Redgauntlet: A Tale Of The Eighteenth Century

‘You are not stark mad?’ said Nixon, who now saw he had miscalculated in supposing Nanty’s wild ideas of honour and fidelity could be shaken even by resentment, or by his Protestant partialities. ‘You shall not go back – it is all a joke.’

‘I’ll back to Redgauntlet, and see whether it is a joke he will laugh at.’

‘My life is lost if you do,’ said Nixon – ‘hear reason.’

They were in a clump or cluster of tall furze at the moment they were speaking, about half-way between the pier and the house, but not in a direct line, from which Nixon, whose object it was to gain time, had induced Ewart to diverge insensibly.

He now saw the necessity of taking a desperate resolution. ‘Hear reason,’ he said; and added, as Nanty still endeavoured to pass him, ‘Or else hear this!’ discharging a pocket-pistol into the unfortunate man’s body.

Nanty staggered, but kept his feet. ‘It has cut my back-bone asunder,’ he said; ‘you have done me the last good office, and I will not die ungrateful.’

As he uttered the last words, he collected his remaining strength, stood firm for an instant, drew his hanger, and, fetching a stroke with both hands, cut Cristal Nixon down. The blow, struck with all the energy of a desperate and dying man, exhibited a force to which Ewart’s exhausted frame might have seemed inadequate; – it cleft the hat which the wretch wore, though secured by a plate of iron within the lining, bit deep into his skull, and there left a fragment of the weapon, which was broke by the fury of the blow.

One of the seamen of the lugger, who strolled up attracted by the firing of the pistol, though being a small one the report was very trifling, found both the unfortunate men stark dead. Alarmed at what he saw, which he conceived to have been the consequence of some unsuccessful engagement betwixt his late commander and a revenue officer (for Nixon chanced not to be personally known to him) the sailor hastened back to the boat, in order to apprise his comrades of Nanty’s fate, and to advise them to take off themselves and the vessel.

Meantime Redgauntlet, having, as we have seen, dispatched Nixon for the purpose of securing a retreat for the unfortunate Charles, in case of extremity, returned to the apartment where he had left the Wanderer. He now found him alone.

‘Sir Richard Glendale,’ said the unfortunate prince, ‘with his young friend, has gone to consult their adherents now in the house. Redgauntlet, my friend, I will not blame you for the circumstances in which I find myself, though I am at once placed in danger, and rendered contemptible. But you ought to have stated to me more strongly the weight which these gentlemen attached to their insolent proposition. You should have told me that no compromise would have any effect – that they desire not a prince to govern them, but one, on the contrary, over whom they were to exercise restraint on all occasions, from the highest affairs of the state, down to the most intimate and private concerns of his own privacy, which the most ordinary men desire to keep secret and sacred from interference.’

‘God knows,’ said Redgauntlet, in much agitation, ‘I acted for the best when I pressed your Majesty to come hither – I never thought that your Majesty, at such a crisis, would have scrupled, when a kingdom was in view, to sacrifice an attachment, which’ —

‘Peace, sir!’ said Charles; ‘it is not for you to estimate my feelings upon such a subject.’

Redgauntlet coloured high, and bowed profoundly. ‘At least,’ he resumed, ‘I hoped that some middle way might be found, and it shall – and must. – Come with me, nephew. We will to these gentlemen, and I am confident I will bring back heart-stirring tidings.’

‘I will do much to comply with them, Redgauntlet. I am loath, having again set my foot on British land, to quit it without a blow for my right. But this which they demand of me is a degradation, and compliance is impossible.’

Redgauntlet, followed by his nephew, the unwilling spectator of this extraordinary scene, left once more the apartment of the adventurous Wanderer, and was met on the top of the stairs by Joe Crackenthorp. ‘Where are the other gentlemen?’ he said.

‘Yonder, in the west barrack,’ answered Joe; ‘but Master Ingoldsby,’ – that was the name by which Redgauntlet was most generally known in Cumberland, – ‘I wish to say to you that I must put yonder folk together in one room.’

‘What folk?’ said Redgauntlet, impatiently.

