The Smile of the Stranger (28 page)

A large excited pig came dashing into the midst of the archers, overthrowing the target and causing wild havoc. Little Prue shrieked, and let go of the monkey s leash; Mistigris, snatching this unlooked-for opportunity, scampered up the nearest tree, a huge chestnut with a trunk so creased and seamed that the monkey could run up it like a flight of stairs. Meanwhile the pig fled away with all the archers and their audience in pursuit.

One of Juliana
’
s attendant footmen rather reluctantly offered to go up after Mistigris, but Juliana, thanking, shook her head.

“He does not know you, and he is very timid; besides, all the noise has scared him. He minds me fairly well and I think it will be best if I go after him; the tree looks easy enough to climb. Prue, love, hold my parasol.”

Accordingly Juliana began carefully drawing herself up the serrated surface of the tree; the light slippers she wore proved admirable for the purpose, as she could dig her toes into the deep cracks in the bark.

Mistigris, huddled in the first fork, hailed her approach with chattering enthusiasm, and obviously expected her to pass the afternoon with him in the tree.

“Yes, it is all very well for you, you wretch,” said Juliana, making a successful grab for the dangling leash, “but what Grandfather would say if he could see me—oh!”

This cry of astonishment was caused by the sight of a long arrow which had struck the tree trunk just beside her arm with a loud, resonant thud, burying its steel point deep in the wood; it stuck there quivering, and Juliana, looking below, called urgently, “Take care! Oh, pray take care!”

Her voice was drowned by Prue
’
s joyful shriek of
“
Davvy
!
It
’
s Davvy
!
” Then the child
’
s tone changed to one of horror and she screamed, “Da
vv
y, what be you
doing?
You must not shoot at Miss Jeannie!” Juliana saw a man pulling back a bow, prepared to shoot again. She scrambled down the tree with desperate haste, clasping Mistigris against her; another arrow whistled over her head, missing her by inches.

As she dropped to the ground, she heard angry shouts, and turned to see two men locked together in a furious conflict; next moment, one of them, pulling free from the other one
’
s clutch, succeeded in felling his opponent with a savage blow from the shoulder. Muttering vindictively, the second man struggled to his feet. It was Captain Davenport
—
Juliana still could not think of him as Jenkins. Damer and Goble sprang forward to seize him, but the man who had knocked him down said, “Stand back! This is my affair.”

Juliana stifled a gasp. For in the other man she recognized Herr Welcker: a Herr Welcker very different from when she had seen him last, ragged and grimy. Now, though still much sunburned, he was precise to a pin, clad in elegant morning dress—except that his neckcloth had come untied, his hair was disarranged, he was bleeding from a cut on his cheekbone, and he looked very angry indeed.

Stepping forward, he seized Davenport by the arm.

“Why were you shooting at Miss Paget?”

“She
’
s a cursed jilt,” muttered Davenport, who looked, Juliana thought, far more frightening than when she had seen him last. His eyes were bloodshot and wild, he had a perceptible streak of white on his dark disheveled locks, and there was a great blackened bu
rn
on the back of his jacket. He said, “I
’
ll lay my hands on her sooner or later—see if I don
’
t! And if I can
’
t have her—nobody shall!”—endeavoring to break away from Herr Welcker
’
s hold. It seemed plain that the experiences of the last few days had deranged his mind. Little Prue cried out, “Da
vv
y!” fearfully, but he growled, “Shut your mouth!” Then, evidently realizing that he was outnumbered, he twisted suddenly, thrusting Herr Welcker to one side, and darted off, bounding over the grass with astonishing speed. Welcker was up in a moment and after him—so were the footmen. Juliana and little Prue also ran in pursuit, the former filled with dreadful apprehension. Davenport had seemed so strange! What might he not do if he entered the house?

He had directed his course toward the pleasure gardens, from where a door led into the tennis court. Possibly he had intended to make his escape by the underground passage; he had reached the court and was heading for the door when Herr Welcker overtook him and seized him again.

