Books: Love and Life
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> Love and Life
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Aurelia could not guess what the danger the woman threatened could
be; so many had been mentioned as possible. A forcible marriage,
incarceration in some lonely country place, a vague threat of being
taken beyond seas to the plantation--all these had been mentioned;
but she was far more afraid of Colonel Mar forcing his way in and
carrying her off, and this kept her constantly in a state of nervous
watchfulness, always listening by day and hardly able to sleep by
night.
Once she had a terrible alarm, on a Sunday. Letty came rushing to
her, declaring that Jumbo, dear Jumbo, and a gentleman were in the
front court. Was it really Jumbo? Come and see! No, she durst not,
and Fay almost instantly declared that Madge had shut them out. The
children both insisted that Jumbo it was, but Aurelia would not
believe that it could be anything but an attempt of her enemies.
She interrogated Madge, who had grown into a certain liking for
one so submissive and inoffensive. Madge shook her head, could not
guess how such folks had got into the court, was sure they were after
no good, and declared that my Lady should hear of all the strange
doings, and the letters that had been left with her. Oh, no, she
knew better than to give them, but my Lady should see them.
CHAPTER XXXIII. THE COSMETIC.
But one more task I charge thee with to-day,
For unto Proserpine then take thy way,
And give this golden casket to her hands.
MORRIS.
Late on that Sunday afternoon, a muffled and masked figure came
through the house into the court behind, and after the first shock
Aurelia was relieved to see that it was too tall, and moved too
gracefully, to belong to Loveday.
"Why, child, what a colour you have!" said Lady Belamour, taking off
her mask. "You need no aids to nature at your happy age. That is
right, children," as they curtsied and kissed her hand. "Go into
the house, I wish to speak with your cousin."
Lady Belamour's unfailing self-command gave her such dignity that she
seemed truly a grand and majestic dame dispensing justice, and the
gentle, shrinking Aurelia like a culprit on trial before her.
"You have been here a month, Aurelia Delavie. Have you come to your
senses, and are you ready to sign this paper?"
"No, madam, I cannot."
"Silly fly; you are as bent as ever on remaining in the web in which
a madman and a foolish boy have involved you?"
"I cannot help it, madam."
"Oh! I thought," and her voice became harshly clear, though so low,
"that you might have other schemes, and be spreading your toils at
higher game."
"Certainly not, madam."
"Your colour shows that you understand, in spite of all your pretences."
"I have never used any pretences, my lady," said Aurelia, looking up
in her face with clear innocent eyes.
"You have had no visitors? None!"
"None, madam, except once when the Lady Arabella Mar forced her way
in, out of curiosity, I believe, and her brother followed to take her
away."
"Her brother? You saw him?" Each word came out edged like a knife
from between her nearly closed lips.
"Yes, madam."
"How often?"
"That once."
"That has not hindered a traffic in letters."
"Not on my side, madam. I tore to fragments unread the only one that
I received. He had no right to send it!"
"Certainly not. You judge discreetly, Miss Delavie. In fact you are
too transcendent a paragon to be retained here." Then, biting her lip,
as if the bitter phrase had escaped unawares, she smiled blandly and
said, "My good girl, you have merited to be returned to your friends.
You may pack your mails and those of the children!"
Aurelia shuddered with gladness, but Lady Belamour checked her thanks
by continuing, "One service you must first do for me. My perfumer is
at a loss to understand your translation of the recipe for Queen Mary's
wash. I wish you to read and explain it to her."
"Certainly, madam."
"She lives near Greenwich Park," continued Lady Belamour, "and as I
would not have the secret get abroad, I shall send a wherry to take
you to the place early to-morrow morning. Can you be ready by eight
o'clock?"
Aurelia readily promised, her heart bounding at the notion of a
voyage down the river after her long imprisonment and at the promise
of liberty! She thought her husband must still be true to her, since
my lady would have been the first to inform her of his defection, and
as long as she had her ring and her certificate, she could feel little
doubt that her father would be able to establish her claims. And oh!
to be with him and Betty once more!
She was ready in good time, and had spent her leisure in packing.
When Loveday appeared, she was greeted with a petition that the two
little girls might accompany her; but this was refused at once, and
the waiting-maid added in her caressing, consoling tone that Mrs.
Dove was coming with their little brother and sister to take them
a drive into the country. They skipped about with glee, following
Aurelia to the door of the court, and promising her posies of
honeysuckles and roses, and she left her dear love with them for
Amoret and Nurse Dove.
