Peregrine's Progress Part 79

"I only caught the briefest glimpse--besides, she was heavily veiled and seemed to be asleep--"

"Asleep!" exclaimed Anthony fiercely. "Asleep! By G.o.d, Perry, I'm half-minded to wait until that d.a.m.ned chaise comes up and see for myself."

"I beg you will do no such thing!" said I, abhorring the idea of violence and possible bloodshed. "If you are hungry--so am I. Let us get on to Wrotham and dinner." So we mounted and in due time descended the steep hill into the pleasant village of Wrotham.

The "Bull" welcomed us, or more particularly Anthony, with cheeriness tempered with respect; such a bustling of ostlers, running to and fro of serving men; such a dimpling and curtseying of buxom, neat-capped maids; such beaming obeisances from mine host, all to welcome "Mr.

Anthony": indeed such a reception as might have warmed the heart of any man save your embittered, cold-hearted cynic or one who rode with demons on his shoulders.

Though the fare was excellent my appet.i.te was poor and I ate and drank but little, to Anthony's evident concern; and when at last we took the road again, I rode with a jibbering devil on either shoulder, filling me again with nameless fears and vague, unreasoning doubts of I knew not what. Above and around me seemed an ever-growing shadow, a foreboding expectancy of an oncoming evil I could neither define nor shake off, try how I would.

Anthony seemed to sense something of this and (like the good fellow he was) strove valiantly to banish my uncanny gloom, though my attention often wandered and I answered at random or not at all.

"Clothes go a d.a.m.ned long way with a woman, Perry!" he was saying.

"I'm married and I know! That evening suit o' yours with the lavender-flowered waistcoat is bound to rivet her eye--nail her regard, d'ye see! Then there's your new riding suit, I mean the bottle-green frock with the gold-crested b.u.t.tons. She must see you in that and there's few look better astride a horse than yourself--" here I became lost again in the vile gibbering of my demons until these words of Anthony's brought me back again:

"--dev'lish solitary place with an unsavoury reputation. The country folk say it's haunted."

"I beg your pardon, Tony, but what were you telling me?"

"My poor a.s.s," said Anthony, edging nearer the better to peer into my face, "I have been endeavouring to give you a brief description of Raydon Manor--the house peeping amid the trees yonder."

We were climbing a hill and from this eminence could behold a fair sweep of landscape, a rolling, richly wooded countryside very pleasant to behold, and, following the direction pointed by Anthony's whip, I descried the gables of a great, grey house bowered in dense-growing trees that seemed to shut the building in on every side, the whole further enclosed by a lofty wall.

"Ah, a haunted house, Anthony," said I, glancing at the place with perfunctory interest.

"So the yokels say hereabouts, Perry, but if half what I hear is true, it is haunted by things far worse--more evil than ghosts."

"Meaning what?" I questioned.

"Well, it is owned by a person of the name of Trenchard who seems to be a rich mixture of gentlemanly ruffian, Turkish bashaw and the devil. Anyhow, the place has a demned unsavoury reputation and abuts on my land."

"Indeed!" said I, stifling a yawn. "And what manner of neighbour is he--to look at?"

"Don't know--never clapped eyes on the fellow--n.o.body ever sees him.

Fellow rarely stirs abroad and when he does, always in closed carriage--m.u.f.fled to the eyes--queer fish and demned unpleasant, by all accounts."

"Evidently!" said I, then uttered an exclamation as Wildfire tripped and off spun his near foreshoe.

"Curse and confound it!" exclaimed Anthony ruefully. "And no smith nearer than five miles!"

"That being so," quoth I, dismounting, "confound and curse it with all my heart."

"There's the 'Soaring Lark' not half a mile away--a small inn, kept by a friend of mine."

"And a ridiculous name for any inn!" said I.

"Wait till you see it, Perry."

