A Forgotten Hero Part 10

"Four," said the Countess, curtly. This was rather miserly measure, four ells and a third being the usual reckoning; but Mistress Underdone measured and cut in silence.

"Thou mayest allow a third more for the silk and c.r.a.pe," said the Countess, in a fit of unusual generosity.

Mistress Underdone finished her measuring, laying each piece of material neatly folded on the last, until the table held a tall heap of them.

"Now for hoods," pursued the Countess. "Black cloth for two, lined with cats' fur; russet for two more. Capes for outdoor wear--two of the green serge; one of black cloth lined with cats' fur; one of silk. Four linen wimples; two pairs of cloth boots, two of slippers; two corsets; three of those broidered kerchiefs, one better than the others; four pairs of hosen. Measure off also twenty-four ells of linen cloth."

"Of what price, if it please my Lady?"

"Fivepence the ell. And the boots of sixpence a pair. What did that green serge cost?"

"Threepence the ell, my Lady."

"That is monstrous. Have I no cheaper? Twopence would be good enough for her."

"If it please my Lady, there is only that coa.r.s.e grey serge at three halfpence the ell, which was bought for the cook-maids."

"Humph! I suppose that would scarcely do," said the Countess, in a tone which sounded as if she wished it would. "Well, then--those ornaments.

She must have a silver fibula, I suppose; and a copper-gilt one for common. What made thee put out all those other things? That is enough for her. If she wants a silver chain, her husband must give it her; I shall not. As to rings and necklaces, they are all nonsense--not fit for such as she."

"Would my Lady think proper to allow a dovecote with silver pins?"

The dovecote was a head-dress, a kind of round caul of gold or silver network, secured by gold or silver pins fastened in the hair.

"Not I. Let her husband give her such fooleries."

"And may I request to know what my Lady allows for making the garments?"

"Three halfpence each."

"Might I be pardoned if I remind my Lady that the usual price is twopence each?"

"For me, perhaps; not for her."

Mistress Underdone went on measuring the linen in silence.

"There, that finishes for Clarice," said the Countess. "Now for Diana.

She may have a silver chain in addition, two of the best kerchiefs, and--no, that is enough. Otherwise let her have just the same."

"If my Lady would graciously indulge her servant with permission to ask it, do the maidens know yet what is to befall them?"

"No. I shall tell them on Sunday. Time enough."

And the Countess left Mistress Underdone to finish the work by herself.

"On Sunday! Only two days beforehand!" said Agatha Underdone to herself. "Diana will stand it. She is one that would not care much for anything of that kind, and she will rule the house. But Clarice! If she should have given her heart elsewhere!--and I have fancied, lately, that she has given it somewhere. That poor child!"

"But how can we?" queried Clarice. "If I were to speak to the Lady-- even if I dared--I doubt--"

"I do not doubt, sweetheart," replied Sir Piers. "No, the path must be rather mere winding than that, though I confess I hate tortuous paths.

Father Miles is the only person who has any influence with the Lady, and Father Bevis is the only one who has any with him."

"But Father Bevis would have no sympathy with a love-story."

"I am not sure that he would. But my Lord will, I know; and Father Bevis will listen to him. Leave this business to me, my fair Clarice.

If I can obtain my Lord's ear this evening after vespers, and I think I can, we shall soon have matters in train; and I have a fine hawk for Father Miles, which will put him in a good humour. Now, farewell, for I hear the Lady's voice within."

The lovers parted hastily, and Clarice went in to attire herself for ma.s.s. For any one of her maidens to be absent from that ceremony would have been a terrible offence in the eyes of the Countess; nor would any less excuse than serious illness have availed to avert her displeasure.

Dinner followed ma.s.s, and a visit to the shrine of Saint Edward, concluded by vespers, occupied the remainder of the afternoon. There was half an hour to spare before supper, and the girls were chatting together in their usual "bower," or boudoir, when, to their surprise, the Countess entered.

"I have ado but with two of you," she said, as she seated herself.

Naturally, the girls supposed that some penalty was about to befall those two. How had they offended her? and which of them were the offenders? To displease the Countess, as they all knew, was so extremely easy, that not one of them was prepared for the next sentence.

"Two of you are to be wed on Tuesday."

This was a bombsh.e.l.l. And it was the more serious because they were aware that from this sentence there was no appeal. Troubled eyes, set in white faces, hurriedly sought each other.

Was it from sheer thoughtlessness, or from absolute malice, or even from a momentary feeling of compa.s.sion towards the two who were to be sacrificed, that the Countess made a long pause after each sentence?

"Diana Quappelad," she said.

Olympias, Roisia, and Clarice drew a sigh of relief. There were just half the chances against each that there had been. Diana stood forward, with a slight flush, but apparently not much concerned.

"Thou art to wed with Master Fulk de Chaucombe, and thy bridegroom will be knighted on the wedding-day. I shall give thee thy gear and thy wedding-feast. Mistress Underdone will show thee the gear."

The first momentary expression of Diana's face had been disappointment.

It pa.s.sed in an instant, and one succeeded which was divided between pleasurable excitement and amus.e.m.e.nt. She courtesied very low, and thanked the Countess, as of course was expected of her.

Roisia stood behind, with blank face and clasped hands. There might be further pain in store, but pleasure for her there could now be none.

The Countess quite understood the dumb show, but she made no sign.

"Clarice La Theyn."

The girl stood out, listening for the next words as though her life hung on them.

"I shall also give thee thy gear, and thy squire will be knighted on the wedding-day."

The Countess was turning away as though she had said all. Clarice had heard enough to make her feel as if life were not worth having. A squire who still required knighthood was not Piers Ingham. Did it matter who else it was? But she found, the next moment, that it might.

"Would my Lady suffer me to let Clarice know whom she is to wed?" gently suggested Mistress Underdone.

"Oh, did I not mention it?" carelessly responded the Countess, turning back to Clarice. "Vivian Barkeworth."

She paused an instant for the courtesy and thanks which she expected.

But she got a good deal more than she expected. With a pa.s.sionate sob that came from her very heart, Clarice fell at the feet of the Lady Margaret.