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Chapter Eight

Return Home – Christmas Festivities – How they were interrupted – The Heir of Bloxholme missing – Dame Marlow’s Revenge – Arthur Haviland goes in Search of his Friend

There were great rejoicings when just before Christmas time Digby’s jovial, smiling, and sunburnt countenance beamed forth in the hall of Bloxholme. How pleased were his father and mother to see him – how delighted Kate was – how fondly she kissed him, and how eagerly she asked him, as soon as he could, to come and tell her about everything. Gusty shouted and cheered as if some great event had occurred – so it had to him – for one of the most important personages he had ever known, had just returned, after a long absence, to the home of his ancestors. John Pratt came to the door, hat in hand, grinning all over with glee, and eagerly helped the coachman to unstrap Digby’s trunk and play-box. Alesbury, the butler, looked benignly at him – “Glad to see you, Master Digby, very glad, that I am,” he exclaimed, in his usual well-bred undertone; “so grown too, you are. Well, we’ve all sorts of things ready for the holidays – very glad to see you, very.” Mrs Carter hurried out of the housekeeper’s room to welcome him, and after shaking hands and looking at him proudly for a minute, she gave way to the feelings of her heart, and seizing him in her arms, covered his cheeks with kisses. Nurse treated him much in the same way. He was too happy to resent the indignity, though he did rub his cheeks pretty hard afterwards with his handkerchief, when they were not looking. His two elder sisters were out riding when he arrived. When they came back they gave him as hearty a welcome as the rest of the family. Miss Apsley, too, in her quiet ladylike way, expressed her pleasure at seeing him. Her discernment enabled her to discover that he possessed many qualities which, if properly directed, would make him both generally liked, and a useful member of society. She liked him because she thought that he was an honest true-hearted, English boy.

Digby had good reason, therefore, to be satisfied with the reception he met with from every member of the family after this his first absence from home. So he was, and he felt that he was a very happy fellow. Still more full of glee was he, when he at length having been sufficiently looked at, and talked to, and cross questioned, and kissed, and hugged, and fed, found himself running through the grounds, with Kate by his side, towards their favourite resort, the summer-house on the mound.

It was a bright clear day, and though the air was cold, the sun striking through the glass windows for several hours made the room warm and pleasant. Then looking out together at the view, which, even in winter, was beautiful, Digby told Kate of all that had happened him at Mr Nugent’s. How she did laugh at the idea of firing off the old guns at the Castle, though she very nearly cried with horror when he described how they had burst, and how narrowly he and Julian had escaped being killed.

Digby touched very lightly on Julian’s behaviour, but he could not help saying enough to make Kate exclaim —

“Oh, I hate him! – mean-spirited, disagreeable boy. I hope papa will not ask him here again. I never liked him – I did not know why – now I guess the reason.”

Kate then told Digby that all sorts of preparations had been made for his amusement during the holidays, and that several people, young and old, had been invited to come to the house.

“And who do you think is among them?” she asked. “Somebody you will be very glad to see, and whom I never saw. I begged that I might be the first to tell you, because I know that it will give you so much pleasure.”

Digby guessed all sorts of people, but gave it up at last. Perhaps he knew how much Kate would like to tell him.

“Then I won’t leave you longer in doubt,” she exclaimed, eagerly. “Arthur Haviland is coming.”

“You don’t say so,” said Digby, clapping his hands. “How very jolly.”

“Yes, he is, though,” cried Kate. “Papa, it seems, knew Mr Haviland, who wrote to him about your having helped to pull Arthur out of the sea, and then they found that they were old friends, and so it was arranged that Arthur should come here for your holidays. Who else do you suppose is coming? I’ll tell you, as you are not in a guessing mood to-day. Cousin Giles. We could not get on this Christmas without him, I’m sure. He’ll manage everything. He’ll direct all our games in the evening, and settle about all the sports in the morning for you boys. We were quite anxious till we knew that he would come; now I am certain that everything will go smoothly.”

“Capital! how jolly!” exclaimed Digby.

Everything which promised to be pleasant was jolly with him. If he had been asked what was the most jolly thing in existence, he would have answered – his sister Kate.

Cousin Giles and Arthur Haviland were to arrive the very next day, and several other people who had sons with them were coming before New-year’s-day, so that the house would be full from the top to the bottom.

