33. THE ENGLISH CHANNEL - NORMANDY
On Monday morning the little steamer Speedwell made her appearance
round the promontory by Knollsea Bay, to take in passengers for the
transit to Cherbourg. Breezes the freshest that could blow without
verging on keenness flew over the quivering deeps and shallows; and
the sunbeams pierced every detail of barrow, path and rabbit-run
upon the lofty convexity of down and waste which shut in Knollsea
from the world to the west.
They left the pier at eight o'clock, taking at first a short
easterly course to avoid a sinister ledge of limestones jutting from
the water like crocodile's teeth, which first obtained notoriety in
English history through being the spot whereon a formidable Danish
fleet went to pieces a thousand years ago. At the moment that the
Speedwell turned to enter upon the direct course, a schooner-yacht,
whose sheets gleamed like bridal satin, loosed from a remoter part
of the bay; continuing to bear off, she cut across the steamer's
wake, and took a course almost due southerly, which was precisely
that of the Speedwell. The wind was very favourable for the yacht,
blowing a few points from north in a steady pressure on her quarter,
and, having been built with every modern appliance that shipwrights
could offer, the schooner found no difficulty in getting abreast,
and even ahead, of the steamer, as soon as she had escaped the
shelter of the hills.
The more or less parallel courses of the vessels continued for some
time without causing any remark among the people on board the
Speedwell. At length one noticed the fact, and another; and then it
became the general topic of conversation in the group upon the
bridge, where Ethelberta, her hair getting frizzed and her cheeks
carnationed by the wind, sat upon a camp-stool looking towards the
prow.
'She is bound for Guernsey,' said one. 'In half-an-hour she will
put about for a more westerly course, you'll see.'
'She is not for Guernsey or anywhere that way,' said an
acquaintance, looking through his glass. 'If she is out for
anything more than a morning cruise, she is bound for our port. I
should not wonder if she is crossing to get stocked, as most of them
do, to save the duty on her wine and provisions.'
'Do you know whose yacht it is?'
'I do not.'
Ethelberta looked at the light leaning figure of the pretty
schooner, which seemed to skate along upon her bilge and make white
shavings of all the sea that touched her. She at first imagined
that this might be the yacht Neigh had arrived in at the end of the
previous week, for she knew that he came as one of a yachting party,
and she had noticed no other boat of that sort in the bay since his
arrival. But as all his party had gone ashore and not yet returned,
she was surprised to see the supposed vessel here. To add to her
perplexity, she could not be positive, now that it came to a real
nautical query, whether the craft of Neigh's friends had one mast or
two, for she had caught but a fragmentary view of the topsail over
the apple-trees.
'Is that the yacht which has been lying at Knollsea for the last few
days?' she inquired of the master of the Speedwell, as soon as she
had an opportunity.
The master warmed beneath his copper-coloured rind. 'O no, miss;
that one you saw was a cutter--a smaller boat altogether,' he
replied. 'Built on the sliding-keel principle, you understand,
miss--and red below her water-line, if you noticed. This is Lord
Mountclere's yacht--the Fawn. You might have seen her re'ching in
round Old-Harry Rock this morning afore we started.'
'Lord Mountclere's?'
'Yes--a nobleman of this neighbourhood. But he don't do so much at
yachting as he used to in his younger days. I believe he's aboard
this morning, however.'
Ethelberta now became more absorbed than ever in their ocean
comrade, and watched its motions continually. The schooner was
considerably in advance of them by this time, and seemed to be
getting by degrees out of their course. She wondered if Lord
Mountclere could be really going to Cherbourg: if so, why had he
said nothing about the trip to her when she spoke of her own
approaching voyage thither? The yacht changed its character in her
eyes; losing the indefinite interest of the unknown, it acquired the
charm of a riddle on motives, of which the alternatives were, had
Lord Mountclere's journey anything to do with her own, or had it
not? Common probability pointed to the latter supposition; but the
time of starting, the course of the yacht, and recollections of Lord
Mountclere's homage, suggested the more extraordinary possibility.
She went across to Cornelia. 'The man who handed us on board--
didn't I see him speaking to you this morning?' she said.
'O yes,' said Cornelia. 'He asked if my mistress was the popular
Mrs. Petherwin?
'And you told him, I suppose?'
'Yes.'
'What made you do that, Cornelia?'
'I thought I might: I couldn't help it. When I went through the
toll-gate, such a gentlemanly-looking man asked me if he should help
me to carry the things to the end of the pier; and as we went on
together he said he supposed me to be Mrs. Petherwin's maid. I
said, "Yes." The two men met afterwards, so there would ha' been no
good in my denying it to one of 'em.'
