Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar - Anonymous - Страница 48

For some days after the incidents which have been chronicled in the preceding chapter, our hero was actively employed in search of fresh customers. He was by no means unsuccessful, for in a short time he had contrived to obtain a very fair connection.

The orders for frames flowed in apace, but as yet he was not able to execute the commissions for want of a workshop.

He consulted the landlord of the “Carved Lion,” who was well acquainted with the neighbourhood and its surroundings.

“I’ve got a fairish amount of orders,” said Peace; “and it’s likely that others will follow; but there is a little difficulty in the way.”

“And what might that be?” inquired Bricket.

“I can get all my materials easily enough,” returned Peace; “but how about a place—​a workshop?”

“Ah, I see, of course. You want a snug crib in the neighbourhood?”

“Yes.”

“I think I can arrange that. You know Charlie Styant?”

“No indeed, I do not.”

“Oh, yes, you do. Not by name perhaps, but you’ve seen him, an’ he knows you well enough.”

“Well, what of him?”

No. 12.

PEACE THREW HIS ARMS AROUND NELL’S NECK, AND IMPRINTED A KISS ON HER RUBY LIPS.

“He’s a carpenter and cabinet-maker, and has a big workshop just at the end of Dennet’s-lane. I dare say he’ll be but too glad to let ’ee have part of his shop?”

“Do you think so?”

“Of course I do; nay more I’m pretty nigh sure o’ it, and ye’ll find him a nice young fellow in the bargain. He’ll do anything he can to oblige a fellow-tradesman, I’m sartin sure o’ that. Shall I speak to him?”

“I wish you would; but I’m giving you a great deal of trouble about one thing and another.”

“Dall it, what’s the use of a man being in the world if he can’t mek hisself useful to a fellow creature? Besides, we all on us want to make it worth your while to stop as long as possible.”

“You are very good, I’m sure. Just speak to this young carpenter and see what he says about it.”

“Right you are. It shall be done this very morning.”

Peace shouldered his pack and went round to his customers.

Upon his return in the afterpart of the day his landlord informed him that he had spoken to Styant, who expressed his willingness to let part of his shop for a few shillings a week.

“And you can have a bench all to yourself,” observed Bricket.

“Nothing can be better. How far is it from here?”

“Not a quarter of a mile; but we’ll go round and have a look at it,” said the landlord, putting on his hat. “Nothing like striking while the iron’s hot is an old motto of my father’s.”

The kind-hearted landlord conducted Peace to a long low building built of wood, with a slate roof, at the end of Dennet’s-lane, as it was termed.

He introduced his companion to a young man whom Peace recognised as one of the frequenters of the parlour of the “Lion.”

“Now ye two are to be better acquainted. Just cast your eyes round, Mr. Peace, and see if this place will suit ye.”

“It will suit well enough if I am not incommoding our young friend.”

“Ye can have this bench and this end o’ the shop all to yerself,” said Styant. “I aint got so much business at present as to want the whole shop.”

“I don’t know how long I may want it,” observed Peace; “that all depends upon what orders I get, but it will certainly be for two or three weeks.”

“If it’s two or three and twenty ’twill be all the better,” observed the carpenter, with a smile.

This little matter being satisfactorily arranged, the landlord and his guest bent their steps in the direction of the hostelry.

“Yer had a tidy old scrimmage with Master Giles t’other evening, hadn’t ’ee?” observed the farmer, as they took their way along.

“Yes,” answered his companion.

“Short and sweet, wa’nt it, like a donkey’s gallop?”

“It was short, but there was not much sweetness about it.”

“About the girl Nelly, eh?”

“So he said. Is he a lover of hers?”

“Lord love you, no! not a bit on it; but he’s spooney on her, so I’ve been told. But she won’t ha’ anything to say to’un. Nell knows too much on him for that.”

“He’s an impudent, ruffianly fellow.”

“But ye tumbled him over like a sack of whate.”

“I didn’t give him much time for reflection.”

“So I heerd,” exclaimed the landlord, bursting out in a loud laugh.

“It was as good as a play. The fellow aint liked by any o’ his mates; he’s a sulky, ill-tempered hound.”

“Is Nelly in service?”

The landlord shook his head.

“In business?”

“Partly so.”

“Does she live near here?”

“Yes; hard by.”

“With her parents?”

“Noa, she aint got none. She’s an orphan.”

“Oh! An orphan?”

“Yes.”

