The Castle Inn: Chapter 26

Chapter 26

BOON COMPANIONS

Lord Almeric flew down the stairs on the wings of triumph, rehearsing at
each corner the words in which he would announce his conquest. He found
his host and the tutor sitting together in the parlour, in the middle of
a game of shilling hazard; which they were playing, the former with as
much enjoyment and the latter with as much good-humour as consisted with
the fact that Mr. Pomeroy was losing, and Mr. Thomasson played against
his will. The weather had changed for the worse since morning. The sky
was leaden, the trees were dripping, the rain hung in rows of drops
along the rails that flanked the avenue. Mr. Pomeroy cursed the damp
hole he owned and sighed for town and the Cocoa Tree. The tutor wished
he were quit of the company--and his debts. And both were so far from
suspecting what had happened upstairs, though the tutor had his hopes,
that Mr. Pomeroy was offering three to one against his friend, when Lord
Almeric danced in upon them.

'Give me joy!' he cried breathless. 'D'you hear, Pom? She'll take me,
and I have bussed her! March could not have done it quicker! She's mine,
and the pool! She is mine! Give me joy!'

Mr. Thomasson lost not a minute in rising and shaking him by the hand.
'My dear lord,' he said, in a voice rendered unusually rich and mellow
by the prospect of five thousand pounds, 'you make me infinitely happy.
You do indeed! I give your lordship joy! I assure you that it will ever
be a matter of the deepest satisfaction to me that I was the cause under
Providence of her presence here! A fine woman, my lord, and a--a
commensurate fortune!'

'A fine woman? Gad! you'd say so if you had held her in your arms!'
cried my lord, strutting and lying.

'I am sure,' Mr. Thomasson hastened to say, 'your lordship is every way
to be congratulated.'

'Gad! you'd say so, Tommy!' the other repeated with a wink. He was in
the seventh heaven of delight.

So far all went swimmingly, neither of them remarking that Mr. Pomeroy
kept silence. But at this point the tutor, whose temper it was to be
uneasy unless all were on his side, happened to turn, saw that he kept
his seat, and was struck with the blackness of his look. Anxious to
smooth over any unpleasantness, and to recall him to the requirements of
the occasion, 'Come, Mr. Pomeroy,' he cried jestingly, 'shall we drink
her ladyship, or is it too early in the day?'

Bully Pomeroy thrust his hands deep into his breeches pockets and did
not budge. ''Twill be time to drink her when the ring is on!' he said,
with an ugly sneer.

'Oh, I vow and protest that's ungenteel,' my lord complained. 'I vow and
protest it is!' he repeated querulously. 'See here, Pom, if you had won
her I'd not treat you like this!'

'Your lordship has not won her yet,' was the churlish answer.

'But she has said it, I tell you. She said she'd have me.'

'She won't be the first woman has altered her mind, nor the last,' Mr.
Pomeroy retorted with an oath. 'You may be amazing sure of that, my
lord.' And muttering something about a woman and a fool being near akin,
he spurned a dog out of his way, overset a chair, and strode cursing
from the room.

Lord Almeric stared after him, his face a queer mixture of vanity and
dismay. At last, 'Strikes me, Tommy, he's uncommon hard hit,' he said,
with a simper. 'He must have made surprising sure of her. Ah!' he
continued with a chuckle, as he passed his hand delicately over his
well-curled wig, and glanced at a narrow black-framed mirror that stood
between the windows. 'He is a bit too old for the women, is Pom. They
run to something lighter in hand. Besides, there's a--a way with the
pretty creatures, if you take me, and Pom has not got it. Now I flatter
myself I have, Tommy, and Julia--it is a sweet name, Julia, don't you
think?--Julia is of that way of thinking. Lord! I know women,' his
lordship continued, beaming the happier the longer he talked. 'It is not
what a man has, or what he has done, or even his taste in a coat or a
wig--though, mind you, a French friseur does a deal to help men to
_bonnes fortunes_--but it is a sort of a way one has. The silly
creatures cannot stand against it.'

