The Castle Inn

Chapter 10

MOTHER AND SON

Lady Dunborough stood, as if turned to stone by the news. In the great

hall below, a throng of servants, the Pitt livery prominent among them,

were hurrying to and fro, with a clatter of dishes and plates, a

ceaseless calling of orders, a buzz of talk, and now and then a wrangle.

But the lobby and staircase of the west wing, on the first floor of

which she stood--and where the great man lay, at the end of a softly

lighted passage, his door guarded by a man and a woman seated motionless

in chairs beside it--were silent by comparison; the bulk of the guests

were still at supper or busy in the east or inferior wing; and my lady

had a moment to think, to trace the consequences of this inopportune

arrival, and to curse, now more bitterly than before, the failure of her

attempt to eject the girl from the house.

However, she was not a woman to lie down to her antagonists, and in the

depth of her stupor she had a thought. Her brow relaxed; she clutched

the maid's arm. 'Quick,' she whispered, 'go and fetch Mr. Thomasson--he

is somewhere below. Bring him here, but do not let Mr. Dunborough see

you as you pass! Quick, woman--run!'

The maid flew on her errand, leaving her mistress to listen and fret on

the stairs, in a state of suspense almost unbearable. She caught her

son's voice in the entrance hall, from which stately arched doorways led

to the side lobbies; but happily he was still at the door, engaged in

railing at a servant; and so far all was well. At any moment, however,

he might stride into the middle of the busy group in the hall; and then

if he saw Thomasson before the tutor had had his lesson, the trick, if

not the game, was lost. Her ladyship, scarcely breathing, hung over the

balustrade, and at length had the satisfaction of seeing Thomasson and

the woman enter the lobby at the foot of the stairs. In a trice the

tutor, looking scared, and a trifle sulky--for he had been taken from

his meat--stood at her side.

Lady Dunborough drew a breath of relief, and by a sign bade the maid

begone. 'You know who is below?' she whispered.

Mr. Thomasson nodded. 'I thought it was what you wished,' he said, with

something in his tone as near mutiny as he dared venture. 'I understood

that your ladyship desired to overtake him and reason with him.'

'But with the girl here?' she muttered. And yet it was true. Before she

had seen this girl, she had fancied the task of turning her son to be

well within her powers. Now she gravely doubted the issue; nay, was

inclined to think all lost if the pair met. She told the tutor this, in

curt phrase; and continued: 'So, do you go down, man, at once, and meet

him at the door; and tell him that I am here--he will discover that for

himself--but that the hussy is not here. Say she is at Bath or--or

anywhere you please.'

Mr. Thomasson hesitated. 'He will see her,' he said.

'Why should he see her?' my lady retorted. 'The house is full. He must

presently go elsewhere. Put him on a false scent, and he will go after

her hot-foot, and not find her. And in a week he will be wiser.'

'It is dangerous,' Mr. Thomasson faltered, his eyes wandering uneasily.

'So am I,' the viscountess answered in a passion. 'And mind you,

Thomasson,' she continued fiercely, 'you have got to side with me now!

Cross me, and you shall have neither the living nor my good word; and

without my word you may whistle for your sucking lord! But do my

bidding, help me to checkmate this baggage, and I'll see you have both.

Why, man, rather than let him marry her, I'd pay you to marry her! I'd

rather pay down a couple of thousand pounds, and the living too. D'ye

hear me? But it won't come to that if you do my bidding.'

Still Mr. Thomasson hesitated, shrinking from the task proposed, not

because he must lie to execute it, but because he must lie to

Dunborough, and would suffer for it, were he found out. On the other

hand, the bribe was large; the red gabled house, set in its little park,

and as good as a squire's, the hundred-acre glebe, the fat tithes and

Easter dues--to say nothing of the promised pupil and freedom from his

money troubles--tempted him sorely. He paused; and while he hesitated he

was lost. For Mr. Dunborough, with the landlord beside him, entered the

side-hall, booted, spurred, and in his horseman's coat; and looked up

and saw the pair at the head of the staircase. His face, gloomy and

discontented before, grew darker. He slapped his muddy boot with his

whip, and, quitting the landlord without ceremony, in three strides was

up the stairs. He did not condescend to Mr. Thomasson, but turned to the

viscountess.

'Well, madam,' he said with a sneer.' Your humble servant. This is an

unforeseen honour! I did not expect to meet you here.'

