‘Dear Miss Bird, – It is scarce twelve hours since I closed my last; yet all is now confusion at Old Hall! This very day must see the end of my visit to this the hitherto honoured home of my ancestors. And when I leave, I shall not be the first to go. For my brothers – such is the incredible truth – are both fled! Did I not express doubts as to their being courageous men? Alas and alas!
But already (as I address myself to one who has so often calmed my childish perturbations) a proper resolution begins to return to me. I can at least review, and perhaps order, the final horrid events which have now taken place; and I can at least endeavour to compose my mind before the dread probability that there has been a dire termination to the affair!
I resume, then, the broken thread of my narrative. It was indeed Sir James Dangerfield who had presented himself. There were several more arrivals, within the hour, and by dusk the supper-party was formed. My sister and I were, of course, resolved to hold ourselves invisible. But presently, as we sat together in the small drawing-room, we were entertained to an unexpected glimpse of the company. It must have been resolved that at a very early stage of the proposed convivialities there should be a solemn inspection of these exhibits upon which Sir James was to adjudicate; and to this end a procession formed, and passed along the terrace within our view. Sir James himself walked in front, with my brothers on either side of him; and it was patent that he took more satisfaction on the occasion than they did. A brief glance told me that Edward was both uneasy and sullen; no doubt he had received Mr Kent’s disturbing news – and was moreover in a continued displeasure that the wager should go forward at all, with its consequence of announcing to a large circle the potential accession of great wealth to Old Hall. Joscelyn for his part was silent and absorbed. Indeed, I almost persuaded myself that he was grown wasted and haggard, like a man consumed by fever. My note, it was to be supposed, had contributed to his unease.
This distressing spectacle was with us only for a moment, and then the company disappeared round the corner of the terrace. They must have spent some twenty minutes in the coach-house. After that interval, we heard distant voices, and conjectured that they were moving on to the Temple of Diana. I do not think my sister at all fully understood what was going forward. It was my own endeavour to remove my mind from any contemplation of it. There was no reason alas! – to suppose that much regard for decency would attend the next of the necessary preliminaries to a settling of the wager.
They were all back in the Hall more quickly than I should have expected; and from the dining-room there soon began to issue the common hubbub of gentlemen at their wine. It would have been reasonable that both my sister and I should now retire for the night. But we doubted whether sleep would be easy to gain amid a clamour which only a bachelor establishment could have excused; and wakefulness seemed less insupportable in each other’s company than alone. It thus came about that we continued to sit together until near midnight. Sometimes the gentlemen entertained themselves with loud conversation, and sometimes with song. Once or twice we thought we detected high words, or even the beginnings of a brawl; and frequently, of course, there were shouted oaths, the crash or tinkle of breaking glass, and those view-halloos, tally-hos, gone-aways, and come-up-my-beauties by which the guests on such occasions endeavour to persuade themselves that they are about the most blissful of all human activities. There were, indeed, rare intervals of quiet, during which it might be possible to imagine the going forward of reasoned speech or serious debate. But on the whole it appeared a festivity conducting itself quite after the common fashion.
It was already after midnight when I thought I twice heard the peal of a bell. Whether servants were yet in attendance I knew not; it was very possible that they had been dismissed – although, if so, they were like to be shouted from their beds later to carry one or another of the guests to his carriage. The second peal had been peremptory, as if some belated boon-companion of my brother’s were clamouring for admission at the closed front-door of the Hall. I was certainly not minded myself to act as porter to such a one; and a moment later the circumstance was erased from my mind by a fresh, and altogether disagreeable (indeed alarming) turn to the events of the night. The drawing-room doors burst open, and the greater part of the gentlemen tumbled in on us.