‘Why, them prisoner stranger folk, as you bid Cristal Nixon look after. Lord love you! this is a large house enow, but we cannot have separate lock-ups for folk, as they have in Newgate or in Bedlam. Yonder’s a mad beggar, that is to be a great man when he wins a lawsuit, Lord help him! – Yonder’s a Quaker and a lawyer charged with a riot; and, ecod, I must make one key and one lock keep them, for we are chokeful, and you have sent off old Nixon that could have given one some help in this confusion. Besides, they take up every one a room, and call for naughts on earth, – excepting the old man, who calls lustily enough, – but he has not a penny to pay shot.’

‘Do as thou wilt with them,’ said Redgauntlet, who had listened impatiently to his statement; ‘so thou dost but keep them from getting out and making some alarm in the country, I care not.’

‘A Quaker and a lawyer!’ said Darsie. ‘This must be Fairford and Geddes. – Uncle, I must request of you’ —

‘Nay, nephew,’ interrupted Redgauntlet, ‘this is no time for asking questions. You shall yourself decide upon their fate in the course of an hour – no harm whatever is designed them.’

So saying, he hurried towards the place where the Jacobite gentlemen were holding their council, and Darsie followed him, in the hope that the obstacle which had arisen to the prosecution of their desperate adventure would prove insurmountable and spare him the necessity of a dangerous and violent rupture with his uncle. The discussions among them were very eager; the more daring part of the conspirators, who had little but life to lose, being desirous to proceed at all hazards; while the others, whom a sense of honour and a hesitation to disavow long-cherished principles had brought forward, were perhaps not ill satisfied to have a fair apology for declining an adventure, into which they had entered with more of reluctance than zeal.

Meanwhile Joe Crackenthorp, availing himself of the hasty permission attained from Redgauntlet, proceeded to assemble in one apartment those whose safe custody had been thought necessary; and, without much considering the propriety of the matter, he selected for the common place of confinement, the room which Lilias had, since her brother’s departure, occupied alone. It had a strong lock, and was double-hinged, which probably led to the preference assigned to it, as a place of security.

Into this, Joe, with little ceremony, and a good deal of noise, introduced the Quaker and Fairford; the first descanting on the immorality, the other on the illegality, of his proceedings; and he turned a deaf ear both to the one and the other. Next he pushed in, almost in headlong fashion, the unfortunate litigant, who, having made some resistance at the threshold, had received a violent thrust in consequence, and came rushing forward, like a ram in the act of charging, with such impetus as must have carried him to the top of the room, and struck the cocked hat which sat perched on the top of his tow wig against Miss Redgauntlet’s person, had not the honest Quaker interrupted his career by seizing him by the collar, and bringing him to a stand. ‘Friend,’ said he, with the real good-breeding which so often subsists independently of ceremony, ‘thou art no company for that young person; she is, thou seest, frightened at our being so suddenly thrust in hither; and although that be no fault of ours, yet it will become us to behave civilly towards her. Wherefore come thou with me to this window, and I will tell thee what it concerns thee to know.’

‘And what for should I no speak to the Leddy, friend?’ said Peter, who was now about half seas over. ‘I have spoke to leddies before now, man. What for should she be frightened at me? I am nae bogle, I ween. What are ye pooin’ me that gate for? Ye will rive my coat, and I will have a good action for having myself made SARTUM ATQUE TECTUM at your expenses.’

Notwithstanding this threat, Mr. Geddes, whose muscles were as strong as his judgement was sound and his temper sedate, led Poor Peter under the sense of a control against which he could not struggle, to the farther corner of the apartment, where, placing him, whether he would or no, in a chair, he sat down beside him, and effectually prevented his annoying the young lady, upon whom he had seemed bent upon conferring the delights of his society.

If Peter had immediately recognized his counsel learned in the law, it is probable that not even the benevolent efforts of the Quaker could have kept him in a state of restraint; but Fairford’s back was turned towards his client, whose optics, besides being somewhat dazzled with ale and brandy, were speedily engaged in contemplating a half-crown which Joshua held between his finger and his thumb, saying, at the same time, ‘Friend, thou art indigent and improvident. This will, well employed, procure thee sustentation of nature for more than a single day; and I will bestow it on thee if thou wilt sit here and keep me company; for neither thou nor I, friend, are fit company for ladies.’

‘Speak for yourself, friend,’ said Peter, scornfully; ‘I was ay kend to be agreeable to the fair sex; and when I was in business I served the ladies wi’ anither sort of decorum than Plainstanes, the d – d awkward scoundrel! It was one of the articles of dittay between us.’

