Great Britain -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
'A fig for the lie, mistress!' cried the old harridan; and added, as was
too much the fashion in those days, a word we cannot print. The Duchess
of Northumberland had the greater name for coarseness; but Lady
Dunborough's tongue was known in town. 'Ay, that smartens you, does it?
'she continued with cruel delight; for the girl had winced as from a
blow. 'But here comes the landlord, and now out you go. Ay, into the
streets, mistress! Hoity-toity, that dirt like you should sit at tables!
Go wash the dishes, slut!'
There was not a waiter who saw the younger woman's shame who did not
long to choke the viscountess. As for the attorney, though he had vague
fears of privilege before his eyes, and was clogged by the sex of the
assailant, he could remain silent no longer.
'My lady,' he cried, in a tone of trembling desperation, 'you will--you
will repent this! You don't know what you are doing. I tell you that
to-morrow--'
'What is this?' said a quiet voice. It was the landlord's; he spoke as
he pushed his way through the group at the door. 'Has your ladyship some
complaint to make?' he continued civilly, his eye taking in the
scene--even to the elder woman, who through her tears kept muttering,
'Deary, we ought not to have come here! I told him we ought not to come
here!' And then, before her ladyship could reply, 'Is this the
party--that have Sir George Soane's rooms?' he continued, turning to
the nearest servant.
Lady Dunborough answered for the man. 'Ay!' she said, pitiless in her
triumph. 'They are! And know no more of Soane than the hair of my head!
They are a party of fly-by-nights; and for this fine madam, she is a
kitchen dish-washer at Oxford! And the commonest, lowest slut that--'
'Your ladyship has said enough,' the landlord interposed, moved by pity
or the girl's beauty. 'I know already that there has been some mistake
here, and that these persons have no right to the rooms they occupy. Sir
George Soane has alighted within the last few minutes--'
'And knows nothing of them!' my lady cried, clapping her hands in
triumph.
'That is so,' the landlord answered ominously. Then, turning to the
bewildered attorney, 'For you, sir,' he continued, 'if you have anything
to say, be good enough to speak. On the face of it, this is a dirty
trick you have played me.'
'Trick?' cried the attorney.
'Ay, trick, man. But before I send for the constable--'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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