It was an act, assuredly, of high impropriety; and I was glad to find even the complacent Lady Jory instantly sensible of the fact. She rose at once, and I saw her glance seeking for her husband in the crush; it was plain that she was going to make a peremptory request that he and his friends withdraw. But before my sister could speak, Sir James Dangerfield advanced, raised both arms for a silence which was instantly accorded him, and commenced a speech with drunken solemnity. Witnesses, he said, were wanted – sober witnesses, whose subsequent testimony could be relied on. It was for this reason that he and his friends had ventured, even at this late hour, to pay their respects to the ladies. A bargain – an unexpected bargain – had been struck between their host and his truly amiable and gallant brother. As to the wager, it could be taken no further. Sir James professed himself unable to come to a determination on that point, and the brothers had shaken hands and agreed that it be void. Instead, there was this bargain; to wit, that there be an irrevocable exchange. What had been Joscelyn’s was now Edward’s and what had been Edward’s was now Joscelyn’s – this vastly to the content of either party. He, Sir James, did not profess to determine which of the Jorys came the winner from that market. He had no skill in what Joscelyn had brought home – and very little in what Edward had brought home, either. (Need I add, my dear Miss Bird, that at this sally all the gentlemen laughed uproariously?) But this he would say: that the exchange was boundlessly to the credit of each, as a sportsman and a gentleman. Here was the sort of conduct that showed the English country interest sound as a bell – and let any Whig dog there deny it! (Here, naturally, the applause redoubled itself.)
To all this nonsense – indisputably the vain and empty product, I supposed, of hopeless inebriety – I had paid small attention, so far; for it was rather my concern to determine whether some of the gentlemen were so flown in wine that my sister and I might possibly be at the hazard of absolute insult. But now there was a disquieting development. My brothers were summoned by Sir James each in turn to advance and solemnly endorse the exchange that had been announced. Edward did so first, and I saw, with mortification but without surprise, that he was sadly intoxicated. He made the statement required of him. It then became Joscelyn’s turn – and he at once stepped forward and solemnly declared himself in the same sense. But, whereas Edward had been as drunk as a lord, Joscelyn was as sober as a judge! I was horrified – for only liquor, surely, could excuse any man’s engagement in all this low levity and open wickedness. Joscelyn, indeed, was not himself; he had the appearance of one at once alarmed and resolute; he spoke in the same high, strained voice that he had used at table earlier in the day.
It seemed now to be agreed that the bargain had been ratified in high legal form, with Lady Jory and myself the court that had registered it. Some of the gentlemen began to bring in bottles, swearing that we should drink a toast to the amity of the brothers. Others, slightly recollected, endeavoured to restrain their companions from this crowning impertinence. Several sang senselessly in chorus. And one fell to shouting that they should now fetch in the other brace of ladies. I realized with contempt and loathing that he meant thus to designate Edward’s (now Joscelyn’s) hapless Paphian girl, and Joscelyn’s (now Edward’s) mummy (if that be the word for it) so sacrilegiously haled across Europe from the Caucasus. And at this some blackguard at the back, thinking to gain the credit of overgoing all in outrageous jesting, cried out, Yes, and let the four of them play a rubber together. There was a moment’s silence, followed by a blow, a crash, and an ugly curse – the last speaker having been felled instantly to the floor by one of the party whose breeding had not wholly deserted him. Upon this there might have succeeded a general mêlée, had a surprising diversion not at the very moment occurred. Once more the house bell pealed – and was this time accompanied by such a thunderous knocking that all were startled into a sudden silence. And upon this, again, no more than a questioning murmur had succeeded when a frightened man-servant ran into the room, looked wildly round for his master, and in a trembling voice announced, His Grace the Duke of Nesfield.
I had not recovered from my own astonishment before I was aware that the Duke was among us, and bowing with his customary polite ease over the hand of Lady Jory. He did the same by myself – and I observed that he by no means forgot that additional shade of cordiality and respect so agreeable to an inconsiderable female of the family. He then turned to face the gentlemen. They stood dumbly at gaze before him. Neither Sir James Dangerfield nor any of the others thought (I remarked) to call into notice that here was the largest Whig dog in the country come to bark at them.
Joscelyn’s sobriety now stood him in a moment’s good stead. He said a word to the servant, and with great dispatch a glass of wine was offered to the Duke on a salver. He took a quick sip and then thrust it impatiently aside – but a civility had been offered and accepted. I breathed a shade more easily for the credit of our house!
It now became clear to most of the company – a little disintoxicated as they were by the appearance among them of so august a personage – that the Duke’s presenting himself at an hour so late had some motive other than courtesy. They therefore withdrew in tolerable order to the dining-room from which they had so unbecomingly issued in the first instance, leaving the Jorys as a family to discharge whatever business should be proposed to them. I judged, however, from certain snatches of talk that I caught from the retreating gentlemen, that they were not without a shrewd suspicion that the late luckless wager was about to unload some legacy of trouble upon Old Hall.