“Does she live by herself, then?”

“No; with an aunt. The old lady keeps a shop in the next village, and does a little in the market gardening line. She has a large strawberry ground, which is pretty well frequented during the season. Oh, she drives a tolerable trade, what wi’ one thing an’ another.”

“And Nell?”

“Well, yer see, she’s a clever lass, and makes herself generally useful; but she’s been a bit spoilt.”

“In what way?”

“Her aunt lets her do pretty much as she likes, but Nell’s a good sort and a general favourite, although she is sometimes a little uppish. Is there anything more ye want to know?”

“No—​oh, no,” said Peace, colouring slightly.

The two walked on in silence for some minutes after this.

“She was a great favourite with my missus,” observed Bricket—​“she who is dead and gone now, an’ she wasn’t a woman to take a fancy to everybody. It was not many as pleased her.”

“Ah! I don’t wonder at Nell being a favourite.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s something so genuine and ingenious about her manner, and she appears to me to be singularly straightforward for a woman.”

“I’m glad you sed for a woman,” observed Brickett, coming to a sudden halt and looking hard at the speaker. “I be very glad you sed that.”

It was now Peace’s turn to laugh.

“You’re a bit of a philosopher,” he said.

“I mind the time when I wanted all the philosophy I was possessed on; so would you, if you’d been in the same position as I was; but, lor’, it bean’t no use looking back. We none of us know what we’ve got to go through in this world, and it’s a blessing we don’t; leastways that be my opinion, ’cos yer see, Mr. Peace, if so be as we did we should sink down and fall as flat as stale beer afore our journey was half over. We’ve all our trials an’ our troubles, an’ arter all I s’pose happiness is pretty well distributed among us. It bean’t the richest or the most fortunate as are the happiest. Look at my lord at yonder foine estate, who’s a rollin’ in wealth; he be a miserable man—​much more miserable than either on us.”

“I don’t know whom you are referring to.”

“Why, Lord Ethalwood.”

“Ah! I don’t know him.”

“But you’ve heerd on him, I ’spose.”

“No, I’ve not.”

“Well, that be strange.”

“You seem to forget that I am new to the neighbourhood and its inhabitants.”

“Ah, true, I did not think of that. At some other time I’ll tell ’ee all about him, but may be ye’ll hear from somebody else afore long.”

Having made satisfactory arrangements for his workshop, Peace sent orders to a wholesale house in London to forward him several books of gold, together with some lengths of maple wood and German gilding, which would serve his purpose for the manufacture of cheap frames. When the parcel of goods arrived he set to work in earnest; the orders he had received for the inexpensive frames were much more numerous than his commissions for the better class of goods; he, however, managed to do pretty well with both class of customers.

One morning as he was leaving the “Carved Lion” to betake himself to the workshop, he observed at the bar a powdered lacquey, arrayed in all the paraphernalia of dazzling garments appertaining to persons of his class.

Peace was struck with his appearance, as well he might be; for he was a finely formed man, over six feet in height, with a broad chest, huge limbs, and a proud bearing.

He was decked out in the most gorgeous of liveries, with plush breeches, white stockings, and a large shoulder knot and tags falling over his shoulder.

This radiant individual was conversing with the landlord, who treated him with great deference.

Peace honoured the lackey with a cursory glance as he passed out of the inn.

Upon his return later in the day, Brickett called him into the bar-parlour and said—

“Did you see our swell footman as you passed out this morning?”

“I couldn’t help seeing him,” returned our hero; “he was so big, and was, moreover, so dazzling, that it was impossible to pass by without noticing him. Who is he?”

“One of Lord Ethalwood’s servants—​that’s all.”

“Humph! Well, he’s a credit to the establishment, as far as appearance goes, that’s quite certain.”

“Yes. Well, now just listen to me a moment or so. He came here this morning to order some chartreuse, some bottles of seltzer and soda, together with many other things. It appears that the servants are going to have a party all to themselves. His lordship is in London——”

“And they take the opportunity of enjoying themselves during his absence. Quite right and proper.”

“No, not altogether that; his lordship knows of the little affair, which is to come off in a day or two—​has given permission, in fact. The butler, who has been in the family for the last thirty years, is a great favourite with his lordship. The butler’s fellow servants purpose presenting him with a watch and chain, as a token of their respect and esteem.”

“Also very right and proper, I suppose.”