'Who was this gentlemanly person?'
'I asked the other man that, and he told me one of Lord Mountclere's
upper servants. I knew then there was no harm in having been civil
to him. He is well-mannered, and talks splendid language.'
'That yacht you see on our right hand is Lord Mountclere's property.
If I do not mistake, we shall have her closer by-and-by, and you may
meet your gentlemanly friend again. Be careful how you talk to
him.'
Ethelberta sat down, thought of the meeting at Corvsgate Castle, of
the dinner-party at Mr. Doncastle's, of the strange position she had
there been in, and then of her father. She suddenly reproached
herself for thoughtlessness; for in her pocket lay a letter from
him, which she had taken from the postman that morning at the moment
of coming from the door, and in the hurry of embarking had forgotten
ever since. Opening it quickly, she read:--
'MY DEAR ETHELBERTA,--Your letter reached me yesterday, and I called
round at Exonbury Crescent in the afternoon, as you wished.
Everything is going on right there, and you have no occasion to be
anxious about them. I do not leave town for another week or two,
and by the time I am gone Sol and Dan will have returned from Paris,
if your mother and Gwendoline want any help: so that you need not
hurry back on their account.
'I have something else to tell you, which is not quite so
satisfactory, and it is this that makes me write at once; but do not
be alarmed. It began in this way. A few nights after the dinner-
party here I was determined to find out if there was any truth in
what you had been told about that boy, and having seen Menlove go
out as usual after dark, I followed her. Sure enough, when she had
got into the park, up came master Joe, smoking a cigar. As soon as
they had met I went towards them, and Menlove, seeing somebody draw
nigh, began to edge off, when the blockhead said, "Never mind, my
love, it is only the old man." Being very provoked with both of
them, though she was really the most to blame, I gave him some smart
cuts across the shoulders with my cane, and told him to go home,
which he did with a flea in his ear, the rascal. I believe I have
cured his courting tricks for some little time.
'Well, Menlove then walked by me, quite cool, as if she were merely
a lady passing by chance at the time, which provoked me still more,
knowing the whole truth of it, and I could not help turning upon her
and saying, "You, madam, ought to be served the same way." She
replied in very haughty words, and I walked away, saying that I had
something better to do than argue with a woman of her character at
that hour of the evening. This so set her up that she followed me
home, marched into my pantry, and told me that if I had been more
careful about my manners in calling her a bad character, it might
have been better both for me and my stuck-up daughter--a daw in
eagle's plumes--and so on. Now it seems that she must have coaxed
something out of Joey about you--for what lad in the world could be
a match for a woman of her experience and arts! I hope she will do
you no serious damage; but I tell you the whole state of affairs
exactly as they are, that you may form your own opinions. After
all, there is no real disgrace, for none of us have ever done wrong,
but have worked honestly for a living. However, I will let you know
if anything serious really happens.'
This was all that her father said on the matter, the letter
concluding with messages to the children and directions from their
mother with regard to their clothes.
Ethelberta felt very distinctly that she was in a strait; the old
impression that, unless her position were secured soon, it never
would be secured, returned with great force. A doubt whether it was
worth securing would have been very strong ere this, had not others
besides herself been concerned in her fortunes. She looked up from
her letter, and beheld the pertinacious yacht; it led her up to a
conviction that therein lay a means and an opportunity.
Nothing further of importance occurred in crossing. Ethelberta's
head ached after a while, and Cornelia's healthy cheeks of red were
found to have diminished their colour to the size of a wafer and the
quality of a stain. The Speedwell entered the breakwater at
Cherbourg to find the schooner already in the roadstead; and by the
time the steamer was brought up Ethelberta could see the men on
board the yacht clewing up and making things snug in a way from
which she inferred that they were not going to leave the harbour
again that day. With the aspect of a fair galleon that could easily
out-manoeuvre her persevering buccaneer, Ethelberta passed
alongside. Could it be possible that Lord Mountclere had on her
account fixed this day for his visit across the Channel?
'Well, I would rather be haunted by him than by Mr. Neigh,' she
said; and began laying her plans so as to guard against inconvenient
surprises.
The next morning Ethelberta was at the railway station, taking
tickets for herself and Cornelia, when she saw an old yet sly and
somewhat merry-faced Englishman a little way off. He was attended
by a younger man, who appeared to be his valet.
'I will exchange one of these tickets,' she said to the clerk, and
having done so she went to Cornelia to inform her that it would
after all be advisable for them to travel separate, adding, 'Lord
Mountclere is in the station, and I think he is going on by our
train. Remember, you are my maid again now. Is not that the
gentlemanly man who assisted you yesterday?' She signified the
valet as she spoke.
