Suki, p.34
Suki, page 34
‘You are kind to say so,’ Hermione murmured, thinking what good breeding he had. And all gone to nothing. The pity of it! She cast about to find something else to say but at that point Benjy stirred from a snorting sleep on the chaise longue and lumbered to his feet to investigate the newcomer, giving a few preliminary growls by way of greeting.
Sir Humphrey lifted him deftly on the toe of one elegant shoe, deposited him outside the door, and shut it firmly. ‘I think not, sir,’ he said. ‘We have enough to contend with, have we not, dear lady?’
The dear lady had to agree, partly because she was hardly in a position to do otherwise and partly because the awful nature of their social commitments had come pressing back into her mind. ‘’Od’s my life!’ she said, her fingers to her lips in dismay. ‘We are due to dine with Lady Fosdyke at three. What is to be done? ’Tis too late to cancel, I fear.’
‘Cancel? My dear lady!’ Sir Humphrey said, aghast at the very idea. ‘By no means cancel. Face it out, me dear. ’Tis the only possible way, We will make apologies for your daughter’s absence — a chill perhaps, you will know the likeliest cause — enjoy our meal, as much as we are able, which I fear will be little given the circumstances, and return. We shall have news before nightfall, depend upon it.’
She wasn’t comforted. ‘I do not see how. She has fled.’
‘There are two roads out of Bath,’ he explained, ‘and farms a-plenty all along the way. Fee posts, dear lady, set in position, ready to serve. Offer the right fee and I’ll lay any money, you will hear of your runaway by morning.’
Hermione deferred to her husband. ‘What do you think, my love?’
He raised his shoulders and his eyebrows in despair. ‘Think?’ he said. ‘I’m past thought. I doubt if I shall ever think again.’ But he tried to be gracious, even in desperation. ‘Howsomever, he may be right.’
‘Never doubt it,’ Sir Humphrey said warmly. ‘Send two men, with good horses and full purses, and you shall see how well we fare. If they are flown ’twill be to Bristol or London, and either way we shall follow.’
Sir George sighed. ‘But what then?’
‘The new law will stop a hasty marriage. Unwed, the lady will return to sense. If we move swiftly, a scandal may yet be averted.’
‘Would it could be so,’ Sir George said, ‘but you forget the player, arrant rogue, that he is.’
‘All men have a price,’ Sir Humphrey drawled. ‘We shall find his. Send for her maid and enquire what dresses are taken. I’ll lay she’s worn her best, and a good bold colour with any luck. Then send your man.’
Nobody below stairs was the least bit surprised to hear of Sir Humphrey’s treacherous advice and, to Suki’s dismay, most of them shared his worldly opinion.
‘He’s onny an actor,’ Cook said, ‘an’ gold’s uncommon persuasive to the acting trade. They’ll buy him off as easy as winking.’
Suki sprang to his defence before she could stop to think of the consequences. ‘Not if he loves her,’ she said stoutly. ‘If he loves her, he’ll stick to her through thick and thin. Love ain’t open to bribery.’
‘If ’tis love, I might agree with ’ee,’ Hepzie sneered. ‘But she’s took her best silk gown and twenty crowns. So money is of some consequence, I should hazard.’
‘If that’s the case,’ the newest kitchen maid said, ‘he’m after her money. Poor soul. ’Tis the same the world over.’
‘You know nothing of it,’ Suki said angrily. ‘So hold your peace.’ Then, and too late, she realised that they were all looking at her, some much surprised and some a deal too knowing, and she wished she’d stayed silent.
‘Hoity-toity!’ Hepzie mocked. ‘Are you paid to defend ’em? Is that it?’
It was a straight question and had to be answered. ‘No I aren’t. An’ if I were ’tis none of your concern.’
‘I might make it my concern,’ Hepzie warned and was delighted when Suki blushed. ‘Seems to me you know a deal more than you should. Seems to me you had a hand in it.’
Suki fought back hard, remembering her lie to milady. ‘I only just this minute arrived,’ she said. ‘I ’aven’t had time to have a hand in nothin.’
They bristled at one another, both thinking of a retort.
‘’Tis my belief,’ the new maid said, chopping parsley vigorously, ‘there aren’t no such thing as true love. ’Tis a concoction of poets. Most of us marry for money when all’s said an’ done. I know I would.’
