The Smile of the Stranger (16 page)

“Oh, he be wholly wrapped up in his politics these days,” Partridge said disparagingly. “He takes precious little heed o
’
what goes on about him; an
’
nothing at all o
’
the female sect!
While as for my lady, if the General was willing to give her five hundred pounds, so she could pay off some of her debts, I believe
shed
be willing to give houseroom to King Lucifer hisself
...
But now, here we are, coming in to Winchester, miss; Jem coachman have made famous time, I declare! We shall have a tiddy while to wait, I dare swear, afore the carriage comes from Flintwood, for
‘
tis not yet noon, so we mid as well please ourselves and have a bit o
’
nuncheon at the King
’
s Head tavern.”

“Good gracious, are we arrived already? I had not thought the journey could pass so quickly,” said Juliana.

She gave Jem coachman a crown, and laid out some of the rest of her last guinea on a meal at the inn: a leg of mutton, a boiled batter pudding, a rabbit smothered in onions, and an apricot tart; of which delicacies Partridge also deigned to partake. Then, observing her grandfather
’
s carriage pull up outside the King
’
s Head (which was also the designated place of assignation), Juliana impulsively gave all the rest of her money to Partridge, and thanked her for her company.

“I am sorry to have been the cause of your being obliged to take such a long, tedious journey, Partridge; and I wish you as speedy a one home again.”

To her astonishment, Partridge gave her a hearty kiss.

“Bless your thoughtful heart, miss! And I
’
m sorry I was a mite twitty at first set-out. Now, don
’
t you put yourself in a pelter about what
’
s past, but mind what your grandpa says, and comport yourself like a pretty-behaved young lady, and you
’
ll do well enough.”

With which parting advice she skipped up onto the box beside Jem coachman, and the
Lambourn
chariot, with fresh horses, was soon on its way back toward London.

Juliana reflected that Partridge was the only member of her aunt
’
s household to have bade her a friendly farewell; indeed, the only one who had troubled to say goodbye at all.

Abigail, the little maid from Flintwood, had been dispatched to bear Juliana company, and seemed unaffectedly delighted to see her again;
“ ’
Twill be a pleasure to have you back, miss; the house have been uncommon quiet since you went away!” she said.

“
How is my grandfather?” Juliana nervously inquired. "Did he seem very angry when he received the news that I was returning?”

“Well, miss, I believe he
was
in a bit of a taking; thumped upon the table, and vowed his family would all drive him mad among them; but do not you be downhearted, miss, he will soon come about, I am sure.”

Juliana devoutly hoped so; and in the meantime she endeavored to restore her spirits by gazing out at the countryside, which became more beautiful with every mile they traveled. Soon they were among the noble trees and great rides of the New Forest; and well before dusk they had arrived at Flintwood.

Juliana, looking out as they drew up before the house, could see no one waiting to receive her on the steps, but she had hardly expected a welcome, and knew she must not repine.

Mrs. Hurdle, the housekeeper, came bustling along to greet her in the hall, however.

“Well, there, miss! Lunnon have put roses in your cheeks, to be sure! Still, Sir Horace is bound you
’
ll be tired arter your journey, so you
’
re to have supper on a tray in your room, and he
’
ll see ye tomorrow. I
’
ve a nice broth for ye, and there
’
s a pan of coals a-warming your bed this very minute.”

Which Juliana took to be an intimation that the General could not be bothered with her that night. She did feel tired and stiff, after her early start, and was not sorry to postpone the interview with her grandfather until the following day. Thankfully she partook of Mrs. Hurdle
’
s venison broth and apple pie, bathed in a tub before the leaping flames of her bedroom fire, and slipped between the deliciously warm sheets.

It was plain, next morning, that Lord Lambourn must have written a fulminating letter about the troubles attendant upon Juliana
’
s visit, for the confrontation with her grandfather was every bit as disagreeable as she had feared. The General made no attempt to conceal his displeasure at Juliana
’
s return to Flintwood.

“A fine mull you have made of it, my girl, you and your cork-brained aunt; I might have known I could not entrust such a business to Caroline. Lambourn tells me you have properly disgraced yourse
l
f—made yourself the talk of the town. And then that diabolical woman had to turn up—it is the outside of enough. It would serve you justly if I was to wash my hands of you, let me tell you! Going for balloon rides with one of the Prince of Wales
’
s cronies—in heaven
’
s name, gal, what persuaded you to such a piece of folly?”

“Sir, it was the only thing to be done. It was on the journey from France, and my father—”

“Don
’
t tell me about that!” he said very unfairly. “You know I have said I do not wish to hear. Nor about this Macaroni, Count van What
’
s-his-name, who has made your name a nayword!”