'It is,' said Cornelia.
When the passengers were taking their seats, and Ethelberta was
thinking whether she might not after all enter a second-class with
Cornelia instead of sitting solitary in a first because of an old
man's proximity, she heard a shuffling at her elbow, and the next
moment found that he was overtly observing her as if he had not done
so in secret at all. She at once gave him an unsurprised gesture of
recognition. 'I saw you some time ago; what a singular
coincidence,' she said.
'A charming one,' said Lord Mountclere, smiling a half-minute smile,
and making as if he would take his hat off and would not quite.
'Perhaps we must not call it coincidence entirely,' he continued;
'my journey, which I have contemplated for some time, was not fixed
this week altogether without a thought of your presence on the road-
-hee-hee! Do you go far to-day?'
'As far as Caen,' said Ethelberta.
'Ah! That's the end of my day's journey, too,' said Lord
Mountclere. They parted and took their respective places, Lord
Mountclere choosing a compartment next to the one Ethelberta was
entering, and not, as she had expected, attempting to join her.
Now she had instantly fancied when the viscount was speaking that
there were signs of some departure from his former respectful manner
towards her; and an enigma lay in that. At their earlier meetings
he had never ventured upon a distinct coupling of himself and
herself as he had done in his broad compliment to-day--if compliment
it could be called. She was not sure that he did not exceed his
license in telling her deliberately that he had meant to hover near
her in a private journey which she was taking without reference to
him. She did not object to the act, but to the avowal of the act;
and, being as sensitive as a barometer on signs affecting her social
condition, it darted upon Ethelberta for one little moment that he
might possibly have heard a word or two about her being nothing more
nor less than one of a tribe of thralls; hence his freedom of
manner. Certainly a plain remark of that sort was exactly what a
susceptible peer might be supposed to say to a pretty woman of far
inferior degree. A rapid redness filled her face at the thought
that he might have smiled upon her as upon a domestic whom he was
disposed to chuck under the chin. 'But no,' she said. 'He would
never have taken the trouble to follow and meet with me had he
learnt to think me other than a lady. It is extremity of devotion--
that's all.'
It was not Ethelberta's inexperience, but that her conception of
self precluded such an association of ideas, which led her to
dismiss the surmise that his attendance could be inspired by a
motive beyond that of paying her legitimate attentions as a co-
ordinate with him and his in the social field. Even if he only
meant flirtation, she read it as of that sort from which courtship
with an eye to matrimony differs only in degree. Hence, she
thought, his interest in her was not likely, under the ordinary
influences of caste feeling, to continue longer than while he was
kept in ignorance of her consanguinity with a stock proscribed. She
sighed at the anticipated close of her full-feathered towering when
her ties and bonds should be uncovered. She might have seen matters
in a different light, and sighed more. But in the stir of the
moment it escaped her thought that ignorance of her position, and a
consequent regard for her as a woman of good standing, would have
prevented his indulgence in any course which was open to the
construction of being disrespectful.
Valognes, Carentan, Isigny, Bayeux, were passed, and the train drew
up at Caen. Ethelberta's intention had been to stay here for one
night, but having learnt from Lord Mountclere, as previously
described, that this was his destination, she decided to go on. On
turning towards the carriage after a few minutes of promenading at
the Caen station, she was surprised to perceive that Lord
Mountclere, who had alighted as if to leave, was still there.
They spoke again to each other. 'I find I have to go further,' he
suddenly said, when she had chatted with him a little time. And
beckoning to the man who was attending to his baggage, he directed
the things to be again placed in the train.
Time passed, and they changed at the next junction. When Ethelberta
entered a carriage on the branch line to take her seat for the
remainder of the journey, there sat the viscount in the same
division. He explained that he was going to Rouen.
Ethelberta came to a quick resolution. Her audacity, like that of a
child getting nearer and nearer a parent's side, became wonderfully
vigorous as she approached her destination; and though there were
three good hours of travel to Rouen as yet, the heavier part of the
journey was past. At her aunt's would be a safe refuge, play what
pranks she might, and there she would to-morrow meet those bravest
of defenders Sol and Dan, to whom she had sent as much money as she
could conveniently spare towards their expenses, with directions
that they were to come by the most economical route, and meet her at
the house of her aunt, Madame Moulin, previous to their educational
trip to Paris, their own contribution being the value of the week's
work they would have to lose. Thus backed up by Sol and Dan, her
aunt, and Cornelia, Ethelberta felt quite the reverse of a lonely
female persecuted by a wicked lord in a foreign country. 'He shall
pay for his weaknesses, whatever they mean,' she thought; 'and what
they mean I will find out at once.'
