Joan, The Curate/Chapter 9
The October sunshine was bright; there was a pleasant, bracing breeze coming from the sea; the brown trees were at their prettiest, as they shed their showers of dead leaves at the lightest touch of the wind: yet the brigadier and Lieutenant Tregenna, as they rode side by side away from Rede Hall, noted none of these things: for to them the sky was lowering and the wind whistled of failure and disappointment.
"Did you search the great barn?" asked Tregenna, interrupting a string of his companion's curses upon things in general and women in particular.
"Ay, every corner of it, and poked into every cranny," answered General Hambledon, morosely. "There was naught in the whole place, but a couple of rusty plowshares, a few sacks full of grain, and some lumber that we turned inside out in search of contraband goods. But no, sir, not so much as a keg of aqua vitæ, or a quid of tobacco was there in any corner."
"They're cunning folk," said Tregenna, rather dismally. "I have small faith in Mistress Ann's toothache, for one thing."
"Nay, why should she fain?" said the brigadier, quickly. "The lass looked vastly ill, to my thinking. Had she been herself, I warrant we should have had some sport, at least; for I've found her ready with her tongue, and as full of jests as she is of tricks."
"You think now that she's a confederate of the smugglers?"
"Damme, it seems like it. Wherever one asks about these cattle, one hears talk of this Rede Hall, as if 'twere their headquarters. The difficulty is to take the beggars unawares. They must have been prepared this morning. Odds life!" The general started violently as he uttered these words, evidently struck by a new idea. "The parson! He was at the squire's this morning, when we went to get the warrant! It's as like as not he's friendly to the gang, like all the rest of them in these parts. Mayhap he guessed our errand, and was away to put them on their guard before we left the house! Eh, sir? What do you think about it?"
Tregenna was frowning gloomily. He was honest; biting his lips, he made confession of his share in the mystery.
"Ay, truly I fear so, and that I had a hand in bringing it about," he admitted, somewhat shamefacedly. "I had a few words to say to Mistress Joan, little thinking"
The general interrupted him, breaking out into a laugh and an oath at the same time.
"Ay, you lads, there's no keeping you away from the petticoats!" he said mockingly. "Had you but held your tongue, and kept your mind on your duty instead of blinking into the eyes of a handsome lass, we might have surprised the villains, and not have come back with our tails between our legs, like the fools we look now!"
"Sir," retorted Tregenna, not angrily, but still with spirit, "I have but taken a leaf out of your own book. As you were tricked by Mistress Ann Price so have I been befooled by Mistress Joan Langney. So that neither of us can in fairness reproach the other!" For a few moments the brigadier seemed inclined to resent the view taken of the case by the younger man. After a little reflection, however, and the finding of some relief in a flow of his favorite language, he allowed himself to laugh shortly.
"Well," grumbled he at last, "we can at least ease our minds by going straight to the parson's house, and bestowing upon him our opinion of his conduct, and some advice as to the future. And thank the Lord he's lost his run with the hounds to-day!"
Lieutenant Tregenna was not likely to object to any proposal which promised to bring him within speaking distance of Mistress Joan; so they set their horses at a smart trot, and were back in the village without much loss of time.
When they got to the Parsonage, it was the master himself who answered their summons, with, they fancied, a rather guilty look on his face.
"Can we speak a word with you, sir?" said the brigadier, in a short, dry tone. "You know whence we come, as I think."
"Ay, come in, come in. You are both heartily welcome," said the vicar, pushing his wig to one side of his head, as his custom was when he was troubled or perplexed. "You shall taste of my daughter's currant wine, and drink the health of his Majesty."
"'Twould be more to the purpose, sir, with all thanks to you for your hospitality," replied the brigadier, "if you would assist his Majesty's troops in the execution of their duty, instead of doing what you can to impede them."
"How say you, sir? What mean you?" retorted the parson sturdily, as he turned upon them, apparently glad to find that things had so quickly come to a crisis.
He had led his visitors into the little dining-parlor, which was one-half of the lower part of what had once been a fine hall. The roof was low, and the beams were roughly whitewashed like the rest of the ceiling. A small window, with latticed panes, was set in the thickness of the wall on the front side of the house. Opposite the door was the old wide hearth, the upper part filled with curiously carved woodwork, and a comfortable wooden armchair in the corner on each side. On the high shelf above were a couple of brass candlesticks, each containing a tallow candle, in that time of rushlights quite a luxurious extravagance. On the oak dining-table in the middle of the room were the parson's writing materials, his bunch of quills, round jar of ink, half a dozen rough sheets of paper, and a sand-box. And beside them was his pipe, just laid down.
Two strips of carpet laid on the stone floor; red window curtains; half a dozen solid oak chairs with tapestry seats, and a couple of ancient oak chests, completed the furniture of the room, which yet had a comfortable and homely aspect.
