Sophia: A Romance

  CHAPTER IX

  IN CLARGES BOW

  If Tom had been alone when he was thus ejected, it is probablethat his first impulse would have been either to press his foreheadagainst the wall and weep with rage, or to break the offender'swindows--eighteen being an age at which the emotions are masters ofthe man. But the noise of the fracas within, though dulled by thewalls, had reached the street. A window here and a window there stoodopen, and curious eyes, peering through the darkness, were on the twowho had been put out. Tom was too angry to heed these on his ownaccount, or care who was witness of his violence; but for Sophia'ssake, whose state as she clung to his arm began to appeal to hismanhood, he was willing to be gone without more.

  After shaking his fist at the door, therefore, and uttering a furiousword or two, he pressed the weeping girl's hand to his side. "Allright," he said, "we'll go. It'll not be long before I'm back again,and they'll be sorry! A houseful of cheats and bullies! There, there,child, I'll come. Don't cry," he continued, patting her hand with anair that, after the reverse he had suffered, was not without itsgrandeur. "I'll take care of you, never fear. I've rooms a little wayround the corner, taken to-day, and you shall have my bed. It's toolate to go to Arlington Street to-night."

  Sophia, sobbing and frightened, hung down her head, and did notanswer; and Tom, forgetting in his wrath against Hawkesworth the causehe had to be angry with her, said nothing to increase her misery oraggravate her sense of the folly she had committed. His lodgings werein Clarges Row, a little north of Shepherd's Market, and almostwithin a stone's throw of Mayfair Chapel. Four minutes' walkingbrought the two to the house, where Tom rapped in a peculiar mannerat the window-shutter; when this had been twice repeated, the doorwas opened grudgingly by a pale-faced, elderly man, bearing a lightedcandle-end in his fingers.

  He muttered his surprise on seeing Tom, but made way for him,grumbling something about the late hour. When he saw the girl about tofollow, however, he started, and seemed to be going to refuse herentrance. But Tom was of those who carry off by sheer force ofarrogance a difficult situation. "My sister, Miss Maitland, is withme," he said. "She'll have my room to-night. Don't stare, fellow, buthold a light for the lady to go up."

  The man's reluctance was evident; but he let them enter, and barredthe door after them. Then snuffing his candle with his fingers, heheld it up and surveyed them. "By gole," he said, chuckling, "youdon't look much like bride and bridegroom!"

  Tom stormed at him, but he only continued to grin. "You've beenfighting!" he said.

  "Well what's that to you, you rogue!" the lad answered sharply. "Lightthe lady up, do you hear?"

  "To be sure! To be sure! But you'll be wanting a light in each room,"he continued with a cunning look, as he halted at the head of a narrowboarded staircase, up which he had preceded them. "That's over andabove, you'll remember. Candles here and candles there, a man's soonruined!"

  Tom bade him keep a civil tongue, and himself led the way into aquaint little three-cornered parlour, boarded like the staircase;beyond it was a bedroom of the same shape and size. The rooms had asmall window apiece looking on the Row, and wore an air of snugnessthat would have appealed to Sophia had her eyes been open to anythingbut her troubles. Against the longer wall of the little parlour stooda couple of tall clocks; a third eked out the scanty furniture of thebedroom, and others, ticking with stealthy industry in the lower partof the house, whispered that it was a clock-maker's shop.

  Sophia cared not. She felt no curiosity. She put no questions, butaccepted in silence the dispositions her brother made for her comfort.Bruised and broken, fatigued in body, with a sorely aching heart shetook the room he gave her, sleep offering all she could now hope foror look for, sleep bounding all her ambitions. In sleep--and at thatmoment the girl would fain have lain down not to rise again--she hopedto find a refuge from trouble, a shelter from thought, a haven whereshame could not enter. To one in suspense, in doubt, in expectation,bed is a rack, a place of torture; but when the blow has fallen, thelot been drawn, the dulled sensibilities sink to rest in it asnaturally as a bird in the nest--and as quickly find repose.

  She slept as one stunned, but weak is the anodyne of a single night.She awoke in the morning, cured indeed of love by a radical operation,but still bleeding; still in fancy under the cruel knife, stillwrithing in remembered torture. To look forward, to avert her eyesfrom the past, was her sole hope; and speedily her mind grew clear;the future began to take shape. She would make use of Tom's goodoffices, and through him she would negotiate terms with her sister.She would not, could not, go back to Arlington Street! But anypenance, short of that, she would undergo. If it pleased them shewould go to Chalkhill; or in any other way that seemed good to them,she would expiate the foolish, and worse than foolish escapade ofwhich she had been guilty. Life henceforth could be but a grey andjoyless thing; provided she escaped the sneers and gibes of ArlingtonStreet, she cared little where it was spent.