Kate had another surprise for Digby. After they had had their confabulation, and the sinking sun warned them that it was time to return home, she led him round the back way, under pretence of showing him the dogs and some young pups Juno had produced. By chance, it appeared, as she passed the stables, she threw open the door, and there stood John Pratt, grinning with pleasure, and holding by the head a beautiful little pony, with a new bridle and saddle on.

“Oh Kate, how kind, how delightful, how jolly!” exclaimed Digby. “Is that really for me? What a beauty. What grand gallops I’ll have on him, and go out with you on your Tiny. It is of all things just what I should have liked the best, if I had been asked. What is his name? I hope that it is a pretty one.”

“Guess,” said Kate, who, although Digby never had guessed anything in his life, always persisted in making him try and do so.

“Oh, I can’t! Angel, or Fairy, or Beauty, or something of that sort,” he answered.

“You burn, you burn – something very nice,” cried Kate. “Well, then, if you give it up I’ll tell you – Sweetlips. We didn’t give him the name. It was what he was called by the person from whom papa bought him, but as he knows it, and will follow like a dog when he is called, we did not like to change it.”

“It’s a funny name for a pony, but as he has got it, we will still call him by it, and I shall like it very much,” answered Digby. “But I say, John Pratt, can’t I have a gallop on him at once across the park? I won’t be ten minutes away, and it would be so delightful.”

“I sees no reason again it, Master Digby,” replied John; “I thought as how you’d be liking it, and so I put the new saddle on him, which the Squire sent and made me buy for you.”

“Says he, ‘John, our Digby will be coming to cover with me, to see the hounds throw off, and he’ll be by my side I hope when I go a coursing; and I wish him to appear as my son should appear, John.’ This was afore we bought the pony. I heard of it, and I was certain that it would just do, so the Squire told me to go and settle for it at once, and not to stand on price, and right glad I was when I brought back Master Sweetlips; and says the Squire, ‘I never saw a greater beauty in my life, John. He’ll just do for our boy. Now go and buy a new saddle and bridle to fit him. You can judge of what it ought to be just as well as I can.’ Wasn’t I proud; and so, Master Digby, here he is, all your own. And here’s a new whip I bought at the same time. The Squire didn’t tell me to get that, but if you’ll accept it from an old man, you’ll make his heart right glad.”

“Oh, thank you, John – thank you, John Pratt,” exclaimed Digby, his heart so swelling with kindly and grateful feelings that the tears almost came into his eyes. “You run in, Kate, and say I’ll be back directly, but I must have a gallop on Sweetlips.”

John had been assisting him to mount, and adjusting his stirrups all the time. Away trotted the young heir of Bloxholme, and truly he looked the worthy scion of a sturdy race. John Pratt stood outside the yard gate, watching him with admiration, and Kate remained on the upper step of the hall-door, gazing at him with affectionate interest, till he was lost to sight among the trees, and the sound of his pony’s hoofs died away in the distance.

“He is a dear fellow!” she exclaimed, as at length she entered the house, and ran up stairs to prepare for dinner. She was to dine late that day in honour of Digby’s arrival. She anticipated a delightful evening. He would have so much to tell her, so much to talk about – she felt so proud of him. He looked so well – so manly, she thought, and was so much improved in every way. Kate dressed and came down to the drawing-room long before dinner-time, that she might have another talk with Digby. He had not made his appearance, so she sat down and took up a book, thinking that he would come soon. Miss Apsley appeared next. Kate remarked that she thought Digby was a long time dressing for dinner. She ran up to his room, but he was not there. When she came back, expecting to find that he had in the mean time come to the drawing-room, she felt blank at not seeing him.

“He probably is with your papa or mamma, dear,” observed the governess; “it is scarcely fair to wish to monopolise his society.”

“No, I will not; of course everybody will wish to speak to him,” said Kate, and she resumed her book.

In a few minutes, however, she laid it down again.

“It is very odd that he does not come,” exclaimed Kate; “I must go and find him.”

She ran again to his room. His evening clothes and shoes were put out, the hot-water jug was on his wash-hand stand untouched, and his hair-brushes were in order on the dressing-table. He evidently had not been there to dress. She ran to her father’s room, and then to her mother’s and sisters’, but he was not with them.

