The Courtship of Morrice Buckler: A Romance

  CHAPTER VIII.

  I MAKE A BOW TO COUNTESS LUKSTEIN.

  In London I engaged a commodious lodging on the south side of St.James' Park, and with little delay, you may be sure, sought out mycousin in Monmouth, or rather Soho, Square--for the name had beenaltered since the execution of the Duke. 'Twas some half an hour afternoon, and my cousin, but newly out of bed, was breakfasting upon abottle of Burgundy in his nightcap and dressing-gown.

  "So you have come, Morrice," said Elmscott languidly. "How do ye? LordCulverton, this is my cousin of whom I have spoken."

  He turned towards a little popinjay man who was fluttering about theroom in a laced coat, and powdered periwig which hung so full abouthis face that it was difficult to distinguish any feature beyond athin, prominent nose.

  "You should know one another. For if you remember, Morrice, it wasCulverton you robbed of Ph[oe]be."

  "Ph[oe]be?" simpered Lord Culverton. "I remember no Ph[oe]be. But intruth the pretty creatures pester one so impertinently that burn me ifI don't jumble up their names. What was she like, Mr. Buckler?"

  "She was piebald," said I gravely, "and needed cudgelling before shewould walk."

  "And Morrice killed her," added Elmscott, with a laugh.

  "Then he did very well to kill her, strike me speechless! But theremust be some mistake. I have met many women who needed cudgellingbefore they would walk, but never one that was piebald."

  Elmscott explained the matter to him, and then, with some timidity, Ibegan to inquire concerning the Countess Lukstein.

  "What! bitten already?" cried my cousin. "Faith, I knew not I had sosmart a hand for description."

  "The most rapturous female, pink me!" broke in Lord Culverton. "She isbut newly come to London, and hath the town at her feet already. Egad!I'm half-soused in love myself, split my windpipe!" and he flicked aspeck of powder from his velvet coat, and carefully arranged the curlsof his periwig. "The most provoking creature!" he went on. "A widowwithout a widow's on-coming disposition."

  "Ay, but she hath discarded the weeds," said Elmscott

  "She is a widow none the less. And yet breathe but one word of tenderadoration in her ear, and she strikes you dumb, O Lard! with the mostsupercilious eyebrow. However, time may do much with the obstinatedear--time, a tolerable phrase, and a _je ne scay quoi_ in one'sperson and conversation." He pointed a skinny leg before the mirror,and languished with a ludicrous extravagance at his own reflection.

  I had much ado to restrain myself from laughing, the more especiallywhen Elmscott cried, with a wink at me:

  "Oh, if you have entered the lists, the rest of us may creep out withas little ignominy as we can. They say that every pretty woman has adevil at her elbow, and 'tis most true, so long as Culverton lives."

  "You flatter me! A devil, indeed! You flatter me," replied the fop,skipping with delight. "You positively flatter me. The ladies useme--no more. I am only their humble servant in general, and theCountess Lukstein's in particular."

  The remark had more truth in it than Culverton would have cared for usto believe. For the Countess did in very truth use this gossipytittle-tattler, and with no more consideration than she showed to thehumblest of her servants. However, he was born for naught else but tofetch and carry, and since he delighted in the work, 'twas commonkindness to employ him.

  "Then we'll drink a health to your success," says Elmscott, pouringout three glasses of his Burgundy.

  "I never drink in the morning," objected Culverton. "'Tis a mostvillainous habit, and ruins the complexion irretrievably, stap myvitals!"

  However, I was less squeamish on the subject of mine, and draining theglass, I asked:

  "Is she come to London alone?"

  "She hath a companion, a very faded, nauseous person: a Frenchwoman,Mademoiselle Durette. She serves as a foil;" and Culverton launchedforth into an affected estimation of Countess Lukstein's charms. Hereyes dethroned the planets, the brightness of her hair shamed thesunlight; for her mouth, 'twas a Cupid's bow that shot a deadly arrowwith every word. When she danced, her foot was a snow-flake upon thefloor, and the glint of the buckle on her instep, a flame threateningto melt it; when she played upon the harp, her fingers were the ivoryplectrums of the ancients.

  "You make me curious," I interrupted him, "to become acquainted withthe lady."

  "Then let me present you!" said he eagerly.

  "You see, Morrice," said Elmscott, "he has such solid grounds forconfidence that he has no fear of rivals."

