Текст книги "Doctor Syn on the High Seas"

Автор книги: Russell Thorndike

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Chapter 2

Doctor Syn Becomes a Squire of Dames

Sir Henry Pembury received his young clerical visitor in the Great

Hall of the Castle. He apologized for not rising to greet him by

pointing to his right foot, which, heavily bandaged, rested upon a stool

in front of the large armchair in which he sat.

“I must ask your pardon also for having put you to the trouble of

climbing Lympne Hill, but, you see, Doctor Syn, since this mountain of

gout could not go to Mahomet, I had to ask you to come to me instead.

Also the nature of the request I have to put to you makes it more

convenient for you to be here, s o that you may see with your own eyes of

what you are letting yourself in for. But first may I ask you when you

think of journeying back to Oxford?”

“A week today, sir,” replied Doctor Syn.

“And how did you propse to get there?” went on Sir Henry. “By the

stagecoach or private conveyance?”

– 10 -

“By neither, sir,” returned the Doctor. “I ride there on horseback,

and I am glad to say that my good friend Tony Cobtree is to ride with

me.”

“But I understand from Sir Charles that his son had finished with the

University.”

“So he has, sir. More than a year since. He is revisiting the town

on a more romantic mission than book -learning. He is taking a proposal

of marriage to the lady of his affections.”

“That’s capital!” cried the Squire of Lympne heartily, as, without

thinking, he brought his hand crashing down on to his bad leg. That

caused him such excruciating pain that it was some time before he could

continue speaking.

In the meantime Doctor Syn expressed his sympathy by saying that he

was surprised that so young a man as Sir Henry should be plagued with an

old man’s disease.

“Aye,” replied the other, as he slowly recovered. “I’m still just on

the right side of fifty, but I’m running to fat, and refuse to give up

my two bottles of port for the whole faculty of doctors. My tailor

could as easily persuade me to wear an a ill -fitting coat. But to return

to this Oxford business. You may or may not be aware that I undertook

recently a Government mission to Spain. While in Madrid, my wife and I

were lavishly entertained by a wealthy South American family. We

naturally extended to them the hospitality of Lympne Castle if by any

lucky chance they visited England. It has proved, however, a most

unlucky chance that has brought them here. The father died suddenly,

and the mother and daughter are now travelling to deaden their grief.

In short, they have been with us here for the last fortnight. Lady

Pembury is very attached to them both, and wished them to stay

indefinitely, but it so happens that they have to trasact some business

with a gentleman of Oxford concerning a mutal property in Spain, and

since the roads are none too safe for foreign ladies travelling alone, I

wonder now whether you and young Cobtree will undertake to be Squires of

Dames and ride as their escort, since you are also bound for Oxford?”

“For myself, sir, it will be an honour,” replied Doctor Syn, “and I

know I can say the same for Tony.”

Sir Henry leaned forward and whispered. “You will not regret it.

The widow is beautiful, but the daughter is ravishing. The mere fact

that young Cobtree has already given his heart to a girl in Oxford will

give you a clear field with the young beauty.”

Doctor Syn smiled. “I had no idea you were a matchmaker, sir.”

Sir Henry winked. “You wait till you see her, my lad,” he laughed.

But then his face went grave and he shook his head. “Ah, no, of course

not. I had forgotten your cloth.”

“There is nothing against a parson marrying, sir,” said Syn.

“Like enough,” returned the other, “but everything against an English

parson wedding a Spanish Catholic, I should say.”

“Well, that question need hardly trouble us, sir,” smiled the Doctor,

“for I have not yet seen the lady, much less fallen in love with her,

and even though I did, ‘tis ten to one that the lady might not fall in

love with me.”

“I think there is no need for you to mortify yourself,” said the

Squire. “You seem to me to be a young gentleman who will always get

what he wants in this world.”

“I hope you are a true prophet, upon my soul, sir,” replied

Syn. As he looked up the door opened and she was standing

there, like a fresh painting set in the old oak paneling. The

young scholar gasped in wonder, and slowly rose to his feet. He

knew that he was gazing at

– 11 -

what he wanted more than all the world.

She was dressed simply in the black mourning for her father, with a

priceless mantilla crowned high and falling in cascades of lacy folds.

The only aloofness of the young scholar is his black riding dress had

arrested her in the same bewildered astonishment. They forgot the

presence of Sir Henry, who, secretly amused, was the first to break the

spell.

