Complete Works of Bram Stoker (317 page)

“Oh hush, hush, dear... By the way what am I to call you  —  darling?” For the moment he was taken aback. To give her his own name as yet would be to break the resolution of present secrecy; to give her a false name now would be sacrilege. His native Irish wit stood him in good stead:

“That is the name for to-day  —  darling. There can be none like that for to-day. We began with it. It took me on its wings up to heaven. Let me stay there  —  for to-day. For to-day we are true husband and wife  —  are we not?” ‘Yes dear!” she answered simply. He went on:

“To-morrow... we can be grave to-morrow; and then I can give you another name to use  —  if you wish it!”

“I do!” she said with reverence. She accepted and returned the kiss which followed. This closed the incident, and for a little space they sat hand in hand, his arm again round her whilst again she had linked her arm in his. Presently he said:

“And now Joy dear, won’t you tell me all about yourself. You know that as yet you and I know very little about each other’s surroundings. I want specially to know to-day dear, for to-morrow I want to see your father and it will be better to go equipped.” Joy felt quite in a flutter. At last she was going to learn something about the man she loved. She would tell him everything, and he would... Her thoughts were interrupted by her companion going on:

“And then to-morrow when we have talked I can tell you everything...” “Everything!” then there was something to conceal! Her heart fell. But as the man continued, her train of thought was again interrupted: “When you see him to-night you had better...”

Suddenly she jumped to her feet in a sort of fright. Seeing her face he too sprang up, giving, with the instinct of his campaigning a quick look around as though some danger threatened:

“What is it Joy? What is wrong?...” She almost gasped out: “My father! He will be home by seven! It must be late in the afternoon now and we are more than a hundred miles from home!...” Athlyne in turn was staggered. In his happiness in being with Joy and talking of love he had quite overlooked the passing of time. Instinctively he looked at his watch. It was now close on four o’clock. Joy was the first to speak:

“Oh do let us hurry! No one knows where I am; and if when Daddy gets home and finds I am not there he will be alarmed  —  and he may be upset. And Mother and Aunt Judy too!... Oh do not lose a moment! If we do not get home before they arrive... and Daddy finds I have been out all day with you... Oh, hurry, hurry!”

Athlyne had been thinking hard whilst she spoke, and his thoughts had been arranging themselves. His intelligence was all awake now. He could see at a glance that Joy’s absence might make trouble for all. Colonel Ogilvie was a man of covenance, and his daughter’s going out with him in such a way was at least unconventional. She must get back in time! His conclusion was reached before she had finished speaking. His military habit of quick action asserted itself; already he was replacing the things in the carriage. Joy saw, and with feverish haste began to help him. When he saw her at work he ran to the engine and began to prepare for starting. When that was ready he held Joy’s coat for her and helped her into her seat. As he took the wheel he said as he began to back down the road which was hardly wide enough to turn in:

“Forgive me, dear. It was all my selfish pleasure. But we shall do all we can. Bar accident we may do it; we have over three hours!” He set his teeth as he saw the struggle before him. It would be a glorious run... and there was no use forestalling trouble... Joy saw the smile on his face, recognised the man’s strength, and was comforted.

They backed into the road and sprang southward. Without taking his eyes off his work, Athlyne said:

“Tell me dear as we go along all that I must bear in mind in speaking to your father of our marriage...”

“There! It was out unconsciously. Joy thrilled, but he did not himself seem to notice his self-betrayal. He went on unconcernedly:

“It may be a little uphill at first if we do not get in line in time.” Joy looked under her lashes at the strong face now set as a stone to his work and kept silence as to the word. She was glad that she could blush unseen. After a little pause she said in a meek voice:

“Very well, dear. I shall tell you whenever we are on a straight bit of road, but I will be silent round the curves.” They were then flying along the old coach road. The road was well-made, broad and with good surface and they went at a terrific pace. Athlyne felt that the only chance of reaching Ambleside was by taking advantage of every opportunity for speed. Already he knew from the morning’s journey that there were great opportunities as long stretches of the road were level and in good order and were not unduly impeded with traffic. The motor was running splendidly, it seemed as if the run in the morning had put every part of it in good working order. He did not despair of getting to Ambleside in time. The train was not due at Windmere till seven. And it might be a little late. In any case it would take the arriving party a little while to get their things together and then drive to Ambleside. As they were sweeping down towards the bridge at Dairy he said to Joy without looking round: “It will be all right. I have been thinking it over. We can do it!” “Thank God!” she exclaimed fervently. She too had been thinking. “Stop!”

