High Play: a comedy off the stage

Chapter I

A GOOD MOTHER. " Oh, curse it all ! my head ! my head ! " Lord Braetoun jerked himself viciously from his right side to his left as he lay on a couch, and the effect was not soothing, for he uttered a groan, and then something else which made Lady Braetoun, a very fashionably dressed, handsome, patrician dame, turn from the window in Hyde Park Gardens, and look at her son with a half-mournful, half-contemptuous expression of countenance. " Poor fellow ! " she said softly, as she shrugged her shoulders, raised her eyebrows, and then took out a laced handkerchief, with which she carefully dabbed her forehead just where the none too abundant frizzed grey hair covered it with tiny curls. This action necessitated a glance at one of the mirrors, which seemed gratifying, for she drew herself up and then took a few steps towards the couch.

" Does your head still ache so much, Roderick ? " she said. n " Ache ! " he groaned. " It's as if boiling lead kept on running from side to side." "Shall I ring for a cup of strong tea to be made, dear? " she asked. " Oh, yes, do, pray, if you want it to be a hundred times worse," he cried fiercely. " My nerves are bad enough without strong tea." " It always does mine good, my dear," said the lady, coldly, as she arranged the full lace ruffles about her delicate blue-veined wrists. " Does yours good ! Well, what of that ? You are a woman, aren't you ? — Oh dear ; oh dear ! " " But you are so impatient, my love. Really, Roderick, as a man you ought to try and bear pain with the mind of the Stoic." " D — n the Stoics ! The headache is unbearable." " If you are going to use such language as that, Roderick, perhaps I had better leave you."

" I wish to goodness you would, and not stay there firing off platitudes at me. Can't stand an honest English oath, can't you ? Why that's nothing to what I used to hear the old man say to you." " Let your father rest in his grave, my son, and try and pay a little respect to your mother, if you can." " There, don't bother me with all that chatter. You don't know what I am suffering." " I pretty well do, but I cannot pity you. If you acted sensibly you would have been fit to go with me this morning to church." The young man laughed bitterly. " Be a good boy and walk with mamma to our pew, and carry the books, to go and sit among all the rest of the miserable sinners in lace and silk, scenting the place like so much incense. — Ah ! there it goes again." " Lie still, then. If you had not burst out into that foolish tirade of irreverence you would not have felt the pang," said the lady with dignity, and she turned to gaze in a glass again, turning her head first to one side and then to the other, to pat and arrange her hair, un conscious of the fact that her son was gazing at her with a face full of contempt.

" Looks lovely," he said with a snarl. " Is that the new coiffure from Truefitt's ? " The wrinkles in Lady Braetoun's handsome face showed in a marked way for the moment, and there was a peculiar twitching about the corners of her lips, as she said coldly, — " I thought you were ill, Roderick." " Well, so I am," he cried, with a peculiar drawing in of his breath, as if he were suffering intense pain. "I should not have thought it of one who is well enough to insult his mother." " Insult ! Bah ! You make me speak, with all your mincing. Anyone would think you were a young widow on the look-out for a fresh husband." " And you some coarsely-minded young man of the lower classes. That is not wit — it is not badinage, my son, only brutality, such, however, as I suppose I must expect from one who associates with grooms and betting men."

" That's right ; go on. I wish you suffered as I do for half an hour. It would make you more feeling." " I am quite ready to be sympathetic, and to do all I can for you, Roderick, if you will act like a reasonable being." "You don't know how bad I am," he groaned " Oh yes, I do ; it goes without saying ; but I don't wonder after your dissipated life." " Dissipated devil ! " " You force me to speak to you, my dear. I do not B want to know anything about the life you lead, nor to bring you to making confessions of your folly." " That's right ; get a man down sick and helpless, and then jump upon him." "It is my duty, Roderick, to jump upon you, as you so slangily term it." " Then you should have begun earlier," he said bitterly. " Perhaps so ; but I trusted to my son's common sense. I had the dignity of our position to keep up, the exigencies of society to attend to.

Succeeding as you did to the title and your father's fortune, I was willing to believe that my son — a Braetoun — would behave worthily." " Go on ! — go on." " Yes, I have much to say, and though it pains me I must go on. I ought, I know, to have tried to check you sooner, before you had ruined your property, and brought yourself down to what you are." " A regular wreck, I suppose," he sneered. "No, but one suffering bitterly from his follies. I hear too much about 3'ou. No : I do not play the spy. I try hard to remain in ignorance, and if I were selfish I should shrug my shoulders and say : Why should I trouble myself about him ? I have enough for my wants ; he must do as he pleases. But I am not selfish, Roderick. I think deeply about you and your interest, and I tell you now that it is quite time you ceased to sow your wild oats, and thought about redeeming the past.