So saying, Anthony turned aside down an unexpected and rutted by-lane, I leading my horse; and, rounding a sharp bend in this narrow track, we came upon a small inn. It stood well back amid the green and was further shaded by three great trees; and surely the prettiest, brightest, cosiest little inn that the eye of wearied traveller might behold. Its twinkling lattices open to the sunny air showed a vision of homely comfort within; its hospitable door gaped wide upon an inviting chamber floored with red tile, and before it stood a tall, youngish man in shirtsleeves with the brightest eyes, the cheeriest smile and the blackest whiskers I had ever seen.

"O Mary, la.s.s!" he cried, "Mr. Anthony!" And then, as he hurried forward to take our horses: "Why, Lord, Mr. Anthony, sir, we du be tur'ble glad to see 'ee--eh, old lady?" This last to her who had hurried to his call--a youngish woman, as bright, as cosy, as cheery, but far prettier than the inn itself.

"Oh, but indeed we be j'yful to see 'ee, Mr. Anthony; us was talkin'

o' you an' your bonny lady this very day. She do be well, sir, I 'ope, an' comin' home to the great house soon, Mr. Anthony?"

"Thank you, yes, Mary," answered Anthony, baring his head and giving her his hand, "we shall be coming home next week. And here, George and Mary, is my friend Mr. Vereker. His horse has cast a shoe, send it to Joe at Hadlow to be shod. Meanwhile we will drink a flagon of your October."

So while George led away my horse, his pretty wife brought us into the sanded parlour, where, having despatched a shock-headed boy with my horse, George presently joined us.

The ale duly drunk, Anthony proposed he should ride on to Nettlestead while Wildfire was being shod and return for me in an hour or so, to which I perforce agreeing, he rode away, leaving me to await him, nothing loath. For what with the spirit of Happiness that seemed to pervade this little inn of the "Soaring Lark" and the cheery good humour of its buxom host and hostess, my haunting demons fled awhile and in their place was restored peace. Sitting with George in this low-raftered kitchen while his pretty wife bustled comfortably to and fro, we talked and grew acquainted.

"By the way, George," said I, "Mr. Vere-Manville showed me a haunted house called, I think, Raydon Manor, do you know anything of it?"

Now at this innocent question, to my surprise George's good humour vanished, his comely features were suddenly overcast, and he exchanged meaning glances with his wife.

"Why, sir," he answered at last, speaking in a lowered voice as if fearful of being overheard, "there's some as do say 't is haunted sure-ly."

"How?" I demanded.

"Well--things 'as been seed, ah, an' heerd in that theer ghastly wood."

"What things?"

"Well--things as flits an' things as wails--ah, fit to break your 'eart an' chill a man's good flesh. Ghost-lights has been seed at dead o' night, an' folks has 'eer'd music at dead o' night an' screams o'

devil-laughter, ah, an' screams as wasn't laughter. Old Gaffer d.i.c.k 'e du ha' seed things an' there's me, I've 'eer'd an' seed things--an'

lots o' folk beside."

"What did you see, George?"

"I dunno rightly, sir, an' never shall this side o' glory, but 'twere a shape, a thing--I might call it a ghost an' I might call it a phanitum; hows'ever 't were a shape, sir, as I seed a-floatin' an'

a-wailin'--Lord, I'll never forget 'ow it wailed!"

Here he mopped his brow at the mere recollection.

"But do you never see any one about by day?"

"Aye, sir, there be a great, sooty black man for one, a hugeous n.i.g.g.e.rmoor with devil's eyes as roll an' teeth like a dog--there's 'im! An' there's three or four desp'rit-seemin' coves as looks like prize fighters--though they ain't often seed abroad an' then mostly drivin' be'ind fast 'orses, sir--coach, sir."

"And what of the owner of the place, Mr. Trenchard, I think his name is?"

"Very seldom stirs abroad, sir, an' then allus in a fast-travellin'

closed carriage; though there's a-plenty o' company now an' then, 'ard-ridin' gentlemen--specially one as usually travels down from Lunnon in a chaise wi' red wheels--"

"What--a black-bodied chaise picked out in yellow?" I enquired sharply.

"Aye, sir, the same."

"And are there lady visitors as well as gentlemen?"