1.
IT HAD BEEN A bright forgathering, bright people with their bright talk suffusing him with the warm radiance of his own bright future. Captain Lance Courtenay was proud of himself; he had watched his own words, all evening, falling as ordered and as startling as the brocade on his fashionable waistcoat; he felt his presence in such company was as timely and as casual as the stylish solitaire about his neck. Ay, bright was the word, and the next (or the one after) would be brilliant. Captain Courtenay was on his way.
âNot on your way so soon?â asked Lady Blanton as he bent over her wrinkled hand; and again he was pleased, for his ear was quick and he knew the overtones of sincerity when they appeared in a common phrase.
âI leave part of myself with you, milady,â he said. He knew a way to produce his words with a breath like sighing and a firm rumble deep in his chest, a whisper with a contrabass. âYou know I remain here in spirit, and a decent bit of my heart is yours alone.â
âAlong with you, rascal,â she said, but she fluttered, she twinkled; she had been reached. âYouâd eyes only for Miss Axelrood the whole evening.â
This was true, but he shook his head and smiled. His teeth were excellent, especially the right upper incisor, which was extraordinary. âAs we say in Devon, who studies a sheep to steal had better know the shepherdess.â
The old lady laughed heartily, then drew him a step into the foyer. âI think to this day Iâve heard Libby Chudleigh called everything but a shepherdess.â Sobering, she leaned close and said, almost anxiously, âTell me, Captain, as a young man correct in all things; do you think it quiteâahâproper of me to entertain her, even when she brings such an ornament as her little Miss Axelrood?â
He contemplated her question and her earrings. Her earrings were diamond clusters, probably Italian, and glorified Mammon more than the Muses; he was delighted with them, and with their owner, who prompted him, âHave I embarrassed you, young man?â
âYou have gratified me, milady. ⌠As to your question, I feel that your house is the heart of Holborn, Holborn the heart of London, and London the heart of the world. If then all things are in the world, do not all things have a place here?â
âYou have not answered my question, and you have been charming,â said Lady Blanton approvingly. âTell me this too: do you always call for your carriage at the very peak of an evening?â
âMy carriage called for me,â he rejoined. At the same time he managed to raise and hold his hat in a way which might have had significance; at any rate, she glanced at it. It was a wide-brimmed hat of the usual mode, drawn up and pinned three-corner style. âAh,â she said, âyou military men, with your mysterious comings and goings! ⌠Where may I reach you, Captain?â
Behind the warmth and sincerity of his smile, a small explosion of exasperation threatened. That againâalways that! What gleaming boots and good broadcloth could accomplish, the lack of an address could sweep away. With England weighted to sinking with town houses and granges, castles and manors, he had none to claim, even as resident, even as visitor. He said, âI cannot say, milady. I await orders; they come tomorrow at the latest. If one might have the privilege of writing âŚâ
âYou may call it a duty. Good night, young man.â
âMilady.â He kissed her hand again, and strode quickly through the door, which stood open to the warm spring nightâtoo quickly for a sight of the servantâs outstretched palm. Down the steps he sprang, and into his carriage, which stood all agleam in a fair yellow paint and dull red trim, a match to the small crest of the Courtenays on the quarter-panel.
The coachman gathered his lines and grumbled in a resounding basso: âEh, my peacock, another instant oâ that chitty-chatty and yeâd aâ ridden âome astride yer own arse.â
âHush, you old fool,â snapped the Captain, and then, âHoldâhalt!â as the wet gray entrance brought forth a vision. Down the steps came the fair Miss Axelrood, little feet atwinkle and her hoops held high. She leaped to the carriage step, alighting like a bird, her eyes and teeth sparkling in the glow from Blanton House. Lance Courtenay impulsively caught at her bare shoulder to steady her, and she turned it under his hand and away, laughing. He had to control the impulse to look down into his hand, such warmth and smoothness seemed to cling there. âYou have at last been ungallant, Captain Courtenay, and all evening I had been sure you could not.â
âI assure you, Miss Axelââ
âA gentleman,â she chided, âis never inadvertently impolite.â Before he could rephrase this toward understanding, she gave him that small dazzling laugh again and explained, âYou left and bade me no adieux.â
âA thousand pardons,â he whispered, the hiss with the viol. âI leave against my will. A sudden and most urgentââ
âI donât want your apologies, Captain Courtenay, and Iâll allow all your explanations. I have flown out here, bold as can be, only for your farewell.â
âAu revoir ⌠?â he hazarded.
âAh,â she said, âjust that, I know we shall meet again.â
âIt could not be too soon.â
âIt could. It shall be!â and she sprang away to the steps and up them, turning to laugh again just as she disappeared.
âNow thereâs a saucy bit,â rumbled the coachman, âand one to âware of, Lanky.â
âDrive, dash it all, Piggott.â
âHigger-Piggott,â said the man good-naturedly, leaning heavily on the aspirant. âDonât take away my respeckable âyphen.â He flicked his lines and the coach rumbled into Grayâs Inn Road.
