Lady Barbarity: A Romance

On the fateful morrow the frost still held, and gave no sign of yielding. The Doctor rode over towards noon to attend the Captain’s leg. When he left the library I took his professional opinion on both that member and its owner.

“Doing nicely, very nicely,” says the Doctor. “Nor are the injuries as serious as we did at first suppose.”

“We shall have him about on crutches in a day or two, perhaps?” says I, making a wry face.

“Not this fortnight,” says the Doctor, “nay, not this three weeks. This morning now he tried to alter the position of his leg, but it was so stiff and gave the poor man such an excruciating pain that he desisted the instant he began.”

“I was trusting, Doctor,” I replied, “that the Captain would have his heels up for at least a month. A man of his activity would benefit by rest.”

“Well, my dear lady, let us think about it,” says the Doctor.

“And I believe, sir,” says I, insinuatingly, “that you had better stay to dinner while you do.”

I never remember a day that took longer to consume the sun’s light, or a night more tardy to arrive. At five p.m. the Captain scrawled the information: “In an hour, madam, unless a particular circumstance prevents it, my report must be dispatched.” And I was grateful to the Captain’s air of mystery for causing me to laugh so. “Unless a particular circumstance prevents it.” A little after six Emblem bore me the news that the Corporal was mounted and away. As Goodman was to bring me the result as soon as one had been arrived at, I awaited him in privacy, and was so nervous and excited, too, that I preferred to have my supper served there, instead of wearing the mask of my habitual indifference, and sitting down with the family as usual.

Seven struck, but no Goodman came. A quarter past, and I began to speculate upon miscarriages. But presently, to my relief, I caught the sound of heavy boots ascending, and on his knock I invited Goodman to come in.

“Well?” says I.

“Under lock and key, your ladyship,” says Goodman. “’A kicked a bit, ’a swore a bit, when we took him from behind; but we dropped him in, and slipped the bolt and turned the key; his ’oss has been taken to the farm, and I left John, my son, a sittin’ afore the cellar door a readin’ in The Courier.”

“No unnecessary violence, I hope,” says I.

“Not a bit, my lady. But it’s a mercy that there weren’t. He turned rampageous like; but John, my son, had got him by the muffler, and my knee was a kneelin’ in the middle of his shirt. We dropped him in the hole, simple an’ easy as a child. He might ’a fell upon his nose, but I judge from the crackin’ sort o’ sound he made that it liker was his head. But he’ll take no hurt, my lady; no, not he, for that Corp’ral’s the toughest tooth that ever chewed up bull-beef.”

“And did you abstract the paper?” I inquired.

“Here it is,” says he, and gave it to me with a proud appearance.

I dismissed the honest fellow with a purse and a few compliments on his exceptional ability, which even the best of men are greedy to receive; and gave him some instructions touching their captive’s entertainment. You may take it that I never was more complacent in any battle than in the signal victory my arms had achieved in this. The Captain’s wit might be considerable, but it was indeed a satisfaction to hold the proof that my own resources were, after all, despite my foe’s unscrupulosity and keenness, good enough to thwart him. His emissary, his special messenger, his wretched tool, was under lock and key; the dread instrument he had so diligently waved above my head, and had disturbed my dreams with, had not yet reached the Government, but lay upon my writing-table, a prisoner of war. ’Twas a very triumph. I picked up this red-sealed horror and brandished it before the blaze. “The Secretary of State, Whitehall, London.” I insulted that elegant inscription in divers ways, but ere I bestowed upon it the crowning indignity of all, its committal to the flames, the whim seized me to read its precious contents once again. Tearing off the cover, I drew forth four precisely folded sheets of foolscap. But directly afterwards, I think a feather might have felled me. There was not a word of writing on them!

What could be the meaning? The packet had been sealed implicitly with a great array of wax; had been addressed in a large, fair hand to the Secretary of State; had been ravished from the custody of Flickers, yet here it was, blanker than my hand.

