Текст книги "Frenchman's Creek"

Автор книги: Daphne du Maurier

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER XXII

When Dona came to Gweek she made straight for a little cottage almost buried in the woods, a hundred yards or so from the road, and which she knew instinctively to be the place she sought. Passing there once before she had seen a woman at the doorway, young and pretty, and William, driving the carriage, had saluted her with his whip.

"There have been ugly rumours," Godolphin had said, "of young women in distress," and Dona smiled to herself, thinking of the girl's blush as she remembered it, and William's expression, his gallant bow, little guessing that his mistress had observed him.

The cottage appeared deserted, and Dona, dismounting, and knocking on the door, wondered for one moment if she had been mistaken after all. Then she heard a movement from the scrap of garden at the back, and she caught the glimpse of a petticoat disappearing into a door, and that door suddenly shutting, and the bolt being drawn. She knocked gently, and getting no answer called, "Don't be afraid. It is Lady St. Columb from Navron."

In a minute or two the bolt was pulled back, and the door was opened, and on the threshold stood William himself, with the flushed face of the young woman peering behind his shoulder.

"My lady," he said, staring at her, with his button mouth twisted. She feared for one moment he was going to break down and cry. Then he stiffened, and held the door open wide. "Run upstairs, Grace," he said to the girl, "her ladyship wishes to speak to me alone."

The girl obeyed him, and Dona preceded William into the little kitchen, and sat down by the low hearth, and looked at him.

He still wore his right arm in a sling, and his head was bandaged, but he was the same William, standing before her as though he awaited her instructions for the ordering of supper.

"Prue gave me your message, William," she said, and because he stood there so stiffly, without expression, she smiled at him with understanding. He said humbly, his eyes downcast, "My lady, what can I say to you? I would have died for you that night, and instead I proved false, and lay like a sick child on the floor of the nursery."

"You could not help it," she said. "You were weak and faint from loss of blood, and your prisoner proved too swift and cunning for you. But I have not come to talk about that, William."

For a moment his eyes entreated her, but she shook her head. "No questions," she said, "for I know what you would ask me. I am well, and strong, and quite unhurt, and what happened that night does not concern you. It is all over and put aside. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lady, since you insist."

"Sir Harry and Prue and the children left Navron just after noon today. The only thing that matters now is that we help your master. You know what happened?"

"I know, my lady, that the ship was lucky enough to escape with the crew safe aboard, but that my master lies a prisoner in the care of Lord Godolphin."

"And time is short, William, for his lordship and the others may take the law into their own hands, and do what they would do to him – before the escort comes from Bristol. We may have a few hours only, and therefore we must work tonight."

She made him sit down on the stool beside the hearth, and she showed the pistol she had secreted in her habit, and the knife as well. "The pistol is loaded," she said, "and when I leave you now, I shall proceed to his lordship's, and somehow gain admittance to the keep. It should not prove difficult, for his lordship is a fool."

"And then, my lady?" he asked.

"And then I shall assume that your master already has a plan prepared, and we will act upon it. He will realise the desperate importance of time, and may wish us to have horses waiting, at an hour to be decided upon."

"That should not prove impossible, my lady. There are ways and means of procuring horses."

"I can believe it, William."

"The young woman who is giving me hospitality…"

"A very charming young woman, William."

"Your ladyship is gracious. The young woman who is giving me hospitality may prove helpful over the matter of horses. You can safely leave the matter in my hands."

"And the young woman, also, as I did, Prue, when I went away with your master."

"My lady, I declare to you most solemnly that I never touched a hair of Prue's head."

"Probably not, William, we will not discuss it. Very well, then. The first move in the game is understood. I shall return here, after my visit to Lord Godolphin, and tell you what has been arranged."

"Very good, my lady."

He opened the door for her, and she stood a moment, smiling at him, before she passed into the little overgrown garden.

"We are not going to fail, William," she said. "In three days' time, or less than that perhaps, you will see the cliffs of Brittany. It will please you, will it not, to smell France again?",

And he would have asked her a question, but she walked swiftly down the path, and to her horse, tethered to the bough of a tree. Now that she was employed, and action was demanded of her, she felt resolute and strong, and the strange wistfulness that had come upon her as she stood alone in the garden at Navron had gone with the moment that brought it. All that belonged to the past. She rode swiftly, the sturdy cob striding out well along the muddy lane, and soon she came to the park gates of Godolphin's estate, and in the distance she saw the grey outline of his house, and the squat tower and strong walls of the keep that formed part of the mansion. There was one narrow slit in the tower, midway between the battlement and the ground, and as she passed beneath it her heart beat strongly, with sudden excitement: that must be his prison, and he might have heard the sound of her horse and, climbing to the slit, be looking down upon her.