“Now, don’t be satirical, old man,” observed Brickett, with a smile. “Just hear me out. Henry Adolphus——”

“Who is he?”

“The footman.”

“Ah! I see; the footman.”

“Yes. Well, as I was a saying, Henry Adolphus told me this morning that they were, in addition to other festivities, going to have a bit of a dance. But how about the band?”

“Have Weippert’s from London.”

“Hang it, don’t be so contrary! Two or three musicians will be all they will require. Will you be one?”

“Me! Most certainly, if you desire it.”

“You won’t lose anything by it.”

“Oh, dear, I should suppose not.”

“Henry Adolphus has heard of you, and asked me if you were stopping here. I sed yes, in course; and I also sed I was certain sure you would be ready when they required your services.”

“You’re as good as a father to me,” observed Peace, with a smile.

“An yer know, although they are but servants, they are big people in their way at the hall, let me tell ’ee that. And they can do a chap a good turn when un loike.”

“I shall be most delighted to make their acquaintance—​of that rest quite satisfied. Make what arrangement you like with regard to me—​I will do my very best to fulfil it.”

“Right you are, old man—​leave the matter in my hands.”

Two days after this the footman again made his appearance at the inn; he had more orders to give to the landlord—​more arrangements to make.

Brickett conducted him into the parlour and introduced him to our hero, who was at the time having his mid-day meal.

“This is the gentleman I wer a speaking to ’ee about Mr. Peace, sir,” said Brickett—​addressing himself to the flunkey.

“Glad to make your acquaintance, sir,” said Henry Adolphus.

Peace bowed.

“I am very glad to meet you, sir,” said he.

The footman gave a dignified bend of his body, and handed our hero a card.

It was an invitation to the party to be held at the servants’ hall on the following night.

“An you’ll have no objection to oblige them with a tune or two?” said the landlord.

“Certainly not, that’s understood. Are there any other performers to be there besides myself?”

“A cornet player and a gentleman who plays bass,” answered the footman.

“I should like to see them, so that we may know what we are going to do together.”

The landlord and his visitor conversed together apart for a minute or so, after which Henry Adolphus said—

“If you see them ’ere to-night or to-morrow morning, will that suit you?”

“Yes, that will do very well.”

In the evening of that same day a pale-faced young gentleman, with weak eyes, and a military-looking young man with a heavy moustache, presented themselves at the “Carved Lion,” and inquired for Peace.

The first named was the bass-viol player, the other being the gentleman who performed on the cornet.

The three performers repaired to Peace’s workshop, where they had one hour’s hard practice. This enabled them to keep together—​certainly well enough for a beginning. They had another turn at their instruments on the following morning.

The eventful evening arrived. Peace was not permitted to sally forth from the “Carved Lion” without an escort. The landlord and several of his parlour customers insisted upon accompanying him up the hill, on the brow of which was situated the noble mansion known throughout the county as Broxbridge Hall.

Brickett, who had received a card of invitation, was to come later on. He, however, went up to the great gates and lodge at the entrance, and rang the visitors’ bell. The porter made his appearance in answer to this summons, whereupon Bricket explained to him in a few words who Peace was, and the reason of his visit.

Our hero was then left in charge of the porter, who conducted him into the servants’ hall.

Peace was perfectly astounded at the grandeur and beauty of the place, which had been decorated with flags, garlands, rare and choice exotic plants, and presented all the appearance of a baronial hall of the olden time, such as Nash and Cattermole knew so well how to depict.

The place was crowded with throngs of visitors; the servants, relatives, and friends, together with a vast number of the tradesmen in the neighbourhood, formed on contingent.

In addition to these the parish schoolmaster with some of the elder boys, a few agriculturists, who rented small farms under his lordship, and last, not least, was the girl whom we have known as “Nelly.”

Peace had been under the impression that he was going to a sort of “high life below stairs,” about which he had heard so much.

He was, however, of quite a different opinion when he beheld the vast throng of gaily-dressed persons, surrounded with all the appliances which wealth and art could furnish.

He felt perfectly bewildered at the grandeur of the scene, which at this time was lighted up by the rays of the setting sun, which found their way through the many coloured diamond-shaped windows of the apartment.

Henry Adolphus, who was at the further end of the hall, caught sight of our hero as he first entered. With courtly politeness the prize flunkey hastened forward to give him welcome.

“It’s vary good of you, I’m shaw,” said that personage, after the usual greeting, “vary good to do us the ’onour of being present this hevening. Will you keindly step this way?”

