At about nine o’clock, the rooms began to fill up. Sir James Filey arrived with several friends, to play faro, and he had no sooner greeted his hostess than he said: “You have not seen Ravenscar, have you, Lady Bel?”
Her ladyship gave a start, and faltered: “No, indeed, should I?”
Filey put up his glass, and surveyed the room. “Why, I he, that he was pledged to dine with Crewe, and some other; They waited for him until past eight, and then were obliged to sit down without him. I see he is not here.”
“No, no, he is not here!” said Lady Bellingham, fanning herself with a trembling hand.
“Very odd!” said Filey, with a faint, sneering smile. “I understand that Crewe sent word to his house, but got news of him there. I trust he has not forgotten our meeting tomorrow.”
Lord Mablethorpe, who was standing near enough to overhear these remarks, came towards the faro-table, saying: “You may rest at ease on that score, Sir James. My cousin will not fail to keep his appointment with you.”
“Oh, do you know where he is?” said Fil6y, looking him over with a lift to his brows.
“No,” said Adrian. “I do not. But if you mean to imply, sir, that my cousin will not come up to scratch I am happy to be able to set your mind at rest! He has never yet failed to keep a sporting engagement.”
“What an elevating thing is family affection!” said Filey sweetly. “Does your estimable cousin know that the betting is in my favour, I wonder? He was a little hasty when he laid such odds on himself, was he not? I recall that you were of that opinion at the time, my lord.”
“Was I?” retorted Adrian. “I must have forgotten the outcome of your previous encounter!”
Sir James continued to smile, with that air of patronage which made Adrian long to hit him. “But he matches his greys against a very different pair this time, you must remember.”
“True, but you are driving them, are you not?” said Adrian, with deceptive innocence.
Sir James’s face darkened, but before he could speak, Miss Grantham, who had joined the group, intervened, exclaiming: “So it is you, Sir James! I vow, we thought you had deserted us! Do you care to try your hand at faro tonight, or have you a fancy for the bones? Oh, there you are, Adrian! I wish you will fetch my fan from the other room: I have laid it down somewhere there. And what is all this about Mr Ravenscar, Sir James?”
“Merely that he seems to have disappeared, my dear. I hope we may not hear that he is in poor health, or has been called away on important business.”
“I hope not indeed, and do not suppose there is the least likelihood of it. I cannot conceive what should have put such a notion into your head!”
He spread out his hands. “My information is that he left his house at dusk this evening, and has not been heard of since. You will admit it to be a singular business!”
“I fear any hope you may cherish of winning by Mr Ravenscar’s default will have but a short life,” Miss Grantham replied contemptuously.
He coloured angrily, but as her words were received with a good deal of ill-concealed amusement by those who heard them, he merely bowed, and moved away from her.
Lady Bellingham, feeling herself to be in danger of fainting from fright, retired to the buffet, and told the waiter there to pour her out a glass of claret. She was reviving herself with this when her nephew came up to her, and asked in an urgent undervoice: “What is this they are saying about Ravenscar?
“Don’t mention that name!” begged her ladyship, with a shudder. “The least thing will bring on my spasms!”
“But are you acquainted with him?” he demanded. “I had no idea! Will he come here tonight?”
“Ask your sister!” said Lady Bellingham helplessly. “I have borne enough, and wash my hands of it. But if we are all clapped up for this night’s work, don’t lay the blame at my door, that’s all I ask of you!”
“I do not understand you! What is the matter, my dear ma’am? What can Deb know of Ravenscar?”
“She has him locked up in the cellar, and she means to keep him there,” replied her ladyship.
“What?”
“Oh dear, I ought not to have told you, for Deb said you were to know nothing about the mortgage, but I declare I am so distracted I do not know what I am doing! She has locked him in the cellar to make him surrender some odious bills of mine, and there is his race to be run tomorrow, and I know he will hound us to our graves for this night’s work! But there she stands, laughing away as though she had not a care in the world, and for all she knows he will catch his death in the cellar! But she has the key in her pocket, and she says that she doesn’t mean to give it up!”