A servant ran forward to take her horse, glancing at her in surprise, and wondering, she thought, what the Lady St. Columb of Navron could be doing in the heat of the afternoon upon a rough country cob, alone, and unattended by husband or by groom.

She passed into the long hall, enquiring whether his lordship would see her, and while she waited she looked out of the long windows on to the park, and she saw, roped apart from its fellows in the centre of the grass, a tall tree, far taller than its fellows, and there was a man upon one of the wide branches, working with a saw, calling down to a little group of men beneath.

She turned away, feeling cold suddenly, a little sick, and then she heard a footstep coming across the hall, and Lord Godolphin advanced towards her, his usual composure somewhat ruffled. "My very humble apologies, madam," he said, kissing her hand, "I fear I kept you waiting, the truth is that your visit is somewhat inopportune – we are all rather concerned – the fact of the matter is that my wife is in labour, and we await the physician."

"My dear Lord Godolphin, you must forgive me," said Dona, "and had I known I would never have disturbed you. But I bring messages from Harry, you see, and his apologies. Something in London necessitated his immediate return, he left at noon today with the children, and…"

"Harry left for town?" he said, in astonishment, "but it was all arranged that he should come tomorrow. Half the countryside will be gathered here for the occasion. The men are preparing the tree, as you can see. Harry was most insistent that he must see the Frenchman hang."

"He asked most humbly for your forgiveness," she said, "but the matter was really pressing. His Majesty himself, I believe, is concerned in it."

"Oh, well, naturally madam, under such circumstances, I understand. But it is a pity, a very great pity. The occasion is so unusual, and such a triumph. And as things are turning out, it looks as though we may celebrate something else at the same time." He coughed, bridling with self-esteem and importance, and then, as the sound of carriage wheels came to their ears, he looked away from her, towards the door. "This will be the physician," he said quickly, "you will, I am sure, excuse me a moment."

"But of course, Lord Godolphin," she smiled, and turning away, wandered into the small salon and stood thinking rapidly, while from the hall she heard voices, and murmurs, and heavy footsteps, and "He is so agitated," she thought, "that if we seized his wig again, he could not notice it."

The footsteps and the voices disappeared up the broad staircase, and Dona, looking from the window, saw that there were no guards outside the keep, or in the avenue; they must be within the keep itself. After five minutes Godolphin returned, looking if possible more flushed and concerned than before.

"The physician is with her ladyship now," he said, "but he seems to think nothing is likely to occur until late this evening. It seems rather remarkable, I had no idea, indeed I considered that any minute…"

"Wait," she said, "until you have been a father a dozen times, and then perhaps you will understand that babies are leisurely creatures, and like to linger over this business of entering the world. Dear Lord Godolphin, I wish I could distract you. I'm sure your wife is in no danger at all. Is that where the Frenchman is imprisoned?"

"Yes, madam, and spends his time, so his jailers tell me, in drawing birds upon a sheet of paper. The fellow is mad, of course."

"Of course."

"Congratulations are pouring in upon me from all over the county. I flatter myself that I have earned them. It was I, you know, who disarmed the scoundrel."

"How courageous of you."

"It is true he gave his sword into my hands, but nevertheless it was to me he gave it."

"I shall make a great story of it at Court, Lord Godolphin, when I am next at St. James's. His Majesty will be very impressed with your handling of the whole affair. You were the genius of it all."

"Ah, you flatter me, madam."

"No, indeed. Harry would agree with me, I know. I wish I had some souvenir of the Frenchman to show His Majesty. Do you think, as he is a draughtsman, he would give me one of his drawings?"

"The easiest thing in the world. They are scattered all over his cell."

"I have forgotten so much, heaven be praised, of that fearful night," sighed Dona, "that I cannot now recollect his appearance, except that he was extremely large and black and fierce, and appallingly ugly." _

"You are somewhat at fault, madam, I should not describe him so. He is not so large a man as myself, for instance, and like all Frenchmen, has a sly rather than an ugly face."

"What a pity it is that I cannot see him, and so give a strictly accurate description of him to His Majesty."

"You will not come then tomorrow?"

"Alas, no. I go to rejoin Harry and the children."

"I suppose," said Lord Godolphin, "that I could permit you a glimpse of the rascal in his cell. But I understood from Harry that after the tragedy the other night you could scarcely abide to speak of the fellow – that he had so terrified you in short, that…"

"Today, Lord Godolphin, is so different from the other night. I have you to protect me, and the Frenchman is unarmed. I would like to paint a picture to His Majesty of the notorious pirate, caught and put to death by the most faithful of his Cornish subjects."