At the door was a sedan chair, in which Aurelia was carried to some
broad stone stairs, beside which lay a smartly-painted, trim-looking
boat with four stout oarsmen. She was handed into the stern, Loveday
sitting opposite to her. The woman was unusually silent, and could
hardly be roused to reply to Aurelia's eager questions as she passed
the gardens of Lincoln's Inn, saw St. Paul's rise above her, shot
beneath the arch of London Bridge, and beheld the massive walls of
the Tower with its low-browed arches opening above their steps.
Whenever a scarlet uniform came in view, how the girl's eyes
strained after it, thinking of one impossible, improbable chance
of a recognition! Once or twice she thought of a far more terrible
chance, and wondered whether Lady Belamour knew how little confidence
could be placed in Loveday; but she was sure that their expedition
was my lady's own device, and the fresh air and motion, with all the
new scenes, were so delightful to her that she could not dwell on any
alarms.
On, on, Redriffe, as the watermen named Rotherhithe, was on one bank,
the marshes of the Isle of Dogs were gay with white cotton-grass and
red rattle on the other. Then came the wharves and building yards of
Deptford, and beyond them rose the trees of Greenwich Park, while the
river below exhibited a forest of masts. The boat stopped at a
landing-place to a little garden, with a sanded path, between herbs
and flowers. "This is Mistress Darke's," said Loveday, and as a
little dwarfish lad came to the gate, she said, "We would speak
with your mistress."
"On your own part?'
"From the great lady in Hanover Square."
The lad came down to assist in their landing, and took them up the
path to a little cupboard of a room, scented with a compound of every
imaginable perfume. Bottles of every sort of essence, pomade, and
cosmetic were ranged on shelves, or within glass doors, interspersed
with masks, boxes for patches, bunches of false hair, powder puffs,
curling-irons, and rare feathers. An alembic [a device used in
distillation--D.L.] was in the fireplace, and pen and ink, in a
strangely-shaped standish, were on the table. Altogether there was
something uncanny about the look and air of the room which made
Aurelia tremble, especially as she perceived that Loveday was both
frightened and distressed.
The mistress of the establishment speedily appeared. She had been a
splendid Jewish beauty, and still in middle age, had great owl-like
eyes, and a complexion that did her credit to her arts; but there was
something indescribably repulsive in her fawning, deferential curtsey,
as she said, in a flattering tone, with a slightly foreign accent,
"The pretty lady is come, as our noble dame promised, to explain to
the poor Cora Darke the great queen's secret! Ah! how good it is to
have learning. What would not my clients give for such a skin as
hers! And I have many more, and greater than you would think, come
to poor Cora's cottage. There was a countess here but yesterday to
ask how to blanch the complexion of miladi her daughter, who is about
to wed a young baronet, beautiful as Love. Bah! I might as well try
to whiten a clove gillyflower! Yet what has not nature done for this
lovely miss?"
"Shall I read you the paper?" said Aurelia, longing to end this part
of the affair.
"Be seated, fair and gracious lady."
Aurelia tried to wave aside a chair, but Mrs. Darke, on the plea of
looking over the words as she read, got her down upon a low couch,
putting her own stout person and hooked face in unpleasant proximity,
while she asked questions, and Aurelia mentioned her own conjectures
on the obsolete French of the recipe, while she perceived, to her
alarm, that the woman understood the technical terms much better than
she did, and that her ignorance could have been only an excuse.
At last it was finished, and she rose, saying it was time to return
to the boat.
"Nay, madam, that cannot be yet," said Loveday; "the watermen are gone
to rest and dine, and we must wait for the tide to shoot the bridge."
"Then pray let us go out and walk in Greenwich Park," exclaimed Aurelia,
longing to escape from this den.
"The sweet young lady will take something in the meantime?" said Mrs.
Darke.
"I thank you, I have breakfasted," said Aurelia.
"My Lady intended us to eat here," said Loveday in an undertone to
her young lady, as their hostess bustled out. "She will make it
good to Mrs. Darke."
"I had rather go to the inn--I have money--or sit in the park," she
added as Loveday looked as if going to the inn were an improper
proposal. "Could we not buy a loaf and eat in the park? I should
like it so much better."
"One cup of coffee," said Mrs. Darke, entering; "the excellent Mocha
that I get from the Turkey captains."