“Sir, the Count is not a Macaroni, but a man of sense and feeling. He—”

“Hush, girl! Not a word from you. Hold your tongue and listen to what I have planned for you. I should have handled the business from the start. That notion of your aunt
’
s to marry you to Feverel was quite ineligible—can
’
t imagine why she encouraged
him.
A man of my age
—he
’
d
never keep you in order! Why, you
’
d have the poor fellow worn to a raveling inside of a month. No, no, that would never have done.”

Relieved that her grandfather was at least in agreement with her on one point, if for the wrong reason, Juliana remained silent as he took a turn about the room, with his hands clasped under his coattails, then stopped to announce, “Since your aunt has failed to find a respectable husband for you, and in order to keep you out of your rapacious mothers clutches, I have resolved to marry you to a man of
my
choice.”

Juliana opened her mouth to protest, to object, to bring up the name of Captain Davenport—but her grandfather
’
s look was so threatening, with compressed mouth, flashing blue eyes, and jutting white eyebrows under knotted brow, that, for the moment, she held her peace. And, after all, what had she to say about Captain Davenport? All she possessed were hopes.

The General continued.
“
There is a distant connection of mine—a widower—son of my cousin Hortense by her first marriage. He was my aide-de-camp in the American war
—
and
that
was a cursed mismanaged business if ever there was one,” he broke off to mutter irrelevantly. “However
I
have not seen the fellow since then, but he was a very decent sort, and I believe he has done tolerably enough in government service. He will be just the husband for you, miss! Old enough to stand no nonsense from you—a steady, settled sober man of middle age.”

“
But, sir,” replied Juliana, so firm in her intention of not acceding to her grandfather
’
s plan in any way that she did not trouble to inform him what a very repulsive picture he was painting of this eligible suitor,
“
if you have not seen this gentleman since the American war, which took place nineteen years ago, how do you know he has not remarried?”

“
Amn
’
t I
telling
you? Do not be continually interrupting me, miss! He was married at eighteen—wife died of typhoid fever—striken with sorrow—wouldn
’
t look at another woman
—
vowed never to marry again.”

“
Then—if he has taken so firm a resolution—how can he possibly be brought to marry me—someone whom he has never even laid eyes on?”

“
Don
’
t you worry your head
—
I’ll
soon persuade him!” growled her grandfather.
“
I daresay he
’
ll heed what
I
say soon enough. Always had a regard for the young whelp, and he for
me
...
”

Sir Horace heaved a sudden sigh, thinking of those far-off
times in the American war, and for a moment he looked a much younger man.

“What is this gentleman
’
s name? And where does he reside?” coldly inquired Juliana, thinking how unlikely it was that by any persuasions a confirmed and disconsolate widower should be brought to marry again. Her grandfather would be disillusioned soon enough; the man was certain to object to the plan; as Partridge had said, there was no need for Juliana to put herself in a taking.

“His name is Augustus Arpel. And as for his residence, I do not know it; I told you, he is working for the government as a courier; they will know where to find him at the Foreign Office. He always had a clever head. Ay, ay, he
’
ll do famously,” Sir Horace muttered to himself. “I
’
ll invite a letter to him directly, before I set out for Beccles.”

“Beccles, sir?”

“Ay, miss, Beccles. I was to have set off today—a fine deal of trouble you have put me to. On account of your cantrips I was obliged to defer my departure by a day, which was not at all convenient, let me tell you.”

And Sir Horace informed Juliana, who listened in some dismay, that Lord
Lambourn
’
s express had caught him on the eve of his annual departure to visit his estates in Norfolk, where he proposed staying for five or six weeks.

She was not at all happy at the thought of remaining at Flintwood alone.

“Oh, sir! May I not accompany you?”

“No, you may not, miss! Are you clean out of your wits? A fine time of it I would have with you along, getting in my way at every turn. No, no, you must bide here, sew your sampler and mind your book—learn to ride on horseback—occupy yourself somehow—you had best get Hurdle to instruct you in her housekeeping ways. You have only yourself to thank, after all! Had matters been otherwise you would have been in town accompanying your cousins to all their ridottos.” And the General bustled off to harry the servants about his packing, insult Clegg by rechecking all the meticulously arranged estate papers which he would take with him, and give Mrs. Hurdle unnecessary instructions as to the huge hamper of provisions with which he was equipped for the visit to his manor house at Beccles. Juliana discovered with relief that he would not be passing through London, but would travel by way of Oxford and Cambridge, where he proposed to spend nights with old friends; so that at least he would not hear any more tales of her own and her mother
’
s misdoings in the me
tropolis.