‘Well, but, friend,’ said the Quaker, who observed that the young lady still seemed to fear Peter’s intrusion, ‘I wish to hear thee speak about this great lawsuit of thine, which has been matter of such celebrity.’

‘Celebrity! Ye may swear that,’ said Peter, for the string was touched to which his crazy imagination always vibrated. ‘And I dinna wonder that folk that judge things by their outward grandeur, should think me something worth their envying. It’s very true that it is grandeur upon earth to hear ane’s name thunnered out along the long-arched roof of the Outer House, – “Poor Peter Peebles against Plainstanes ET PER CONTRA;” a’ the best lawyers in the house fleeing like eagles to the prey; some because they are in the cause, and some because they want to be thought engaged (for there are tricks in other trades by selling muslins) – to see the reporters mending their pens to take down the debate – the Lords themselves pooin’ in their chairs, like folk sitting down to a gude dinner, and crying on the clerks for parts and pendicles of the process, who, puir bodies, can do little mair than cry on their closet-keepers to help them. To see a’ this,’ continued Peter, in a tone of sustained rapture, ‘and to ken that naething will be said or dune amang a’ thae grand folk, for maybe the feck of three hours, saving what concerns you and your business – Oh, man, nae wonder that ye judge this to be earthly glory! And yet, neighbour, as I was saying, there be unco drawbacks – I whiles think of my bit house, where dinner, and supper, and breakfast, used to come without the crying for, just as if fairies had brought it – and the gude bed at e’en – and the needfu’ penny in the pouch. And then to see a’ ane’s warldly substance capering in the air in a pair of weighbauks, now up, now down, as the breath of judge or counsel inclines it for pursuer or defender, – troth, man, there are times I rue having ever begun the plea wark, though, maybe, when ye consider the renown and credit I have by it, ye will hardly believe what I am saying.’

‘Indeed, friend,’ said Joshua, with a sigh, ‘I am glad thou hast found anything in the legal contention which compensates thee for poverty and hunger; but I believe, were other human objects of ambition looked upon as closely, their advantages would be found as chimerical as those attending thy protracted litigation.’

‘But never mind, friend,’ said Peter, ‘I’ll tell you the exact state of the conjunct processes, and make you sensible that I can bring mysell round with a wet finger, now I have my finger and my thumb on this loup-the-dike loon, the lad Fairford.’

Alan Fairford was in the act of speaking to the masked lady (for Miss Redgauntlet had retained her riding vizard) endeavouring to assure her, as he perceived her anxiety, of such protection as he could afford, when his own name, pronounced in a loud tone, attracted his attention. He looked round, and seeing Peter Peebles, as hastily turned to avoid his notice, in which he succeeded, so earnest was Peter upon his colloquy with one of the most respectable auditors whose attention he had ever been able to engage. And by this little motion, momentary as it was, Alan gained an unexpected advantage; for while he looked round, Miss Lilias, I could never ascertain why, took the moment to adjust her mask, and did it so awkwardly, that when her companion again turned his head, he recognized as much of her features as authorized him to address her as his fair client, and to press his offers of protection and assistance with the boldness of a former acquaintance.

Lilias Redgauntlet withdrew the mask from her crimsoned cheek. ‘Mr. Fairford,’ she said, in a voice almost inaudible, ‘you have the character of a young gentleman of sense and generosity; but we have already met in one situation which you must think singular; and I must be exposed to misconstruction, at least, for my forwardness, were it not in a cause in which my dearest affections were concerned.’

‘Any interest in my beloved friend Darsie Latimer,’ said Fairford, stepping a little back, and putting a marked restraint upon his former advances, ‘gives me a double right to be useful to’ – He stopped short.

‘To his sister, your goodness would say,’ answered Lilias.

‘His sister, madam!’ replied Alan, in the extremity of astonishment – ‘Sister, I presume, in affection only?’

‘No, sir; my dear brother Darsie and I are connected by the bonds of actual relationship; and I am not sorry to be the first to tell this to the friend he most values.’

Fairford’s first thought was on the violent passion which Darsie had expressed towards the fair unknown. ‘Good God!’ he exclaimed, ‘how did he bear the discovery?’

‘With resignation, I hope,’ said Lilias, smiling. ‘A more accomplished sister he might easily have come by, but scarcely could have found one who could love him more than I do.’

