Джорджетт Хейер - The Toll-Gate

He had listened in silence to what he guessed to be the overflowing of pent-up anxieties, but when she paused, unconsciously gripping his shirt-sleeve, he said quietly, lifting her hand from his arm, and holding it in a warm clasp: “Why?”

“Because when the master goes she’ll be alone! And not a penny in the world but the little her mother left her, and that not enough to buy her clothes with!”

“But she has other relatives, surely! She spoke to me of an aunt—”

“If it’s my Lady Rivington you’re meaning, sir, it’s little she’d trouble herself over Miss Nell, and nor would any of poor Mrs. Stornaway’s family! Why, when she was a bit of a girl, and the master persuaded her ladyship to bring her out, it was him paid for all, and I know the way her ladyship, and the Misses Rivington, looked down on her, because she was so tall, and more like a boy than a girl!”

“I see.” John patted her hand, and released it. “You go home now, Rose, and don’t you fret about Miss Nell!”

She thrust a hand into her pocket for a handkerchief, and rather violently blew her nose. “I shouldn’t have said anything!” she uttered, somewhat thickly.

“It’s of no consequence. I should have discovered it.”

She gave a final sniff, and restored the handkerchief to her pocket. “I’m sure I don’t know what possessed me, except for you being so big, sir!”

He could not help laughing. “Good God, what has that to say to anything?”

“You wouldn’t understand—not being a female,” she replied, sighing. “I’ll be going now, sir—and thank you!”

AN hour later, Miss Stornaway’s shabby gig drew up at the toll-gate, and her henchman, jumping down, tendered three coins to John, with a broad wink, and demanded a ticket opening the only other gate that lay between Crowford and Tideswell. But John had already provided himself with this, and he waved away the coins, which made Nell exclaim against him for cheating the trustees.

“Nothing of the sort!” he replied, climbing into the gig. “I’m not one of those who are able—as the saying goes—to buy an Abbey, but I was born to a modest independence, and I would scorn to cheat the trustees!”

“But you should not be obliged to buy the ticket for my carriage!” she objected.

“Oh, there was no obligation! I hoped to impress you by making such a handsome gesture,” he said gravely.

“Sporting the blunt!” she retaliated, casting a challenging look at him to see how he took this dashing phrase.

“Exactly so!” he said.

A gurgle of laughter escaped her. “How absurd you are! Are you never serious, Captain Staple?”

“Why, yes, sometimes, Miss Stornaway!” She smiled, and drove on for a few moments without speaking. She was not, he thought, shy, but there was a little constraint in her manner, which had been absent from it on the previous day. After a pause, she said, as though she felt it incumbent upon her to make some remark: “I hope you do not dislike to be driven by a female, sir?”

“Not when the female handles the ribbons as well as you do, ma’am,” he replied.

“Thank you! It needs no particular skill to drive Squirrel, but I was always accounted a good whip. I can drive a tandem,” she added, with a touch of pride. “My grandfather taught me.”

“Didn’t your grandfather win a curricle race against Sir John Lade once?”

“Yes, indeed he did! But that was long ago.” A tiny sigh accompanied the words, and as though to cover it, she said, in a rallying tone: “I had meant to pass you off as the stable boy, you know, but you are so smart today I see it will not do!”

He was wearing his riding-coat and topboots, and his neckcloth was arranged with military neatness. There was nothing of the dandy in his appearance, but his coat was well cut, and, in striking contrast to Henry Stornaway’s buckish friend, he looked very much the gentleman.

He stretched out one leg, and grimaced at it. “I did my best,” he admitted, “but, lord, how right my man was about these leathers of mine! He gave me to understand no one could clean them but himself. I don’t know how that may be, but I certainly can’t! My boots are a disgrace to me, too, but that might be the fault of Brean’s blacking.”

She laughed. “Nonsense! I only wish Rose might see you! You have met Rose, so you will not be surprised to learn that she cannot approve of a gentleman’s being seen on the highway in his shirt.”

“Torn, too, but she has promised to mend it for me. I am very much obliged to her, and not only for that cause. She came to see whether I was a fit and proper person to be permitted to go with you to Tideswell, and she decided that I was.”

“Yes, she did. I beg your pardon! but she was used to be my nurse, you know, and nothing will persuade her that I am twenty-six years of age, and very well able to take care of myself. She is the dearest creature, but she is for ever preaching propriety to me.”

“I should think she has some pretty strong notions of propriety,” he agreed.

“Alas, poor Rose, she has indeed, and they have all been overset!”

He was watching her profile, thinking how delightfully she smiled, and how surely her expressive countenance reflected her changing moods. “Have they? How did that come about?” he said.

She looked mischievous, chuckling deep In her throat. “She is in love with a highwayman!”

“What? Oh, no, impossible!”

“I assure you! She won’t admit it—never speaks of it!—but it’s quite true. I know nothing, of course! If I dare to question her I get nothing for my pains but a tremendous scold, and when I was saucy enough to ask her if he does not come secretly to Kellands to see her she would have boxed my ears, could she but have reached them! But I am very sure he does. And the ridiculous thing is that she is the most respectable creature alive, and very nearly forty years old! I daresay no one could be more shocked than she is herself, but make up her mind never to see him again she cannot! Mind, not a word of this to her!”

“Good God, I should not dare! But how came it about?”

