Georgette Heyer (36 page)

  Wilmot and Henry Peters arrived at the house while the King was eating his light repast. As soon as he saw Wilmot, the King toasted him, bidding him sit down at the table, and fall to. Wilmot said: 'Yes, yes, my dear master, but are matters in good train? Will the boat be at the appointed place tonight? When must we go to Charmouth?'

  'Be still, Harry, be still!' said the King. 'Matters are in excellent train, as I have been assured. Captain Ellesdon, advise me now what arrangements have been made between you and your mariner.'

  'There!' said Wilmot in his ear. 'I knew you would not trouble your head to make the least enquiry! Well, Captain? Well?'

  'Indeed, my lord, all has been most carefully attended to, I having repeatedly sought out the master of the barque, one Stephen Limbry, moving and pressing him so earnestly to the punctual performance of his promise, that he was even a little discontented at my importu nity, as betraying in me a suspicion of his fidelity. But I excused it, on one count and another, to his satisfaction, and this morning he was able to give me very comfort able tidings, that he had victualled himself, taken in his ballast, and haled his vessel out to the Cob's mouth, for fear of being beneaped. For you must know, my lord, that the tides are now at their lowest.'

  My lord showed plainly that tides meant nothing to him; but the King looked up from the apple he was peeling, and nodded. 'I know. When will the tide serve to take me off ?'

  'Sire, at midnight. The master will send his longboat to a very commodious place appointed between us, lying a full quarter of a mile from any house or foot path. And further, sire, Limbry has informed the sailors that my Lord Wilmot is a merchant, by name Mr Payne, and your Majesty his servant. Upon my advice, he has given as the reason for Mr Payne's taking ship at Charmouth at such an unseasonable hour, that he is a Town-Corporate, and fears an arrest, his factor at St Malo having broken him in the estate by his unfaith fulness to him.'

  The King put the peeled apple into Juliana's hand. 'There, my bride: is it sweet? – I thank you, Captain: you have served me faithfully.'

  'Then we need not go into Charmouth until it is dark,' said Wilmot.

  'But when we do go,' suggested the Colonel, 'I think it were best Ellesdon should not accompany us, but should instead ride back to Lyme, where he may see Limbry, and assure himself that the man will not fail us. That is, if your Majesty pleases.'

  Juliana had offered her apple to the King, and he was engaged in taking a bite out of it. A wave of the hand signi fied to the Colonel that he might make what arrangements he liked.

  It was eventually agreed that the Colonel's plan should be adopted. Shortly after ten o'clock, the party set out, the King taking leave of Captain Ellesdon at the point where the road branched, the western fork leading to Lyme, and the eastern to Charmouth. He bestowed one of his bored coins upon him, bidding him keep it in remembrance of him, a circumstance which made Wilmot say, when the Captain was out of earshot, that it was as well that his pilgrimage was approaching its end, since such prodigality must soon leave them once more penniless.

  The road to Charmouth led steeply down hill, the inn where the King was to lodge being situated at the bottom of the street, within sound of the sea. That the hostess's suspicions might not be aroused by the arrival of too great a company at her house, it was decided that only the King, Wilmot, and Juliana should alight at the Queen's Head, the Colonel, and his servant, going on to await the arrival of the ship's longboat at the place appointed.

  'And now,' said the King to Juliana, 'do not you forget, sweetheart, that I am the man of your choice! I think you should hang fondly upon me.'

  'Indeed, and so I will,' promised Juliana. 'But I misdoubt me the hostess will think I have run off with my groom. I am sure I am the first to elope with a King. Do you wish a meek bride, dear sir, or a bold one?'

  'For God's love, no boldness!' implored Wilmot. 'The whole of this business mislikes me! I think you do not realize the danger of it!'

  They had reached the inn-yard by this time. Wilmot heaved himself out to the saddle as an ostler came out of the stables with a lantern in his hand. My lord hailed him immediately. 'Come hither, fellow! Your mistress expects us. Take the horses in, and see them rubbed down and watered.'

