sang last night? About a bailiff'sdaughter. Well, why not a porter's daughter?'

  'Because you are neither young enough, nor old enough, nor mad enough!'said Mr. Thomasson cynically, supposing the other meant nothing.

  'It is she that would be mad,' the young gentleman answered, with a grimchuckle. 'I should take it out of her sooner or later. And, after all,she is as good as Lady Macclesfield or Lady Falmouth! As good? She isbetter, the saucy baggage! By the Lord, I have a good mind to do it!'

  Mr. Thomasson sat dumbfounded. At length, 'You are jesting! You cannotmean it,' he said.

  'If it is marriage or nothing--and, hang her, she is as cold as a churchpillar--I do mean it,' the gentleman answered viciously; 'and so wouldyou if you were not an old insensible sinner! Think of her ankle, man!Think of her waist! I never saw a waist to compare with it! Even in theHavanna! She is a pearl! She is a jewel! She is incomparable!'

  'And a porter's daughter!'

  'Faugh, I don't believe it.' And he took his oath on the point.

  'You make me sick!' Mr. Thomasson said; and meant it. Then, 'My dearfriend, I see how it is,' he continued. 'You have the fever on youstill, or you would not dream of such things.'

  'But I do dream of her--every night, confound her!' Mr. Dunborough said;and he groaned like a love-sick boy. 'Oh, hang it, Tommy,' he continuedplaintively, 'she has a kind of look in her eyes when she ispleased--that makes you think of dewy mornings when you were a boy andwent fishing.'

  'It _is_ the fever!' Mr. Thomasson said, with conviction. 'It is heavyon him still.' Then, more seriously, 'My very dear sir,' he continued,'do you know that if you had your will you would be miserable within theweek. Remember--

  ''Tis tumult, disorder, 'tis loathing and hate; Caprice gives it birth, and contempt is its fate!'

  'Gad, Tommy!' said Mr. Dunborough, aghast with admiration at the aptnessof the lines. 'That is uncommon clever of you! But I shall do it all thesame,' he continued, in a tone of melancholy foresight. 'I know I shall.I am a fool, a particular fool. But I shall do it. Marry in haste andrepent at leisure!'

  'A porter's daughter become Lady Dunborough!' cried Mr. Thomasson withscathing sarcasm.

  'Oh yes, my tulip,' Mr. Dunborough answered with gloomy meaning. 'Butthere have been worse. I know what I know. See Collins's Peerage, volume4, page 242: "Married firstly Sarah, widow of Colonel John Clark, ofExeter, in the county of Devon"--all a hum, Tommy! If they had saidspinster, of Bridewell, in the county of Middlesex, 'twould have beenas true! I know what I know.'

  After that Mr. Thomasson went out of Magdalen, feeling that the worldwas turning round with him. If Dunborough were capable of such a step asthis--Dunborough, who had seen life and service, and of whose past heknew a good deal--where was he to place dependence? How was he to trusteven the worst of his acquaintances? The matter shook the pillars of thetutor's house, and filled him with honest disgust.

  Moreover, it frightened him. In certain circumstances he might havefound his advantage in fostering such a _mesalliance_. But here, notonly had he reason to think himself distasteful to the young lady whoseelevation was in prospect, but he retained too vivid a recollection ofLady Dunborough to hope that that lady would forget or forgive him!Moreover, at the present moment he was much straitened for money;difficulties of long standing were coming to a climax. Venuses andTitian copies have to be paid for. The tutor, scared by the prospect, towhich he had lately opened his eyes, saw in early preferment or awealthy pupil his only way of escape. And in Lady Dunborough lay hismain hope, which a catastrophe of this nature would inevitably shatter.That evening he sent his servant to learn what he could of theMastersons' movements.

  The man brought word that they had left the town that morning; that thecottage was closed, and the key had been deposited at the college gates.

  'Did you learn their destination?' the tutor asked, trimming hisfingernails with an appearance of indifference.

  The servant said he had not; and after adding the common gossip of thecourt, that Masterson had left money, and the widow had gone to her ownpeople, concluded, 'But they were very close after Masterson's death,and the neighbours saw little of them. There was a lawyer in and out, astranger; and it is thou
ght he was to marry the girl, and that that hadset them a bit above their position, sir.'

  'That will do,' said the tutor. 'I want to hear no gossip,' And, hidinghis joy, he went off hot-foot to communicate the news to his pupil.

  But Mr. Dunborough laughed in his face. 'Pooh!' he said. 'I know wherethey are.'

  'You know? Then where are they?' Thomasson asked.

  'Ah, my good Tommy, that is telling.'

  'Well,' Mr. Thomasson answered, with an assumption of dignity. 'At anyrate they are gone. And you must allow me to say that I am glad ofit--for your sake!'

  'That is as may be,' Mr. Dunborough answered. And he took his firstairing in a sedan next day. After that he grew so reticent about hisaffairs, and so truculent when the tutor tried to sound him, that Mr.Thomasson was at his wits' end to discern what was afoot. For some time,however, he got no clue. Then, going to Dunborough's rooms one day, hefound them empty, and, bribing the servant, learned that his master hadgone to Wallingford. And the man told him his suspicions. Mr. Thomassonwas aghast; and by that day's post--after much searching of heart andlong pondering into which scale he should throw his weight--hedespatched the following letter to Lady Dunborough:

  'HONOURED MADAM,--The peculiar care I have of that distinguished andexcellent gentleman, your son, no less than the profound duty I owe tomy lord and your ladyship, induces me to a step which I cannot regardwithout misgiving; since, once known, it must deprive me of theinfluence with Mr. Dunborough which I have now the felicity to enjoy,and which, heightened by the affection he is so good as to bestow on me,renders his society the most agreeable in the world. Nevertheless, andthough considerations of this sort cannot but have weight with me, I amnot able to be silent, nor allow your honoured repose among the storiedoaks of Papworth to be roughly shattered by a blow that may still beaverted by skill and conduct.

  'For particulars, Madam, the young gentleman--I say it with regret--hasof late been drawn into a connection with a girl of low origin andsuitable behaviour, Not that your ladyship is to think me so wanting in_savoir-faire_ as to trouble your ears with this, were it all; but theperson concerned--who (I need scarcely tell one so familiar with Mr.Dunborough's amiable disposition) is solely to blame--has the wit toaffect virtue, and by means of this pretence, often resorted to bycreatures of that class, has led my generous but misguided pupil to thepoint of matrimony. Your ladyship shudders? Alas! it is so. I havelearned within the hour that he has followed her to Wallingford, whithershe has withdrawn herself, doubtless to augment his passion; I am forcedto conclude that nothing short of your ladyship's presence and advicecan now stay his purpose. In that belief, and with the most profoundregret, I pen these lines; and respectfully awaiting the favour of yourladyship's commands, which shall ever evoke my instant compliance,

  'I have the honour to be while I live, Madam,

  Your ladyship's most humble obedient servant,

  'FREDERICK THOMASSON.

  '_Nota bene_.--I do not commend the advantage of silence in regard tothis communication, this being patent to your ladyship's sagacity.'