“The voice rang out imperiously; and a policeman, stepping from behind the trunk of a great beech, held up his hand. Instinctively Athlyne began to slow. He shouted back “All right!” He had grasped the situation and as they were out of earshot of the policeman said quickly to Joy:

“We are arrested! Oh, I am sorry darling. If they won’t let me pay a fine and go at once you must take the car on. I shall try to arrange that. But do be cautious dear  —  you are so precious to me. If you are delayed anywhere and can’t make it in time wire to your father tell him you are motoring and have been delayed. It will soften matters, even if he is angry. I shall go on by train in the morning. And darling if you are not getting on as you wish, take a train the best you can  —  a special. Don’t stop at any expense. But get on! And don’t tell your name to any one, under any circumstances. Don’t forget the telegram if delayed.” As he was speaking the car was slowing and the panting policeman was coming up behind. When the car stopped, Athlyne jumped out and walked towards the officer; he wanted to be as conciliatory as possible.

“I am very sorry, officer. That beautiful bit of road tempted me; and being all quite clear I took a skim down it?”

“Ye did! Man, but it was fine! But I hae to arrest ye all the same. Duty is duty!”

“Certainly. I suppose the station is across the bridge?”

“Ave sir.” The policeman, who at first sight had from his dress taken him for a chauffeur, had by now recognised him as a gentleman.

“Will you come in the car? It’s all right. I’ll go slow.”

“Thank ye sir. I’ve had a deal o’ walkin’ the day!” When the man was in the tonneau Athlyne who had been thinking of what was to be done said to him affably:

“It was silly of me going at such a pace. But I wanted my wife to see how the new car worked.” He had a purpose in saying this: to emphasise to Joy the necessity of not mentioning her name. It was the only way to keep off the subject when they should get to the station. Joy turned away her head. She did not wish either man to see her furious blushing at hearing the word. She took the hint; silence was her cue.

At the station Joy sat in the car whilst Athlyne went inside with the officer. The sergeant was a grave elderly man, not unkindly. He too recognised, but at once, that the chauffeur was a gentleman. There was an air of distinction about Athlyne which no one, especially an official, could fail to appreciate. He was not surprised when he read the card which Athlyne handed to him. He frowned a little and scratched his head.

“I fear this’ll be a bit awkward my lord. Ye come frae o’er the Border and ye’ll hae to attend the summons at New Galloway. I dinna want to inconvenience you and her ladyship but...”

“Will it not be possible to let the car go on. My wife has to meet her father and mother who are coming up to Ambleside to-night, and they will be so disappointed. Her mother is an invalid and is coming from Italy. I shall be really greatly obliged if it can be managed.”

The sergeant shook his head and said slowly:

‘“Tis a fine car. A valuable commodity to take out of the jurisdiction and intil a foreign country.” Athlyne had already taken out his pocket-book. Fortunately he had provided himself well with money before coming north.

“I paid a thousand pounds for the car. Will it not suit if I leave that amount in your custody.” The official was impressed.

“Losh! man what wad I be daen wi’ a thoosan poons in a wee bit station like this, or carryin’ it aboot in me claes. Na! na! if ye’ll de-po-sit say a ten poon note for the guarantee I’m thinkin’ ‘twill be a’ reet. But how can the leddy get ava; ye’ll hae to bide till the morn’s morn.”

“Oh that’s all right, officer, she’s a licensed driver. Unhappily she has not got her license with her. She left it in Ambleside as I was driving myself and had mine.” He said this to avert her being questioned on the neglect; in which case there might be more trouble about the pace.

“Ooh! aye. Then that’s a’ reet! A maun ax her masel forbye she mayn’t hae the license aboot her. Wimmen is feckless cattle anyhow!”

“Do you think sergeant she may get away at once. It is a long drive, and the day is getting on. I shall be very grateful indeed if you can manage it!” The sergeant was still impressed by the pocket book.

“Weel A’ll see what A can dae!” He went outside with Athlyne to the automobile, and touching his cap said:

“Yer pardon ma leddy, we’re the wife o’ the defender?” Joy was glad that she had put on the motor veil attached to her cap.

“Yes! My husband told you, did he not?” she said. The thrill that came to her with the speaking of the word “husband” she kept for later thought The sergeant answered respectfully:

“He did ma leddy. But as an offeecial o’ the law I hae to make sure as ye’re aboot to travel oot o’ the jurisdiction. He says ye hae left yer licence at hame; but as ye hae answered me that ye are his wife I will accept it, an’ ye may go. The defender remains here; but I’m thinkin’ there’s a chance that he may no hae to remain so lang as he’s fearin! Ma service to ye ma leddy.” He touched his cap and went back into the station.