  She was anxious to broach the subject at breakfast; but, through anatural reluctance to open it, she postponed the discussion as long asshe dared. It was not like Tom to be over careful of her feelings; buthe, too, appeared to be equally unwilling to revert to pastunpleasantness. He fidgeted and seemed preoccupied; he rose frequentlyand sat down again; more than once he went to the window and lookedout. At last he rose impulsively and disappeared in the bedroom.

  By-and-by he returned. He was still in his morning cap and loosewrapper, but he carried a shirt over each arm. "Which ruffles do youlike the better, Sophy?" he asked; and he displayed one after theother before her eyes. "Of course I'd like to look my best to-day," headded, shamefacedly.

  She stared at him, in perplexity at first, not understanding him; thenin horror, as she discerned on a sudden what he meant. "To-day?" shefaltered. "Why to-day, Tom, more than on other days?"

  His face fell. "Is't odd," he said, "to want to look one's best to bemarried? At any rate, I never thought so. Until yesterday," he addedwith a glance at her dress.

  She was sitting on the narrow window-seat; she stood up, her back tothe window. "To be married?" she exclaimed. "Oh, Tom! It isimpossible--impossible you intend to go on with it, after all you haveheard!"

  His face grew darker and more sullen. "At any rate I am not goingto marry Hawkesworth!" he sneered. And then as she winced under thecruel stroke he repented of it. "I only mean," he said hurriedly,"that--that I don't see what he and his villainy have to do with mymarriage."

  "But, oh, Tom, it is all one!" Sophia cried, clasping her handsnervously. "He was with--with her, when you met her. I heard you sayso last night. I heard you say that if it had not been for him youwould never have seen her, or known her."

  "Weil!" Tom answered. "And what of that? If her chaise had not brokendown, I should never have seen her, or known her. That is true, too.But what has that to do with it, I'd like to know?"

  "He planned it!"

  "He could not plan my falling in love," Tom answered, stroking hischin fatuously.

  "But if you had seen the book," Sophia retorted, "the book he snatchedfrom me, you would have seen it written there! His plan was to procureyou to be married first. You know you forfeit ten thousand pounds tome, Tom, and ten to Anne, if you marry without your guardian'sconsent?"

  "Hang them and the ten thousand!" Tom cried grandly. "Lord, miss, I'veplenty left! You are welcome to it, and so is sister. As for theirconsent, they'd not give it till I was Methuselah!"

  "But surely you're not that yet!" she pleaded. "Nor near! You are onlyeighteen."

  "Well, and what are you?" he retorted. "And you were for being marriedyesterday!"

  "I was!" she cried, wringing her hands. "And to what a fate! I amunhappy to-day, unhappy, indeed; but I shall be thankful all my lifethat I escaped that! Oh, Tom, for my sake take care! Don't do it!Don't do it! Wait, at least, until----"

  "Till I am Methuselah?" he cried. "It's likely!"

  "No, but until you have
taken advice!" she answered. "Till you knowmore about her. Tom, don't be angry," Sophia pleaded, as he turnedaway with an impatient gesture. "Or if you will not be guided, tellme, at least, who she is. I am your sister, surely I have the right toknow who is to be your wife?"

  "I am sure I don't mind your knowing!"

  "I have only your interests at heart," she cried.

  "I have no reason to be ashamed of her, I am sure," he answered,colouring. "Though I don't know that she is altogether one of yoursort. She is the most beautiful woman in the world that I know! And soyou will say when you see her!" he added, his eyes sparkling. "She hasas much wit in her little finger as I have in my head. And you'll findthat out, too. She don't look at most people, but she took to me atonce. It seems wonderful to me now," he continued rapturously."Wonderful! But you should see her! You must see her! You can't fancywhat she is until you see her!"

  It was on the tip of Sophia's tongue to ask, "But is she good?" Likea wise girl, however, she refrained; or rather she put the questionin another form. "Her name," she said timidly; "is it by anychance--Oriana?"

  Tom was pacing the room, his back to her, his thoughts occupied withhis mistress's charms. He whirled about so rapidly that the tassels ofhis morning wrapper--at that period the only wear of a gentleman untilhe dressed for the day--flew out level with the horizon. "How did youknow?" he cried, his face flushed, his eyes reading her suspiciously."Who told you?"

  "Because I read that name in the book," Sophia answered, her worstfears confirmed. "Because----"

  "Did you see Oriana only, or her full name?"

  "What is her full name?"

  "You don't know? Then you cannot have seen it in the book!" Tomretorted triumphantly. "But I am not ashamed of it. Her name isClark."