  The ostler held up his lantern, peering at the King. 'If you be the party as is making off with a rich heiress, you are looked for,' he said rather dourly.

  'Oh, Will, shall we be safe here from my uncle?' demanded Juliana, clasping the King about the waist.

  'Ay, upon mine honour!' he responded promptly. 'Mr Payne, lift down my mistress, if you please!'

  As soon as Juliana had alighted, the King swung himself to the ground, and, pulling the bridle over the double-gelding's head, handed it to the ostler. The lantern swung level with his head, making him blink momentarily; he turned away, but not before the ostler had caught a glimpse of his face.

  A warm hand stole into the King's. 'Take me in!' Juliana begged.

  'With all my heart,' he said.

  The ostler started after them, holding the horses' bridles slack in his hand. 'That's a powerful big fellow,' he said slowly. 'Dark, too.'

  'Ay, we breed big men in Devonshire,' Wilmot replied, hiding his uneasiness under a casual manner.

  The ostler jerked up his lantern again, and by its light scrutinized Wilmot's countenance. 'What's your name, master?' he demanded.

  'It's Payne, but what concern of yours may that be?' said Wilmot.

  'No offence,' the ostler muttered.

  Wilmot hurried after the King, who had reached the door leading into the inn from the yard. Here he was met by a stout woman with a shrill voice, who cast an appraising glance from him to Juliana, and said with a sniff: 'One man's meat is another man's poison! I doubt you might say the like of women. Come you in, mistress!'

  Juliana stepped before the King into a dimly lit passage. Mistress Wade held a candle, and shaded its flame from the draught with her cupped hand. Beyond one cursory glance at the King, she paid no heed to him, but surveyed Juliana with evident approbation.

  'Ay, I blame no man for being wishful to make off with you, mistress!' she said. 'I'll warrant you've never lacked for suitors! There's a fire lit in my parlour, and the whole house to call your own. Ah me! I doubt I do wrong, but I'm a feeling woman, so I am, and a couple of lovers, so star-crossed as you be, is what I could never harden my heart to, come what may!'

  The parlour to which she led the star-crossed lovers was a little square, low-pitched room on the ground floor, to the right of the main door of the inn. The floor was uneven, paved with stone; and the mullioned windows were all tightly shut. A lamp was slung from one of the huge beams supporting the upper floor, and a couple of candles in brass candlesticks gave a little added light to the room. The air was close, slightly acrid with the smoke which now and then belched out from the log fire in the grate. A couple of straight backed chairs, one or two joint-stools, a dresser, and an oak-table, which rocked on the uneven floor, made up the furniture of the room, but Mrs Wade looked round her with a satisfied eye, saying: 'It's the best parlour, such as I don't use in the ordinary way, but I grudge nothing. There's a decent bedchamber beside. Ay, ay,' she added, shaking her finger at the King, 'look naughtily at me if you choose, young master, but I'll have you know I'm a decent woman, and my house has ever been respected! I know full well the knot's not tied yet betwixt you and your mistress here, and you'll not put her to bed under my roof, be you never so hot a lover!' His harsh, brown face, and cropped locks seemed to strike her. She clicked her tongue, and shook her head. 'Eh, if ever I saw such a great, black fellow! And you the dainty little lady that you be, my pretty! Ah well! they do say as how a black man's a jewel in a fair woman's eye!'

  'Oh, he is, he is!' declared Juliana, clasping her hands on the King's arm, and looking soulfully up into his face.

  Charles bent his head, and kissed her. He shot one of his wicked, merry looks at the hostess, saying meekly: 'I know I am an ill-favoured fellow, but I swear I have a good heart, mistress. Do you fetch a bottle of wine, and you shall drink to our happiness!'

  She was nothing loth; but when she had bustled out, Wilmot said peevishly: 'I wish you will not be so free, sir! A vulgar creature that will try to nose out all your business, I'll swear! I misliked that ostler, moreover, for he took particular note of your being a tall, dark man. Faugh, how that fire reeks!'

  'My poor Harry! I do fear I shall never again prevail upon you to go adventuring with me!'