"Then you shall, madam, you shall. When I think what you might have endured at his hands, I would willingly hang him three times over. I believe it was the excitement and alarm of the whole affair that precipitated her ladyship's confinement."

"Most probably," said Dona gravely, and seeing that he still would talk of the matter, and might even yet plunge into domestic details which she understood more thoroughly than he did himself, she added, "Let us go now, then, while the physician is with your wife." Before he could protest, she walked out of the salon to the hall, and so to the steps before the house, and he was forced to accompany her, glancing up at the windows of the house as he did so.

"My poor Lucy," he said, "if only I could have spared her this ordeal."

"You should have thought of that nine months ago, my lord," she answered, and he stared at her, greatly embarrassed and shocked, and murmured something about having hoped for years for a son and heir.

"Which I am sure she will give you," smiled Dona, "even if you have ten daughters first." And here they were at the keep, standing in the small stone entrance, where two men were standing, armed with muskets, and another was seated on a bench before a table. "I have promised Lady St. Columb a glance at our prisoner," said Godolphin, and the man at the table looked up and grinned.

"He won't be fit for a lady to see this time tomorrow my lord," he said, and Godolphin laughed loudly. "No, that is why her ladyship has come today." The guard led the way up the narrow stone stairway, taking a key from his chain, and "There is no other door," thought Dona, "no other stair. And the men below there, always on guard." The key turned in the lock, and once again her heart began to beat, foolishly, ridiculously, as it always did whenever she was about to look on him. The jailer threw open the door, and she stepped inside, with Godolphin behind her, and then the jailer withdrew, locking the door upon them. He was sitting at a table, as he had done the first time she had seen him, and on his face was the same absorbed expression that he had worn then, intent upon his occupation, thinking of nothing else, so that Godolphin, put out of countenance by his prisoner's indifference, thumped his hand on the table and said sharply, "Stand up, can't you, when I choose to visit you?"

The indifference was no play, as Dona knew, for so intent was the Frenchman upon his drawing, that he had not known the footstep of Godolphin from the jailer. He pushed the drawing aside – it was a curlew, Dona saw, flying across an estuary towards the open sea – and then for the first time he saw her, and making no sign of recognition, he stood up, and bowed, and said nothing.

"This is Lady St. Columb," said Godolphin stiffly, "who, disappointed that she cannot see you hanged tomorrow, wishes to take one of your drawings back to town with her, so that His Majesty may have a souvenir of one of the biggest blackguards that ever troubled his faithful subjects."

"Lady St. Columb is very welcome," said the prisoner. "Having had little else to do during the last few days, I can offer her a fair selection. What is your favourite bird, madam?"

"That," answered Dona, "is something I can never decide. Sometimes I think it is a night-jar."

"I regret I cannot offer you a night-jar," he said, rummaging amongst the papers on the table. "You see, when I last heard one, I was so intent upon another occupation that I did not observe the night-jar as clearly as I might have done."

"You mean," said Godolphin sternly, "that you were so intent upon robbing one of my friends of his possessions for your personal gratification that you gave no thought to any other distraction."

"My lord," bowed the captain of La Mouette, "I have never before heard the occupation in question so delicately described."

Dona turned over the drawings on the table. "Here is a herring gull," she said, "but I think you have not given him his full plumage."

"The drawing is unfinished, madam," he replied, "this particular sea-gull dropped one of its feathers in flight. If you know anything about the species you will remember, however, that they seldom venture far to sea. This particular gull, for instance, is probably only ten miles from the coast at the present moment."

"No doubt," said Dona, "and then tonight he will return again to the shore, in search of the feather he has lost."

"Your ladyship knows little of ornithology," said Godolphin. "For my part I have never heard of a seagull or any other bird picking up feathers."

"I had a feather mattress as a child," said Dona, talking rather quickly, and smiling at Godolphin, "and I remember the feathers became loose after a while, and one of them fluttered from the window of my bedroom and fell into the garden below. Of course the window was a large one, not like the slit that gives light to this cell."

"Oh, of course," answered his lordship, a little puzzled, and he glanced at her doubtfully, wondering if she still had a touch of fever, for surely she sounded a little light in the head.

"Did they ever blow under the door?" enquired the prisoner.

