The Stolen Lake Page 5

  At the sight of Captain Hughes the Agent halted his activities, evidently somewhat embarrassed and discomposed.

  'Ah, there you are, my dear Captain! What a charming surprise. "Oh, what a surprise, doth gladden my eyes, What a vision of joy your admirer describes!" '

  'Are you moving house, then, Brandywinde?' demanded the captain, interrupting these transports.

  'Why – why yes; yes, that is so; in the joy of welcoming you, Captain, it had slipped my memory; but such, indeed, is the case.'

  'By hokey! Why the deuce didn't you tell me so? It is fortunate that I reached Tenby yesterday, and not next week,' indignantly answered the captain. 'Or are you merely removing to another quarter of the town?'

  'Ahem! Well – in fact – that is to say -'

  Mr Brandywinde's answer was cut short by the emergence of a slatternly-looking woman, clad in a tattered satin wrapper, which had a great many frills, and dangled about her in a highly insecure manner, as if it might slip off altogether at any moment.

  'Order them to make haste, my ducky diddlums, or we shall miss the packet!' exclaimed this personage, and then, observing Captain Hughes, she changed her expression to a simper, and added, 'Oh, la, I declare! Well, for shame, Ludovic! You never told me that you were expecting company!'

  'Did I not, my Angel? It must have slipped from my mind in the press of business. Allow me, my love – my dear old mess-mate, Captain Hughes of His Majesty's sloop Thrush. And this is little Miss Pittikin-Pattikin,' Brandywinde added vaguely, 'I told you that the captain wished to consult your views, my Honeycake, as to where the young lady could best obtain suitable raiment in which to make her curtsey before Her Mercy.'

  As he pronounced the latter words, Dido noticed that he, his wife, and all the servants looked nervously about, as if fearful that he might be overheard. And several of the servants made figure-eight signs with thumb and fingers.

  'Of course you told me about the matter, my Lovekin,' shrilly replied Mrs Brandywinde. 'And I writ a note about it, not this half-hour since. Do you return to the White Hart, Captain, directly, and before you can say "Pop goes the weasel" my dear sir, I can assure you, two of the best needle-women in New Cumbria will be in attendance on you. – Mind that chiffonier, blockhead! You nearly had the legs off it -' and she aimed a thump with her palm-leaf fan at the head of a passing servant. This had the effect of dislodging her wrapper, and she turned to retreat indoors, hoisting it together with a hurried hand.

  'Are you quite certain of that, ma'am?' Captain Hughes called after her doubtfully. He sounded as if, judging from her own untidy apparel, he wondered if she were the best person to recommend a dressmaker.

  'Sure as sharks is sharks,' replied Mrs Brandywinde, stopping in the doorway to give the captain such an extremely wide smile that she was able to display every one of her thirty-two teeth, all made of well-polished silver. 'Why, I may tell you that both sempstresses have been in the employ of Lady Ett – of Her Mercy's own Mistress of the Wardrobe.' Dido noticed the Agent give his wife a scowl at these words.

  The captain said, 'Oh well – in that case – I am much obliged to you, ma'am. And I shall not discommode you further at this time. Are you being replaced, sir, by another Agent, may I inquire?' he added to Mr Brandywinde.

  Dido missed the Agent's answer, if there was one, for at this moment there sidled out of Mon Repos the most unattractive small child she thought she had ever laid eyes on.

  Young Miss Brandywinde had the protruding eyes and lank sandy hair of her father, added to the bulging girth and sly expression of her mother; her face was covered in spots, and she was stickily sucking a length of sugar-cane which had dribbled down the front of her frilly red sarcenet dress. She might be about five years old.

  'Oh my eye! Who's this?' she demanded, removing the sugar-cane from her mouth just long enough to put the question, then popping it back in again. She gestured at Dido with her elbow.

  'Why – why – why, it is Cap'n Hughes's little friend – that's who it is!' indulgently but somewhat nervously replied her father.

  'I reckon you come from Greenland?' The child fixed her mud-coloured eyes on Dido.

  'Greenland? No, why'd you think that? I comes from London.'

  'What you doin' here, then?'

