The Beautiful Wretch; The Pupil of Aurelius; and The Four Macnicols Part 11

'Is it Mr. Alfred, ma'am? Shall I take him some brandy? I hope he isn't ill, ma'am?' he said in a breath.

'Mr. Alfred, you fool! He's been dead drunk in bed for more than an hour. Where's the brandy? Why don't you leave the spirit-stand out, you miserly thief?'

Then he saw how matters stood; and though he was frightened a little, he was prudent. He went and got some brandy and water in a tumbler; he coaxed her to go upstairs; he a.s.sisted her up; and then, having put her quietly into her room, he returned downstairs, and locked the dining-room door, putting the key in his pocket.

This incident the young butler kept discreetly to himself; he was not going to imperil his situation by telling such a story about his future master and mistress. All the same, the old father and mother began to grow very uneasy. Mrs. Alfred was too unwell to appear next day, nor would she see any one. She wanted brandy, however, to keep her system up. The following day the same legend was repeated. On the evening of that day Alfred King sought out his father in the study, and said he wanted to speak to him.

'Look here, father, it's no use. I'll tell the truth. I came down here to humbug you, and get some more money out of you. But what's the good?--if Jinny had the wealth of the Rothschilds she'd run through it in a fortnight; and then her first trick would be to cut me. Oh, I know her; she's not a bad sort; but she's been brought up to be what she is, and she doesn't mean anything shabby, anything more than a cat thinks itself cruel when it plays with a mouse. Well, no matter.'

He rang the bell, ordered some brandy and soda, and continued:

'Now, I've got some pride in the old place, too, father: I don't want to see Jinny send Kingscourt spinning the moment you die. Well, this is what I propose. I'm no good. I'm played out. I've had my turn.

Well, now, if you'll clear off my debts this time, and start me free with 5000 pounds--giving it in trust to somebody--so that I can have my 200 pounds or 250 pounds a year--then I'll consent to quash the entail; you bring home Frank, and give him Kingscourt. That's better than being a sailor, and he'll look after the old place.'

The old man regarded him calmly, but also with a strange, wistful, sad look.

'I had thought of it. But is there no other way, Alfred?'

'No. I'm broke. I'm done. If you want to save Kingscourt, that's the only way.'

'And you?'

'I've had my turn; I can't complain. Sooner or later Jinny'll bolt.

Then I'll go to the States and try my hand at something.'

'Do you know they've just made Frank commander?'

'He'll be glad to leave the navy, all the same. Fellows can't marry while they're in the navy.'

'What are your debts now, Alfred?'

Here the brandy and soda was brought in, which gave him time to think.

'I don't know exactly. Two brutes have got hold of me. I should fancy they could all be choked off with 8000 pounds--say 9000 pounds.'

'14,000 pounds--it will be a heavy charge on the estate.'

'But I shall be off it. What's more, father, if Frank comes home, and gets married, and plays the good boy and all that kind of thing, don't let him get it into his head that I am jealous of him, or that he has supplanted me. Frank is a fine chap. Tell him it was my proposal; and I hope he'll be a better son to you than I have been. Well, is it a bargain, father?'

The old man thought for some time, and at length said,

'Yes.'

'Well, then, there's another thing. Jinny's stumbled against something and got a black eye. Let's get her out of the house without the servants seeing her--this evening, after dusk. And I'll meet you any day you like at Shaen and Maskell's.'

This, then, was how it came about that Commander Francis Holford King, R.N., was summoned home from the West Indies, where he had been with his ship, the _h.e.l.lespont_. He was grave for his years; and he was more manly in figure, somehow, and certainly browner of face, than when we last saw him at Bellagio, on Lake Como; but as he sailed past the Eddystone Light and entered the smooth waters of Plymouth Sound, there was something within him that told him his heart had not quite forgotten all its old memories.

CHAPTER XI.

TRANSFORMATION.