His train of two carriages, one for himself and one for servants and baggage, departed before noon, and Juliana was left to her own devices in the house, which suddenly seemed singularly large and empty, and notably silent, once the General
’
s energetic presence had been removed from it.

However the sun shone; the birds sang; daffodils were tossing their yellow heads in the formal garden to the side of the house; it would be folly to spend her first day restored to this beautiful spot in entertaining dark thoughts of kidnapping, adultery, theft, and attempted murder; instead Juliana ran upstairs and put on Miss Ardingly
’
s renovated velvet riding habit, then repaired to the stable, where she told Goatcher, the head groom, that she had her grandfather
’
s permission to learn to ride on one of the quieter horses, and asked which he would recommend.

“Bless you, missie, the powny that rolls the lawns and drives
‘
ud carry you a fair treat while you
’
re a-learning, and he
’
s mild an
’
biddable as an old kitchen table. I
’
ll have him saddled up in the shake of a lamb
’
s tail.”

So the pony was brought out, and Juliana happily spent the rest of the day walking, trotting, falling off, laughing, and remounting; by dusk she had three times risen to the trot, and was stiff, triumphant, and exhausted.

“We
’
ll have ye out cubbing, come autumn time, missie,” said Goatcher. “Now you
’
d best go and have a bath and ask
Mrs. Hurdle to put some of her bean-flower essence in it, else you
’
ll be eating your breakfast off
’
n the mantelshelf
!
”

While Juliana was eating her solitary supper that evening, Mrs. Hurdle said, “There, missie, I clean forgot, in all the scuffle of Masters going, there
’
s been a letter as came for ye two days agone; since you was expected home, we kept it for you.”

Captain Davenport! was Juliana
’
s first hopeful, joyous thought; but when she opened the folded paper she saw that it was signed
“
John Murray
”
and was from the publisher
’
s office in Albemarle Street. The writer expressed his great regret at having been absent from the office on the occasion of Miss Paget
’
s visit, and his grief at the news of her father
’
s untimely death; went on to praise
The Vindication of King Charles
I
in terms of the most unqualified enthusiasm; hoped that if Miss Paget herself ever considered taking pen in hand to formulate some literary or historic essay, she would honor Mr. Murray by allowing him to be its first reader; and lastly begged her to accept the enclosed draft, which was moneys outstanding on the last book by Mr. Charles Elphinstone; the advance on the new book would be prepared and ready for forwarding during the next few weeks. “Your esteemed father s life of Villiers sold very well,” Mr. Murray concluded, “and I am very certain that this new work will do even better.”

Out from between the pages fluttered a draft for eight hundred pounds!

Juliana was so astonished by this that she sat for many minutes regarding it in silent amazement. Was this, she fleetingly wondered, the reason for her mother
’
s persistent interest
—
the wish to profit from her ex-husband
’
s works? But, no, that seemed too improbable. She showed the note to Mrs. Hurdle, who presently came to take her tray.

“Look at this, Mrs. Hurdle! It is money that my father earned by his book writing
!
”

“Well, there, miss, fancy that! He always was a clever one, the young master. Mr. Clegg will cash that for you, I daresay, and then you can buy yourself a new pelisse. I wonder that your auntie never saw you properly fitted out while you was in town.”

“Oh, my old one will do for down here,” said Juliana. However, she did take the draft to Clegg, who promised to cash it for her at a bank in Winchester, and meanwhile gave her fifty pounds on account.

“Though what I will do with fifty pounds down here,” Juliana said, laughing, “it has me in a puzzle to imagine!” However, she tucked the notes into a pocket which, country
-
fashion, she wore under her skirt
.

Several days now passed in peaceful occupations: Juliana continued with her riding lessons, helped Mrs. Hurdle mend the household linen and make new aprons for the maids, picked spring flowers in the garden, walked in the forest, and read extensively in her grandfather
’
s library. She could see, now, where her father must have acquired his taste for history; the library at Flintwood was singularly well furnished in that respect; some historically minded member of the family must have expended great pains in acquiring an impressive number of volumes, and Juliana happily spent her evenings in this room, climbing up and down the steps, candle in hand. The only volumes lacking from the collection, she sometimes sadly thought, were her father
’
s own works.

On the fifth day, as she was trotting the garden pony across the grass sward at no great distance from the house, and was endeavoring, without success, by means of thumps from a hazel wand, to persuade him to change his heavy trot to a canter, she noticed a horseman coming up the drive. He came closer; she could recognize him now; it was Captain Davenport! Seeing her, he took off his hat and waved it; then turned his horse in her direction. So they met in the middle of the grass.