CHAPTER IX
ANGER OF AN UNCLE
It seems certain that on this day Alison wore a dress of a blue likepeacock's feathers. That colour--as you may see, she wears it in both theKneller and the Thornhill portraits--was much a favourite of hers, andindeed it set off well the rare beauty of her own hues. The clarity, thedelicacy, of her cheeks were such as you may see on one of those roseswhich, white in full flower, have a rosy flush on the outer petals of thebud, and the same rose open may serve for the likeness of a neck andbosom which she guarded no more prudishly than her day's fashiondemanded. For all the daintiness, her lips, a proud pair, were richly red(stained of raspberries, in Charles Hadley's sneer), and with the blackmasses of her hair and grey eyes almost as dark, gave her an aspect of,what neither man nor woman ever denied her, eager and passionate life.All this was flowering out of her peacock blue velvet, and Harry, Iinfer, went mad.
She never expanded into the larger extravagances of the hoop, preferringto trust to her own shape. Her waist made no pretence of fine-ladyship,but the bodice was close laced _a la mode_ to parade the riches of herbosom. Strong and gloriously alive, and abundantly a woman--so she smiledat the world.
It was a delirious hour for Harry, that dinner. He knew that Alison waspleased to be in the gayest spirits, and his father, in his father's ownflamboyant style, seconded her heartily. He joined in, too, and seemed tohimself loud and vapid, yet had no power of restraint. It was as thoughhis usual placid, critical mind were detached and watched himself in thehappy exuberance of drunkenness--which was a state unknown to him, forexcess of liquor could only move him with drowsy gloom. And in the midstof the noise Mrs. Weston sat, pale and silent, a ghost at the feast.
He was glad when his father spoke of going, though he found himselftalking some folly against it, on Alison's side, who jovially mocked theColonel for shyness. But Colonel Boyce, it appeared, had made up hismind, and Harry was surprised at the masterful ease with which, keepingthe empty fun still loud, he extricated himself and his unwilling son.
They were all at the door, a noisy, laughing company, and thehorses waited.
"It's no use, ma'am," Harry cried, "he knows how to get his way,_monsieur mon pere_."
"Pray heaven he hath not taught his son the art!"
"Oh Lud, no, I am the very humble servant of any petticoat."
"Fie, that's far worse, sir. I see you would still be forgetting whichcovered your wife."
"Never believe him, Madame Alison." quoth the Colonel. "It's a strongrogue and a masterless man,"
"Why, that's better again. And yet it's not so well if he'll bemistressless too."
"Fight it out, child," the Colonel cried. "'Lay on, Macduff, and curst beshe that first cries hold, enough!' Come, Harry, to horse."
"See, Weston, he deserts me, and merrily!"
There came upon the scene two other horsemen--Mr. Hadley's gaunt,one-armed frame and a big, lumbering elder with a rosy face.
Harry bowed over Alison's hand. It was she who put it to his lips, andnodding a roguish smile at the other gentlemen, "So you run away,sir?" she said.
Harry looked at her and "Give me back my head," he said in a low voice."I have lost it somewhere here."
"Oh, your head!" She laughed. "Well, maybe it's the best part of you."
He mounted, and Colonel Boyce, already in the saddle, kissed his hand toher. They rode off, compelled to single file by the plump old gentlemanwho held the middle of the road and glowered at them. Mr. Hadley made anelaborate bow.
The old gentleman watched them out of sight round the curve of the drive,then sent his horse on with an oath and, dismounting heavily at Alison'stoes, roared out: "What the devil's this folly, miss?" He made angrypuffing noises. "I vow I heard you laughing at Finchley. Might have heardhim kissing too."
"Kissing? Oh la, sir, my hand, and so may you." She held it out and madean impudent little curtsy. "I protest the gentleman is all maidenly. Thatis why he and I make so good a match."
The old gentleman spluttered and was still redder. "Match, miss? What,the devil!"
"Oh no, sir. Pray come in, sir. I see you are in a heat, and I fear for achill on your gout."
"You are mighty civil, miss. You are too civil by half," the oldgentleman puffed, and stalked past her.
Alison stood in the way of Charles Hadley as he made to follow. There wassome pugnacity on her fair face. "It's mighty kind of Mr. Hadley toconcern himself with me."
"Egad, ma'am, if I come untimely it's pure happy chance."
She whirled round on that and they went in. "Will you please to drink adish of tea, Sir John?"
"You know I won't, miss." The old gentleman let himself down with a gruntinto the largest chair in her drawing-room. "Now who the plague is thiskissing fellow?"
"Sure, sir, it's the gentleman Mr. Hadley told you of," said Alisonmeekly. She hit both her birds. Mr. Hadley and his uncle looked at eachother. Sir John snorted. Mr. Hadley shrugged and gave an acid laugh.
"What, what, that fellow of Waverton's? Od burn it, miss, he's astarveling usher."
"Oh, sir, don't be hasty. I dare say he'll be fat when he's old."
"Don't be pert, miss. D'ye know all the county's talking of you andthis fellow?"
Alison paled a little. She spoke in a still small voice. "I did not knowhow much I was in Mr. Hadley's debt. I advise you, Sir John, don't be oneof those who talk."
"You advise me, miss! Damme, ain't I your guardian?"
"I am trying to remember that you once were, sir. But you make itvery hard."
"What the devil do you mean?"
"I mean--"
"I vow neither of you knows what you mean," Mr. Hadley drowned her in adrawl. "I never saw such fire-eaters. Look 'e, Alison, we come ridingover in a civil way and--"
"Tell me you have been planning a scandal about me. Oh, I vow I amobliged to you."
Mr. Hadley laughed. "Lud, child, you ha' known me long enough. Do I dealin tattle? And if we have seen what we should not ha' seen, if you're hotat being caught, prithee, whose fault is it? Egad, you know well enoughthere's things beneath Miss Lambourne's dignity."
"Yes, indeed, and I see Mr. Hadley is one of them."
"You're a fool for your pains, Charles," John shouted. "What's sense to awench? Now, miss, I'll have an end of this. You're old Tom Lambourne'sdaughter for all your folly, and I'll not have his flesh and blood thesport of any greedy rogue from the kennel."
There was a moment of silence. Then Alison, whose colour was grown high,said quietly, "Pray, Sir John, will you go or shall I? I do not desire tosee you again in my house."
"Go?" The old gentleman struggled to his feet. "Damme, Charles, thegirl's mad. Yes, miss, I'll go--and go straight to my Lady Waverton. Odburn it, we'll have your fellow out of the county in an hour. Egad, miss,you're besotted. Why, what is he?--a trickster, a knight of the road.'Stand and deliver,' that's my gentleman's trade. He's for your father'smoney, you fool."
"Good-bye, Sir John," Alison said, and turned away.
With unwonted agility, Mr. Hadley came between her and the door. "You arenot fair to us, Alison," he said. "Prithee, be fair to yourself." Shepassed him without a word. Mr. Hadley turned and showed Sir John a ruefulface. "We have made a bad business of it, sir."
Sir John swore. "Brazen impudence, damme, brazen, I say."
"Oh Lord! Don't make bad worse."
Sir John swore again. Upon his rage came Alison's voice singing:
"When daffodils begin to peer With heigh! the doxy, over the dale,Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year, For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale."
Sir John spluttered, and went out roaring for his horse.