Mistress Wilding

Rafael Sabatini

Description

The classic action-adventure romance Mistress Wilding offers something for every Rafael Sabatini fan. Set amidst the turmoil of King James' reign, the tangled love triangle at the center of the novel is beset on all sides by conflict, treachery and intrigue. Will the chivalrous protagonist Anthony Wilding be able to woo his beloved and help stabilize the tumultuous political environment in the country?

Sujets

• Historical fiction

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 septembre 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775454472
• Langue: English

Extrait

MISTRESS WILDING
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RAFAEL SABATINI
 
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Mistress Wilding First published in 1910 ISBN 978-1-775454-47-2 © 2011 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - Pot-Valiance Chapter II - Sir Rowland to the Rescue Chapter III - Diana Schemes Chapter IV - Terms of Surrender Chapter V - The Encounter Chapter VI - The Champion Chapter VII - The Nuptials of Ruth Westmacott Chapter VIII - Bride and Groom Chapter IX - Mr. Trenchard's Counterstroke Chapter X - Their Own Petard Chapter XI - The Marplot Chapter XII - At the Ford Chapter XIII - "Pro Religione et Libertate" Chapter XIV - His Grace' in Counsel Chapter XV - Lyme of the King Chapter XVI - Plots and Plotters Chapter XVII - Mr. Wilding's Return Chapter XVIII - Betrayal Chapter XIX - The Banquet Chapter XX - The Reckoning Chapter XXI - The Sentence Chapter XXII - The Execution Chapter XXIII - Mr. Wilding's Boots Chapter XXIV - Justice
Chapter I - Pot-Valiance
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Then drink it thus, cried the rash young fool, and splashed the contentsof his cup full into the face of Mr. Wilding even as that gentleman, onhis feet, was proposing to drink to the eyes of the young fool's sister.
The moments that followed were full of interest. A stillness, abrooding, expectant stillness, fell upon the company—and it numbereda round dozen—about Lord Gervase's richly appointed board. In the softcandlelight the oval table shone like a deep brown pool, in which werereflected the gleaming silver and sparkling crystal that seemed to floatupon it.
Blake sucked in his nether-lip, his florid face a thought less floridthan its wont, his prominent blue eyes a thought more prominent. Underits golden periwig old Nick Trenchard's wizened countenance was darkenedby a scowl, and his fingers, long, swarthy, and gnarled, drummedfretfully upon the table. Portly Lord Gervase Scoresby—their host, abenign and placid man of peace, detesting turbulence—turned crimson nowin wordless rage. The others gaped and stared—some at young Westmacott,some at the man he had so grossly affronted—whilst in the shadows ofthe hall a couple of lacqueys looked on amazed, all teeth and eyes.
Mr. Wilding stood, very still and outwardly impassive, the wine tricklingfrom his long face, which, if pale, was no paler than its habit,a vestige of the smile with which he had proposed the toast stilllingering on his thin lips, though departed from his eyes. An elegantgentleman was Mr. Wilding, tall, and seeming even taller by virtue ofhis exceeding slenderness. He had the courage to wear his own hair,which was of a dark brown and very luxuriant; dark brown too were hissombre eyes, low-lidded and set at a downward slant. From those odd eyesof his, his countenance gathered an air of superciliousness tempered bya gentle melancholy. For the rest, it was scored by lines that stampedit with the appearance of an age in excess of his thirty years.
Thirty guineas' worth of Mechlin at his throat was drenched, empurpledand ruined beyond redemption, and on the breast of his blue satin coat adark patch was spreading like a stain of blood.
Richard Westmacott, short, sturdy, and fair-complexioned to the pointof insipidity, watched him sullenly out of pale eyes, and waited. Itwas Lord Gervase who broke at last the silence—broke it with an oath, athing unusual in one whose nature was almost woman-mild.
"As God's my life!" he spluttered wrathfully, glowering at Richard. "Tohave this happen in my house! The young fool shall make apology!"
"With his dying breath," sneered Trenchard, and the old rake's words,his tone, and the malevolent look he bent upon the boy increased thecompany's malaise.
"I think," said Mr. Wilding, with a most singular and excessivesweetness, "that what Mr. Westmacott has done he has done because heapprehended me amiss."
"No doubt he'll say so," opined Trenchard with a shrug, and had cautiondug into his ribs by Blake's elbow, whilst Richard made haste to provehim wrong by saying the contrary.
"I apprehended you exactly, sir," he answered, defiance in his voice andwine-flushed face.
"Ha!" clucked Trenchard, irrepressible. "He's bent on self-destruction.Let him have his way, in God's name."
But Wilding seemed intent upon showing how long-suffering he couldbe. He gently shook his head. "Nay, now," said he. "You thought, Mr.Westmacott, that in mentioning your sister, I did so lightly. Is itnot so?"
