“But I was thinking of what you might meet on the road. George. I do declare the roads get worse and worse.”
“Bah! I would like to see the man who would dare ask me for my purse! He would not get away with it and his life.”
She eyed him with a wistful softness.
“Doubtless you would be reckless, George.” she said softly, ‘but that does not ease my mind.”
“By the Lord Harry!” cried the squire.
“Are you going to offer me a bed?”
He could scarcely stop the smile curving his lips. It was such a good joke that; but she did not appear to hear it.
There are beds and to spare in this house,” she said.
“I will tell Emm to prepare a room. Emm!” she called.
“Emm!”
“My good Harriet,” laughed the squire, ‘you’re to put all such thoughts out of your head. A ride in the dark has no terrors for me, I can tell you. I enjoy it!”
“I know, George. I know.”
He felt himself aglow with her admiration. He was glad he had come; he was glad he had stayed. Why let Kitty humiliate him? Why have let Bess? There were women in the world who thought very highly of him.
Emm appeared in answer to the call. Candlelight softened her, hid the grime of her. Her eyes were large and soft like a fawn’s eyes.
Harriet hesitated. The squire roared out: “Get a lanthorn, girl, and light me to the stables!”
Emm said: “Indeed I will, sir!” and went out.
The squire rocked backwards and forwards on his heels, smiling at Harriet, well pleased with himself.
“Good night, Harriet, m’dear.”
“Good night, George. It has been most pleasant.”
“We will repeat the pleasure, Harry. No, no! You shall not venture out into the night air. I’ll not allow it. There is deadliness in the night air, Harry.”
Ah. he thought, laughing, and magic tool Starlight could throw a cloak of beauty even about such as workhouse Emm.
Emm appeared in the hall, holding a lanthorn in her hands.
“Come you on, girl,” he said.
“The hour is growing late.” He did not look at her, but he was aware of every movement of her body as she passed him.
“Goodbye, Harriet.”
Harriet stood in the doorway. The lanthorn, like a will-o’-the-wisp, flickering across the grass on its way to the stables.
“I shall not move till you have shut yourself in from this treacherous night air, Harriet.”
“George, you are too ridiculous!”
“Is it ridiculous then to care for the health of one’s friends?”
She closed the door. She thought how charming he was, under the right influence. What a certain woman could have done for him!
The lanthorn flickered against the darkness of the stables. It was a lovely night. There was no moon, but a wonderful array of stars. They seemed bigger than usual, like jewels laid out for show on a piece of black velvet. He began to hurry across the grass.
“Emm,” he said softly.
“Emm! Wait for me!”
She was beside him, and as he laid a hand on her shoulder, she stepped back a pace. Sly, silly girl, he thought. But he was in no hurry; he preferred a little dalliance.
He said: “Lead the way, girl. Lead the way!”
And she went before him, holding the lanthorn on a level with her youthful head. His eyes were fixed upon her appraisingly; all young creatures were beautiful by starlight.
“You are a nice girl, Emmie,” he said.
“Often have I noticed that.”
She did not speak, and he roared out: “Did you hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Thank you, sir!”
“You like me, Emmie, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, sir.”
She had a grace, this girl; the fawn-like quality was very much in evidence. She seemed to him to be poised for a fleet and startled withdrawal.
Damn it! he thought, his veins swelling. She was willing enough. Brown as a berry, and ripe as plums in September. He would have fun with her, right under Harriet’s prim nose.
“Emm!” he said.
“Put that plaguey lanthorn down, and come here.”
She came and stood cautiously before him. He put out his hands and he felt the quiver run through her.
“Now, Emmie, girl, nothing to be afraid of, nothing to be afraid of, eh?”
He talked soothingly as he talked to his horses.
“Come on, Emmie girl; come on, now!”
Then he seized her and kissed her, and felt his blood run hot through him. She was not too clean, and she smelt of the dinner she had cooked the dinner he had eaten with Harriet.
He was exultant, laughing at Bess and Kitty really, getting the better of them in some queer, subtle way.
But Emm was panting; she wrenched herself from his grasp suddenly; she was as agile as a young monkey.
Damn her! he thought. Wanted chasing, did she? These workhouse girls were giving themselves airs indeed! By God, did she forget he was the squire, about to confer an honour upon her! Had she been listening to that other one, that Janet who was saving up her virtue for some blundering farm labourer? No, no! She wanted a chase some of them did; liked to lead a man a dance. But that was the ladies. The workhouse girls were giving themselves the airs of ladies these days! She would lead him a dance, make him chase her over the garden, taking good care not to escape from him, and be caught conveniently when they had both had enough of the chase; and laughing and panting, and perhaps biting and scratching, she would give way. Well, well, he was in a good humour and the night was before him. He set out after her across the lawn. She was fleet though. She was in the house. She had shut the door on him. And what could he do, confound the girl, but tap timidly for fear of Harriet’s hearing, and then when she said from the other side of the door, “Please go away!” he had to plead: “Emm! Emmie, girl. What is wrong with you? Come out, I say! Come out, I tell you!” But she did not come. And how could the squire stand pleading at the back door with a girl from the workhouse!
Wild fury possessed him. It was all he could do to restrain himself from breaking down the door. That would be sheer folly, of course. He had to do better than that. By God, did the girl not know that he could have her brought before him, could have her whipped in public, could have her sent off to a convict ship … and, yes, could no doubt have her hanged if he cared to! He was the squire, was he not? A magistrate! A Justice! He felt the veins in his head would burst: his eyes burned with his anger. Doubtless the slut had committed many a crime which only had to be discovered. By God, he would show her! But there was nothing he could do this night. He forced himself to walk slowly back to the stables, trying to quell the angry beating of his heart. He did not want to be bled again… he must not work himself into such a fury over a mere workhouse slut. But it was not the workhouse slut well he knew that it was Bess again, jeering at him … Bess and Kitty, confound them! a, It was good to feel the horse between his knees, responding to every pressure a noble creature who knew his master. He had no wish to go home; he rode for miles, galloping and cantering across the fields, through the country lanes; and when he had had enough it was past midnight, and when he reached home it was nearly one o’clock.
He himself rubbed down his horse, for though he was a stern master he was a good one. Then he went into the house and poured himself a glass of whisky.
“I will get the taste of Harriet’s plaguey concoctions out of my mouth!” he said, and he laughed afresh at Harriet’s feeling for him, and drank more whisky, for there was nothing like whisky for keeping a man’s spirit up and he was going to Kitty. He had stood off long enough, and, damn it, he had to get the taste of that bit of foolery with the workhouse chit out of his mouth as surely as he had to get rid of the taste of Harriet’s wine.
He went upstairs. The door of her room was not locked as he had half expected it to be, but if it had been he would have had it down; he was in that mood.
“Kitty!” he called.
“Kitty!”
There was no answer.