CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE DERBY.
Hornby was lying on his back on the sofa in the window and looking out.He had sent for Charles, and Charles was standing beside him; but he hadnot noticed him yet. In a minute Charles said, "You sent for me, sir."
Hornby turned sharply round. "By Jove, yes," he said, looking straightat him; "Lord Welter is married."
Charles did not move a muscle, and Hornby looked disappointed. Charlesonly said--
"May I ask who she is, sir?"
"She is a Miss Summers. Do you know anything of her?"
Charles knew Miss Summers quite well by sight--had attended her whileriding, in fact. A statement which, though strictly true, misled Hornbymore than fifty lies.
"Handsome?"
"Remarkably so. Probably the handsomest (he was going to say 'girl,' butsaid 'lady') I ever saw in my life."
"H'm!" and he sat silent a moment, and gave Charles time to think. "I amglad he has married her, and before to-morrow, too."
"Well," said Hornby again, "we shall go down in the drag to-morrow.Ferrers will drive, he says. I suppose he had better; he drives betterthan I. Make the other two lads come in livery, but come in blacktrousers yourself. Wear your red waistcoat; you can button your coatover it, if it is necessary."
"Shall I wear my cockade, sir?"
"Yes; that won't matter. Can you fight?"
Charles said to himself, "I suppose we shall be in Queer Streetto-morrow, then;" but he rather liked the idea. "I used to like it,"said he aloud. "I don't think I care about it now. Last year, at Oxford,I and three other University men, three Pauls and a Brazenose, had anoble stramash on Folly-bridge. That is the last fighting I have seen."
"What College were you at?" said Hornby, looking out at the window;"Brazenose?"
"Paul's," said Charles without thinking.
"Then you are the man Welter was telling me about--Charles Ravenshoe."
Charles saw it was no good to fence, and said, "Yes."
"By Jove," said Hornby, "yours is a sad story. You must have ridden outwith Lady Welter more than once, I take it."
"Are you going to say anything to Lord Welter, sir?"
"Not I. I like you too well to lose you. You will stick by me, won'tyou?"
"I will," said Charles, "to the death. But oh, Hornby, for any sake mindthose d----d bones!"
"I will. But don't be an ass: I don't play half as much as you think."
"You are playing with Welter now, sir; are you not?"
"You are a pretty dutiful sort of a groom, I don't think," said Hornby,looking round and laughing good-naturedly. "What the dickens do you meanby cross-questioning me like that? Yes, I am. There--and for a noblepurpose too."
Charles said no more, but was well pleased enough. If Hornby had onlygiven him a little more of his confidence!
"I suppose," said Hornby, "if Haphazard don't win to-morrow, Lord Ascotwill be a beggar."
"They say," said Charles, "that he has backed his own horse throughthick and thin, sir. It is inconceivable folly; but things could not beworse at Ranford, and he stands to win some sum on the horse, as theysay, which would put everything right; and the horse is a favourite."
"Favourites never win," said Hornby; "and I don't think that Lord Ascothas so much on him as they say."
So the next day they went to the Derby. Sir Robert Ferrer, of the Guardsdrove (this is Inkerman Bob, and he has got a patent cork leg now, anda Victoria Cross, and goes a-shooting on a grey cob); and there was RedMaclean, on furlough from India; and there was Lord Swansea, youngest ofexisting Guardsmen, who blew a horn, and didn't blow it at all well; andthere were two of Lieutenant Hornby's brother-officers, besides theLieutenant: and behind, with Hornby's two grooms and our own Charles,dressed in sober black, was little Dick Ferrers, of the Home Office, whocarried a peashooter, and pea-shot the noses of the leading horses of adragful of Plungers, which followed them--which thing, had he been inthe army, he wouldn't have dared to do. And the Plungers swore, and thedust flew, and the wind blew, and Sir Robert drove, and Charles laughed,and Lord Swansea gave them a little music, and away they went to theDerby.
When they came on the course, Charles and his fellow-servants had enoughto do to get the horses out and see after them. After nearly an hour'sabsence he got back to the drag, and began to look about him.
