Lord Montagu's Page Part 48

"I know not well how to explain," replied Soubise, looking down thoughtfully.

"His mother was a very light Italian woman, of a low, bad race. Your father married her, beyond doubt, before this child was born; but it was only just before, and that with half a dozen stilettos at his throat; for they caught him alone with her and forced the marriage. Almost as soon as it was over, he separated from her and she went into a convent,--her relations spreading absurd stories that they had caused the separation because your father was a Protestant. This gained them some favor at the court of Rome, and one of them obtained advancement in the Church, where, after leading a very dissolute life, he was struck with remorse and retired into the most austere seclusion. This is nearly all I know of the matter; but it was this knowledge of the young man's birth, character, and connections which made me use the term 'insolent varlet' which gave you so much offence. I pledge you my honor, however, it was not intended for you; and I should not have applied it, probably, to him, had I not been in haste and irritated at the moment."

"Then I hope, my good lord," replied Edward, "that, as the expression was not applied to me, I may look upon all the sentiments and resolutions contained in that letter as unsaid also?"

"Do not press me to-night," said Soubise, very gravely. "I am afraid if I speak now my reply will pain you. The house of Rohan is a proud house, and I have much to think of. Give me a few days for reflection, and I will meet you fairly. But in the mean time let us be friends. Your father was the companion of my youth and my most intimate a.s.sociate; your mother, now a saint in heaven, was an angel upon earth; and I would fain have their son's regard."

As he spoke, he held out his hand to the young man, who took it respectfully; and shortly after the prince retired to rest.

CHAPTER XLVII.

Though those were days of splendid cavalcades, and the neighborhood of the royal palace of Royston had rendered them not infrequent some years before in that part of Huntingdonshire, it was not often that such a party presented itself in the small village of Buckley as that which was seen on the day after Edward's arrival. First, there was Dr. Winthorne, on his tall, stout, Roman-nosed horse, forming the centre of the group; then, on his left, Edward Langdale, riding a wicked, fiery devil, which screamed and bit at the approach of any other animal, but which he managed with grace and ease. Then there was the Prince de Soubise on the doctor's right, mounted on a powerful Norman charger and looking very much the soldier and the prince. Behind them were three servants, all well mounted and armed; and the whole formed a group which attracted the attention of the villagers and made even the blacksmith suspend the blows of his sledge-hammer to look at the fine horses he longed to shoe.

There was a little, old, dusty house on the right-hand side of the road as you came from Applethorpe toward the king's highway to Huntingdon, with the gables turned toward the street, a wooden porch carved in curious shapes, and some five or six descending steps. On one of the pillars of the porch was hung a curious sort of shield painted with various colors,--a quaint emblem of the holy Roman empire; and underneath was written, with no great regard to symmetry either in the size or shape of the letters, the words "Martin Sykes, Notary Public, Attorney-at-Law, Solicitor in his most gracious Majesty's Court of Chancery, &c. &c. &c.,"--which etceteras were explained and commented upon by a long inscription on the other pillar.

Before that little porch Dr. Winthorne pulled in his rein and floundered off his horse, and Soubise and Edward Langdale followed. In the first room on the left hand they found three or four clerks; and at a separate desk, which he could not have overtopped without a.s.sistance, was seated a little old man with very keen features and a back and chest which a.s.sumed a menacing posture in regard to the head.

"Ah, doctor," he said, slipping off the high stool which raised him up to the desk, "what brings you so early to Buckley? Odds-my-life! Why, I can hardly believe my eyes! Master Ned grown into a bearded man of war!

My dear boy, how are you? Oh, how I have missed you!--missed the trout in the month of May,--missed the partridges in September,--missed the snipes and the woodc.o.c.ks in the cold weather, when I have my annual abscess in the lungs,--missed thy handsome face at all those times when a kind word in a youthful voice cheers an old man like me!"

