Georgette Heyer (53 page)

  'Then let us go there,' said Charles, deciding the matter without more ado.

  The Colonel sent his cousin and Robert Swan scouting ahead, and the whole party reached Symons's house, by a back way, at about candle-lighting time.

  The master of the house had not returned from Portsmouth, but provision had been made for the visi tors, and they had no sooner alighted from their horses than the door was opened, and a servant was begging them to step within.

  The Colonel went first, with Lord Wilmot. As he greeted his sister, who came across the hall to meet him, he heard the King say: 'Go before me, Robin: you look the most like a gentleman now!'

  The Colonel kissed his sister, devoutly trusting that she had not heard this irrepressible sally, and said: 'Well, you see how I have taken you at your word! Let me make Mr Barlow known to you, and Colonel Robert Phelips here, and Mr Jackson. I warrant you, we have all of us very good stomachs, and are like to eat you out of your house!'

  'You are all most welcome!' she assured them. 'A strange thing it would be if I could not provide supper for your friends! Please to come into the parlour, gentlemen. There is a good fire there, and you shall have some biscuits and sack presently.'

  She ushered them into a cosy room where the curtains had been drawn and the candles lit, and bustled about, setting stools and chairs for them, bidding them come close to the fire, and enquiring what sport they had had. My lord's fine air at once impressed her, and she was careful to offer him the best chair. She turned her hospitable attention next to the King, and for one anxious moment the Colonel feared that she had recognized him, so solicitously did she beg him to take the chair opposite my lord's. But it seemed that she was prompted only by kindness, for she presently found the opportunity to whisper in her brother's ear: 'The lad looks quite tired-out, and has not a bit of colour in those brown cheeks of his! So shy and silent as he is, too! I daresay he feels awkward in company, for he seems a very poor man, by his dress.'

  'Oh, let him be! He will speedily forget his shyness, if you pay him no extraordinary attention,' replied the Colonel. 'He is a tenant of Mr Barlow, and unused to going into company.'

  She soon saw that this must be so, for upon some wine and biscuits being brought into the room, although her brother and Tom Gounter both got up to hand the glasses for her, Mr Will Jackson remained seated, and apparently thought no shame to allow his seniors to wait upon him. Such manners did not suit Mrs Symons's notions; she thought that if he knew no better he might well be taught, and so said in a kind but firm voice: 'Come, Mr Jackson, you may pass the wine for me, if you will, and let my brother take his ease.'

  'Nay, he is tired!' said the Colonel hastily. 'Do not plague him, sister!'

  The King, however, got up at once. Mrs Symons noticed that although he had the grace to blush he seemed to be a good deal amused, for his heavy, dark eyes brimmed with laughter. She received a look from them which quite startled her, since it was not in the least the look of a shy youth, but rather that of an extremely audacious young man. 'I was dreaming,' he apologized, smiling at her in a way she found hard to resist. 'Sit down, Colonel, and leave all to me!'

  It seemed to Mrs Symons that her brother hesitated for an instant, but before she could be sure of it, he had sat down, and Will Jackson was taking one of the wine glasses out of her hand.

  It was not long before she was forced to alter her opinion of Will Jackson. He was certainly not shy. Indeed, the shyest member of the party seemed, unac countably, to be Tom Gounter, who made himself as small as he could in one corner of the room, and did not utter a word unless directly addressed. Will Jackson, on the other hand, though not talkative, had not the smallest hesitation in advancing any opinions he might chance to hold on the various subjects under discussion. He stood leaning his great shoulders against the mantel piece, and slowly sipping his wine; and whenever he chose to speak, in his surprisingly musical voice, the three older gentlemen broke off what ever they were saying to listen to him. Mrs Symons shook her head over the freedom accorded to the younger generation, and went away to superintend the preparations for supper.

  'I wish you would not all be so damned civil to me,' said the King. 'You will betray me yet.'

  The Colonel replied, with a pronounced twinkle in his eye: 'Well, sir, it is very hard for us to forget that you are the King, when
you
do not remember that you are a poor tenant of Mr Barlow.'

