Edward Barnett; a Neglected Child of South Carolina, Who Rose to Be a Peer of Great Britain,--and the Stormy Life of His Grandfather, Captain Williams.
by Tobias Aconite.
THE EARL"S VICTIMS.
CHAPTER I.
THE STEWARD.
Earl de Montford sat in a plainly furnished room in his stately mansion.
Gorgeously decorated as were the other apartments of his princely residence, this apartment, with its plain business-look--its hard benches for such of the tenantry as came to him or his agent on business--its walls garnished with abstracts of the Game and Poor Law Enactments--its worn old chairs and heavy oak presses, the open doors of some of which disclosed bundles of old papers, parchments, etc.--this little room, the only one almost ever seen by any save the aristocracy and their followers--exercised and contained frequently more of human hope and fear than any other or the whole of the others of this sumptuous edifice. Here the toil-worn farmer came to pay his dues to the Lord of the Manor--here often too with beating heart and quivering lip, the old servant of the soil came to beg for time--time to enable him by hard pinching to make up his proportion of the sum spent in luxury by his landlord. Ah! reader! could those old walls reveal the sounds, the tales of human suffering, of heartless avarice, and callous indifference--of sneering a.s.sumption and hopeless woe, thy brain would be as fire, thy heart would sicken, and thy blood would boil, till rushing over every prudent thought, through grinding teeth and pa.s.sion-paling lips would start, the one wild word, Revenge!
I have said the room was plainly furnished, but there was one exception--the chair in which the Earl sat. This was an old one, formerly the chair of state in which the old Barons his ancestors had presided at many a scene of wa.s.sail, with their retainers. It had been stuffed and new-covered to suit modern luxury, but the armorial bearings remained still carved in the wood of the high back, with the proud motto, "Nulli Secundi," second to none.
The Earl was not alone. His agent, a hard-featured man of business, sat at a desk, busy with papers, and a venerable old man, who had been his father"s steward, stood a little behind his chair. There was a frown on the brow of the n.o.bleman, as after a stern glance at the old man, he asked,
"Has that scoundrel been apprehended yet?"
"He has not, your lordship," said the agent, slowly folding up a doc.u.ment; "nor does it seem likely he will be. I have had the old haunts searched--I have, as you directed, promised large rewards for his apprehension, and threatened the tenants if they harbor him, but no clue to his hiding-place has yet been discovered. I am afraid he has left."
"He has not," interrupted the Earl. "He is here, in this neighbourhood.
I feel his hated presence. He must have harborers, Johnson. The parvenu millionaire--the cotton lord--harbors these ruffians by refusing to prosecute poachers. He preaches equal rights, forsooth! Break down his fences--send my deer to stray into his park--get some one to fire his barns--I will pay them. He has thwarted me, and he shall feel the agony of a long and fluctuating law-suit. Oh! for one day of my Norman ancestors! I would sweep such vermin from the earth. Waters!" said he, turning to the steward, "beware! I have, from respect to my father"s memory, somewhat restrained myself towards you. You have pleaded this man"s cause. Say no more. He has threatened me--dared to use reproaches and threats to a peer of the realm--he shall be crushed as a noxious reptile!"
"My lord," said the old man firmly, "I was your father"s steward--I was your grandfather"s foster-brother and playmate--man and boy, I have been in the service of your family for over seventy years, and for the love of your house have I withstood you in wrong-doing--I beseech you again, let this man go. You well know he is an injured man. Add not more to that final account which you as well as I must one day render before G.o.d."
"Palter such trash to coward fools!--I want none of your priestcraft,"
returned the n.o.bleman. "Do I not know the reason of all this affected love for justice and mercy. Your grand-daughter was to have married this midnight robber--they were betrothed, or some such trash. Find him--doubtless _she_ knows how--let them marry--such a son-in-law will be an honor to your family, and a comfort to your declining years."
"Your insinuations and your sneers fall as harmless upon me as your threats," said the steward with dignity. "I am eighty-nine, and shall soon be beyond them: but when you brand with undeserved infamy one who never injured you--when you accuse my innocent grandchild of being privy to the concealment of a midnight robber, as you but now called the unhappy man whom your ill-usage, whom your misdeeds drove from a happy home and honorable course of life, you commit an action, only equalled in its baseness, by its cowardice!"
