Our Admirable Betty: A Romance

by Jeffery Farnol

CHAPTER XXX

CONCERNING CHARLES, EARL OF MEDHURST

If my lady Betty was of a determined temper, my lord of Medhurst was no less so; being set on ridding his sister of his dangerous presence he contrived, so soon as her back was turned, to effect his exit through the window by means of his bed-clothes and sundry odds and ends of rope and cord he had found in the attics.

Darkness having fallen, the frantic search for him being over and the coast at last clear, the earl proceeded to squirm and clamber out of the disused water-butt that had been his hiding-place, knocked the dust and cobwebs from his person (dressed somewhat roomily in a suit of Viscount Merivale's clothes) and glided away into the shadows of the garden swift and silent as any ghost. Reaching the wall he scaled it lightly, paused to sweep off his hat and to blow a kiss towards his sister's window, then dropped into the lane; followed it a little way and, turning aside into the fields set off at a smart pace. Very soon he reached a small wood and had advanced but a little way in among the trees when his quick ears warned him that others were here before him; a bush rustled at no great distance and he caught the sound of a voice hoarse and subdued:

"... heard someone behind us I say!"

"'Twere a bird Joe, wood be full of 'em. 'Taren't our man, he'll come by th' field-path—hist! What's yon?" My lord's eyes sparkled as, settling his hat more firmly, he loosened sword in scabbard and stepped daintily into the open. Then came a sudden rustling of leaves, the muffled thud of hasty feet, and, by light of the rising moon, his lordship saw a tangle of vague forms, that twisted and writhed, and arms that rose and fell viciously; out came his steel and with the long, narrow blade a-glitter he leapt forward shouting blithely as he ran. He was close upon the combatants when one staggered and fell, another was beaten to his knees and then the earl was upon them. Now a light small-sword is an awkward weapon to meet the swashing blows of heavy bludgeons; therefore his lordship kept away, avoiding their rushes and fierce strokes by quickness of foot and dexterity of body; twice his twinkling point had darted vainly but his third thrust was answered by a snarling cry of pain and incontinent his two assailants took to their heels, whereupon his lordship uttered a joyous shout and leapt in pursuit but was staggered by a blow from behind and, reeling aside, saw his third assailant make off after the others. My lord feeling suddenly faint and sick, cursed feebly and dropped his sword then, hearing a groan near by, staggered across to the fallen man.

Thus Sergeant Zebedee presently opening his eyes looked up into the face above him, a face pallid in the moonlight and with a dark smear of blood on the cheek. Hereupon the Sergeant blinked, sat up and stared.

"Zounds!" he exclaimed. "If you ain't the poacher as vanished into air all I say is—Zooks!" His lordship nodded and smiled faintly.

"How goes it, Sergeant?" he questioned, swaying strangely from side to side as he knelt.

"A woundy rap o' the nob d'ye see lad, and more o' the same front and rear, but no worse thanks t'you and now—Gog and Magog, hold up lad! What, ha' they got you too?" His lordship tried to laugh but failing, smiled instead:

"Got me—aye!" he mumbled, "I—almost think—I'm going——" The words ended in a sigh and my lord Medhurst slipped limply to the ground and lay there. Muttering oaths in English, French and Dutch the Sergeant set hands to throbbing head and staring blankly about spied the sword near by; took it up, examined the point instinctively and nodding grimly contrived to set it back in scabbard. Then taking the inert figure in practised hold lifted him to broad shoulder and trudged sturdily off; but as he went the throbbing in his head seemed like hammer-strokes that deafened, that blinded him; yet on he strode nor paused nor stayed until the welcome lights of the Manor gleamed before him. As he plodded heavily on, he became aware of a voice hailing him above the thunderous hammer-strokes and he paused, reeling:

"Zeb, Sergeant Zebedee!"

"Here, sir!" he gasped hoarsely. Next moment the Major was beside him:

"Suffer me, Zebedee," said he, and taking the insensible form in his powerful arms, led the way into the house and so to the library, the Sergeant plodding doggedly in his rear. Laying his inert lordship upon a settee, the Major summoned Mrs. Agatha, who, seeing the Sergeant bruised and bloody screamed once, below her breath, and immediately became all womanly dexterity. Softly, swiftly she bustled to and fro; first came cordials and glasses, thereafter a bowl of water, sponges and soft linen and very soon beneath her able and gentle ministrations the earl sighed, opened languid eyes and sitting up, stared about him while Mrs. Agatha promptly turned her attention to the battered Sergeant.

"Faith, sir," said my lord apologetically, "I—I fear I was so foolish as to swoon——"

"But saved my life first, your honour," added the Sergeant, dodging Mrs. Agatha's sponge to say so, "and winged one o' the rogues into the bargain."

"Then sir," said the Major, "my deepest gratitude is yours. Sergeant Zebedee is—is an old comrade of mine a—a comrade and—and so forth as 'twere, my lord Medhurst."

Here the Sergeant blinked and opened his mouth so wide that Mrs. Agatha felt impelled to promptly fill it with the sponge.

"I trust sir," continued the Major, "you feel yourself a little recovered of your hurts?"

"O infinitely sir—quite, quite!" answered the earl and getting to his feet, staggered and sat down again. "A small vertigo sir, a trifling dizziness," he explained, more apologetically than ever, "but 'twill soon pass."

"Meantime," suggested the Major, viewing his pallor with sharp eyes, "I will, with your permission, send and notify my lady Carlyon of her brother's welfare."