The two footmen arrived shortly after.

“Best turn him over to Lordy,” one of them was saying as Juliana reached them—little Prue, wailing, had been left far behind.

“I
’
ll fight you, I
’
ll fight you all!” screamed Davenport. “I
’
m not afraid of you! I
’
ll fight you for her!” Then he perceived a case of dueling pistols which had been left in the court; evidently someone had been using the room as a shooting gallery, for a target hung against the end wall.

“Will you fight?” said he again to Welcker. “Will you fight me? Or are you a miserable sniveling coward?”

Herr Welcker glanced around, and saw Juliana.
“I’ll
fight you,” he said to Davenport. He was very pale.
“I’ll
fight you if you will then guarantee never to pursue that lady again.”

“If I lose, you mean
!
” shouted Davenport, with a loud, crazy laugh. “But I shall not lose. You!” he said to one of the footmen. “Load the pistols and see fair play
!
”

“Oh, pray do not—
!
” Juliana cried out, but nobody was paying any attention to her, and she crept into the netted gallery while the two men took off their jackets and the pistols were loaded. Then the duelists retired to the ends of the gallery, and Damer, the elder footman (looking very nervous), stood where the net met the wall, holding a white cloth (Herr Welcker
’
s neckerchief).

“When
—
as I drops this
—
yurr wipe, an
’
says
‘
Fire
’
then I wants ye to fire,” he said. “But
‘
tis all wrong, an I
‘
opes Lordy don
’
t give me a blasting an
’
my marching orders for it. Are ye ready? Fire
!
”

Both pistols cracked, and Davenport, who had been standing close against the back wall, slowly subsided, leaning against it, until he was sitting on the ground. Juliana, who had been turning her eyes fearfully from one man to the other, observed a spot of red appear on Herr Welcker
’
s white-sleeved arm. It rapidly increased to a scarlet patch.

At this juncture, the door leading to the house burst open, and Lord Egremont appeared. He exclaimed, “For heaven
’
s sake, what is going on here? Are you all run
mad?
Damer
—
Goble—what is the meaning of this?” Then his gaze took in the two wounded men, Davenport rolled over in a faint, Herr Welcker with a rather rueful smile upon his countenance.

“I must apologize, my lord,” he said. “Pray do not be blaming your servants! It was entirely my fault—it seemed the simplest solution to the business. No, that is not quite true,” he added reflectively. “I am afraid that I lost my temper. That fellow there was the man who had abducted Miss Paget.”

Damer, who had been examining the injured Davenport, now reported, “
‘
E bain
’
t
‘
urt bad. Ball be lodged in
‘
is shoulder, likely.”

“Carry him off to one of the servants
’
rooms and keep him under close observation,” directed Lord Egremont. “I will deal with him later. And I daresay Madame
’
Lise will doctor his wound. As for you, Herr Welcker—I am greatly shocked that such a thing should happen in my house while the Prince is visiting it—but I realize that you were provoked. We will say no more about it. Is your injury of a serious nature?”

“Merely a flesh wound, my lord,” replied Herr Welcker, binding his handkerchief round it. He then looked up and saw Juliana, who, white with anxiety, had run out of the gallery and now stood close by. A sudden smile irradiated his face.

“My dear Miss Juliana! I must apologize to you, too, for this disgraceful fracas! But I trust that wretched man will annoy you no more from now on.”

Lord Egremont, hearing Juliana
’
s name, turned and said, “Ah, my dear child, I was just searching for you when my attention was attracted by the sound of pistol shots. His Highness wishes you to be presented to him. Will you come with me, if you please?”

“Oh, no!” cried Juliana, horrified. “Just
now
—when I am in
such
a pickle—with my dress all green and torn from climbing trees—and Madame
’
s monkey—”

“I will accompany you,” offered Herr Welcker obligingly. He put on his jacket and retied his neckcloth in two expert movements. “But perhaps it
would
be best to get rid of the monkey—”

Luckily at this moment little Prue arrived, panting and indignant, and was instructed by Lord Egremont to “take the monkey and go to Mam
’
selle Lord.” Being much in awe of him, she did so without argument.