I was wholly staggered. Presently I plagued my wits for explanations, but no matter how diligent my mind was it could not override the fact that the letter was empty. Later I took counsel of Mrs. Emblem, but she could merely stare and wag her silly head. On her suggestion, however, I resummoned William Goodman. He swore an oath that this was the only document on the person of the Corporal. When I pressed him on the point he reluctantly admitted that as they barred the door upon the prisoner after the rape of the packet, he called out to them to this, or similar, effect:

“These dirty doings is all that ladyship o’ yours. I know; but harkee! just you tell that brazen jade o’ yours the Captain’s not a fool, the Captain’s not, but smart, downright smart, my boys, and laughs at such as her. And tell her she’s welcome to the paper, for it’s not a bit o’ use to her, nor to me, nor to the Captain, and she’s welcome to chew it to her supper if she likes; and you can tell her, boys, that the Captain’s laughing at her in his sleeve.”

Goodman then withdrew. Turning on Emblem fiercely when he had done so, I cried out in the very extremity of rage:

“Oh, the deep devil! Oh, the cunning, foxey fiend! But, remark me, girl, d’ye hear? I say, remark me, I’ll be revenged upon that Captain as I’m a female. I’m resolved upon it, I’ll be revenged. Ha, thou ancient enemy, I’ll have thee yet, and then I’ll twist thee. Ha! I see thee squirming like a lizard in the sun. Thou belly-wriggling snake, I’ll pay thee for it. Eve was not my early mamma else! I’ll correct thee of these Eden tricks, thou worm, thou abominable night-bite!”

It was the pains of disappointment, combined with the keen thought that, after all, the Captain had occasion for his mockery that whipt me to this transport. The descent from supposition to hard fact was, indeed, most cruel. My pretty schemes, that had been designed to assist young Anthony and show the crafty soldier in a foolish light, where were they now? And the Captain sitting calmly down and laughing to himself at my predicament! Mrs. Polly Emblem had wisely fled the chamber, else I would not have answered for her at that instant.

An hour passed, and I had pulled all the curls out of my hair, and had washed half the powder from my face with weeping, when the door was opened and Mr. Anthony appeared. He looked at me steadily a minute, a deal of criticism in his eye.

“Why, Bab,” he cries, “what in the prophet’s name’s upon you? ’Tis a new rôle, I see. What in the name of mercy is the part? Are you Niobe mourning for her young, or a pale Jocasta, or a drunken baggage that goes too often to the ‘Jug?’”

“Out, rogue,” says I, “or I will put you out.”

“I see you have already put yourself out,” says he. “But what in conscience is the matter?”

“Out, rogue,” I repeated. “I will not have your horrid sex intruding on my presence—wretched, crafty, undermining creatures!”

“Faith!” says he, “I’ve always said it. Wretched, puling, prying rogues. Here, Bab, I’ll just unslip these petticoats and will resume the breeches of a man.”

“Mention that word again and I’ll beat you to a purpose, you insolent slip of beggary.”

“Go on, sweet,” says he, taking his seat calmly by the fire. “I like it. Your beauty is most monstrous when your eyes blaze. Rat me, if you don’t look an accidental angel, darling.”

Now, as this audacious rebel sat there laughing quietly in true enjoyment of my rage, I judged it better to restrain it if I could, and tell him of the case. He heard me out with patience, approved heartily of my trick, paid me a compliment on the unscrupulosity of its character, swore I was a cunning one, and so forth; but when I showed him the clean paper with never a written word upon it, he cried: “That beats me!” and grew as thoughtful as an owl.

“Sir Sapience,” says I, “I should value your opinion.”

“Witchcraft, as I’m a Christian man,” says he. “But that Captain is—well, that Captain is——”

“He is, indeed,” says I, with a significance not to be conveyed by a mere adjective or noun.

For an hour or more we broke our minds upon this problem. It was the deepest mystery, and of that provoking kind that makes one unhappy till one has solved it. As it would not profit us to keep the Corporal in durance, I judged it right to take measures to release him. But it was certain that as soon as he was at large my guilt would be published to his officer. Therefore I took boldness for my course, and stepped down straightway to the Captain. I carried the blue papers and the mutilated seal with me.