Edward shook him warmly by the hand, and asked after all his ailments kindly, but speedily turned to their companion, saying, "Mr. Sykes, this is the Prince de Soubise, an old friend of both my parents."

"I remember him well," said Mr. Sykes. "That is to say, I do not remember him at all. I mean, in person I do not remember him, for he might as well be Goliath of Gath as Prince de Soubise, so far as any identification on my part could go; but I remember quite well a young gentleman of that name, in purfled silk philimot velvet laced with gold, slashed velvet breeches, and a sword as long as a barbecuing-spit by his side, being present at your father's wedding and witnessing the marriage-contract."

"He has got me exactly," said Monsieur de Soubise. "I have had, Mr.

Notary, to take to lighter but more serviceable weapons since; but, if my person is so much changed that you cannot remember me, there are plenty of witnesses here to swear to whom I am; and I expect in a few days my good friend Monsieur Clement Tournon, syndic of the goldsmiths of Roch.e.l.le, who made and brought over a set of jewels for my friend's bride, and who saw me witness the contract with his own eyes. He remembers the whole deed, he says; for it was read over to us before the signature."

"He will be an important witness, sir," said Martin Sykes; "and your Highness will be more so. It is all coming right, as I thought it would," he continued, turning to Dr. Winthorne and rubbing his thin, bony hands. "Somewhat long we have been about it; but step by step we are making way. Every thing takes time, doctor,--even a sermon, as the poor people here know well. The great difference between a lawsuit and a sermon is, that during the first the people sleep often and sleep badly, and during the second they sleep once and they sleep well. Now, Master Ned, I calculate that we shall get to the end of this suit and have a decree in our favor--let me see: you are about twenty, are not you?--in about forty-nine years and seven months." He paused a single instant, and rubbed his hands, and then added, with a smile slightly triumphant, "That is to say, if we cannot get the original settlement. But I think we shall get it, Ned, my boy. I think I can guess where it is. It is most likely badly damaged; but just give me sufficient of it left to show some of the signatures and the date, and then come in these gentlemen as witnesses to prove what it originally contained. Oh, we will make a fine little case of it! But parties: we want parties,--somebody to fight us,--Master Ned."

"But if the fight is to last so long as you have said, my dear friend,"

remarked Edward Langdale, "and I am only to succeed when I am sixty-nine years and seven months old, I think I had better not begin the battle."

"Ay, but you forget the if," said Martin Sykes, with a laugh. "An _if_ makes every thing in law. It is as potent as 'any thing hereinbefore contained to the contrary notwithstanding,' or 'always provided nevertheless,' or any other of those sweet phrases with which we double up the sense of our doc.u.ments or give a sweet and polite contradiction to what we have just been saying the moment before. As to the battle, my dear young friend, it has begun already. Acting on your behalf, as your next friend, I have managed to get possession of Buckley, have served Sir Richard's lawyer and agent with all sorts of processes,--some sixteen or seventeen, I think,--ejectments, quo warrantos, rules nisi, and others; and the poor fool, who is nothing at all unless he has a Londoner at his back, has let me have very nearly my own way, having no orders, not knowing where to get any, and standing like a goose under the first drops of a thunder-shower, with his eyes staring and his mouth half open."

"But where is the contract?" asked Monsieur de Soubise, in French. "If I understood him aright, he said he knew where it was."

Edward interpreted, feeling very sure that good Mr. Sykes was not very abundantly provided with French; but the little lawyer shook his head, saying, "No, no; I did not profess to know absolutely where it is; but there is one not very far from here who I think does know. I think he does,--I am sure he does. He tells me a box of valuable papers were lost at the great fire; and he shakes his head, and looks wise, and talks of its being 'made worth his while.' He is the most avaricious old devil in the world. It is a curious thing, Ned, all s.e.xtons are avaricious. They deal so much with dust and ashes that they learn to like the only sort of dross which does not decay when you bury it. He is a very old man now, and could not enjoy for more than a few months any thing he had, were it millions."