Athlyne came forward and said in a low voice, for the policeman who had effected the arrest was now standing outside the door “You will be careful darling. You may be able to do it But if you are late and your father be angry say as little as you can. Unhappily I must remain here, but I shall do all I possibly can to settle things quietly. I shall follow in the morning; but not too early. Don’t forget to wire your father if you are delayed anywhere, or are certain to be late. For my own part I shall leave proof everywhere of my own presence as we shall be in different countries!” He said this as it occurred to him that if she should be delayed it might later avert a scandal. Then he spoke up for the benefit of the policeman:

“As the time is so short, and we have learned the lesson of the danger of going too fast, you might ask when you get to Carlisle whether it is not quicker to return by Penrith and Patterdale. That way is some miles shorter.” The policeman who had heard  —  and had also seen the pocketbook  —  came close and said with a respectful touch of his cap:

“If A may make sae bold, the leddy can save a wheen o’ miles by takin’ the road to Dumfries by Ken Brig an’ Crocketford up yon. A saw ye the morn comin’ up there.” Athlyne nodded and touched his pocket; the man drew back into the station. One last word to Joy:

“I wish you knew the machine darling. But we must take chance for all going well.” As he spoke he was turning the starting handle. Joy in a low voice said:

“Good bye my darling!” Resolutely she touched the levers, and the car moved off quietly to the “God bless you!” of each.

Athlyne watched the car as long as it was in sight; then he went back into the station. He spoke at once to the sergeant.

“Now sergeant is there nothing that can possibly be done to hasten the matter. You see I have done all I can to obey rules  —  once having broken them. I am most anxious to get back home as I have some very important business in the morning. I shall of course do exactly as is necessary; but I shall be deeply obliged if I can get away, quietly, and double deeply to you if you can arrange it”

“Well ma lord I dinna think yell hae much trouble or be delayed o’er lang neither. For masel A canna do aught, but A’m thinkin that the Sheriff o’ Galloway himsel will be here ony moment. He nearly always rides by when the fair at Casde Douglas is on, as it is to be in the morn. A’ll hae a sharp look oot for him. He’s a kind good man; an A’m thinkin that he’ll no fash yer lordship. He can take responsibeelity that even a sargeant o’ polis daurn’t. So it’s like ye’ll get ava before the nicht.”

Athlyne sat himself down to wait with what patience he could muster. Once again nature’s pendulum began to swing in his thoughts; on one side happiness, on the other anxiety. The delight of the day wherein he had realised to the full that Joy indeed loved him, even as he loved her; the memory of those sweet kisses which still tingled on his lips and momentarily exalted him to a sort of rapture; and then the fear which was manifold, selfish and unselfish. She might get into any one of many forms of trouble if only from her anxiety to reach home before the arrival of her parents. She was, after all, not a practiced driver; and was in control of the very latest type of machine of whose special mechanism she could know nothing. If she should break down far from any town she would be in the most difficult position possible: a girl all alone in a country she did not know. And all this apart from the possibility of accident, of mischance of driving; of the act of other travellers; of cattle on the road; of any of the countess mishaps which can be with so swift and heavy a machine as a motor.

And then should she not arrive in time, what pain or unpleasantness might there not be with her father. He would be upset and anxious at first, naturally. He might be angry with her for going out on such a long excursion with a man alone; he would most certainly be angry with him for taking her, for allowing her to go. And at such a time too! Just when everything was working  —  had worked towards the end he aimed at. He knew that Colonel Ogilvie was and had been incensed with him for a neglect which under the circumstances was absolute discourtesy. And here he bitterly took himself to task for his selfishness  —  he realised now that it was such  —  in wanting to make sure of Joy’s love before consulting her father, or even explaining to him the cause of his passing under a false name. Might it not be too late to set that right now... And there he was, away in Scotland, kicking his heels in a petty little police station while she poor girl would have to bear all the brunt of the pain and unpleasantness. And that after a long, wearying, wearing drive of a hundred miles, with her dear heart eternally thumping away lest she might lose in her race against Time. And what was worse still that it would all follow a day which he did not attempt to doubt had been, up to the rime of the arrest, one of unqualified happiness. “... nessun maggoir dolore Che ricordasi del tempo felice Nella miseria.”