My enemy was alone. He received me with the courtesy that never failed him, while I, with the consideration that was habitual to me, asked politely of his leg.

“Captain,” I decisively began, “an accident of a rather serious sort hath happened to that emissary of yours.”

“My soul,” cried the Captain, anxiously, “is that so? Pray tell me of it, madam.”

“I will strike a bargain first,” says I, coolly, and cast the papers down before his eyes.

I think I never saw a man so taken.

“Ods wounds!” he cries, “how came these in your custody?”

“An accident hath occurred to that emissary of yours,” I repeated, and smiled upon his urgent face, “and you shall hear the details of it on condition that you do confess why this packet is a bogus. I can assure you, Captain, that I am burning to learn the reason for this make-believe.”

He tried to hedge at this, and get news of the Corporal out of me without giving me the secret that I so desired. But if he considered I was a child in these affairs to be evaded lightly he was early undeceived.

“Not a word, not a hint, sir,” I says, “until you have told me why you have furnished the Government with such a short account. And I am persuaded, sir, that that Corporal of yours is in the least enviable plight.”

My reluctant enemy fenced with me a long half hour, but I was so tenacious of my course, and parried him with such an ease, that in the end I forced him to desist.

“Very well,” he said, “I’ll tell you, madam. The fact is I have been trying to intimidate you. There has been a conspiracy between his lordship and myself to frighten you into a betrayal of the prisoner. From the first I have been convinced that you could put your hand upon that rebel if you cared, and, my dear lady, it may please you now to know that up to this instant I have not budged one point from that opinion. I am certain that if you chose you could deliver him up to us to-night. Now we let you read the particular narrative that held my lord responsible, and were at pains to cause you to believe that it was going to the Government for the most obvious of reasons. And as you are aware, we have even thought fit to prolong the farce by sending Flickers southward with a bogus packet.”

“This is very fine and pat,” says I, “and sounds like a peroration; but under your favour, sir, I should be glad to examine you upon it. Will you tell me, sir, on whom the blame will fall? If it’s not to be on me, and not to be upon his lordship, who is going to suffer?”

“Yours to command, James Grantley,” the Captain answered, with a grave and happy dignity that sat upon him charmingly, I thought. “Does your ladyship suppose that I am a snivel or a cur? Hath your ladyship formed so kind a judgment of my character as to hold me capable of allowing my friends to suffer rather than myself.”

This vindication of himself made him appear so handsome and so lofty, that I felt that this deep enemy of mine had no right to present so excellent a figure. ’Twas palpable, besides, that he could out-manœuvre me in every way, and was therefore a person to be hated.

“Well, Captain,” says I, reproachfully, “I trust you do repent of the fever you have thrown me in; of the sleepless nights you’ve given me: of the visions of the Tower with which I have been beset.”

“Evildoers,” says he, sternly, “must command no sympathy.”

“’Tis a hard name, sir,” I says.

“Truth, madam, is not a courtier.”

“Ah, no!” I sighed, and added insinuatingly, “but I have never read the history of the ill-fated Mary of Scotland without costing myself a tear.”

“Had I been the executioner,” says the Captain, grimly, “there had been no bungling at the lopping of her lovely, wicked head.”

“My dear Captain, you are perfectly convinced of that?” And I searched the harsh man terribly with my eyes.

He lowered his own a point, and coughed to cover his confusion. I had now to tell the Captain of the Corporal’s misfortune. While in the act of doing this, I kept a lookout for his anger, but except for the most delicate little smile that seemed to go crawling round his jaw, his face was as simple and inscrutable as ever.

“I think, madam,” says he, “that I should praise the address you have displayed. For the second time you have outwitted his Majesty the King. But, pray, madam, be careful of the third. The third time is generally crucial.”

“Do I discover a warning or a threat in this, sir?” I pleasantly inquired.

“Only the expression of an honest admiration,” says the Captain, whose kind smile on this occasion appeared to be dancing round his teeth.

The Corporal was released that evening. I regret that this honest man’s opinion of my conduct in this case is not preserved among my archives. I feel sure that had I been able to supply it, it would have won the approbation of the gentle reader.