"Ah, that I can't remember," said Dona, "I think that even a feather would have difficulty in passing beneath a door… unless of course it was given assistance, like a strong breath of air, you know, say the draught from a barrel of a pistol. But I have not chosen my drawing. Here is a sanderling, I wonder if this would please His Majesty. My lord, do I hear wheels upon the drive? If so, it must be that the physician is departing."

Lord Godolphin clicked his tongue in annoyance, and looked towards the door. "He surely would not leave without consulting me first," he said, "are you certain you hear wheels? I am a little deaf."

"I could not be more certain in the world," answered Dona.

His lordship strode to the door, and thumped upon it.

"Ho, there," he called, "unlock the door, will you, immediately?" "

The jailer called in answer, and they could hear his footstep mount the narrow stair. In a moment Dona had passed the pistol and the knife from her ridinghabit onto the table, and the prisoner had seized them from her, and covered them with a mass of his drawings. The jailer unlocked the door, and Godolphin turned, and looked at Dona.

"Well, madam," he said, "have you chosen your drawing?"

Dona fluttered the drawings in distraction, wrinkling her brow.

"It is really most monstrously difficult," she said. "I cannot decide between the sea-gull and the sanderling. Do not wait for me, my lord, you must know by this time that a woman can never make up her mind. I will follow you in a moment or two."

"It is really imperative that I see the physician," said Godolphin, "so that if you will excuse me, madam. You remain here with her ladyship," he added to the guard, as he left the cell.

Once again the guard closed the door, and this time stood against it, his arms folded and he smiled across at Dona with understanding.

"We shall have two celebrations tomorrow, my lady," he said.

"Yes," she said, "I hope for your sake that it proves to be a boy. There will be more ale for all of you."

"Am I not the only cause for excitement?" asked the prisoner.

The guard laughed, and jerked his head towards the slit in the cell.

"You'll be forgotten by midday," he said, "you'll be dangling from the tree, while the rest of us drink to the future Lord Godolphin."

"It seems rather hard that neither the prisoner nor myself will be here to drink the health of the son and heir," smiled Dona, and she drew her purse from her pocket, and threw it to the jailer. "I wager," she said, "that you would rather do so now, than keeping watch below, hour after hour. Supposing we drink now, the three of us, while his lordship is with the physician?"

The jailer grinned, and winked at his prisoner.

"If we do, it won't be the first time I've drunk ale before an execution," he said. "But I will say one thing, and that is that I've never seen a Frenchman hang yet. They tell me they die quicker than what we do. The bones in their neck are more brittle," and winking again, he unlocked the door, and called down to his assistant.

"Bring three glasses, and a jug of ale." While his back was turned Dona questioned the prisoner with her eyes, and his lips moved soundlessly. "Tonight at eleven."

She nodded, and whispered, "William and I."

The jailer looked over his shoulder. "If his lordship catches us there'll be the devil to pay," he said.

"I would absolve you," said Dona, "this is the sort of jest that will please His Majesty when I see him at Court. What is your name?"

"Zachariah Smith, my lady."

"Very well, then, Zachariah, if trouble comes of this, I will plead your case to the King himself."

The jailer laughed, and his assistant coming this moment with the ale, he closed the door, and carried the tray to the table.

"Long life then to your ladyship," he said, "a full purse and a good appetite to myself, and to you, sir, a speedy death."

He poured the ale into the glasses, and Dona, clinking hers against the jailer's said, "Long life, then, to the future Lord Godolphin."

The jailer smacked his lips, and tilted his head.

The prisoner raised his glass and smiled at Dona.

"Should we not also drink to Lady Godolphin, at this moment, I imagine, suffering something of discomfort?"

"And," replied Dona, "to the physician also, who will be rather heated." As she drank, an idea flashed suddenly to her mind, and glancing at the Frenchman, she knew instinctively that the same thought had come to him, for he was looking at her.

"Zachariah Smith, are you a married man?" she said.

The jailer laughed. "Twice married," he said, "and the father of fourteen."

"Then you know what his lordship is enduring at this moment," she smiled, "but with so able a physician as Doctor Williams there is little cause for anxiety. You know the doctor well, I suppose?"

"No, my lady. I come from the north coast. I am not a Helston man."

"Doctor Williams," said Dona dreamily, "is a funny little fellow, with a round solemn face, and a mouth like a button. I have heard it said that he is as good a judge of ale as any man living."

"Then it's a great pity," said the prisoner, laying down his glass, "that he does not drink with us now. Perhaps he will do so later, when his day's work is finished, and he has made a father of Lord Godolphin."

"Which will not be much before midnight, what do you say, Zachariah Smith, and father of fourteen?" asked Dona.

