“Do you expect me to override my uncle, Moffat?” asked the Duke, smiling, and drawing up his chair to the table. “I am not in the saddle until the spring, you know! What is it? Roofs again?”
“No, your Grace. Just one or two little matters!” replied Moffat, preparing to expound at length.
The Duke resigned himself, and bent his mind to the problems laid before him. They seemed none of them to be very pressing, and he was obliged to stifle several yawns before Moffat jerked him out of his boredom by saying, with a little hesitation: “The only other thing, your Grace, is young Mudgley’s affair, and I own I should be very glad if you would condescend to—”
“What?” exclaimed the Duke, starting up in his chair.
The bailiff was slightly alarmed. “I’m sure I beg your Grace’s pardon, if I’ve done wrong to bring the matter up!” he faltered.
“Did you say Mudgley?”demanded the Duke sharply.
“Why, yes, your Grace, but indeed I would never—”
“Don’t tell me the man is one of my tenants!”
“Well, your Grace, he is, and then again he isn’t!” said Moffat, looking at him in considerable perturbation.
The Duke dropped his head in his hands. “And I have been hunting high and low for the confounded fellow! Of course, if he lives near Cheyney, his letters must all go to Bristol, not here! No wonder I could discover no trace of him! Good God, and I very nearly said I would not see you!”
“Hunting high and low for young Mudgley, your Grace?” said Moffat, in a stupefied voice. “But—but does your Grace wish to see him?”
“Yes, I tell you! I have come all the way from Hertfordshire for no other purpose!”
Moffat stared at him in great misgiving. “I beg pardon, but—but is your Grace feeling quite well?” he asked, concerned.
The Duke began to laugh. “No, no, I haven’t run mad, I assure you! I can’t explain it all now, but I have most urgent need of the man! Where does he live? You said he was one of my tenants.”
“Not exactly, I didn’t, your Grace. He’s a freeholder, but he rents the Five-acre field from your Grace. It was on account of that I was wishful to speak to your Grace.”
“Where’s the Five-acre field?”
“If you will allow me,” said Moffat, spreading open a map upon the table, “I will show your Grace. Now, it’s right here that Mudgley’s farm lies, hard by Willsbridge.”
“But I don’t own any land west of the river, do I?” objected the Duke, looking at the map.
“Well, that’s just it, your Grace. It isn’t part of the estate and never has been. It came into the family when your Grace’s grandfather acquired it. They do say that he won it at play, but I don’t know how that may be. There was a tidy bit of it when I was a boy, but your Grace’s father, he never set much store by it, and it was cut up, Sir John Marple buying the house, and the demesne, and the rest going piecemeal, all but a few fields and such, of which the Five-acre is one.” He paused, and glanced deprecatingly at the Duke. “If it had been part of Cheyney, I ask your Grace to believe I wouldn’t have thought of such a thing, let alone have mentioned it]”
“But what is it that you want?” asked the Duke.
“It’s young Jasper Mudgley as wants it, your Grace!” said Moffat desperately. “Maybe I shouldn’t be speaking to you of it, seeing that Mr. Scriven won’t hear of letting it go, nor his lordship either, by what Mr. Scriven writes to me, the both of them setting their faces against selling any of your Grace’s land, as is right and proper. But young Mudgley’s father and me was boys together, and I’ve always kept an eye over Jasper, as you might say, since his father was taken. He’s a good lad, your Grace, and the way he’s worked his farm up is wonderful, and things not always easy for him. But he’s by way of being a warm man now, and he’d beright glad to buy the Five-acre off of your Grace, if you’d be willing to sell it. I told him my lord wouldn’t hear of it, but it seemed to me as I might venture just to mention the matter to you.”
“Of course! You did just as you should!” said the Duke enthusiastically. “Only tell me one thing, Moffat! Is he married, or single?”
“Single, your Grace. He lives with his mother, him being her only one.”
“The Five-acre shall be his bride’s dowry!” said the Duke, rolling up the map, and handing it to the astonished bailiff.
“But, your Grace, he’s got no thought of marriage!” protested Moffat.
“Then I must put one into his head,” said the Duke.
“Your Grace won’t do that, by what Jane Mudgley was telling me,” said Moffat. “Seemingly, there was a wench in Bath he fell head over ears in love with back in the spring, but she went off somewhere unbeknownst, and he doesn’t seem to be able to put her out of his mind. Not but what she didn’t sound to me the kind of wench I’d have chosen for a steady young fellow like Jasper.”
“She is the bride I have chosen for him!” said the Duke, his eyes dancing. “Does his mother dislike it excessively? I imagine she might! Do you think I can persuade her to accept the girl? Perhaps I had best see her before I take Belinda to her,”
“But—but—” stammered Moffat.
“That was why I wanted to find Mudgley!” explained the Duke. “The girl is under my care, and I have promised that I will find him for her. You may take me out to the farm. How did you come into Bath?”
“I rode in, your Grace. But—”
“Very welclass="underline" only give me time to change my dress, and I will ride back with you! Francis must find me a horse! Sit down, Moffat: I shall not keep you waiting many minutes!”
“Your Grace!” Moffat, looking extremely worried, made a detaining gesture.
“Yes, what is it?” the Duke said impatiently.
“Your Grace, I don’t know how to say it—and I beg your Grace’s pardon for what may offend you! But I know young Mudgley, and—and he wouldn’t—not for a moment!—he wouldn’t be agreeable to—to—”
The Duke’s puzzled frown vanished. “He wouldn’t take my leavings, eh? Excellent fellow! No, no, Moffat, it’s nothing of the sort, I promise you! She is staying in Bath under Lady Harriet Presteigne’s protection. I do hope Mudgley will believe me! Is he a fine, lusty fellow? Well, I shall depend upon you to guard me from his vengeance, if he doesn’t believe me!”
He vanished leaving his bailiff to start after him in great perplexity.
Nettlebed, upon being summoned to lay out his master’s riding-breeches and coat, demurred at once. He said that his Grace would be quite knocked-up with all this dashing about the country, and a ball on the top of it.
“Help me out of this coat!” ordered the Duke.
“Now, your Grace, do but listen to reason!” begged Nettlebed.
“Nettlebed, do you wish me to run away from you again?” demanded the Duke.
“No, no, you wouldn’t do that, your Grace!” said Nettlebed, quailing.
“That, or engage a new valet,” said the Duke inexorably.
This terrible threat utterly subjugated Nettlebed, and in almost trembling haste he helped to array his master in his riding-dress.
“I am not in the least fatigued,” said the Duke, straightening his cravat.