The Castle Inn - Page 445/559

At dinner the tutor's fears were temporarily lulled. Mr. Pomeroy put in

a sulky appearance, but his gloom, it was presently manifest, was due to

the burden of an apology; which, being lamely offered and readily

accepted, he relapsed into his ordinary brusque and reckless mood,

swearing that they would have the lady down and drink her, or if that

were not pleasing, 'Damme, we'll drink her any way!' he continued. 'I

was a toad this morning. No offence meant, my lord. Lover's license, you

know. You can afford to be generous, having won the pool.' 'And the maid,' my lord said with a simper. 'Burn me! you are a good

fellow, Pom. Give me your hand. You shall see her after dinner. She said

to-morrow; but, hang me! I'll to her this evening.' Mr. Pomeroy expressed himself properly gratified, adding demurely that

he would play no tricks.

'No, hang me! no tricks!' my lord cried somewhat alarmed. 'Not that--' 'Not that I am likely to displace your lordship, her affections once

gained,' said Mr. Pomeroy.

He lowered his face to hide a smile of bitter derision, but he might

have spared his pains; for Lord Almeric, never very wise, was blinded by

vanity. 'No, I should think not,' he said, with a conceit which came

near to deserving the other's contempt. 'I should think not, Tommy. Give

me twenty minutes of a start, as Jack Wilkes says, and you may follow as

you please. I rather fancy I brought down the bird at the first shot?' 'Certainly, my lord.' 'I did, didn't I?' 'Most certainly, your lordship did,' repeated the obsequious tutor;

who, basking in the smiles of his host's good-humour, began to think

that things would run smoothly after all. So the lady was toasted, and

toasted again. Nay, so great was Mr. Pomeroy's complaisance and so easy

his mood, he must needs have up three or four bottles of Brooks and

Hellier that had lain in the cellar half a century--the last of a

batch--and give her a third time in bumpers and no heel-taps.

But that opened Mr. Thomasson's eyes. He saw that Pomeroy had reverted

to his idea of the night before, and was bent on making the young fop

drunk, and exposing him in that state to his mistress; perhaps had the

notion of pushing him on some rudeness that, unless she proved very

compliant indeed, must ruin him for ever with her. Three was their

dinner hour; it was not yet four, yet already the young lord was flushed

and a little flustered, talked fast, swore at Jarvey, and bragged of the

girl lightly and without reserve. By six o'clock, if something were not

done, he would be unmanageable.