"Midnight is generally the hour, your ladyship," laughed the jailer, "all nine of my boys were born as the clock struck twelve."

"Very well, then," said Dona, "when I see Doctor Williams directly I will tell him that in honour of the occasion, Zachariah Smith, who can boast of more than a baker's dozen, will be pleased to drink a glass of ale with him before he goes on duty for the night."

"Zachariah, you will remember this evening for the rest of your life," said the prisoner.

The jailer replaced the glasses on the tray. "If Lord Godolphin has a son," he said, winking an eye, "there'll be so much rejoicing on the estate that we'll be forgetting to hang you in the morning."

Dona took up the drawing of the sea-gull from the table.

"Well," she said, "I have chosen my drawing. And rather than his lordship should see you with the tray, Zachariah, I will descend with you, and we will leave your prisoner with his pen and his birds. Good-bye, Frenchman, and may you slip away tomorrow as easily as the feather did from my mattress."

The prisoner bowed. "It will all depend," he said, "upon the quantity of ale that my jailer consumes tonight with Doctor Williams."

"He'll have to boast a stout head if he can beat mine," said the jailer, and he unlocked the door, and held it open for her to pass.

"Goodbye, Lady St. Columb," said the prisoner, and she stood for a moment looking at him, realising that the plan they had in mind was more hazardous and more foolhardy than any that he had yet attempted, and that if it should fail there would be no further chance of escape, for tomorrow he would hang from the tree there in the park. Then he smiled, as though in secret, and it seemed to her that his smile was the personification of himself; it was the thing in him that she had first loved, and would always cherish, and it conjured the picture in her mind of La Mouette, and the sun, and the wind upon the sea, and with it too the dark shadows of the creek, the wood fire and the silence. She went out of the cell without looking at him, her head in the air, and her drawing in her hand, and "He will never know," she thought, "at what moment I have loved him best."

She followed the jailer down the narrow stair, her heart heavy, her body suddenly tired with all the weariness of anti-climax. The jailer, grinning at her, put the tray under the steps, and said, "Cold-blooded, isn't he, for a man about to die? They say these Frenchmen have no feelings."

She summoned a smile, and held out her hand. "You are a good fellow, Zachariah," she said, "and may you drink many glasses of ale in the future, and some of them tonight. I won't forget to tell the physician to call upon you. A little man, remember, with a mouth like a button.".

"But a throat like a well," laughed the jailer. "Very good, your ladyship, I will look out for him, and he shall quench his thirst. Not a word to his lordship, though."

"Not a word, Zachariah," said Dona solemnly, and she went out of the dark keep into the sunshine, and there was Godolphin himself coming down the drive to meet her.

"You were wrong, madam," he said, wiping his forehead, "the carriage has not moved, and the physician is still with my wife. He has decided after all that he will remain for the present, as poor Lucy is in some distress. Your ears must have played you false."

"And I sent you back to the house, all to no purpose," said Dona. "So very stupid of me, dear Lord Godolphin, but then women, you know, are very stupid creatures. Here is the picture of a sea-gull. Do you think it will please His Majesty?"

"You are a better judge of his taste than I, madam," said Godolphin, "or so I presume. Well, did you find the pirate as ruthless as you expected?"

"Prison has softened him, my lord, or perhaps it is not prison, but the realisation that in your keeping, escape is impossible. It seemed to me that when he looked at you he knew that he had at last met a better, and a more cunning brain than his own."

"Ah, he gave you that impression, did he? Strange, I have sometimes thought the opposite. But these foreigners are half women, you know. You never know what they are thinking."

"Very true, my lord." They stood before the steps of the house, and there was the physician's carriage, and the servant still holding Dona's cob. "You will take some refreshment, madam, before you go?" enquired Godolphin, and "No," she answered, "no, I have stayed too long as it is, for I have much to do tonight before my journey in the morning. My respects to your wife, when she is in a state to receive them, and I hope that before the evening is out, she will have presented you with a replica of yourself, dear Lord Godolphin."

"That, madam," he said gravely, "is in the hands of the Almighty."

"But very soon," she said, mounting her horse, "in the equally capable hands of the physician. Goodbye." She waved her hand to him, and was gone, striking the cob into a startled canter with her whip, and as she drew rein past the keep and looked up at the slit in the tower she whistled a bar of the song that Pierre Blanc played on his lute, and slowly, like a snow-flake, a feather drifted down in the air towards her, a feather torn from the quill of a pen. She caught it, caring not a whit if Godolphin saw her from the steps of his house, and she waved her hand again, and rode out onto the highroad laughing, with the feather in her hat.