"You mentioned her, and that is all that matters," cried Westmacott."I'll not have her name on your lips at any time or in any place—no,nor in any manner." His speech was thick from too much wine.
"You are drunk," cried indignant Lord Gervase with finality.
"Pot-valiant," Trenchard elaborated.
Mr. Wilding set down at last the glass which he had continued tohold until that moment. He rested his hands upon the table, knucklesdownward, and leaning forward he spoke impressively, his face verygrave; and those present—knowing him as they did—were one and all lostin wonder at his unusual patience.
"Mr. Westmacott," said he, "I do think you are wrong to persist inaffronting me. You have done a thing that is beyond forgiveness, andyet, when I offer you this opportunity of honourably retrieving..." Heshrugged his shoulders, leaving the sentence incomplete.
The company might have spared its deep surprise at so much mildness.There was but the semblance of it. Wilding proceeded thus of purposeset, and under the calm mask of his long white face his mind workedwickedly and deliberately. The temerity of Westmacott, whose nature wasnotoriously timid, had surprised him for a moment. But anon, reading theboy's mind as readily as though it had been a scroll unfolded for hisinstruction, he saw that Westmacott, on the strength of his positionas his sister's brother, conceived himself immune. Mr. Wilding's avowedcourtship of the lady, the hopes he still entertained of winning her,despite the aversion she was at pains to show him, gave Westmacottassurance that Mr. Wilding would never elect to shatter his all tooslender chances by embroiling himself in a quarrel with her brother.And—reading him, thus, aright—Mr. Wilding put on that mask ofpatience, luring the boy into greater conviction of the security ofhis position. And Richard, conceiving himself safe in his entrenchmentbehind the bulwarks of his brothership to Ruth Westmacott, and heartenedfurther by the excess of wine he had consumed, persisted in insults hewould never otherwise have dared to offer.
"Who seeks to retrieve?" he crowed offensively, boldly looking up intothe other's face. "It seems you are yourself reluctant." And he laugheda trifle stridently, and looked about him for applause, but found none.
"You are overrash," Lord Gervase disapproved him harshly.
"Not the first coward I've seen grow valiant at a table," put inTrenchard by way of explanation, and might have come to words with Blakeon that same score, but that in that moment Wilding spoke again.
"Reluctant to do what?" he questioned amiably, looking Westmacottso straightly between the eyes that the boy shifted uneasily on hishigh-backed chair.
Nevertheless, still full of confidence in the unassailability of hisposition, the mad youth answered, "To cleanse yourself of what I threwat you."
"Fan me, ye winds!" gasped Nick Trenchard, and looked with expectancy athis friend Wilding.
Now there was one factor with which, in basing with such cravenshrewdness his calculations upon Mr. Wilding's feelings for his sister,young Richard had not reckoned. He was not to know that Wilding,bruised and wounded by Miss Westmacott's scorn of him, had reached thatborderland where love and hate are so merged that they are scarce to bedistinguished. Embittered by the slights she had put upon him—slightswhich his sensitive, lover's fancy had magnified a hundredfold—AnthonyWilding's frame of mind was grown peculiar. Of his love she would havenone; his kindness she seemingly despised. So be it; she should tastehis cruelty. If she scorned his wooing and forbade him to pursue it, atleast it was not hers to deny him the power to hurt; and in hurtingher that would not be loved by him some measure of fierce and bitterconsolation seemed to await him.
He realized, perhaps, not quite all this—and to the unworthiness of itall he gave no thought. But he realized enough as he toyed, as cat withmouse, with Richard Westmacott, to know that in striking at her throughthe worthless person of this brother whom she cherished—and whopersisted in affording him this opportunity—a wicked vengeance would behis.
Peace-loving Lord Gervase had heaved himself suddenly to his feet atWestmacott's last words, still intent upon saving the situation.
"In Heaven's name..." he began, when Mr. Wilding, ever calm and smiling,though now a trifle sinister, waved him gently into silence. But thatpersisting calm of Mr. Wilding's was too much for old Nick Trenchard. Herose abruptly, drawing all eyes upon himself. It was time, he thought,he took a hand in this.
In addition to his affection for Wilding and his contempt forWestmacott, he was filled with a fear that the latter might becomedangerous if not crushed at once. Gifted with a shrewd knowledge ofmen, acquired during a chequered life of much sour experience, oldNick instinctively mistrusted Richard. He had known him for a fool,a weakling, a babbler, and a bibber of wine. Out of such elements avillain is soon compounded, and Trenchard had cause to fear the formof