The Eustace Diamonds (42 page)

‘A great many people hope that, and a great many think it nice to go on easily. Only you must not confess to it.' Then he went on with his lecture, and explained the meaning of scent, was great on the difficulty of getting away, described the iniquity of heading the fox, spoke of up wind and down wind, got as far as the trouble of ‘carrying', and told her that a good ear was everything in a big wood – when there came upon them the thricerepeated note of an old hound's voice, and the quick scampering, and low, timid, anxious, trustful whinnying of a dozen comrade younger hounds, who recognized the sagacity of their well-known and highly-appreciated elder. – ‘That's a fox,' said Lord George.

‘What shall I do now?' said Lizzie, all in a twitter.

‘Sit just where you are and light a cigar, if you're given to smoking.'

‘Pray don't joke with me. You know I want to do it properly.'

‘And therefore you must sit just where you are, and not gallop about. There's a matter of a hundred and twenty acres here I should say, and a fox doesn't always choose to be evicted at the first notice. It's a chance whether he goes at all from a wood like this. I like woods myself, because, as you say, we can take it easy; but if you want to ride, you should – By George, they've killed him!'

‘Killed the fox?'

‘Yes; he's dead. Didn't you hear?'

‘And is that a hunt?'

‘Well; – as far as it goes, it is.'

‘Why didn't he run away? What a stupid beast! I don't see so very much in that. Who killed him? That man that was blowing the horn?'

‘The hounds chopped him.'

‘Chopped him!' Lord George was very patient, and explained to Lizzie, who was now indignant and disappointed, the misfortune of chopping. ‘And are we to go home now? Is it all over?'

‘They say the country is full of foxes,' said Lord George. ‘Perhaps we shall chop half-a-dozen.'

‘Dear me! Chop half-a-dozen foxes! Do they like to be chopped? I thought they always ran away.'

Lord George was constant and patient, and rode at Lizzie's side from covert to covert. A second fox they did kill in the same fashion as the first; a third they couldn't hunt a yard; a fourth got to ground after five minutes, and was dug out ingloriously; – during which process a drizzling rain commenced. ‘Where is the man with my waterproof?' demanded Mrs Carbuncle. Lord George had sent the man to see whether there was shelter to be had in a neighbouring yard. And Mrs Carbuncle was angry. ‘It's my own fault,' she said, ‘for not having my own man. Luanda, you'll be wet.'

‘I don't mind the wet,' said Luanda. Lucinda never did mind anything.

‘If you'll come with me, we'll get into a barn,' said Sir Griffin.

‘I like the wet,' said Luanda. All the while seven men were at work with picks and shovels, and the master and four or five of the more ardent sportsmen were deeply engaged in what seemed to be a mining operation on a small scale. The huntsman stood over giving his orders. One enthusiastic man, who had been lying on his belly, grovelling in the mud for five minutes, with a long stick in his hand, was now applying the point of it scientifically to his nose. An ordinary observer with a magnifying glass might have seen a hair at the end of the stick. ‘He's there,' said the enthusiastic man, covered with mud, after a long-drawn, eager sniff at the stick. The huntsman deigned to give one glance. ‘That's rabbit,' said the huntsman. A conclave was immediately formed over the one visible hair that stuck to the stick, and three experienced farmers decided that it was rabbit. The muddy enthusiastic man, silenced but not convinced, retired from the crowd, leaving his stick behind him, and comforted himself with his brandy-flask.

‘He's here, my lord,' said the huntsman to his noble master, ‘only we ain't got nigh him yet,' He spoke almost in a whisper, so that the ignorant crowd should not hear the words of wisdom, which they wouldn't understand or perhaps believe. ‘Ifs that full of rabbits that the holes is all hairs. They ain't got no terrier here, I suppose. They never has aught that is wanted in these parts. Work round to the right, there; – that's his line,' The men
did work round to the right, and in something under an hour the fox was dragged out by his brush and hind legs, while the experienced whip who dragged him held the poor brute tight by the back of his neck. ‘An old dog, my lord. There's such a many of ‘em here, that they'll be a deal better for a little killing.' Then the hounds ate their third fox for that day.

