The White Lady of Hazelwood Part 23

Thoughts, which were not all pleasant, chased one another through the mind of Amphillis. If Ricarda were trying to win Norman Hylton, would she be so base as to leave him under the delusion that she was a Neville, possibly of the n.o.ble stock of the Lords of Raby? Mr Hylton's friends, if not himself, would regard with unutterable scorn the idea of marriage with a confectioner's daughter. He would be held to have demeaned himself to the verge of social extinction. And somehow, somewhere, and for some reason--Amphillis pushed the question no further than this--the thought of a.s.sisting, by her silence, in the ruin of Norman Hylton, seemed much harder to bear than the prospect of being hated by Ricarda Altham, even though it were for ever and ever. When these meditations had burned within her for a few seconds, Amphillis spoke.

"Mistress Perrote, wit you how my cousin came hither?"

"Why, by reason my Lady Foljambe sent to thine uncle, to ask at him if thou hadst any kin of the father's side, young maids of good birth and breeding, and of discreet conditions, that he should be willing to put forth hither with thee."

Amphillis felt as if her mind were in a whirl. Surely it was not possible that Mr Altham had known, far less shared, the dishonesty of his daughter? She could not have believed her uncle capable of such meanness.

"Sent to mine uncle?" seemed all that she could utter.

"Ay, but thine uncle, as I heard say, was away when the messenger came, and he saw certain women of his house only."

"Oh, then my uncle was not in the plot!" said Amphillis to herself with great satisfaction.

"Maybe I speak wrongly," added Perrote, reflectively; "I guess he saw but one woman, a wedded cousin of thine, one Mistress Winkfield, who said she wist of a kinswoman of thine on the father's side that she was secure her father would gladly prefer, and she would have her up from Hertfordshire to see him, if he would call again that day week."

How the conspiracy had been managed flashed on Amphillis at once. Mr Altham was always from home on a Wednesday, when he attended a meeting of his professional guild in the city. That wicked Alexandra had done the whole business, and presented her own sister to the messenger as the cousin of Amphillis, on that side of her parentage which came of gentle blood.

"Mistress, I pray you tell me, if man know of wrong done or lying, and utter it not, hath he then part in the wrong?"

"Very like, dear heart. Is there here some wrong-doing? I nigh guessed so much from thy ways. Speak out, Phyllis."

"Soothly, Mistress, I would not by my good will do my kinswoman an ill turn; yet either must I do so, or else hold my peace at wrong done to my Lady Foljambe, and peradventure to Master Hylton. My cousin Ricarda is not of my father's kin. She is daughter unto mine uncle, the patty-maker in the Strand. I know of no kin on my father's side."

"Holy Mary!" cried the scandalised Perrote. "Has thine uncle, then, had part in this wicked work?"

"I cry you mercy, Mistress, but I humbly guess not so. Mine uncle, as I have known him, hath been alway an honest and honourable man, that should think shame to do a mean deed. That he had holpen my cousins thus to act could I not believe without it were proven."

"Then thy cousin, Mistress Winkfield?"

"Alexandra? I said not so much of her."

"Phyllis, my Lady Foljambe must know this."

"I am afeard, Mistress, she must. Mistress, I must in mine honesty confess to you that these few days I have wist my cousin had called her by the name of Neville; but in good sooth, I wist not if I ought to speak or no, till your word this even seemed to show me that I must. My cousins have been somewhat unfriends to me, and I held me back lest I should be reckoned to revenge myself." Perrote took in the situation at a glance. "Poor child!" she said. "It is well thou hast spoken. I dare guess, thou sawest not that mischief might come thereof."

"In good sooth, Mistress, that did I not until this even. I never thought of no such a thing."

"Verily, I can scarce marvel, for such a thing was hardly heard of afore. To deceive a n.o.ble lady! to 'present herself as of gentle blood, when she came but of a trading stock! 'Tis horrible! I can scarce think of worser deed, without she had striven to deceive the priest himself in confession."

