CHAPTER XXXV

THE YOUNG MAN FROM BEER

To Mr. Holwood it afforded pleasure to be able to walk in Pulteney Street with a fresh, pretty daughter on his arm.

For the first time for many years the old buck held up his head and strutted proudly. He had the handle of his rattan to his mouth. His white beaver hat sat jauntily on his head, a little on one side, and his gold-framed glass was in his eye.

He thoroughly enjoyed the looks of admiration wherewith his daughter was greeted. Well dressed she now was. Her costume was no longer of country make; but what man gives a thought to the dress when the frame it encloses is graceful and the face within the bonnet is charming?

Mr. Holwood saluted with consequence when an acquaintance passed in a carriage, as one who was conferring the favour of recognition in place of receiving it. An occasional walker caught his eye and bowed, then, seeing the young lady on his arm, drew to him and asked, 'Introduce me, Mr. Holwood.'

The father chuckled with delight, and his frilled shirt-front seemed to rise like the crest of a turkey-cock.

Winefred and her father had not been gone many minutes from the house before the house-door bell was again rung, this time with no accompanying rap.

The maid soon after came to announce that a young man from near Axmouth was below, waiting, and had brought a hamper for Mrs. Tomkin-Jones from Mrs. Jose of Bindon.

'We cannot receive him in the drawing-room,' said the widow. 'Jane, show him into the dining apartment.' Then to her daughter: 'I suppose I must give him a shilling. Have you any change, Sylvana?'

'Upstairs, mamma.'

'Well, bring it to me below. I must thank him for his trouble and inquire after Mrs. Jose, and offer him a glass of ale.'

'Do you think a shilling sufficient remuneration, mamma?'

'Humph! Half-a-crown is a good deal of money. It makes a sensible hole in a sovereign. We are not supposed to know, my dear, what the basket contains――possibly only watercress, and for that a shilling would be ample.' Then to the servant who tarried: 'Jane!'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'What has the young man brought? Did he intimate to you what was the contents of the hamper?'

'A pair of spring chickens, ma'am.'

'Then, Sylvana, eighteenpence is ample――ample. Bring the silver to me in the dining-room. I will hold my hand behind my back――or, stay! No. I have left my pocket-handkerchief above, and whilst giving me that, slip the change into my hand. Do not be long, as with this sort of people one does not know what to say.'

Mrs. Tomkin-Jones descended majestically to the red dining-room in which Jack Rattenbury was awaiting her, looking like a soul in purgatory. He at once handed her the maund, and stated that it was a little remembrance from Mrs. Jose.

'How good of you! I really am eternally obliged. And so you have come all the way from Axmouth? Not on purpose to bring this, I trust?'

'Oh no, ma'am. I am here on business for my master.'

'What, Mr. Jose?'

'No, madam, I am in the Beer quarries with Mrs. Jose's brother, who works them. I have come to Bath on concerns of the quarry.'

'Quite so. It is very good of you. A fine day this with drifting clouds; the sun is hot, but the wind cold. You have, no doubt, found it to be so?'

'Yes, ma'am; but the weather does not trouble me greatly.'

'And how is that excellent Mrs. Jose?'

'She is well, active, and as good as ever. There is not a woman for miles about more respected than Mrs. Jose. I may even say, more beloved.'

'Very pleased to hear it, and suitable to one in her situation. Oh! thank you, Sylvana. This is most considerate of you. How can I have been so neglectful as to leave my pocket-kerchief behind. I fear my memory is not what it was.' To Jack: 'I have had trials that wear a lady.' She then accepted the handkerchief from her daughter, and at the same time closed her fingers and thumb over the change, and passed it into the palm of her hand. Then to Jack: 'You will be so good as to thank Mrs. Jose on my behalf.'

'Would it not be more gracious, mamma,' said Sylvana, 'for you to write? It might, you know, extract further favours.'