Lady Eustace, in the meantime, and Mrs Carbuncle, with Lord George, had found their way to the shelter of a cattle-shed. Lucinda had slowly followed, and Sir Griffin had followed her. The gentlemen smoked cigars, and the ladies, when they had eaten their luncheons and drank their sherry, were cold and cross. ‘If this is hunting,' said Lizzie, I really don't think so much about it.'

‘It's Scotch hunting,' said Mrs Carbuncle.

‘I have seen foxes dug out south of the Tweed,' suggested Lord George.

‘I suppose everything is slow after the Baron,' said Mrs Carbuncle, who had distinguished herself with the Baron's stag-hounds last March.

‘Are we to go home now?' asked Lizzie, who would have been well pleased to have received an answer in the affirmative.

‘I presume they'll draw again,' exclaimed Mrs Carbuncle, with an angry frown on her brow. ‘It's hardly two o'clock.'

‘They always draw till seven, in Scotland,' said Lord George.

‘That's nonsense,' said Mrs Carbuncle. ‘It's dark at four.'

‘They have torches in Scotland,' said Lord George.

‘They have a great many things in Scotland that are very far from agreeable,' said Mrs Carbuncle. ‘Lucinda, did you ever see three foxes killed without five minutes' running, before? I never did.'

‘I've been out all day without finding at all,' said Lucinda, who loved the truth.

‘And so have I,' said Sir Griffin; – ‘often. Don't you remember that day when we went down from London to Bringher Wood, and they pretended to find at half-past four? – That's what I call a sell.'

‘They're going on, Lady Eustace,' said Lord George. ‘If you're
not tired, we might as well see it out.' Lizzie was tired, but said she was not, and she did see it out. They found a fifth fox, but again there was no scent. ‘Who the — is to hunt a fox with people scurrying about like that!' said the huntsman, very angrily, dashing forward at a couple of riders. ‘The hounds is behind you, only you ain't a-looking. Some people never do look!' The two peccant riders unfortunately were Sir Griffin and Lucinda.

The day was one of those from which all the men and women return home cross, and which induce some half-hearted folk to declare to themselves that they never will hunt again. When the master decided a little after three that he would draw no more, because there wasn't a yard of scent, our party had nine or ten miles to ride back to their carriages. Lizzie was very tired, and, when Lord George took her from her horse, could almost have cried from fatigue. Mrs Carbuncle was never fatigued, but she had become damp – soaking wet through, as she herself said – during the four minutes that the man was absent with her waterproof jacket, and could not bring herself to forget the ill-usage she had suffered. Lucinda had become absolutely dumb, and any observer would have fancied that the two gentlemen had quarrelled with each other. ‘You ought to go on the box now.' said Sir Griffin, grumbling. ‘When you're my age, and I'm yours, I will,' said Lord George, taking his seat in the carriage. Then he appealed to Lizzie. ‘You'll let me smoke, won't you?' She simply bowed her head. And so they went home – Lord George smoking, and the ladies dumb. Lizzie, as she dressed for dinner, almost cried with vexation and disappointment.

There was a little conversation upstairs between Mrs Carbuncle and Lucinda, when they were free from the attendance of their joint maid. ‘It seems to me,' said Mrs Carbuncle, ‘that you won't make up your mind about anything.'

‘There is nothing to make up my mind about.'

‘I think there is; – a great deal. Do you mean to take this man who is dangling after you?'

‘He isn't worth taking.'

‘Carruthers says that the property must come right, sooner or
later. You might do better, perhaps, but you won't trouble yourself. We can't go on like this for ever, you know.'

‘If you hated it as much as I do, you wouldn't want to go on.'

‘Why don't you talk to him? I don't think he's at all a bad fellow.'

‘I've nothing to say.'

‘He'll offer tomorrow, if you'll accept him.'

‘Don't let him do that, Aunt Jane. I couldn't say Yes. As for loving him; – oh laws!'

‘It won't do to go on like this, you know.'

‘I'm only eighteen; – and it's my money, aunt.'

‘And how long will it last? If you can't accept him, refuse him, and let somebody else come.'

‘It seems to me,' said Lucinda, ‘that one is as bad as another. I'd a deal sooner marry a shoemaker and help him to make shoes.'

‘That's downright wickedness,' said Mrs Carbuncle. And then they went down to dinner.