The act of Ricarda Altham was far more shocking in the eyes of a lady in the fourteenth century than in the nineteenth. The falsehood she had told was the same in both cases; or rather, it would weigh more heavily now than then. But the nature of the deception--that what they would have termed "a beggarly tradesman's brat" should, by deceiving a lady of family, have forced herself on terms of comparative equality into the society of ladies--was horrible in the extreme to their eclectic souls.

Tradesmen, in those days, were barely supposed, by the upper cla.s.ses, to have either morals or manners, except an awe of superior people, which was expected to act as a wholesome barrier against cheating their aristocratic customers. In point of fact, the aristocratic customers were cheated much oftener than they supposed, on the one side, and some of the "beggarly tradesfolk" were men of much higher intellect and principle than they imagined, on the other. Brains were held to be a prerogative of gentle blood, extra intelligence in the lower cla.s.ses being almost an impertinence. The only exception to this rule lay with the Church. She was allowed to develop a brain in whom she would. The sacredness of her tonsure protected the man who wore it, permitting him to exhibit as much (or as little) of manners, intellect, and morals, as he might think proper.

Perrote's undressing on that evening was attended with numerous shakes of the head, and sudden e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of mingled astonishment and horror.

"And that Agatha!" was one of the e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns.

Amphillis looked for enlightenment.

"Why, she is full hand in glove with Ricarda. The one can do nought that the other knows not of. I dare be bound she is helping her to draw poor Master Norman into her net--for Agatha will have none of him; she's after Master Matthew."

"Lack-a-day! I never thought n.o.body was after anybody!" said innocent Amphillis.

"Keep thy seliness [simplicity], child!" said Perrote, smiling on her.

"Nor, in truth, should I say 'poor Master Norman,' for I think he is little like to be tangled either in Ricarda's web or Agatha's meshes.

If I know him, his eyes be in another quarter--wherein, I would say, he should have better content. Ah me, the folly of men! and women belike-- I leave not them out; they be oft the more foolish of the twain. The good G.o.d a.s.soil [forgive] us all! Alack, my poor Lady! It doth seem as if the Lord shut all doors in my face. I thought I was about to win Sir G.o.dfrey over--and hard work it had been--and then cometh this Abbot of Darley, and slams the door afore I may go through. Well, the Lord can open others, an' He will. 'He openeth, and none shutteth; He shutteth, and none openeth;' and blessed be His holy Name, He is easilier come at a deal than men. If I must tarry, it is to tarry His leisure; and He knows both the hearts of men, and the coming future; and He is secure not to be too late. He loves our poor Lady better than I love her, and I love her well-nigh as mine own soul. Lord, help me to wait Thy time, and help mine unbelief!"

The ordeal of telling Lady Foljambe had to be gone through the next morning. She was even more angry than Perrote had antic.i.p.ated, and much more than Amphillis expected. Ricarda was a good-for-nought, a hussy, a wicked wretch, and a near relative of Satan, while Amphillis was only a shade lighter in the blackness of her guilt. In vain poor Amphillis pleaded that she had never guessed Lady Foljambe's intention of sending for her cousin, and had never heard of it until she saw her. Then, said Lady Foljambe, unreasonable in her anger, she ought to have guessed it.

But it was all nonsense! Of course she knew, and had plotted it all with her cousins.

"Nay, Dame," said Perrote; "I myself heard you to say, the even afore Ricarda came, that it should give Phyllis a surprise to see her."

If anything could have made Lady Foljambe more angry than she was, it was having it shown to her that she was in the wrong. She now turned her artillery upon Perrote, whom she scolded in the intervals of heaping unsavoury epithets upon Amphillis and Ricarda, until Amphillis thought that everything poor Perrote had ever done in her life to Lady Foljambe's annoyance, rightly or wrongly, must have been dragged out of an inexhaustible memory to lay before her. At last it came to an end.

