Penshurst Castle Part 22

George rode moodily by his brother's side, scarcely heeding what he saw, and torturing himself with the careless indifference with which Lucy had treated him.

He had asked her to come to his mother's lodgings, and she had refused, saying,--

'You have Mistress Dorothy here, you cannot want me. Besides, I am under orders, and Crawley must be obeyed.'

Then, in the intervals of the tournament, George had seen the eyes of several gallants directed towards Lady Pembroke's booth, and heard one man say,--

'There is a pretty maiden in the Countess's following. I lay a wager I will get a smile from her.'

'Not you,' was the reply; 'she has eyes for no one but Mr Sidney. She follows him with admiring glances; no one else has a chance.'

While George was inwardly fuming against the two men, one rode up to the booth, and bowing low, till his head nearly swept his horse's neck, he presented a posy, tied with a blue riband, to Lucy, who smiled and blushed with delight, quite indifferent to the scowl on George's face, as he sat grimly on his horse at the further end of the tilting-yard, where he was stationed, with several others, with a relay of horses in case fresh ones should be wanted by the combatants.

Unversed in the ways of the Court, George did not know that it was the habit of gallants to present posies, as they would have said, at the shrine of beauty. From the Maiden Queen upon the throne to the pretty bower-woman at her needle, this homage was expected, and received almost as a matter of course. But George, like many other men of his age, had his special divinity, and could not endure to see other worshippers at her feet.

All these memories of the two days' tournament occupied George Ratcliffe during his ride by his brother's side, and kept up a sort of accompaniment to the measured trot of the horses as they were brought up in the rear by the servants in charge of them. After a long silence, George said,--

'Did you see Mistress Lucy ere we started, Humphrey, to let her know of her sister's trouble.'

'No,' was the answer. 'No; I could not get permission to do so, but I sent a letter by the hand of one of Lord Pembroke's esquires, which would tell her of her sister's trouble.'

'It was an ill day for me,' George said, 'when Lucy Ratcliffe came to the Court. I have lost her now.'

'Nay now, George, do not be a craven and lose heart. You may win yet. There is time, and to spare, before you.'

Thereupon George gave his st.u.r.dy roan steed a sharp cut with the whip, which surprised him greatly. He resented the indignity by plunging from side to side of the rugged road, and by his heavy gambols sending the other horses off in a variety of antics.

When the horses were quieted down again, Humphrey said, laughing,--

'Poor old fellow! he doesn't understand why his master should punish him for the offences of Mistress Lucy Ratcliffe.' Then, more seriously, 'My own heart is heavy within me, but I try to ease the burden by doing what I can to relieve the pain of her whom I love. Action is the best cure for heart sickness.'

'But action is impossible for me, Humphrey. I have only to endure. Here am I, riding back to our home to eat the bread of disappointment, leaving her, for whom I would gladly die, to the temptations of the Court. She will listen to the wooing of some gallant, and my Lady Pembroke will abet it, and then--'

'Then bear it like a man, George; nor break your heart for a maiden, when there are, I doubt not, many who are worthier and--'

'That's fine talking,' poor George said wrathfully. 'What if I were to tell you there are many worthier than the widow of Ambrose Gifford. There are some who say that she was not--'

Humphrey's eyes had an angry light in them as he turned them full on his brother.

'Not a word more, George, of _her_. I will not brook it; her name is sacred to me as the name of any saint in Heaven.'

George felt he dare say no more, and, after another silence, Humphrey asked,--

'When does our mother propose to return?'

'Not for a month. She has made friends with a draper in the Chepe, who is a relation of our father's. He has a little, ill-favoured son, and I think I saw signs of his wishing to win Dorothy Ratcliffe's favour. I would to Heaven he may do so, and then I shall at any rate have peace and quiet, and be free from hearing my mother lay plans of what she will do when I bring Dorothy as mistress of Hillside. Marry Dorothy, forsooth! I pity any man who is tied to that shrew for life.'

'Even the ill-favoured cousin you speak of in the Chepe,' Humphrey said, laughing in spite of himself. 'Nay, George, bear yourself as a man, and I dare to say little Mistress Lucy will come round to your wishes.'