"What mean you by saying I impede his Majesty's troops in the execution of their duty?" repeated Parson Langney, standing in all the pugnacious dignity of the church militant, with his back to the fire, and his wig more on one side than ever.
"You was in a mighty hurry, sir, this morning, to get to Rede Hall before we could reach it with the warrants we hold for the arrest of certain plunderers of his Majesty's revenue," blurted out the brigadier, planting one hand on his hip, and thumping the table with the other as he spoke.
Parson Langney was no actor; the expression which clouded his jolly face betrayed him.
"Sir, I was at Rede Hall this morning, I admit," said he, looking defiantly at the officer. "But as for what I did there, you have no right to put such an interpretation as you do upon my visit."
"Do you deny, sir, that you mentioned we were on our way thither?" roared the brigadier.
"I deny, sir, that you have any right to put such questions to me," retorted the parson quite as loudly.
The gentlemen were both much heated; and it began to look, as they advanced their excited faces nearer and nearer over the table, till the tails of their bob-wigs stuck up quivering in the air, as if from mere words they would ere long come to blows.
When suddenly there appeared, in the doorway of the narrow little entrance to the kitchen which filled the corner beyond the fireplace, a peacemaker in the shape of handsome Joan.
She had evidently been engaged in some culinary occupation, for there were traces of flour still to be seen on her round arms, under the long black mittens which she had hastily pulled on. She had exchanged the smart tabby gown of the morning for a homelier dress, over which her long white apron hung. Her pretty brown hair, without any cap, was rolled high above her white brow. Her face was pale and anxious, as she came quickly in and thrust one hand through her father's arm.
"Let me answer him, father," said she in a low voice.
The general drew himself up. "Well, madam, and what have you to say?" said he, unconsciously softening his tone, as no man could help doing when addressing a creature so fair.
"It was I, sir, who begged my father to give up his hunting and to come to Rede Hall with me; and if you have any fault to find with that action, 'tis I should bear the blame of it."
"And pray, mistress, what need had you to go to the farm in such a monstrous hurry?"
"That, sir, frankly I would rather not tell."
"Ho, ho, 'tis told then! 'Twas without doubt to put these rascals on their guard, and to enable them to get away ere we came up!"
Joan made no answer.
"You can't deny it, madam! Remember, we have already had proof of your sympathy with the ruffians, in that you let Gardener Tom escape from your house when you knew we were after him!"
"Sir, there was a higher duty before us then, than that of aiding in the capture of a criminal. We would have done the same for you, had you been staying under our roof, ay, had you been accused of murder," said the girl, with spirit.
"Well said, my lass," cried her father.
But the brigadier's chivalry was not proof against the provocation he was receiving from this valiant and outspoken young woman. He gave her one angry look, gulped down the words he dared not utter to her, and turning hastily back to the parson, said shortly—
"This, sir, is no affair to discuss with ladies. 'Tis with you I would have my talk out, and 'tis your explanation I wish to hear. The lady must pardon me, but this is an affair which touches my honor and my fame as a commander."
"Go, my dear, go back to your work," said her father, patting her hand affectionately, and giving her a nod of command. "Leave these gentlemen and me to settle this together."
Though with manifest reluctance, Joan obeyed, withdrawing her arm from her father's with one tender glance in his face, and curtseying low to the visitors, with her eyes on the ground, ere retiring.
No sooner was she gone back to the kitchen, than the two combatants began again the old discussion, never getting much further with it—the one reproaching, accusing, the other evading, excusing. But they seemed perhaps a little calmer since that pleasant irruption of the sweet sex, even when the gentle presence was withdrawn.
So that it presently seemed good to Lieutenant Tregenna to leave them to fight the matter out together, while he made the balance of parties even by beating a retreat to that end of the room where the lady had disappeared. The kitchen door was ajar, and, while the two elderly gentlemen were still banging the table and growing purple in the face, he took the liberty of peeping through the chink. The yellow-washed walls looked bright in the sunlight; the deal table, scrubbed beautifully white, was quite a picturesque object with the great red earthenware dish lying upon it. The jugs on the walls, the metal utensils on the dresser, made a charming picture. So did the tabby cat, curled up in one corner; so, above all, did that particularly neat figure in the gray homespun frock, with the graceful arms and the clever hands, and with that delicious profile above it all.
"I tell you, sir, you are no better than a traitor to the king if you do not help his officers."
"I tell you, sir, you don't know what you are talking about!"
Thus the gentlemen jangled on; but their bickering had become an unimportant incident to Tregenna.
He made rather a nice picture himself in his smart uniform, with his well-powdered wig surmounting a handsome, clean-cut face, his gray hawks' eyes, now filled with the light of the young and ardent, his mouth softened by the suspicion of a smile. He held his sword with one hand, that its clanking should not startle her; and his smart three-cornered hat was cocked jauntily under his arm.
Suddenly she turned; and by this time he was half inside the kitchen door. Joan uttered a little cry; and, as if taking it for an invitation, Tregenna hopped right in and came up to her.