  A responsive laugh sprang to the King's lips. 'Very good, Colonel! But what have I done?'

  The Colonel shook his head. 'Alas, sire, it is no one thing, but everything you do. Even when you say nothing, your very looks are enough to betray you.'

  'Oddsfish, so high in the instep, am I? This is very ill hearing!'

  'No, no!' said Wilmot. 'He means not that. The truth is, sir, you are too careless.'

  'I will amend my ways.'

  Mrs Symons came back into the room just then to

summon the company to supper. She led her guests into another, and larger parlour, where covers were laid upon a round table, and begging them to sit as they pleased, called upon her brother to carve the cold capons. 'Indeed, I do not know what is keeping my good-man,' she said. 'However, he will be home pres ently, and there is no need to wait supper for him.'

  Halfway through the meal, the slam of a door, and the sound of a man's voice upraised in song proclaimed the return of Thomas Symons. He came across the hall to the dining-parlour, and thrusting open the door, stood blinking at the guests, and swaying a little on his heels. There was not the least need for anyone to enquire what had kept him: Mr Symons had plainly been in company that day.

  'Oho!' murmured the King, in Phelips's ear. 'Our host has been playing the good fellow at the tavern methinks!'

  Symons released the door, and trod carefully into the room, exclaiming, 'This is brave! A man can no sooner be out of the way than his house must be taken up with I know not whom!'

  'Husband!' said his wife. 'Mind your manners, I pray you!'

  'Capons, and hams, and sour prunes, and I know not what beside!' he said bitterly. 'This is what it is to live under the sign of the cat's foot! Ay, ay, when the good-man's from home the good-wife's table is soon spread!'

  Colonel Gounter pushed back his chair, and rose. 'Brother,' he said in some amusement, 'I think you have been in the sun!'

  Symons looked at him closely. 'Oh! Is it you?' he said. 'Well, you are welcome.' He added handsomely: 'And, as your friends, George, so are they all!'

  Wilmot muttered to his neighbour, Tom Gounter: 'This turns out very ill. The man may be dangerous to us.'

  'No, sir, indeed!' Tom said earnestly. 'It is a pity he should come home disguised tonight, but when he is sober he is as honest a man as any I know.'

  Symons, who had been shaking the Colonel by the hand released him, and began to walk round the table, owlishly inspecting the rest of the company. The sight of Tom Gounter made him say with a comprehensive sweep of his hand: 'These are all Hydes now. They are welcome.' He came next to the King, and stared very hard at him. He was apparently much struck by his short hair, for he announced in an indignant tone: 'Here is a Roundhead!' He turned to look reproachfully at his brother-in-law. 'I never knew you keep Roundheads' company before!'

  'It's no matter,' said the Colonel soothingly. 'He is my friend, and I'll assure you, no dangerous man.'

  Either this remark satisfied Symons, or a hazy notion of his duties as a host entered into his head, for after looking at the King again he suddenly sat down beside him, and grasping him by the hand, said: 'Brother Roundhead, for his sake you are welcome!'

  My Lord Wilmot sighed, for he had caught the gleam in the King's eye, and knew him too well to entertain the smallest hope of his bearing himself discreetly. He saw that Colonel Phelips had grown alarmingly red in the face, and was evidently on the point of bursting into an indignant protest, and frowned at him. Phelips muttered something inaudible, and bent resolutely over his plate.

  The King, meanwhile, allowed Symons to shake his hand up and down, and said: 'Brother, I thank you! I see you are an honest man.'

  'If any man says I am not, they shall answer for it!' declared Symons. 'By God, I am so honest a man that the sight of a cropped head affects me like a wasp in the nose! But if you are George Gounter's friend, no matter for that! I'll cut you a slice of capon.'

  'Nay, I pray you! No more, for I have eaten my fill,' said the King, recovering his hand.

  'One slice off the breast!' begged Symons, picking up the carving-knife. 'I warrant you, you shall find it as tender as a parson's leman.'