“Senorita, “he called, “let me present to you my good young friend

Christopher Syn, a learned Doctor of Oxford. Doctor Syn, this is Miss

Imogene Almago, of whom we were but now talking.”

The Doctor was the first to move. He crossed the room with long,

easy strides. The girl watched his approach, and smiled when he bent

over her hand and raised it gently to his lips.

“I should add to my introduction,” went on Sir Henry, “that this

gentleman is to be your escort when you leave our county for

Oxfordshire.”

“I am greatly honoured,” said Doctor Syn in a voice that was low, yet

clear and caressing.

“Bring the senorita to a chair over here,” said Sir Henry. “And I

shall delight in seeing you two the better acquainted.”

Then Doctor Syn heard Imogene speak for the first time, in a voice

mellow with the richness of the South. Her English was perhaps slow and

a trifle stilted, but King’s English for all that.

“I was sent by Her Ladyship to ask you, Sir Henry, whether there was

aught you needed before we take our usual walk round the improvements on

the Castle grounds. They await me with the flower baskets upon the

terrace, where the peacocks walk.”

“Then take Doctor Syn with you, child, and become the better

acquainted yourselves, or with Lady Pembury’s help,” replied Sir Henry.

“But is there aught you can do for me, you say? Aye, there is. Two

requests to one man. Summon that rascally old butler of mine and tell

him that Sir Henry would take the physic ordered him by the Doctor

Sennacherib Pepper. It is, tell him, a full flagon of sherry sack, and

in it, my dear young friends, I shall drink to your good healths. I am

sure, too, Senorita, that you will remember enough of our English to

inform him that Doctor Syn, your escort here, is consenting to stay with

us for dinner.”

Doctor Syn bowed his thanks to the Squire of Lympne, saying, “I am

neither impertinent enough nor so stupid as to disobey your orders,

sir.” Then, turning to the girl and offering her his arm, added, “May I

help you, Senorita, to find the butler and deliver Sir Henry’s

commands?”

The young Doc tor, knowing the Castle well, escorted his beautiful

charge on air to the pantries, where he delivered the Squire’s messages.

He then took pains to take a roundabout way to the terrace, finding, to

his great relief, that Lady Pembury and the Spanish widow had left it

solitary but for the peacocks.

Imogene, who, owing to her father’s death and the strangeness of a

foreign land, had been considered reserved and shy, found herself

talking more freely than she had though possible to this young scholar.

And Doctor Syn, who had been so often rallied by his friend Tony for not

attempting a success amongst the ladies, realized that in this young

girl was a cure for all his shyness and aloofness. He knew also that in

her companionship he could be more than comp ensated for the loss of

parents and relatives that had forced his young life into a loneliness

that was unnatural.

Now, like all good Marshmen, Doctor Syn had been bred to understand

their natural enemy, the sea: the sea which angrily waited to destroy

the great

– 12 -

seawall which kept their pastures safe. He was a fine swimmer, and

knew something of sail, of tides and winds. But he confessed afterwards

to Tony Cobtree that he had never been so proud of his skill in

navigation as he was that morning in successfully avoiding a meeting in

the wide grounds of Lympne with Lady Pembury and the girl’s mother. No

sooner did he descry them in the distance than he tacked away on another

course which kept himself and his consort on a uninterrupted steering.

Therefore, by the time he exchanged greetings with the elder ladies on

their return to the Castle, the two young people had learned a good deal

about each other.

Having spent many happy years at the University, and knowing the

best families in the district, Doctor Syn was naturally interested to

know what house they were visiting in Oxford. The daughter, who spoke

English more fluently than her mother, explained that they were bound to

Iffley, on the outskirts of the town, and were to reside there with the

Squire until such time as certain business connected with her father’s

will could be settled. The Squire’s nephew, on Nicholas Tappitt, had

secured an important position under the British Ambassador at Madrid.

Through some unfair treatment, as the girl pointed out sympathetically,

the young man had lost his post, and having a liking for Spain as well

as for the sea, he had enlisted the influence of Senor Almago, who

provided him with a ship in which to carry his own fruit -produce to

England and the Netherlands. In this way Nicholas, for whom they seemed

to have a liking, was able to remain in Spain in spite of his lost

position. “My dear father believed in Nicholas,” said the girl. “And

whatever the trouble many have been at the Embassy, we w ere all

convinced that Nicholas was not to blame.”