“Does she, by God!” muttered Mr Grantham, and strode away to where his sister was standing. “Deb! I want a word with you!” he said in her ear. “Come outside on to the landing for a moment.”
She looked surprised, but called to Kennet to take her place at the E.O. board, and followed Kit out of the room. “What is it, my dear? You look quite upset! Have you been plunging at hazard, or have you discovered that the wine is corked?”
“Upset! I have reason to be! What is this my aunt tells me about Mr Ravenscar?”
“The devil fly away with Aunt Lizzie!” said Miss Grantham undutifully. “What has she told you?”
“That you have him locked in the cellar I cannot credit it!”
“Well, I did not mean you to know of it,” replied Deborah, “but there is not much harm done, after all. It is just such a joke as you will appreciate, Kit! You must know that Ravenscar is Lord Mablethorpe’s cousin, and has been set against my marriage to him. I cannot tell you the insults I have suffered at his hands! But that is nothing, and I don’t mean to complain now that I have such a neat revenge on him. He has got into his possession some bills of my aunt’s, and tried to threaten me with them. So I had him kidnapped, and brought to this house, and there he is, neatly tied up in the cellar until he chooses to give up the bills! There is nothing for you to worry your head over!”
“Nothing for me to worry my head over!” he repeated, in a stupefied tone. “Do you know what you have done? It is Arabella Ravenscar whom I hope to marry!”
She stared at him for a moment in the blankest astonishment, but instead of showing any sign of contrition, when the full import of this disclosure had dawned upon her, she burst into a gurgle of laughter. “Oh no! Oh, Kit, I am very sorry, but you had never the least hope of marrying her! Ravenscar would see her dead at his feet rather!”
“Thanks to your crazy conduct!” he said furiously. “Upon my soul, I believe you are mad! Where is the key to the cellar?”
“In my pocket, where it will stay!” she replied.
“Give it to me this instant! God knows what I can find to say to him! I shall tell him that you are not yourself. Oh, there was never anything so damnably unlucky!”
She was no longer laughing. She laid her hand on his arm, saying seriously: “You cannot mean to be so disloyal to me!”
“Disloyal! Do you expect me to help you to gaol? That is where you will end, I can tell you, unless I can smooth Ravenscar down! If you wish to talk of disloyalty, pray consider your own conduct in alienating the one man in the world I would give a fortune to be on terms with! Give me the key!”
“I’ll do no such thing!” Deborah said, backing away from him. “How can you be so poor-spirited, Kit? Does Arabella Ravenscar mean more to you than Aunt Lizzie, and me? I am very sure she does not intend to marry you!”
“You know nothing of the matter! Are you going to give me that key?”
“No, I am not!”
“Then I’ll take it!” said Kit, closing with her.
Miss Grantham fought desperately, but being no match for him was very soon overcome. He dragged the key from hi pocket, and waiting only long enough to say: “I am sorry you are hurt, but it is your own fault!” ran down the stairs to the hall.
She would have followed him, to call to Silas to stop him but the sound of voices below informed her that more guest were arriving. Angry as she was, she could not inaugurate brawl in front of strangers, and was obliged to go back in the saloon, to hide her rage and her chagrin under the be smile she could muster.
Mr Grantham was also checked by the noise of fresh arrival and turned back to make his way down the backstairs. In the basement he ran into a surprised kitchenmaid, but he told her hastily that he had come down to the cellars to look out a very special wine, and brushed past her. Finding the lantern by the area-door, he picked this up, and after plunging into a coal cellar, several store-cupboards, and a boot-hole, came up the locked door at the end of the stone passage. He fitted the key into the lock with trembling fingers, and turned it, and pushed open the door, holding up the lantern.
Its glow illuminated Mr Ravenscar’s harsh features, and showed him to be still sitting in the Windsor chair, with his legs crossed, and his hands behind his back.