The Earl started up, purple with rage. For a moment, he seemed about to strike the aged form before him. He paused, however, and stood regarding him with clenched hands and furious look, and every evil pa.s.sion glaring from his eyes. The steward moved not one inch, but confronted him in the majesty of venerable age.
The agent paused not for one moment in his task, but quietly labelling and tying up a pile of doc.u.ments, placed it in its proper pigeon hole, and went on with methodical exactness to the next. They were a strange group. The man of business in his chair, pursuing his work as if no other were present, but observing all that took place nevertheless; the n.o.bleman in the prime of glorious manhood, n.o.ble, as far as physical beauty could go; handsome, rich, accomplished, intellectual, but distorted as that face was now, in his rage, ugly, hideous in the extreme as he gazed upon the calm face slightly flushed with virtuous indignation, the spare form and silver locks of the aged man who dared to stand between him and the victims of his wrath.
Gradually the face of the n.o.bleman became calmer, one by one the lines of pa.s.sion disappeared and an expression of cold sarcasm took possession of his features; he threw himself into his chair and turned to the agent.
"Mr. Lambert, be pleased to pay particular attention to my orders, that is if your nerves are not too much discomposed by the exciting piece of eloquence Mr. Waters has just favored us with for my especial benefit.
Gad! Waters, you"d do the heavy fathers finely on the stage. I"ll write to Davidge for you, that last speech of yours was capital; couldn"t you favor us with a finishing touch, we are all attention." The agent placed his papers on the table, and wheeling his chair round, sat in imitation of his master as if in expectation of hearing some rich joke.
The single word "G.o.d!" escaped the steward as he turned to leave the room; he gave one glance around as if for the last time looking on those familiar objects, cast a sorrowful glance at his master, and was about to quit, when his eye was arrested by a picture; it was that of frank and n.o.ble boy in the pride of youth and beauty, his face ruddy with exercise, his eye bright with intellect. It was a portrait of the Earl when a boy.
He turned towards them once more.
"My lord," said he, "I pa.s.s by your harsh speeches of me and mine. It may be I spoke too rudely myself. I will dwell no longer on the past, it is irrevocable; of my broken-hearted grandchild; of her young love, which was twined too strong around her heart, for one to perish without the other; of my own head grey in your service I will never more speak--but oh! for the love that bright boy once bore me, here on my knees, I entreat you, spare this man, who once was your playmate, spare him as you would be spared yourself; for let not your proud heart deceive you, not all your array of domestics, not all your barred doors, can save you from a violent death, or the guilt of murder, if you do not stop this unrighteous prosecution--for your own sake I entreat you stop, ere it be too late. Spurn this grey head if you will into the dust, but listen and spare."
The Earl was unmoved as marble.
The old man left with bent head and slow step. "Lambert, you will issue a notice, offering 500 to any one who captures Horace Hunter, dead or alive--also on pain of expulsion from the property, forbid any one harboring him; send for two London officers. These country b.u.mpkins will never find him. Enquire for a dissolute fellow, known by the name of Curly Tom--pay him well: he perhaps may track him, in short, find this man and punishment to death shall follow."
"It shall on you!" said a loud voice, apparently near them.
The Earl sprang to the window, and jumped out, the agent trembling remained, not a living being was in sight--the window opened upon a smooth lawn, there was not a chance of a person escaping notice, but no one was there; he summoned the domestics; they searched--no one was found, they had seen no one. Frantic with rage, yet with an ill-defined sensation of fear, the n.o.bleman, re-entered the mansion, and dismissing every one, locked himself in an inner chamber.
The agent waited until his master was gone; then seated himself in the chair of state, and mused. "Let me see! 500, too much to slip from my hands. I will find this Curly Tom myself--I think I know him--and if I can but keep him sober--and promise him a good carouse when Hunter"s caught, he will entrap him--for these scoundrels all know how to find one another--500, too much for any of these b.u.mpkins constables, no, no, I must have it--there is danger though--I must think over it--that voice was queer, where could it come from--could any one be in the presses?" After s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his courage to the task, he opened them fearfully one by one; there was nothing there but the old papers before mentioned. He stooped and stood leaning against the mantelpiece, over which was the Earl"s picture--then puzzled, but determined on his course of action, he left the room and took his way to the village. He was not far from the house, when a servant called to him. "You have a paper on your back, Mr. Lambert," said he. He took his coat off; on the back, fastened with a pin, was a paper, with the single word, doomed, written upon it. The man of business was puzzled; he was not altogether a coward, but this was not a business proceeding; he said nothing, however, but methodically folded it up, placed it in his pocket book, and proceeded.