'My dear!' Mrs. Tomkin-Jones frowned, then, 'Ah, to be sure. I was intending to do so. The ink and a blotting book are in the room, but the pens are cross-nibbed. However, I trust I shall manage――oh!'

The exclamation was elicited by the fall of the sixpence from her hand upon the floor. But Mrs. T.-J. was equal to the occasion; fixing the eyes of the visitor, she placed her foot on the coin, and executed that _pas_ termed by the dancing-master a _chasse_; and so reached the writing-table with the sixpence carried along under her sole.

She seated herself and began to write.

'I beg pardon,' said Jack Rattenbury, 'but may I be permitted to see Miss Holwood? I am the bearer of a message to her.'

'From Mrs. Marley?' asked Sylvana sharply.

'No, miss, from Mrs. Jose.'

'I suppose that you are acquainted with Mrs. Marley?' inquired Miss Jones.

'I have seen her,' answered Rattenbury.

'But you know something about her, I presume?'

'As to her age?'

'No,' retorted Sylvana with sharpness. 'As to who she was, whence she came, what her circumstances.'

'She was certainly at one time younger than she is now; she lives on one side of the Axe,' answered the young man, without a muscle in his face changing, 'and there exists a ferry between the Axmouth and the Seaton side. I am at Beer, two miles distant from Seaton, and Seaton lies a quarter of a mile from the landing-stage of the ferry.'

Sylvana bit her lip. Was he stupid?

'Is Miss Holwood in?' he asked.

'No, she is not,' snapped Miss Jones. 'She is out at present with her father.'

'Her father!' Jack let the words escape in an accent of surprise.

'I suppose you know Mr. Holwood?' queried she.

'No, miss, I have never seen him.'

'But you have heard of him?'

'One has, of course, taken it for granted, if there is a Miss Holwood, that there is a Mr. Holwood also.'

Jack was aware that he was being pumped. It was done clumsily. He was conscious that, if pumped, it would be well for Winefred's sake that he should not reveal all that he knew.

Sylvana knitted her brows.

'You must have heard Mrs. Marley talked about?'

'Really, miss,' said Jack, 'at our works the men talk mostly of politics, and leave scandal for women.'

'Sylvana,' said Mrs. Tomkin-Jones severely, 'I cannot possibly compose a letter whilst conversation is going on behind my back. I have made a blotch of this letter and shall have to write it again. Just listen and say if this will do. "Dear Mrs. Jose,――Ten thousand thanks for those splendid spring chickens you have been so good as to send me. I think that I have never seen any before so plump, so delicate and toothsome."'

'But, ma'am,' insisted Jack, 'the hamper has not yet been opened.'

'Ah! true. I had best see the fowls. Will you kindly cut the twine, I have no knife. Sylvana, I must write this letter over again. Listen. "I have never seen before any so plump, so delicate and toothsome, and we all look forward to enjoy scandal for women!" There, you see what you have made me say. I must take another sheet and re-write my letter.'

* * * * *

In the meanwhile Winefred was walking with her father in Pulteney Street. Thence they entered Sydney Gardens.

'My dear child,' said Mr. Holwood, 'may I inquire who is that young gentleman, so elegantly dressed, whom you seemed to recognise, and who saluted you with such refinement of manner?'

'Oh! that is Mr. Frank Wardroper.'

'Really! Then the old gentleman in the bath-chair propelled by a black servant is Sir Barnaby? 'Pon my soul, what a wreck! and I remember him so different.'

With raised hat, and bows as graceful as those of Mr. Frank Wardroper, Mr. Holwood approached the chair and introduced himself.

The baronet held forth a shaky and contracted hand.

'Allow me to introduce my daughter,' said Holwood.

'Odds life!' exclaimed the baronet, 'I congratulate you. A charming face. But, bless me! Holwood, I did not know you had been married.'

'I had the misfortune to lose my wife early,' answered Winefred's father in some confusion.

'Ah! by gad! glad it was not I. What I should do without Lady Wardroper to dress me and help me feed I do not know. No valet comes quite up to a wife in these matters. The wind is tempered to the shorn lamb. Gad! I'm glad I did not lose my wife. But, there, you are no cripple, so it don't concern you. Have you married again?'