I am really shocked. What do you expect is to be the end of all this keeping of wretched racehorses and pretty actresses ? " " Pistol, I suppose." " Worse and worse ! A Braetoun talking of taking such a cowardly step as that ! Shame ! You are ten times worse than your father. Reckless, imprudent, a gambler, perhaps, but he was always a nobleman. He would not let me suffer. But really if it had not been for his forethought in settling upon me what I have, I don't know where I should have been." " Have you done ? " " No, Roderick, I have not finished. I have let you go on in your own way all this time without doing anything, hoping that a change would come, but hoping in vain." " I wish to goodness you would not worry me now I am so ill." " I must. Now is the time to try and bring you to your senses.

It is the only chance I have, Rod. You see you are getting worse and worse — constitution ruined — hopelessly involved in debt — " " Oh, I shall make a. grand coup one of these days, and clear everything off," he groaned. " Not you. That's what every foolish racing and betting man thinks." " Will you leave off, mother ! My head's all of a whirl. There, it's of no use to make a fuss about it. I must keep on till I win, and once I do, I'll sell the horses and have no more of it." " And will you give up that other dreadful shameless expense ? " " Never you mind about that." " But I do mind about it, Roderick. As your mother, it is my duty. Now, my dear boy, do be ruled by me. Do take my advice. You never will win enough on the turf to clear yourself." " How do you know ? " " By experience. There is only one way to recoup yourself."

" Speculate ? " " Yes, if you like to call it so." " What in ? " " Matrimony." "I? Not fit to marry. Rubbish!" " Yes, that is what you are talking. You must marry, Rod, my dear ! It is your duty. Begin quite a new life, my dear, and clear the estate. Then turn quiet country gentleman." " Ha, ha, ha ! Hff ! Oh, my head ! " " Self-inflicted pain, Roderick. But come now ; you know I am taking sense." " I don't want a wife." " Yes, you do. It is time you married." " Who'd have me ? You don't want me to marry that widow ? " " You might do worse, dear : she has a very fine fortune, and is a sweet-tempered little woman." " Sweet-tempered little fool. Bah ! Idiot ! I won't have her. I wouldn't if she were a ten times million airess, so drop it." "I don't wan't you to marry her, dear." " Then you've got another woman up your sleeve ?

" " ' Drop it ! ' — ' up your sleeve ! ' — My dear Roderick, should you make use of such slang to your mother ? " " Oh, my head ! " " Let me lay my eau-de-Cologne moistened handker chief on your forehead." "Lay the coal-scuttle on it if you like, only don't bother me." " I won't, my darling. — There now, isn't that cool and pleasant ? " ".Oh, it's;very well, but smells spirity. I want a soda and-brandy." " No, no, not now. You really must not drink as you do, Roderick dear. Now, listen to me. I have a girl up my sleeve for you, if you will talk slang, you naughty boy." " Who is it ? " " That charming Miss Emsworth." " Who's she ? " " Roderick ! Now, my dear boy, you were introduced to her at Lady Baringham's, and she dined here with her father." " Oh, her ! Simpering bread-and-butter school miss."

" She is not, my dear ! only sweet and innocent. The very woman for you. This is her first season. There are a dozen men wanting her, but I said as soon as she had been here an hour : ' That is the very girl for my boy Roderick.' She is the only child, and Mr. Emsworth must have at least a million." " What is he — a Whiteley, or John Barker ? " " Absurd boy ! No ! he is one of the British South Africa princes, and she'll be enormously rich. I had long talks with him, and he's a thoroughly keen, shrewd man of business." " Then he won't be such a d " " Roderick ! " " Well, blessed fool as to marry his little girl to a used up rake of a fellow, right to the eyes in debt and difficulties." " Don't you be so fond of depreciating yourself, silly boy. You've been foolish, and now you are ill and repentant.

I have seen a little of the world, my darling, and I know what Mr. Emsworth means by settling in England this season, and taking his daughter everywhere. These men, when they have made money, want position. Trust me for it, he wants to match her to some scion of good family — to give his child a title, and the son-in-law a large fortune. Now do you see ? " " I don't want the chit. Silly schoolgirl, who could only say ' yes ' and ' no.' " " You did not get to know her. She is very sweet, highly accomplished, has a lovely voice, plays brilliantly, speaks three or four languages, and is charmingly pretty. Only wants the style that a season would give her. Rod, my boy, you have only to ask, and there is a delightful wife for you with a noble fortune. Come now, do be good, and take my advice." " What, go and tell the old man that I'm regularly used up and want to marry his filly ?