And of this the Duke presently left us in no doubt. He had sent a message to Edward Jory, he declared; but his errand was now alike to one brother and the other – and it was one he was glad to carry through, even at the cost of this nocturnal exertion, out of old regard and friendship for our family. First, let us know that what he had bade his steward communicate earlier that day had been most seriously intended. There was a new tone at Court, to which Cabinet intended that respect should be paid, and a gentleman flying in the face of decorum might find himself repenting it. He himself had been brought up in other ways, and he had no thought of turning parson now. But he had been constrained thus to present himself out of the certain knowledge, gained only a few hours since, that there were those with the Queen’s commission making post-haste for Old Hall at this moment. Edward had better forthwith disburden himself of that which he wot of, or he might find himself in the county gaol by dawn. What was worse, his name would infallibly go in the new Black Book – with what consequences he could guess at.
At this dire prognostication I saw Edward go pale and tremble! That this same new Black Book is other than a legend – albeit a wholesome one – I am unconvinced. I have met no one that professes to know precisely who keeps it, or where. Nevertheless belief in it has of late gained notable currency among our country gentlemen, and the penalties attending incorporation in its pages appear to be all the more daunting for being decidedly vague. For some time (as I have already remarked) it has been observable that my brother Edward was not easy about his late exploit – and indeed, soberly considered, it has been an act of wild profligacy to which it is to be suspected that his friend Mr Kent had urged him against a certain caution and timidity which (despite his sadly unprincipled course of life) is indubitably inherent in his character. And now I could discern a cold sweat on Edward’s brow! He muttered that the Duke’s advice was kindly taken; that all these fools had best be sent packing ere the night was an hour older; and that he would reserve but Kent and one other, to help him do that which must be done.
I was relieved by this speech of Edward’s, although I could not, indeed, admire it. It was rational, but it was scarcely spirited. Against all my better judgement, I would fain have heard something more befitting – if not the friend of corsairs and pirates – at least a Jory of Old Hall! And a like mingling of relief and humiliation now awaited me. Joscelyn in his turn became the subject of the Duke’s serious admonition, and he too was left in little doubt that the new Black Book yawned for him (if books, indeed, may be said to yawn as well as to occasion yawning). It seemed to me that of my two brothers the Duke of Nesfield preferred the younger. There was something dry in his manner as he remarked that, in the common judgement, there would be some distinction made between one who was led into irregular courses by beauty, and one who was led into these same courses by gems and gold. This was very fine. And yet (my dear Miss Bird) I could not altogether approve it. The distinction was unjust to Joscelyn, who had certainly possessed himself of his Caucasian treasure not for its intrinsic value, but because of its mortuary interest. Moreover I recalled, that, before this Court disfavour and the like was threatening, the Duke himself was known to have spoken of the whole wretched affair in terms of the most tolerant amusement!
However this might be, there was no doubt that for Joscelyn too the Duke had the most alarming intelligence. I was myself, as you know, a little prepared for it, on the score of what I had learned from young Tom Grindell. But the Duke had further news – and such as one might have expected to hear from the melodramatists of Drury Lane rather than from a great English nobleman! Being concerned by what he had heard of the ill odour into which Edward’s freak was leading him, he had caused discreet inquiries to be made elsewhere. And Joscelyn’s pillage, he found, was strongly conjectured, although perhaps not positively known in a quarter which, although exalted, was accustomed to the exercise of absolute power, and took small account of law. Moreover the theft that had been perpetrated was like to be regarded, in that same circle, less as a misdemeanour than an insult; and the punishment visited upon it might well be arbitary, violent, and much in disregard of the Queen’s peace. It would be, perhaps, the black eye first, and the Black Book thereafter!
It was at this point that I began – and that with some indignation – to smoke the Duke of Nesfield. His concern for us was perhaps genuine, and his proposals rational. But – incurably – he was a jester, and it was now his amusement to appal and dismay his foolish neighbours! That confidential inquiries were already being made after the treasure I believed to be true; that the accredited agents of a friendly Power, even if not of the most civilized, would venture to offer personal violence to an English Baronet, I judged absolutely not possible. But Joscelyn (I am ashamed to say) appeared otherwise persuaded; something of Edward’s unworthy panic appeared to be communicated to him; although sober, he was not collected; and a judgement which bad conscience rendered infirm, excessive trepidation now quite overthrew! He began to cry out in ignoble agitation, and to no reasonable purpose!