  Wilmot's face softened; he replied: 'I pray God there may never again be the need for such a journey as this!'

  'For my part, I could wish it might go on for ever!' said Juliana, putting off her cloak. 'I am not afraid, my lord, and I am sure the good woman has not the least notion who my bridegroom may be.'

  Mrs Wade soon came back with a bottle, and four thick glasses, which she set down upon the table, after giving them a polish with her apron. The King knocked the top off the bottle, and filled the glasses. He raised his own to Juliana, saying: 'My pretty bride!'

  'My black jewel!' returned Juliana, with a gurgle of laughter. 'Good mistress, shall I know happiness with my Will, think you?'

  'Maybe you will, maybe you won't. There's more 'longs to marriage than four bare legs in a bed, my dove, and so I warn you!' She looked the King over, and added somewhat grimly: 'One thing I'll tell you, and that is certain: the maid that is wedded to a lad with a roving eye shall know no quiet all the days of her life.'

  'Alas, Will!' mourned Juliana, catching the King's hand, and dropping her forehead on to his arm to hide her laughing face.

  'Can you blame my eye to rove towards you?' demanded the King of his hostess. 'I warrant it is not the first eye to do so!'

  She shook with comfortable mirth. 'Go to, I know you for a rogue.'

  She drank up her wine, and at last went away, much to Wilmot's relief. He walked to the window, parting the curtains a little to look out. The moon was just past the full, but the night was cloudy, and nothing could be seen beyond the leaded panes but murk and vague shadows. The sound of waves breaking on the shore was muffled by distance; but the wind moaned a little round the angles of the house, and whistled under the ill-fitting door. Wilmot began to fear an approaching storm, and was only partly reassured by the King's saying that the breeze was but freshening, and was, besides, very favourable for their voyage.

  Charles had brought a pack of cards with him from Trent House; he and Juliana began to play cribbage. Wilmot could not be persuaded to join them, or even to sit by the fire and take his ease. He was restless, his mind troubled by the chances of failure. He walked up and down, sometimes watching the card-players for a few moments; often begging them to be silent so that he could listen intently for some fancied sound.

  His anxiety began to communicate itself to Juliana. Once, glancing up from her cards, she thought that she caught a glimpse of an eye looking at her through the chink between the curtains. She cried out in sudden fear, and dropped her cards, but when Wilmot strode to the window and peered out, he could see no one there.

  'Doubtless, it was the eye of providence,' remarked the King. 'Come, my bird! It was naught but a trick of the light.'

  She picked up her cards with shaking hands. 'It must have been that. Yet I could have sworn I saw some thing!'

  'I will soon see that!' said Wilmot, drawing the curtains exactly together. 'Do you remain here, sir, if you please!'

  'Oddsfish, what else should I do?' enquired the King, bored.

  Wilmot went out of the room. There seemed to be no one stirring in the inn. A lamp burned low at the foot of the narrow stairs, but the taproom was in dark ness. After listening for a moment, and hearing only the sigh and scuffle of the wind, Wilmot opened the street door, and stepped out. The clouds hid the moon, but there was enough light to show him that the street was quite empty. He stood still for a few seconds, looking about him. No sound came to his ears but the rhythmic fall and drag of the waves; the wind was strong, but not as tempestuous as he had feared. He noticed that it was blowing off the land, and felt a little comforted. He went back into the inn, and was about to return to the parlour when the creak of a floor-board made him look quickly over his shoulder. The dim lamplight left the end of the passage in darkness, but he thought some thing moved by the door leading into the stableyard, and strode forward, his hand instinctively seeking his sword-hilt. 'Who's there?' he said sharply.

  A sullen voice answered him: ''Tis me, master, who else would it be, this time o' night?'

  Wilmot stopped, saying sternly: 'What's the meaning of this? Why are you skulking in the house? Your place is in the stables!'

  The ostler came slowly into the light. He held his head down, but shot my lord a covert look upwards under his pale-lashed eyelids. 'I bain't skulking. I come in for to tell your honour that the bay has a shoe loose.'