Peace was conducted by his host towards one of the side tables; here he was introduced to a quiet, sedate, bald-headed, respectable-looking man, whom Henry Adolphus informed him was Mr. Jakyl.

This was Lord Ethalwood’s butler.

Had he not been informed otherwise Peace would have concluded that it was his lordship himself.

Mr. Jakyl was reticent by nature; the few words he did utter, however, were courteous and patronising enough.

The butler, however, had so many persons to see, and such a number of little arrangements to make, that he did not remain many minutes in one place.

He was constrained to leave Peace rather abruptly.

“What wine will you take, Mr. Peace?” said Henry Adolphus.

“None at present, I thank you,” returned our hero.

“You must ’ave one glass with me. What say you—​champagne?”

“Thank you, yes.”

Two glasses of champagne were filled, and the burglar and the flunkey hobbed and nobbed. Presently the latter’s attention was called to another part of the room.

Soon after his departure Peace caught sight of Nelly threading her way through the throng. He hastened towards her.

“You here!” said he in a whisper, when he had reached her side.

“Me—​yes. Is there anything surprising in that?” returned she, with a toss of the head.

“Well, I don’t know that it’s surprising; it’s gratifying to me, at any rate, and makes me feel supremely happy.”

“Does it?”

“Of course, you know it does. How is it you have never shown up since that night? I’ve been watching the hours.”

“There, that will do. Spare yourself the trouble o’ talkin’ like a booby. That sort o’ thing won’t go down here.”

“You are a most extraordinary girl,” returned Peace. “Hang me if I know what to make of you. At one time I thought I was a bit of a favourite, but now——”

“Well, what are you a sayin’?”

“Now you positively flout me at every turn. Of all the persons in this assembly you are the only one I know.”

“Ye doesn’t know much on me, do ’ee?”

“Not much, but I want to know more. I wish to become better acquainted with one who has made so great, so favourable an impression on me.”

“What brought yer here if yer doesn’t know any on ’em?”

“Because I was invited.”

The weak-eyed bass-viol player and the military-looking cornet performer now came forward and offered their hands to Peace, and his conversation with Nelly was therefore brought to a premature close for awhile.

Peace discovered in the course of conversation with his two fellow musicians that an addition had been made to the orchestra—​a harpist and a flutist had volunteered their services.

“But positively I tremble,” observed the young gentleman with the weak eyes.

“What at?” cried Peace.

“Well, you see, in case there should be any mistake. We certainly ought to have been introduced to the flutist and harpist, so that we might have had a little practice.”

“We shall manage well enough, I dare say,” observed the bass-viol player.

A cold collation had been spread out on the huge table in the adjoining room, into which the assembled guests were now conducted.

Mr. Jakyl was to have taken the head of the table, but he had been throughout his life a modest, unobtrusive man, and at his earnest request the village schoolmaster, Mr. Magnet, consented to occupy that place of honour.

He was supported by the bailiff on one side and the head gardener on the other.

All these arrangements had been duly weighed and considered. To many the sitting down at the table was a mere matter of form so far as partaking of the repast was concerned; there were some, however, who did ample justice to the viands placed before them.

After the meal was concluded and several toasts had been drunk, Mr. Magnet rose, and, in a sonorous voice, spoke as follows:—

“Ladies and gentlemen, you will, I am sure, give me your attention for a few minutes. I will not make any large demands upon your patience, but will explain in as few words as possible my reason for my addressing you on this occasion. I am deputed by the members of Lord Ethalwood’s domestic establishment to speak on their behalf, and my only regret is that the task was not assigned to a more efficient representative. (“No, no.” “Hear, hear.” “Can’t be in better hands.”) That may be your opinion, but it is not mine; however, I will do my best. I think we shall all agree upon one subject, that being the regard and esteem in which our worthy friend, Mr. Jakyl, is held. For nearly thirty years he has had the honour of enjoying the confidence and good opinion of his lordship, and in addition to this his urbanity and kindness cannot fail to have been duly appreciated by all members of this establishment. It is, therefore, with feelings both of pride and pleasure that I present to him, on behalf of the members of this household, a gold watch and chain, as a token of their respect and friendship.”

The article in question was now brought forward, enclosed in a handsome case, and laid before the butler by the page.

“Before concluding,” said Mr. Magnet, “I shall call upon you to join me in a toast. I need hardly indicate what it is—​‘Long life and happiness to Mr. Jakyl.’”