  "Clark? Oriana Clark?" Sophia repeated. And she wondered where she hadheard the name. Why did it seem familiar to her?

  "What does her name matter?" Tom answered irritably. "It will be LadyMaitland by night."

  "She's a widow?" Sophia asked. She did not know how she knew.

  Tom scowled. "Well, and what if she is?" he cried. "What was herhusband, Tom? I suppose she had a husband?"

  "Look here, take care what you are saying!" Tom returned, with an uglylook. "Don't be too free with your tongue, miss. Her husband, if youmust know, was a--a Captain Clark of--of Sabine's foot, I think itwas. He was a man of the first fashion, so that's all you know aboutit! But he treated her badly, spent all her money, you know, and--andwhen he died," Tom added vaguely, "she had to look out for herself,you understand."

  "But she must be years and years older than you!" Sophia answered,opening her eyes. "And a widow! Oh, Tom, think of it! Think of itagain! And be guided! Wait at least until you know more about it," shepleaded earnestly, "and have learned what life she has led, and----"

  But Tom would hear no more. "Wait?" he cried rudely. "You're a niceperson to give that advice! You were for waiting, of course, and doingwhat you were told. And what life she has led? I tell you what it is,miss; I kept my mouth shut last night, but I might have said a gooddeal! Who got us into the trouble? What were you doing in his room?The less you say and the quieter you keep, the better for all, Ithink! A man's one thing but a girl's another, and she should do whatshe's bid and take care of herself, and not run the risk of shamingher family!"

  "Oh, Tom!"

  "Oh, ifs every word true!" the lad answered cruelly. "And less thanyou deserve, ma'am! Wait till sister sees you, and you'll hear more.Now, cry, cry, that's like a girl!" he continued contemptuously. "Allthe same a little plain truth will do you good, miss, and teach younot to meddle. But I suppose women will scratch women as long as theworld lasts!"

  "Oh, Tom, it is not that!" Sophia cried between her sobs. "I'vebehaved badly, if you please. As badly as you please! But take me fora warning. I thought--I thought him all you think her!"

  "Oh, d----n!" Tom cried, and flung away in a rage, went into thebedroom and slammed the door. Sophia heard him turn the key, and aminute later, when she had a little recovered herself, she heard himmoving to and fro in the room. He was dressing. He had not, then,changed his mind.

  She waited awhile, trying to believe that her words might stillproduce some effect. But he made no sign, he did not emerge. Presentlyshe caught the rustle of his garments as he changed his clothes; andin a fever of anxiety she began to pace the room. Nature has providedno cure for trouble more wholesome or more powerful than a generousinterest in another's fate. Gone was the apathy, gone were the dulnessof soul and the greyness of outlook with which Sophia had risen fromher bed. Convinced of the villainy of the man who had nearly snaredher, she foresaw nothing but ruin in an alliance between her brotherand a person who was connected, ever so remotely, with him. Nor didthe case rest on this only; or on Tom's youth; or on the secrecy ofthe marriage. Oriana was the name she had spelt in the book, the nameof one of the women suggested in Hawkesworth's sordid calculations. Nowonder Sophia shrank from thinking what manner of woman she was, orwhat her qualifications for a part in the play. It was enough that sheknew Hawkesworth, and was known by him.

  The cruel lesson which she had learned in her own person, the glimpseshe had had of the abyss into which her levity had all but cast her,even the gratitude in which she held the brother who had protectedher, rendered her feelings trebly poignant now; her view of the casetrebly serious. To see the one relation she loved falling into the pitwhich she had escaped, and to be unable to save him; to know himcommitted to this fatal step, and to foresee that his whole life wouldbe blasted by it, these prospects awoke no less pity in her breast,because her eyes were open to-day to her madness of yesterday.Something, something must be done for him; something, but what?

  Often through the gloom of reflections, alien from them, shoot strangeflashes of memory. "Oriana? Oriana Clark?" Sophia muttered, and shestood still, remembered. Oriana Clark! Surely that was the name of thewoman in whose stead she had been arrested, the woman whose name thebailiff had read from the writ in Lane's shop. Sophia had only heardthe name once, and the press of after events and crowding emotions haddriven it for the time into a side cell of the brain, whence it now assuddenly emerged. Her eyes sparkled with hope. Here, at last, was afact, here was something on which she could go. She stepped to Tom'sdoor, and rapped sharply on it.

  "Well?" he called sourly. "What is it?"

  "Please, come out!" she cried eagerly. "I have something to tell you.I have, indeed!"

  "Can't come now," he answered. "I'm in a hurry."