‘I thought you were,' said Sir Griffin.

‘Yes, Griff; and so were you; – but I succeeded.'

‘I am almost glad that I wasn't of the party,' said Mr Emilius, with that musical foreign tone of his. ‘Miss Macnulty and I did not quarrel; did we?'

‘No, indeed,' said Miss Macnulty, who had liked the society of Mr Emilius.

But on this morning there was an attraction for Lizzie which the Monday had wanted. She was to meet her cousin, Frank Greystock. The journey was long, and the horses had gone on overnight. They went by railway to Kilmarnock, and there a carriage from the inn had been ordered to meet them. Lizzie, as she heard the order given, wondered whether she would have to pay for that, or whether Lord George and Sir Griffin would take so much off her shoulders. Young women generally pay for nothing: and it was very hard that she, who was quite a young woman, should have to pay for all. But she smiled, and accepted the proposition. ‘Oh, yes; of course a carriage at the station. It is so nice to have someone to think of things, like Lord George.' The carriage met them, and everything went prosperously. Almost the first person they saw was Frank Greystock, in a black coat,
indeed, but riding a superb grey horse, and looking quite as though he knew what he was about He was introduced to Mrs Carbuncle and Miss Roanoke and Sir Griffin. With Lord George he had some slight previous acquaintance.

‘You've had no difficulty about a horse?' said Lizzie.

‘Not the slightest. But I was in an awful fright this morning. I wrote to MacFarlane from London, and absolutely hadn't a moment to go to his place yesterday or this morning. I was staying over at Glenshiels, and had not a moment to spare in catching the train. But I found a horse-box on, and a lad from MacFarlane's just leaving as I came up.'

‘Didn't he send a boy down with the horse?' asked Lord George.

‘I believe there is a boy, and the boy'll be awfully bothered. I told them to book the horse for Kilmarnock'

‘They always do book for Kilmarnock for this meet,' said a gentleman who had made acquaintance with some of Lizzie's party on the previous hunting-day; – ‘but Stewarton is ever so much nearer.'

‘So somebody told me in the carriage,' continued Frank, ‘and I contrived to get my box off at Stewarton. The guard was uncommon civil, and so was the porter. But I hadn't a moment to look for the boy.'

‘I always make my fellow stick to his horses,' said Sir Griffin.

‘But you see, Sir Griffin, I haven't got a fellow, and I have only hired a horse. But I shall hire a good many horses from Mr MacFarlane if he'll always put me up like this'

‘I'm so glad you're here,' said Lizzie.

‘So am I.I hunt about twice in three years, and no man likes it so much. I've still to find out whether the beast can jump.'

‘Any mortal thing alive, sir,' said one of those horsey-looking men who are to be found in all hunting-fields, who wear old brown breeches, old black coats, old hunting caps, who ride screws, and never get thrown out.

‘You know him, do you?' said Frank.

‘I know him. I didn't know as Muster MacFarlane owned him. No more he don't' said the horsey man, turning aside to one of his friends. ‘That's Nappie's horse, from Jamaica Street.'

‘Not possible,' said the friend.

‘You'll tell me I don't know my own horse next.'

‘I don't believe you ever owned one,' said the friend.

Lizzie was in truth delighted to have her cousin beside her. He had at any rate forgiven what she had said to him at his last visit, or he would not have been there. And then, too, there was a feeling of reality in her connexion with him, which was sadly wanting to her – unreal as she was herself – in her acquaintance with the other people around her.

And on this occasion three or four people spoke or bowed to her, who had only stared at her before; and the huntsman took off his cap, and hoped that he would do something better for her than on the previous Monday. And the huntsman was very courteous also to Miss Roanoke, expressing the same hope, cap in hand, and smiling graciously. A huntsman at the beginning of any day or at the end of a good day is so different from a huntsman at the end of a bad day! A huntsman often has a very bad time out hunting, and it is sometimes a marvel that he does not take the advice which Job got from his wife.
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But now all things were smiling, and it was soon known that his lordship intended to draw Craigattan Gorse. Now in those parts there is no surer find, and no better chance of a run, than Craigattan Gorse affords.

‘There is one thing I want to ask, Mr Greystock,' said Lord George, in Lizzie's hearing.