Mr. Thomasson hastened to agree, and to vouch her future ladyship's
flame in proof of my lord's prowess. But the tutor was a timid man; and
the more perfect the contentment with which he viewed the turn things
had taken, and the more nearly within his grasp seemed his five
thousand, the graver was the misgiving with which he regarded Mr.
Pomeroy's attitude. He had no notion what shape that gentleman's
hostility might take, nor how far his truculence might aspire. But he
guessed that Lord Almeric's victory had convinced the elder man that his
task would have been easy had the cards favoured him; and when a little
later in the day he saw Pomeroy walking in the park in the drenching
rain, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his wrap-rascal and his
chin bent on his breast, he trembled. He knew that when men of Mr.
Pomeroy's class take to thinking, some one is likely to lose.

At dinner the tutor's fears were temporarily lulled. Mr. Pomeroy put in
a sulky appearance, but his gloom, it was presently manifest, was due to
the burden of an apology; which, being lamely offered and readily
accepted, he relapsed into his ordinary brusque and reckless mood,
swearing that they would have the lady down and drink her, or if that
were not pleasing, 'Damme, we'll drink her any way!' he continued. 'I
was a toad this morning. No offence meant, my lord. Lover's license, you
know. You can afford to be generous, having won the pool.'

'And the maid,' my lord said with a simper. 'Burn me! you are a good
fellow, Pom. Give me your hand. You shall see her after dinner. She said
to-morrow; but, hang me! I'll to her this evening.'

Mr. Pomeroy expressed himself properly gratified, adding demurely that
he would play no tricks.

'No, hang me! no tricks!' my lord cried somewhat alarmed. 'Not that--'

'Not that I am likely to displace your lordship, her affections once
gained,' said Mr. Pomeroy.

He lowered his face to hide a smile of bitter derision, but he might
have spared his pains; for Lord Almeric, never very wise, was blinded by
vanity. 'No, I should think not,' he said, with a conceit which came
near to deserving the other's contempt. 'I should think not, Tommy. Give
me twenty minutes of a start, as Jack Wilkes says, and you may follow as
you please. I rather fancy I brought down the bird at the first shot?'

'Certainly, my lord.'

'I did, didn't I?'

'Most certainly, your lordship did,' repeated the obsequious tutor;
who, basking in the smiles of his host's good-humour, began to think
that things would run smoothly after all. So the lady was toasted, and
toasted again. Nay, so great was Mr. Pomeroy's complaisance and so easy
his mood, he must needs have up three or four bottles of Brooks and
Hellier that had lain in the cellar half a century--the last of a
batch--and give her a third time in bumpers and no heel-taps.

But that opened Mr. Thomasson's eyes. He saw that Pomeroy had reverted
to his idea of the night before, and was bent on making the young fop
drunk, and exposing him in that state to his mistress; perhaps had the
notion of pushing him on some rudeness that, unless she proved very
compliant indeed, must ruin him for ever with her. Three was their
dinner hour; it was not yet four, yet already the young lord was flushed
and a little flustered, talked fast, swore at Jarvey, and bragged of the
girl lightly and without reserve. By six o'clock, if something were not
done, he would be unmanageable.

The tutor stood in no little awe of his host. He had tremors down his
back when he thought of his violence; nor was this dogged persistence in
a design, as cruel as it was cunning, calculated to lessen the feeling.
But he had five thousand pounds at stake, a fortune on which he had been
pluming himself since noon; it was no time for hesitation. They were
dining in the hall at the table at which they had played cards the night
before, Jarvey and Lord Almeric's servant attending them. Between the
table and the staircase was a screen. The next time Lord Almeric's glass
was filled, the tutor, in reaching something, upset the glass and its
contents over his own breeches, and amid the laughter of the other two
retired behind the screen to be wiped. There he slipped a crown into the
servant's hand, and whispered him to keep his master sober and he should
have another.

Mr. Pomeroy saw nothing and heard nothing, and for a time suspected
nothing. The servant was a crafty fellow, a London rascal, deft at
whipping away full bottles. He was an age finding a clean glass, and
slow in drawing the next cork. He filled the host's bumper, and Mr.
Thomasson's, and had but half a glass for his master. The next bottle he
impudently pronounced corked, and when Pomeroy cursed him for a liar,
brought him some in an unwashed glass that had been used for Bordeaux.
The wine was condemned, and went out; and though Pomeroy, with
unflagging spirits, roared to Jarvey to open the other bottles, the
butler had got the office, and was slow to bring them. The cheese came
and went, and left Lord Almeric cooler than it found him. The tutor was
overjoyed at the success of his tactics.

