Faro''s Daughter

  CHAPTER 11

  Mr Ravenscar came to the rendezvous in the Park alone, and on foot, as Kennet had hoped he would, when he appointed a meeting-place at no great distance from his house, and in one of the walks a little way away from the carriage-road. He knew that unless he drove himself Ravenscar either walked, or took a hackney, and it was not likely that he would have his curricle out so late in the day. He had himself hired a closed vehicle whose owner, a villainous-looking individual with a cauliflower ear, was vouched for by Silas. For five guineas, he was ready, he said jovially, to assist in a murder, and if it were a mere matter of abduction he counted it a very slight piece of work, and was happy to be of service. He bit the gold pieces that were given him, and said that he liked to have to do with honest culls. He engaged to hold his carriage in readiness in the Park, and to be deaf and blind to his employers' activities.

  Mr Ravenscar saw the carriage as he crossed the road towards the path where he expected to meet Miss Grantham, and he supposed it to be hers. It was already dusk, and the Park was almost deserted. What reason Deborah could have for appointing a meeting-place in such secrecy, and at such an hour, he could not imagine. He would not have been surprised to find that there was some trick brewing, and was prepared to encounter all the feminine weapons of tears, cajolery, pleadings and vapours. That she hoped to induce him to relent he was sure; he suspected, with a cynical twist to his mouth, that she was regretting her rejection of his fantastic offer of twenty thousand pounds, and determined that no arts of hers should prevail upon him to repeat the offer, or even the half of it. She might think herself fortunate to get the mortgage and the bill into her hands.

  The path down which he was wending his way lay between beds of autumn flowers and was screened from the road by a belt of trees, which made it so dark, in the failing light, that he could not see many yards ahead. A rustic seat, where Miss Grantham should have met him, loomed vaguely ahead, beside a clump of flowering shrubs. No one was in sight. Ravenscar paused, frowning, and suddenly suspicious. It was no longer fashionable to wear a sword, and he carried nothing but his walking-cane in his hand. Some instinct of danger made him tighten his grip on this, but before he had well grasped that Miss Grantham had not kept her appointment with him, Silas Wantage had sprung out from behind the bush with a club it his hand, and came at him in a rush.

  Ravenscar escaped the blow aimed at his head only by the swiftness with which he ducked. The blow missed him, and he sprang back, holding his cane like a rapier. It was too late to enable him to recognize Wantage; his first thought was that he had been set upon by a footpad. When Wantage came or again, the cane caught him so shrewdly across the elbow-join that his club-hand dropped and he let out a grunt of pain. In that moment Ravenscar saw his chance, dropped his cane, and went in with a left and a right to the jaw. Silas's head went back but he had not spent ten years in the Ring for nothing, and he recovered quickly, abandoning his club, and covering up in this manner of an experienced bruiser. `Come on, then!' hi growled, pleased that it should have come to a turn-up after all.

  Mr. Ravenscar did come on, but Lucius Kennet, anxious to finish the business, and fearing that they might at any moment be surprised by a Park keeper, or some late wayfarer, ran out from his hiding-place behind Ravenscar and clubbed him be fore he realized that he had two opponents instead of only one.

  Mr Ravenscar dropped where he stood. Silas Wantage said angrily: `You hadn't ought to have done that! Hitting of him from behind, and spoiling the prettiest set-to I've had in years! That was a foul blow, Mr Kennet, sir, and I don't hold with such P

  `Don't stand there chattering, you fool!' said Kennet, kneeling down beside Ravenscar's inert body. `He'll come to himself in a minute! Help me to tie him up!’

  Silas somewhat sulkily produced two lengths of whipcord, and began to bind one about Ravenscar's ankles, while Kennet lashed his wrists behind his back, and gagged him with a handkerchief, and a scarf.

  `I said he'd peel to advantage, and so he would,' said Silas. `Did you see the right he landed to my jaw? Ah, he knows his way about, he does! Fair rattled my bone-box, I can tell you. And then you goes and lays him out before I've had time to do so much as draw his cork!’

  'I'm thinking it was your own cork would have been drawn,' retorted Kennet, making his knots fast. `Take you his legs, man, and I'll take his head. We'll have him safe hidden in the carriage before he comes round.'

