My lady of Cleeve

by Percy John Hartley

Once, however, in the open air I paused; and then, with no fixed intention in my mind, I slowly crossed the yard and peered in at the open stable; and here, indeed, a surprise awaited me, for a horse, which I recognized as belonging to the young baronet, and upon which he had twice visited the manor, was standing unsaddled in the nearest stall.

Wrapped in thought, I stood staring at the animal before me. From the inn came a confused babel of voices, the clatter of crockery, the clink of cups, and now and again a burst of laughter. But to all this I gave no heed, for my brain was thinking deeply. What was Sir Rupert Courtenay doing here? And, seeing that he lived but some three miles distant, for Clevedon Hall was the old mansion I had seen from the summit of Cleevesborough nestling in the trees, what purpose could he have in putting up his horse at the village inn? That he was bound for the manor I did not doubt. But would any man forsake his horse at the village to walk the remainder of the way on foot? The idea was preposterous. And then I remembered his confusion at the colonel’s words, and the appointment he had mentioned, and a sudden light broke on me, and all was plain. He had come to meet my lady, was in her confidence, a sharer of her schemes! Dolt that I was, not to have thought of it before! He had come to meet my lady—but where?

A few moments thought, and it flashed upon me like an inspiration.

At the beginning of the village, where the parkland surrounding the manor ceased and the first scattered houses of the street began, parallel with the road, a narrow winding path ran through the woods. I had stumbled upon it by accident when first I came to Cleeve, and though I fancied it was seldom used, save by the servants of the manor in their errands to and from the village, ’twas an ideal spot, I vow, in which to hold a tryst. Aye, and as the memory of it grew upon me the very spot itself was mirrored clear before my eyes.

At one place in the wood, where the pathway widened to an open clearing, a little rustic bridge was thrown across a stream. ’Twas here, if anywhere, that they were like to meet. If only I could make my way to this spot unperceived and conceal myself in the vicinity, it was more than likely that I should learn the meaning of these mysteries. True, ’twas not an honourable part to play eavesdropper, but I consoled myself for what misgivings I had upon the subject with the thought that all was fair in war, and that if the part was thus forced upon me, why, ’twas my lady herself who was to blame for it.

With my resolution formed, I roused myself for action. I knew that for the execution of my project I had time to spare, for I was well assured, however urgent were his orders to advance, the colonel would not yet release his guest. Accordingly, unnoticed by any one within, I passed across the yard and gained the village street, threading my way between groups of men and horses, until I stumbled at length upon the man I sought, the one-eyed sergeant of my troop, and to him I gave instructions to secure my horse and to choose a dozen men on whom he could rely, and with these, upon the regiment’s departure, to take possession of the inn and to await my further orders.

He saluted in return, and I watched his burly figure go clanking down the street. Then satisfied that I had at least one tried and cunning soldier to uphold me, I continued on my way.

When I had left the village behind me and had reached the woods, I turned sharply to the right, and at a distance of some two hundred yards from the road I came to the entrance of the little path. As I stepped into the cool shadow of the trees, I paused irresolutely, as a sudden thought struck me. What if it was not my lady he had come to meet, but Mistress Grace! I had seen enough with my own eyes to convince me that there was a warmer feeling existing between them than mere cousinly affection. Was all my cunning scheme to end in witnessing a lover’s meeting?

Almost I had persuaded myself that this was indeed the case, and I was strongly tempted to retrace my steps. But the memory of the dark, mysterious vessel I had seen deterred me from my purpose, and again I set my face resolutely towards the house, and at the next turning in the path I came upon something by which my ardour was considerably stimulated, for fluttering from a thorn bush beside the track was a shred of scarlet cloth.

I took this tell-tale witness in my hand and closely examined it. It was of the same material as the coat I wore, and had been but recently torn from its wearer, for now that I gazed about me, my suspicions roused, in a patch of moist turf at my feet I saw the fresh print of a man’s spurred heel. I gazed eagerly ahead; but the pathway so wound and twisted that I could not see a dozen feet before me—only the hot sun slanted through the leaves above and fell upon the thickets of brier, and bush and bracken that walled me in on either side with a hedge of emerald green.