'I am going to Paris,' she said.
'You cannot to-night, I think.'
'To-morrow, I mean.'
'I should like to go on to-morrow. Perhaps I may. So that there is
a chance of our meeting again.'
'Yes; but I do not leave Rouen till the afternoon. I first shall go
to the cathedral, and drive round the city.'
Lord Mountclere smiled pleasantly. There seemed a sort of
encouragement in her words. Ethelberta's thoughts, however, had
flown at that moment to the approaching situation at her aunt's
hotel: it would be extremely embarrassing if he should go there.
'Where do you stay, Lord Mountclere?' she said.
Thus directly asked, he could not but commit himself to the name of
the hotel he had been accustomed to patronize, which was one in the
upper part of the city.
'Mine is not that one,' said Ethelberta frigidly.
No further remark was made under this head, and they conversed for
the remainder of the daylight on scenery and other topics, Lord
Mountclere's air of festivity lending him all the qualities of an
agreeable companion. But notwithstanding her resolve, Ethelberta
failed, for that day at least, to make her mind clear upon Lord
Mountclere's intentions. To that end she would have liked first to
know what were the exact limits set by society to conduct under
present conditions, if society had ever set any at all, which was
open to question: since experience had long ago taught her that
much more freedom actually prevails in the communion of the sexes
than is put on paper as etiquette, or admitted in so many words as
correct behaviour. In short, everything turned upon whether he had
learnt of her position when off the platform at Mayfair Hall.
Wearied with these surmises, and the day's travel, she closed her
eyes. And then her enamoured companion more widely opened his, and
traced the beautiful features opposite him. The arch of the brows--
like a slur in music--the droop of the lashes, the meeting of the
lips, and the sweet rotundity of the chin--one by one, and all
together, they were adored, till his heart was like a retort full of
spirits of wine.
It was a warm evening, and when they arrived at their journey's end
distant thunder rolled behind heavy and opaque clouds. Ethelberta
bade adieu to her attentive satellite, called to Cornelia, and
entered a cab; but before they reached the inn the thunder had
increased. Then a cloud cracked into flame behind the iron spire of
the cathedral, showing in relief its black ribs and stanchions, as
if they were the bars of a blazing cresset held on high.
'Ah, we will clamber up there to-morrow,' said Ethelberta.
A wondrous stillness pervaded the streets of the city after this,
though it was not late; and their arrival at M. Moulin's door was
quite an event for the quay. No rain came, as they had expected,
and by the time they halted the western sky had cleared, so that the
newly-lit lamps on the quay, and the evening glow shining over the
river, inwove their harmonious rays as the warp and woof of one
lustrous tissue. Before they had alighted there appeared from the
archway Madame Moulin in person, followed by the servants of the
hotel in a manner signifying that they did not receive a visitor
once a fortnight, though at that moment the clatter of sixty knives,
forks, and tongues was audible through an open window from the
adjoining dining-room, to the great interest of a group of idlers
outside. Ethelberta had not seen her aunt since she last passed
through the town with Lady Petherwin, who then told her that this
landlady was the only respectable relative she seemed to have in the
world.
Aunt Charlotte's face was an English outline filled in with French
shades under the eyes, on the brows, and round the mouth, by the
natural effect of years; she resembled the British hostess as little
as well could be, no point in her causing the slightest suggestion
of drops taken for the stomach's sake. Telling the two young women
she would gladly have met them at the station had she known the hour
of their arrival, she kissed them both without much apparent notice
of a difference in their conditions; indeed, seeming rather to
incline to Cornelia, whose country face and homely style of clothing
may have been more to her mind than Ethelberta's finished
travelling-dress, a class of article to which she appeared to be
well accustomed. Her husband was at this time at the head of the
table-d'hote, and mentioning the fact as an excuse for his non-
appearance, she accompanied them upstairs.
After the strain of keeping up smiles with Lord Mountclere, the
rattle and shaking, and the general excitements of the chase across
the water and along the rail, a face in which she saw a dim reflex
of her mother's was soothing in the extreme, and Ethelberta went up
to the staircase with a feeling of expansive thankfulness. Cornelia
paused to admire the clean court and the small caged birds sleeping
on their perches, the boxes of veronica in bloom, of oleander, and
of tamarisk, which freshened the air of the court and lent a romance
to the lamplight, the cooks in their paper caps and white blouses
appearing at odd moments from an Avernus behind; while the prompt
'v'la!' of teetotums in mob caps, spinning down the staircase in
answer to the periodic clang of bells, filled her with wonder, and
pricked her conscience with thoughts of how seldom such transcendent
nimbleness was attempted by herself in a part so nearly similar.