“Then he must be with Mrs Carter,” she said to herself, and away she ran to the housekeeper’s room, but Mrs Carter had not seen him nor was he in the nursery.

She was in hopes that he might have gone to play with Gusty before he went to bed. Coming back she met Alesbury, and begged him to send to the stables to ascertain if Digby was still there. Hoping that her brother might have gone into the drawing-room during her absence, she returned there. Her father was standing before the fire, her mother and sisters were sitting down on sofas and comfortable chairs, attempting to snatch a few minutes light reading in that generally very idle portion of the day.

“Kate, where is Digby?” asked her father, as she entered.

“I have been looking for him, papa, but I cannot find him,” she answered.

“He has forgotten the dinner-hour, and is still renewing his acquaintance with the horses and dogs,” said the Squire, adjusting his cravat.

He poked the fire, turned himself about before it once or twice, and then took up the newspaper. While thus occupied, the footman abruptly entered the room with a startled expression: —

“Mr Alesbury sent me out to the stable to bring in Master Digby, sir,” he exclaimed in a hurried tone; “I went, sir, but neither John Pratt nor any of the men could I see; and while I was there the new pony came trotting in by himself with the reins hanging over his head.”

“What is this, what is this I hear?” cried Mr Heathcote, in a state of great agitation, running to the hall-door.

He was going out, he scarcely knew where, when Alesbury came into the hall, and handed him his hat.

“You will put on your coat, sir; the evening is cold. We don’t know where Master Digby is,” he said in a tone which showed that he also was much agitated.

Meantime Mrs Heathcote, who had not exactly understood the footman’s announcement, was very much alarmed.

“Has Digby been thrown? is he hurt? where is he?” she asked, hurriedly, trying to go out into the hall, but her elder daughters and Miss Apsley held her back, thinking that it was much better to keep her quiet till they could ascertain what had really happened.

Kate had followed her father out of the room; she thought that she would at once set off to find Digby; she flew up into her room to put on her walking things.

Into the hall speedily hurried Mrs Carter, and nurse, and all the servants. Everybody was asking questions which no one was able to answer. Neither John Pratt nor any of the other men had yet come back.

Mr Heathcote, telling Thomas the footman to attend on him, seized a thick stick, and set out in the direction he understood Digby had gone with the pony. He had no definite plan; he forgot that it would have been wiser had he remained at home to have directed the search, and heard the reports of those sent to look for his son.

Kate came down prepared for her expedition soon after her father had gone out and disappeared in the darkness. She wanted to follow, but she did not know which way he had gone, and Alesbury, who thought that she ought not to go out, would not tell her.

“I will go,” she exclaimed vehemently; “I have as good eyes as anybody, and I am as likely to see him.”

Eleanor and Mary came out several times to make inquiries, and then Alesbury and Mrs Carter were summoned into the drawing-room to state all they knew and had heard. All anybody could say was, that Master Digby galloped off on his new pony, and that when John Pratt and the other men found that he did not come back, they set off to look for him. They must have missed his pony, because the pony came back by itself.

As soon as Kate saw that she was not watched, she opened the hall-door, and slipping out, closed it behind her unperceived. Then down the steps she went, and away she ran as fast as her light feet could carry her along the path she had seen Digby go. She could not bear to think that any very serious injury had happened to him, but she fancied that he had been thrown from his pony and stunned; or, perhaps, that his ankle might have been sprained or broken, and that he was, in consequence, unable to walk home.

The sky had become overcast and the night was very dark. Poor little Kate ran on, looking anxiously on every side and calling out Digby’s name. – Snow, too, began to fall, and came down in large flakes on hat face. For herself she did not care, she did not feel the cold, but she thought of dear Digby, lying on the bare ground; and, perhaps, unable to move or to call out. Perhaps he might have attempted to leap, and got thrown, or his pony might have stumbled. Still it appeared so sure-footed and sagacious a beast, that that could scarcely have happened.

“Oh Digby, Digby, where are you?” she every now and then cried out in a piteous tone.

Not a ditch nor a recess in the road of any sort, escaped her scrutinising glance. But no Digby replied, no sign of him could she discover. On she went, it appeared that she had got a long way from home. The road, and the country seemed strange to her; she had scarcely ever been out at night during her life; she did not like to turn back, but she began to fear that she might be looking for him in one direction, while he might have gone another. She had just begun to think this, when a snow-flake fell on something shining on the ground, she stooped down, and she found that it was Digby’s whip. She had no doubt about it.