  'What do you suppose? She is visiting New Cumbria, my pipkin.' And, smiling in a somewhat sickly way at the captain, Mr Brandywinde explained, 'This is our Little Angel, sir! It is for her benefit, indeed, that we are removing from Tenby. The air hereabouts is – is – is insalubrious for young females between the age of five and fifteen. Decidedly insalubrious – they -'

  'Ludovic!' shrilled his wife. 'If those papers are not placed in the hamper directly they will be left behind. And if we are not out of the house in ten minutes, we shall miss the packet!'

  'Yes – yes, my angel – I am coming, I am coming!'

  'Well I reckon you must be from Greenland,' persisted Miss Brandywinde to Dido. 'Acos otherwise you'd never be sich a peevy clodpole as to come here. Why, it's bezants to breadcrumbs as you'll never -'

  'Quiet, you little dev – angel!' exploded her father, and with something less than fondness Mr Brandywinde picked up his daughter and plunked her into the cart, jamming her so tightly between a copper cauldron and a bundle of butterpats that she let out an indignant squawk.

  'What d'yer do that for, Pa? It's bezants to breadcrumbs as the Aurocs'll -'

  But Mrs Brandywinde, coming out at that moment in a bright pink India muslin which she must have donned at great speed, deposited a large roll of cotton quilts right on top of her child, which had the effect of silencing the Little Angel, as a canary is silenced by having a wrapper put over its cage.

  The driver cracked his whip, and the loaded cart started off at a gallop. The Agent and his wife had meanwhile jumped into a light chariot which had come up behind. Just before this rolled off, Dido thought she heard Mrs Brandywinde inquire of her husband,

  'Did you collect the dibs from Mrs M?' and his reply,

  'What do you think I paid the passage with, my Honey tart? I am not made of coleslaw, I assure you!'

  Then the chariot clattered off downhill towards the harbour in a cloud of dust.

  'Well!' muttered the captain in a tone of gloomy satisfaction. 'I am never wrong in my judgments. The moment I laid eyes on Brandywinde I knew him to be a dem'd unsatisfactory dilly-dallying, fossicking, freakish sort of fellow.'

  'I could have told you that, any time these last twenty-four hours,' said Dido.

  'Will you be quiet, child, and not speak unless you are required to?' Captain Hughes added crossly, 'We had best make all speed back to the White Hart, in case that slattern was telling the truth.'

  He started off at a round pace, and Dido was obliged to trot, in order to keep up with him.

  3

  On his return to the White Hart Inn, Captain Hughes was informed by a waiter that two modistes had arrived and were waiting in the young lady's bedchamber to take measurements.

  'Aha! Then that frowzy female spoke the truth; so far so good!' he exclaimed. 'I will step upstairs and give them their orders. Meanwhile you may have a nuncheon prepared for me and serve it in the coffee-room. Is there a mayor in this town?'

  'Yes, sir, the Jefe – Don Luis Pryce.'

  'I will wait on him as soon as I have finished my repast. – Come along, child, make haste,' he added to Dido, gesturing her to precede him up the shallow, polished wooden stairs. The White Hart appeared to be a very old building; the floors were black with age, and the upper storey was a maze of small dark rooms and passages, with steps up, and steps down, and very little light coming from very tiny windows. There were thick cobwebs hanging from the rafters; Dido, not fond of spiders, recalled that the captain's catalogue of New Cumbrian fauna had included seven-inch ones able to leap thirty feet; she hoped there were none of that kind in the White Hart.

  In Dido's room two ladies were waiting, seated on a wooden chest by the window. An enormous pincush
ion, the size of a saddle-bag, lay between them on the chest, together with a massive, glittering pair of scissors and a two-yard mahogany rule.

  The sempstresses stood up and curtseyed respectfully to Captain Hughes. They were dressed alike, in the black stuff gowns that seemed to be standard garb for the women of Tenby, with white fichus and white frilled caps, but in other respects they were as different from each other as possible. Dido took an instant dislike to both. One was small, aged, skinny, and wrinkled, the other big and buxom with a thick shock of coarse curly black hair escaping from under her cap and hanging halfway down her back. Each had a velvet pin-cushion fastened to her fichu, and a tape-measure attached to her belt. Both looked very attentively at Dido.

  'You are the needlewomen recommended to me by Mrs Brandywinde?' inquired the captain.

  'Yes, Capting. I am Mrs Morgan,' said the little old one, smiling – when she did so, she revealed the fact that she had no teeth at all, which made her smile rather like that of a lizard. 'And this here's my daughter, Mrs Vavasour.'