‘I meant – I only meant to say,’ said the young counsellor, his presence of mind failing him for an instant – ‘that is, I meant to ask where Darsie Latimer is at this moment.’

‘In this very house, and under the guardianship of his uncle, whom I believe you knew as a visitor of your father, under the name of Mr. Herries of Birrenswork.’

‘Let me hasten to him,’ said Fairford; ‘I have sought him through difficulties and dangers – I must see him instantly.’

‘You forget you are a prisoner,’ said the young lady.

‘True – true; but I cannot be long detained – the cause alleged is too ridiculous.’

‘Alas!’ said Lilias, ‘our fate – my brother’s and mine, at least – must turn on the deliberations perhaps of less than an hour. For you, sir, I believe and apprehend nothing; but some restraint; my uncle is neither cruel nor unjust, though few will go further in the cause which he has adopted.’

‘Which is that of the Pretend’ —

‘For God’s sake speak lower!’ said Lilias, approaching her hand, as if to stop him. ‘The word may cost you your life. You do not know – indeed you do not – the terrors of the situation in which we at present stand, and in which I fear you also are involved by your friendship for my brother.’

‘I do not indeed know the particulars of our situation,’ said Fairford; ‘but, be the danger what it may, I shall not grudge my share of it for the sake of my friend; or,’ he added, with more timidity, ‘of my friend’s sister. Let me hope,’ he said, ‘my dear Miss Latimer, that my presence may be of some use to you; and that it may be so, let me entreat a share of your confidence, which I am conscious I have otherwise no right to ask.’

He led her, as he spoke, towards the recess of the farther window of the room, and observing to her that, unhappily, he was particularly exposed to interruption from the mad old man whose entrance had alarmed her, he disposed of Darsie Latimer’s riding-skirt, which had been left in the apartment, over the back of two chairs, forming thus a sort of screen, behind which he ensconced himself with the maiden of the green mantle; feeling at the moment, that the danger in which he was placed was almost compensated by the intelligence which permitted those feelings towards her to revive, which justice to his friend had induced him to stifle in the birth.

The relative situation of adviser and advised, of protector and protected, is so peculiarly suited to the respective condition of man and woman, that great progress towards intimacy is often made in very short space; for the circumstances call for confidence on the part of the gentleman, and forbid coyness on that of the lady, so that the usual barriers against easy intercourse are at once thrown down.

Under these circumstances, securing themselves as far as possible from observation, conversing in whispers, and seated in a corner, where they were brought into so close contact that their faces nearly touched each other, Fairford heard from Lilias Redgauntlet the history of her family, particularly of her uncle; his views upon her brother, and the agony which she felt, lest at that very moment he might succeed in engaging Darsie in some desperate scheme, fatal to his fortune and perhaps to his life.

Alan Fairford’s acute understanding instantly connected what he had heard with the circumstances he had witnessed at Fairladies. His first thought was, to attempt, at all risks, his instant escape, and procure assistance powerful enough to crush, in the very cradle, a conspiracy of such a determined character. This he did not consider as difficult; for, though the door was guarded on the outside, the window, which was not above ten feet from the ground, was open for escape, the common on which it looked was unenclosed, and profusely covered with furze. There would, he thought, be little difficulty in effecting his liberty, and in concealing his course after he had gained it.

But Lilias exclaimed against this scheme. Her uncle, she said, was a man who, in his moments of enthusiasm, knew neither remorse nor fear. He was capable of visiting upon Darsie any injury which he might conceive Fairford had rendered him – he was her near kinsman also, and not an unkind one, and she deprecated any effort, even in her brother’s favour, by which his life must be exposed to danger. Fairford himself remembered Father Buonaventure, and made little question but that he was one of the sons of the old Chevalier de Saint George; and with feelings which, although contradictory of his public duty, can hardly be much censured, his heart recoiled from being the agent by whom the last scion of such a long line of Scottish princes should be rooted up. He then thought of obtaining an audience, if possible, of this devoted person, and explaining to him the utter hopelessness of his undertaking, which he judged it likely that the ardour of his partisans might have concealed from him. But he relinquished this design as soon as formed. He had no doubt, that any light which he could throw on the state of the country, would come too late to be serviceable to one who was always reported to have his own full share of the hereditary obstinacy which had cost his ancestors so dear, and who, in drawing the sword, must have thrown from him the scabbard.