Doctor Syn, knowing something of the said Nicholas, though otherwise,

for this plausible young rascal had been sent down from his college

owing to an unsavory scandal connected with a serving-wrench. H e kept

his opinion, though allowing himself to consider Imogene’s fine sympathy

wasted on such a rapscallion.

Hearing that Doctor Syn was acquainted with Squire Tappitt, the

Spanish ladies pressed him for information concerning him and the Iffley

estate. Here the young Doctor found himself in an awkward dilemma, for

certainly what he knew of the uncle was a good deal more unpalatable

than his knowledge of the nephew, for, known as Bully Tappitt, the

Iffley Squire was shunned by all God -fearing people in the

neighbourhood. Coarse, and brutally strong, with the worst reputation

where women were concerned, he was the last man Doctor Syn would have

wished to play the host towards his new-found friend and already adored

Imogene. So he answered all their questions concerning Iffley and the

Squire as evasively as possible, inwardly rejoicing that he was to be

their escort, and determined that they should transact any necessary

business with the Squire of Iffley from some quiet lodgings in the town,

where he and Tony could keep protective watch.

During dinner, set out on a round table, where Doctor Syn sat between

Lady Pembury and the Spanish girl, the latter talked so much about

Nicholas that the young cleric for the first time in his life suffered

the worst pangs of jealousy. She afforded him the acutest agony as she

recounted the many churches, parties and theatres to which the rascal

has escorted her. She told him how very fond she was of him, how vastly

he amused her with his funny ways, how much she admired his adventurous

spirit in becoming a businessman after his forced failure as a diplomat.

“But I loved him best,” she said—“oh yes, very much indeed—when he

told me he was desperately in love with me, but even better still when

he most solemnly asked me to marry him.”

– 13 -

With his spirits at the lowest ebb, Doctor Syn managed to ask her, “And

what did you answer?”

“I?” she whispered. “Why, I laughed in his face. I told him that my

very life would be in danger from all the other women he had put the

same question to that very day. And it is true. He has a way with him.

But oh, too reckless! They say that when he goes up to woo a lady in

her drawing-room, he will make proposals to the serving-maid upon the

stairs. He is a rake, m y dear sir.”

“I admit he was when I knew him,” returned Syn. “And so neither of

you took the proposal very seriously, I take it?” he added, with his

heart much lighter.

“He did,” she laughed. “At one time he was so serious in his

protestations that he ran out of our house to the nearest church,

embraced the Catholic Faith, and was surprised that such devotion did

not sway me. But how could I marry a man who would forget the fact

whenever he saw another petticoat in view?”

“Also you would not think of marrying a fool,” whispered Doctor Syn.

“And the man who, having once seen you, could think of another woman

would prove himself the worst of fools, in my thinking.”

“That is very kindly put,” she answered. “But, do you know, I think

that you are even quicker than poor Nicholas in saying the pretty

thing.”

“But I have never said a pretty thing to a lady before in all my

life,” he replied. “And except to you, I never shall. From the first

moment I saw you in the doorway, I knew well that I love d you. I do

love you, and for me there will be no other woman.”

“Then may I ask you a favour—a great favour?” she whispered.

“I will do anything for you,” he whispered back. “What is it?”

“That you will tell me that again when we are alone beneath the

stars? Will you?”

“When? Soon?”

“I hope so, “ she breathed back gently.

Now it was easier than might be imagined for these two young lovers

to whisper about such intimate things. First the girl’s mother, who sat

directly opposite, was slow to understand English, and both her host and

hostess had moved their chairs as close to hers as possible, so that

they could speak the plainer in her ears. Also Sir Henry, who was

secretly enjoying this ripening love affair, tactfully moved a large

bowl of flowers, which screened their faces into a comparative privacy,

and of this Doctor Syn certainly made the best advantage, for just

before Lady Pembury suggested that they should retire to the drawing room and leave the gentlemen to their port, he had taken Imogene’s hand

in his beneath the table, had felt an answering pressure to his own, and

then seen, to his utmost joy, her lips frame silently the words, “I love

you too.”

Then, owing to Sir Henry’s gout, he claimed the privilege of

escorting the ladies to the door, and since the girl was last to leave,

he managed to whisper without the butler hearing, “Upon the terrace.

Soon. Beneath the stars.”

And the look she gave him was assent.

All very romantic, and cleverly done. But Doctor Syn had really no

cause to think, as he did, that he had deceived not only Sir Henry, but

the butler; for as he gazed after the girl until she disappeared into

the drawing-room,

Sir Henry was guilty of bestowing a solemn wink upon the ancient and

stately man-servant, who respectfully and solemnly returned the wink to

his master.