The Plungers had drawn up behind them, and were lolling about. Beforethem was a family party--a fine elderly gentleman, a noble elderly lady,and two uncommonly pretty girls; and they were enjoying themselves. Theywere too well bred to make a noise; but there was a subdued babblingsound of laughter in that carriage, which was better music than that ofa little impish German who, catching Charles's eye, played the accordionand waltzed before him, as did Salome before Herod, but with a differenteffect.
The carriage beyond that was a very handsome one, and in it sat a ladymost beautifully dressed, alone. By the step of the carriage were acrowd of men--Hornby, Hornby's brother-officers, Sir Robert Ferrers, andeven little Dick Ferrers. Nay, there was a Plunger there; and they wereall talking and laughing at the top of their voices.
Charles, goose as he was, used to be very fond of Dickens's novels. Heused to say that almost everywhere in those novels you came across asketch, may be unconnected with the story, as bold and true andbeautiful as those chalk sketches of Raphael in the Taylor--scratcheswhich, when once seen, you could never forget any more. And, as helooked at that lady in the carriage, he was reminded of one of Dickens'smaster-pieces in that way, out of the "Old Curiosity Shop"--of a ladysitting in a carriage all alone at the races, who bought Nell's poorflowers, and bade her go home and stay there, for God's sake.
Her back was towards him, of course; yet he guessed she was beautiful."She is a fast woman, God help her!" said he; and he determined to goand look at her.
He sauntered past the carriage, and turned to look at her. It wasAdelaide.
As faultlessly beautiful as ever, but ah--how changed! The winningpetulance, so charming in other days, was gone from that face for ever.Hard, stern, proud, defiant, she sat there upright, alone. Fallen fromthe society of all women of her own rank, she knew--who better?--thatnot one of those men chattering around her would have borne to see herin the company of his sister, viscountess though she were, countess andmother of earls as she would be. They laughed, and lounged, and jokedbefore her; and she tolerated them, and cast her gibes hither andthither among them, bitterly and contemptuously. It was her firstappearance in the world. She had been married three days.
Not a woman would speak to her: Lord Welter had coarsely told her sothat morning; and bitterness and hatred were in her heart. It was forthis she had bartered honour and good fame. She had got her title, flungto her as a bone to a dog by Welter; but her social power, for which shehad sold herself, was lower, far lower, than when she was poor AdelaideSummers.
It is right that it should be so, as a rule; in her case it was doublyright.
Charles knew all this well enough. And at the first glance at her facehe knew that "the iron had entered into her soul" (I know no betterexpression), and he was revenged. He had ceased to love her, but revengeis sweet--to some.
Not to him. When he looked at her, he would have given his life that shemight smile again, though she was no more to him what she had been. Heturned, for fear of being seen, saying to himself,--
"Poor girl! Poor dear Adelaide! She must lie on the bed she has made.God help her!"
Haphazard was the first favourite--_facile princeps_. He was at two anda half to one. Bill Sykes, at three and a half, was a very dangeroushorse. Then came Carnarvon, Lablache, Lick-pitcher, Ivanhoe, Ben Caunt,Bath-bun, Hamlet, Allfours, and Colonel Sibthorp. The last of these wasat twenty to one. Ben Caunt was to make the running for Haphazard, sothey said; and Colonel Sibthorp for Bill Sykes.
So he heard the men talking round Lady Welter's carriage. Hornby's voicewas as loud as any one's, and a pleasant voice it was; but they none ofthem talked very low. Charles could
hear every word.
"I am afraid Lady Welter will never forgive me," said Hornby, "but Ihave bet against the favourite."
"I beg your pardon," said Adelaide.
"I have bet against your horse, Lady Welter."
"My horse?" said Adelaide, coolly and scornfully. "My horses are allpost-horses, hired for the day to bring me here. I hope none of them areengaged in the races, as I shall have to go home with a pair only, andthen I shall be disgraced for ever."
"I mean Haphazard."
"Oh, that horse?" said Adelaide; "that is Lord Ascot's horse, not mine.I hope you may win. You ought to win something, oughtn't you? Welter haswon a great deal from you, I believe."
The facts were the other way. But Hornby said no more to her. She wasglad of this, though she liked him well enough, for she hoped that shehad offended him by her insolent manner. But they were atcross-purposes.
