Beau Brocade: A Romance by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy
CHAPTER XII
THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE ROSE
But of course there was no time to be lost. Captain Jack Bathurst wasthe first to give the alarm.
"Those gallant lobsters won't be long in finding out that they've beenhoodwinked," he said, "an I mistake not, they'll return here anon with atemper slightly the worse for wear. They must not find your lordshiphere at anyrate," he added earnestly.
"But what's to be done?" asked Patience, all her anxiety returning in atrice, and instinctively turning for guidance to the man who already haddone so much for her.
"For the next hour or two at anyrate his lordship would undoubtedly besafer on the open Moor," said Bathurst, decisively. "'Tis nigh onsunset, and the shepherds are busy gathering in their flocks. There'llbe no one about, and 'twould be safer."
"On the open Moor?"
"Aye! 'tis not a bad place," he said, with a touch of sadness in hisfresh young voice. "I myself..."
He checked himself and continued more quietly,--
"Your lordship could return here after sundown. You'd be safe enough forthe night. After that, an you'll grant me leave, my friend Stich and Iwill venture to devise some better plan for your safety. For the moment,I pray you, be guided by this good advice, and seek the protection ofthe open Moor."
He had spoken so earnestly, with such obvious heartfelt concern, and atthe same time with such quiet firmness, that instinctively Philip feltinclined to obey; the weaker nature turned for support to the strongerone, to whose dominating influence it felt compelled to yield. Heturned to Patience, and her eyes seemed to tell him that she was readyto trust this stranger.
"Aye! I'll go, sir!" he sighed wearily.
He kissed his sister with all the fondness of his aching heart. All hishopes for the future were centred in her and in the long journey she wasabout to undertake for his sake.
Bathurst discreetly left brother and sister alone. He knew nothing oftheir affairs, of their plans, their hopes. Stich was too loyal tospeak of his lord, even to a man whom he trusted and respected as he didthe Captain. The latter knew that a hunted man was in hiding in thesmith's forge, he had taken a message from the man to the lady atStretton Hall, now he knew for certain that the fugitive was the Earl ofStretton. But that was all.
Being outside the pale of the law himself, his sympathies at once rangedthemselves on the side of the fugitive. Whether the latter were guiltyor innocent mattered little to Jack Bathurst; what did matter to him wasthat the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on was unhappy and intears.
Philip, seeing that he could talk to his sister unobserved, whisperedeagerly,--
"The letters, dear, have a care; how will you carry them?"
"In the drawer underneath the seat of the coach," she whispered inreply. "I'll not leave the coach day or night until I've reachedLondon. From Wirksworth onwards I'll be travelling with relays: I needneither spare horses nor waste a moment's time. I can be in town inless than six days."
"When will your coach be ready?"
"In a few minutes now, and I'll start at once: but go, go now, dear,"she urged tenderly, "since Captain Bathurst thinks it better that youshould."
She kissed him again and again, her heart full of hope and excitement atthought of what she could do for him, yet aching because of thisparting. It was terrible to leave him in this awful peril, to be faraway if danger once again became imminent!
When at last he had torn himself away from her, he made quickly for thedoor, where Bathurst had been waiting for him.
"Ah, sir!" sighed Philip, bitterly, "'tis a sorry plight for a soldierand a gentleman to hide for his life like a coward and a thief."
But Bathurst before leaving was looking back at the beautiful picture ofPatience's sweet face bathed in tears.
"Like a thief?" he murmured. "Nay, sir, thieves have no angels to guardand love them: methinks you have no cause to complain of your fate."
There was perhaps just a thought of bitterness in his voice as he saidthis, and Patience turned to him, and gazed at him in tender womanlypity through her tears. At once the electrical, sunny nature within himagain gained the upper hand. Laughter and gaiety seemed with him to bealways close to the surface, ready to ripple out at any moment, andcalling forth hope and confidence in those around.
"An you'll accept my escort, sir," he said cheerfully to Philip, "I'llshow you a sheltered spot known only to myself ... and to Jack o'Lantern," he added, giving a passing tender tap to his beautiful horse."He and I are very fond of the Moor, eh, Jack, old friend? ... We arethe two Jacks, you see, sir, and seldom are seen apart. Together wediscovered the spot which I will show you, sir, and where you can lie_perdu_ until nightfall. 'Tis safe and lonely and but a step from thisforge."
Philip accepted the offer gratefully. Like his sister, he too felt thathe could trust Jack Bathurst. As he walked by his side along theunbeaten track on the Heath, he viewed with some curiosity, not unmixedwith boyish admiration, the tall, well-knit figure of his gallantrescuer. He tried to think of him as the notorious highwayman, BeauBrocade, on whose head the Government had put the price of a hundredguineas.
A hero of romance he was in the hearts of the whole country-side, yet afelon in the eyes of the law. Philip could just see his noble profile,with the well-cut features, the boyish, sensitive mouth, firm chin andstraight, massive brow, over which a mass of heavy brown curls clusteredin unruly profusion.
A brave man, surely--Philip had experienced that; a wise one too inspite of his youth. Stretton guessed his companion to be still underthirty years of age, and yet there was at times, in spite of theinherently sunny disposition below, a look of melancholy, ofdisappointment, in the deep, grey eyes, which spoke of a wasted life, ofopportunities lost perhaps, or of persistent adverse fate.
Through it all there was that quaint air of foppishness, the manners andappearance of a dandy about the Court. The caped coat was dark andserviceable, but it was of the finest cloth and of the latest, mostfashionable cut, and beneath it peeped a dainty silk waistcoat,delicately embroidered.
The lace at throat and wrists was of the finest Mechlin, and the boots,though stout and heavy, betrayed the smallness and the arch of the foot.Though Jack Bathurst had obviously been riding, he carried neither whipnor cane.
All that Philip observed in this rapid walk to the place of shelterwhich Bathurst had thought out for him, Patience, with a woman's quickperception, had noted from the first. To her, of course, the Captainwas but a gallant stranger, good to look at and replete with all thechivalrous attributes this troublous century called forth in the heartsof her sons. She knew naught of Beau Brocade the highwayman, andprobably would have recoiled in horror at thought of connecting the nameof a thief with that of her newly-found hero of romance.
She stood in the doorway for some time, watching with glowing eyes thefigures of the two men, until they disappeared behind a high clump ofgorse: then with a curious little sigh she turned and went within.
John Stich and Mistress Betty were carrying on an animated conversationin a remote corner of the forge. Patience did not wish to disturb them:she was deeply grateful to John, and felt kindly disposed towards thesuggestion of romance conveyed by the smith's obvious appreciation ofpretty Mistress Betty.
She crossed the shed, and opening the door at the further end of it, shefound that it gave upon a small yard which separated the forge from thecottage, and in which Stich and his mother, who kept house for him, hadwith tender care succeeded in cultivating a few flowers: only one or twotall hollyhocks, some gay-looking sunflowers, and a few sweet-scentedherbs. And on the south aspect a lovely trail of creeping white rose,the kind known as "Five Sisters," threw its delicate fragrance over thislittle oasis in the wilderness of the Moor.
And, almost mechanically, whilst her fancy once more went a-roaming inthe land of dreams, Patience began to hum the quaint old ditty: "Mybeautiful white rose."