She set down on a small table a wonderful cup of Eastern porcelain, and
some little sugared cakes, and Aurelia, not to be utterly ungracious,
tasted one, and began on the coffee, which was so hot that it had to
be taken slowly. As she sipped a soothing drowsiness came over her,
which at first was accounted for by the warm room after her row on
the river; but it gained upon her, and instead of setting out for
her walk she fell sound asleep in the corner of the couch.
"It has worked. It is well," said Mrs. Darke, lifting the girl's feet
on the couch, and producing a large pair of scissors.
Loveday could not repress a little shriek.
"Hush!" as the woman untied the black silk hood, drew it gently off,
and then undid the ribbon that confined the victim's abundant tresses.
"Bah! it will be grown by the time she arrives, and if not so long as
present, what will they know of it? It will be the more agreeable
surprise! Here, put yonder cloth under her head while I hold it up."
"I cannot," sobbed Loveday. "This is too much. I never would have
entered my Lady's service if I had known I was to be set to such as
this."
"Come, come, Grace Loveday, I know too much of you for you to come
the Presician over me."
"Such a sweet innocent! So tender-hearted and civil too."
"Bless you, woman, you don't know what's good for her! She will be
a very queen over the black slaves on the Indies. Captain Karen will
tell you how the wenches thank him for having brought 'em out. They
could never do any good here, you know, poor lasses; but out there,
where white women are scarce, they are ready to worship the very
ground they tread upon."
"I tell you she ain't one of that sort. She is a young lady of birth,
a cousin of my Lady's own, as innocent as a babe, and there are two
gentlemen, if not three, a dying for her."
"I lay you anything not one of 'em is worth old Mr. Van Draagen, who
turns his thousands every month. 'Send me out a lady lass,' says he,
'one that will do me credit with the governor's lady.' Why she will
have an estate as big as from here to Dover, and slaves to wait on
her, so as she need never stoop to pick up her glove. He has been
married twice before, and his last used to send orders for the best
brocades in London. He stuck at no expense. The Queen has not finer
gowns!"
"But to think of the poor child's waking up out at sea."
"Oh! Mrs. Karen will let her know she may think herself well off. I
never let 'em go unless there's a married woman aboard to take charge
of them, and that's why I kept your lady waiting till the _Red Cloud_
was ready to sail. You may tell her Ladyship she could not have a
better berth, and she'll want for nothing. I know what is due to the
real quality, and I've put aboard all the toilette, and linen, and
dresses as was bespoke for the last Mrs. Van Draagen, and there's a
civil spoken wench aboard, what will wait on her for a consideration."
"Nay, but mistress," said Loveday, whispering: "I know those that
would give more than you will ever get from my Lady if they found
her safe here."
"Of course there are, or she would not be here now," said Mrs. Darke,
with a horrid grin; "but that won't do, my lass. A lady that's
afraid of exposure will pay you, if she pawns her last diamond, but
a gentleman--why, he gets sick of his fancy, and snaps his fingers
at them that helped him!" Then, looking keenly at Loveday, "You've
not been playing me false, eh?"
"O no, no," hastily exclaimed Loveday, cowering at the malignant look.
"If so be you have, Grace Loveday, two can play at that game," said
Mrs. Darke composedly. "There, I have left her enough to turn back.
What hair it is! Feel the weight of it! There's not another head
of the mouse-colour to match your Lady's in the kingdom," she added,
smoothing out the severed tresses with the satisfaction of a
connoisseur. "No wonder madame could not let this be wasted on the
plantations, when you and I and M. le Griseur know her own hair is
getting thinner than she would wish a certain Colonel to guess.
There! the pretty dear, what a baby she looks! I will tie her on
a cowl, lest she should take cold on the river. See these rings.
Did you Lady give no charge about them?"
"I had forgot!" said the waiting-woman, confused; "she charged me to
bring them back, old family jewels, she said, that must not be carried
off to foreign parts; but I cannot, cannot do it. To rob that pretty
creature in her sleep."
"Never fear. She'll soon have a store much finer than these! You
fool, I tell you she will not wake these six or eight hours. Afraid?
There, I'll do it! Ho! A ruby? A love-token, I wager; and what's
this? A carved Cupid. I could turn a pretty penny by that, when
your lady finds it convenient, and her luck at play goes against her.
Eh! is this a wedding-ring? Best take that off; Mr. Van Draagen
might not understand it, you see. Here they are. Have you a patch-
box handy for them in your pocket? Why what ails the woman? You
may thank your stars there's some one here with her wits about her!
None of your whimpering, I say, her comes Captain Karen."
