The First Sir Percy by Baroness Orczy (which ebook reader TXT) 📕

began, my lord,” she said, with something of her former assurance⁠—and God alone knew what it cost her to speak⁠—“by saying that you desired to place certain matters before me for my consideration. I have not yet heard, remember, what those matters are.”

“True⁠—true!” he rejoined, with hypocritical unction. “But I felt it my duty⁠—my sad duty, I may say⁠—”

“A truce on this hollow mockery!” she riposted. “I pray you, come to the point.”

“The point is, fair one, that both Nicolaes and I desire to compass your welfare,” he retorted blandly.

“This you can do best at this hour, my lord, by allowing me to return to the privacy of mine apartments.”

“So you shall, myn engel⁠—so you shall,” he rejoined suavely. “You will need time to prepare for departure.”

She frowned, puzzled this time.

“For departure?” she asked, a little bewildered.

“I leave this town tomorrow at the head of my troops.”

“Thank God for that!” she rejoined earnestly.

“And you, mejuffrouw,” he added curtly, “will accompany us.”

“I?” she asked, not altogether understanding, the frown more deeply marked between her brows.

“Methought I spoke clearly,” he went on, in his habitual harsh, peremptory tone. “I only came to this town in order to fetch you, myn engel. Tomorrow we go away together.”

“The folly of human grandeur hath clouded your brain, my lord!” she said coldly.

“In what way?” he queried, still perfectly bland and mild.

“You know well that I would sooner die than follow you.”

“I know well that most women are over-ready with heroics. But,” he added, with a shrug of the shoulders, “these tantrums usually leave me cold. You are an intelligent woman, mejuffrouw, and you have seen your valiant father resign himself to the inevitable.”

“I pray you waste no words, my lord,” she rejoined coolly. “Three months ago, when at Ryswick, your crimes found you out, and you strove to involve me in your own disgrace and ruin, I gave you mine answer⁠—the same that I do now. My dead body you can take with you, but I, alive, will never follow you!”

“ ’Twas different then,” he retorted, with a cynical smile. “You had a fortune-hunting adventurer to hand who was determined to see that your father’s shekels did not lightly escape his grasp. Today⁠—”

“Today,” she retorted, and rose to her feet, fronted him now, superb with indignation, “he is sightless, absent, impotent, you would say, to protect me against your villainy! You miserable, slinking cur!”

Stoutenburg’s harsh, forced laugh broke in upon her wrath.

“Ah!” he exclaimed lightly. “You little spitfire! In very truth, I like you better in that mood. Heroics do not become you, myn schat, and they are so unnecessary. Did you perchance imagine that it was love for you that hath influenced my decision to take you away from here?”

“I pray God, my lord, that I be not polluted by as much as a thought from you!”

“Your prayers have been granted, fair one,” he retorted with a sneer. “ ’Tis but seldom I think of you now, save as an exquisite little termagant whom it will amuse me to tame. But this is by the way. That pleasure will lose nothing by procrastination. You know me well enough by now to realise that I am not likely to be lenient with you after your vixenish treatment of me. For the nonce, I pray you to keep a civil tongue in your head,” he added roughly. “On your conduct at this hour will depend your future comfort. Nicolaes will not always be skulking in dark corners, ready to interfere if my manner become too rough.”

“He is here now,” she said boldly, “and if there is a spark of honour left in him he will conduct me to my rooms!”

With this she turned and walked steadily across the room. Even so his harsh laugh accompanied her as far as the door. When her hand was upon the knob, he called lightly after her:

“The moment you step cross the threshold, myn schat, Jan will bring you back here⁠—in his arms!”

V

Instinctively she paused, realizing that the warning had come just in time⁠—that the next moment, in very truth, she would be in the hands of those vile traitors who were there ready to obey their master’s every command. She paused, too, in order to murmur a quick prayer for Divine guidance, seeing that human protection was denied her at this hour. What could she do? She was like a bird caught in a snare from which there seemed to be no issue. Stoutenburg’s sneering laugh rang in her ear. He was beside her now, took her hand from the knob and held it for a moment forcibly in his. His glance, charged with cruel mockery, took in every line of her pallid face.

“Heroics again, fair one!” he said, with an impish grin. “Must I assure you once more that you are perfectly safe with me? See, if you were in danger from me, would not your brother interfere? Bah! Nicolaes knows well enough that passion doth not enter into my schemes at this hour. My plans are too vast to be swayed by your frowns or your smiles. I have entered this city as a conqueror. As a conqueror I shall go out of it tomorrow, and you will come with me. I shall go hence because I choose, and for reasons which I will presently make clear to you.

“But you shall come with me. When you are with me in my camp, I may honour you as my future wife, or cast you from me as I would a beggar. That will depend on my mood, and upon your temper. Nicolaes will not be there to run counter to my will. Therefore, understand me, my pretty fire-eater, that from this hour forth you are as absolutely my property as my dogs are, my horse, or the boots which I wear. I am the master here,” he concluded with strangely sinister calm, “And my