– 14 -

But of this Doctor Syn was ignorant, as he returned to the table and,

picking up his glass, toasted “All beneath the roof of Lympne Castle.”

“Sit down here, Doctor,” said the Squire of Lympne. “I told you that

you seemed to be the sort of young man who can get what he wants, and I

am most eager to help you.”

“That is very good of you, sir,” replied Doctor Syn, with a smile of

gratitude.

“I suggest,” continued Sir Henry, “that I despatch one of my stablemen down to Dymchurch with a note from me to say that you are staying

the night with us here, for it has occurred to me that the evenings

being still long, the stars may be plaguey late coming out upon the

terrace.”

“Faith, sir,” laughed the Doctor, “either I talk too loud, or your

hearing is very acute.”

“Or your speaking is always clear, even in whisperings,” said Sir

Henry. “But listen to my further suggestions, and see if they commend

themselves to you. Tomorrow you will escort the lady and her Spanish

companions to Dymchurch, and make them acquainted with our good friends,

the Cobtrees. Sir Charles, being your guardian, will no doubt be glad

of the opportunity of looking well upon the face and person of the

Senorita, for I may drop such a hint to him in my letter. I then

suggest that while he talks with our Spanish ladies, you take the

opportunity of packing up your traps and having them put into the boot

of my coach. I then suggest that you persuade the Cobtrees how very

essential it is for you to return to Lympne and finish your vacation

with us. Young Cobtree will certainly excuse you, since he must be in

the same frame of mind which your visit to Lympne has framed you in too.

My further suggestion is that, since the Senorita is a keen horsewoman,

and owing to the fact that your whisperings inside the coach might be

too clear, you two shall ride behind the coach at a distance sufficient

to avoid the dust of the wheels. I mention the back of the coach in

order that my good coachman shall have nothing to distract his attention

from the horses before him. And now, if you are in agreement, bring me

those writing materials, and I will pen the letter on the table here.

But let me first recharge our glasses, and drink to Doctor Syn, and one

other that shall be nameless.”

“And to our kind host,” replied the Doctor.

“And since I like to be undisturbed when toiling with the pen,” went

on Sir Henry, “I suggest that when you have helped me finish this

bottle, you rejoin the ladies in the drawing -room.”

Before carrying out this last suggestion, Doctor Syn unfolded his

anxiety concerning the Squire of Iffley, telling Sir Henry in confidence

all that he knew of the uncle and the nephew.

To this, Sir Henry listened gravely, and then asked, “How long is it

since you visited these Tappitt people, then?”

“For nearly a year I have avoided Iffley,” replied Syn. “I formed

the opinion they were not the sort of people with whom a

clerical official of my college should be associated. I have too many

young and impressionable youths under my charge, and have to set them an

example. Warning them against such rakes as the Tappitts, I had in all

honesty to take the warning to myself.”

“And have you heard nothing of the uncle since?” asked Sir Henry.

“Nothing to his credit, believe me, sir.”

“You tell me that he had a bad reputation where women are concerned,”

went on Sir Henry. “But when you knew him, he was a bachelor, I

understand.”

“He certainly had no wife to insult with the presence of the many

questionable ladies that resorted there.”

– 15 -

“Then, since a woman can so often change a man for the better,” said

Sir Henry, “perhaps even Bully Tappitt has mend his ways. I have a

letter here that you may read. The Senora had another couched in the

same terms. As you see, this is addressed to Lady Pembury and myself,

telling us what a pleasure it will be to receive our Spanish guests, and

asking when they may expect them. It is signed, as you see, by Elinor

Tappitt, wife to the Squire of Iffley.”

Saying which, he handed the parson a letter which he took from his

pocket.

Doctor Syn read the letter through, and then glanced up at Sir Henry.

“Well, sir,” he said, “at the risk of seeming suspicious and perhaps

uncharitable, I believe this letter to be false.

“The Squire of Iffley thinks, quite rightly, that if our Spanish

ladies realize he is a bachelor and has no wife to welcome and protect

them, they would decline to sojourn under his roof. This would not suit

Bully Tappitt. He needs money for his gaming, and if he can get our

friends into his power he will do what he likes with their money. Now,

I know a landlady in Oxford of the strictest integrity, where our

friends could be lodged most comfortable, and I suggest, sir, in my

turn, that we shall be fortunate in having Tony Cobtree in our company,

for since he has already been called to the Bar, his advice on any

document that may be presented to the ladies for signature will be of

the greatest help.”