All this, I verily believe, was highly diverting to the Duke of Nesfield. But a nobleman always remembers the proprieties requisite in the society of ladies. Now, glancing at Lady Jory and myself, he seemed conscious that at any moment the night’s absurdities might take a turn so extravagant as to be wholly unfit for our notice. And at this he advanced upon my sister with gravity; announced that he now proposed, together with Sir Joscelyn and Mr Edward, to join once more the gentlemen in the other room; and expressed his wish that Lady Jory’s high sense of the duties of hospitality should not longer detain her, or her charming sister, from repose.
On this sufficient hint, we bade the Duke goodnight, and he bowed himself from the drawing-room, taking my brothers with him. It was now necessary that I should endeavour to calm Lady Jory, whose distress at his Grace’s alarming communications was not lessened by the fact of her making very little of them. For this purpose I sat down beside her, and it thus happened that we remained for a little time, downstairs and together, before finally parting for the night. I said what I could, and without great effort as to the choice of words. On such occasions, after all, it is the tone and demeanour that are of account.
Meanwhile my ear was less attentive to such remarks (and they were very little to the purpose) as my sister offered than to the sounds yet coming from the dining-room. It was to be supposed that the Duke’s endeavours would be directed to a quiet and expeditious dispersal of the party still gathered there. Once the gentlemen were climbed into their carriages (or tumbled into them) and away, he would then address himself to the task of extricating my brothers as quickly as possible from the impending consequences of their folly.
What I presently heard, however, was peculiar. The whole company appeared to be yet present – and to be now at a violent debate. There were many cries of indignation, and a few of alarm. Gradually the proportions of these changed, and I had the shocked impression of an entire besotted gathering in mounting panic! How could this come about? Were the high personages from Court, or were the unprincipled emissaries of the Czar already present and declaring themselves? I had only to ask myself such questions for the large truth to dawn upon me! I recalled what I had heard from time to time of previous sportive exploits of the Duke of Nesfield. The element of irresponsible levity in his attitude was much larger than I had suspected. He was in fact, subjecting my brothers and their guests to an elaborate and terrifying imposture! It was even conceivable that I had myself been the first of his victims, or butts, in crediting the extraordinary story of Tom Grindell!
My first impulse, when this humiliating perception came to me, was to pass at once into the dining-room and challenge the Duke to give his word that the alarms he had brought among us were authentic. But several circumstances restrained me. Of these the simplest was the fact that my sister, terrified by the clamour now arising, was clinging to my arm. The next was my realization that truth and falsehood were probably inextricably mingled in the affair; and that the Duke’s conduct, although fantastic and reprehensible, was yet directed, like some similar stratagem in a stage comedy, to the mirthful reproving of vice and reforming of manners. And finally, I had to acknowledge that the situation was grown suddenly beyond any hope of my controlling – for the hubbub was now frantic, and included indeed a great crashing of glass, as if some of the more frenetic of the company were blindly escaping out of window. But at least there was one duty that I could perform. I encouraged Lady Jory to rise, conducted her firmly out of the room and to the quietness of the service staircase, by which we then made our way to her own chamber. There her maid, a faithful creature enough, awaited her, so that presently I was blessedly able to withdraw to my own quarters. I was unfeignedly sorry for my sister. Yet in such extraordinary casualties as we were confronted with a stupid woman is but a tiresome companion. So soon as I was alone, I fell to considering what my next course of conduct should be.
There was still noise in the house; and there appeared to be further uproar both in the remoter offices and in the park. Several times I heard what I took to be a hunting-horn (an instrument which gentlemen delight to have recourse to when upon a frolic) but presently determined to be a bugle; and this was soon followed by what could only be a roll of drums! Was it conceivable that the Militia had been called out? It appeared to be much more likely that these loud alarums merely attested the further extravagance of the Duke’s jest.
