VIII.—APATHY OF GENERAL FORSTER.
On the same morning, the Earl of Derwentwater, accompanied by the countess and Dorothy, and attended by Charles Radclyffe and Captain Gordon, but without any guard, rode down to the Ribble Bridge.
While the earl was inspecting the bridge, and the ladies were admiring the river, and the view of the town from the spot, their attention was aroused by the sound of horse's footsteps, and immediately afterwards a man galloped up.
He would have ridden on, but Captain Gordon stopped him, and led him to the earl. It appeared that he had left Wigan early in the morning, and brought very important intelligence. General Wills was undoubtedly there, and, having been joined by six more regiments of dragoons on the preceding evening, it was certain he would make immediate arrangements to attack the insurgents, so that they must be prepared for him.
On receiving this intelligence, the earl at once returned to the town, and proceeded to General Forster's quarters, but could not see him, as the general had not yet risen, being much fatigued by the ball.
Instigated by the countess and Dorothy, the earl determined to take all the responsibility upon himself, and ordered Charles Radclyffe to take his regiment to defend Ribble Bridge. But before the order could be obeyed, Forster appeared and countermanded it.
“It seems to me,” said the general, “that my authority is set at naught. A man has been shot as a spy by Brigadier Mackintosh without consulting me, and now orders are given that a guard shall advance towards Wigan. I suppose the next order will be that the whole army shall get ready to march.”
“It ought to be,” said Dorothy. “You are loitering here far too long, and will be surprised by the enemy. Are you aware that General Wills has just been joined by several more regiments?”
“I do not believe a word of it,” rejoined Forster. “Had such been the case, I should certainly have been informed of it.”
“But a scout has just returned from Wigan,” cried the countess. “We have seen him, and spoken with him. Will you not question him yourself?”
“'Tis needless,” said Forster. “The man has been imposed upon.”
“Then you will neither march against the enemy, nor take any steps for the defence of the town?” cried the Earl of Derwentwater.
“Not unless I receive accurate intelligence,” rejoined Forster. “I am under no apprehension.”
“Was there ever such obstinacy?” exclaimed the earl, turning away in disgust. “Nay, 'tis in vain to reason with him,” he added to the countess.
“Your lordship will understand,” said Forster, “that tomorrow I shall commence the march to Manchester.”
“To-morrow we shall not be able to leave Preston,” rejoined the earl.
“We shall see,” replied Forster, laughing. “Meanwhile, I recommend you to make the most of your time, and enjoy yourself while you can. There is another banquet at the town-hall to day.”
“For the last time, I ask you if you are resolved not to move?”
“Not till to-morrow,” replied Forster, positively. “I am about to give general orders to that effect.”
And he quitted the room.
The countess and Dorothy looked aghast.
“What is to be done?” cried the former.
“Nothing,” replied the earl. “Nothing can be done. We are doomed.”
The announcement that the general did not mean to continue his march south till the morrow was very agreeable to the majority of the army—indeed a great many of the gentlemen troopers hoped that when the morrow came there would be another delay. They were quite as infatuated as the general, and spent the greater part of the day in the society of the ladies, A large party collected on the Ribble Bridge, but it was with no intention of defending it.
Another banquet was given at the town-hall, to which the leaders and officers were bidden. Amongst the few ladies invited, were the Countess of Dervventwater, Dorothy Forster, and Mrs. Scarisbrick. Since the last-mentioned lady was present, the general was quite happy, and perfectly indifferent to the future.
Besides this festive meeting, there were innumerable tea-parties, where the gentlemen troopers were very agreeably entertained; while the Mitre, the White Bull, and the Windmill were filled to overflowing with guests.
With this pleasant evening passed away the gaieties of Preston. No more flirting—no more carousing. All merriment was over.
The morrow's sun arose on a day of strife and slaughter.