“Sir!” stammered Kit. “Sir! Mr Ravenscar?”
“Who the devil are you?” asked Ravenscar.
Kit set the lantern down on the top of a corded trunk. “Oh sir, I do not know what you must think! I do not know what to say to you! I am Grantham—Deb’s brother, you know! I came as soon as I was aware—I was never more shocked in my life!”
“Her brother? Oh, yes, I seem to remember that there was some talk of a brother! Have you come to try to persuade me in your sister’s stead? You will not succeed.”
“No, no!” Kit assured him. “I never knew—I would never have consented, nor permitted—I am most heartily sorry for it, sir, indeed I am! I have come to set you free! Nothing was ever so disgraceful! But you will forgive Deb, I know! She was always so headstrong that no one could do anything with her but though she has a quick temper she don’t mean any harm.”
Ravenscar, who had been regarding him with a lower brow, broke in on this to demand: “Are you aware of the circumstances that have led to my being in this damnably uncomfortable cellar?”
“Yes—at least, not entirely, for I had no time to listen to it all! But it can’t signify, and Deb had no right to kidnap you like this! I cannot think how she could be so mad!”
“Let there be no misunderstanding about this!” said Ravenscar. “Your sister, I suppose, must have told you that I have insulted her in almost every conceivable way?”
“Oh, but I know how she talks when she is angry, and I assure you I set very little store by it!”
“Well, I did insult her,” said Ravenscar.
Kit looked very much taken aback by this, and did not know what to say. After a moment, he stammered: “I daresay she might have vexed you excessively. I do not rightly understand just what—but you cannot remain here, that is certain! Good God, did she have you tied up? I will have you free in a trice!”
“Keep your distance!” said Ravenscar, holding him off with one elegantly shod foot. “Why should you want to set me free? If you had come to knock my teeth down my throat I could better understand it.”
“You cannot suppose that I will allow my sister to—to tie people up, and put them in the cellar!” exclaimed Kit. “I never heard of such a thing! And when I learned that it was you—you must know, sir, that I am—that I have the honour of being acquainted with your sister—with Miss Arabella Ravenscar!”
“Oh!” said Ravenscar. “So you are acquainted with my sister, are you? Are you, I wonder, stationed in Tunbridge Wells?”
“Yes,” said Kit eagerly. “That is where I met her, sir! I had hoped to have called upon you in town. I wanted very particularly to—”
“To ask for my permission to pay your addresses to her, I infer?”
Kit blushed, and looked rather sheepish. “Yes. Yes, that was it, sir! You must know that I—”
“I want to know nothing at all about it!” interrupted Ravenscar unkindly. “There is not the smallest likelihood of my giving you permission to address her, and if you ever dare to come into my house, I’ll kick you down the steps!”
Kit turned pale at this brutal speech. “It was not my fault that you were brought here, sir! You must believe I had nothing to do with it! I was in total ignorance of it until just now! You cannot mean to visit your anger upon me, and upon Arabella! Indeed—”
“Let me tell you, Mr Grantham, that there would have been more hope of winning my consent to your suit if you had come here to quarrel with me!” said Ravenscar cuttingly. “When my sister marries it will be to a man with some spirit in him! Why you contemptible little worm, if you had a spark of pride or courage you would be calling me out, not offering to set me free! Your sister is worth a dozen of you! And she is a jade!”
Kit swallowed, and said with what dignity he could summon up: “You must be aware that I cannot strike a man who he is bound. If Deb had only told me what was amiss I would have acted for her, and I hope I know how to protect my own sister. But to have you kidnapped is beyond anything! You are angry and I cannot wonder at it, but—”
“Go to the devil!” said Ravenscar.
“But—but shan’t I untie you?” asked Kit, utterly bewildered. “You cannot mean to remain here all night!”
“What I mean to do is no concern of yours! How did you come by that key?”
“I took it from Deb,” faltered Kit.