‘Her father got a powerful rich husband for her by all accounts,’ Cook said. ‘A duke or some such. She should ha’ stayed home an’ married him. She don’t know when she’m well off, an’ that’s my opinion of it.’
‘But if she loves the actor,’ Bessie offered, her face anxious. ‘Nobody marries for love,’ Hepzie told her. ‘That ain’t the way of the world. You marry where your father chooses for you if you’ve any sense. An’ if you ain’t got a father to look out for you, you marry the richest man you can find to offer. That’s what I mean to do. Love don’t come into it.’
‘Well then, you’m wrong,’ Suki said. ‘Love’s the most important thing and nobody has the right to choose your husband for you. That’s your affair. Yours an’ his.’
‘Oh, oh! So that’s the size of it!’ Hepzie mocked. ‘You’re still singing that old song. I’d ha’ thought you’d’ve learned better by now. Well let me tell you, Suki Brown, there ain’t another person in this house would say such foolish things.’
‘That aren’t foolish,’ Suki fought on, ‘’tis right. Our fathers don’t own us.’
‘Since when? Course they own us. Our fathers own us an’ our husbands own us an’ our employers own us. ’Tis the way things are. If we ’ave any power in anything ’tis by stealth and well you know it. ’Tis the way of the world.’
‘Then the world’s wrong. Ask any true lover an’ they’ll tell you different.’
‘An’ you’re a true lover, I suppose,’ Hepzie said tartly. ‘An’ that husband of yours, we all hear so much about and never see, he’s a true lover, too. You love him an’ he loves you. We don’t exactly see him rushin’ homewards to his true love, do we, though? ’Tis my belief he don’t exist.’
‘He do,’ Suki said, eyes flashing. ‘He’ll come home soon. You’ll see. ’Tis a matter of time, that’s all.’
‘He’s been gone years, to my certain knowledge.’
‘He’m on a slaver. They take years.’
‘Aye,’ Hepzie sneered. ‘So you say.’
‘They’m a-ringing for you, Hepzibah,’ Cook said, glancing up at the bell board, and glad of an excuse to bring the quarrel to an end. Hepzie had right on her side, but she could be uncommon sharp.
’Twas a mistake to speak out so, Suki thought, as Hepzie flounced from the room. I should have held my peace. Now she’m suspicious and will tell tales. She still felt embattled, even though her adversary was gone, for the scullery maids were looking at her most oddly. ‘How hot ’tis in this kitchen,’ she said, fanning her cheeks. ‘I shall take William out in the air for an hour or two to cool un. Milady aren’t like to call for us again being they’re out at the Fosdykes’.’
‘’Tis a-comin on to rain,’ Cook warned.
But Suki already had her bonnet on. Now that she’d made up her mind, she couldn’t stop in the house a minute longer. I shall visit the Spring Gardens, she said to herself. There wouldn’t be anyone there to talk to, so she wouldn’t say the wrong things. ’Twould be peaceful there. ’Tis a pretty place. ‘William likes pretty flowers. Don’t you, my pet lamb? I’ll be back in time to help with supper.’
Chapter 24
The Spring Gardens were in full summer bloom and looked extremely fine, every flower peculiarly brightly coloured under a grape-blue sky and every bed perfectly symmetrical. There wasn’t a leaf out of line, nor a shrub out of place. Arcades stretched to north and south, tree-lined walks paved with gravel, and each with its own leafy arch, led in every direction, and in the central rotunda a band played soothing music beneath a ceiling painted to resemble the sky at night. It was the hour of the afternoon promenade and the parades were crowded with new arrivals, all trimmed and titivated ready for admiration, the ladies exquisite in embroidered gowns, the gentlemen dazzling in velvet coats and silk breeches.
As Suki arrived, they were gathering beside the rotunda where three rows of gilded seats had been set to receive them. ’Twill be some marvel to attract ’em so, Suki thought, so she joined the crowd too, standing behind the little chairs at a respectful distance from their finery. Her entry ticket had cost more than she’d expected, so she might as well take her money’s worth and an hour’s idle entertainment was just what she needed to take her mind from her troubles.