I felt some commiseration for my brothers, and particularly for Joscelyn, at whom the whole country was likely to be laughing for a twelvemonth. Yet there was nothing that I could do to assist him, since his condition would be all the more humiliating were it to be added to the story that his maiden sister had been running demented about the park, whether fearing for her virtue at the hands of the invader, or endeavouring to recall her craven brothers to some sense of manliness and reason. It would be best, then, that I should remain invisible, until all this career of folly was run through and over. So much had I determined, when I remembered that which instantly called me to an imperative duty. There was the girl! Isolated from her sex in the abominable Temple of Diana, utterly bewildered (one might be sure) by the pandemonium now unloosed around her, was the unfortunate creature whom the caprice (and, it was to be feared, vice) of Edward had lured so far from the security of her home. It was intolerable that – even for the making of a ducal holiday – this hapless young person should be exposed, unattended, to such terrors. I caught up my cloak and passed rapidly downstairs.
Once in the open air, my route took me past the stables; and there I beheld an extraordinary scene. Outside the coach-house, and by the light of several uncertainly waving lanterns, a small group of gentlemen, still very drunk, were endeavouring to harness a pair of our carriage-horses to some species of cart or wagon. Others, it seemed, were hammering and banging within; and I could just detect through the din the voice of my brother Joscelyn urging his friends to a better speed. The Caucasian treasure, I supposed, was to be hurried away from Old Hall. But to this it appeared that there would be opposition – and that of the most bizarre kind. From somewhere not far off in the park there came a sound of trampling feet, and of commands shouted in a sort of gibberish which might, to persons who had lost all command of themselves, have passed as a foreign tongue! I was much disgusted, alike by this further evidence of the tasteless elaboration of the Duke’s jest, and by the wretched imbecility to which it had reduced my brother and his companions. But now the uproar, combined with the incompetence of the gentlemen at their task, had a further effect. First one, and then instantly the other, horse broke free and disappeared at a terrified gallop into the darkness. Ineffective curses and cries of dismay followed them. I tarried no longer. Snatching up from the ground an abandoned lantern that was yet alight, I made my way rapidly to the Temple.
Quite suddenly, and so that they barred my way, I found myself in the presence of three men – outlandishly dressed, and with ludicrous beards such as one might employ in a charade! I was in no mood to be again one of the duped or gulled, and I ordered them sternly to stand back. They hesitated. I added that it was to be presumed no part of their master’s frolic to affront one of the ladies of Old Hall. And at this they made me a sort of sheepish bow and moved aside. Another hundred yards and the Temple was before me. I had expected to find it perhaps yet deserted, and disturbed only by the general uproar pervading the air of our demesne. But here too there was a confusedly animated spectacle! Setting down my lantern, I moved into the shadow of a tree in order to take my bearings as I might.
At the door a further group of the mummers (as they must be called) was pounding with their fists, and at the same time crying for admittance (one supposed) in the same sort of ridiculous gibberish I had already heard. Even as I looked, the round window in the pediment above them opened, and I could see my brother Edward peering down with a pale and frightened face. He seemed then to call out directions to friends behind him; one of the mummers looked up and shouted; Edward hastily drew back his head and clapped the window to. At the same moment I thought I heard, from the back of the building, the creak of some light vehicle being moved softly over grass. You may remember that immediately behind the Temple the ground drops sharply to a narrow, concealed lane, and that upon this there look out several windows, modern in form, belonging to the upper living-rooms in this spuriously antique structure. It seemed to me likely that Edward and his companions – all as fuddled and bemused as himself – were proposing to make their escape through one of these. And no doubt the wretched girl would be obliged to accompany them.
So far, my resolution had not notably failed me; but I was now conscious of a nervous agitation possessing me to an ominous degree! Determined to master this if I could, I moved forward, skirting the side of the Temple, until I found myself at its farther end and leaning over the low stone parapet which there gives protection against the sharp declivity ending in the lane which I have just mentioned. I had neglected to resume possession of my lantern, and all was shadowy and obscure around me. Glancing sideways along the back of the building, I caught a gleam of candlelight at a window, and had the impression of a sash cautiously raised. I peered down into the darkness below. There was certainly a conveyance in the lane, but I was totally unable to determine its character. Then I heard whispers; a second sash had been thrown up; the candlelight, however, had disappeared, as if those within were persuaded that their safety called for absolute darkness. I could only listen. And presently I heard Edward’s voice, slurred but distinguishable, declare that they must trust her, by G—d, to the ropes. Instantly I guessed what was afoot – and I endeavoured (although it would have been of small avail) to cry out against this criminal folly. But no sound would come from my throat; my limbs trembled; a sensation of horrid vertigo overcame me!