‘You shall ask two,' said Frank.

‘Who is to coach Lady Eustace today; – you or I?'

‘Oh, do let me have somebody to coach me,' said Lizzie.

‘For devotion in coachmanship,' said Frank – ‘devotion, that is, to my cousin, I defy the world. In point of skill I yield to Lord George.'

‘My pretensions are precisely the same,' said Lord George. ‘I glow with devotion; my skill is naught.'

‘I like you best. Lord George' said Lizzie, laughing.

‘That settles the question' said Lord George.

‘Altogether' said Frank, taking off his hat.

‘I mean as a coach' said Lizzie.

‘I quite understand the extent of the preference,' said Lord
George. Lizzie was delighted, and thought the game was worth the candle. The noble master had told her that they were sure of a run from Craigattan, and she wasn't in the least tired, and they were not called upon to stand still in a big wood, and it didn't rain, and, in every respect, the day was very different from Monday. Mounted on a bright-skinned, lively steed, with her cousin on one side and Lord George de Bruce Carruthers on the other, with all the hunting world of her own county civil around her, and a fox just found in Craigattan Gorse, what could the heart of woman desire more? This was to live. There was, however, just enough of fear to make the blood run quickly to her heart. ‘We'll be away at once now,' said Lord George with utmost earnestness; ‘follow me close, but not too close. When the men see that I am giving you a lead, they won't come between. If you hang back, I'll not go ahead. Just check your horse as he comes to his fences, and. if you can, see me over before you go at them. Now then, down the hill – there's a gate at the corner, and a bridge over the water. We couldn't be better. By George! there they are, – altogether. If they don't pull him down in the first two minutes, we shall have a run.'

Lizzie understood most of it – more at least than would nine out of ten young women who had never ridden a hunt before. She was to go wherever Lord George led her, and she was not to ride upon his heels. So much at least she understood – and so much she was resolved to do. That dread about her front teeth which had perplexed her on Monday was altogether gone now. She would ride as fast as Lucinda Roanoke. That was her prevailing idea. Lucinda, with Mrs Carbuncle, Sir Griffin, and the ladies' groom, was at the other side of the covert. Frank had been with his cousin and Lord George, but had crept down the hill while the hounds were in the gorse. A man who likes hunting but hunts only once a year is desirous of doing the best he can with his day. When the hounds came out and crossed the brook at the end of the gorse, perhaps he was a little too forward. But, indeed, the state of affairs did not leave much time for waiting, or for the etiquette of the hunting-field. Along the opposite margin of the brook there ran a low paling, which made the water
a rather nasty thing to face. A circuit of thirty or forty yards gave the easy riding of a little bridge, and to that all the crowd hurried. But one or two men with good eyes, and hearts as good, had seen the leading hounds across the brook turning up the hill away from the bridge, and knew that two most necessary minutes might be lost in the crowd. Frank did as they did, having seen nothing of any hounds, but with instinctive knowledge that they were men likely to be right in a hunting-field. ‘If that ain't Nappie's horse, I'll eat him,' said one of the leading men to the other, as all the three were breasting the hill together. Frank only knew that he had been carried over water and timber without a mistake, and felt a glow of gratitude towards Mr MacFarlane. Up the hill they went, and not waiting to inquire into the circumstances of a little gate, jumped a four-foot wall and were away. ‘How the mischief did he get a-top of Nappie's horse?' said the horsey man to his friend.

‘We're about right for it now,' said the huntsman, as he came up alongside of Frank. He had crossed the bridge, but had been the first across it, and knew how to get over his ground quickly. On they went, the horsey man leading on his thoroughbred screw, the huntsman second, and Frank third. The pace had already been too good for the other horsey man.