"Sir," said she, "what business have you with me?"
But she was not angry; she crossed her hands, one of which held a rolling-pin, demurely in front of her, and looked down in a stately fashion, not at all disturbed at being discovered in the act of making a pudding, for those were domestic days.
"Much the same business, Miss Joan, that the brigadier has with your father," said Tregenna. "There is no pretense, as you know, betwixt you and me. We are foes avowed. I ask you no questions about your visit to the farm this morning, because I know what took you thither. Neither will you need to ask why I am going again to Rede Hall, to inquire into this mystery concerning the Gray Barn."
"You are going again?" said Joan, with interest, in which he thought he detected fear also.
"Yes. And I make no secret of saying I am not going to be fooled by the innocent appearance of the place. I am going again and again, until I have cleared them all out, like wasps out of a hole. Mistress Ann Price and her confederates must find a fresh field for their practises; I swear they shall not continue to carry them on in that part of the coast that is under my vigilance."
"And you do not fear to tell me this, believing, as you do, that I am in league with them myself?"
"'Tis for that reason I tell you, that you may warn them they must go."
"Why did you not tell Mistress Ann herself?" asked Joan, with strange quietness. "If you think, as you say, she is concerned with the gang?"
"I will tell her when I meet her next," said Tregenna, promptly. "She has challenged me to go some night and find out for myself the truth of the tales the folks tell about the haunted barn. She"
But Joan interrupted him, with a sudden look of intense anxiety—
"She challenged you to go at night? To the great barn?"
"Ay, that she did. And I accepted her invitation."
"But you will not go! You must not! 'Twould not be safe"
Joan uttered the words with great earnestness; but stopped, blushing, when she had got so far. Tregenna took up her words—
"Not safe! How mean you? Surely my safety is the last thing you would concern yourself with. 'Tis for the safety of these smuggling folk alone that you care."
Joan looked down, and said nothing. But it was plain by the heaving of her breast and by her labored breathing, that she was much agitated.
"Is it not so, Miss Joan?"
"Nay, Mr. Tregenna, 'tis not so. I would not have you come to harm. If you pursue those whom I have reason to hold in more esteem than you do, I know that 'tis but your duty you are doing."
"And 'tis in the performance of my duty that I must visit Rede Hall again."
"And I tell you again that you must not. Without saying aught against the people that live there, I know there are others that frequent that neighborhood that would not scruple to set upon you, perhaps to kill you, for what you have done to their friends and confederates. No, Mr. Tregenna, if you go, go with your men, or with the general, but go not alone."
"I thank you for your warning. But 'tis alone I must go. Surely you do not credit your friend Mistress Ann with any intention of luring me into a danger she must know of."
But to his surprise, Joan's face clearly betrayed that she did believe Ann Price capable of such a proceeding. At least, this was what he read in her perturbed expression.
"Ann is a strange creature," said she dubiously. "She is a most loyal friend, but"
The pause which ensued was expressive.
"But a dangerous enemy. Is that what you would say?"
"Maybe," said Joan, curtly.
"Well, I must risk what she can do"
"Even though you know not how much that may be?"
"Even then."
There was another pause.
"When do you purpose going?" asked Joan, suddenly.
"Ah, that I may not tell you."
"You trust me not, sir? You think I would betray you into the hands of them that would do you harm?"
"Nay, I do not say that. I do not think that. But, as you keep your own counsel where these smugglers are concerned, so do I think it best to keep mine own."
Joan bowed her head proudly, as if in assent. But she was not at her ease; she glanced at him quickly, and he saw that there were tears in her dark eyes, whether of mortification, of sympathy, or of some other feeling, he could not tell.
As they stood silent, he looking at her, and she turning towards the ivy-hung window, the voice of the vicar startled them both, as he called—
"Joan, where art thou, child?"
"Here, father," cried she, as, with a rather startled, shamefaced look at Tregenna, she ran into the dining-parlor, followed more slowly by her companion.
Neither of the young people had noticed, so much interested had they been in their own conversation, that the voices of the two gentlemen had gradually sunk to more friendly tones. But both were glad to see, on re-entering the room where they had left the disputants, that the battle of tongues was over, and that the general was sitting by the fire-side in an attitude indicative of a more friendly mood.
And Joan was bidden to bring the currant wine, in which both the brigadier and Tregenna pledged their host right heartily, whatever suspicions they might have as to the existence of a stronger liquor in the cellar.
They all spent a pleasant ten minutes over the wine and discreet small talk, and then the visitors took their leave.
As the brigadier shook hands with his host, Joan found an opportunity to exchange a few more words with the younger guest.
"Will you not take one last word of warning, sir, and refrain from visiting Rede Hall alone?"
"I fear I can give you no such promise, though I thank you for your kindness."
"Which, nevertheless, you trust not. Farewell then, sir; for if you keep to your intention, I shall never see you again alive."