Two seafaring men here came up the garden path, the foremost small
and dapper, with a ready address and astute countenance. "All right,
Mother Darkness, is our consignment ready? Aye, aye! And the
freight?"
"This lady has it," said Mrs. Darke, pointing to Loveday; "I have
been telling her she need have no fears for her young kinswoman in
your hands, Captain."
He swore a round oath to that effect, and looking at the sleeping
maiden, again swore that she was the choicest piece of goods ever
confided to him, and that he knew better than let such an article
arrive damaged. Mr. Van Draagen ought to come down handsomely
for such an extra fine sample; but in the meantime he accepted
the rouleau of guineas that Loveday handed to him, the proceeds,
as she told Mrs. Darke, of my Lady's winnings last night at loo.
All was ready. Poor Aurelia was swathed from head to foot in a large
mantle, like the chrysalis whose name she bore, the two sailors took
her up between them, carried her to their boat, and laid her along in
the stern. Then they pushed off and rowed down the river. Loveday
looked up and looked down, then sank on the steps, convulsed with
grief, sobbing bitterly. "She said He could deliver her from the
mouth of lions! And He has not," she murmured under her breath,
in utter misery and hopelessness.
CHAPTER XXXIV. DOWN THE RIVER.
The lioness, ye may move her
To give o'er her prey,
But ye'll ne'er stop a lover,
He will find out the way.
Elizabeth Delavie and her little brother were standing in the bay
window of their hotel, gazing eagerly along the street in hopes of
seeing the Major return, when Sir Amyas was seen riding hastily up
on his charger, in full accoutrements, with a soldier following.
In another moment he had dashed up stairs, and saying, "Sister,
read that!" put into Betty's hand a slip of paper on which was
written in pencil--
"If Sir A. B. would not have his true love kidnapped to the plantations,
he had best keep watch on the river gate of Mistress Darke's garden
at Greenwich. No time to lose."
"Who brought you this?" demanded Betty, as well as she could speak
for horror.
"My mother's little negro boy, Syphax. He says Mrs. Loveday, her
waiting-woman, gave it to him privately on the stairs, as she was
about to get into a sedan, telling him I would give him a crown if
he gave it me as I came off parade."
"Noon! Is there time?"
"Barely, but there shall be time. There is no time to seek your
father."
"No, but I must come with you."
"The water is the quickest way. There are stairs near. I'll send
my fellow to secure a boat."
"I will be ready instantly, while you tell your uncle. It might be
better if he came."
Sir Amyas flew to his uncle's door, but found him gone out, and, in
too great haste to inquire further, came down again to find Betty in
cloak and hood. He gave her his arm, and, Eugene trotting after them,
they hurried to the nearest stairs, remembering in dire confirmation
what Betty had heard from the school-girl. Both had heard reports
that young women were sometimes thus deported to become wives to the
planters in the southern colonies or the West Indies, but that such
a destiny should be intended for their own Aurelia, and by Lady
Belamour, was scarcely credible. Doubts rushed over Betty, but she
remembered what the school-girl had said of the captive being sent
beyond seas; and at any rate, she must risk the expedition being
futile when such issues hung upon it. And if they failed to meet her
father, she felt that her presence might prevail when the undefined
rights of so mere a lad as her companion might be disregarded.
His soldier servant had secured a boat, and they rapidly descended
to the river; Sir Amyas silent between suspense, dismay and shame
for his mother, and Betty trying to keep Eugene quiet by hurried
answers to his eager questions about all he saw. They had to get
out at London Bridge, and take a fresh boat on the other side, a
much larger one, with two oarsmen, and a grizzled old coxswain, with
a pleasant honest countenance, who presently relieved Betty of all
necessity of attending to, or answering, Eugene's chatter.
"Do you know where this garden is?" said she, leaning across to Sir
Amyas, who had engaged the boat to go to Greenwich.
He started as if it were a new and sudden thought, and turning to the
steersman demanded whether he knew Mrs. Darke's garden.
The old man gave a kind of grunt, and eyed the trio interrogatively,
the young officer with his fresh, innocent, boyish face and brilliant
undisguised uniform, the handsome child, the lady neither young, gay,
nor beautiful, but unmistakeably a decorous gentlewoman.
"Do you know Mrs. Darke's?" repeated Sir Amyas.
"Aye, do I? Mayhap I know more about the place than you do."
There was that about his face that moved Betty and the young man to
look at one another, and the former said, "She has had to do with--
evil doings?"
"You may say that, ma'am."