  "Nay, the truth is, she has a passion for fresh faces."

  "Indeed!" said I.

  "Oh, most extraordinary! A veritable passion, and no one so graciouslyreceived as he who brings a stranger to her side. For that reason," headded naively, "I would fain present you;" and then he suddenlystopped and surveyed me, shaking his head doubtfully the while.

  "But Lard! Mr. Buckler," he said, "you must first get some newclothes."

  "The clothes are good enough," I laughed, for I was dressed in my bestsuit, and though 'twas something more modest than my Lord Culverton'sattire, I was none the less pleased with it on that account.

  "Rabbit me, but I daren't!" he said. "I daren't introduce you in thatsuit. I daren't, indeed! My character would never survive theimputation, strike me purple if it would! 'Tis a very yeoman's habit,and reeks of the country. I can smell onions and all sorts of horriblethings, burn me!"

  "I will run the risk, Morrice," interposed Elmscott. "Dine with meto-day at Lockett's, and I will take you to the Countess' lodging inPall Mall afterwards. But Culverton's right. You do look like aQuaker, and that's the truth."

  However, I paid little attention to what they said or thoughtconcerning my appearance. The knowledge that I was to meet CountessLukstein and have speech with her no later than that very evening,engendered within me an indescribable excitement. I got free from mycompanions as speedily as I could, and passed the hours tilldinnertime in a vague expectancy; though what it was that I expected,I could not have told even to myself.

  About seven of the clock we repaired to her apartments. The rooms werealready filled with a gay crowd of ladies and gentlemen dressed in theextreme of fashion, and at first I could get no glimpse of theCountess. But I looked towards the spot where the throng was thickest,and the tripping noise of pleasantries most loud, and then I saw her.Elmscott advanced; I followed close upon his heels, the circle opened,magically it seemed to me, and I stood face to face with her at last.

  Yet for all that I was prepared for it, now that I beheld her but sixsteps from me, now that I looked straight into her eyes, a strangesense of unreality stole over me, dimming my brain like a mist; soincredible did it appear to me that we who had met before in such atragic conjunction in that far-away nook of the Tyrol, should now bepresented each to the other like the merest strangers, amidst thebrightness and gaiety of London town. I almost expected the candles togo out, and the company to dissolve into air. I almost began to dreadthat I should wake up in a moment to find myself in the dark, crouchedup upon my bed in Cumberland. So powerfully did this fear possess methat I was on the point of crying aloud, "Speak! speak!" when Elmscotttook me by the arm.

  "Madame," said he, "I have taken the liberty of bringing hither mycousin, Mr. Morrice Buckler, who is anxious--as who is not?--for thehonour of your acquaintance."

  "It is no liberty," she replied graciously, in a voice that wasexquisitely sweet, and she let her eyes fall upon my face with a quickand watchful scrutiny.

  The next instant, however, the alertness died out of them.

  "Mr. Buckler is very welcome," she said quietly, and it struck me thatthere was some hint of disappointment in her tone, and maybe a touchof weariness. If, indeed, what Culverton had said was true, and shehad a passion for fresh faces, 'twas evident that mine was to beexempted from the rule.

  It might have been the expression of her indifference, or perchancethe mere sound of her voice broke the spell upon me, but all at once Ibec
ame sensible to the full of my sober, sad-coloured clothes. Ilooked about me. Coats and dresses brilliant with gold and brocademingled their colours in a flashing rainbow, jewels sparkled andwinked as they caught the light, and I felt that every eye in thiscircle of elegant courtiers was fixed disdainfully upon the awkwardintruder.

  I faltered through a compliment, conscious the while that I had donebetter to have held my tongue. I heard a titter behind me, and hereand there some fine lady or gentleman held a quizzing-glass to theeye, as though I was some strange natural from over-seas. All theblood in my body seemed to run tingling into my face. I half turned toflee away and take to my heels, but a second glance at the sneeringcountenances around me stung my pride into wakefulness, and resolvingto put the best face on the matter I could, I attempted a sweepingbow. Whether my foot slipped, whether some one tripped me purposelywith a sword, I know not--I was too flustered to think at the time orto remember afterwards--but whatever the cause, I found myself plumpeddown upon my knees before her, with the titter changed into an openlaugh.

  "Hush!" lisped one of the bystanders, "don't disturb the gentleman; heis saying his prayers."