" " Filly ! For shame, Roderick ! Go to him and propose in due form, prior to going abroad." " Going abroad ? What, to get rid of my duns ? " "Oh, you dear, foolish, absurd child! No — no— no ! You are out of order and want change. Make sure of her first, and then go and see Allan Murray or his father, tell him the exact truth about everything, and ask him where you had better go for three months — Ems, Baden, Aix, Cannes, or Algeria." " Three months ! Besides, I can't afford — " " You shall afford it, my dear, even if I sell my diamonds ; for the estate must be rescued from these dreadful harpies to whom you have pledged it." " Here, how the devil do you know ? " cried the young man, sitting up. " Never mind. I know everything about you, Roderick — everything," said the lady with intense emphasis.

" The deuce you do." " Yes, everything, you foolish boy, and that it is time a certain dissipation came to an end. There, you know I am right, so do as I wish. Ce n'est gue le premier pas qui route. Before the three months are over you will be thoroughly well again, and I shall have managed Mr. Emsworth and his daughter. He will trust me to introduce his child to society and be her chaperon. I quite love the dear girl already. Then I shall persuade him to take her out for a month to wherever you are, and — there, do you see ? " " Messieurs, le jeu est fait. Yes, I see, mother. What a clever old girl you are ! " " Somebody need be clever, my dear." " Is she all you say? " " Ten times more, Roddy dear. A most lovable girl, and as innocent as she is high. Ah, you lucky fellow ; it is a chance of chances."

" Is it ? Don't count your chickens until — " " Ah, but this little chicken is hatched, Rod, my dear. There, I'm very glad we've had this pleasant chat ; you will be good now, won't you ? " " Oh, yes, for I'm sick of living as I am." " Of course he is, poor darling," said Lady Brae toun, bending down to re-saturate the handkerchief with scent and kiss her son's brow. " No wonder, poor boy." " Gently with that scent : you are soaking me. What time is it ? " " Half-past twelve, dear, and the people are actually coming out of church." " What ! " " Roderick, my darling, what is the matter ? " " Oh, nothing," cried the young man, dragging at the bell. " Only an appointment that I must keep." "No, no, my darling, pray lie still. Have lunch with me to-day." " Did you ring, my lady ? " "No, I did.

I ordered the phaeton to be round at twelve ; why isn't it at the door ? " " Been at the door half an hour, my lord," said the servant who had answered the bell. " Then why didn't you come up and tell me ? " " Your lordship's orders were that you were not to be told, because you could always see for yourself." " Go to the devil, idiot ! " " Yes, my lord," and the door closed. "You shouldn't speak so pettishly to the servants, Roderick darling," said Lady Braetoun, " it will make them think you irritable. Are you going to have a drive, then ? " " If I wasn't going for a drive I shouldn't have ordered the horses round, should I ? " " No, my dear, of course not. Good-bye, darling. You will be back to dinner ? " " No ; I shall dine at the club." " Very well, dear. But you will think seriously of what I said ?

" Roderick, Lord Braetoun, was standing scowling at his handsome features in the glass, noticing the dark rings under his eyes, and a peculiar twitching at the corners. Then, without giving further answer than a short nod, he strode out of the drawing-room, and his mother moved to the window to see, a few minutes after, a handsome pair of high-stepping horses driven up from where the groom was waiting, her son get in, and the stylish phaeton dash off at a rapid rate. " Ha ! " she said softly, " I did not think he would take it so well. Terribly plebeian ; but she is very sweet, and it will be our salvation," After which Lady Braetoun picked up the scent-laden handkerchief her son had tossed off his forehead, and seated herself on the nearest couch, looking, with her grey hair and stately bearing, quite the patrician mother, smiling, placid, and content, in the satisfaction of what she looked upon as a good Sunday morning's work.

Chapter II. Playing With Fire

Roderick, Lord Braetoun's appointment was in the Strand, for he drew up at a well-known restaurant, gave the reins to the groom, and upon entering walked through at once to the inner room, where, at a table in a corner, a particularly striking little figure was seated, and rose eagerly as he appeared. " Oh, Rod, dear, I was getting in such a fidget." " What about, Baby ? " " I thought you didn't mean to come, but it's all right now." " Didn't mean to come ! Didn't I say I'd come ? " he cried pettishly. " Yes, and I ought to have known, but I am so stupid. I've ordered the lunch, so as to be ready, for I do so want to go — omelette, sweetbread, cutlet, and a bottle of dry." " Humph ! That's right," said Braetoun, seating himself and gazing rather wistfully at the piquant little figure in pale blue and a gauzy diaphanous bonnet, with quite enough lace here and there to give the wearer a fairy-like — theatrically fairy-like — aspect.

