Читать книгу Kate Coventry - An Autobiography - George J. Whyte-Melville - Страница 7

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OW then, Kate, late as usual; my phaeton's at the door, and we've only an hour and five minutes to do the twelve miles," said Cousin John's cheery voice as he accosted me on the following morning, running upstairs to change my dress after my early ride. Yes, notwithstanding the ball the night before, I was not going to disappoint Brilliant of his gallop; besides, these things are all habit; if you once get accustomed to early hours nothing is so easy as to keep to them. Why, even Captain Lovell was in the park as usual with his cigar—he seems regular enough about that, at all events—and he took his hat off so gracefully when he spied me cantering up the Ride that I hadn't the heart to pass without stopping just to say, "How d'ye do?" but of course I didn't shake hands with him.

"Come, Kate, bustle, bustle," exclaimed that fidget John; and in less time than my lady-readers would believe, I had put on my pink bonnet and my white dress, and was bowling down to Richmond by the side of my cousin, behind a roan and a chestnut that stepped away in a style that it did one good to see.

"What a clipper that off-horse is, John," said I as we cleared London, and got to the level road by Kew Gardens; "let me take the reins for five minutes—they're going so pleasantly." But John don't like me to drive anything more sporting than a pony-carriage, and he refused point blank, which, to say the least of it, was brutal on his part. If I hadn't thought it would make me sick, I should have liked to smoke, on purpose to provoke him. We did the distance with three minutes to spare, and as we pulled up in front of the Castle Hotel, I was proud to hear the admiration our tout ensemble elicited from a knot of idlers lounging round the door. "'Ere's a spicy set-out, Bill," said one. "Crickey! vot a pretty gal!" said another. "Vouldn't I like to be Vilikins with she for a Dinah!" exclaimed the dirtiest of the conclave; and although I appreciated the compliment, I was forced to turn my back on my unwashed admirer, and reply to the greetings of the picnic party we had come down to join.

There was Mrs. Molasses and her two daughters to begin with, people of unheard-of wealth, of which they seemed to carry a large portion on their persons. The mamma, ample, black-eyed, fresh-coloured, and brocaded, with an extremely natural wig. The eldest daughter, Mary, with whom I had afterwards reason to be better acquainted, pale, languid, very quiet, and low-toned, with fine eyes, and soft dark hair, and what people call an interesting look. She took the sentimental line—was all feeling and poetry, and milk and water, and as easily frightened as she was reassured again. The younger girl, Jane, was the very reverse of her sister—short and dark and energetic, rather blue, and I thought a little impudent; however, I liked her the best of the two. Then came Sir Guy and Lady Scapegrace. The Baronet, a stout, square, elderly man, with enormous dyed whiskers and hair to match, combining as much as possible the manners of the coachman with the morals of the roué. A tremendous dandy of the Four-in-hand Club school—high neckcloth, huge pins, gorgeous patterns, enormous buttons, and a flower in his mouth. His lady as handsome as a star, though a little hollow-eyed and passée. She looked like a tragedy queen, with her magnificent figure, and long black hair, and fierce flashing eyes, and woe-begone expression, and the black velvet ribbon with its diamond cross, which she always wore round her neck. Ah me! what stories that diamond-cross could tell, if all be true that we hear of Lady Scapegrace! A girl sold for money, to become a rebellious wife to an unfeeling husband. A handsome young cousin, who cut his own throat in despair—they brought it in temporary insanity, of course. An elopement with a gallant Major to the south of France, and a duel there, in which the Major was shot, but not by Sir Guy; an English lady of rank travelling on the Continent, independent and alone, breaking banks in all directions with her luck and hearts with her beauty; a reconciliation, entirely for money considerations, which drove another far less erring woman into a madhouse (but that was Sir Guy's fault); and a darker tale still of a certain potion prepared by her hand, which the Baronet was prevented from swallowing only by his invariable habit of contradicting his wife on all points, and which the lady herself had the effrontery to boast "would have settled all accounts." Not a word of truth in any of these stories probably; but still, such is the character the world's good nature affixes to that dark handsome woman at whom Cousin John seems so very much alarmed.

Then there was an elderly Miss Minnows, who was horribly afraid of catching cold, but in whose character I could perceive no other very salient point; and a fair-haired young gentleman, whose name I did not distinctly catch, and who looked as if he ought to have been at school, where, indeed, I think he would have been much happier; and sundry regular stereotyped London men and women, well bred and well dressed, and cool and composed, and altogether thoroughly respectable and stupid; and a famous author, who drank a great deal of wine, and never opened his lips to speak; and I think that was all—no, by-the-bye, there was Captain Lovell, who came very late, and we went soberly into Richmond Park, and dined under a tree.