CHAPTER II.
THE VILLAGE ALE-HOUSE.
Railroads were unknown in the times in which our story occurred, and the village ale-house was still the rendezvous of the villagers of an evening; the parson still occasionally looked in and smoked his pipe with the lawyer, the exciseman, the s.e.xton, and the parish-clerk; while the st.u.r.dy farmers, the smith, the butcher, and baker formed another circle; while the laborers and ploughmen, the butcher-boy and the tailor"s apprentice lounged in to drink with greedy ears the news; to listen to the wise saws of the village politicians, and become in due time convinced that by some strange freak of fortune the only persons incompetent to rule the country were those in power at the time. Mrs.
Alice Goodfellow, the landlady and proprietress of this village elysium, fair, fat, and forty, was a buxom widow, shrewd, good-humored and fond of pleasure, but careful withal and fond of admiration. She never, however, allowed any one of her admirers, to suppose himself more favored than the rest; neither did she suffer any of them to languish in despair. If she allowed the smith to hand her to her pew in church on Sunday, she, nevertheless, smiled sweetly on the baker; and if she took a drive in Farmer Dobson"s pony-chaise for her health, yet, Farmer Thomas would sit for hours inside her bar; the truth was, the good widow was perfectly well aware that her snug little free-hold and thriving little trade were quite as great objects of attraction as her delectable self, and acting on the same principle as that old humbug "Elizabeth,"
insanely called "the good Queen Bess," viz: the balancing opposite interests, she drew custom to her house and grist to her mill, without troubling herself as to selection from her numerous admirers, which, besides displeasing the others, would place another in authority over that bar, which, for the last ten years, she had ruled monarch of all she surveyed. She had no relative, save one nephew, a wild, shy boy, strange and moody in his habits, pa.s.sing whole days no one knew where--holding little or no communication with any of those who visited the tavern--none at all with the boys of the village, poring over some book of wild adventure when at home, ranging the woods with an old duck gun on his shoulders, or laying down beneath some shady tree poring over the same wild legends when abroad. His aunt could make nothing of him, and n.o.body else took the trouble. The curate, indeed, tried to teach him once or twice, but he disconcerted the old man so by discharging his musket at an old wig, hanging by the wall in the midst of a lecture on the propriety of going to school, that he gave him up as hopeless.
The tap-room presented its usual evening appearance when the agent entered. The curate and lawyer were deep in a discussion on the beauties of the new poor-law; the farmers grumbling at the weather; the landlady quietly seated behind the bar, while the bar-maid, a smart, coquettish girl of nineteen, carried the ale and brandy around to the thirsty customers, and all the usual concomitants of a scene then common, but, what we must now call of the olden time, though half a century has scarce pa.s.sed away since it occurred. The agent was a great man there, few liked him--in fact, all hated him, for though generally a just man, he was entirely a man of business; punctuality was his deity--there was no excuse with him for not meeting rent or bills when due; he did not overcharge or wrong anyone, but he must have his bond, like Shylock, without his ferocity. If money was due it must be paid; sickness, bad crops, death itself was nothing to him; if not, he proceeded _legally_; oh, what a world of anguish! what a number of crimes, crying aloud to Heaven for justice and retribution, are committed under the cloak of Man"s legality. The type was forged in h.e.l.l that stamped the letter of the law.
The agent, after exchanging courtesies, lip-deep, with the princ.i.p.al farmers, the curate, etc., walked up to the bar and entered into conversation with Mrs. Ally, as she was usually called.
"His lordship has desired me, Mrs. Ally, to put this notice up in a conspicuous place in your tavern, perhaps you will oblige me by placing it in a proper position." So saying, he handed her the paper containing the reward, etc., offered for the apprehension of Hunter.
"You may stick it up yourself on the parish pump, Mr. Lambert, if you like, but my bar is no station-house or cage; give it to the town crier," said the dame bristling, for she hated the agent, and feared him not.