Lance Courtenay waited until they were safely out of earshot of Blanton House and the traffic around it, and then flared, âDamme, Iâll take away more than your blasted hyphen if you donât stop making a fool of me in front of your betters.â
âEh,â shrugged the coachman, âye come by it honest, Lanky. Weâre all fools. âŚâOo is that pretty baggage, anyâow?â
Fuming, Lance ignored the question. Through Oxford Street he ignored it, and through the river corner of Cheapside; but at the bridge he surprised himself by answering: âSheâs a Miss Axelrood.â
The coachman said nothing. Lolloping down between the bridge shops, the coach was half across the river before Lance amended: âShe was brought by Miss Chudleigh.â
This got a response; Piggott hummed with interest. âWas she then! How long has the old hoor been back in England?â
âI donât know. Not long.â He was always reluctant, somehow, to discuss anything with the foul-mouthed old man; yet Piggott was in a position to pick up an encyclopedic amount of gossip. He said, challengingly, âSheâs a splendid-looking woman, though I had only a glimpse of her. Sheâs not old, Piggott.â
âSheâs seen âer two-score, and âalf another one by now. Why, she was your age when she went naked to the Venetian Ambassadorâs ball, and that was five-and-twenty year ago, at the least.â
âNot naked, Piggott!â
âAy, naked, and dâye think they pitched her into the Serpentine for that? Na, âis admirinâ Majesty the Second George gave âer a fifty-guinea watch. Greedy bitch! Dâye know sheâs wed to the Earl of Bristolâs brother?â
âI donât know that. I had heard it,â said Lance primly.
âShe is, for all that. Couldâve âad the Earl of Bath, and struck the Duke of Hamilton âtwixt wind and water, takinâ a piece along like a cannonball off a oaken frigate. Maid of Honour at Court she was. Eh! I could tell you what she was made of ⌠but âtwas Bristolâs brother she wanted and Bristolâs brother she got one midnight, then off âe goes to sea. Whelped one for âim too, or so they say.â
âWhatever became of the child?â
Piggott shrugged wide old shoulders. âDead by now, or given away. Growinâ up somewhere like the rest of us, believinâ what âeâs told whether itâs true or not. âE mightâve been the first the bitch dropped by the wayside, and âe might not. I can tell you âe werenât the last, and mayhap the last âasnât passed those portals eâen now; old Libâs still at it.â
âPiggott, youâve a filthy mouth.â
âAy. Itâs a filthy time.â
Lance looked out over the black water and denied this with all his being. Long association with Piggott made this denial a silent one, but none the less fervent for that. There was right and there was wrong; though these may not immediately present themselves to a man, he need only dig a little deeper, wait a little longer, to find them out. The dirty grey world in which Piggott lived filled him with horror, drove him constantly toward the white purities of a gentlemanâs existence. Yet the fact remained that grey was made up of particles of white in the blackness, and Piggott presented him with many of these. âWhat do you mean sheâs still at it?â
âWhat dâye talk about in yon cold-frame of a âouse, you and tâother winter blooms?â Piggott blazed.
âWhatever it is, it isnât hostlersâ gossip.â
âAnd a pity.â Piggott aimed his whip handle at the young manâs broadcloth. âEngland and Prussia rule the ruddy world this Anno ruddy Domino seventeen âundred anâ sixty nine,â he orated, âand those that rule the world take the orders of their âostlers, ay, their valets and their Maids of ruddy Honour. They do what theyâre told, they do, because their servants always know whatâs âappening, and they canât know âtill theyâre told, like a ruddy great general wantinâ to know whatâs âappening over the âill. âE could ask âis batman anâ likely âe does; otherwise itâs someone elseâs batman âoo finds out, or it âas to go all the way down the line to a weary-arse grenadier âoo finally sticks âis âead over and eats grapeshot for âis breakfast ⌠and âooâs more of a servant than anybodyâs ruddy foot soldier, Iâd like to know? While youâre about learninâ your airs and graces, mâlad, never forget to leave an ear in the scullery, and be grateful to whoever keeps the wax out of it for ye. What were we talkinâ about?â
âYou were making some libelous remarks about Miss Chudleigh.â
âNa, lad, âtwas slander,â the old man corrected. In the darkness, Lance Courtenay blushed; there were reasons why the distinction should have been his to make. Piggott went on, âMilord Augustus Hervey, the Duke of Bristolâs brother âas so many âorns on âim from our Lib âtis said without âis wig âe looks like a ruddy âall-tree. When she âasnât been âawkin âer wares to foreigners on their âome grounds, sheâs been the hoor oâ the Duke oâ Kingston, olâ Evey Pierrepont.â
âLook,â said Lance, too enthralled at this point to affect disdain, âif she really is Herveyâs wife, why has she kept it a secret all these years?â