Presently Lord Welter came swinging in among them; he looked terriblysavage and wild, and Charles thought he had been drinking. Knowing whathe was in this mood, and knowing also the mood Adelaide was in, hedreaded some scene. "But they cannot quarrel so soon," he thought.
"How d'ye do?" said Lord Welter to the knot of men round his wife'scarriage. "Lady Welter, have your people got any champagne, or anythingof that sort?"
"I suppose so; you had better ask them."
She had not forgotten what he had said to her that morning so brutally.She saw he was madly angry, and would have liked to make him commithimself before these men. She had fawned, and wheedled, and flatteredfor a month; but now she was Lady Welter, and he should feel it.
Lord Welter looked still more savage, but said nothing. A man broughthim some wine; and, as he gave it to him, Adelaide said, as quietly asthough she were telling him that there was some dust on his coat--
"You had better not take too much of it; you seem to have had enoughalready. Sir Robert Ferrers here is very taciturn in his cups, I amtold; but you make such a terrible to-do when you are drunk."
They should feel her tongue, these fellows! They might come and dangleabout her carriage-door, and joke to one another, and look on her beautyas if she were a doll; but they should feel her tongue; Charles's heartsank within him as he heard her. Only a month gone, and she desperate.
But of all the mischievous things done on that race-course that day--andthey were many--the most mischievous and uncalled-for was Adelaide'sattack upon Sir Robert Ferrers, who, though very young, was as sober,clever, and discreet a young man as any in the Guards, or in England.But Adelaide had heard a story about him. To wit, that, going to dinnerat Greenwich with a number of friends, and having taken two glasses orso of wine at his dinner, he got it into his head that he was gettingtipsy; and refused to speak another word all the evening for fear ofcommitting himself.
The other men laughed at Ferrers. And Lord Welter chose to laugh too; hewas determined that his wife should not make a fool of him. But nowevery one began to draw off and take their places for the race. LittleDick Ferrers, whose whole life was one long effort of good nature,stayed by Lady Welter, though horribly afraid of her, because he did notlike to see her left alone. Charles forced himself into a front positionagainst the rails, with his friend Mr. Sloane, and held on thereby,intensely interested. He was passionately fond of horse-racing; and heforgot everything, even his poor, kind old friend Lord Ascot, inscrutinising every horse as it came by from the Warren, and guessingwhich was to win.
Haphazard was the horse, there could be no doubt. A cheer ran all alongthe line, as he came walking majestically down, as though he knew he wasthe hero of the day. Bill Sykes and Carnarvon were as good as good couldbe; but Haphazard was better. Charles remembered Lady Ascot's tearfulwarning about his not being able to stay; but he laughed it to scorn.The horse had furnished so since then! Here he came, flying past themlike a whirlwind, shaking the earth, and making men's ears tingle withthe glorious music of his feet on the turf. Haphazard, ridden by Wells,must win! Hurrah for Wells!
As the horse came slowly past again, he looked up to see the calm sternface; but it was not there. There were Lord Ascot's colours, dark blueand white sash; but where was Wells? The jockey was a smooth-faced youngman, with very white teeth, who kept grinning and touching his cap atevery other word Lord Ascot said to him. Charles hurriedly borrowedSloane's card, and read,
"Lord Ascot's Haphazard----J. Brooks."
Who, in the name of confusion, was J. Brooks? All of a sudden heremembered. It was one of Lord Ascot's own lads. It was the very ladthat rode Haphazard on the day that Adelaide and he rode out to theDowns, at Ranford, to see the horse gallop. Lord Ascot must be mad.
"But Wells was to have ridden Haphazard, Mr. Sloane," said Charles.
"He wouldn't," said Sloane, and laughed sardonically. But there was notime for Charles to ask why he laughed, for the horses were off.
Those who saw the race were rather surprised that Ben Caunt had notshowed more to the front at first to force the running; but there wasnot much time to think of such things. As they came round the corner,Haphazard, who was lying sixth, walked through his horses and laidhimself alongside of Bill Sykes. A hundred yards from the post, BillSykes made a push, and drew a neck a-head; in a second or so moreHaphazard had passed him, winning the Derby by a clear length; and poorLord Ascot fell headlong down in a fit, like a dead man.