“And the very nature of his journey will keep him in Oxford some

time, no doubt,” laughed Sir Henry. “Well, my lad, since you are to be

the ladies’ escort, this Squire of Iffley be contemplating any rascally

tricks, I warrant you and young Cobtree will be more than a match for

him.”

“I hope we may be, sir,” replied Doctor Syn. “For my part, I shall

depart from the usual custom of my cloth and buckle on my father’s

sword.”

“But however brave your steel,” cautioned Sir Henry, “see that it is

tempered with good caution, for to make enmity with a noted duelist is

no light undertaking.”

“At the worst, sir, I should not be unprepared,” replied the Doctor,

“for since taking orders I have never given up the practice of many

accomplishments. In riding, fence and marksmanship I have been in

continual training, and with right upon my side and a reasonable amount

of luck, backed by mine own skill, I have yet to meet a man whom in a

righteous quarrel I should avoid.”

“And since Christ in Holy Writ that He brought a sword to the Earth,

I fail to see why His own parsons should be scorned to be skilled in

‘em,” said the Squire of Lympne solemnly.

After which understanding between these two gentlemen, Doctor Syn

went to join the ladies.

And long after the Squire of Lympne had despatched his rider with the

letter for Sir Charles Cobtree upon Romney Marsh, the early night stars

played their romantic parts upon the terrace of the Castle, so that when

a last good-nights were said in the corridors of Lympne, Doctor Syn was

confident that his authority with the Spanish ladies went a little

further than mere escort, for Imogene gave him cause to believe that

their families were almost united. Certain it was that Doctor Syn

desired no better.

The n ext day the faithful coachman to Sir Henry reported to his

master that the expedition to Dymchurch-under-the-Wall was a great

success. His “Everything -seems-very-promising-your-Honour” was

optimistic news to Sir Henry, and it did the coachman no harm in

reporting it, for Sir Henry, despite his gout, was still romantically

inclined, and happened to be fond of both his young Spanish guest and

the brilliant nephew of his own attorney Solomon Syn.

– 16 -

Imogene loved Dymchurch, and all the good folks she met there. Sir

Charles Cobtree went out of his way to make the place seem attractive to

her.

“Persuade young Christopher to marry, my dear, and then tell him to

leave Oxford and retire here as our Vicar. The people need a married

parson here. Our pr esent incumbent wishes to retire. Well, he is old,

I’ll admit. But I’ve badgered the old fellow to stay on till my good

young friend is ready to take his place. Let him bring Dymchurch a

Vicar’s wife, and the living’s his.”

“I love it all, my Christopher,” she whispered on the ride back to

Lympne beneath the stars, “But oh, my dear, your little churches, and

your great ones too, of the Protestant Faith are so very plain and dull

compared with the glories of ours. But I love you, dear. Yes, I put

you before religion.”

“But could you change your faith for mine?” asked the parson.

“Oh, but I could do more for you than ever the stupid poor dear

headstrong Nicholas did for me,” she answered. “If he could change his

faith for mine because of love, cannot my love

make me change mine too, because I happen so to think of you? My church

is now you, and my faith and ritual is my love for you. Do you love me

as well?”

“I think I would give up all for you,” he answered. “But you could

never ask me to give up faith and honour. You also could never give up

honour, and I do not ask you to give up your own country’s faith.”

“But I shall, and of my own free will; and yes, because of you. But

you must still allow me to think that the churches of the Pr otestants

are, oh, so dull!”

“Your presence in them will make them the more lively,” he smiles

back.

But that speech of hers he was destined to remember through the

twenty years’ Odyssey of bitterness.

However, there was no thought of bitterness d uring the blessed week,

so skillfully prepared by the Squire of Lympne, and certainly no

bitterness in that long ride beside the coach to Oxford. A face at the

coach window. A beloved rider outside. A loyal companion in the

handsome Tony Cobtree, who lingered for his friend’s sake, although so

impatient to reach their goal for his own ends. A long, romantic

journey, and no mishap to mar it. But everything to make it wonderful.

Romance and Love. Until at last Doctor Syn rides out to Iffley to inform

the Squire that his betrothed, one Imogene Almago, and her mother are

awaiting to receive him in their lodgings at Oxford, and that their

attorney will be there at his convenience any morning to discuss

business.