The Smile of the Stranger (17 page)

“You see me as yet a very indifferent horsewoman!” Juliana said, laughing, to cover the excited thumping of her heart “However, I persevere, and my
will,
at least, is quite as strong as the pony
’
s; I am in hopes that after a few months I shall make him mind me well enough to canter
...
But, Captain Davenport, what brings you here? I had thought you fixed in London
.
”

“You bring me, dear Miss Juliana,” he replied, his ardent gaze fixed on hers. “I felt that in London, without your nearby presence, I was but half alive; so I posted down to visit my friends in Southampton, and have lost no time in riding over to see how you did. Tell me your news? Were you kindly received by your grandfather? Was he displeased at your return? Will he receive
me,
do you suppose?”

Juliana explained that her grandfather was from home, away in Norfolk. Captain Davenport
’
s face fell very much at this intelligence.

“In that case,” he said doubtfully, “as you have no chaperone, perhaps it will not be correct in me to call on you?”

“Well, I can see no harm in our riding up and dow
n
here,” said Juliana hopefully. “I daresay all the servants have their eyes glued to the windows, so they can see that we are behaving with perfect propriety.”

A smile touched his features; but faded again. "Dearest Miss Juliana! I love your sportive wit,” he said. “But, in truth, I deeply regret the General
’
s absence. I had hoped—I had planned to speak to him—” He paused, looked at Juliana, and said simply, “My most earnest wish was to ask your grandfather if I might be permitted to pay my addresses to you. It cannot have escaped you, Miss Juliana, that I entertain those sentiments towards you which—which are not sufficiently nourished by friendship alone! My feelings are of a deeper nature! I had wished to ask for your hand in marriage.”

Juliana blushed rosily. The fact that she was on horseback when she received this declaration, however, helped her retain command of her feelings, which might otherwise have become tumultuous. She drew a deep breath, shortened her reins, and said after a moment, with a fair assumption of calm,
“
Sir, you do me great honor. And—I cannot deny—that for myself I would be happy to receive your proposals in the most favorable spirit
!
But I am afraid that with my grandfather it might be otherwise. He has announced his intention to marry me off to a distant connection of his, a widower.”

“Damnation
!
” cried Captain Davenport. It was the first time she had seen him lose control of his temper; she liked him for it.
“
To marry you—
you,
peerless in your youth and beauty, to some ageing, gouty, snuffy dotard—how
can
he perform such a heartless act?”

"Oh, very easily, I fear,” said Juliana. “He is only too anxious to get me settled and off his hands.”

"But in that case, do you not think that, if he knew of it, he might be favorable to
my
suit? If his principal aim is to see you settled?” Captain Davenport asked earnestly. "If I were to write to him, for example?”

“
You
could
do that, I suppose,” Juliana said, a note of hope in her voice.

“
I will do so directly
!
”

“
But I am bound to tell you, Captain Davenport, that I am not at all certain of his approval. He is not disposed to regard me with any favor at the moment, and I think the very fact that you—that you are so obliging as to wish to offer for me—might be enough to put him against the match.”

He looked dismayed, but said, "No matter. Perhaps he is not so hard-hearted! I will write forthwith—if you will be so kind as to give me his direction in Norfolk?”

Juliana had been forwarding her grandfather
’
s letters for some days; she said, “It is the Manor House, Staitheley, Beccles.”

"I go to write on the instant,” said Captain Davenport, and turned his horse about. Then he paused, took Juliana
’
s hand, kissed it, and inquired with the most respectful devotion, “Until I hear from him—may I continue to visit you?
”

Flesh and blood would find it hard indeed to be so near and remain away!”

“I do not see any objection to your coming,” she said after thinking it over. “We can ride here, in the park; there is surely no harm in that?”

“Those words make me the happiest man in Hampshire,” he said, and put spurs to his horse.

Juliana rode slowly toward the stables.

During the next three days, Captain Davenport
’
s handsome figure and his dapple-gray horse became a familiar sight in the park at Flintwood. For hours together he and Juliana rode slowly to and fro under the spreading oaks, or across the sheep-cropped turf, to and fro, to and fro, talking about places in Italy that they both knew, about books they had read, poems and plays and writers they admired. Juliana told him about her father s writing, and about the money she had received from John Murray; she discovered that “Charles Elphinstone” was a writer Captain Davenport had long admired, and, while not depreciating the eight hundred pounds, he trusted that she might receive considerably more for the next work, which he was sure deserved it. They discussed the revolution in France, and its effects on the people there. They talked about London society, and about each other: an inexhaustible topic.

On the third day Mrs. Hurdle said rather doubtfully to Juliana at breakfast time, “Lord knows, miss, I don
’
t wish to pry, nor to deprive you of any harmless diversion, for you seem to me as decent and sensible a young lady as ever stepped, but does Master know of this young gent as keeps coming a-calling? Clegg and me was wondering if it is right for him to be coming here day after day in such a regular manner, with Master away.”