  `I don't deny he's fast,' admitted Silas, helping to raise Mr Ravenscar from the ground. `But it goes against the grain with me to see as likely a bruiser knocked out by a foul, Mr Kennet, and that's the truth!'

  By the time they had borne Mr Ravenscar's body to the waiting carriage, both men were somewhat out of breath, and extremely glad to be able to dump their burden on the back seat. Mr Ravenscar was no lightweight.

  The carriage had left the Park, and was rumbling over the cobbled streets when Ravenscar stirred, and opened his eyes. He was conscious first of a swimming head that ached and throbbed, and next of his bonds. He made one convulsive attempt to free his hands.

  `Ah, now, be easy!' said Kennet in his ear. `There's no harm will come to you at all if you're sensible, Mr Ravenscar.'

  Mr Ravenscar was dizzy, and bewildered, but he knew that voice. He became still, rigid with anger: anger at Miss Grantham's perfidy, anger at his own folly in allowing himself to be led into such a trap.

  Another and deeper voice spoke in the darkness of the carriage. `You went down to a foul,' it said apologetically. `That weren't none of my doing, for milling a cove down from behind is what I don't hold with, and never did, 'specially a cove as stands up as well as you do, sir, and shows such a handy bunch of fives. But you hadn't ought to have gone a-persecuting of Miss Deb, when all's said.'

  Mr Ravenscar did not recognize this voice, but the language informed him that he was in the company of a bruiser. Hi closed his eyes, trying to overcome his dizziness, and to collect his wits.

  By the time the carriage drew up outside Lady Bellingham's house, it was dark enough to enable the conspirators to smuggle their prisoner down the area steps without being ob served either by a man who was walking away in the direction of Pall Mall, or by two chairmen waiting outside a house farther down the square.

  The basement of Lady Bellingham's house was very large very ill-lit, and rambling enough to resemble a labyrinth more nearly than the kitchen-quarters of a well-appointed mansion The cellar destined for Mr Ravenscar's temporary occupation was reached at the end of a stone-paved corridor, and contained, besides a quantity of store-cupboards, most of Lady Bellingham's trunks and cloak-bags; a collection of empty band-boxes, stacked up against one wall; and a Windsor chair thoughtfully placed there by Miss Grantham.

  Mr Ravenscar was set down on the chair by his panting bearers. Silas Wantage, who had provided himself with the lantern that stood on a table just inside the area-door, critically surveyed him, and gave it as his opinion that he would do. Mr Kennet shook out his ruffles, and smiled upon the victim in a way that made Mr Ravenscar long to have his hands free for only two minutes.

  `I'm thinking the second round goes to Deb, Mr Ravenscar. Don't you be worrying your head, however, for it's not for long she means to keep you here! We'll be leaving you now for a while. You will be wanting to think over your situation, I dare swear.'

  `Ay, we'd best tell Miss Deb we have him safe,' agreed Silas

  Both men then left the cellar, taking the lantern with them and locking the heavy door behind them. Mr Ravenscar was left to darkness and reflection.

  Abovestairs, dinner was over, but none of the expectant visitors to the saloons had yet arrived. Mr Kennet strolled into the little back-parlour on the half-landing, where the three ladies were sitting with Kit Grantham, and directed the ghost of a wink at Deborah before going up to shake hands with her brother. It was a little while before any opportunity for exchanging a private word with him occurred, but when he had greeted Kit, and each had asked the other a number
of jovial questions, Lady Bellingham recollected that on the previous evening the E.O. table had not seemed to her to be running true, and desired Kennet to inspect it. As he followed her out of the room, he passed Miss Grantham's chair, smiled down at her, and dropped a large iron key in her lap. She covered it at once with her handkerchief, torn between guilt and triumph, and in a few minutes murmured an excuse, and left the room.

  She found Silas Wantage in the front-hall, ready to open the door to the evening's guests. `Silas! Did you - did you have any trouble?’

  `No,' said Wantage. `Not to say trouble. But he displays to remarkable advantage, I will say, nor I don't hold with hitting him over the head with a cudgel from behind, which was what Kennet done.'

  `Oh dear!' exclaimed Miss Grantham, turning pale. `Has he hurt him?'

  `Not to signify, he hasn't. But I would have milled him down, for all he planted me a wisty castor right in the bonebox. What's to be done now, missie?'