â âAd to. When âe slipped the ring on âer âand, âe wasnât of age. Afraid âe wouldnât inherit if it got about, and so was she. By the time âe did come in for âis small slice, she was already abed with Kingston and wanted no mite nor morsel of âer âusband. âEâs a queer duck, anyâow, Bristol is, âappy with âis ships an âis grouse, and with âer too, long as she keeps âer âooks out oâ the Bristol treasury. And that she does, with Kingston there to cover âer nakedness when âe ainât using it, and giving âer bits of town âouses to keep the rain off.â
âThat canât last long.â
âAy. We all get older.â
âWhat do you mean by that?â
âItâs been going on these four-and-twenty year, ladâsince before you were born.â
âI canât believe it! Why doesnât he divorce her?â
Piggottâs burst of laughter startled the off horse. When he had her reined in, he said, âScandal, lad.â
âIsnât all this scandal?â
âNa. Itâs what you call âostlersâ gossip. Fine folk can stand any amount oâ that. But bring in your courts, anâ your swear-inâs and defaults, anâ itâs scandal, anâ that hurts âem. Bristolâs not like England anâ Frederick the ruddy Great these days; fight a war for seven year and settle it with everybody âome where they come from, what they call status quo ante only the poorer for it. Kingstonâs getting what âeâs paying for, or thinks âe is or âe wouldnât be paying it; and Libby Chudleighâs got enough oâ the Kingston entrails wrapped around âer finger to make a duchess of âer, werenât it for Hervey. Sheâll not drop âim while âe stands to inherit, and sheâll not drop Kingston either. They all take their pleasures, lad, and the only real cost isââostlersâ gossip.â
âIâm glad such people have your approval,â said Lance, regaining his loftiness.
âYeâre a smarmy little prig,â said Piggott reflectively.
âWeâre coming into Southwark.â said Lance. âWeâd betterââ
âAy,â said the coachman, pulling left to the curb. He lashed up the reins and plunged his arms down into the boot. From it he drew a folded cloak, which he handed down to Lance, receiving the Captainâs good woolen for it. Lance threw on the second cloak, removed his tricorne, unpinned the ribbons and let the brim drop. Piggott swung down and stepped to the right quarter-panel, where after a moment he emerged with the crest of the Courtenays, three red roundels on a golden field. This he placed on the seat beside Lance. He went around to the left side and turned the air blue with his imprecations. âSome pile-ridden catamiteâs been at me coach!â he roared. âFour shillinâ six anâ three farthinâs up the spout, or âalf of it, and God blind you if you say get another, Lanky.â
Lance leaned out and looked. Piggott was pounding the dangling straps from which the second Courtenay crest had been unbuckled. âWhat happened to it?â
âWhat âappened to the âoly Grail? I donât know, damn blast the pox-puckered mother of the fatherless colonial âoo did this.â
âYouâre losing your sight with your wits in your old age,â said Lance. âNext theyâll have the wheels while you sit on the box a-gossip with some other old swine.â
âBy God weâve crossed the river and itâs your turn to keep a civil tongue in yer âead, ye little wart.â
âThis bargain is beginning to be over-costly to me,â said the young man icily.
âThen strike a bargain with some other âackney. Thereâs upwards oâ five âundred on the streets today, a good third cast-off privates like thisân. Among so many, surely to God ye can find a fool like me, but by my dangling breek, it must be a greater one.â
âThe more fool I,â returned Lance. âYeâd be back in the stables standing in muck whilst the other hostlers curried your face, taking it for the hind end of a spavined mare, werenât it for me. Who found ye this trap? Who paid to dress and paint it? Who flogged ye into a decent livery and taught ye to blow your nose on your sleeve instead of snapping it in your lap? Who but me?â
âYe found the coach, Iâll grant; but âoo paid for it? Ye bought paint; âoo laid it on? Ye prettied me up along of the trap, and Iâll grant a quality fare say twice a fortnight for that, but âoo gives up âis âackney money masquerading as a popinjayâs pimp, ay, and stands for yer âigh anâ mighty insults the while?â
Reverting to the cadences of a Courtenay, and with an imperious gesture, Lance said. âWe have arrived at the dissolution of our partnership, Higger-Piggott. You may drive me to my inn, and thereafter you may find your own perdition.â
Even in the dark, Lance could see the black furious flush crossing the old manâs face. His voice was thick with anger as he snapped his whip out of the brace and set foot on the step. The carriage leaned and creaked with his weight, he loomed over the young man like a breaking sea, he sprayed and spat as he growled. âAy, sir, ay, sir, that I will, sir; drive ye to yer inn, and on the instant; but I faithfully promise ye, God rot me, that I shall tie up these ruddy âorses âere and now and do my driving with this cat,â and he whistled his lash close to the crown of Lanceâs newly slouched hat.
Now it has been recorded that all of this young manâs teeth were beautiful, but that one of them was extraordinary. It was the right upper incisor, and its uniqueness lay in a subtle concavity, from gum to bite and from edge to edge, so finely wrought by natureâs lapidary that its difference from the other teeth was invisible on the closest inspection. And like most other wonders created by man or God, this one was meanin...