For some moments (apart from the pounding and shouting that was yet going on at the front) there was no sound except further unintelligible whispers and heavy breathing, intermingled with here and there a smothered curse. Then I heard my brother call to lower away, for the b—ch was secure. I opened my eyes (which without my own awareness I must have closed in an effort to fight off my giddiness) and saw with horror a faint white blur descending through the darkness from the farthest window. It was unmistakably a woman’s form, with arms held out as if in protection against the rough stone down the face of which she was being lowered. But, even as I looked, it vanished! There was a crash, a cry, and then my brother’s voice raised briefly in a single abominable imprecation. I looked below, and supposed for a second that the world was spinning round me. Then I saw that what I faintly discerned was a wheel slowly turning in air. The vehicle below had been overset in the course of the appalling accident I had just witnessed. I glanced beyond and saw the glimmer of a pale figure, prostrate on the lane. My spirits could sustain no more. For what must have been a matter of some minutes, I fainted away!
Voices recalled me to myself – although not, it was to prove, for long. They came from below, and I realized that Edward and his companions had themselves, by one means or another, gained the lane. They were speaking now in hoarse undertones, and (I thought) upon a new note of terror. I distinguished the tones of Mr Kent, declaring that she had come down on the cart, and that bottom upwards; an unknown voice rejoining angrily that it was no occasion for jesting; and then Edward crying out suddenly that by G—d, he would be hanged. At this a deadly premonition came upon me; horror could no further go; it was without further access of emotion that I next heard Mr Kent call out roughly that there was nothing for it but to get her under ground.
‘Dear Miss Bird – does it surprise you that I knew no more? This time my state of insensibility, moreover, must have been of longer duration. When I came to, there was no further sound from the lane beneath. And I was not alone. Bending over me was none other than the Duke of Nesfield himself! I was assisted to rise; the Duke offered me a brandy-flask, from which I was glad to sip; he then handed me into a carriage which had been summoned, and himself accompanied me back to the Hall. He was very subdued, saying only that it had been something too much; that he hoped my brothers would get off to bed and forget their discomfiture; and that he would do his best to ensure that the bruit of the matter got very little about the country. I made him only the briefest replies, and finally bade him goodnight with the utmost reserve. He no doubt judges me offended, as I am very willing that he should do. But shock and horror were the actual occasion of my reticence!
I went immediately to my room, and for I know not how long lay, without undressing, on my bed. There was still some stir about the house, but it quickly died away. I fell into a light slumber, from which I was awakened by a sound of galloping hooves. It was not yet dawn, but at once I rose, unaccountably filled with a fresh access of uneasiness. I resolved to seek out Joscelyn, were he to be found, and attempt with him the sort of serious conference that his, and Edward’s, situation seemed to demand. Taking a candle, therefore, I made my way to his private apartments. There was a light in a dressing-room; I knocked, entered, and found only his personal servant, himself but half-dressed, composedly ordering the tumbled contents of a number of open drawers. I asked, where was his master? He answered me, impassively yet with a strange look, that Sir Joscelyn was ridden away, he believed to port and the packet-boat. I was much staggered, and inquired after Edward. Mr Jory, the man replied (now with the ghost of a grin), was also departed – he believed on foot and with Mr Kent, there having been a misfortune with the only horses available.
Such, then, is the fallen condition of this house! Both my brothers exposed, ridiculed, and ignominiously fled; and a young life, I too strongly fear, lost as the price of the younger’s folly! My poor sister is wholly bewildered; and it is my intention to take her, this very afternoon, to her brother’s in Yorkshire. She will be kindly received there, until our unfortunate situation is better understood, and if possible to some extent retrieved. I shall write no more at present. But you may be assured, dear Miss Bird, that I shall continue our correspondence, commonly so pleasing; and that, even in periods of such perturbation as this, you shall not fail at least of the fugitive and hurried confidences of your old pupil and devoted friend,
SOPHIA JORY.’