"Then," they cried in one breath, "you will help us!" And in a very
few words Betty explained their fears for her young sister, and asked
whether he thought the warning possible.
"I've heard tell of such things!" said the old man between his teeth,
"and Mother Darkness is one to do 'em. Help you to bring back the
poor young lass? That we will, if we have to break down the door
with our fists. And who is this young spark? Her brother or her
sweetheart?"
"Her husband!" said Sir Amyas. "Her husband from whom she has been
cruelly spirited away. Aid me to bring her back, my good fellow, and
nothing would be too much to reward you."
"Aye, aye, captain, Jem Green's not the man to see an English girl
handed over to they slave-driving, outlandish chaps. But I say, I
wish you'd got a cloak or summat to put over that scarlet and gold
of yourn. It's a regular flag to put the old witch on her guard."
On that summer's day, however, no cloak was at hand. They went down
the river very rapidly, for the tide was running out and at length
Jem Green pointed out the neat little garden. On the step sat a
woman, apparently weeping bitterly. Could it be the object of their
search? No, but as they came nearer, and she was roused so as to
catch sight of the scarlet coat, she beckoned and gesticulated with
all her might; and as they approached Sir Amyas recognised her as
his mother's maid.
"You will be in time yet," she cried breathlessly. "Oh! take me in,
or you won't know the ship!"
So eager and terrified was she, that but for the old steersman's
peremptory steadiness, her own life and theirs would have been in
much peril, but she was safely seated at last, gasping out, "The
_Red Cloud_, Captain Karen. They've been gone these ten minutes."
"Aye, aye," gruffly responded Green, and the oars moved rapidly, while
Loveday with another sob cried, "Oh! sir, I thought you would never
come!"
"You sent the warning?"
Yes, sir, I knew nothing till the morning, when my Lady called me
up. I lie in her room, you know. She had given orders, and I was
to take the sweet lady and go down the river with her to Mrs. Darke,
the perfuming woman my Lady has dealings with about here hair and
complexion. There I was to stay with her till--till this same sea-
captain was to come and carry her off where she would give no more
trouble. Oh, sir, it was too much--and my Lady knew it, for she
had tied my hands so that I had but a moment to scribble down that
scrip, and bid Syphax take it to you. The dear lady! she said, 'her
God could deliver her out of the mouth of the lion,' and I could not
believe it! I thought it too late!"
"How can we thank you," began Betty; but she was choked by intense
anxiety, and Jem Green broke in with an inquiry where the ship was
bound for. Loveday only had a general impression of the West Indies,
and believed that the poor lady's destined spouse was a tobacconist,
and as the boat was soon among a forest of shipping where it could
not proceed so fast, Green had to inquire of neighbouring mariners
where the _Red Cloud_ was lying.
"The _Red Cloud_, Karen, weighs anchor for Carolina at flood tide
to-night. Shipper just going aboard," they were told.
Their speed had been so rapid that they were in time to see the
boat alongside, and preparations being made to draw up some one
or something on board. "Oh! that is she!" cried Loveday in great
agitation. "They've drugged her. No harm done. She don't know
it. But it is she!"
Sir Amyas, with a voice of thunder, called out, "Halt, villain," at
the same moment as Green shouted "Avast there, mate!" And their boat
came dashing up alongside.
"Yield me up that lady instantly, fellow!" cried Sir Amyas, with his
sword half drawn.
"And who are you, I should like to know," returned Karen, coolly,
"swaggering at an honest man taking his freight and passengers
aboard?"
"I'll soon show you!"
"Hush, sir," said Green, who had caught sight of pistols and cutlasses,
"let me speak a moment. Look you here, skipper, this young gentleman
and lady have right on their side. This is her sister, and he is her
husband. They are people of condition, as you see."
"All's one to me on the broad seas."
"That may be," said Green, "but you see you can't weigh anchor these
three hours or more; and what's to hinder the young captain here from
swearing against you before a magistrate, and getting your vessel
searched, eh?"
"I've no objection to hear reason if I'm spoke to reasonable," said
Karen, sulkily; "but I'll not be bullied like a highwayman, when I've
my consignment regularly made out, and the freight down in hand,
square."
"You may keep your accursed passage-money and welcome," cried Sir
Amyas, "so you'll only give me my wife!"
"Show him the certificate," whispered Betty.
Sir Amyas had it ready, and he read it loud enough for all on the
Thames to hear. Karen gave a sneering little laugh. "What's that
to me? My passenger here has her berth taken in the name of Ann
Davis."
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