'I would that I could hope, but despair has seized me ever since the day of that tourney. Did you ever see anyone look fairer than she did that day seated amongst all the grand folks? There was not one to compare with her, and I caught words in several quarters which showed me I am not wrong in my estimate of her.'

'Ah, George,' his brother said, 'we are all wont to think our own idols are beyond compare; it is a common illusion--or delusion. But we are nearing Tunbridge. Here we must part, for I must tarry here to pursue inquiries, while you proceed homewards. The horses must be baited, and we must get some refreshments at the hostel. It may be that in the inn kitchen I may pick up some information that may be of service. I shall not ride to Penshurst till nightfall, or may be the morrow, but I must confide a letter to the care of that trusty Ned who I see coming up behind us but slowly on yonder st.u.r.dy steed.'

Humphrey dismounted in the yard of the hostel and gave orders to his groom, while George went into the kitchen and bid the hostess spread a good meal for the whole party.

Humphrey waited outside till the baggage horse, on which Ned was seated came up.

Poor Ned was entirely unused to travel on horseback, and had found jolting and b.u.mping on the st.u.r.dy mare's back over the rough road far more painful than his long march of the previous day and night. He was the b.u.t.t of the other servants, who laughed more loudly than politely as he was set on his legs in the yard.

He was so stiff from the confined position, that he staggered and would have fallen, amidst the boisterous jeers of the spectators, had not Humphrey caught him, and, trying to steady him, said,--

'Peace, ye varlets; this good fellow has done me a real service, and deserves better at your hands than gibes and scoffs. Come hither, Ned. I have yet something further for you to do for me.'

Ned followed Humphrey with halting steps, shaking first one leg and then another, as if to a.s.sure himself that they still belonged to him.

'I'll do all you ask, Master,' Ned said, 'but ride a-horseback. I will walk fifty miles sooner. My legs are full of pins and needles, and it will take a deal of shaking and rubbing before I can call 'em my own again.'

Humphrey could not resist laughing, for Ned's face was comical in its contortions, as he stamped his feet and rubbed his shins with muttered exclamations that, as long as his name was Ned, he would never get upon a horse's back again.

'You've got a fit of the cramp,' Humphrey said, 'it will soon pa.s.s. Now, after you have had a good meal, take this letter which is tied and sealed, and put it into the hands of Mistress Gifford. It will tell her all I can yet tell her in answer to the letter you brought me. At least she will know by it that I will do my utmost to serve her, and find her son.'

Ned took the letter with his large brown fingers, and, putting it into the pouch in the breast of his smock, he said,--

'I'll carry it safe, Master, and I'll be off at once.'

'Not till you have broken your long fast in the kitchen of the hostel.'

'An it please you, Master, I would sooner be off, if I get a cake to eat on the way, and a draft of ale before I start; that will serve me. Do not order me, I pray you, to sit down with those gibing villains--no, nor order me, kind sir, to mount a horse again. If I live to be three score, I pray Heaven I may never sit a-horseback again.'

CHAPTER IX

ACROSS THE FORD

'Farewell to you! my hopes, my wonted waking dreams, Farewell, sometimes enjoyed joy, eclipsed are thy beams.

Farewell self-pleasing thoughts! which quietness brings forth, And farewell friendship's sacred league! uniting minds of worth.'

SIR F. GREVILLE, 1591.

Lucy Forrester was mending the lace of one of Lady Pembroke's ruffs which had been torn at the edge on the previous day, when a page brought in Humphrey's letter, saying, 'For Mistress Forrester.'

'Hand it hither,' Mistress Crawley said. 'It will keep till that lace is mended, and I'd have you to know, Mistress Lucy, my lady is very careful that there should be no billets pa.s.sing between the young gentlewomen of her household and idle gallants about the Court. A pack of rubbish is in that letter, I'll warrant; some rhymes about your bright eyes and cherry cheeks, or some such stuff.'

'If you please, Madam, I desire to have my letter, and, if you will not give it to me, I will go to my lady and tell her you refuse to let me have it.'