Juliana, setting her dress to rights as best she could while walking along, was escorted down a corridor and across a court to the great carved and paneled Grinling Gibbons Hall, where the Prince of Wales was seated in state, conversing with the various guests invited to meet him by Lord Egremont.

Juliana studied the Prince with interest as she approached. He was like his brother, but better-looking, she decided. He certainly was remarkably fat—she judged that the estimate of seventeen stone could not be far off the mark—his complexion was rather flushed, his curly hair somewhat thin, but his blue-gray eyes were large and bright, and his smile as he stood up to greet her was so full of charm that Juliana saw at once what people meant when they spoke of the Prince
’
s irresistible fascination. She made him a profound curtsy, to which he responded with an astonishingly graceful bow.

“My dear Miss Paget! I am so delighted to meet you at last. I have been hearing about you forever—from my brother Clarence, who spoke most highly of your charm—but chiefly from my friend Augustus, yonder—and he nodded toward Herr Welcker, who bowed.

“And so
you
are the dauntless young lady who rescued Augustus from a French mob and sailed with him over the Isle of Wight,” the Prince continued, surveying Juliana with a look in which friendliness, admiration, and a gleam of fun were mixed with something else very unnerving; it makes me feel as if he can see right through my blue dress to my shift, she thought. “And not only are you a beauty and a heroine, but I hear you have just inherited half a million from old Brandywine Paget as well. That seems almost too much. Unfair to other mortals!”

“No, Your Highness, excuse me,” interposed Lord Egremont, “it was not from General Brandywine Paget that Miss Paget received her legacy; he is still alive, I am glad to say, and is the young lady
’
s grandfather; it was from his brother, Seringapatam Paget, her great-uncle, that she inherited.”

The Prince nodded irritably, as if he hated being corrected.

He went on, “And your father, I understand, was that excellent historian whose books on Villiers and Wentworth I have read with so much enjoyment. And I hear with delight that one on my great-great-grandfather, Charles the First, is in course of publication. I shall look forward to that with the keenest pleasure. Alas, he was a sad loss, your father; we could have done with many more works from his pen.”

Good heavens, thought Juliana, while she was making civil replies to these remarks,
could
King Charles the First really have been the great-great-grandfather of this man? How very extraordinary!

“I hear from my friend Augustus that Charles the First is quite your ideal of a man and a prince,” His Highness continued, in a somewhat languishing manner. “But I hope that having
his
image in your mind will not render you too hardhearted toward
other
princes, ma
’
am?” He took her hand in his rather limp and moist one, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Good God! thought Juliana, very much disconcerted; he is flirting with me; what must I do now? Anxiously looking past the Prince of Wales, she caught Herr Welckers eye fixed on her with a look of such amused sympathy that she instantly felt more at ease.

“Meeting Your Highness must necessarily demote your great-great-grandfather to second place in my esteem, sir,” she said, smiling up at the large florid good-natured face above hers. He beamed back, delighted, and Juliana, anxious to quit a vein which she knew she could not continue, said, “Sir, pray enlighten my ignorance on a point that puzzles me?”

“Anything, my dear Miss Paget!”

“You have alluded to your friend Augustus. You refer to Count van Welcker?”

“
Yes,
my dear.”

“But I thought his name was Frederick?”

“His full name is Frederick Augustus Arpel, Count van
Welcker, my child”—Juliana gave a gasp—“and I am infinitely obliged to you for saving his life, since, besides bringing me all kinds of treasures from Europe”—Juliana thought of the Sevres and could not forbear a smile—“the political and military intelligence that he has brought along with the pots and pans has been of inestimable value to our government.”

“Good God
!
You mean, sir, that Count van Welcker is a
—”