III.
As we hurried along the road I made up my mind as to my course of action. I would go to the Manor House and warn my uncle and Alison of their danger, and leave with them John and Humphrey as a bodyguard. That done I would make my way across the fields and through Carleton to Fairfax’s camp before Pomfret. I would tell him of my wayside adventure, and beg his protection for Sir Nicholas and my cousin, and straightway return to East Hardwick. My credentials were from Cromwell himself—I felt assured that Fairfax would grant any request I made to him. One thing, however, was certain—I could not, although it was my strict duty to do so, go forward to Pomfret without giving my relations warning of their danger.
Neither John nor Humphrey were lads of many words, and so there was little talk between us till we came to the Manor House. It stood gaunt and gloomy against the sky, and dark as the night was, I saw the king’s flag still flapping against the staff above the gable. There was a faint light in one or two of the windows that overlooked the garden, but in the courtyard everything was dark. The great door was fast, and the stone lions above it seemed to threaten us as we tried the latch. But there were holes in the wall that had served me for stepping-stones to the top many a time, and within a minute we were on t’other side and making softly for the house door. It was some minutes before any response came to our knock, but at last we heard the shuffle of feet within, and then Jasper’s voice asking who we were. Now we were not minded to shout and bawl so that folk in the street could hear us, if any were about, so I put my lips to the great keyhole and calling Jasper by name, whispered to him my own. I heard him utter some sound of great surprise, but he began to undo the bolts and bars, and presently held the door open a few inches and looked out at us from over his lanthorn. “The Lord ha’ mercy!” says he, “I thought it must be your spirit, Master Richard. And is that John and Humphrey Stirk that’s with you? But we thought you was at the wars and——”
“Let’s in, Jasper,” says I, pushing my way past him with John and Humphrey close at my heels. “And hark ye, Jasper, bolt and bar the door again—is every door and shutter secure for the night?”
“Lor-a-massy, Master Dick, is there aught wrong? Yes, indeed, Master Dick, everything is fast for we’re abiding in parlous times and never know who’s about. But——”
“Go round the house, Jasper,” says I. “Say naught to anybody, but go round and see that all’s fast. Bolt, bar, and chain—we may have to stand a siege this night. And now let’s within—where is Mistress Alison?” But ere he could answer me the door into the great kitchen opened, and Mistress Alison herself stood before us. She carried a lamp in one hand and held it up as she stopped on the threshold to look at us. Faith, I shall never forget her as she was at that moment, looking as proud and impatient as only a woman of her sort can!
“Who——?” she says, staring from Jasper to us, with a haughty interrogation in her eyes and the curve of her mouth. “Ah!” she says, suddenly recognising me. “Mr Richard Coope,” she says, and stares straight into my eyes with a contempt that brought the blood to my face.
“Mistress,” says I, hurriedly, “this is no time for talk nor for quarrels. By chance or providence I have learned that Sir Nicholas and yourself are in great peril, and I have come here to warn you of it, and have brought John and Humphrey to protect you.”
“Indeed,” says she. But she stood there in the doorway making no offer to permit us into the kitchen.
“Let me see my uncle,” says I. “He must be warned of his peril at once.”
“Your uncle is in his bed, sir,” she answers, still keeping her place. “He is ill, and is not to be disturbed by anyone.”
“Then let me see you within, mistress, that I may tell you my news,” says I.
“You can tell it to me here, sir,” she says.
“Then, by God, I won’t!” I raps out, losing my temper under her provocation. “Look you, cousin, I am perilling myself to serve you, and you treat me like a dog! Is it mannerly to keep me and my friends standing here as if we were beggars?”
I saw the colour flash into her cheeks at that, and she stepped back into the kitchen with a motion to us to follow. As we came into the glare of the lights I noticed, though it was no time for thinking of such matters, that her beauty was of the rarest sort and had deepened since I had last set eyes on it. She stood by the fire, one hand resting on the back of a chair, the other still holding the lamp—faith! ’twas the prettiest sight to see her thus with her fine gown and the dainty slippers peeping from beneath it, and her face turned to me with the scorn still lingering in the delicate lines of her mouth.
“Now, sir?” says she.
But I glanced at the lads who waited in one corner. “What we have to say is private,” says I. “Is there no more private room in the house than this?” I says. But she would take no hint, only she nodded her head to the serving-lads and they slunk into the scullery.
“Madam,” says I, “you seem to forget that I am Sir Nicholas’s nephew and a gentleman.”