The marvel was an extremely fat person who dressed like a man and sang like a woman, with a high-pitched echoing voice that Suki didn’t like at all. But the sugar merchants were enraptured by him and applauded his first offering most enthusiastically, so she stayed where she was at the edge of the crowd to see what would happen next. After a while, a flautist arrived in a patched coat and a moth-eaten wig, and he and the singer rearranged themselves in front of the band with a great deal of hand waving and chair scraping. Then the singer polished his forehead with a kerchief as large as a pillow case, and the introduction to the second aria began.
Suki was wondering idly whether the flautist would be better or worse than the singer when she became aware that a group of rough-looking men had taken up positions immediately behind her, and were standing a deal too close for comfort. She edged sideways through the crowd so as to avoid them, but they followed, pressing so hard against her back that she feared for William’s safety. Pick-pockets, she thought, and was surprised that she felt no fear. But she’d hardly taken another step before a rough arm grabbed her round the waist and an even rougher hand was fumbling at her petticoat. Her parasol hung unopened on her left arm, and it made a splendid weapon. She stabbed it backwards against the legs of her assailant, and while he shifted round to avoid her blows, she ran, dodging through the crowd despite their displeasure. The merchants, seated in their glittering circle around the stage, took no notice whatsoever.
The walk was almost empty, so she ran like a greyhound, straight down the centre, her lungs straining and William bobbing on her back. Within seconds, her bonnet flew from her head and was lost in the bushes, but she couldn’t stop to retrieve it because she could hear feet thudding after her and a rough voice yelling, ‘Grab her, Johnny. She got somethin’ worth the taking or she wouldn’t run.’
She wondered briefly whether to turn and argue with them but it was too late, they had already caught up with her, three swarthy, sweating men, in stained coats and soiled linen, pulling at her skirts to impede her, thrusting their odious faces at her, mouthing at her with stinking breath.
‘Leave me be,’ she panted, struggling out of their grip.
‘Why, ’tis the Captain’s wench,’ one said, holding her face in the vice of his fingers. ‘Look ’ee here, Spider.’
Her thoughts were muddled with fear and loathing. ‘Leave me be,’ she said again, ‘or I shall tell the Captain how you treat me. Do way your hands.’
A mouthful of broken teeth moved into her line of vision and another voice said, ‘You won’t tell the Captain nothing, you stupid wench. On account of he ain’t here, an’ he ain’t the man for the likes of you. He’s a gentleman of the road, is the Captain, an’ may take any wench he chooses.’
He had a hand down inside her bodice fumbling her breasts — how dare he! — and William was screaming in sharp staccato cries that roused her to a surge of protective fury. How dare he do this! How dare he frighten her baby! Odious filthy creature! She turned in a storm of fear and anger and beat him about the ears with her parasol, kicking and screaming, so that a group of promenaders, who’d just turned into the walk, were stopped in their stride and began to gather about them. At that, her attackers drew back and hesitated, and that gave her the chance she needed. She ducked beneath the nearest arm and ran for the exit. Beyond the bushes she could see the ferrymen casting off. If she could only run fast enough, she could be aboard and away before they caught up with her again.
‘Wait!’ she yelled as she ran. ‘Oh, wait for me, do!’ And to her great relief, the ferryman waited, steadying his narrow skiff as the river waves slapped against its sides, and he and his passengers watched as she tumbled down the bank and scrambled aboard, panting and weeping. But safe.
They were all mightily interested in her adventure and said it was a crying shame for pockets to be picked in broad daylight, so it was, and something should be done about it. And gradually their sympathy eased her distress. Soon she was telling them the tale and being commended for her level-headedness as they creaked their way back across the river. But when they landed in Boat Stalle Lane, she knew that the attack had exhausted her. She was compelled to sit on the bank with William on her lap for comfort and try to recover a little. It had been a disastrous outing.
‘Oh, my William,’ she said as she cuddled his damp face against her cheek. ‘I haven’t seen so bad a day as this for many a year. First Mrs Roper up and gone, and then the actors uncaring and Hepzie hateful — and now this. We got the stars against us today an’ no mistake.’ And as if to underscore her misery, it began to rain.