  `I must see him,' said Miss Grantham resolutely.

  `I'd best come with you, then, and fetch a lantern.'

  `I will take a branch of candles down. The servants might notice it if you took the lantern away. But please come with me, Silas!’

  'I'll come right enough, but you've no call to be scared, Miss Deb: he's tied up as neat as a spring chicken.'

  `I am not scared,' said Miss Grantham coldly.

  She fetched one of the branches of candles from the supper room, and Silas, having instructed one of the waiters to mount guard over the door, led the way down the precipitous stairs to the cellars. He took the big key from her, and flung open the door of Mr Ravenscar's prison. Mr Ravenscar, looking under frowning brows, was gratified by the vision of a tall goddess in a golden dress, holding up a branch of candles whose flaming tongues of light touched her hair with fire. Not being in a mood to appreciate beauty, he regarded this agreeable picture without any change in his expression.

  Miss Grantham said indignantly: `There was no need to leave him with that horrid thing tied round his mouth! No one would hear him in this place, if he shouted for help! Untie ii this instant, Silas!’

  Mr Wantage grinned, and went to remove the scarf and the gag. Miss Grantham saw that her prisoner was rather pale, and a good deal dishevelled, and said, in a voice of some concern `I am afraid they handled you roughly! Silas, please to fetch, glass of wine for Mr Ravenscar!’

  'You are too good, ma'am!' said Mr Ravenscar, with bitter emphasis.

  `Well, I am sorry if you were hurt, but it was quite your own fault,' said Miss Grantham defensively. `If you had not done such a shabby thing to me I would not have had you kidnapped. You have behaved in the most odious fashion, and you deserve it all!' A rankling score came into her mind. She added: `You did me the honour once, Mr Ravenscar, of telling me that I should be whipped at the cart's tail!'

  `Do you expect me to beg your pardon?' he demanded `You will be disappointed, my fair Cyprian!’

  Miss Grantham flushed rosily, and her eyes darted fire. `I you dare to call me by that name I will hit you!’ she said between her teeth.

  `You may do what you please - strumpet!' replied M Ravenscar.

  She took one hasty step towards him, and then checked saying in a mortified tone: `You are not above taking an unfair advantage of me. You know very well I can't hit you when you have your hands tied.'

  `You amaze me, ma'am! I had not supposed you to be restricted by any consideration of fairness.'

  `You have no right to say so!' flashed Miss Grantham.

  He laughed harshly. `Indeed? You go a great deal too far for me, let me tell you! You got me here by a trick I was fool enough to think even you would not stoop to-'

  `It's not true! I used no trick!'

  `What then do you call it?' he jeered. `What of your heart rending appeals to my generosity, ma'am? What of those affecting letters you wrote to me?'

  `I didn't!' she said `I would scorn to do such a thing!'

  `Very fine talking! But it won't answer, Miss Grantham. I have your last billet in my pocket at this moment.'

  `I cannot conceive what you mean!' she exclaimed. `I only sent you one letter in my life, and that I did not write myself as you must very well know!'

  `What?' demanded Ravenscar incredulously. `Do you stand there telling me you did not beg me to meet you in the Park this evening, because you dared not let it be known by your aunt that you were ready to come to terms with me?'

  An expression of horrified dismay came into Miss Grantham's face. `Show me that letter!' she said, in a stifled voice.

  `I am - thanks to your strategems, ma'am - unable to oblige you. If you want to continue this farce, you may feel for it in the inner pocket of my coat.'

  She hesitated for a moment, and then moved forward, and slid her hand into his pocket. `I do want to see it. If you are not lying to me-'

  `Do not judge me by yourself, I beg of you!' snapped Ravenscar.

  Her fingers found the letter, and drew it forth. One glance at the superscription was enough to confirm her fears. `Oh, good God! Lucius!' she said angrily. She spread open the sheet, and ran her eyes down it. `Infamous!' she ejaculated. `How dared he do such a thing? Oh, I could kill him for this!' She crushed the letter in her hand, and rounded on Ravenscar, the very personification of wrath. `And you! You thought I would write such - such craven stuff? I would die rather! You are the most hateful, odious man I ever met in my life, and if you think I would stoop to such shabby tricks as these, you are a fool, besides being insolent, and overbearing, and-'

  `Are you asking me to believe that the letters I have had from you were not written by you?' interrupted Ravenscar.

