George Fraser - The Candlemass Road

I was so nettled to hear his talk of care, from one that cared not for that he should have cared for, that I said boldly she had much to learn indeed, and the border was like to prove a hard school, where officers turned a blind eye on wrongs done a poor man, with not so much counsel as should stand him in small stead, and little justice save for the rich and strong, and that my heart smote me for her in her inheritance. To which he said but “Chut!” and withered me with his eye. Not so the braggart Yarrow.

“Gin I had her acres I’d learn me fast enough,” quo’ he. “Devil the broken man or family rider should set hoof on my ground.”

“Fine talk in Askerton Hall,” says Hodgson, that could nowise abide the deputy. “Wait thou, till thou’st ta’en a trod over Hermitage water, and seen Elwood * lances on the crest at your back, or played cat-and-mouse wi’ Armstrongs in the dark on the Black Lyne—”

“Sitha, blubberguts,” cries young Yarrow, “I’ve ridden trods enow, and sweated mair blood than thou hast fat, thou tunbelly, thou, and seen your Elwoods and Armstrongs, aye, and seen their backs, too!”

“Aye, and broke eggs wi’ a stick,” says Hodgson, all a-grin. “Good health, Anton, when next Ewesdale rides your way. By, we’ll see grand things!”

They might have breathed themselves in such windy exchange, but now came the boy Wattie, flying: “The cotch! The cotch’s coming! Father Lewis, my leddy’s on the hill!” and more, in joyous frenzy, to quiet which I bade him see to the fire, it being near gone out again.

So we went out to meet her, Yarrow brushing his beard and setting his baldric so, and steel bonnet on his arm, and Hodgson in some trepidation, and myself, but Master Carleton last to rise, most leisurely patient, yet contrived to be ahead of us all, standing forth of the door. And here a great cotch, with postillions but no riders, and the kitchen folk come and the children squeaking, and all on tiptoe to see the great lady from London, with hollering of “A red bull! A red bull!” as though it had been a foray, and not my lady come into her own. Yet it seemed to me she came with no great state, but the one cotch and two postillions, and so through the gate, and Master Carleton ready to doff and be first at the cotch door, and the bailiff coughing at my elbow, hem-hem, and scratching with his feet, and Yarrow all smiles and standing high, and myself afire to see this prodigy so long expected, and yet in the moment, that should have been so glad, felt an oppression of the spirit, I knew not why, unless it was with my contemplating of the sorry condition of all that she came into there. Howbeit, I remembered my office so long neglected, and was a priest again for the time being, though little worthy of that name. And so I fell a-praying for her, and all about me the cry of “A Dacre! A Dacre! A red bull! A red bull!”

*One of the many spellings of “Elliot”

NOW, IF MASTER CARLETON hoped to puff his consequence to my lady and the world, by making show to hand her down and conduct her, he had little good of his ambition, for ere he had his bonnet off the cotch door was wide and she was by him and indoors in the blink of an eye, so that we had barely but the whisk of her cloak, and he with his hand out, into which her waiting woman a stout dame that followed after was like to give her basket, but that he made haste to withdraw in some snuff. So we must all in again, not a little abashed, and wondering at her suddenness, so that none put himself first, and ’twas myself, with Hodgson twitching at my sleeve, that led into the hall, and Master Carleton aloof behind, with, as they say here, his nose out of joint.

My lady stood before the fire, which was all but out and reeking, in which it matched her mood, as I soon saw. Yet was I mum at first, in awe of her appearance, which I had not seen such for many a year. She was of a middle height but lordly carriage, very straight and slender, and, as I thought at first, of a mould to beguile Solomon himself, so fair and pale of face like an angel in a picture, with great eyes of darkest blue, and for her hair, it was white shining gold like an infant’s, which in their elders is commonly artifice, but I think hers was not. A seeming beauty, though on looking narrowly at my more time, her nose was long and her chin something pointed, yet was she handsome enough for all that, and could smile right prettily, having excellent teeth, though her wonted mien was cold and very proud, as now, with thunder between her brows. For her attire, it would have sat upon a queen, being of rare richness, to wit, a long mulberry coat with gold buttons, open at the throat, for she wore a little ruff all sewn with pearls, and above a fur beaver, daintily cocked, and on her hands a muff of like fur sable, and beneath a fine green gown shotten with gold flames that was like to set our country ladies a-gape. So was I mum, staring at such a portent female, in awe not only of her person and apparel but of that high spirit that shone from her as would have overborne the boldest, young and slight though she was. We had a taste of her salt when, I having remembered myself and bade her welcome, she gave me but a glance and cut me short with:

“Which of you is my bailiff, Hodgkin?”

At that the bailiff, dismayed to hear himself singled so bodefully, answered haltingly that his name was Hodgson, at her service, at which she demanded coldly, had he care of her tenants, to which he assenting, she let drive such an angry blast as set his teeth a-chatter, nor minded the boy Wattie then coming in with logs, who dropped them clattering at her feet, and swore, and scrambled there before her, so much was she moved.

“And will you tell me, bailiff,” quo’ she, “what care you have, when I find myself petitioned on the road by a poor clown with a bloodied head, got of Scotch robbers, that came to you for help, whereon you set about him cruelly, and drove him forth with kicks? Well, sirrah – aye or no?”

Hodgson, seeing that George Bell had been beforehand with his grievance and kindled her to a fine rage, fell a-tremble, and mumbled that if she would hear him – and there his courage failed and he stood shuffling.

“What I would hear,” says she, dangerously soft and her finger tapping, “when you have done shuffling and got your tongue, is aye or no. ‘Aye, but’, you say? It is very well. We shall talk anon, Hodgson or Hodkin – nay, never stir, shuffle yet a while.” And to Wat, at her feet: “Your logs will not get up of themselves, fellow! Gather them, boy, to it!”

Then she threw off her back cloak and muff, and looked about, while her maid unbuttoned her long coat, but gave no heed to us who stood dumb, and seemed in no great delight of what she saw, playing with her gloves the while.

“This is all your charge, Susan,” says she. “Wine and water, and marchpane, and bid Master Lightfoot in to me. See that this lout mends the fire without putting the house alight, bid the grooms look to Angel and Lycidas, for these roads are fit to kill poor beasts, and Angel limps o’ the right forefoot.” And then of a sudden to Wat, that was dropping timbers broadcast, “Oh, try again, boy, and if you drop ’em on yon Hodgson’s toes it skills not, he shall skip of his own accord presently! ‘Aye, madam, but’, forsooth! Susan, bring mine own cup, and others for these gentlemen, for I doubt if there is a pot uncracked this side of York. Has this place been aired in a twelvemonth? If we are not to suffocate, put some sweet herbs on the fire, we had as well be in a stable!”

All this in a rush of words, when, seeing my amaze, she said more civilly: “Oh, sir, you wonder that I seem to take your welcome amiss, but I am in a rare fury, to see a poor man hurt, and a fat rogue blinking that gives no remedy, or even excuse, oh, it makes me mad! I thank you kindly, and these gentlemen, we shall know each other anon.” And at once falls railing at Wattie, for his handlessness. “Oh, fellow, kick them before you like a football, so shall you be done sooner! Susan, bid one help him, afore he does a mischief! Now, sirs, we shall have order presently, I dare say. You, sir (this to me), by your habit should be my grandsire’s papist priest. Give you good day, sir, for I will not call you father, but thank you for your courtesy. You may make these gentlemen known to me.”