“Then take it back to her—with my compliments! And don’t forget to lock the door behind you!” said Mr Ravenscar.
Kit looked at him in a somewhat dazed fashion, but as Mr Ravenscar’s countenance wore a most forbidding expression, he picked up the lantern, and backed out of the cellar, obediently locking the door again, and removing the key. It seemed as though Ravenscar as well as Deborah was mad, and he was quite at a loss to know what to do. He went slowly upstairs again, and since there could be no object in retaining the key to a cell whose inmate refused to be set free, he made his way to Deborah’s side, and twitched her sleeve to attract her attention
She cast him a scorching glance, and turned away, but he followed her into the adjoining saloon, saying gruffly: “Here, you may take this!”
She looked in surprise at the key. “Why, what do you mean? Have you thought better of it? Is he still there?”
“I think he is mad!” said Kit, in an aggrieved tone. “I did try to set him free, but he would not let me! He told me to go to the devil, and said I was to give you back the key with his compliments. I do not know what is to be done. You have ruined everything.”
She took the key, almost as astonished as he was. “He told you to give it back to me?” she repeated. “He would not let you set him free-,”
“No, I tell you! I do not know what is the matter with him. One would say he must be in his cups, but he is not.”
“He means to fight it out with me,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “Well, and so he shall!”
She lost very little time in making her way down to the basement again, carrying this time one of the bedroom candles set out on a table at the foot of the backstairs, and guarding its frail flame from the draughts in the passage with her cupped hand.
Mr Ravenscar looked at her with a flickering smile as she entered his prison, and rose from his chair. “Well, Miss Grantham? What now?”
She shut the door, and stood with her back to it. “Why did you refuse to let my brother release you?”
“Because I would not be so beholden to him! He has not an ounce of spirit in him.”
She sighed, but shook her head. “I know, but the poor boy found himself in a sad quandary. He is a little spoilt.”
“He wants kicking,” said Mr Ravenscar, “and he will get it if he comes serenading my sister!”
“I don’t think she has the least idea of marrying him,” said Miss Grantham reflectively.
“What do you know of the matter?”
“Nothing!” she said hastily. “Adrian has told me a little about her, that is all. But I am not here to talk of your sister or of Kit either. Have you thought better of your rash words, sir?”
“If you mean, do I intend to give you back those bills, no!”
“You need not think I shall let you go, just because you would not permit Kit to set you free!” she said in a scolding voice.
“I thought you were not here to talk of your brother? You may forget that incident.”
She looked at him rather helplessly. “You were to have dined with Mr Crewe tonight. It will be all over town by tomorrow that you have disappeared. Already Sir James Filey is letting fall the most odious hints! He is upstairs now.”
“Let him hint!” said Ravenscar indifferently.
“If you do not race tomorrow, what excuse can you make that will not make you appear ridiculous?”
“I have no idea. Have you any suggestion to offer me?”
“No, I have not,” she said crossly. “You think I do not me to keep my word, but I do!”
“I hope you mean to bring me a pillow for the night.”
“I don’t. I hope you will be excessively uncomfortable,” snapped Miss Grantham. “If I dared, I would let you starve death here!”
“Oh, don’t you dare?” he asked. “I had thought there was limit to your daring—or your effrontery!”
“I have a very good mind to let Silas come down and bring you to reason!” she threatened.
“By all means, if you imagine it would answer.”
“I will allow you half an hour to make up your mind or and for all,” she said, steeling herself. “If you are still obstinate you will be sorry!”
“That remains to be seen. I may be sorry, but you will get your bills, my girl, I promise you.”
“It will be quite your own fault if you catch a cold do, here,” she said. “And I dare say you will, for it may be damp!”
“I have an excellent constitution. If you mean to leave me now, do me the favour of allowing me to keep the candle!”
“Why should you want a candle?” she asked suspiciously,
“To frighten away the rats,” he replied.
She cast an involuntary glance around the cellar. “Good God are there rats here?” she said nervously.