'I expected to meet _you_,' my lady answered with meaning.

'Glad to give you the pleasure,' he said, sneering again. He was

evidently in the worst of tempers.' May I ask what has set _you_

travelling?' he continued.

'Why, naught but your folly!' the viscountess cried.

'Thank you for nothing, my lady,' he said. 'I suppose your spy

there'--and he scowled at the tutor, whose knees shook under him--'has

set you on this. Well, there is time. I'll settle accounts with him

by-and-by.'

'Lord, my dear sir,' Mr. Thomasson cried faintly, 'you don't know your

friends!'

'Don't I? I think I am beginning to find them out,' Mr. Dunborough

answered, slapping his boot ominously, 'and my enemies!' At which the

tutor trembled afresh.

'Never mind him,' quoth my lady. 'Attend to me, Dunborough. Is it a lie,

or is it not, that you are going to disgrace yourself the way I

have heard?'

'Disgrace myself?' cried Mr. Dunborough hotly.

'Ay, disgrace yourself.'

'I'll flay the man that says it!'

'You can't flay me,' her ladyship retorted with corresponding spirit.'

You impudent, good-for-nothing fellow! D'you hear me? You are an

impudent, good-for-nothing fellow, Dunborough, for all your airs and

graces! Come, you don't swagger over me, my lad! And as sure as you do

this that I hear of, you'll smart for it. There are Lorton and

Swanton--my lord can do as he pleases with _them_, and they'll go from

you; and your cousin Meg, ugly and long in the tooth as she is, shall

have them! You may put this beggar's wench in my chair, but you shall

smart for it as long as you live!'

'I'll marry whom I like!' he said.

'Then you'll buy her dear,' cried my lady, ashake with rage.

'Dear or cheap, I'll have her!' he answered, inflamed by opposition and

the discovery that the tutor had betrayed him. 'I shall go to her now!

She is here.'

'That is a lie!' cried Lady Dunborough. 'Lie number one.'

'She is in the house at this moment!' he cried obstinately. 'And I shall

go to her.'

'She is at Bath,' said my lady, unmoved. 'Ask Thomasson, if you do not

believe me.'

'She is not here,' said the tutor with an effort.

'Dunborough, you'll outface the devil when you meet him!' my lady

added--for a closing shot. She knew how to carry the war into the

enemy's country.

He glared at her, uncertain what to believe. 'I'll see for myself,' he

said at last; but sullenly, and as if he foresaw a check.

He was in the act of turning to carry out his intention, when Lady

Dunborough, with great presence of mind, called to a servant who was

passing the foot of the stairs. The man came. 'Go and fetch this

gentleman the book,' she said imperiously, 'with the people's names.

Bring it here. I want to see it.'

The man went, and in a moment returned with it. She signed to him to

give it to Mr. Dunborough. 'See for yourself,' she said contemptuously.

She calculated, and very shrewdly, that as the lawyer and his companions

had given the name of Soane and taken possession of Sir George's rooms,

only the name of Soane would appear in the book. And so it turned out.

Mr. Dunborough sought in vain for the name of Masterson or for a party

of three, resembling the one he pursued; he found only the name of Sir

George Soane entered when the rooms were ordered.

'Oh!' he said with an execration. 'He is here, is he? Wish you joy of

him, my lady! Very well, I go on. Good night, madam!' The viscountess

knew that opposition would stiffen him. 'Stop!' she cried.

But he was already in the hall, ordering fresh saddle-horses for himself

and his man. My lady heard the order, and stood listening. Mr. Thomasson

heard it, and stood quaking. At any moment the door of the room in which

the girl was supping might open--it was adjacent to the hall--and she

come out, and the two would meet. Nor did the suspense last a moment or

two only. Fresh horses could not be ready in a minute, even in those

times, when day and night post-horses stood harnessed in the stalls.

Even Mr. Dunborough could not be served in a moment. So he roared for a

pint of claret and a crust, sent one servant flying this way, and

another that, hectored up and down the entrance, to the admiration of

the peeping chambermaids; and for a while added much to the bustle. Once

in those minutes the fateful door did open, but it emitted only a

waiter. And in the end, Mr. Dunborough's horses being announced, he

strode out, his spurs ringing on the steps, and the viscountess heard

him clatter away into the night, and drew a deep breath of relief. For a

day or two, at any rate, she was saved. For the time, the machinations

of the creature below stairs were baffled.