“He must be near! he must be near!” she exclaimed. “Digby, Digby, answer, where are you? it is Kate calls you. Digby, dear. Brother, brother, speak to me. Oh do! do speak, Digby, just one word that I may know where to look for you. It is so dark that I cannot see you. Digby, Digby, brother, brother, speak!” she screamed out almost frantically.

No answer came to her repeated calls.

“He must have dropped his whip as the pony was galloping on,” she thought; “he may have gone further than this before he fell; and yet Digby was not likely to be thrown off; no boy of his age rides better.”

So again the brave little girl ran on, crying out his name as before. Oh, what a loving affectionate sister was Kate, well worthy to be cherished. I fully believe that there are many such who would do the same, if occasion required, for their brothers’ sakes. She did not feel faint, or fatigued, or cold; she did not think of herself, all her thoughts were for Digby, as she pictured him lying maimed on the cold ground. The snow fell thickly, the north wind blew keenly, she did not feel it herself, but she thought he did. She would have run on crying out Digby’s name till daylight, or till nature had given way and she had sunk on the ground. She heard footsteps coming along the road.

“Oh, can you tell me anything of my brother Digby?” she cried out, “Mr Heathcote’s son, he is lost. He rode away and has not come back.”

“Mercy on me, my sweet Miss Kate, is this you?” exclaimed a voice near her. It was that of John Pratt.

“Dear, oh dear, we mustn’t be a losing two on you in one day. We cannot find him, Miss Kate; but bear up, dear. It will break my heart, that it will; but that’s no matter. We be a going back to get lanterns and torches, and more people, to help in the search. The Squire will be for sending out all the men and boys from the village to look for him. He must be somewhere, and not far off, that’s my opinion. But come along back, Miss Kate; you’ll be catching your death of cold, and they’ll be wondering what has become of you next at the Hall.”

John Pratt spoke so rapidly that Kate had not been able to put in a word. She at last told him that she had found Digby’s whip not far from where they were, and that she should know the spot by some high trees of peculiar form, which were near it. Many people would have picked up the whip, and afterwards would have been unable to tell where they had found it, but her natural sagacity at once showed her the importance of being able to return to the exact spot. John wanted to carry Kate, but she would not hear of it; she consented only to hang on his arm as he hurried along. He tried to keep up her spirits in his somewhat uncouth, though not rough way.

“He’ll come back, Miss Kate, no fear. It’s not likely any great harm could have happened to him. Mayhap he has got into some cottage, and the pony ran away. When we gets lights we’ll find him. He’ll be late for dinner. It can’t be that any great harm can have happened to the heir of Bloxholme; it’s impossible, Miss Kate, I am sure it is.”

Thus rambling on in his talk, John, with poor Kate, reached the Hall. Everybody there was in a state of consternation. In the first place, Kate had been missed, and it was supposed that she had been spirited away, as had been Digby. Then, not far from the Hall, the Squire and Thomas had been set upon by half a dozen men or more, whose aim seemed to be to inflict a severe injury on them. The Squire cried out who he was, but they only seemed the more eager to conquer him. Fortunately his thick stick stood him in good stead; and Thomas being armed in a similar manner, they had for some time kept their assailants at bay; but the Squire was at length brought on his knees, being very severely handled, and almost overpowered, when some of the men who had gone out to look for Digby, came up, and his assailants fled. He called on his people to pursue, but, much injured as he was, he stumbled and fell before he got far, and the ruffians escaped. His condition was deplorable. He was brought back to the Hall, his mind racked with anxiety at the disappearance of his son, and indignant at the way he himself had been treated. He was puzzled to ascertain whether the two circumstances were in any way connected. As soon as he was a little recovered, and had been able to collect his thoughts, he sent off to the village to demand the services of most of the male population, as John Pratt had suspected he would do. He also sent off in every direction to borrow lanterns, and anything that would serve as torches.

John Pratt, on his return with poor little Kate, was heartily welcomed. The Square was too ill to direct the search, so he desired John to make all the arrangements he thought necessary, and to carry them out without delay. He wished to go out again himself, and would have done so had not Mrs Heathcote and his daughters entreated him to remain within.