"Dang my b.u.t.tons!" said a burly farmer, "Mrs. Ally ha the agent dumbfoundered--what be the matter?"
"It is simply this, good friends," said the agent: "his lordship has offered a reward of 500;--500," said the agent, slowly repeating the sum, "for the apprehension of the notorious poacher, Horace Hunter, who has threatened his life, and will visit with his gravest displeasure any one who harbors him, or in any way countenances him; if a tenant he shall be discharged; and Mrs. Ally here, refuses to let me place the notice in her bar, thereby showing great disregard for my lord"s wishes, to say the least."
The farmers mostly shrunk back on this speech; the name of a lord, and that lord their landlord, appalled them. They knew the bitter wrong he had heaped upon Hunter"s devoted head; they well could sympathize with him; they had known him a gay and thriving farmer, their lord"s especial favorite--fatal favor--the companionship of the tiger and the deer. The beauty of Hunter"s sister had struck the libidinous eye of the aristocratic villain--need I say more? ruin and desolation followed--no one knew what had become of her. The brother had been kidnapped by a press-gang, but of course the Earl knew nothing of that; he was now, however, supposed to be lurking in the neighborhood. The Earl had received a letter in which the brother"s heart had been poured out in bitterness; he had injured, therefore he could not forgive. Not so, however, Mrs. Alice; she did not fear the lord one jot, and folks did say, she knew more about him than he would like told; be that as it may, she loudly protested against its being placed there at all; and was still indignantly haranguing; now crying shame upon his lordship; now bewailing poor Ellen, who had been a great favorite of hers, when her eccentric nephew entered; he looked dusty and fatigued, but there was a strange smile upon his lips as he looked at the agent. Without saying a word he walked straight up to the agent, and taking the paper from his hand procured a hammer and some tacks and nailed it up in the most conspicuous place in the bar, displacing some of his aunt"s ornaments in so doing; then drinking a mug of ale, he threw himself along a bench and was or seemed to be sound asleep.
"Dash ma wig," said the farmer, who had before spoken, "that dangs all, the boy be daft and Mrs. Ally doant say nuthen--he be queer for sartain."
Mrs. Ally said not a word, but gazed on her nephew with mute astonishment; she did not, however, attempt to remove the obnoxious paper. The agent having in this unexpected manner gained his point, called for wine and sat down with the curate, lawyer, etc. He had yet another object--to find Curly Tom, no easy matter, that worthy being by no means a welcome guest there; that he did come there sometimes, however, Lambert knew, for as long as no warrant was out against him, however bad his character, he could not be turned away from the inn when he paid his shot; he did not like openly to ask for such a character, but sat down trusting that when the ale made the farmers loquacious he should gain some clue to his whereabouts. Fortune seemed destined to be his friend in more than one way that evening. The sound of a pistol shot was heard in the road leading towards the seaport, which was some ten miles distant; and a few moments after, a burly seafaring man entered the tap-room, dragging after him, in his powerful grasp, a ruffianly ill-looking countryman; no other indeed than the man of all others Lambert wished most to see, viz: Curly Tom.
"Cast your anchor there," said the seaman, "and if you attempt to slip moorings, afore you"ve been over-hauled by the skipper, split my topsails but I"ll bring you up all standing with this barking iron,"
pressing the muzzle of a pistol to the fellow"s forehead.
"Put up your pistol," said the fellow sullenly. "I beant going to run; you"ve broke my head and dinged all the wind oot of ma body."
"What is the matter, my good man?" said Mr. Lambert, coming forward. "I am a magistrate, and can take your deposition."
"Matter!" said the sailor, "piracy is the matter. I was making for this ere port, charged with despatches from my commanding officer, when this ere shark ranges alongside and pops his barking iron into my face, and wants me to break cargo and hand over to him, but I brought my harpoon handle to bear on his figure head and he capsized, and his barker got foul of his rigging, then I roused him up and brought him along to this port."
"Highway robbery and attempt at murder," said the agent. "Simpkins, you are constable, take this man in charge, while I make out his committal.
Stay!" he added, "the cage is very insecure, and this is no trifling case. You had better take him up to the castle, my lord will examine him in the morning, and there is a strong room there; meantime, Mrs. Ally will perhaps see to his wound, it looks an ugly one."