A Lady of England 11

A Lady of England 11

HORATIA. I have it! the storeroom.

 

BARBARA. But if a search should be made?

 

CHARLES. Search! who’ll search? The storeroom is the very place.

Come, come, the air is piercing; come.

 

BARBARA. This way; by the kitchen door.

 

CHARLES. Once more into the house, dear friends, once more.

[_Exit._]

 

HORATIA. Is this the Prince? the Hero?

 

SOPHIA. O Ratty! our duty remains the same! [_Exeunt._]

 

 

ACT II.

 

 

SCENE I.

 

THE PARLOUR.

 

COLONEL STUMPLY. WEASEL.

 

COL. Good-morrow, Weasel. An old campaigner, you see, learns to

be an early riser.

 

WEASEL. I wish your honour a good morning. I hope you found your

room comfortable.

 

COL. Most comfortable. No traces of the pigs, ha, ha! none the

worse for the chimney-top; ha, ha, ha! That Comet has a tail, I

guess. Well, Weasel, how has all gone on these two years, since

I last found myself at Rattleton Hermitage? Hey?

 

WEASEL. Much the same as usual, your honour. Our only varieties

are Dr. Daresby and the rheumatics; till last night when....

 

COL. The girls--the young Ladies seem much grown, much improved.

 

WEASEL. O, for the matter of that, yes, though Miss Ratty’s

sadly taken up with the books, d’ye see. She’s poring all

day long over a lot of different sorts of learnings; I don’t

remember their names, but they all ends in _oddity_. Then she’s

an out and out Jacobite, and thumps the piano when she sings

‘Charlie is my darling,’ as though she took it for a Whig.

Indeed, your honour, last night....

 

COL. And Miss Barbara?

 

WEASEL. She’s quiet like, Sir. She’s never off her chair

stitching away. They says, your honour, that she makes holes on

purpose to sew them up again, d’ye see?

 

COL. Sophy--Miss Rattleton is a charming girl.

 

WEASEL. Ah, so thinks some one else. Did your honour ever see

young Dr. Daresby?

 

COL. No, what of him?

 

WEASEL. O, nothing, Sir. But they walks alone together, and

sings duets together, and he gave her the little poodle, and

they says, your honour, d’ye see....

 

COL. Yes, yes, I understand.

 

WEASEL. She always feeds that fat little dog herself, your

honour. She gives it slices of bread and strawberry jam. But

she’s a good young Lady, Sir. Often I sees her going to the

cottages with her little pink bag filled with the good things

which Mrs. Judith makes. (I knows that from Mrs. Marjory who

has to wash out the grease-spots every day for Miss Sophy.) And

there she goes mincing along with her long veil hanging behind,

and her little poodle running on before her. But may I make bold

to ask how Master Stumply is? He was a very little boy when....

 

COL. Not a word of him, Weasel, not a word of him! He’s a

wayward ... don’t speak of him! folly and indiscretion have been

his bane.

 

WEASEL. [_Shaking his head._] There’s some others I know seem

running the same road.

 

COL. How? Who?

 

WEASEL. O, it is not for me to say, your honour.

 

COL. Speak; explain yourself.

 

WEASEL. I dare say ’twas all a frolic, your honour, but there

were odd doings here yesterday.

 

COL. Tell me, tell me.

 

WEASEL. [_Mysteriously._] Perhaps as an old friend of the Family

your honour ought to know all, and such a rum affair....

 

COL. Go on, go on.

 

WEASEL. Well then, your honour, yesterday was a cold evening,

d’ye see, and as I was stirring the kitchen fire there comes a

knock, and I goes to the door, your honour.

 

COL. Well.

 

WEASEL. There stands a tall, genteel-like lad with a ragged

coat. And he would give me no name, but he said he was a

Wanderer, and asked for a night’s lodging. So Mrs. Judith, who

never can refuse any one, ordered the spare bed to be got ready

for him.

 

COL. So I turned him out, hey, Weasel? There’s the secret of the

pigs; but why this mystery?

 

WEASEL. Mystery, Sir, ay, that’s the word; but if your honour

was to hear what followed!

 

COL. What? where did they put him?

 

WEASEL. [_Lowering his voice._] When it was night, your honour,

what sees I through the chink of the kitchen door in the passage

but the three young Ladies lugging along a great bundle, and

stopping and panting and puffing? So says I, I’ll see to the

bottom of this, so I pops out suddenly and says, ‘Can I help

you, Misses?’ quite civil like. But O Sir, how Miss Sophy

trembled and turned as white as a lily, and Miss Ratty stamped

and sent me to the village--at that hour, your honour, company

in the house--the ground covered with frost--I subject to the

rheumatics--and what for, d’ye think? to get her twopenceworth

of shoe-ribbon, your honour; and when I brought it, would you

believe it?--she roared out that it was too narrow and sent me

back again.

 

COL. Most strange! most unaccountable! Have you any guess what

was in the bundle?

 

WEASEL. I winked at it, your honour. There was a mattress and

blankets, I’m sure.

 

COL. For the Stranger, I suppose. But this mystery! I cannot

understand it. Where could they be going?

 

WEASEL. To the churchyard, I thinks.

 

COL. The churchyard!

 

WEASEL. Why, your honour, they certainly did not go into the

kitchen, and the back-door leads straight across the yard to the

Church, and the vault would be no bad hiding-place, your honour.

Miss Ratty has hid there herself, I knows, when the dentist was

here.

 

COL. Have you no other clue? What an extraordinary affair!

 

WEASEL. Why, Sir--your honour, last night Mrs. Marjory overheard

Miss Ratty whispering Miss Sophy, and she said, Sir....

 

COL. What? speak out!

 

WEASEL. ‘As long as the Colonel remains here the Prince must

keep concealed.’

 

COL. [_Springing up._] The Prince! ha, ha! I smell a rat! the

Pretender! the Pretender! if there was ever such luck, such

fortune! Hang me if I could not--but there’s not an instant to

be lost. Fly, Weasel, to the village. Bid Corporal Catchup and

a dozen stout fellows be with me directly. Fly, I say, and if

it be all as I hope, I’ll cram you with gold till you choke.

Begone! Fly! [_Exit WEASEL._] Thirty thousand pounds and a

baronetship! Sir Stephen Stumply! Ah, if that wayward boy--the

Pretender! the Pretender! he’s in a net, in a net, and I’ll be

hanged if I let him out of it. [_Exit._]

 

 

SCENE II.

 

THE DRAWING-ROOM.

 

_Enter HORATIA._

 

HORATIA. What a sleepless night I have passed, what anxiety,

what excitement! and yet how unlike is he to what I had

imagined! so timid, so petulant! and that perpetual punning! It

matters not, however,--his title to our services remains the

same! A strange misgiving is on my soul; is it the shadow of

approaching danger, or only the fear of it? The Colonel gave me

a strange meaning look as he passed me this morning, and said,

‘You are early up, Miss Ratty; I fear that your rest was broken

last night.’ Can he suspect anything? That sneaking wretch,

Weasel! Hark, I hear the Colonel’s step and a strange voice.

I’ll conceal myself behind this screen. Perhaps....