She turned and looked me from head to foot and from foot to head. “A renegade!” she says, and looks straight into my eyes. “Your news, sir! I have no time to waste in bandying compliments or exchanging opinions.”
“Faith, madam,” says I, “but you’ve no objection to applying epithets. But renegade or no, I am here to serve you and my uncle, and so I’ll tell you all about it,” and I straightway proceeded to give her a faithful account of all that I had overheard in the kitchen at Reuben Trippett’s old farmstead. She heard me without a sign or a word, save that when I mentioned Anthony Dacre’s name her lip curled with a rare scorn (’sdeath, I wish he had been there to see it!) and her white fingers closed tighter over the rail of the chair. But when she had heard me to the end, and I had told her my plans for their protection, she did not soften a whit, but looked at me with the same cold, hard dislike.
“I thank you, sir,” says she, very icily. “It was the act of a gentleman to warn us.” She seemed to melt there somewhat. “And now I will not trouble you to delay your departure longer”—she hardened again—“we are in no need of assistance.”
“Nay,” says I, “but that’s just what you are in need of, mistress! ’Tis foolish to belittle your danger—Anthony Dacre——”
“I have no fear of him,” says she, very contemptuous, in her own high manner. “And as for Fairfax’s troopers, they will not gain admittance to the house. I myself will see to the bolts and bars.”
“But,” says I, “’tis not a matter of bolts and bars that will prevent them. Bethink you, they will force an entrance and seize Sir Nicholas.”
“He is ill in his bed,” says she. “They cannot move him.”
“They will stop at naught,” says I. “Come, cousin, be advised. Let John and Humphrey stay with you, and allow me to return as quickly as I can. ’Tis what my uncle would do.”
“I am able to think for myself, sir,” says she. “And I have come to my own opinion in the matter. And so I thank you for your good offices and decline your further help.”
And there she stood, still looking disdainfully at me, as if I had been some upstart that had dared to address her. “Here’s a pretty coil!” says I, and looks at John and Humphrey. “By your leave, madam,” I says, and pulls my two companions aside. “What shall we do?” I says. “If we leave this spirited lass to have her own way there will be mischief. What do you advise?” And we all three looked at each other.
“Why,” says John at last, “I should pay no manner of heed to her.”
“Nor me,” says Humphrey.
“’Tis a man’s job,” says John.
“Aye,” says Humphrey.
“If I were you, Master Dick,” says John, “I should call in Jasper and Gregory and the lads, tell ’em the trouble, and take counsel for defending the house. As for me and Humphrey,” he says, “here we stay while need be.”
“Well said,” says Humphrey.
But I was half afraid as I turned to Mistress Alison.
“Madam,” says I, very respectful, “I am sorry to do aught against your will, but I have taken counsel with my friends here, and for your own sake and for my uncle’s, I cannot agree to your wishes. And so, mistress, you must be pleased to leave this matter in my hands to settle as I please.”
“What,” she says, “you dare——”
“Madam,” says I. “No daring about it. You will please to regard me as master in this house, my uncle being a-bed, and leave me to do what I think good. John and Humphrey,” I says, “get the men together, and let us set the matter before them,” and as they made for the scullery I turned and gave her a long stare. She flushed crimson from neck to forehead, and looked at me with a sudden rage.
“How dare you!” she says. “How dare you!”
“Cousin,” says I. “I dare aught. I know what you think of me, and for that I neither care nor fret. But when it comes to a contest ’twixt us I am not going to be beaten by a woman. And so I’ll let you see which of us two is the stronger. Faith!” I says, “’tis for your own good. Renegade as I am, I’m perilling my neck to save you.”
She stood looking at me with more wonder than I had ever seen in a woman’s eyes. “I am mistress here,” says she at last.
“Not while I am master,” says I, coolly. “And as I have but a short ten minutes wherein to be master I shall exact the strictest obedience. Dare but to question one of my orders, madam, and I shall have you locked in your chamber.” And with that I gave her a look that was meant to be as hard as one of her own, and marched forward to meet old Gregory, who was coming in with the others. But ere I could speak to him in runs one of the lads to say that four men on horseback were asking admission at the courtyard door. “They’re here!” says John Stirk. And so there I was caged, with Cromwell’s despatch in my doublet that should by that time have been delivered to Fairfax. “Present needs first!” says I, and I settled down to the business of the moment.
| Chapter IV | Of Various Events of Importance which took place during one night, and caused us considerable Uneasiness and other Emotions. |