it was at night too, a week later, that lady betty’s coach rumbled up the long street at newmarket. but no moon shone; instead, the rain came down in torrents and the wind dashed it against the glass windows and rattled and shook the heavy doors, while the horses slipped and floundered, knee deep in mud; the great coach itself lurched heavily out of one huge rut into another, and the postilions, dripping and profane, cracked their whips and shouted. lady clancarty and her attendants, alice lynn and the woman, melissa thurle, bounced about within the vehicle, coming now and then into collision with endless boxes and bundles, a part only of the countess’ impedimenta, the most perishable, and therefore gathered within the carriage to save it from the deluge, instead of being strapped on top with the heavier luggage.
through the moist darkness lights began to twinkle. as they neared the inn these lanterns[pg 43] increased in numbers, their yellow radiance dimmed and blurred by the rain but showing in a broad circle of warmth before the tavern door. there, too, the water flooding the kennels had poured out, making a small lake in the courtyard. the coach went splashing into it and halted with muddy water rising to the hubs. the inn door was open, and the hall overflowed with noise and good cheer; lackeys and grooms came bustling at the sound of an arrival; and at the sight of a private carriage, with an earl’s crest emblazoned upon the door, mine host himself came hurrying forward but stood aghast at the puddle.
“here, you varlets,” he shouted, clapping his hands, “a plank from the door to the carriage steps, or her ladyship cannot descend.”
her ladyship’s roguish face was at the window as he spoke and she watched the men placing a board for her. as they opened the coach door the innkeeper bowed low, his broad back in the air, but stepping carefully on the plank and tottering uneasily, for he was a stout man and in terror of falling headlong into the flood.
“who have i the honor to serve, my lady?” he inquired, all smiles in spite of his perilous position.
[pg 44]“venus rising from the waves, sir,” replied lady betty flippantly, as she sprang lightly across the improvised bridge, scarcely touching his shoulder with her fingers and quite regardless of his open-mouthed astonishment.
“look to it that my women are not drowned!” she added imperiously, as he retreated after her, leaving her attendants to climb out unassisted.
but the man was sorely perplexed by her ladyship’s announcement of herself, and he only stared at her, trying to place her in the gallery of a fertile brain well stored with great ladies; but this face—albeit one of the most charming he had ever seen—was not among them, and he stared, perhaps a trifle rudely, for lady betty’s eye, suddenly alighting on him, her chin went up.
“you will show me to my lady sunderland’s apartments,” she said in an icy tone, as she waved her hand toward the stair.
in a moment the innkeeper’s supple back bent double again; he threw out his fat hands and stammered a hundred apologies.
“lady sunderland did not look for your ladyship until to-morrow,” he sputtered, hurrying on ahead, while lady clancarty followed, with her chin still scornfully elevated, her two[pg 45] weary and dishevelled women behind her. “the countess will be rejoiced—we are all rejoiced, your ladyship; the storm was so heavy, the roads so fearful, we scarcely dared to hope that your carriage would reach newmarket to-night,” continued the host, all smiles again, rubbing his hands and flourishing before her ladyship.
but lady betty walked on in silence, scarce glancing at him as he opened a door and, with many flourishes and bows, announced her at the threshold and stood aside, still bowing, to let her pass into a large, well-lighted room, where a bright fire burned upon the hearth, great logs ablaze upon the high, polished brass andirons. the dark wood floor was polished too, reflecting the blaze, and in a great chair by the fire sat a woman past middle age, yet showing little of her years, and dressed in the extreme affectation of a youthful fashion, a petticoat of white brocade, which was short in front to show her feet in white and gold pantoffles, and a bodice and overdress of peachblow satin; a face that had been handsome and was now much rouged, the eyes brightened by dark rings beneath them, while her hair—or her periwig—was frizzed full at the sides after a fashion much in vogue in the time of[pg 46] charles the second. her throat was covered with jewels, and her hands and arms; on either side of her stood two young men of fashion, beaux of newmarket, in gay velvet coats and ruffles of lace, and long curled and scented french periwigs, white satin breeches and silk stockings, and slippers with high red heels, then much in favor at versailles.
it was a group that amused lady clancarty,—the great lady and her two youthful admirers, for betty knew her mother well. they in their turn stared a little at the traveller’s unexpected advent, and for a moment no one spoke. there was a strange contrast between the painted and bejewelled countess and her daughter: lady clancarty wore a long, dark riding-coat with capes, her full skirts trailing below the coat, and her hat—a large one with plumes—set over her brows. the cool damp night air had brought the freshness of a rose to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled as she viewed the party by the fire, and made her mother a courtesy.
“i have been in the deluge, madam,” she said gayly. “faith! i had expected to be drowned, but lo! our ark landed here, and here am i—a dove with an olive branch, in fact—for i come with kind messages from althorpe for your ladyship.”