  It seemed he was; or he wished to avoid further discussion, for whenhe appeared a few minutes later--long minutes to Sophia, waiting andlistening in the outer room--he snatched up his hat and malacca andmade for the door. "I can't stop now," he cried, and he waived her offas he raised the latch. "I shall be back in an hour--in an hour, andif you like to behave yourself, you--you may be at it. Though you renot very fine, I'm bound to say!" he concluded with a grudging glance.Doubtless he was comparing her draggled sacque and unpowdered hairwith the anticipated splendours of his bride. He was so fine himself,he seemed to fill the little room with light.

  "Oh, but, Tom, one minute!" she cried, following him and seizing hisarm. "Have a little patience, I only want to tell you one thing."

  "Well, be quick about it," he answered, ungraciously, his hand stillon the latch. "And whatever you do, miss, keep your tongue off her, orit will be the worse for you. I'll not have my wife miscalled," hecontinued, looking grand, and a trifle sulky, "as you'll have tolearn, my lady."

  "But she is not your wife yet," Sophia protested earnestly. "And, Tom,she only wants you to pay her debts. She only wants a husband to payher debts. She was arrested yesterday."

  "Arrested!" he exclaimed.

  "Yes," Sophia answered; and then, beginning to flounder, "at least, Imean," she stammered, "I was arrested--in her place. That is to say,on a writ against her."

  "You were arrested on a writ against her!" Tom cried again. "On a writagainst Oriana? You must be mad! Mad,
girl! Why, you've never seen herin your life. You did not know her name!" He had not heard, it will beremembered, a word of her adventures on the way to Davies Street, andthe statement she had just made seemed to him the wanton falsehood ofa foolish girl bent on mischief. "Oh, this is too bad!" he continued,shaking her off in a rage. "How dare you, you little vixen? Youcowardly little liar!" he added, pale with anger. And he raised hishand as if he would strike her.

  She recoiled. "Don't hurt me, Tom," she cried.

  "I'll not! but--but you deserve it, you little snake!" he retorted."You are bad! You are bad right through!" he continued from a heightof righteous indignation. "What you did yesterday was nothing incomparison to this! You let me hear another word against her, make upanother of your lies, and you are no sister of mine! That's all! Sonow you know, and if you are wise you will not try it again!"

  As he uttered the last word Tom jerked up the latch, and strode out;but only to come into violent collision, at the head of the stairs,with his landlord; who appeared to be getting up from his knees. "Hangyou, Grocott, what the deuce are you doing here?" the lad cried,backing from him in a rage.

  "Cleaning the stairs, your honour," the man pleaded.

  "You rascal, I believe you were listening!" Tom retorted. "Is the roombelow stairs ready? We go at noon, mark me, and shall be back to dineat one."

  "To be sure, sir, all will be ready. Does the lady come here first?"

  "Yes. Have the cold meats come from the White Horse?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And the Burgundy from Pontack's?"

  "Yes, your honour."

  Tom nodded his satisfaction, and, his temper a little improved,stalked down the stairs. Sophia, who had heard every word, ran to thewindow and saw him cross Clarges Row in the direction of Shepherd'sMarket. Probably he was gone to assure himself that the clergyman wasat home, and ready to perform the ceremony.

  The girl watched him out of sight; then she dried her tears. "Imustn't cry!" she murmured. "I must do something! I must dosomething!"

  But there was only one thing she could do, and that was a thing thatwould cost her dear. Only by returning to Arlington Street, at once,that moment, and giving information, could she prevent the marriage.Mr. Northey was Tom's guardian; he had the power, and though he hadshirked his duty while the thing was _in nubibus_, he would not dareto stand by when time and place, the house and the hour were pointedout to him. In less than ten minutes she could be with him; in half asmany the facts could be made known. Long before the hour elapsed Mr.Northey might be in Clarges Row, or, if he preferred it, at Dr.Keith's chapel, ready to forbid the marriage.

  The thing was possible, nay it was easy; and it would withhold Tomfrom a step which he must repent all his life. But it entailed the onepenance from which she was anxious to be saved, the one penalty fromwhich her wounded pride shrank, as the bleeding stump shrinks from thecautery. To execute it she must return to Arlington Street; she mustreturn into her sister's power, to the domination of Mrs. Martha, andthe daily endurance, not only of many an ignoble slight, but of coarsejests and gibes and worse insinuations. An hour earlier she hadconceived the hope of escaping this, either through Tom's mediation,or by a voluntary retreat to Chalkhill. Now she had to choose this orhis ruin.