“Oh, he held us up, rather more than a year ago! It was the most farcical adventure imaginable. She had gone with me to Tinsley, which is beyond Sheffield, you know. It was all to do with a heifer I had a mind to purchase, and since Joseph was laid up with the lumbago, Rose accompanied me in his stead. In this very gig! But owing to a number of circumstances we were detained for longer than I had thought for, so that I was obliged to drive home after dark. Not that I cared for that, or Rose either, for it was moonlight, and I don’t think it ever came into our heads that we might be held up. But we were, and by a masked figure, with a couple of horse-pistols in his hands, all in the style of high melodrama! He commanded me to stand and deliver. You may depend upon it that I obeyed the first of these commands, but what I was to deliver, beyond the few shillings which I had in my reticule, I knew no more than the man in the moon, which I ventured to tell him. That was where we descended from melodrama to farce! He seemed to be a good deal taken aback, and rode up quite close to peer at me. Well! Rose has a temper, and impertinence she will not brook! She said, ‘How dare you?’ not a bit afraid! Then she told him to put his guns away this instant, and, when he didn’t obey, demanded to know whether he had heard her. If it had not been so absurd I should have been in a quake! But there was not the least need: he did put his guns away, and began to beg her pardon, saying he had mistaken me for a man! She was not in the least mollified, however. She scolded him as though he had been a naughty child, and instead of seizing our reticules, or riding off, he stayed there, listening to her, and trying to make his peace with her. He did it, too, in the end! Rose can never remain in a rage for long, and he was so very apologetic that she was obliged to relent. Then he was so obliging as to make us a present of a password, if ever we should be held up again, which I thought excessively handsome of him! The Music’s paid! that’s what you must say if you should be held up. I own, I have never had occasion to put it to the test, but I believe it to be a powerful charm. After that, we drove home, and I never knew, for many weeks, that he followed us all the way, just to discover where Rose lived! It was a case of love at first sight. What do you think of that for a romance?”

“Admirable!” he replied, a good deal amused. “I have only one fault to find with it: I don’t see the happy ending. What is the name of this Knight of the Road ?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know that.”

“I fancy I do.”

She looked quickly at him, surprise in her face. “You do? How is this?”

“I think it may be Chirk. I also believe him to ride a mare called Mollie,” he said coolly.

“But how did you discover this?”

“Ah!”

“No, don’t be so provoking, pray!”

He laughed. “Well, when I arrived at the toll-gate, two nights ago, I stabled my horse in the hen-house. It was evident that a horse had been stabled there before, and at no very distant date. My predecessor owns no horse, but he does own a horse-blanket, and fodder. These, Ben informed me, are, in fact, the property of Mr. Chirk. Of course, Mr. Chirk may be a most estimable character, but as I have been given to understand that he very much dislikes strangers, and would not at all like it to be known that he was in the habit of visiting the toll-house, I take leave to doubt that.”

“Good heavens!” She drove on for a few moments, her eyes on the road ahead. “Do you mean that Brean may have been in league with footpads?”

“The suspicion had occurred to me,” he admitted. “To what extent, however, I have no idea. I should imagine that he does no more than afford shelter to this Chirk, for although I can readily perceive that a dishonest gatekeeper on a busy road might be of invaluable assistance to the fraternity, for the information he could give them, I can’t believe that such a little-frequented road as ours is a haunt of highwaymen.”

“No, certainly not: I never heard of anyone’s being held up on it.” Her eyes sparkled. “How very shocking, to be sure—and how very exciting! Of course, if this Mr. Chirk of yours is indeed poor Rose’s admirer, his presence in the district is readily explained. But if he is not, what can bring him here? Is it possible that Brean’s disappearance is in some way connected with him?”

“That thought had occurred to me too,” he acknowledged. “Also that some link may exist between him and the unknown stranger of whom Ben stands in such dread. If it does, however, Ben has no notion of it. He esteems Chirk most highly: in fact, he says he is good as ever twanged, which I take to be praise of no mean order! What I hope is that I may be privileged to meet Chirk. I think he has been quite a frequent visitor. But if Brean is working with him, he must know very well where he is, and he won’t come to the toll-house while I am there.”

“And the other? the mysterious man?”

“I’ve seen no sign of him.”

There was a pause. She was looking ahead, frowning a little. Suddenly she drew a sharp breath, and said abruptly: “Captain Staple!”

He waited, and then, as she appeared to be at a loss, said encouragingly: “Yes?”

“It is of no consequence! I forget what I was about to say!” she replied, in rather a brusque tone. The constraint, which had vanished while she recounted Rose’s romance, returned; and after an uncomfortable silence, she asked him, as one in duty bound to manufacture polite conversation, whether he admired the Derbyshire scene. His lips twitched; but he answered with perfect gravity that he had been much struck by the wild beauty of the surrounding countryside. He then said that having approached Crowford from the north-west his way had led him across some rough moorland, whence magnificent views had been obtained. This provided Miss Stornaway with a safe topic for discussion. She supposed he must have passed close to the Peak, and was sorry to think he should not have visited the cavern there. “There are a great many caves in the hills,” she informed him. “Many more, I daresay, than are generally known, but that one, in particular, is quite a curiosity. You should visit it before you leave Derbyshire. Only fancy!—in its mouth, which is enormous, there is actually a village built! The rock is limestone, you know, and if you penetrate into the cave you will find it worn into the most fantastic shapes. There is a stream running through it, and the guide takes one in a small boat along it. It is most romantic, I assure you—but shockingly cold!”