Lilias suggested the advice which, of all others, seemed most suited to the occasion, that, yielding, namely, to the circumstances of their situation, they should watch carefully when Darsie should obtain any degree of freedom, and endeavour to open a communication with him, in which case their joint flight might be effected, and without endangering the safety of any one.

Their youthful deliberation had nearly fixed in this point, when Fairford, who was listening to the low sweet whispering tones of Lilias Redgauntlet, rendered yet more interesting by some slight touch of foreign accent, was startled by a heavy hand which descended with full weight on his shoulder, while the discordant voice of Peter Peebles, who had at length broke loose from the well-meaning Quaker, exclaimed in the ear of his truant counsel – ‘Aha, lad! I think ye are catched – An’ so ye are turned chamber-counsel, are ye? And ye have drawn up wi’ clients in scarfs and hoods? But bide a wee, billie, and see if I dinna sort ye when my petition and complaint comes to be discussed, with or without answers, under certification.’

Alan Fairford had never more difficulty in his life to subdue a first emotion, than he had to refrain from knocking down the crazy blockhead who had broken in upon him at such a moment. But the length of Peter’s address gave him time, fortunately perhaps for both parties, to reflect on the extreme irregularity of such a proceeding. He stood silent, however, with vexation, while Peter went on.

‘Weel, my bonnie man, I see ye are thinking shame o’ yoursell, and nae great wonder. Ye maun leave this quean – the like of her is ower light company for you. I have heard honest Mr. Pest say, that the gown grees ill wi’ the petticoat. But come awa hame to your puir father, and I’ll take care of you the haill gate, and keep you company, and deil a word we will speak about, but just the state of the conjoined processes of the great cause of Poor Peter Peebles against Plainstanes.’

‘If thou canst; endure to hear as much of that suit, friend,’ said the Quaker, ‘as I have heard out of mere compassion for thee, I think verily thou wilt soon be at the bottom of the matter, unless it be altogether bottomless.’

Fairford shook off, rather indignantly, the large bony hand which Peter had imposed upon his shoulder, and was about to say something peevish, upon so unpleasant and insolent a mode of interruption, when the door opened, a treble voice saying to the sentinel, ‘I tell you I maun be in, to see if Mr. Nixon’s here;’ and little Benjie thrust in his mop-head and keen black eyes. Ere he could withdraw it, Peter Peebles sprang to the door, seized on the boy by the collar, and dragged him forward into the room.

‘Let me see it,’ he said, ‘ye ne’er-do-weel limb of Satan – I’ll gar you satisfy the production, I trow – I’ll hae first and second diligence against you, ye deevil’s buckie!’

‘What dost thou want?’ said the Quaker, interfering; ‘why dost thou frighten the boy, friend Peebles?’

‘I gave the bastard a penny to buy me snuff,’ said the pauper, ‘and he has rendered no account of his intromissions; but I’ll gar him as gude.’

So saying, he proceeded forcibly to rifle the pockets of Benjie’s ragged jacket of one or two snares for game, marbles, a half-bitten apple, two stolen eggs (one of which Peter broke in the eagerness of his research), and various other unconsidered trifles, which had not the air of being very honestly come by. The little rascal, under this discipline, bit and struggled like a fox-cub, but, like that vermin, uttered neither cry nor complaint, till a note, which Peter tore from his bosom, flew as far as Lilias Redgauntlet, and fell at her feet. It was addressed to C. N.

‘It is for the villain Nixon.’ she said to Alan Fairford; ‘open it without scruple; that boy is his emissary; we shall now see what the miscreant is driving at.’

Little Benjie now gave up all further struggle, and suffered Peebles to take from him, without resistance, a shilling, out of which Peter declared he would pay himself principal and interest, and account for the balance. The boy, whose attention seemed fixed on something very different, only said, ‘Maister Nixon will murder me!’

Alan Fairford did not hesitate to read the little scrap of paper, on which was written, ‘All is prepared – keep them in play until I come up. You may depend on your reward. – C. C.’

‘Alas, my uncle – my poor uncle!’ said Lilias; ‘this is the result of his confidence. Methinks, to give him instant notice of his confidant’s treachery, is now the best service we can render all concerned – if they break up their undertaking, as they must now do, Darsie will be at liberty.’