"What! you are not speaking of the old s.e.xton at Langley, are you?"

asked Edward,--"the man with the lame hip? He used to say he got that injury at the fire; and my father gave him many a guinea for it. I used to give him shillings and sixpences, too, to make him tell me all about the fire, till one day I caught him taking away a groat I had given to a poor child, and then I knocked him over the shoulder with my fishing-rod. He has never liked me after, but hobbles away into his cottage whenever he sees me, and shuts the door tight."

What there was in this little anecdote which peculiarly struck good Mr.

Sykes I cannot tell, but he fell into a fit of thought, still standing,--for there were no chairs in the room, except one, which had lost a leg, (in what action I do not know,) and the high stools on which the clerks were sitting, if they could be called chairs. He kept a finger of his right hand resting on the side of his nose, however, for two or three minutes; and then, suddenly rousing himself, he said, "Let us go into the house. We can sit down there and talk. This is a poor place for such company. It does well enough for roystering farmers' sons who have been breaking each others' heads, or for a deputy tax-collector, or for gossiping women who have been slandering and being slandered. I don't want them to sit down at all; and that is the reason I have only one chair with a broken leg, to which I always hand old Mistress Skillet, the doctor's widow, who abuses every young girl in the place who has got a pretty face and wears a pink ribbon. Then down she comes, and declares she has broken her hip-bone, and walks away in great indignation, never coming back until she has another peck of lies upon her stomach. I must not do it any more, for she has grown as large as an elephant; and the last time she tumbled she had nearly shaken the office down. Besides, it cost me two ounces of peppermint to bring all those boys there out of their convulsions. But come, gentlemen, let us go."

Thus saying, he led the way through a little door at the back of the office, across a small pa.s.sage, into an exceedingly neat old fashioned parlor, where, having seated his guests, he rushed at a corner cupboard and brought forth some tall-stalked cut and gilded winegla.s.ses, and a square-sided bottle, likewise cut and gilded, from which he pressed his visitors to help themselves. Monsieur de Soubise remarked it was too early to drink wine; but the old man pressed them, saying, "It is not wine at all. It is fine old Dutch cinnamon." And, each having taken a little, good Mr. Sykes leaned his arms upon the table, remarking, "Now, this looks really like the commencement of a conspiracy; and a conspiracy we must have. I have settled it all. We must go over to the old place,--that is, old Langley Court, prince. I will enact my own character. The doctor here is too reverent to undergo transformation.

You, my n.o.ble sir, must be a French n.o.bleman about to buy Langley Court, and Buckley too,--in fact, half the estates in the neighborhood. Edward here must be your cornet of horse. There will be no need to mention his name; but the old wretch, who is as sharp as Satan, will most likely know him. He is aware, however, that Master Ned has been over in the wars in France: so the story will go down."

"It seems to me, my good friend Sykes," said Dr. Winthorne, "that you are going to tell a vast quant.i.ty of lies. Mark you, now: I will have nothing to do with them. I don't even know that I ought to stand by and hear them."

"You shall not hear a lie come out of my mouth," said Sykes, laughing.

"My lord the prince, I dare say you are willing enough to buy Langley Court and the estate, if I will sell it to you for a gold crown,--what you call in France an _ecu d'or_?"

"Oh, very willingly," answered Soubise: "this cinnamon is worth an _ecu d'or_." And he helped himself to some more.

"Well, then, I will sell you the whole estate for that sum,--if ever I can prove my t.i.tle to it," said Sykes. "It is a bargain. Now, Dr.

Winthorne, do not you by any scruples spoil your young friend's only chance, if you would not have us take you for a cropped-eared Puritan instead of a good old sound Church-of-England man."

"Well, then, don't you lie too much, Mr. Attorney. I will swallow as much as I can; but keep within bounds, or you may chance to find me break out."

"All you have to do is to hold your tongue. I will do all the speaking,"

replied Sykes. "The prince here may talk as much French as ever he likes, and Master Ned may answer him in the same tongue. I will answer for it that neither old Grimes the s.e.xton nor Martin Sykes the lawyer will be a bit the wiser for it."