I do not think I quite like a picnic. It is all very well, like most other arrangements, if everything goes right; but I sat between Sir Guy Scapegrace and the light-haired young gentleman, and although I could hear lots of fun going on at the other end of the tablecloth, where Cousin John and Mary Molasses and Captain Lovell had got together, I was too far off to partake of it, and my vis-à-vis, Lady Scapegrace, scowled at me so from under her black eyebrows, though I believe utterly unconsciously, that she made me feel quite nervous. Then it was not reassuring to have that odious Sir Guy pressing me to eat everything, and looking right under my bonnet, and asking me to drink champagne at least four times; and if I turned to my other neighbour, and ventured to address him on the most commonplace subject, he blushed so painfully that I began to think he was quite as much afraid of me as I was of Sir Guy. Altogether I was rather glad when the things were cleared away and put back into the hampers, and the gentlemen asked leave to light their cigars, and we broke up our circle, and lounged about and enjoyed ourselves in the shade of those fine trees on that dry velvet sward. We were rather put to it though for amusement, and had to propose games of forfeits and other pastimes; and Cousin John, quite unwittingly, got me into a sad scrape by boasting about his horses. "Not such another pair out of London to-day," expatiated John to the company in general. "We came down in seven minutes under the hour from my aunt's door in Lowndes Street; didn't we, Kate? And never turned a hair; did we, Kate? Why, they went so smooth Kate couldn't keep her hands off the reins; could you, Kate? And there are few better judges, let me tell you, than Miss Coventry." I saw the ladies look at me, and then at each other; and I knew by that indescribable glance, which none but a woman can thoroughly appreciate, how from that moment they had vowed, one and all, to hate me eternally in their hearts. The offence had been committed; the sentence had gone forth. I had been tried for being fast, and found guilty nem. com., from sneering Lady Scapegrace to unmeaning Miss Minnows; each stared at me for about two seconds, and so made up her mind. I cannot think why it is that this should be so great a crime in the eyes of my own sex. Next to being attractive to the other half of creation—and that I can easily understand is totally unpardonable—there is nothing makes a woman so angry with her sister as high spirits, natural courage, and above all a love for a horse. It is very hard upon us that we should be debarred from all out-of-door exercises and amusements by the prejudices of those very individuals who ought to back us up in our efforts to enlarge the circle of our amusements. I cannot see why it follows that because I do not mind "weather," I must, therefore, be utterly regardless of morality; nor how my knack of breaking in a horse should imply an infraction of all the commandments. Are men the only bipeds that can be at the same time brave and virtuous? Must pluck and piety be for ever divorced in the female character? Shall I never be able to keep the straight path in life because I can turn an awkward corner with four horses at a trot? Female voices answer volubly in the negative, and I give in.

But odious Sir Guy thinks none the worse of me for my coaching predilections. "Fond of driving, Miss Coventry?" says he, leering at me from over his great choking neckcloth. "Seen my team—three greys and a piebald? If you like going fast I can accommodate you. Proud to take you back on my drag. What? Go on the box. Drive, if you like. Hey!"

I confess for one instant, much as I hated the old reprobate, I should have liked to go, if it was only to make all the women so angry; but just then I caught Captain Lovell's eye fixed upon me with a strange, earnest expression, and all at once I felt that nothing should induce me to trust myself with Sir Guy. I couldn't help blushing though as I declined, more particularly when my would-be charioteer swore he considered it "an engagement, hey?—only put off to another time—get the coach new painted—begad, Miss Coventry's favourite colour!" And the old monster grinned in my face till I could have boxed his ears.

The author by this time was fast asleep, with a handkerchief over his face, Miss Minnows searching in vain for a fabulous pair of clogs, as she imagined the dew must be falling—it was about six p.m., and hot June weather. Sir Guy was off to the hampers in search of "brandy and soda," and the rest of the party lounging about in twos and threes, when Captain Lovell proposed we should stroll down to the river and have a row in the cool of the evening. Mary Molasses voted it "charming;" Lady Scapegrace was willing to go anywhere away from Sir Guy; John, of course, all alive for a lark; and though Mrs. Molasses preferred remaining on dry land, she had no objection to trusting her girls with us. So we mustered a strong party for embarkation on Father Thames. Our two cavaliers ran forward to get the boat ready, Captain Lovell bounding over the fences and stiles almost as actively as Brilliant could have done; and John, who is no mean proficient at such exercises, following him; whilst we ladies paced along soberly in the rear.

"Can you row, Miss Coventry?" asked Lady Scapegrace, who seemed to have taken rather a fancy to me, probably out of contradiction to the other women. "I can. I rowed four miles once on the Lake of Geneva," she added in her deep, melancholy voice, "and we were caught in one of those squalls and nearly lost. If it hadn't been for poor Alphonse, not one of us could have escaped. I wonder if drowning's a painful death, Miss Coventry; the water always looks so inviting."

"Goodness, Lady Scapegrace!" exclaimed I; "don't take this opportunity of finding out. None of us can swim but John; and if he saves anybody, he's solemnly engaged to save me."

