Chapter 9
chapter nine of mad barbara by warwick deeping this librivox recording is in the public domain chapter nine for a girl to maintain her dignity in some such assemblage as that at the house of hortense she needed a glib tongue an easy temper and no prejudices with regard to the inviolate sanctity of her lips or cheek the gentleman of fashion had renounced the central superstition of chivalry while retaining some of its outward pageantry and splendor cynics and worldlings they had no real reverence for woman no belief in her honour and little consideration for her name she was merely a thing to be coveted to be maligned or to be made perhaps the butt of the bitterest and most unmanly ridicule how mean and utterly contemptible those splendid gentlemen of the court could be anne hyde had learned in the days before she became a duchess so many noble fellows conspiring to swear away a woman's honour and fabricating unclean lies about her in the belief they would please a prince barbara remained isolated by the window studying the scene with an expression of sulky scorn it was her first glimpse at the gadflies of the court their methods of attack and of torture were to her things unknown
many of the men had prematurely aged features harsh skins and unhealthy eyes some two or three were palpably the worse for wine and despite their rich clothes and the beauty of mere surface refinement they brought an atmosphere of unwholesome insolence into the italian's salon an insolence that made such true aristocrats as john evelyn despair of the courts of kings the mancini had drawn the mock bishop aside and they were talking together with ironical little smiles and gestures barbara met hortense's eyes across the room the man in the silk cassock glanced also in the same direction and barbara had the sudden sense of being under discussion the majority of the men were drinking wine at a side-table talking loudly and without an atom of restraint as though they were in a tavern and not in the salon of a great lady my lord gore and his son were the centre of a little group the brown face of the sea-captain contrasting with the whiter skins of the idlers about town he was glancing about the room as though tired of being penned up in a corner by a party of fops with whom he had no sympathy
more than once his eyes met those of barbara purcell they appeared to be the only two people in the room who chafed instinctively at their surroundings a loud voice at the door of the salon strident and harsh overtopped the babbling of the crowd heads were turned in the direction periwigs bowed slim swords cocked under the velvet coat-tails the commotion hinted at the entry of some great captain in the campaign of pleasure the knot of many colored figures fell apart and a big man in black and silver stalked forward to salute hortense it was philip of pembroke the most outrageous and hot-headed aristocrat in the kingdom a man whose own friends treated him as they would have treated an open powder-mine and whose very friendship was often the prelude to a quarrel few people had the nerve to sit near him at table for an argument was his great joy and his method of debate was so fierce and fanatical that his arguments very frequently took the form of wine-bottles and dishes or any forcible persuader that came to hand
he would quarrel with any one anywhere on any topic and appeared to cherish the conviction that the whole world had conspired to contradict him lean ominous with a fierce intent brown face his sharp snapping jowl made him appear more like a mad fanatic than a sane and stately english peer the marvel was that a man with such a face should waste even his madness on irresponsible brawls and outrages it was like some fierce egyptian monk playing insane tricks in christian alexandria he saluted hortense with his usual air of restless-eyed and explosive abruptness she had assumed her utmost graciousness her full feminine fascination my lord stared at her for a moment in his queer distrustful way and then turned to the figure in the silk cassock well you dull dog how are we to be amused to-night tom temple adopted a tone of the blandest deference we have founded a mission my lord for the conversion of unkissed females
damnation boy there are none my lord of pembroke is a great authority am i who told you that i should like to talk with him a minute where are your converts eh by my soul i don't see many the bishop made an unctuous gesture with his open hands there are an innocent few my lord three pinafores and two aprons who's that there old purcell's widow she is as plump as a fat hen and the one there by the window who's she tom temple appealed to hortense ampersel's daughter a sour scratch your face looking wench zance tom begin your mission there go and kiss her or i'll knock your head against the wall he laughed as though hugely tickled while the majority of the men who had been listening exchanged glances and divided their curiosity between the girl by the window my lord pembroke and bishop tom hortense had drawn aside and was bending over anne purcell there may have been a motive in the move possibly she did not wish to countenance the joke and yet desired to profit by the information she might gain thereby
the bishop looked embarrassed if you will lend me your countenance my lord go and kiss her on my conscience sir he was drifting perilously near an argument and the mad peers eyes began to sparkle the crowd settled itself to enjoy the drama why my lord bishop is a heretic the recusant the fifth monarchy maniac pull his bibs off tom temple found himself in the midst of a dilemma on the one hand was this silent swarthy-faced girl who looked as unapproachable as a minerva on the other my lord of pembroke ready to explode at the slightest opposition i accept your mandate my lord forward then sainted sir i am the church militant to support the conversion tom temple plucked up his impertinence and approached barbara with an air of grim solemnity all eyes were turned in her direction she found herself the cynosure of this mocking sneering mischief-loving crowd my daughter i am authorized by his majesty pope of whitehall
and by my lord cardinal pembroke here to initiate you into the one true church are you my daughter in a fit and ready state to be converted barbara looked the young man straight in the face and said nothing have you no answer for me my child my lord of pembroke gave him a push from behind do it tom or i'll convert her myself my lord cardinal i am ready to abdicate in your favour sophist kiss her and have done tom temple looked at barbara and found his expiring impudence unequal to the task a breeze of cynical laughter swept the room the three girls had left the card-table and were standing huddled together giggling and glancing from barbara to the gentleman hortense and anne purcell had drawn aside toward the harpsichord while the sentimental widow seemed scared the church militant must intervene my lord of pembroke jostled the mock churchman aside and faced barbara she had risen and was standing at her full height an angry colour flooding into her face the peer and the lady looked each other in the eyes the man's cynical yet malicious stare humiliated her despite her wrath and her defiance
her glance travelled over the faces that seemed to fill the room nowhere did she find a glimmer of pity or resentment she was just a silly prudish girl to them a sulky child to be teased a thing that piqued their cynical curiosity my lord of pembroke made a curt bow you will permit me to receive you into the bosom of our church he said she flashed a fierce stare at him and then drew back close to the window it was then that her eyes met the eyes of some one in the room some one who had been standing in the background and who was watching her with intense earnestness she recognized john gore a rush of appeal and of chivalrous sympathy seemed to leap from face to face my lord pembroke advanced a step there was something satanic about his eyes come little simpleton he stretched out his arm and caught her wrist roughly but she twisted it free gently my wild filly we must break you to harness come now he was shouldered aside abruptly with a vigour that set the whole room gaping at the thunderclap that would follow
a shortish sturdy man with a brown imperturbable face had established himself calmly between my lord and barbara purcell it seems my lord that since you are all christians i am the only heathen in the room The retort came instantly, with a sweep of the peer's arm. John Gore was ready for it, and put the blow aside.
Half a dozen gentlemen rushed in and made a human barrier between the pair. My Lord of Pembroke struggled like a knot of fire, half smothered by damp fuel. Let go my arm, Howard,
or by God I'll run my sword through you! They tried to pacify him, but his violent temper blazed through their words. He looked madman enough as he spat his fury
over the shoulders of those who held him back. But for the inevitable steal, the scene might have been ridiculous. Will you fight? I am at your service, my lord.
Come, then, draw. Clear the room. Howard, you are my second. Hortense's voice intervened with imperious feeling. Gentlemen!
Not in my house! Stephen Gore had pushed through and stood beside his son. Take me, Jack. Keep cool, boy.
The fool's mad. in the park then ludbert it's raining torrents said some one peering through the window who the devil cares for rain tell my boys to light their links get me my cloak howard are you ready sir ready my lord said john gore we can use the swords we have that is my privilege i believe chapter nine