  I rose to my feet in the greatest confusion.

  "Madame," I stammered, "I come to my knees no earlier than the rest ofyour acquaintance. Only being country-bred, I do it with the lessdiscretion."

  She laughed with a charming friendliness which lifted me somewhat outof my humiliation.

  "The adroitness of the recovery, Mr. Buckler," she said, "more thanatones for the maladresse of the attack."

  "Nay," I protested, with what may well have appeared excessiveearnestness, "the simile does me some injustice, for it hints of anantagonism betwixt you and me."

  She glanced at me with some surprise and more amusement in her eyes.

  "Are not all men a woman's antagonists?" she said lightly.

  But to me it seemed an ill-omened beginning. There was something tooapposite in her chance phrase. I remembered, besides, that I hadstumbled to the ground in much the same way before her husband, and Ibethought me what had come of the slip.

  'Twas but for a little, however, that these gloomy forebodingspossessed me, and I retired to the outer edge of the throng, whence Icould observe her motions and gestures undisturbed. And with a growingcontentment I perceived that ever and again her eyes would straytowards me, and she would drop some question into Elmscott's ear.

  The Countess wore, I remember, a gown of purple velvet fronted withyellow satin, which to my eyes hung a trifle heavily upon her youngfigure and so emphasized its slenderness, imparting even to her neckand head a certain graceful fragility. The rich colour of her hair washidden beneath a mask of powder after the fashion, and below it herface shone pale, pale indeed as when I saw her last, but with awonderful clarity and pureness of complexion, so that as she spoke theblood came and went very prettily about her cheeks and temples. Thetwo attributes, however, which I noted with the greatest admirationwere her eyes and voice. For it seemed to me well-nigh beyond beliefthat the eyes which I now saw flashing with so lively a fire were thesame which had stared vacantly into mine at Lukstein Castle, and thatthe voice which I now heard musical with all the notes of laughter wasthat which had sent the shrill, awful scream tearing the night.

  After a while the company sat down to basset and quadrille, and I wasleft standing disconsolately by myself. I looked around for Elmscott,being minded to depart, when her voice sounded at my elbow, and Iforgot all but the sweetness of it.

  "Mr. Buckler," she asked, "you do not play?"

  "No," I replied. "I have seen but little of either cards or dice, andthat little has given me no liking for them."

  "Then I will make bold to claim your services, for the room is hot,and my ears, perchance, a little tired."

  'Twas with no small pride, you may be sure, that I gave my arm to theCountess; only I could have wished that she had laid her hand lessdelicately upon my sleeve. Indeed, I should hardly have known that itrested there at all had I not felt its touch more surely on thestrings of my heart.

  We went into a smaller apartment at the end of the room, which wasdimly lit, and very cool and peaceful. The window stood open andshowed a little balcony with a couch. The Countess seated herself uponit with a sigh of relief, and leaning forward, plucked a sprig offlowers which grew in a pot at her side.

  "I love these flowers," said she, holding the spray towards me.

  'Twas the blue flower of the aconite plant, and I answered:

  "They remind you of your home."

  "Then you know the Tyrol, and have travelled there." She turned to mewith a lively interest.

  "I learnt that much of botany at school."

  "There should be a fellow-feeling between us, Mr. Buckler," she saidafter a pause; "for we are both strangers to London, waifs throwntogether for an hour."

  "But there is a world of difference, for you might have lived amongstthese gallants all your days, while I, alas! have no skill even tohide my awkwardness."

  "Nay, no excuses, for I like you the better for the lack of thatskill."

  "Madame," I began, "such words from you----"

  She turned to me with a whimsical entreaty.

  "Prithee, no! To tell the honest truth, I am surfeited withcompliments, and 'twould give me a great pleasure if during these fewminutes we are together you would style me neither nymph, divinity,nor angel, but would treat me as just a woman. The fashion, indeed, isnot worth copying, the more especially when, to quote your own phrase,one copies it without discretion."

  She laughed pleasantly as she spake, and the words conveyed not somuch a rebuke as the amiable raillery of an intimate.

  "'Tis true," I replied, "I do envy these townsmen. I envy them theirgrace of bearing and the nimbleness of their wits, which ever remindsme of the sparkle in a bottle of Rhenish wine."

  She shook her head, and made room for me by her side.

  "The bottle has stood open for me these two months since, and I beginto find the wine is very flat."

