Arabella Read online

  ‘Two years!’ cried Arabella, sickened by the tale of cruelty so casually unfolded. ‘If he had stolen a yard of silk from a mercer’s factory they would have deported him!’

  Jemmy was not in a position to deny or to corroborate this statement, and preserved a wary silence. He saw that the young lady was very angry, and although her wrath did not seem to be directed against himself his experience had taught him to run no unnecessary risks of being suddenly knocked flying against the wall. He shrank into the corner of the chair therefore, and clutched the shawl more tightly round his person.

  A discreet knock fell on the door, and a slightly flustered and considerably startled housemaid entered the room. ‘Was it you rang, miss?’ she asked, in astonished accents. Then her eye alighted on Arabella’s visitor, and she uttered a genteel shriek. ‘Oh, miss! What a turn it gave me! The young varmint to give you such a fright! It’s the chimney-sweep’s boy, miss, and him looking for him all over! You come with me this instant, you wicked boy, you!’

  Jemmy, recognising a language he understood, whined that he had not meant to do it.

  ‘Hush!’ Arabella said, dropping her hand on one bony little shoulder. ‘I know very well it is the sweep’s boy, Maria, and if you look at him you will see how he has been used! Go downstairs, if you please, and fetch me some food for him directly – and send someone up to kindle the fire here!’

  Maria stared at her as though she thought she had taken leave of her senses. ‘Miss!’ she managed to ejaculate. ‘A dirty little climbing-boy?’

  ‘When he has been bathed,’ said Arabella quietly, ‘he will not be dirty. I shall need plenty of warm water, and the bath, if you please. But first a fire, and some milk and food for the poor child!’

  The affronted handmaid bridled. ‘I hope, miss, you do not expect me to wash that nasty little creature! I’m sure I don’t know what her ladyship would say to such goings-on!’

  ‘No,’ said Arabella, ‘I expect nothing from you that I might expect from a girl with a more feeling heart than yours! Go and do what I have asked you to do, and desire Becky to come upstairs to me!’

  ‘Becky?’ gasped Maria.

  ‘Yes, the girl who had the toothache. And when you have brought up food – some bread-and-butter, and some meat will do very well, but do not forget the milk! – you may send someone to tell Lord Bridlington that I wish to see him at once.’

  Maria gulped, and stammered: ‘But, miss, his lordship is abed and asleep!’

  ‘Well, let him be wakened!’ said Arabella impatiently.

  ‘Miss, I dare not for my life! His orders were no one wasn’t to disturb him till nine o’clock, and he won’t come, not till he has shaved himself, and dressed, not his lordship!’

  Arabella considered the question, and finally came to the conclusion that it might be wiser to dispense with his lordship’s assistance for the time being. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I will dress immediately, then, and see the sweep myself. Tell him to wait!’

  ‘See the sweep – dress – Miss, you won’t never! With that boy watching you!’ exclaimed the scandalised Maria.

  ‘Don’t be such a fool, girl!’ snapped Arabella, stamping her foot. ‘He’s scarcely older than my little brother at home! Go away before you put me out of all patience with you!’

  This, however, Maria could not be persuaded to do until she had arranged a prim screen between the wondering Jemmy and his hostess. She then tottered away to spread the news through the house that Miss was raving mad, and likely to be taken off to Bedlam that very day. But since she did not dare to thwart a guest so much petted by her mistress, she delivered Arabella’s message to Becky, and condescended to carry up a tray of food to her room.

  Jemmy, still huddled in the big chair, was bewildered by the unprecedented turn of events, and understood nothing of what was intended towards him. But he perfectly understood the significance of a plate of cold beef, and half a loaf of bread, and his sharp eyes glistened. Arabella, who had flung on her clothes at random, and done up her hair in a careless knot, settled him down to the enjoyment of his meal, and sallied forth to do battle with the redoubtable Mr Grimsby, uneasily awaiting her in the front hall.

  The scene, conducted under the open-mouthed stare of a footman in his shirt-sleeves, two astonished and giggling maids, and the kitchen-boy, was worthy of a better audience. Mr Beaumaris, for instance, would have enjoyed it immensely. Mr Grimsby, knowing that the sympathies of those members of the household he had so far encountered were with him, and seeing that his assailant was only a chit of a girl, tried at the outset to take a high line, rapidly cataloguing Jemmy’s many vices, and adjuring Arabella not to believe a word the varmint uttered. He soon discovered that what Arabella lacked in inches she more than made up for in spirit. She tore his character to shreds and warned him of his ultimate fate; she flung Jemmy’s burns and bruises in his face, and bade him answer her if he dared. He did not dare. She assured him that never would she permit Jemmy to go back to him, and when he tried to point out his undoubted rights over the boy she looked so fierce that he backed before her. She said that if he wished to talk of his rights he might do so before a magistrate, and at these ominous words all vestige of fight went out of him. The misfortune which had overtaken his friend, Mr Molys, was still fresh in his mind, and he desired to have no dealings with an unjust Law. There was no doubt that a young lady living in a house of this style would have those at her back who could, if she urged them to it, make things very unpleasant for a poor chimney-sweep. The course for a prudent man to follow was retreat: climbing-boys were easily come by, and Jemmy had never been a success. Mr Grimsby, his back bent nearly double, edged himself out of the house, trying to assure Arabella in one breath that she might keep Jemmy and welcome, and that, whatever the ungrateful brat might say, he had been like a father to him.

  Flushed with her triumph, Arabella returned to her room, where she found Jemmy, the plate of meat long since disposed of, eyeing with a good deal of apprehension the preparations for his ablutions. A capacious hip-bath stood before the fire, into which Becky was emptying the last of three large brass cans of hot water. Whatever Becky might think of climbing-boys, she had conceived a slavish adoration of Arabella, and she declared her willingness to do anything Miss might require of her.

  ‘First,’ said Arabella briskly, ‘I must wash him, and put basilicum ointment on his poor little feet and legs. Then I must get him some clothes to wear. Becky, do you know where to procure suitable clothes for a child in London?’

  Becky nodded vigorously, twisting her apron between her fingers. She ventured to say that she had sent home a suit for her brother Ben which Mother had been ever so pleased with.

  ‘Have you little brothers? Then you will know just what to buy for this child!’ Arabella said. ‘A warm jacket, and some smalls, and a shirt – oh, and some shoes and stockings! Wait! I will give you the money, and you shall go and procure the things immediately!’

  ‘If you please, miss,’ said Becky firmly, ‘I think I ought to help you wash him first.’ She added sapiently: ‘Likely he’ll struggle, miss – not being used to it.’

  She was quite right. Jemmy fought like a tiger to defend his person from the intended rape, and was deaf alike to coaxings and to reassurances. But the two damsels before him had not helped to bring up their respective young brothers for nothing. They stripped Jemmy of his rags, heedless of his sobs and his protests, and they dumped him, wildly kicking, in the bath, and ruthlessly washed every inch of his emaciated small person.

  It was not to be expected that Jemmy’s howls would not be heard beyond the confines of the room. They were lusty, and they penetrated to Lady Bridlington’s ears. It was inconceivable to the good lady that they could really be emanating from within her house, as they seemed to be, and she was just about to ring her bell, and desire Clara Crowle to send away whatever child it was who was screaming in the street, w