  The younger woman also smiled.

  'So this is the young lady who needs fitting out?'

  Her pitying, disdainful glance swept over Dido's salt-stained breeches, frayed collar, darned socks and scuffed brogans, one of them with a loose buckle.

  'Ah! Pretty as a pink palm blossom she be!' cooed Mrs Morgan, in a voice that did not match the expression in her sharp little black eyes.

  Dido was resigned to her own looks. She knew that she had a pale, pointed face, freckled like a musk-flower, pale observant grey eyes and short stringy brown hair. They're a-trying to gammon me, she decided, but I'm not a-going to let them. She stared coldly back at the two dressmakers while Captain Hughes gave them their instructions.

  'The young lady will be among the British party attending the court of Queen Ginevra to pay their respects to Her Majesty. I wish the child to be fitted out with two gowns, suitable for a young person of her – ahem – age and station – to wear at Court – besides slippers, sashes, kerchiefs – whatever is needful. Can you do that?'

  'Certingly, certingly, Capting.' Mrs Morgan curtseyed again.

  Mrs Vavasour said, 'Both gowns oughter be white. Mull for daytime wear – a round gownd over a silk pettingcoat, ingbroidered with cat-tails in turkey-work -'

  'And —' struck in her mother, 'french knots round the neck, and the border round the sleeves ingbossed – '

  'A pink sash – '

  'Then, for evening wear, a white silk taffety gownd, pin-striped with cream, and a lace pettingcoat – '

  'A sash of the same, ingbroidered with silver sequing fronds -'

  'She'll look like a Hangel from Heaving, that she will!'

  'Very well, very well!' said Captain Hughes testily. 'That sounds suitable enough – I know little of such matters. So the cut be plain and neat – nothing fussy or overtrimmed. Can you have both gowns ready by tonight? We leave on the dawn river-boat tomorrow morning.'

  Another glance passed between the two.

  'Why, surely, surely, Capting,' cooed Mrs Morgan. 'By midnight the work shall be done. The young lady will be fine as a bird of paradise – willn't she, Nynevie?'

  'Gracious to goodness, yes indeed!' smiled the younger woman. Dido could not decide which smile she disliked more – the bare gums, or the flashing silver teeth.

  'How much will the two gowns cost?'

  'One hundred bezants, Capting – and cheap at the price.'

  'Good god! Furbelows are costly in New Cumbria, it seems.'

  He glanced at Dido, as if wondering whether the outlay was worth it; she glanced back with equal resentment. 'Well, well – you shall be paid tonight.'

  'Beg parding, Capting,' said Mrs Morgan respectfully but firmly. 'We has to be paid in advance. Mull and silk and taffety and lacings – them's costly stuffs. Let alone the floss and ribbing and trimming. Pay us now, if you please, Capting.'

  'Oh, very well! I will send Mr Windward up with the money directly. Be a good child, now, Miss!' he said to Dido.

  'What about when they're through measuring me?' said Dido. 'Can I go out to see the sights?'

  'We shall be wanting you all afternoon, Missie,' said Mrs Vavasour. 'For trying and fitting.'

  'What? Don't I get to see the sights, not at all?'

  Both sempstresses shook their heads.

  'The streets of Tenby ain't safe for little misses,' said Mrs Morgan. 'Little gels has got lost and never come home to their own kitchings.

  'Even in their gardings they ain't safe.'

  'You'd do best to stay with us, dearie!' Mrs Morgan shook her head warningly.

  'Do as they say, child -' said Captain Hughes. Then he was gone.

  Dido felt much aggrieved. Captain Hughes had not offered her a nuncheon! And she was decidedly hungry. Furthermore she was by no means enthusiastic about the sound of her Court apparel. White mull embroidered with cat-tails – I shall look a right Charley in it, she thought glumly. And what possible use would it be on board ship?

  Might as well get it over with, however.

  'Ain't you a-going to measure me?' she demanded of the two women, who were, indeed, looking at her measuringly, but who made no move to take out their tape-measures.

  'In a twinkling, dearie. Just a-waiting for the wampum.'

  'Wampum?'

  'The mish, the ready, spondulicks, mint-sauce! Us don't work on credit, lovie.'

  What a havey-cavey pair, thought Dido. I wouldn't trust them as far as I could toss an eighteen-pounder.