  She did not hesitate. Even in her folly of the previous day, even inher reckless self-abandonment to a silly passion, Sophia had notlacked the qualities that make for sacrifice--courage, generosity,staunchness. Here was room for their display in a better cause, andwithout a moment's delay, undeterred by the reflection that far fromearning Tom's gratitude, she would alienate her only friend, shehurried into the bedroom and donned Lady Betty's laced jacket andTuscan. With a moan on her own account, a pitiful smile on his, sheput them on; and then paused, remembering with horror that she mustpass through the streets in that guise. It had done well enough atnight, but in the day the misfit was frightful. Not even for Tom couldshe walk through Berkeley Square and Portugal Street, the figure itmade her. She must have a chair.

  She opened the door and was overjoyed to find that the landlord wasstill on the stairs. "Will you please to get me a chair," she saideagerly. "At once, without the loss of a minute."

  The man looked at her stupidly, his heavy lower lip dropped andflaccid; his fat, whitish face evinced a sort of consternation. "Achair?" he repeated slowly. "Certainly. But if your ladyship is goingany distance, would not a coach be better?"

  "No, I am only going as far as Arlington Street," Sophia answered, offher guard for the moment. "Still, a coach will do if you cannot get achair. I have not a moment to lose."

  "To be sure, ma'am, to be sure," he answered, staring at her heavily."A chair you'll have then?"

  "Yes, and at once! At once, you understand."

  "If you are in a hurry, maybe there is one below," he said, making asif he would enter the room and look from the windows. "Sometimes thereis."

  "If there were," she retorted, irritated by his slowness, "I shouldnot have asked you to get one. I suppose you know what a chair is?"she continued. For the man stood looking at her so dully and strangelythat she began to think he was a natural.

  "Oh, yes," he answered, his eyes twinkling with sudden intelligence,as if at the notion. "I know a chair, and I'd have had one for you bynow. But, by gole, I've no one to leave with the child, in case itawakes."

  "The child?" Sophia cried, quite startled. The presence of a child ina house is no secret as a rule.

  "'Tis here," he said, indicating a door that stood ajar at his elbow."On the bed in the inner room, ma'am. I'm doing the stairs to be nearit."

  "Is it a baby?" Sophia cried. "To be sure. What else?"

  "I'll stay with it, then," she said. "May I look at it? And will youget the chair for me, while I watch it?"

  "To be sure, ma'am! 'Tis here," he continued, as he pushed the dooropen, and led the way through a tiny room; the outer of two that,looking to the back, corresponded with Tom's apartments at the front.He pushed open the door of the inner room, the floor of which was astep higher. "If you'll see to it while I am away, ma'am, and not beout of hearing?"

  "I will," Sophia said softly. "Is it yours?"

  "No, my daughter's."

  Sophia tip-toed across the floor to the bed side. The room was poorlylighted by a window, which was partially blocked by a water-cistern;the bed stood in the dark corner beside the window; Sophia, turning upher nose at the close air of the room, hesitated for an instant totouch the dirty, tumbled bed-clothes. She could not see the child."Where is it?" she asked, stooping to look more closely.

  The answer was the dull jar of the door as it closed behind her; asound that was followed by the click of a bolt driven home in thesocket. She turned swiftly, her heart standing still, her brainalready apprised of treachery. The man was gone.

  Sophia made but one bound to the threshold, lifted the latch, andthrew her weight against the door. It was fastened.

  "Open!" she cried, enraged at the trick which had been played her. "Doyou hear me? Open the door this minute!" she repeated, striking itfuriously with her hands. "What do you mean? How dare you shut me in?"

  This time the only response was the low chuckling laugh of theclock-maker as he turned away. She heard the stealthy fall of hisfootsteps as he went through the outer room; then the grating of thekey, as he locked the farther door behind him. Then--silence.

  "Tom!" Sophia shrieked, kicking the door, and pounding it with herlittle fists. "Tom, help! help, Tom!" And then, as she realised howshe had been trapped, "Oh, poor Tom!" she sobbed. "Poor Tom! I can donothing now!"

  While Grocott, listening on the stairs, chuckled grimly. "You thoughtyou were going to stop my girl's marriage, did you?" he muttered,shaking his fist in the direction of the sounds. "You thought you'dstop her being my lady, did you? Stop her now if you can, my littlemadam. I have you like a mouse in a trap; and when you are cooler, myLady Maitland shall let you out. My lady, ha! ha! What a sound it has.My Lady Maitland!"

  Then reflecting t
hat Hawkesworth, whom he hated, and had cause tohate, had placed this triumph in his grasp--and would now, as thingshad turned out, get nothing by it--he shook with savage laughter."Lady Maitland!" he chuckled. "Ho! ho! And he gets--the shells! Theshells, ho! ho!"