  'Nay, cut it for yourself, friend,' replied the King. 'I have come to the sweetmeats.'

  'Well, if you will not eat you may drink,' said Symons, grasping the blackjack. 'I'll give you a toast.' He refilled the King's glass, and rather unsteadily poured himself another. 'There's no deceit in a brimmer,' he remarked, as some of the ale spilled over the top of his glass. He winked broadly at the rest of the company, and, listing his glass, said: 'Here's to all good Roundheads! Drink up, drink up!'

  'I had rather knock under the board!' growled Phelips.

  The King's foot found his under the table, and trod upon it heavily.

  'I'll have no such toasts drunk in my house!' said Mrs Symons in a mortified voice. 'As for you, Thomas Symons, you have drunk enough!'

  He drained his glass, and set it down with a disgusted exclamation. 'This is poor stuff ! Oddsdeath, it goes against the shins with me to set such thin ale before guests! Wait now, I'll fetch down that which shall ease your stomachs!'

  He rose precariously to his feet as he spoke, and wended his way to the door. His wife said: 'Indeed, gentlemen, he is not often so, but having been to town, and run against his cronies, I daresay, you see how it is!'

  Lord Wilmot, who was seated beside her, said in his light, bored way: 'My dear madam, the man who had never a cup too much is no man for me.'

  'But I am concerned that he should take your tenant for a Roundhead!' she whispered. 'I hope he may not be offended!'

  'You need not be concerned on his account, madam,' replied Wilmot, casting a glance at the King, who was laughing at something Colonel Gounter had said to him.

  'I assure you, he has been a Royalist all his life,' persisted Mrs Symons. 'I know not what maggot can have got into his head to make him pretend other wise!'

  'Why, madam, I take it he means to put Mr Jackson at his ease. Never heed it!'

  Symons came back into the room with a dusty bottle in his hand. He declared that he would shortly amend all, and in spite of his brother-in-law's protests, insisted upon lacing the ale with the brandy the bottle contained. 'That'll make a cat speak!' he said, with satisfaction. 'Fill up, Brother Roundhead, and we'll drink some more good healths!'

  'If you will drink a health, let it be the King's!' said his wife.

  'What, madam!' exclaimed Charles, throwing up his hand. 'Drink the health of that rogue, that brought the Scots in! Fie, fie!'

  'You say well!' approved Symons, with yet another wink round the table. 'Ay, does your nose swell at that, cousin Tom? Go hang yourself for a pastime! we are all snuffling – nay, I mean we are all godly Puritans here.'

  He filled up the King's glass again, bidding him drain it, for there was plenty more. Colonel Gounter emptied his own glass, and swiftly exchanged it for the King's, while his cousin drew off Symons's attention.

  Mrs Symons, quite unable to sit by in quiet while her husband by his fits aped the manners of a Puritan, excused herself, and went off to rage unavailingly in her kitchen.

  'Now we may be merry!' said Symons. 'Commend a married life, Brother Roundhead, but keep thyself a bachelor!'

  'Yes, we bachelors grin, but you married men laugh till your hearts ache!' responded the King, edging yet another full glass towards Colonel Phelips.

  Tom Gounter, who was profoundly shocked at the turn events had taken, tried to engage his host in conversation, but only partially succeeded in diverting his attention from the King. The more he drank, the more convinced Symons became that he had a Roundhead in his house. The King did nothing to disabuse his mind of this belief, and whenever an oath escaped Symons, which was often, he rolled his eyes upwards and exclaimed: 'Oh, dear brother, that is a 'scape. Swear not, I beseech you!' Occasion ally Symons forgot his rôle, and not only uttered sentiments startlingly at variance with it, but tossed off bumpers to the King, wishing damnation to his enemies.

  'Nay, nay, he is a godless young man, and woundily ill-favoured besides!' the King assured him.

  'If a lie could have choked you, that would have done it!' said Symons, with the sudden ferocity of the drunk.