But when the board was cleared, and the bottles were set on, and the men
withdrawn, Bully Pomeroy began to push what remained of the Brooks and
Hellier after a fashion that boded an early defeat to the tutor's
precautions. It was in vain Thomasson clung to the bottle and sometimes
returned it Hertfordshire fashion. The only result was that Mr. Pomeroy
smelt a rat, gave Lord Almeric a back-hander, and sent the bottle on
again, with a grin that told the tutor he was understood.

After that Mr. Thomasson had the choice between sitting still and taking
his own part. It was neck or nothing. Lord Almeric was already
hiccoughing and would soon be talking thickly. The next time the bottle
came round, the tutor retained it, and when Lord Almeric reached, for
it, 'No, my lord,' he said, laughing; 'Venus first and Bacchus
afterwards. Your lordship has to wait on the lady. When you come down,
with Mr. Pomeroy's leave, we'll crack another bottle.'

My lord withdrew his hand more readily than the other had hoped. 'Right,
Tommy,' he said. 'I'll wait till I come down. What's that song, "Rich
the treasure, sweet the pleasure, sweet is pleasure after pain"? Oh, no,
damme! I don't mean that,' he continued. 'No. How does it go?'

Mr. Pomeroy thrust the bottle into his hands, looking daggers the while
at the tutor. 'Take another glass,' he cried boisterously. ''Swounds,
the girl will like you the better for it.'

'D'ye think so, Pom? Honest?'

'Sure of it. 'Twill give you spirit, my lord.'

'So it will.'

'At her and kiss her! Are you going to be governed all your life by that
whey-faced old Methodist? Or be your own man? Tell me that.'

'My lord, there's fifty thousand pounds upon it,' Thomasson said, his
face red. And he pushed back the bottle. The setting sun, peeping a
moment through the rain clouds and the low-browed lattice windows, flung
an angry yellow light on the board and the three flushed faces round it.
'Fifty thousand pounds,' repeated Mr. Thomasson firmly.

'Damme! so there is!' my lord answered, settling his chin in his cravat
and dusting the crumbs from his breeches. 'I'll take no more. So there!'

'I thought your lordship was a good-humoured man and no flincher,' Mr.
Pomeroy retorted with a sneer.

'Oh, I vow and protest--if you put it that way,' the weakling answered,
once more extending his hand, the fingers of which closed lovingly round
the bottle, 'I cannot refuse. Positively I cannot.'

'Fifty thousand pounds!' the tutor said, shrugging his shoulders.

Lord Almeric drew back his hand.

'Why, she'll like you the better!' Pomeroy cried fiercely, as he thrust
the bottle to him again. 'D'you think a woman doesn't love an easy
husband? And wouldn't rather have a good fellow than a thread-paper?'

'Mr. Pomeroy! Mr. Pomeroy!' the tutor said. Such words used of a lord
shocked him.

'A milksop! A thing of curds and whey!'

'After marriage, yes,' the tutor muttered, pitching his voice cleverly
in Lord Almeric's ear, and winking as he leant towards him. 'But your
lordship has a great stake in't; and to abstain one night--why, sure, my
lord, it's a small thing to do for a fine woman and a fortune.'

'Hang me! so it is!' Lord Almeric answered. 'You are a good friend to
me, Tommy.' And he flung his glass crashing into the fireplace. 'No,
Pom; you'd bubble me. You want the pretty charmer yourself. But I'll be
hanged if you shall have her. I'll walk, my boy, I'll walk, and at six
I'll go to her, and take you too. And mind you, no tricks, Pom. Lord! I
know women as well as I know my own head in the glass. You don't
bite me.'

Pomeroy, with a face like thunder, did not answer; and Lord Almeric,
walking a little unsteadily, went to the door, and a moment later became
visible through one of the windows. He stood awhile, his back towards
them, now sniffing the evening air, and now, with due regard to his
mixed silk coat, taking a pinch of snuff.