Here, by reason of astonishment and Mrs. Agatha's sponge the Sergeant spluttered and choked:

"As to that sir," answered the earl, fidgeting, "I—faith! I had rather you didn't. And indeed, since you know who I am, 'twill be immediately apparent to you that the farther I am from Betty and the sooner I quit your roof, the better for all concerned——"

"On the contrary, sir," said the Major, "'tis for that very reason I offer you the shelter of my roof until——"

A rush of flying feet along the passage without, a fumbling knock and the door flying open discovered one of the maids her eyes round and staring in fearful excitement:

"Soldiers!" she cried, "O sir—O Mrs. Agatha—'tis the soldiers—all round the house—lanthorns and guns—I do be frighted to death!"

Mrs. Agatha dropped the sponge and uttering no word, pointed one plump finger at the frightened girl and stamped her foot; and before that ominous finger the trembling maid shrank and turning about incontinent fled, slamming the door behind her. For a breathless moment none moved. Then Medhurst rose a little unsteadily, glancing round rueful and helpless.

"So then—'tis ended!" he sighed. "My poor, sweet Bet! And you sir—you—my God, I must not be taken here for your sake!" and he sprang towards the window.

"Stay sir," said the Major gently, "'tis no use, the house is surrounded of course. Aye, I thought so——!" He nodded as in the dark beyond the curtained windows came the measured tramp of feet, a hoarse command and the ring of grounded muskets.

"Sir—sir," exclaimed Lord Medhurst, "God forgive me that I all unwitting as I was, should bring you to this black hazard."

"Nay, my lord," answered the Major, smiling into the earl's troubled face, "grieve not yourself on my account, 'twas I brought you hither knowing who you were, so do not reproach yourself, 'tis but the fortune of war. Hark, they are here, I think——"

"Then I'll go meet 'em!" said his lordship, "I'll give myself up—they shall never—take me!"

"Well said, sir," nodded the Major, his brow unruffled and serene, "we'll go together! Pray, Sergeant, open the door!"

"Don't, Sergeant, don't!" panted Mrs. Agatha, "wait—O—wait!" Thus, speaking, she sped across the room and, kneeling before the great fireplace, seemed to feel along the carved foliage of the mantel with frenzied fingers, then uttered a gasp of satisfaction: "Quick—quick my lord!" she panted. And even as she spoke the great hearthstone sank down endwise turning upon itself and disclosing a narrow flight of steps. The earl uttered a sound between a laugh and a sob, turned aside to take up hat and sword and, descending into the gloomy depths, glanced up blithe of eye and waved his hand as the stone swung back into place above him.

Then Mrs. Agatha rose, dusted her silken gown with her pretty white hands and curtseyed:

"Your honour," said she, "with your leave, I'll run out to my poor, silly, frighted maids!" and taking up bowl and sponges while the Sergeant opened the door, she rustled away. With the door still in his hand, Sergeant Zebedee turned to stare at the Major and found the Major staring at him.

"Sir," said he at last, "sir, she's—a——" here he paused to shake solemn head, "sir, she's the—sir—she—is—a—woman!"

"Zeb," answered the Major, sinking into a chair, "she—most—undoubtedly—is!"

But now the house was full of strange stir and hubbub, the tread and tramp of heavy feet, the clatter of accoutrements, and the ring of iron-shod muskets on stone-flagged hall.

"Sir," questioned the Sergeant, putting on his wig and re-settling his rumpled garments, "shall I go out to 'em?"

"Do so, Zeb, and bring the officer to me—here, in the library."

The officer in question, a tall and languid exquisite, found the Major at his desk, who, setting aside his papers, rose to give him courteous greeting.

"Ged, sir," he exclaimed returning the Major's stately bow, "you'll f'give this dem'd intrusion I trust—I'm Prothero, Captain o' Cleeve's, your very dutiful humble. You are Major d'Arcy, I think?"

"The same, sir, and yours to command."

"Let me perish, sir, 'tis an honour to meet you I vow and protest. Colonel Cleeve hath spoke of you—I've heard of you in Flanders also. All o' which doth but make an unpleasant duty—dem'd unpleasant. Regarding the which I may tell you that my lord Colonel is so put out over the business that he hath absented himself until our search here shall be over. But this Jacobite f'low is known to be i' these parts and my orders are to search every house——"

"And orders are to be obeyed!" smiled the Major. "Let your men search, sir, and meantime a glass or so of Oporto perhaps——?"

"Ged sir, your kindness smites me t' the heart I vow."

The bottle having duly been brought and the glasses filled the Captain rose and proposed:

"Sir, I give you 'Our Admirable Betty!' 'Tis a health much discussed in these parts o' late I believe, sir," said he, "aye and in London too. And the dem'dest strangest part on't is the man we hunt is her own brother—no less, sir! And since he is so here's wings to his heels say I, curst Jacobite though he be. But when a man is blessed with such a sister damn his politics, say I. And O Cupid, sir, what a crayture! Her shape! Her air! Her pretty, little, dem'd demure foot! I give you her foot, sir. And the pride of her! The grace of her! The dem'd bewitching enchanting entirety of her. I vow 'tis the dem'dest, charmingest piece o' feminine loveliness that ever lured mankind t' demnition. Demme sir, she's the sort o' goddess-crayture that gets into a f'low's blood—goes t' f'low's head like wine sir, makes a f'low forget duty, kindred, country, honour and even himself."

"You have searched my lady's house, I take it?" enquired the Major.

"Faith we have so, sir,—and herself to light us up-stairs and down. So gracious sir! So très debonnaire! So smiling and altogether dem'd sedoocing—O Lard!"

On this wise the Captain held forth until the wine was all gone, and his corporal came to announce that the house had been duly and thoroughly searched from cellar to attic, without success: whereupon the Captain rose, shook the Major's hand—babbled forth more apologies in melting, mellifluous accents, roared at his men and finally marched them out of the house and away.