I'll follow her. Bring those two pair out here for a crown a man.
Wake up, some of you!"
"You will not desert this lady we are in search of; you will not abandon her on such a night and in such a state of mind as I know her to be in!" said I, in an agony, and grasping his hand.
"You are right, my dear, I won't.
But I'll follow the other. Look alive here with them horses.
Send a man for'ard in the saddle to the next stage, and let him send another for'ard again, and order four on, up, right through. My darling, don't you be afraid!"
These orders and the way in which he ran about the yard urging them caused a general excitement that was scarcely less bewildering to me than the sudden change.
But in the height of the confusion, a mounted man galloped away to order the relays, and our horses were put to with great speed.
"My dear," said Mr. Bucket, jumping to his seat and looking in again, "--you'll excuse me if I'm too familiar--don't you fret and worry yourself no more than you can help.
I say nothing else at present; but you know me, my dear; now, don't you?"
I endeavoured to say that I knew he was far more capable than I of deciding what we ought to do, but was he sure that this was right?
Could I not go forward by myself in search of--I grasped his hand again in my distress and whispered it to him--of my own mother.
"My dear," he answered, "I know, I know, and would I put you wrong, do you think?
Inspector Bucket.
Now you know me, don't you?"
What could I say but yes!
"Then you keep up as good a heart as you can, and you rely upon me for standing by you, no less than by Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet. Now, are you right there?"
"All right, sir!"
"Off she goes, then.
And get on, my lads!"
We were again upon the melancholy road by which we had come, tearing up the miry sleet and thawing snow as if they were torn up by a waterwheel.
CHAPTER LVIII
A Wintry Day and Night
Still impassive, as behoves its breeding, the Dedlock town house carries itself as usual towards the street of dismal grandeur.
There are powdered heads from time to time in the little windows of the hall, looking out at the untaxed powder falling all day from the sky; and in the same conservatory there is peach blossom turning itself exotically to the great hall fire from the nipping weather out of doors.
It is given out that my Lady has gone down into Lincolnshire, but is expected to return presently.
Rumour, busy overmuch, however, will not go down into Lincolnshire.
It persists in flitting and chattering about town.
It knows that that poor unfortunate man, Sir Leicester, has been sadly used.
It hears, my dear child, all sorts of shocking things.
It makes the world of five miles round quite merry.
Not to know that there is something wrong at the Dedlocks' is to augur yourself unknown.
One of the peachy-cheeked charmers with the skeleton throats is already apprised of all the principal circumstances that will come out before the Lords on Sir Leicester's application for a bill of divorce.
At Blaze and Sparkle's the jewellers and at Sheen and Gloss's the mercers, it is and will be for several hours the topic of the age, the feature of the century.
The patronesses of those establishments, albeit so loftily inscrutable, being as nicely weighed and measured there as any other article of the stock-in-trade, are perfectly understood in this new fashion by the rawest hand behind the counter.
"Our people, Mr. Jones," said Blaze and Sparkle to the hand in question on engaging him, "our people, sir, are sheep--mere sheep.
Where two or three marked ones go, all the rest follow.
Keep those two or three in your eye, Mr. Jones, and you have the flock."
So, likewise, Sheen and Gloss to THEIR Jones, in reference to knowing where to have the fashionable people and how to bring what they (Sheen and Gloss) choose into fashion.
On similar unerring principles, Mr. Sladdery the librarian, and indeed the great farmer of gorgeous sheep, admits this very day,
"Why yes, sir, there certainly ARE reports concerning Lady Dedlock, very current indeed among my high connexion, sir.
You see, my high connexion must talk about something, sir; and it's only to get a subject into vogue with one or two ladies I could name to make it go down with the whole.
Just what I should have done with those ladies, sir, in the case of any novelty you had left to me to bring in, they have done of themselves in this case through knowing Lady Dedlock and being perhaps a little innocently jealous of her too, sir.
You'll find, sir, that this topic will be very popular among my high connexion.
If it had been a speculation, sir, it would have brought money.
And when I say so, you may trust to my being right, sir, for I have made it my business to study my high connexion and to be able to wind it up like a clock, sir."
Thus rumour thrives in the capital, and will not go down into Lincolnshire.
By half-past five, post meridian, Horse Guards' time, it has even elicited a new remark from the Honourable Mr. Stables, which bids fair to outshine the old one, on which he has so long rested his colloquial reputation.
This sparkling sally is to the effect that although he always knew she was the best-groomed woman in the stud, he had no idea she was a bolter.
It is immensely received in turf-circles.