Captain Frank was everything and did everything that his parents could have hoped for, except in one direction: he would have nothing said about marriage. He came home without a murmur; he never uttered a word of regret about his giving up a profession that he had fair hopes of advancement in; he adopted his new set of duties with cheerfulness, and entered with zest into the festivities of the season. For the leaf was beginning to fall, and all the people about were preparing to shoot the covers, so that parties had to be made up and invitations issued, and there soon came to be a general stir throughout the countryside.

Captain Frank, though he was not much of a shot, took his share in all these things; but he held aloof from womankind, and would not have his marriage even spoken of by his most intimate relatives.

What was the man made of that he could resist a scene like this?

Imagine an open glade in a beautiful Wiltshire wood on the morning after a slight fall of snow. The skies are blue, and the world is full of clear sunlight; the hollies are intensely green over the white of the snow; here and there on the bare branches are a few red leaves.

Also on the snow itself there is a stain of brownish red in some places, where the light air of the morning has shaken down withered needles from a tall pine-tree. Then there is a distant, sharp flutter; the noise increases; suddenly a beautiful thing--a meteor of bronze and crimson--comes whirring along at a tremendous pace; Captain Frank blazes away with one barrel and misses; before he knows where he is the pheasant seems a couple of miles off in the silver and blue of the sky, and he does not care to send the second barrel on a roving commission.

He puts his gun over his shoulder, and returns to his pensive contemplation of the glittering green hollies, and the white snow, and the maze of bare branches going up into the blue.

But a new figure appears in the midst of this English-looking scene. A very pretty young lady comes along smiling--her pink cheeks looking all the pinker, and her blue eyes all the bluer, because of the white snow and also the white fur round her neck. This is pretty Mary Coventry, who is staying at present at Kingscourt. She has the brightest of smiles, and the whitest of teeth.

'Cousin Frank,' she says, 'where do you gentlemen lunch to-day?'

'Look here,' he answers, 'you've come right up the line between the guns and the beaters.'

'Oh, that's all right,' she says, gaily. 'I know your father doesn't allow shooting at ground game into cover.'

'Lunch is to be up at the Hill Farm.'

'Oh, that's the very thing. I want a long walk. And I will help Higgins to have everything ready for you.'

'It will be very rough and tumble. You had much better go back home to lunch.'

'But I have come for the very purpose! I have brought sugar and cinnamon to mull the claret for you. You will find it scalding hot when you come.'

A hare ran by some dozen yards off: he did not fire.

'I see I am in your way. Good-bye for the present.'

'Good-bye. If you do mean to go up to the Hill Farm, you had better keep to the road. Or else,' he added, laughing, 'Mr. Ferrers will have something to say to you.'

'Well,' said pretty Mary Coventry to herself, as she pa.s.sed on and into the road, 'he did not even thank me for all my trouble. And I always thought sailors were supposed to be nice. But perhaps he is lamenting some blackamoor sweetheart in Patagonia, and won't take any notice of anybody.'

It was about a week after this that Captain Frank, having run up to town, met a young gentleman in Piccadilly whom he seemed to recognise.

He looked again--yes, it could be no other than Tom Beresford. But it was Tom Beresford transformed. Mr. Tom was now of age; he had his club, which he much frequented; he had a.s.sumed the air and manner of a man about town. That is to say, although he was clever enough and had a sufficient touch of humour, he cultivated a languid stare, and was chary of speech; and although he was a well-built young fellow, he walked with his elbows out and his knees in, as if the tightness of his trousers and his boots made it nigh impossible for him to walk at all.

Moreover, his dress was more rigidly correct than ever; and of course he carried the inevitable cane--inevitable as the walking-stick of the Athenian.

Frank King went up to him eagerly.

'Hallo, Beresford, how are you?'

'How are you?' was the answer, as a slight boyish blush somewhat interfered with the dignity of Mr. Tom. 'How are you? I heard you were at home again. I heard of you through the Strathernes.'

'And I heard of you in the same way,' said Captain King, who seemed greatly pleased to meet an old friend. 'I'll turn and walk with you.

I've nothing particular to do.'