Her face was covered by a delicate veil, which needlessly softened a perfect complexion, and half hid her fair, clustering golden hair, whose tint gave the lie to any suspicion of aureoline or any other coiffeur's preparation. In short, she bore careful inspection, and the most particular in taste would have declared Lucy Lee, known as " Baby," late of the chorus of the Theatre Royal Thespis, to be absolutely the most charming little blonde upon whom eyes had ever rested. " Oh, what a serious look," she said, as she began to take off her gloves and display a pair of the prettiest hands possible, and then to remove her veil, which was lightly tied on behind, this last process helping to explain the sobriquet by which she was known, for baby like dimples played about in cheeks and chin, and again at the knuckles, or where the knuckles should have shown in her soft, white, little hands.

" Not cross are you, Roddy, dear ? " " Cross ? No. Tired ; and got a horrible head on." " Oh, poor, dear, darling old man ! " she cooed. " Only wait till we're down in the country, and that ogre of a groom isn't looking, and I'll kiss the poor, aching place. Mustn't kiss it here, dear, must I ? " " Don't be a little fool," he said sourly. " Oh, here's the cham.," as the waiter came up, carrying an ice-pail. " Yes : open it." The cork was dexterously sent flying, the pale pinky amber wine poured foaming out from glass to glass till each was filled, without a bead running over the side. Then, as the waiter hurried off for the first dish, the glasses were raised, there was a long, silent look, and a moustache dipped in one, a pair of ruddy lips touched the other, to take a few sips at the same time that the masculine vessel was drained.

" Poor thirsty old boy ! I am so sorry that the head's bad." " Hah ! It'll be better now," said Braetoun ; and his face lit up a little as he gazed approvingly at his com panion's costume. " That's capital, Baby." " Do you like it, dear ? " and as he nodded she added with childlike delight : " Oh, I'm so glad." " It all suits you perfectly. Ah, you're a horribly pretty little thing." " Horribly ! " she said, with a pout of her rosy lips. " What a shame ! " " Well, you can't help it, pet," he continued, half mockingly ; " but you really are a puzzle to me." " Puzzle ? Why ? " " Because you ought to have been the daughter of some big pair of blue-blooded swells, instead of a horse-dealer's daughter. How did you come ? — hansom ? " " No, in the brougham, of course. I wasn't going to let that lazy fellow have nothing to do on a Sunday.

He gets dreadfully idle and impudent. There, it's only about one o'clock now, and he'll have nothing else to do all day. He don't know what work is. He ought to have been on the stage. — I say, how funny and quiet this place looks on a Sunday." " Humph ! yes ; very. Go on ; you're not eating." " I'm not hungry, dear ; I want to get out in the country. It seems a shame not to make haste. We can eat at any time." " Yes, of course. Well, don't be impatient." " All right ; and you must eat, dear. Is your head getting better ? " " Yes. Sight of you has done me good." " I wish that was quite true, Rod," she said, resting her elbows on the table, laying her little white chin in her hands and gazing at him earnestly with her dark grey eyes. " Well, so it is," he retorted. " No, only a compliment ; but it is true with me."

"I say: 'bilbows,' little lady." " Oh, I forgot," she said, colouring like a detected child, as she hastily removed her elbows from the table. " But it's of no use, Rod. I'm not a lady, and I never shall be one. But so long as you don't mind, it doesn't matter, does it ? " " Not a bit," he said. " Come, have some more wine." " No ; I haven't drunk this, dear." " Never mind ; I'll freshen it up. Make your eyes sparkle, Baby." She smiled and held her glass, sipping from it after it had been refilled, but it did not have the effect he declared, for the pretty eyes grew slightly dim and suffused. But they began to sparkle soon after, when their owner was seated beside Braetoun in the phaeton and the horses trotted west. At Hyde Park Corner they were checked, and, as if already tutored, the groom stepped down from behind.

" Seven o'clock, my lord ? " he said. " Half-past." The horses darted off again, and they were not checked till well beyond Esher, at the bottom of a very retired mossy lane, deep in woodlands. Rein was drawn at the gateway leading to a low thatched farmhouse, half hidden in ivy and other creepers. At the sound of wheels a weasely-looking thin man, with the face and form of a boy, came trotting down, and pulled offhis stableman's cap as he ducked down his head. "Day, Sam." " Day, m'lord ; day, m'lady." " How's the mare ? " " Splendid, m'lord ; never see anything like her." " Humph, where's your father ? " " Hout, m'lord." " Eh ? Out ? " said Braetoun sharply. " Where's he gone? " " Dunno, m'lord. Hout with the old woman. Chutch, p'r'aps." " Church ! " said Braetoun scornfully, as he drew up by the garden.