The attack on the Squire had naturally created a new cause for alarm about Digby. It seemed more than probable that the same ruffians who had attacked him had got hold of his son. Still it was not supposed that they had killed him; the very idea was too dreadful.

Through the active measures taken by John Pratt, the inhabitants of every cottage and house for miles round were aware of what had occurred; but John’s hopes that he might have got into some cottage were disappointed; not a trace of him could be found.

A sleepless night was passed by all the inmates of the Hall; no one thought even of going to bed. Everybody sat up expecting to receive information about Digby; but though people continued constantly to return, no satisfactory information was brought. The place where Kate had found her brother’s whip was carefully searched by men with torches and lanterns, but nothing else belonging to him could be discovered in the neighbourhood. It became evident, at last, that they must wait for daylight to make a more satisfactory search.

Never had the inmates of Bloxholme Hall passed a more anxious and miserable night. The morning brought no news of the lost one; not a trace of him could be discovered. The snow lay thickly on the ground, and must completely have covered up all marks of every description, if any had been left.

Poor Kate wandered about the house more like a ghost than a thing of this world, watching anxiously for every person who came in, and trembling at every footstep she heard.

Early in the day, cousin Giles – or rather Mr Woodcock, for that was his proper designation – arrived with Arthur Haviland. They, of course, were very much shocked at what had occurred. Arthur was eager to go out at once to assist in the search.

Mr Giles Woodcock had seen a great deal of the world, and had profited by what he had seen. He was an acute, sensible, energetic man, full of life and spirits, and fun too, which he was always ready to exercise in its proper time and place. He was more, also, than all that – he was a devout, serious-minded Christian, and never ashamed of acknowledging the motives of his conduct. His arrival at the moment was most opportune.

The Squire, although up and dressed, was, both in mind and body, so prostrate that he could not take that active superintendence of all the arrangements which were necessary.

Cousin Giles saw the state of things, and at once set to work. He called everybody in, and made them give their reports, of which he made notes. He called for a map of the district; he inquired whether anybody in the neighbourhood could have a motive for attacking Digby and the Squire. He strongly suspected that the men who had assaulted Mr Heathcote were in some way concerned in the disappearance of his son. How to find out who they were, and to get hold of them, was the difficulty. Although, however, he suspected one thing, he did not, as is often the case, exert himself to prove his suspicions correct to the neglect of all other points, but he directed the search to be continued and inquiries to be made in every possible direction and way.

At last John Pratt returned after another prolonged search over the country.

“Well, John,” said cousin Giles, “this is a sad matter. We won’t waste words, though. Have you a suspicion who has got hold of the lad? Had anybody any reason for attacking the Squire? Can you suggest any means of finding this out?”

John thought a little. “Old Dame Marlow may tell us something about it, zur,” he said, after scratching his head vehemently. “She knows zomething of everything; and if she don’t know, nobody does.”

Cousin Giles, having made further inquiries as to the dame’s character, was about to dispatch John to bring her to the Hall, when Mr Bowdler arrived.

He had been absent from home, and immediately on his return, hearing what had occurred, set off for the Hall.

Cousin Giles told him what he was about to do.

“She may know something about the matter, but not by supernatural means, as these poor ignorant people suppose,” he remarked. “A magistrate’s warrant, in the hands of a constable, will have the best effect in eliciting the truth from her. The Squire can issue it; a constable is in attendance; we will send it off at once. A grandson of her’s was lately apprehended and transported through the Squire’s means, and it is probable that she has instigated some of her friends to this act, to revenge herself.”

In less than an hour the wretched old woman was brought up to the Hall.

Mr Bowdler first endeavoured by gentle persuasion to induce her to confess all she knew; but she was deaf to all his exhortations. Though she put on a stolid, dull look, and answered only in monosyllables, there was a cunning twinkle in her eye, which showed that she fully understood what was said to her, and was evidently not ignorant of the matter.

Cousin Giles next tried to draw some information out of her by threats. She looked up several times with an inquiring look to ascertain whether he had the power of doing what he threatened. When brought before the Squire, she scowled fiercely at him, and not a word could be drawn from her. She was sent under charge of the constable to remain in the servants’ hall.

“Give her food and treat her kindly,” said the Squire; “she is an old woman, and feels the loss of her grandson.”