"I quite agree with you, Lady Scapegrace," said the romantic Miss Molasses. "It looks so peaceful, and gives one such an idea of repose. I for one have not the slightest fear of death, or indeed of any mere bodily changes—Gracious goodness! the bull! the bull!"

What a rout it was! The courageous young lady who thus gave us the first intimation of danger leading the flight with a speed and activity of which I should have thought her languid frame totally incapable; Lady Scapegrace making use of her long legs with an utter forgetfulness of her usually grave and tragic demeanour; and the rest of the party seeking safety helter-skelter.

It was indeed a situation of some peril. Our course to the riverside had led us through a long narrow strip of meadow-land, bounded by high impervious thorn fences, such as I knew would be bullfinches in the winter, and which now, in all the luxuriance of summer foliage, presented a mass of thorns and fragrance that no mortal could expect to get through. At either end of the field was a high hog-backed stile, such as ladies usually make considerable difficulties about surmounting, but which are by no means so impossible of transit when an infuriated bull is bringing up the rear. We were already a quarter of the way across the field, when Miss Mary's exclamation made us aware of our enemy, who had been quietly cropping the grass in a corner behind us, but who now, roused by our gaudy dresses and the piercing screams of some of our party, was lashing himself into a rage, and looking sufficiently mischievous to be a very unpleasant acquaintance. It was impossible to turn round and make for the stile we had just left, as the bull now occupied a position exactly between us and that place of safety; it was hopeless, particularly in our light muslin gowns, to attempt the hedge on either side; there was nothing for it but a fair run to the other end of the meadow, about a quarter of a mile, and sauve qui peut was now the order of the day.

I will not allow that I am deficient in courage; on the contrary, as Cousin John says, "I am rather proud of my pluck;" but there is nothing so contagious as a panic, and I too ran for my very life. The bull came galloping after us, tossing his head and rolling his great body about as if he quite enjoyed the fun; nor do I know how the adventure would have ended, for he must have overtaken some of us before we could reach our haven, had not Lady Scapegrace caught her foot in the long grass, and, falling prostrate, buried her face in her hands, and giving herself up, as she afterwards assured me, to the prospect of a horrible and violent death. I could not leave her in such a situation. By an impulse for which I cannot account I stopped short, turned round, got between the pursuer and his fallen foe, and with a beating heart and my knees knocking together, faced the great mischievous brute with no other weapon, offensive or defensive, than a laced pocket handkerchief.

I got between the pursuer and his fallen foe.

I believe he was a well-meaning bull after all; for instead of crashing in upon me, as I half expected he would, and immolating me on the spot, he too stopped short, stared, bellowed, and began sniffing the grass, and pawing up the turf, and whisking his tail about, just as Brilliant does when he is going to lie down. I don't think he had ever seen a young lady, certainly not a French bonnet before, and he didn't seem to know what to make of the combination; so there we stood, he and I staring each other out of countenance, but without proceeding to any further extremities. I know I have plenty of courage, for after the first minute I wasn't the least bit afraid; I felt just as I do when I ride at a large fence—as I get nearer and nearer I feel something rising and rising within me that enables me to face anything; and so when I had confronted the bull for a little time I felt inclined to carry the war into the enemy's country, and advance upon him. But of course all this is very indelicate and unfeminine; and it would have been far more virtuous and lady-like to have run shrieking away like Miss Molasses, or laid down and given in at once like poor Lady Scapegrace, who was quite resigned to being tossed and trampled upon, and only gave vent every now and then to a stifled moan.

Well, at last I did advance a few steps, and the bull gave ground in the same proportion. I began to think I should beat him after all, when to my great relief, I must allow, I heard a voice behind me exclaim, "By Jove, what a plucky girl!" and I thought I heard something muttered that sounded very like "darling," but of course that couldn't be meant for me; and Captain Lovell, hot, handsome, and breathless, made his appearance, and soon drove our enemy into the farthest corner of the field. As soon as the coast was clear we raised poor Lady Scapegrace, who kissed me with tears in her eyes as she thanked me for what she called "saving her life." I had no idea the woman had so much feeling. Captain Lovell gave each of us an arm as we walked on to join our party, and he explained how the screams of Miss Molasses had reached him even at the riverside, and how he had turned and hastened back immediately, "Fortunately in time to be of some use. But I never saw a finer thing done, Miss Coventry; if I live to a hundred I shall never forget it;" and he looked as if he would have added, "or you either."

Many were the exclamations, and much the conversation created by our adventure. The ladies who had run away so gallantly were of course too much agitated for the proposed boating excursion; so after sundry restoratives at the hotel we ordered the carriages to return to town. Cousin John gave "Frank" (as he calls him) a place in the back seat of his phaeton, and he leaned over and talked to me the whole way home. What a pleasant drive it was in the moonlight, and how happy I felt! I was really sorry when we got back to London. Frank seemed quite anxious to make Aunt Deborah's acquaintance; and I thought I shouldn't wonder if he was to call in Lowndes Street very soon.