  `I don't care what you believe!' replied Miss Grantham, a good deal upset. `Of course I did not write them! I did not want to write to you at all, only Lucius Kennet persuaded me to let him answer that horrid letter of yours. And he did ask me to try to trick you into meeting me, so that he could kidnap you, but I would not do such a thing, and so I told him! Oh, I was never so provoked! I see it all now! That was why he wanted to answer your letter in his own hand, so that you should think it was my writing!' The colour rushed up again into her face; she looked remorsefully down at Ravenscar, and said: `Indeed, I am very sorry, and I quite see that you might be excessively angry with me. The truth is that I told Lucius Kennet and Silas to kidnap you for me, but I thought they could do it without using any horrid strategems! That was fair enough! There could be no possible objection, for how could I kidnap you myself?'

  Mr Ravenscar was sitting in a position of considerable discomfort, with cords cutting into his wrists and ankles; and his head was aching as well, but his lips twitched at this, and he burst out laughing. `Oh, no objection at all, Miss Grantham!'

  `Well, I think it was perfectly fair,' argued Miss Grantham reasonably. `I am very sorry you have been tricked, but what is to be done? It cannot be helped now.'

  `What do you propose to do with me?' inquired Ravenscar.

  `I don't mean to hurt you,' she assured him. `In fact, I told Lucius I did not wish them to hurt you more than was needful, and I do hope they did not?'

  `Oh, not at all, ma'am! I like being hit over the head with cudgels!' he said sardonically.

  Mr Wantage, who had come back into the cellar in time to hear this remark, said: `I disremember when I've been more put-about by anything.' He set down the glass he carried, and proceeded to draw the cork out of a dusty bottle. `I've brought a bottle of the good burgundy, Miss Deb.'

  `Yes, of course,' Deborah said. `You will feel more the thing when you have drunk a little of it, Mr Ravenscar.'

  `I should feel still more the thing if I had a hand free,' replied Ravenscar grimly.

  `Don't you go a-letting of him loose, Miss Deb!' Silas warned her. `We'll keep them bunches of fives of his fast behind his back, or you'll be having a mill in the cellar, which your aunt won't like. Here you are, sir!’

  Mr Ravenscar drank the wine which was being held to his lips, and once more
looked Miss Grantham over. `Well?' he said. `What now, ma'am?'

  `You'd best make haste, Miss Deb,' said Wantage. `I'll have to get back to the front-door, or we shall have I-dunno-he walking into the house.'

  `I don't need you, Silas,' Deborah replied. `You may go now, and leave me to tell Mr Ravenscar what I mean to do.'

  Silas looked a little doubtful, but when his mistress assured him that she had no intention of releasing Mr Ravenscar from his bonds, he consented to withdraw, reminding her, however, to be sure to lock the door securely when she left the cellar.

  `Will you have some more wine, sir?' asked Deborah, apparently conscious of her duties as his hostess.

  `No,' said Ravenscar baldly.

  `You are not very polite!' she said.

  `I do not feel very polite. If you cam to untie my ankles, however, I will engage to offer you my chair.'

  Miss Grantham looked rather distressed. `Indeed, I fear you must be very uncomfortable,' she owned.

  `I am.'

  `Well, I do not see what harm there can be in setting your legs free,' she decided, and knelt down on the stone floor to wrestle with Silas Wantage's knots. `Oh dear, they have bound you shockingly tightly!'

  `I am well aware of that, ma'am.'

  She looked up. `It is of no use to sound so cross. I dare say you would like to murder me, but you should not have tried to threaten me. It was very ungentlemanly of you, let me tell you; and if you thought I could be so easily frightened into giving up your cousin, you see now how mistaken you were! I have brought you here to get that mortgage and those dreadful bills from you.'

  He laughed shortly. `You have missed the mark, Miss Grantham. I don't carry them upon my person.'

  `Oh no! But you can write a letter to your servants, directing them to place the bills in a messenger's hands,' she pointed out.

  He looked down at her bent head. `My good girl, you've mistaken your man! Bring on your thumbscrew and your rack! You will get nothing out of me.'