'No, Sir Barnaby.'

'Gad! I like that. Frank, my boy, mark that! It might go among "The Percy Anecdotes" as an example of fidelity.'

'Sir,' said Frank, 'if the mother at all resembled the daughter, he could do no other.'

'Very well put. The boy has wit,' said the baronet. 'Who was she? Any one I know?――or the family?'

'I fear not, Sir Barnaby. I am truly sorry to see you in this plight. How long has this been coming on you?'

'Gad! it has been slow in progress, and how long it will continue the Lord alone knows. I can enjoy nothing. The world has used me badly, crumpled me up like an old rag――and you?'

'And I?' Holwood became grave and his face livid. 'I am afraid that I am threatened with something more serious, more painful than your affliction. It may be that I shall be let off with the scare――it may be――――'

'Then, 'pon my soul! I'm sorry you lost your wife. Take my word for it, you can rely on a wife better than on a valet when _hors de combat_. I am sorry for you. Monstrous fine gal that.'

'My daughter――the pleasure of having her with me has for the moment taken me out of myself and made me forget my fears.'

'Taking the waters, Holwood? So am I, but they do me no good――harm rather. They are lowering. Excuse me, if I move on. Sambo! Sambo! Going to sleep there? I cannot remain still. I am liable to take a chill. Walk beside me, Holwood. Sambo! wheel me out of the gardens. I would ask you to dine, but, Lord! it is no pleasure. Lady Wardroper has the world of trouble to keep me clean. I cannot hold a knife and fork, and I spill the wine from my glass. However, it is her duty, and she likes it. Frank and the Missie can go on together. Walk by me, Holwood, and say something to amuse me. Gad! there is no wit in the world now. Lady Wardroper is all very well as a nurse, but she hasn't the faculty to answer me. Any new anecdotes out――epigrams? Any scandal? Ah! excuse me, I am having my twinges. Sambo! wheel me home. I must have my liniment rubbed in by Lady Wardroper. A good woman and useful, but dull.'

Mr. Holwood raised his hat.

As Sir Barnaby was being rolled away, he said to his son: 'Frank! A fine girl. Find out about her, who her mother was, and whether she left her a fortune. I did not know Holwood had been married; but he was a good-looking fellow, and rather a favourite with the ladies. Gad! So was I, and now I am this battered hulk! In the office, Holwood could not make any way. There will be a retiring pension, and his family is not amiss. Don't make more of an ass of yourself, Frank, than you are by nature. Do not commit yourself till she has been weighed and you have found her worth. Who the deuce is she talking with now? He looks like a seaman out for a holiday.'

The person whom Winefred met as she left the Sydney Gardens was Jack Rattenbury.

At sight of him she flushed to the temples. He came to her with deference in his manner. He could see that already she had stepped out of his sphere.

'So――you here?' said Winefred, in a tone expressive of annoyance.

'Yes――and an unwelcome sight.'

'Indifferent rather.'

'Who――who may this be?' asked her father.

'A young man from Seaton,' answered Winefred, in a tone of indifference; 'on that account it pleases him to address me.'

'Not on that account,' said Jack, 'but because I am commissioned to you with a letter from Mrs. Jose.'

He handed her a packet, folded and sealed.

'I thank you,' she said in a tone of constraint. 'Are you in Bath for long?'

'No; I return home to-morrow.'

'Home! I did not know that you possessed one.'

'Winefred!' said her father reproachfully.

'It is not my fault, but my misfortune, that I am homeless,' said Jack, looking the girl full in the face. And before his intense eyes her countenance fell. 'I understand you,' he said. 'The word was said with intention to hurt. But it hurts me only so far as it shows me what your intention was.'

'Did I hurt you?' asked Winefred, turning crimson. Then: 'I am sorry.'

But the expression of regret came too late, Jack had already walked away.