Short though it was, the walk back to South Parade stretched before her like a five-mile march. ‘Come now,’ she said to herself as she hoisted William on to her back again. ‘This will never do.’ And she began to sing as she trudged, to cheer them both up. ‘Oh up she got, and home did trot, as fast as she could caper.’ But she was still so cast down that she paid no attention to the people who jostled beside her, nor to the carts and horses in the road. Even when a voice called her name in a questioning way, she didn’t bother to look up.
But it called again. And again. ‘Suki Brown! Do you walk to South Parade?’ And she looked up at last and saw that it was Farmer Lambton, sitting astride the Captain’s beautiful horse and looking down at her with patient concern.
‘Oh, Farmer Lambton,’ she said and, despite herself, her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’ve had such a day of it, you never would believe. I been set upon by pick-pockets in the Spring Gardens, of all places. You can’t imagine how good it is to see you!’
He dismounted carefully and lifted her into the saddle, without a word, sitting her astride with William before her. Then, as he walked beside her through the crowded street, he questioned her gently. What had happened? Was ought stolen? Was she harmed? And satisfied that she was only shaken, he led them through the Abbey Gardens to the nearest tea house and bought a dish for them both, and a sop for William.
‘A restorative,’ he said as the steaming bowls were laid before them. ‘Sip it slowly. ’Twill be of more benefit that way. William will sit on my knee for a minute or two.’ Which William did and was as good as gold, back with a familiar face, sucking his sop and regarding the company. So Suki recovered sip by sip, and the colour washed back into her cheeks, the frown eased from her forehead and she became her pretty self again.
‘Time for home,’ he said as she set down her empty cup.
‘’Tis uncommon kind of you, sir,’ she said thanking him as he lifted her on to Beau’s back again. It was raining harder now and their clothes were getting damp. She opened her parasol, hoping it would give William some protection. ‘I’ve put you out of your way, I fear.’
‘No,’ he said, settling William in front of her and untying the reins. ‘My way is yours this afternoon. I’ve come to see your master.’
’Twill be on account of Beau being left on the farm, Suki thought. He wants to know when I’ll be able to take him. ‘I haven’t had a chance to talk about the horse,’ she volunteered, holding the parasol over her son’s head. ‘We been at sixes an’ sevens today.’
‘Aye,’ he said, ‘so I understand. That’s why I’m here. I’ve come to see Sir George about his daughter.’
Her heart sank. ‘Not Miss Ariadne?’
‘She passed the farm this afternoon,’ he told her. The rain was dripping from the brim of his hat but he paid no attention to it at all. ‘She and her lover. Tipped into the ditch, down by Seven Acre Field, sometime around noon. One wheel stuck fast. I sent your father down with Ned to haul them out. I knowd who they were the minute I clapped eyes on ’em, for I saw them both at the theatre the night I took Mrs Lambton to the play. Which I daresay you remember. So when Sir George’s man come a-riding by, asking if we’d any knowledge of ’em, I knew ’twas my duty to report it.’
Suki was aghast. She had to dissuade him quickly, before they reached the house. She couldn’t have them hunted down. ‘’Tis a love match,’ she said. ‘They’ve run away to marry.’
That didn’t alter his purpose at all. ‘Be like,’ he said, and he spoke the word carelessly.
She looked at him earnestly through the rain. The parasol had split and was now leaking water all over William’s head. ‘Then you won’t peach on ’em,’ she said as she tried to turn it into a better position.
‘It ain’t a matter of peaching,’ he told her seriously. ‘She is engaged to marry another.’
‘But she don’t love him.’ The water was pouring over her own head now and running off the bridge of her nose.
‘Marriage is too important to be left to mere liking,’ he said, stolidly leading the horse. ‘Her father has made a good match for her, so ’tis his plain duty to bring her home to honour her commitments. Any father would do the same. My plain duty is to help in any way I can. They are runaways.’
How can he do such a thing? Suki thought mutinously. Mr Lambton of all people. Mr Lambton, the stolid, dependable, sensible… Why don’t he understand? ‘Oh, Mr Lambton,’ she pleaded. ‘Pray don’t peach on ’em, I beg you. They love each other. They really do.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ he said in his unruffled way. ‘But whether they do or not, ’tis no concern of mine, nor should it be of yours. Her father wants her found and that is all we need to know. He is fearful of Mr Clements’s intentions.’