When Lord George and Lizzie had mounted the hill, there was a rush of horses at the little gate. As they topped the hill Lucinda and Mrs Carbuncle were jumping the wall. Lord George looked back and asked a question without a word. Lizzie answered it as mutely, Jump it! She was already a little short of breath, but she was ready to jump anything that Lucinda Roanoke had jumped. Over went Lord George, and she followed him almost without losing the stride of her horse. Surely in all the world there was nothing equal to this! There was a large grass field before them, and for a moment she came up alongside of Lord George. ‘Just steady him before he leaps,' said Lord George. She nodded her assent, and smiled her gratitude. She had plenty of breath for riding, but none for speaking. They were now very near to Luanda, and Sir Griffin, and Mrs Carbuncle. ‘The pace is too good for Mrs Carbuncle's horse,' said Lord George. Oh, if she could only
pass them, and get up to those men whom she saw before her! She knew that one of them was her cousin Frank. She had no wish to pass them, but she did wish that he should see her. In the next fence Lord George spied a rail, which he thought safer than a blind hedge, and he made for it. His horse took it well, and so did Lizzie's; but Lizzie jumped it a little too near him, as he had paused an instant to look at the ground. ‘Indeed, I won't do it again,' she said, collecting all her breath for an apology. ‘You are going admirably,' he said, ‘and your horse is worth double the money.' She was so glad now that he had not spared for price in mounting her. Looking to the right she could see that Mrs Carbuncle had only just floundered through the hedge. Lucinda was still ahead, but Sir Griffin was falling behind, as though divided in duty between the niece and the aunt. Then they passed through a gate, and Lord George stayed his horse to hold it for her. ‘Don't mind talking, but come along, and take it easy.' She smiled again, and he told himself that she was wondrous pretty. And then her pluck was so good! And then she had four thousand a year! ‘Now for the gap! – don't be in a hurry. You first, and I'll follow you to keep off these two men. Keep to the left, where the other horses have been.' On they went, and Lizzie was in heaven. She could not quite understand her feelings, because it had come to that with her that to save her life she could not have spoken a word. And yet she was not only happy but comfortable. The leaping was delightful, and her horse galloped with her as though his pleasure was as great as her own. She thought that she was getting nearer to Lucinda. For her, in her heart, Lucinda was the quarry. If she could only pass Lucinda! That there were any hounds she had altogether forgotten. She only knew that two or three men were leading the way, of whom her cousin Frank was one, that Lucinda Roanoke was following them closely, and that she was gaining upon Lucinda Roanoke. She knew she was gaining a little, because she could see now how well and squarely Lucinda sat upon her horse. As for herself, she feared she was rolling; – but she need not have feared. She was so small, and light, and lithe, that her body adapted itself naturally to the pace of her horse. Lucinda was of a different build, and it behoved her
to make for herself a perfect seat. ‘We must have the wall,' said Lord George, who was again at her side for a moment. She would have ‘had' a castle wall, moat included, turrets and all, if he would only have shown her the way. The huntsman and Frank had taken the wall. The horsey man's bit of blood, knowing his own powers to an inch, had declined – not roughly, with a sudden stop and a jerk, but with a swerve to the left, which the horsey man at once understood. What the brute lacked in jumping he could make up in pace, and the horsey man was along the wall and over a broken bank at the head of it, with the loss of not more than a minute. Lucinda's horse, following the ill example, balked the jump. She turned him round with a savage gleam in her eye which Lizzie was just near enough to see, struck him rapidly over the shoulders with her whip, and the animal flew with her into the next field. ‘Oh, if I could do it like that!' thought Lizzie. But in the next minute she was doing it, not only as well but better. Not following Lord George, but close at his side, the little animal changed his pace, trotted for a yard or two, hopped up as though the wall were nothing, knocked off a top stone with his hind feet, and dropped on to the ground so softly that Lizzie hardly believed that she had gone over the big obstruction that had cost Lucinda such an effort. Lucinda's horse came down on all four legs, with a grunt and a groan, and she knew that she had bustled him. At that moment Lucinda was very full of wrath against the horsey man with the screw who had been in her way. ‘He touched it,' gasped Lizzie, thinking that her horse had disgraced himself. ‘He's worth his weight in gold,' said Lord George. ‘Come along. There's a brook with a ford. Morgan is in it.' Morgan was the huntsman. ‘Don't let them get before you.' Oh, no. She would let no one get before her. She did her very best, and just got her horse's nose on the broken track leading down into the brook before Lucinda. ‘Pretty good, isn't it?' said Lucinda. Lizzie smiled sweetly. She could smile, though she could not speak. ‘Only they do balk one so at one's fences!' said Lucinda. The horsey man had all but regained his place, and was immediately behind Lucinda, within hearing – as Lucinda knew.