" Here, take the horses out, and give them a good rub down and feed. As soon as that's done saddle the mare, and bring her into the field." " Yes, m'lord," said the little groom obsequiously ; and he hurried off muttering to himself, while his master strolled across an inclosure, through agate, and into what in days gone by had been the home field of the farm, an extensive tract of some thirty acres, shut in by trees, and, having just recovered from the late mowing, whose result was shown in a couple of goodly stacks, now stretched out in a beautiful green lawn, over which the rooks were sailing, their hoarse cries made musical by mellowing distance. " Oh, look at the flowers, the dear old buttercups and daisies ! " cried the girl ; and in a few minutes her delicate white gloves were stained with green, as she kept on picking till she had quite a bunch.

" What a little goose it is ! " said Braetoun with a smile full of contempt. " Wish you'd be content with them always, instead of orchids and stephanotis." " Well, so I should be, if I could pick them for myself. Oh, I say, Rod, it's just like being at home again. It is so beautiful. How nice it all smells ! " " This will smell nicer," said the young man, taking out and lighting a cigar. " Wonder how long that idiot will be ! I wanted to talk to his confounded father about the mare." "Why didn't we go to the stables and see the dear ? " " Because you haven't got on your stable suit, you extravagant puss. Look at your gloves." " Oh dear, what a mess I Never mind ; you'll buy me another pair, dear.— I should like to lie down in the grass and roll." " If you do, I won't drive you home. Look here, Baby, you were never meant for a lady, but for a South Sea island savage, where the young ladies wear nothing but flowers.

You'd be quite at home there." " For shame, Rod ! Well, let's go there. I should like it : I'm so tired of London. Who'd go gravel grinding in the Park when they could come here ? Hi — loo — loo — loo — loo ! There goes a rabbit ! " " Be quiet, you little savage ! " cried Braetoun, laughing. " Come, walk about properly. Suppose anyone saw you." " But there is no one to see us here, Rod ; that's why I like it. Seems like being Adam and Eve in the Garden." " Oh, does it ? Well, perhaps so, for that scoundrel Vinnis plays the devil here." " Don't be cross, Rod, and do let's enjoy ourselves now we've come." " All right, go on then ; but you don't expect me to begin picking buttercups and daisies, do you ? " The girl made no reply, but darted at the globular head of a dandelion flower in seed, picked it, and then, pouting out her lips, began to puff at it to see in how many breaths she could send the winged germs flying.

" Look at that," she cried ; " it's just like it used to be when I was a good little girl." "What!" cried Braetoun, with a boisterous laugh; " why, you were never a good little girl in your life." " That I was, till father and mother died, and I came up to nasty old London, and Aunt Duncan. She's a dear good old thing, but I don't think— I don't think — " " What don't you think, Baby ? " "Look : here comes Bella," cried the girl excitedly, as the groom rode through the gate, mounted upon a satin coated mare which touched the sward so lightly that she seemed to be gliding along on air. " Oh, you darling : how I do love you ! " " Nice she-devil to love, 'pon my soul ! " " For shame, sir ! She's only wicked to you men, and you deserve it. See how gentle she is with me." Proof positive was given the next moment, for, as the groom rode up, Lord Braetoun raised his hand to pat the animal's glossy neck, when she stopped short, uttered a low, squealing cry, and made a dog-like snap at his hand.

" Ah, you beast ! " he cried fiercely. " Don't, don't," said she girl. " It's only her play. Look here." " Keep back ; she'll savage you," cried Braetoun. " Not she. — You wouldn't hurt me, would you, Bella, you beauty ? " said the girl, going close up to the mare, which sniffed at the flowers and then suffered herself to be patted and caressed, the girl ending by drawing down the animal's muzzle and then kissing her between the eyes. " That will do," said Braetoun impatiently. " She isn't a lap-dog, Baby. Now, Sam, give her a canter," The sinister-looking lad pulled his cap down tightly, gathered up the reins, and pressed the mare's sides with his legs, when she shook her head violently, sidled, arched her back, and uttered a low, whinnying sound. " Quiet ! " cried the lad harshly, and, after making two or three bounds, she went off at an elastic canter towards the trees, and then down by the side of the hedge towards the lower part of the great field.