The old woman heard what was said, but made no remark.

“At all events I am convinced she can, if she will, give us some of the information we require,” remarked cousin Giles; “she completely betrayed herself by her looks and gestures. I remarked particularly her fear of me, not knowing who I was, and her hatred of the Squire, while she had made up her mind to turn a deaf ear to your exhortations, Mr Bowdler.”

“What do you advise, then?” asked the clergyman.

“Keep her here, and work upon her fears. Then show her that it is her interest to tell us what we want to know,” answered cousin Giles; “force will not do. I doubt if even the judges of the Inquisition would get much out of her.”

The whole day passed by and no clue as to what had become of Digby was obtained. Even John Pratt was knocked up, and was obliged to go to bed to recover strength, that he might continue the search.

When it was known that Dame Marlow was had up to the Hall, two men came in and stated that they had heard her threaten both the Squire and his heir with her vengeance, though they supposed that she intended to carry it out by means of her incantations. Their evidence, however, was sufficient to enable the Squire to detain her at the Hall. A bed was made up for her in a little room where people, who came to speak to him on magisterial business, were put till their turn arrived to see him. She much wanted to be left alone.

“No, no, old lady,” answered the constable, laughing; “you’d be flying up the chimney, or burning the house down, or playing some prank or other. That would never do.”

Arthur Haviland felt very sorry. He was very anxious to be doing something, but did not know what to do. Kate very naturally took him into her confidence.

“Oh, I wish that I was a boy,” she exclaimed. “I would roam the country round till I found Digby, or cross the seas, and search for him through every land, if I thought he had been carried there. But they will not let me go. Mamma says I must not, and Miss Apsley made me promise to obey, and so I must submit; but it is very cruel.”

“Fortunately I am a boy, and I will go,” cried Arthur, enthusiastically. “He saved my life, and I am sure that my father would not disapprove of my going.”

“Thank you, Arthur, thank you,” she answered. “I am sure that he is alive. I should have felt very differently had he been dead. I could not have borne that thought. You will find him; I feel that you must find him, remember that. Poor mamma and my sisters think that he has been killed by those dreadful men who attacked papa.”

This sad event made Arthur at once feel himself at home, and one of the family. He was prompt in all he did. He went at once to Mr Woodcock, and asked him to obtain a man to accompany him, saying that he would set off the next morning at daybreak, and prosecute his inquiries through the neighbouring districts.

“Perhaps I may find out something which has escaped the notice of the people here,” he remarked.

“I like your zeal and spirit, and will gladly aid your plan,” answered cousin Giles.

Arthur was ready at the hour he had arranged; and he found a lad of about eighteen prepared to be his companion. Adam Hodder seemed a very intelligent fellow; and Arthur felt that he would rather have him than an older person.

Both Arthur and his companion were warmly clad and well prepared to brave the cold. Arthur had put on his roughest clothing, but still he looked the gentleman. They carried some provisions in a bag that they might not have to go out of their way to obtain them: but they had taken a good breakfast in the dark, that no time might be lost of the short day of that season. The air smelt pure and fresh as they stepped out in the grey light of the early dawn; and as they walked on briskly Arthur found his spirits rising, and he felt sure that he should again see his friend.

“Well, Adam Hodder, what do you think can have become of Master Heathcote?” he asked.

“That’s more than I can say, sir,” answered Adam. “But I don’t think with some of the people about here, that old Dame Marlow has spirited him away. It’s more than likely that some of her people may have got hold of him, and will either carry him away out of the country, or make the Squire pay pretty largely before they give him back.”

This was a new idea to Arthur, and it served to help him in his inquiries. He told Adam also to make his own observations, and to gain certain information at every cottage they visited. He learned that some men in the dress of seamen had been seen in the parish. They had not spoken to any one, and no one knew where they were going. Then, again, these were the men probably who had attacked the Squire, and they might possibly have had nothing to do with Digby’s disappearance. Still, from their being dressed as seamen, Arthur resolved to prosecute his inquiries towards the coast. He accordingly sent a messenger back to the Hall to say what he had heard, and what he proposed doing. He hoped to get as far as Osberton that night. He had gone some way when he heard some horses’ hoofs clattering along the hard road. He looked round, and, as the riders approached, he saw that it was John Pratt and another man.