This was of course the signal for vociferous applause, which made the servants’ hall reverberate to the very echo.

The butler rose in some precipitation, and said he could not find words to express his feelings, but that he was duly impressed with the honour which had been shown him; and that, in short, the company were all kindness, and he was all gratitude.

Several other healths were proposed and drunk, and the company now began to assume that of a highly festive character.

There was a vast amount of wine-taking, of mixed conversation, and a noise as of many tongues speaking at once.

One of the young farmers sang a hunting song, with a “tally ho!” chorus, which was rendered vigorously, if not musically.

People had evidently come to enjoy themselves, and they did so to their hearts’ content.

Henry Adolphus had been constrained—​from the force of circumstances, of course—​to partake of wine with so many persons that he was in an effervescent state.

All of a sudden, to the surprise of everybody and the dismay of a few, he rose to his legs for the purpose of addressing the assembly.

“Sit down—​don’t be so foolish—​do pray sit down,” cried one of the female servants, frowning at the footman.

“Ish all right, I know what I’m ’bout!” exclaimed Henry Adolphus—​“have a dooty to perform.”

“Are you mad?”

“Mary Hann, don’t be personal. Be quiet, my girl, be quiet.” Then in a louder voice he shouted out, “Mr. Charman!”

“Order, chair!” said Mr. Magnet.

“Mr. Charman and gentlemen,” said the footman, “I need not tell you that I’m unaccustomed to public speaking, but I cannot let this hevening pass hover without—​without doing what I consider to be a justice to our worthy charman. Gentlemen, Mr. Magnet has put himself out of way to oblige us. Every one of us can lay our ’ands on our ’arts and say that he has expressed our feelings a deal better than we could have done ourselves. (Hear, hear.) Now, I want to tell you that we ought to be grateful, and I cannot let the hevening pass hover——”

“Henry Adolphus, do sit down.”

“Mary Hann, shut up,” said the footman. “I will have my say.”

“Oh, it’s dreadful. Do get him to sit down.”

“We have a little interruption here, Mr. Charman, but that does not matter. I cannot and will not let the hevening pass hover without doing what I consider to be my dooty. Gentlemen, one and hall, my hobject in addressing you is easily expressed, and I intend to keep the hobject in my heye. I’m going to ask you to drink the ’ealth of Mr. Magnet, and at the same time I want you to join me in thanking ’im for all his kindness.”

The health of the charman was drunk with enthusiasm, and, much to the delight of those around him, the pertinacious flunkey sat down.

He had by this time imbibed enough to float a four-oared cutter, and the only wonder was that he did not make a greater fool of himself.

The chairman responded in an amusing speech, and the hilarity was very soon at its height.

It was intimated that everything was ready for the dance, the next room had been cleared, and the musicians were playing some lively strains.

There was a general exodus, most of the company betaking themselves to the ball-room.

Peace and his coadjutors comported themselves very well—​the music was bright, crisp, and inspiring.

The musicians were stationed in a gallery at the end of the room, and Peace had no opportunity of mixing with the throng of dancers beneath.

He commanded, however, an excellent view of all that was going on, and was by no means consoled by seeing the girl Nelly dancing with one partner after another, without even condescending to regard him with a passing glance.

This, of course, was irritating to a man of his choleric temperament, but there was no help for it; he was compelled to submit with the best grace he could.

There was a number of young and pretty women among the throng, and, as a matter of course, a vast deal of flirtation took place in the course of the evening.

Mr. Jakyl was evidently anxious that neither his fellow-servants nor his guests should overstep the bounds of prudence.

Some of the young farmers were far too demonstrative and noisy to please the discreet and prudent butler, who, to say the truth, would in all probability feel greatly relieved when the festivities of the evening were brought to a termination.

Those who lived some distance from the hall now began to take their departure, and, in the course of another hour, more than half the visitors had left.

Mr. Jakyl came up into the gallery and personally thanked Peace and his confederates for their services. He at the same time placed wines and other refreshments before them.

He was certainly a well-behaved, considerate man, who never failed to look after the comforts of those who came within his sphere of action.

The guests at the hall now began to leave rapidly and the evening’s amusements were brought to a close. The musicians were thanked once more by the butler, Henry Adolphus, and many others of the household, and our hero returned to the old “Carved Lion,” in company of its genial landlord, who had been footing it merrily for an hour or more.