“Of course there are—dozens of ’em!”
“How horrible!” she shuddered. “I will leave you the candle but do not think by that I shall relent!”
“I won’t,” he promised.
Miss Grantham withdrew, feeling baffled.
Upstairs, she found that Lord Mablethorpe had vanished and guessed that he had slipped away to talk to Phoebe in the back-parlour. Lucius Kennet came strolling up to her, and asked her under his breath how the prisoner was faring. She whispered that he was determined not to surrender. Mr Kennet grimaced. “You’d best let me reason with him, me darlin’”
“I will not. You have done enough mischief!” she said, remembering his perfidy. “How dared you trick him in my name. I told you I would not have it!”
“Ah, now, Deb, don’t be squeamish! How was I to kidnap him at all, without he walked into a trap?”
She turned her shoulder, and went away to watch faro-players, resolutely frustrating an attempt upon her aunt’s part to catch her eye.
The half-hour she had promised to allow Mr Ravenscar for final reflection lagged past, and she found herself at the end of it without any very definite idea of how she was to persuade him to submit if he should still prove obstinate. Her aunt was leading the way downstairs to the first supper when she paid her third visit to the cellar, and she could not help thinking that her prisoner must, by this time, be feeling both cold and hungry.
She unlocked the cellar door, and went in, closing it behind her. Mr Ravenscar was standing beside his chair, leaning his shoulders against the wall. “Well?” she said, in as implacable a tone as she could.
“I am sorry you did not send your henchman down to me,” said Ravenscar. “Or your ingenious friend, Mr Kennet. I was rather hoping to see one, or both, of these gentlemen. I meant to shut them up here for the night, but I suppose I can hardly serve you in the same way, richly though you deserve it!”
He had straightened himself as he spoke, and moved away from the wall. Before Miss Grantham could do more than utter a startled cry, his hands had come from behind his back, and he had grasped her right arm, and calmly wrested the key from her clutch.
“Who let you go?” she demanded, quivering with temper. Who contrived to enter this place? How did you get your hands free?”
“No one let me go. Or, rather, you did, my girl, when you left me a candle.”
Her eyes flew to his wrist, and a horrified exclamation broke from her. “Oh, how could you do that? You have burnt yourself dreadfully!”
“Very true, but I shall keep my appointment tomorrow, and you will not get your bills,” he returned.
She paid very little heed to this, being quite taken up by his hurts. “You must be suffering agonies!” she said remorsefully. “I would never have left the candle if I had guessed what you meant to do!”
“I do not suppose that you would. Don’t waste your sympathy on me! I shall do very well. We will now go upstairs, Miss Grantham, and set Sir James Filey’s mind at rest. Unless, of course, you prefer to remain here?”
“For heaven’s sake, don’t lock me in here with rats!” begged Miss Grantham, for the first time showing alarm. “Besides, you cannot go into the saloons like that! You will very likely die if nothing is done to your hands! Come up with me immediately! I will put some very good ointment on them, and bind up your wrists, and find you a pair of Kit’s ruffles in place of these! Oh dear, what a fool you are to do such a thing! You will never be able to drive tomorrow!”
“I don’t advise you to bet against me,” he said, looking down at her with a good deal of amusement. “Do you really mean to anoint my hurts?”
“Of course I do! You do not suppose that I am going to have it said that you lost your race through my fault, do you?” she said indignantly.
“I was under the impression that that was precisely what you meant me to do.”
“Well, you are wrong. I never thought you would be so stupidly obstinate!”
“Were you going to release me, then?”
“Yes—no! I don’t know! You had better come up the backstairs. You may tidy yourself in my brother’s room while I fetch the ointment, and some linen. I wish I had never laid eyes on you! You are rude, and stupid, and I was never so plagued by anyone in my life!”
“Permit me to return the compliment!” he said, following her along the passage.