  'Going to see the queen, is she? There's a lucky young lady,' said Mrs Morgan, grinning.

  'Indeed to goodness, yesV agreed her daughter.

  'Many young ladies 'ud give their eyes – wouldn't they, Nynevie?'

  'The eyes out of their heads!'

  At this moment Mr Windward entered the room, bearing the captain's shark-skin money-bag, from which he carefully proceeded to count out a hundred gold bezants. The two women stopped laughing and watched him with close and avaricious attention; their eyes wistfully followed the bag when, having passed over the ten little heaps of ten coins, he tightened the strings, knotted them again, and took himself off.

  'Hey – Mr Windward!' called Dido, as he was about to leave the room.

  'Well, young 'un?'

  'Is Mr Holystone downstairs? Is he busy?'

  'He is supervising the captain's repast. Do you wish me to give him a message?'

  'Jist – when he's free – I'd be obliged if he'd get someone to fetch me a bite of prog. I'm nibblish sharp-set,' Dido said disconsolately.

  Mr Windward's long serious face broke into a sympathetic grin as he looked at the two dressmakers waiting to start operations on Dido. He said, 'Very good, young 'un, I'll tell him to have a bite sent up to you.' The door clapped-to behind him.

  'Well, now! Listen to Miss Throw-her-weight-around!' said Miss Morgan, with strong disapproval.

  'Acts as if she were Lady Ettarde herself!'

  'Little gels oughter be seen and not heard!'

  'Us had best waste no time.

  'Not a blessed minute.'

  'Just you step this-a-way, dearie.'

  Drawing their tape-measures from their belts, both women urged Dido towards the window.

  'Come here where the light's better,' cooed old Mrs Morgan, and Mrs Vavasour said,

  'See that pincushion, sweetheart? See all those pins in it? Can you make out what's writ there?'

  A quantity of brass-headed pins were stuck into the fat cushion; they spelt out some word with a large number of 'x's in it. Dido, no great reader at best, shook her head.

  'Study it a mite closer, dearie – see if you can't make it out.'

  Both women had her by the shoulders, now; they were forcing her head down on the pincushion. As it came closer to her face she discovered that it had a

  strong, sweet musky odour, somewhat resembling camphor, but much more powerful. . .

  'Hey! Lemme go!' she said, struggling, but already h
er head was swimming, her voice seemed to come, not out of her own throat, but faintly, and from a long way off.

  'That's the dandy! Now them, us'll jist oping this lid -'

  With immense indignation, Dido realised that Mrs Vavasour had tied her hands behind her with a tape-measure, while Mrs Morgan opened the lid of the chest. Surprisingly, this proved to cover and surround a kind of stairhead; a flight of narrow steps led down steeply from it into blackness.

  'Now, us'll jist help the liddle dear over the side – '

  'I'll not! I'll not go! Cap'n Hughes'll have your guts for garters when he hears of this – ' gasped Dido, doing her best to fight the two women, who were half lifting, half dragging her over the side of the chest.

  'Ah, but he won't hear, lovie, not till you're as lost as Lucy's pocket. You step down, Nynevie, hold her legs – lucky she's sich a skinny one, her 'on't be no trouble to fetch to the boat – '

  Dido was rolled down the steps; Mrs Vavasour made no attempt to break her fall and she lay half-stunned at the bottom of the fairly long flight. A moment later she felt a thick blanket-like sack pulled over her legs and body; a string was drawn tight at the top, catching some of her hair painfully, and tied in a knot. Then she felt herself being dragged along the ground over rough uneven planks full of splinters, many of which pierced through the fabric of the bag, and also through Dido's skin. Her head and limbs were banged and thumped against the edges of boards; she was shaken and scraped and jounced and battered.

  One good result of this unpleasant exercise, however, was that, after a few minutes of it, Dido, who had been at the start almost unconscious from the fumes of the pincushion, was jolted back into full, angry and wary intelligence. Blister them, the old bags, she thought; I'll not yammer to let them know I'm awake – but what a gull I was! How could I be sich a nodcock as not to twig their lay from the first minute? Any addlepate could see they was a pair of downy ones. Guess I'd best look out for myself in New Cumbria; Cap'n Hughes ain't used to sich goings-on. He'll be no more use here than a thread-paper parasol in a thunderstorm.