  She dropped her voice at the end of the sentence, and leaned wearilyback upon the cushions.

  "You see, Mr. Buckler," she explained, "I live amongst the hills," andthere was a certain wistfulness in her tone as of one home-sick.

  "Then there is a second bond between us, for I live amongst the hillsas well."

  "It is that," said she, "which makes us friends," and just for asecond she laid a hand upon my sleeve. It seemed to me that no manever heard sweeter words or more sweetly spoken from the lips ofwoman.

  "But since you are here," I questioned eagerly, "you will stay--youwill stay for a little?"

  "I know not," she replied, smiling at my urgency; and then with acertain sadness, "some day I shall go back, I hope, but when, I knownot. It might be in a week, it might be in a year, it might be never."Of a sudden she gave a low cry of pain. "I daren't go home," shecried, "I daren't until--until----"

  "Until you have forgotten." The words were on the tip of my tongue,but I caught them back in time, and for a while we sat silent. TheCountess appeared to grow all unconscious of my presence, and gazedsteadily down the quiet street as though it stretched beyond andbeyond in an avenue of leagues, and she could see waving at the end ofit the cedars and pine-trees of her Tyrol.

  Nor was I in any hurry to arouse her. A noisy rattle of voicesstreamed out on a flood of yellow light from the further windows on myleft, and here she and I were alone in the starlit dusk of a summernight. Her very silence was sweet to me with the subtlest offlatteries. For I looked upon it as the recognition of a tie ofsympathy which raised me from the general throng of her courtiers intothe narrow circle of her friends.

  So I sat and watched her. The pure profile of her face was outlinedagainst the night, the perfume of her hair stole into my nostrils, andevery now and then her warm breath played upon my cheek. A fold of hertrain had fallen across my ankle, and the soft touch of the velvetthrilled me like a caress; I dared not move a muscle for fear lest Ishould displace i
t.

  At length she spoke again--'twas almost in a whisper.

  "I have told you more about myself than I have told to any one since Icame to England. It is your turn now. Tell me where lies your home!"

  "In the north. In Cumberland."

  "In--in Cumberland," she repeated, with a little catch of her breath."You have lived there long?"

  "'Twas the home of my fathers, and I spent my boyhood there. Butbetween that time and this year's spring I have been a stranger to thecountryside. For I was first for some years at Oxford, and thence Iwent to Leyden."

  She rose abruptly from the couch, drawing her train clear of me withher hand, and leaned over the balcony, resting her elbow on itsbaluster, and propping her chin upon the palm of her hand.

  "Leyden!" she said carelessly. "'Tis a town of great beauty, they tellme, and much visited by English students."

  "There were but few English students there during the months of myresidence," said I. "I could have wished there had been more."

  A second period of silence interrupted our talk, and I sat wonderingover that catch in her breath and the tremor of her voice when sherepeated "Cumberland." Was it possible, I asked myself, that she couldhave learnt of Sir Julian Harnwood and of his quarrel with herhusband? If she did know, and if she attributed the duel in which herhusband fell to a result of it, why, then--Cumberland was Julian'scounty, and the name might well strike with some pain upon herhearing. But who could have informed her? Not the Count, surely; 'twashardly a matter of which a man could boast to his wife. I remembered,besides, that he had asked me to speak English, and to speak it low.There could have been but one motive for the request--a desire to keepthe subject of our conversation a secret from the Countess.

  I glanced towards her. Without changing her attitude she had turnedher head sideways upon her palm, and was quietly looking me over fromhead to foot. Then she rose erect, and with a frank and winning smile,she said, as if in explanation:

  "I was seeking to discover, Mr. Buckler, what it was in you that hadbeguiled me to forget the rest of my guests. However, if I have shownthem but scant courtesy, I shall bid them reproach you, not me."

  "Prithee, madame, no! Have some pity on me! The statement would get mea thousand deadly enemies."

  "Hush!" said she, with a playful menace. "You go perilous near to acompliment;" and we went back into the glare and noise of thedrawing-room.

  "Ah, Ilga! I have missed you this half-hour."

  'Twas a little woman of, I should say, forty years who bustled up tous on our entrance.

  "You see?" said the Countess, turning to me with a whimsical reproach."You must blame Mr. Buckler, Clemence, and I will make you acquaintedthat you may have the occasion."