“I will make you sorry you ever dared to cross swords with me!” she flung over her shoulder. “I’ll marry your cousin, and I’ll ruin him.”
“To spite me, I suppose,” he said satirically.
“Be quiet! Do you want to bring the servants out upon us?”
“It is a matter of indifference to me.”
“Well, it is not a matter of indifference to me!” she said.
He laughed, but said no more until they had reached Kit’s room upon the third floor. Miss Grantham left him there with the candle, while she went off to hunt for salves and linen bandages. When she returned, he had pulled off his coat, and discarded the fragments of his charred ruffles, besides straightening his tumbled cravat, and brushing his short black locks. The backs of his hands were badly scorched, and he winced a little when Miss Grantham smeared her ointment over them,
“It serves you right!” she told him. “I dare say it may hurl you, and I am sure I don’t care!”
“Why should you indeed?” he agreed.
She began to wind her bandage round his right hand. “Is it any easier?”
“Much easier.”
“If I were a man you would not escape so lightly!”
“I dare say I should not. Or even if you had a man to protect you.”
“You need not sneer at Kit! To be sure, it is the height of folly for him to be falling in love with your sister, but he could not help that! Give me your other hand!”
He held it out. “You are a remarkable woman, Miss Grantham.”
“Thank you, I have heard enough about myself from you!” she retorted.
“Jade and Jezebel,” said Mr Ravenscar, grinning. “Harpy.”
“Also doxy!” said Miss Grantham, showing her teeth.
“I apologize for that one.”
“Pray do not trouble! It does not matter to me what you think me.” She pulled open one of the drawers in the dressing table, found a pair of lace ruffles in it, and began swiftly to tack these on to the sleeves of his shirt. “There! If you pull them down, the bandages will not be so very noticeable. I have left your fingers free.”
“Thank you,” he said, putting on his coat again.
“If you take my advice, you will go home now, and to bed!”
“I shall not take your advice. I am going to play faro.”
“I don’t want you in my house!” said Miss Grantham.
“It is not your house. I am very sure your aunt desires nothing more than to see me at her faro-table. She shall have her wish.”
“I cannot stop you behaving imprudently, even if I wished to, which I don’t,” said Miss Grantham. “If you are determined to remain here, you had better go in to supper, for I dare say you must be hungry.”
“Your solicitude overwhelms me,” returned Ravenscar. “I own I had expected at least a loaf of bread and a jug of water in my dungeon—until I learned, of course, that you had some idea of starving me to death.”
Miss Grantham bit her lip. “I would like very much to starve you to death,” she said defiantly. “And let me tell you, Mr Ravenscar, that Lucius Kennet is downstairs, and if you have any notion of starting—a vulgar brawl in my house, I will have you thrown out of it! There is Silas, and both the waiters, and my aunt’s butler, and my brother too, so do not think I cannot do it!”
“This is very flattering,” he said, “but I fear my fighting qualities have been exaggerated. It would not take all these people to throw me out of the house.”
“And in any event,” pursued Miss Grantham, ignoring this remark, “your quarrel is with me, and not with Lucius. He merely did what I asked!” She moved towards the door, and opened it. “Now, if you are ready, I will show you the way down the backstairs, so that no one shall know you have been up here.”
“You think of everything, Miss Grantham. I will go out back area-door, and come in again by the front-door, picking up my hat and cane on the way, which we were so thoughtless as to leave in my dungeon.”
She made no objection to this, but led the way down the back stairs again. As she was about to let him out of the house, an idea occurred to her, and she asked abruptly: “How came you to know that Ormskirk held the mortgage, and those bills?”
“He told me so,” replied Mr Ravenscar coolly.
She stared at him. “He told you so? Of all the infamous. Well! I have always disliked him excessively, but I did no dream he would behave as shabbily as that, I must say!”
“You have always disliked him?” he repeated, looking rather strangely at her.
She met his look with a kindling eye. “Yes!” she said. “But not, believe me, Mr Ravenscar, as much as I dislike you!”