“I think we are doing no harm,” Juliana told her, “for the gentleman came to my aunt
’
s house in London—and also he has written to my grandfather asking if he may pay his addresses to me.” She felt, a little guiltily, that she was prevaricating somewhat here, but the housekeeper
’
s brow cleared at once.

“Sure if the young man
’
s known to Lady
Lambourn
and has writ to your grandpa, that
’
s quite another matter, miss! I only thought it best to ask, seeing how mighty great you and the gentleman seemed to be becoming with one another. You
’
ll pardon the liberty, miss, I
’
m sure.”

“Indeed I will. You did very right, Mrs. Hurdle,” said Juliana, feeling even more hypocritical.

However, later that morning Captain Davenport arrived with a very long face. Juliana could see at once from his bearing that something was greatly amiss.

“Oh, what is it?” she cried, when their horses met, halfway up the drive.

“It is all over!” he groaned. “My hopes are at an end!”

“Why, what has happened—has he answered your letter?”

“He has written—in
such
language—utterly withholding his consent to my desires—to my presumptions, as he calls them; he has pronounced my doom in no uncertain terms; oh, how can I endure it?” he cried out in anguish, and he clasped his head in his hands, but, his steed becoming restive, he was obliged to lay hold of the reins again.

“My grandfather gave you no hope at all?” said Juliana, aghast.

“None—none! He is unalterably set on your marrying this elderly acquaintance of his; he has no pity at all for our youth and our tender affections.”

“It is strange—it is very singular that he has not written to me also,” said Juliana.

“He has done so, my dearest love; doubtless you will receive the epistle tomorrow; in my letter he said that he had written you in the most peremptory terms, bidding you abandon all thought of marrying me and cease having any communication with me. You are to dismiss me from your thoughts.”

“Heaven help me, how am I to do that?
”
cried Juliana. “I must be obedient to my grandfather—I owe him my physical duty—but my thoughts, my affections, are my own, and they will forever be yours, my dearest Francis! Even wed to another, I shall never, never forget you.”

And she fixed her eyes upon his grave and handsome features, as if determined to learn them by heart. A miserable silence ensued, of no short duration.

“There is but one thing,” said he at last, in a hesitant manner, “that we might do—but no, I dare not suggest it.”

“What is that?” she asked eagerly.

“You may not like it, my dearest—indeed, I am sure you will not—but I see no way out of this coil otherwise.
You
will be married off to this aged stranger, and
I
, for the rest of my days, must eat out my heart with longing for my lost love.”

“What are you suggesting?” said Juliana with a beating heart.

“Why, that we should travel to Scotland and be married there—that we should elope.”

“Elope!”

“I do not, in the general way, approve of such headstrong, indecorous, precipitate behavior,” said he gravely, “but in the present circumstances, what other course have we? Your grandfather is not to be persuaded! Yet, after all, I am engaged in a respectable calling—I come of an old and well
-
established family; I am able to support you; there can be no real objections to our marriage; and, once it is an accomplished fact, I hope that the old gentleman may be brought to accept it readily enough. It is only that he has taken this obstinate notion into his head—as old men will!—that he wishes you to marry this friend of his, I daresay a most unsuitable
parti;
once he is obliged to set this scheme aside, there is no reason in the world why he should not countenance our connection.”

“No, you are in the right,” said Juliana after some reflec
tion. “Little though I like it, I fear that an elop
e
ment is the only solution for us.”

Captain Davenport
’
s eyes sparkled. He said, “You agree? You really mean that? Too good—too excellent creature! I am unworthy of you, indeed! This readiness to take a step which must affront you—which must be abhorrent to your sense of propriety—makes me admire you—nay, worship you—all the more!”

And he raised her hand to his lips.

“But how should we set about it?” Juliana inquired, doubts and scruples now beginning to rear themselves in her mind. “Is it, for example, really necessary to travel all the way to Scotland?”

“I fear it is—for you are a minor, my love, are you not?
—
and no marriage performed in this country without your guardians consent will be legal. I know, my sweetest angel,” he said, “you are distressed as to the impropriety of our undertaking such a long journey together before our marriage
—
and indeed, it is not at all what I like myself. Every feeling must be offended at the thought.”

“I own, it
is
that aspect of the scheme that troubles me,” Juliana said. “My grandfather would be
so
afflicted if I committed such an impropriety, and I cannot bear the thought of his distress. Already he deems me a hoyden, and this would confirm his worst misgivings about me—might, indeed, incur his lasting displeasure. Which would grieve me, I must confess! If only there were some lady, some person of repute and discretion, to whom we might confide our problem; in whose company I could make the journey north, and
then meet you at Gretna.”

She thought wistfully of Miss Ardingly. But Captain Davenport exclaimed, “Why, what a muttonhead I am! My sister! She would answer capitally.”