"But when is this to be done?" asked Dr. Winthorne. "We have ridden ten miles already to-day."

"Well," said Mr. Sykes, "if we go over by the Barford road, that is but ten miles; and then we can go to Applethorpe, where you intend to give me a bed: that is but nine miles more. You would not mind going thirty miles any day for a fox-hunt."

"I never go fox-hunting," grumbled Dr. Winthorne.

"No, but you used once," said Mr. Sykes. And, bearing down all opposition, being strongly supported, it must be owned, by Edward and the Prince de Soubise, Mr. Sykes carried his point, ordered his own easy-going cob to be brought round, and had a bag fixed to the saddle with such little articles of dress as he wanted.

When the four gentlemen issued forth into the street to proceed upon their way, a certain rosyness of Pierrot's nose, which, together with some dewy drops in his eye, gave his face somewhat the aspect of a morning landscape, induced Edward to believe that he had been engaged in the pious employment of breaking a good resolution. But Pierrot declared manfully that he had only been following his young master's orders with his French companion. "You told me to treat them hospitably, sir," he said; "and how can I treat them hospitably without drinking with them?"

Edward gave him a caution to keep himself sober at all events, and on they went some nine miles upon their way at a brisk pace.

"Now," said Sykes, as they approached the old park-wall, which had fallen down in several places, "we won't go nearer the old rascal. We must be perfectly indifferent."

"I recollect this park well," said the Prince de Soubise. "What a splendid place it was before the fire!"

"Hush! hush!" cried Sykes. "That is English." And, riding on, he pulled up his horse at a spot where some cottages were built between the road and the river, just fronting the old iron gates of what was called the gra.s.s court, beyond which, some two hundred yards off, appeared the blackened ruins of Langley.

The walls were all down,--at least, those of the main building; for not only had the fire overthrown them, but the pick and shovel had been busy for several weeks after the catastrophe, turning over the princ.i.p.al ruins in search of plate and other articles of value which had not been carried out during the fire.

There the gentlemen dismounted. The servants tied the horses to the iron gates, and the whole party entered the gra.s.s court and looked around. At that moment an old wizened face appeared at one of the small lozenges of a cottage-window, and the next a c.h.i.n.k of the door was opened and the same face gazed out. In the mean time Mr. Sykes, with his riding-whip in his hand, was pointing out to Soubise all the wonders of the place, telling him where the great hall used to stand, where the guest-chambers were, and where were the private apartments of the Lady of Langley.

Never before in his life was he so eloquent. While he went on, an old man of perhaps eighty hobbled across the road and came close up to the side of Dr. Winthorne. Just at that moment Mr. Sykes pointed with his whip to a tower a little detached from the main building, and apparently of more ancient architecture, saying, "That was the wine and ale cellar; and I have heard people say that during the fire the casks burst with an explosion like so many cannon."

"That is not true," said the old man, who had just come up; "for there had not been a thing or a body in that tower for thirty years before.

Why, the stairs were half worn away; and Sir Richard would have pulled it down if it had not been for my lady, who liked the look of it."

"Ah, is that you, old Grimes?" said Mr. Sykes. "Why, you look younger than ever."

"I shall live to bury you yet," said the old s.e.xton. "Don't make me wait long, for I am tired enough of life, I am sure. Who is that you have got with you, Sykes?"

"This is a French n.o.bleman, the Prince de Soubise," replied the attorney. "As he cannot live in his own country, on account of the troubles, he has come over to England. We have been talking about his buying this place. Indeed, it is almost a bargain. He will have all these ruins cleared away," he continued, in a confidential tone, and somewhat dropping his voice, to prevent Dr. Winthorne from hearing too much.

The old s.e.xton's face had turned a little pale; but the next instant he said, a little gruffly, "You can't sell him the place, Sykes."