[pg 47]“my dear betty,” said lady sunderland, recovering from her amazement, “i am delighted; come and kiss me, my love, and here—my lord savile and mr. benham, this is my daughter, lady elizabeth spencer.”
the young men bowed profoundly, lord savile’s bold eyes on lady betty’s face, for he saw it flush with sudden indignation.
“my mother’s memory plays her false,” she said coldly, scarcely acknowledging their greetings; “i am the countess of clancarty.”
lady sunderland laughed angrily but pretended to be merry.
“the child is foolish about a trifle,” she said, winking behind her fan at young savile. “we can afford to humor her whims, my lord; we will call her lady clancarty.”
“we shall call her ladyship divine, if she wills it,” replied lord savile, with a smile at betty; “it is all one to us as long as she is pleased.”
lady clancarty’s foot tapped the floor impatiently and there was a dangerous sparkle in her eyes. lady sunderland observed her uneasily.
“my love, you are tired,” she said, mildly solicitous, “sit down and let me send for a cup of tea; mr. benham—ah, my lord, thank[pg 48] you, yes, the bell—a dish of tea for lady spen—lady clancarty. there—there, my dear, don’t frown at me; it is all quite ridiculous! mr. benham will arrange the cushions in that chair for you; i don’t know what i should do without him! we were playing gleek, betty, when you were announced.”
betty was now ensconced in an armchair by the fire, her little feet on the cushion that mr. benham had placed for her; and she viewed the situation with an expression more composed.
“yes, i take tea,” she said to lord savile, who was handing her a smoking cup, “and what is this?” she added, for he had managed to drop a flower from his buttonhole into her lap with an air of gallantry.
“a poor blossom,” he said gracefully, “to compare with such a rose as blooms here to-night.”
lady betty looked at him and then at the flower curiously.
“ah,” she said calmly sipping her tea, “it is a rose—i thought ’twas a thistle!”
lady sunderland coughed and dropped her fan and frowned at her daughter; but the incorrigible countess did not glance in her direction. she was smiling blandly at the fire and warming first one foot and then the other.
[pg 49]“you are from althorpe?” mr. benham asked, smiling at the beauty, for he was not displeased at lord savile’s discomfiture; “and my friend, spencer, is there now.”
“he is indeed,” replied betty, with a sigh, “and may he stay there!” she added mentally; but to mr. benham, “has the king come?”
“he came yesterday, and with him, lord albemarle; the princess anne is here too, and my lady marlborough.”
“dear me,” said lady betty, with an unconcealed yawn, “the world is here, it seems, and i am so weary that i must crave your ladyship’s license to retire.”
“nay,” said mr. benham gallantly, “it is my lord and i who should retire and permit your ladyship to rest.”
“i protest!” cried lady sunderland; “the gleek was but half played.”
but she made no great effort to detain them; indeed, she wanted an opportunity to speak plainly to her daughter, so the beaux were allowed to bow themselves out, with more than one lingering glance at the beautiful, haughty face by the fireside. no sooner was the door closed, however, than lady sunderland turned on her daughter.
[pg 50]“your folly passes belief, elizabeth,” she said tartly, quite oblivious of the two attendants quietly waiting in the background; “i am tired of the name of clancarty; your father and i intend to divorce the rascal. to parade the matter as you do is simply childish, my love, quite childish.”
lady betty sipped her tea and looked into the fire.
“i am not divorced,” she remarked placidly, “and lord clancarty, being a romanist, may object to divorces.”
lady sunderland laughed unpleasantly, tapping her fan on the arm of her chair.
“lord clancarty has probably never respected his marriage,” she remarked, in a biting tone, though she smiled; “you are very childish, elizabeth, for your years.”
“i am quite advanced,” her daughter replied, rising and setting her cup on the table where the cards were scattered, “and perhaps i am too old to think of divorces.”
“nonsense,” lady sunderland said frowning, “your father and i mean to see you well married when we are rid of this irish nuisance.”
“indeed,” said lady betty coldly, elevating her brows, “to whom? my lord savile, for instance, or mr. benham?”
[pg 51]“you might do worse,” retorted lady sunderland stiffly; “they are both fine young men and in favor at court.”
“precisely,” said lady betty, “and ’tis strange that my taste is so perverted. dear madam, i bid you good-night. we will discuss their excellencies later; now i am perishing with sleep,” and she dropped her mother a courtesy and slipped out of the room, leaving the older countess frowning and biting her lips, the rouge showing red on her cheeks.
but once alone with alice lynn, betty laughed, with tears shining in her eyes.
“ah, the trap is set, alice, dear,” she said, “the trap is set, if only this poor little mouse will nibble at the cheese!”