“Your sister? I did not know that you had a sister.”

“Oh, she is the very pink of married sobriety—I hardly ever see her! She lives with her husband at Horsham. I will
take you there, you may remain with her as long as it takes her to ready herself for the journey north, and then we may all three travel to Scotland without the least indelicacy
.”

“Yes, that would certainly answer,” said Juliana, her hopes beginning to rise. But then she added in a graver tone, “Only, do you think your sister would be willing to set out for Scotland at such short notice?
”

“To be sure she will! She delights in a frolic.”

“What about her husband—her children? She can hardly leave them so suddenly.”

“Children she has none, and as for her husband, he is a sad stick, and spends all his time cultivating his fields—he will hardly notice her absence.”

This plan certainly appeared to resolve all their difficulties, and, once agreed on, it only remained to fix on the time and decide the details.

“I can hardly drive up to the door for you in a chaise and pair,” said the Captain. “How would it be if you were to walk a short way into the forest, tomorrow morning, and meet me at the stone cross which lies a mile to the north of here, on the Winchester road?”

Juliana knew the spot, and agreed that this would be an excellent scheme.

For I am out-of-doors a great part of the day in this weather, walking and riding and sitting in the garden, so that the servants may hardly notice my absence until suppertime.”

“By which hour you may be safe under my sister
’
s roof, if we leave early,” Captain Davenport said in a triumphant tone.

“What is your sister
’
s name?”

“Bracegirdle—Amelia Bracegirdle. But now I had best leave you, my own love, and make arrangements to hire a chaise
...
One last thing—do you think it might be possible, my dearest, for you to assume some slight disguise—say, the garb of a milkmaid or servant girl? Then, if we should be observed along the way—if any inquiry is set on foot regarding your departure—”

“Nobody will connect the milkmaid in the mobcap with the missing young lady from Flintwood,” said Juliana, laughing. “That will be the easiest matter in the world, for I have been helping Mrs. Hurdle make new mobcaps and aprons for the maids, and I may carry a pair into the garden without the least difficulty, as if I intended to do my sewing here.”

“Capital! Till tomorrow then—at ten sharp—by the stone cross.”

“One thing—” said Juliana diffidently. “I do not quite see how I can bring my baggage with me; a cap and apron may be tucked into my pocket, but if I were to walk into the forest carrying a cloak bag, the servants would think it decidedly strange.”

“Oh, do not trouble your pretty head about that!” cried Captain Davenport in a buoyant manner. “My sister can lend you what you need for a night—you and she are much of a size—and after that, it will be my delight to rig you out in the first stare of the mode! Adieu, my dear, dear girl—until tomorrow!”

Kissing his hand to her, he galloped away at full speed.

Left to herself, Juliana could not but feel some doubts and qualms—some pangs of conscience and anxiety. If only it might have been possible to marry with her grandfather
’
s consent and approval! If only he could have been brought to meet Captain Davenport and see how unexceptionable he was. She was distressed at the thought of her grandfather
’
s disgust. And she detested having to deceive Mrs. Hurdle and the other servants at Flintwood, who had all been most uniformly kind to her.

She spent the evening rather unhappily, composing two notes, one for Mrs. Hurdle, saying merely that she had been called away by a sudden emergency, and one, written and rewritten many times, for her grandfather. This she left in Clegg
’
s office for him to send with the rest of the estate papers.

“My dear Grandfather: It fills me with the deepest Sorrow to be obliged to pen these lines. Only the knowledge that you have already written to Captain Davenport, refusing his suit in such severe and unqualified terms, has brought me to a Step which I must regret even more keenly than you, for besides deploring its Impropriety, I am aware of what Pain it will give you. Tomorrow I set out for Scotland to marry Captain Davenport. Truly, dear Grandfather, he is the most Excellent young man, and if only you could have brought yourself to meet him, I am persuaded that you would have thought so too! I need not refine upon the Respectability of his Connections or station in Life, since he assures me that he gave you all this information in his letter to you. I do most Sincerely believe that, once you have abandoned your scheme for marrying me to your friend, you will find Captain Davenport a perfectly unexceptionable match in every way, and I am in Hopes that you will be prepared to extend your Forgiveness and Blessing to your distressed but ever-hopeful Grandchild.”

Grandfather will think me just as headstrong and foolish as my father, she reflected sadly, as she laid this epistle upon Clegg
’
s desk. But at least I have not made such a disastrous choice as poor dear Papa! And when my grandfather discovers what a noble and eligible character Captain Davenport has, he must surely relent.

Juliana rose early next morning, but found it hard to partake of any breakfast; a cup of chocolate was all that she could swallow.

“You
’
ve no appetite, miss,” said Abigail. “You was up too late a-poring over them books in the library. I saw your candle shine! You
’
d best take a nice walk in the forest—look for white violets and primmyroses.”