Джорджетт Хейер - The Toll-Gate

Miss Stornaway’s eyes widened. She exclaimed involuntarily: “Good heavens! you can’t be Brean’s son!”

“No, no, I fancy he’s at sea. The poor fellow was pressed, you know.”

“But what are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Keeping the gate,” he replied promptly.

She was bewildered, but amused too. “Nonsense! How could you be a gatekeeper?”

“If you mean that I’m a bad one you must remember that I’m a novice. I shall learn.”

“Nothing of the sort! I mean—Oh, I believe you’re hoaxing me!”

“Indeed I’m not!”

“Where is Brean?” she demanded.

“Well, there you have me,” he confessed. “Like Ben—are you acquainted with Ben?—I dunno! That’s why I’m here.”

She wrinkled her brow. “Do you mean that Brean has gone away? But why should you take his place? Are you doing it for a wager?”

“No, but now that you come to suggest it I see that that might not be at all a bad notion,” he said..

“I wish you will be serious!” she begged, trying to frown and succeeding only in laughing.

“I am very serious. On the whole, I believe I shall do better to announce myself to be a cousin of Brean’s.”

“No one would credit such a tale, I assure you!”

“Don’t you think so? I can talk cant with the best, you know.”

She made a despairing gesture. “I don’t understand a word of this!”

The groom, who had been staring very hard at John, said: “Seems to me there’s something smoky going on here. If you ain’t playing a May-game, sir; nor cutting a sham—”

“I’m not, but I agree with you that there’s something smoky going on,” John interrupted. “The gatekeeper went off two nights ago, and hasn’t been seen since.”

“Well, that’s very bad,” acknowledged Miss Stornaway. “But I do not see why you should take his place!”

“But you must see that Ben is a great deal too young to remain here alone!” John pointed out.

“You are the oddest creature! How do you come here? Why—Oh, I wish you will explain it to me!”

“I will,” he promised. “It is quite a long story, however. Won’t you step down from your gig? I shan’t invite you to come into the toll-house, for although I have induced Ben to sweep out the kitchen it is not at all tidy, but we could sit on the bench.”

Her eyes danced; it seemed as if she were half inclined to fall in with this suggestion, but at that moment the groom said something to her in a low voice, directing her attention to the road ahead.

Coming towards the gate, on a showy-looking hack, was a thickset man, rather too fashionably attired for his surroundings. He wore white hunting-tops, a florid waistcoat with several fobs and seals depending from it, a blue coat with long tails and very large buttons, and a beaver hat with a exaggeratedly curled brim.

The laughter went out of Miss Stornaway’s eyes; she said rather hurriedly: “Some other time, perhaps. Please to open the gate now!”

John went to it immediately. It had a fifteen foot clearance, and the man on the gray hack reined in short of its sweep towards him. He looked rather narrowly at John for a moment, but rode forward as soon as the gate stood wide enough, and reined in alongside the gig. The beaver was doffed with a flourish, revealing exquisitely pomaded and curled black locks.

“Ah, Miss Nell, you stole a march on us, did you not?” challenged the gentleman jovially. “But I have found you out, you see, and come to meet you!”

“I have been to Church, sir, if that is what you mean,” Miss Stornaway replied coldly.

“Sweet piety! You will allow me to escort you home!”

“I cannot prevent you from doing so, sir, but I am sorry you should have put yourself to the trouble of coming to meet me. It was unnecessary,” said Miss Stornaway, whipping up her horse.

John shut the gate, and went back into the toll-house. A strong aroma of onions assailed him, from which he inferred that Ben considered it was time to start cooking dinner. He went into the kitchen, and said abruptly: “Ben, did you tell me that there is a woman who comes here to clean the place?”

“Ay, Mrs. Skeffling. She comes Wednesdays. She washes the duds too,” replied Ben. “We has a roast, Wednesdays, and a pudden, and all. Coo, she’s a prime cook, she is!”

“We must have her every day,” John said decidedly.

“Every day?” gasped Ben, nearly upsetting the pan he was holding over the fire. “Whatever for, gov’nor?”

“To keep the house clean, and cook the dinner, of course. Where does she live?”

“Down the road. But she has to have a sow’s baby every time!”

“In that case, I shall have to go to market and buy a litter of pigs,” said John. He perceived that Ben was looking quite amazed, and laughed. “Never mind! How much is a sow’s baby?”

“A half-horde—sixpence! Properly turned-up we’d be!”

“Don’t bother your head about that!” recommended John.

Ben eyed him with considerable respect. “You got a lot of mint-sauce, gov’nor?”

“I’m tolerably well-blunted,” responded John gravely. “Now, listen, Ben! I’m going to remain here—”

“You are?” cried Ben joyfully.

“Until your dad comes back, or, at any rate—”

“Coo, I hope he don’t never come back!”

“Quiet, you unnatural brat! If he doesn’t come back—lord, I’m dashed if I know what I’m to do with you, but I won’t throw you on the Parish, at all events! The thing is, if I’m to stay here I must make some purchases. How far off is the nearest town, and what is it?”

After reflection, Ben said that he thought Tideswell was only a matter of five miles or so. He added that his dad had bought the pig there, and a new coat for the winter. This sounded promising.

“I’ll ride there tomorrow,” John said. “You won’t be scared of minding the gate while I’m away, will you?”

“I ain’t scared—leastways, not in the day time I ain’t,” said Ben. “But I got to muck out Mr. Sopworthy’s henhouse, mind! He’ll tip me a meg, and likely want me to lend a hand at summat else. I dunno when I’ll be back.”

“Well, you must tell him that you’re needed here. What kind of a man is this Mr. Sopworthy?”

“He’s a leery cove, he is, me dad says. He ain’t one as’ll squeak beef on you, but it’s pound dealing with him, else he goes up in the boughs—proper, he does!”

“If that means that he’s an honest man, I fancy I had best make his acquaintance. I gather you don’t think he’d be likely to inform against your dad, so we shall tell him that your dad’s been called away for a few days, and left me to take his place. I’m a cousin of yours,” said the Captain.

“He won’t never swallow a rapper like that!” objected Ben. “He ain’t no chub! He’d know you was a flash cull, sure as check!”

“Not he!” grinned John.

“Soon as you opens your mummer, he will!” insisted Ben. “’Cos you talks flash, and you got a lot of cramp-words, like all the gentry-coves.”

“I’ll take care not to use ’em,” promised John.

“Yes, and what about that mish you got on, and them stampers?” demanded Ben, quite unconvinced.

“If you mean my shirt, I am going to buy some others, in Tideswell, and a stout pair of brogues as well. Don’t shake your head at me! I’ve been discharged from the Army, understand? Trooper, 3rd Dragoon Guards—and batman (that means a servant) to an officer. That’s how I come to talk a trifle flash. You remember that, and we shall come off all right!”

Ben looked dubious, but all he said was: “What’ll I call you, gov’nor?”

“Jack. What I must have is decent stabling for Beau. He can’t remain cooped up in a hen-house, and it seems to me that the Blue Boar’s the best place for him.”