Ricarda was dismissed in dire disgrace; all that Lady Foljambe would grant her was her expenses home, and the escort of one mounted servant to take her there. Even this was given only at the earnest pleading of Perrote and Amphillis, who knew, as indeed did Lady Foljambe herself, that to turn a girl out of doors in this summary manner was to expose her to frightful dangers in the fourteenth century. Poor Ricarda was quite broken down, and so far forgot her threats as to come to Amphillis for help and comfort. Amphillis gave her every farthing in her purse, and desired the servant who was to act as escort to convey a conciliatory message to her uncle, begging forgiveness for Ricarda for her sake. She sent also an affectionate and respectful message to her new aunt, entreating her to intercede with her husband for his daughter.

"Indeed, Rica, I would not have told if I could have helped it and bidden true to my trust!" was the farewell of Amphillis.

"O Phyllis, I wish I'd been as true as you, and then I should never have fallen in this trouble!" sobbed the humbled Ricarda. "I shouldn't have thought of it but for Saundrina. But there, I've been bad enough! I'll not lay blame to other folks. G.o.d be wi' thee! if I may take G.o.d's name into my lips; but, peradventure, He'll be as angry as my Lady."

"I suppose He is alway angered at sin," said Amphillis. "But, Rica, the worst sinner that ever lived may take G.o.d's name into his lips to say, 'G.o.d, forgive me!' And we must all alike say that. And Mistress Perrote saith, if we hide our stained souls behind the white robes of our Lord Christ, G.o.d the Father is never angered with Him. All that anger was spent, every drop of it, upon the cross on Calvary; so there is none left now, never a whit, for any sinner that taketh refuge in Him. Yea, it was spent on Him for this cause, that all souls taking shelter under His wing unto all time might find there only love, and rest, and peace."

"O Phyllis, thou'rt a good maid. I would I were half as good as thou!"

"If I am good at all, dear Rica, Jesu Christ hath done it; and He will do it for thee, for the asking."

So the cousins parted in more peace than either of them would once have thought possible.

For some hours Amphillis was in serious doubt whether she would not share the fate of her cousin. Perrote pleaded for her, it seemed, in vain; even Mrs Margaret added her gentle entreaties, and was sharply bidden to hold her tongue. But when, on the afternoon of that eventful day, Amphillis went, as was now usual, to mount guard in the Countess's chamber, she was desired, in that lady's customary manner--

"Bid Avena Foljambe come and speak with me."

Amphillis hesitated an instant, and her mistress saw it.

"Well? Hast an access [a fit of the gout], that thou canst not walk?"

"Dame, I cry your Grace mercy. I am at this present ill in favour of my Lady Foljambe, and I scarce know if she will come for my asking."

The Countess laughed the curt, bitter laugh which Amphillis had so often heard from her lips.

"Tell her she may please herself," she said; "but that if she be not here ere the hour, I'll come to her. I am not yet so sick that I cannot crawl to the further end of the house. She'll not tarry to hear that twice, or I err."

Amphillis locked the door behind her, as she was strictly ordered to do whenever she left that room, unless Perrote were there, and finding Lady Foljambe in her private boudoir, tremblingly delivered the more civil half of her message. Lady Foljambe paid no heed to her.

"Dame," said poor Amphillis, "I pray you of mercy if I do ill; but her Grace bade me say also that, if you came not to her afore the clock should point the hour, then would she seek you."

Lady Foljambe allowed a word to escape her which could only be termed a mild form of swearing--a sin to which women no less than men, and of all cla.s.ses, were fearfully addicted in the Middle Ages--and, without another look at Amphillis, stalked upstairs, and let herself with her own key into the Countess's chamber.

The Countess sat in her large chair of carved walnut, made easy by being lined with large, soft cushions. There were no easy chairs of any other kind. She was in her favourite place, near the window.