A cutting east wind lay in wait for them as they came out from the shelter of the buildings, a wind that tore at Audrey's cloak, and wrestled with the black furze bushes on the heath, till they heaved and swayed like chained monsters striving to break loose. In spite of herself, Audrey felt her courage flag. So much of it was merely due to her natural buoyancy of health and spirits, and the sauciness of a petted girl who had seldom known reproof. Now that she had taken such a rash step, she began to doubt and fear. Her defiance had not drawn off the enemy's forces. Had it been of any advantage at all? Was she riding to prison for a mere fancy? Why should she scruple to tell a white lie for once? But the lie would only secure her own freedom; the constables would still hunt the country for Harrison, while now, she at least divided their numbers and their suspicions. But suppose Richard was so mad as to wait for news of her! Suppose he thought it cowardly to fly and leave her in the lurch! Suppose he fell into another of those despairing fits and threw himself into peril out of mere recklessness?
"Ah me!" she sighed, "I know not how to order my own life, and here I have a brother as well as a father to think for too!"
It was not an outburst of vanity; she had so long tended her grandfather, and her father, that the only attitude she could conceive to a new friend, was that of adopting him as some one else to be taken care of. Even while she trusted to his strong right hand to be her guard on her journey, she could not believe he could plan that journey without her help.
The sandy road across the heath was hard with frost, and the little party trotted swiftly on, and before an hour was past, the lights of Hunstanton twinkled before them. At Justice Tomkins' door there was a halt, and the clerk dismounted, and went to seek his employer's instructions; he came back in a few minutes with a perturbed face, and called the constable into the hall to a consultation. Tom Abbes' sturdy voice was audible to Audrey, as she sat outside.
"If so be as his worship won't be disturbed, 'tis no fault of ourn. And us can't put she in the lock-up; all the country would cry shame on us," grumbled the good-natured constable.
"If only I had seen the justice before he dined, and had taken his instructions!" sighed the clerk.
"See now, take her over to the Royal Oak; thee canst doo no wrong that way," councilled Tom. "If justice won't attend to business, why, justice must pay the bill."
A few steps more and the little party came out from the sheltered street, and the full force of the wind met them with a mingled dash of foam-flakes and sand. Half-blinded, Audrey was lifted from her horse, and staggered into the shelter of the deep porch—a porch she knew only too well. The Perrient arms were gone that once presided over the stately entrance to Sir Gyles Perrient's house, and a great signboard, daubed with a gaudy representation of an oak-tree, creaked as it swung in the shrill night wind, but in all else her grandfather's mansion was unchanged. Here was the home where she had reigned queen at Hunstanton—where she had loved and been loved! The house and its mistress had alike fallen on evil times; the mansion was an inn, and Audrey Perrient was a prisoner!
Mr. Reed's summons was answered by the buxom landlady, whose cheerful voice resounded through the house before she appeared at the door.
"Stars o' mine! what's that you say? Justice Tomkins in liquor? That's no new tidings! What! Mistress Perrient without, with Tom Constable! I'll never credit it! Stars o' mine! Justice must have been pretty drunk before he sent you off on such a fool's errand! You should see to him, Mr. Reed! But there! set a beggar on horseback, and we all know where he'll ride to! Come your ways in, Mistress Perrient, my dear, and don't you take on! 'Tis enough to make Sir Gyles get out o' his grave, it is! Why it makes me swimmy like! 'Tis a pity Justice Lestrange is out of town; but, for sure, 'twill be all right in the morning, when our fine new justice is out of his cups, and fine and shamed he'll be, I warrant! Will you please to come upstairs, madam. 'Tis strange to show you the way in your own house as should be; but times do change, and if 'twere your own house you couldn't have a cleaner hearth, nor fairer linen, nor one readier to serve you! And what will you take to your supper, my dear? Just a drop of mulled elderberry wine with a toast in it, to keep out the cold—and a wing of a capon, now, couldn't you seem to fancy? Or anything else you could give a name to, it would just be an honour to my house, Mistress Perrient, my dear—madam, I should say; and here's Sally with a hot posset, and that you shall taste whether you drink it or no. Why, Tom Constable, what are you a-doing of? Turn the key on Mistress Perrient? Do you reckon my house is a lock-up? That's a rare hearing! Not while I am missis here! What's that you are grumbling? Tell justice on me! Tell him and welcome; but stand out o' the way while Molly brings in the feather bed."