Little Dicky Ferrers, in the excitement of the race, had climbed intothe rumble of Adelaide's carriage, peashooter and all; and, havingcheered rather noisily as the favourite came in winner, he was beginningto wonder whether he hadn't made a fool of himself, and what Lady Welterwould say when she found where he had got to, when Lord Welter brokethrough the crowd, and came up to his wife, looking like death.
"Get home, Adelaide! You see what has happened, and know what to do.Lady Welter, if I get hold of that boy Brooks, to-night, in a safeplace, I'll murder him, by----!"
"I believe you will, Welter. Keep away from him, unless you are amadman. If you anger the boy it will all come out. Where is Lord Ascot?"
"Dead, they say, or dying. He is in a fit."
"I ought to go to him, Welter, in common decency."
"Go home, I tell you. Get the things you know of packed, and taken toone of the hotels at London Bridge. Any name will do. Be at hometo-night, dressed, in a state of jubilation; and keep a couple ofhundred pounds in the house. Here, you fellows! her ladyship'shorses--look sharp!"
Poor little Dicky Ferrers had heard more than he intended; but LordWelter, in his madness, had not noticed him. He didn't use hispeashooter going home, and spoke very little. There was a party of allof them in Hornby's rooms that night, and Dicky was so dull at first,that his brother made some excuse to get him by himself, and say a feweager, affectionate words to him.
"Dick, my child, you have lost some money. How much? You shall have itto-morrow."
"Not half a halfpenny, Bob; but I was with Lady Welter just after therace, and I heard more than I ought to have heard."
"You couldn't help it, I hope."
"I ought to have helped it; but it was so sudden, I couldn't help it.And now I can't ease my mind by telling anybody."
"I suppose it was some rascality of Welter's," said Sir Robert,laughing. "It don't much matter; only don't tell any one, you know." Andthen they went in again, and Dicky never told any one till every oneknew.
For it came out soon that Lord Ascot had been madly betting, bycommission, against his own horse, and that forty years' rents of hisestates wouldn't set my lord on his legs again. With his usualirresolution, he had changed his policy--partly owing, I fear, to ourdear old friend Lady Ascot's perpetual croaking about "Ramoneur blood,"and its staying qualities. So, after betting such a sum on his own horseas gave the betting world confidence, and excusing himself by pleadinghis well-known poverty from going further, he had hedged, by commission;and, could his horse have lost, he would have won enough to have setmatters right at Ranford. He dared not ask a great jockey to ride forhim under such circumstances
, and so he puffed one of his own lads tothe world, and broke with Wells. The lad had sold him like a sheep.Meanwhile, thinking himself a man of honour, poor fool, he had raisedevery farthing possible on his estate to meet his engagements on theturf in case of failure--in case of his horse winning by some mischance,if such a thing could be. And so it came about that the men of the turfwere all honourably paid, and he and his tradesmen were ruined. Theestates were entailed; but for thirty years Ranford must be in the handsof strangers. Lord Welter, too, had raised money, and lost fearfully bythe same speculation.
There are some men who are always in the right place when they arewanted--always ready to do good and kind actions--and who are generallyfound "to the fore" in times of trouble. Such a man was GeneralMainwaring. When Lord Ascot fell down in a fit, he was beside him, and,having seen him doing well, and having heard from him, as he recovered,the fearful extent of the disaster, he had posted across country toRanford and told Lady Ascot.
She took it very quietly.
"Win or lose," she said, "it is all one to this unhappy house. Tell themto get out my horses, dear general, and let me go to my poor darlingAscot. You have heard nothing of Charles Ravenshoe, general?"
"Nothing, my dear lady."
Charles had brushed his sleeve in the crowd that day, and had longed totake the dear old brown hand in his again, but dared not. Poor Charles!If he had only done so!
So the general and Lady Ascot went off together, and nursed Lord Ascot;and Adelaide, pale as death, but beautiful as ever, was driven homethrough the dust and turmoil, clenching her hands impatiently togetherat every stoppage on the road.