  She presented me thus to Mademoiselle Durette, and left us together.But I fear the good woman must have found me the poorest company, forI paid little heed to what she said, and carried away no recollectionbeyond that her chatter wearied me intolerably, and that once or twiceI caught the word "convenances," whence I gather she was reading me alecture.

  I got rid of her as soon as I decently could, and took my leave of theCountess. She gave me her hand, and I bent over and kissed it. 'Twasonly the glove I kissed, but the hand was within the glove, as I hadreason to know, for I felt it tremble within my fingers and then tugquickly away.

  "One compliment I will allow you to pay me," she said, "and that is arenewal of your visit."

  "Madame permits," I exclaimed joyfully.

  "Madame will be much beholden to you," says she, and drops me amocking curtsey.

  I walked down the staircase in a prodigious elation. Six steps fromthe floor of the hall it made a curve, and as I turned at the angle Istopped dead of a sudden with my heart leaping within my breast. Forat the foot of the stairs, and looking at me now straight in the face,as he had looked at me in the archway of Bristol Bridewell, I saw OttoKrax, the servant of Count Lukstein. The unexpected sight of hismassive figure came upon me like a blow. I had forgotten himcompletely. I staggered back into the angle of the wall. He must knowme, I thought. He _must_ know me. But he gazed with no more than thestolid attention of a lackey. There was not a trace of recognition inhis face, not a start of his muscles; and then I remembered thedifference in my garb. 'Twould have been strange indeed if he hadknown me.

  I recovered my composure, drew a long breath of relief, and was aboutto step down to him when I happened to glance up the stairway.

  The Countess herself was leaning over the rail at its head, with thelight from the hall-lamp below streaming up into her face. I had notheard her come out on the landing.

  "I knew not whether Otto Krax was there to let you out" She smiled atme. "Good night!"

  "Good night," said I, and looking at Otto, I understood whence shemight have got some knowledge of Sir Julian Harnwood.

  Once outside, I stood for a while loitering in front of the house, andwondering how much 'twould cost to buy it up. For I believed that itwould be a degradation should any other woman lodge in those samerooms afterwards.

  In a few minutes Elmscott came out to me.

  "You have seen the Countess Lukstein before?" he asked, and the wordsfairly startled me.

  "What in Heaven's name makes you think that?"

  "I fancied I read it in your looks. Your eyes went straight to herbefore ever I presented you."

  "That proves no more than the merit of your description."

  "Well, did I exaggerate? What think you?"

  I drew a long breath. 'Twas the only description I could give. Therewere no words in the language equal to my thoughts.

  "That will suffice," said Elmscott, and he turned away.

  "One moment," I cried. "I need a service of you."

  He burst out into a laugh.

  "A thousand pounds to a guinea I know the service. 'Tis the address ofmy tailor you need. I saw you looking down at your clothes as thoughthe wearing of them sullied you. Very well, one of my servants shallbe with you in the morning with a complete list of my tradesmen." Andhe swung off in the direction of Piccadilly, laughing as he went,while I, filled with all sorts of romantical notions, walked back tomy lodging. Though, indeed, to say that I walked, falls somewhat shortof the truth; to speak by the book, I fairly scampered, and arrivedbreathless at my doorstep.

  My servants had unpacked my baggage, and with a momentary pang ofmisgiving, I observed, lying on the table, my ill-omened copy ofHorace.

  "How comes this here?" I inquired sharply of Udal, taking the book inmy hands.

  It opened at once at the diagram, and the date upon the leaf opposite.So often had this outline been scanned and examined that the merestfingering of the cover served to make the book fall open at thisparticular page. I doubt, indeed, whether it had been possible to liftor move the volume at all without noticing the diagram.

  Udal told me that Jack himself had placed the book in my trunk. Heintended it as a hint for my conduct, I made certain, and, newly comeas I was from the presence of Countess Lukstein, I felt no gratitudefor his interference. I tossed the book on to a side-table by thechimney, where it lay henceforward forgotten, and proceeded to lightmy pipe.

  'Twas late when I mounted to my bedroom. The moon was in its lastquarter, and the park which my window overlooked lay very fair andquiet in the soft light. What nonsense does a man con over and ponderat such times! Yet 'tis very pleasant nonsense, and though it keepshim out of bed o' nights, he may yet draw good from it--ay, and moregood than from quartos of philosophy.