Mr. Thomasson, his heart beating, wished he had had the courage to go
with him. But this would have been to break with his host beyond
mending; and it was now too late. He was still seeking a propitiatory
phrase with which to break the oppressive silence, when Pomeroy
anticipated him.

'You think yourself vastly clever, Mr. Tutor,' he growled, his voice
hoarse with anger. 'You think a bird in the hand is worth two in the
bush, I see.'

'Ten in the bush,' Mr. Thomasson answered, affecting an easiness he did
not feel. 'Ten fives are fifty.'

'Two in the bush I said, and two in the bush I mean,' the other
retorted, his voice still low. 'Take it or leave it,' he continued, with
a muttered oath and a swift side glance at the windows, through which
Lord Almeric was still visible, walking slowly to and fro, and often
standing. 'If you want it firm, I'll put it in black and white. Ten
thousand, or security, the day after we come from church.'

The tutor was silent a moment. Then, 'It is too far in the bush,' he
answered in a low voice. 'I am willing enough to serve you, Mr. Pomeroy.
I assure you, my dear sir, I desire nothing better. But if--if his
lordship were dismissed, you'd be as far off as ever. And I should lose
my bird in hand.'

'She took him. Why should she not take me?'

'He has--no offence--a title, Mr. Pomeroy.'

'And is a fool.'

Mr. Thomasson raised his hands in deprecation. Such a saying, spoken of
a lord, really offended him. But his words went to another point.
'Besides, it's a marriage-brocage contract, and void,' he muttered.
'Void in law.'

'You don't trust me?'

''Twould be of no use, Mr. Pomeroy,' the tutor answered, gently shaking
his head, and avoiding the issue presented to him. 'You could not
persuade her. She was in such a humour to-day, my lord had special
advantages. Break it off between them, and she'll come to herself. And
she is wilful--Lord! you don't know her! Petruchio could not tame her.'

'I know nothing about Petruchio,' Mr. Pomeroy answered grimly. 'Nor who
the gentleman was. But I've ways of my own. You can leave that to me.'

But Mr. Thomasson, who had only parleyed out of compliance, took fright
at that, and rose from the table, shaking his head.

'You won't do it?' Mr. Pomeroy said.

The tutor shook his head again, with a sickly smile. ''Tis too far in
the bush,' he said.

'Ten thousand,' Mr. Pomeroy persisted, his eyes on the other's face.
'Man,' he continued forcibly, 'Do you think you will ever have such a
chance again? Ten thousand! Why, 'tis eight hundred a year. 'Tis a
gentleman's fortune.'

For a moment Mr. Thomasson did waver. Then he put the temptation from
him, and shook his head. 'You must pardon me, Mr. Pomeroy,' he said. 'I
cannot do it.'

'Will not!' Pomeroy cried harshly. 'Will not!' And would have said more,
but at that moment Jarvey entered behind him.

'Please, your honour,' the man said, 'the lady would see my lord.'

'Oh!' Pomeroy answered coarsely, 'she is impatient, is she? Devil take
her for me! And him too!' And he sat sulkily in his place.

But the interruption suited Mr. Thomasson perfectly. He went to the
outer door, and, opening it, called Lord Almeric, who, hearing what was
afoot, hurried in.

'Sent for me!' he cried, pressing his hat to his breast. 'Dear
creature!' and he kissed his fingers to the gallery. 'Positively she is
the daintiest, sweetest morsel ever wore a petticoat! I vow and protest
I am in love with her! It were brutal not to be, and she so fond! I'll
to her at once! Tell her I fly! I stay for a dash of bergamot, and I am
with her!'

'I thought that you were going to take us with you,' said Mr. Pomeroy,
watching him sourly.

'I will! 'Pon honour, I will!' replied the delighted beau. 'But she
will soon find a way to dismiss you, the cunning baggage! and then,
"Sweet is pleasure after pain." Ha! Ha! I have it aright this time.
Sweet is Plea--oh! the doting rascal! But let us to her! I vow, if she
is not civil to you, I'll--I'll be cold to her!'

Back to chapter list of: The Castle Inn