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III. HOW THE WILL WAS FOUND

MRS. Calverley, as already intimated, had sent a telegraphic message from London to Mr. Carteret, desiring him to come to her next morning at Ousel-croft; and she gave him a hint of the business on which she wished to consult him, by mentioning that she expected Lord Courland.

Accordingly, about ten o’clock next morning, in compliance with the summons he had received, Mr. Carteret made his appearance, and was conducted by Norris to the cabinet just described, where he found the beautiful widow seated at a desk, with writing materials before her.

“I am so much obliged to you for coming to me, Mr. Carteret,” she said, giving him a very warm welcome. “I want to see you most particularly. Pray sit down!”

“If I am not mistaken, madam, you are about to form an important matrimonial alliance?” he remarked.

“You have guessed rightly, Mr. Carteret,” she said, with a smile. “I went up to town a few days ago perfectly free, and have returned engaged.”

“To Lord Courland?”

“To his lordship.”

“Accept my congratulations,” he said, rather gravely. “But I am obliged to treat the affair as a matter of business, and must dismiss all sentiment. Does his lordship propose to make a handsome settlement upon you?”

“No doubt he would, if it were in his power; but he is unable to do so.”

“I feared not,”’ replied Carteret. “But I hope he doesn’t expect a settlement to be made on him?”

“I rather think he does,” replied the lady.

“But surely you have not made any promise to this effect?” observed Carteret.

“Indeed, I have, sir,” she rejoined. “You look surprised. But I really could not do otherwise. I have promised to settle half my property upon him.”

“But how will you fulfil your promise?”

“I see no difficulty in the way,” she rejoined. “I have only to give you the necessary instructions.”

“If that were all, it would be easy enough. But I can scarcely conceive it possible you can be in ignorance of – ”

“In ignorance of what?” she hastily interrupted.

“Of the clause in your late husband’s will, which directs that in the event of your marrying again, the whole of the property shall go to Mildred. Thus you will have nothing more than the settlement made upon you before your marriage.”

“Is this so?” asked Mrs. Calverley, with some astonishment. “I was not aware of it.”

“It is exactly as I state,” he replied. “I am amazed to find you have not read the will.”

“I have read it,” she cried. “But I did not notice the clause you mention.”

“I will show it you in a moment if you will give me the will,” he said.

“I fear the will has been stolen,” she rejoined.

“Stolen?” he ejaculated.

“Yes; I wished to refer to it last evening, but could not find it.”

“Had you put it in a safe place?”

“I put it in one of the drawers of this escritoire. The drawers were all locked, but the will was gone!”

“Have you examined the drawers to-day?” asked Carteret.

“I have not, because I consider further search completely useless.”

“I should like to satisfy myself before making inquiries,” said Carteret.

Mrs. Calverley unlocked the top drawer, and opened it, and had no sooner done so, than Mr. Carteret sprang forward, exclaiming:

“Why, there it is!”

Had it come there by magic?

Mrs. Calverley could scarcely believe her eyes.

“Are you certain you examined this drawer?” said Carteret.

“Quite. Laura searched it after me.”

“But how came the will back?”

“That I cannot explain,” replied Mrs. Calverley. “But it is clear one of the servants has a key that fits this lock. I scarcely like to say so – but I suspect Norris.”

“I can’t believe the old man capable of such an act,” said Carteret. “However, we’ll speak of that presently. First, let me convince you that my statement in regard to the will is correct. Here is the clause. It is at the very end of the instrument: – ‘And I hereby declare that if my dear wife, Teresa, shall marry again, without the consent in writing first had and obtained of my dear daughter Mildred, then, and in such case, the whole of my property hereby devised to my said wife, shall go and revert to my said daughter Mildred, anything heretofore expressed to the contrary notwithstanding.’ Thus you see, madam,” he pursued, “if you marry again, all your property, which may be roughly estimated at five thousand pounds per annum, will go from you, and you will have nothing but your settlement. I cannot imagine how this important clause escaped you.”

“Neither can I,” said Mrs. Calverley.

“But it will now be necessary to decide whether you will sacrifice your present large income, or break off the important match you have just formed. I don’t think you can have much hesitation. In my opinion, when Lord Courland learns how you are circumstanced, he will be anxious to retire.”

“I do not think so,” exclaimed Mrs. Calverley.

“Well, you will have an excellent opportunity of testing the sincerity of his affection.”

“I am taken quite by surprise, as you see, Mr. Carteret,” said Mrs. Calverley, who was greatly agitated, “and must have time for consideration before I can decide. I anticipate no difficulty.”

“It is certainly an awkward dilemma,” said Carteret; “but I don’t see how you can get out of it, unless you are content to remain single. I quite thought you understood your position, or I should have ventured to give you some advice before.”

“I wish you had,” said Mrs. Calverley. “I little imagined Mildred held my destiny in her hands. She cannot be aware of her power?”

“I have no means of judging,” replied Carteret. “But I fancy not.”

“Then let her be kept in ignorance for a short time, till we are able to think the matter over. I cannot, will not give up Lord Courland – I love him!”

“That alters the case, madam.”

“But though I cannot give him up, I know not whether he is disinterested enough to take me with my small fortune.”

“Fifteen hundred a year is not a small fortune,” said Carteret, “and you have that, at any rate. If Lord Courland loves you as strongly as I am persuaded he does, I am sure he will be content with it.”

“But he has been led to expect more,” said Mrs. Calverley.

“Yes; that is unfortunate. His expectations having been raised so highly, a disappointment may ensue. But I do not anticipate a rupture is to be apprehended. Let me state that I did my best to prevent the introduction of this objectionable clause into the will. But my remonstrances were ineffectual, Mr. Calverley was determined. ‘If she marries again, the property shall return to my family,’ he said. So I was obliged to carry out his instructions. I know not what are your plans, madam, but my advice to you is to delay the marriage as long as you can, so that some arrangement may be made with Miss Calverley.”

“I will follow your advice, Mr. Carteret. But, when Mildred discovers her power, I think she will prove impracticable.”

“It may be so,” he rejoined. “But you are still mistress of the situation. She may prevent your marriage, but she can do nothing more. Evidently, she is in the dark at present. Keep this matter secret till you have concocted your plans; you will then be able to make a better arrangement.”

“But you forget that I have an enemy in the house. Whoever abstracted the will – and I still suspect Norris – is in possession of the important secret, and will communicate it. That is certain.”

Struck by what she said, Mr. Carteret reflected for a few minutes.

“Under the circumstances, it may be well to keep on good terms with old Norris,” he said. “Chetwynd and Mildred, I find, are both absent, so that you need not apprehend immediate interference from either of them. Summon me, if you require my counsel, and I will come at once. I can render you no service just now. But mind! make no proposition to Mildred without consulting me.”

And he left the cabinet.

As he went out, he found Norris in the hall, and took the opportunity of speaking to him.

“Well, Norris,” he said, “you’re going to have a great change in the house before long. How does it suit you?”

“Not at all, sir,” replied the old butler, who looked very gloomy. “I’d rather things remained as they are. But do you really think, sir, this marriage will take place?”

“What’s to hinder it?” remarked Carteret, looking at him inquiringly.

“Nothing that I know of,” replied Norris; “but perhaps Mrs. Calverley may change her mind. She has got everything she wants now.”

“Except a husband!” replied Carteret, laughing.

“And he may cost too dear,” said Norris.

“Too dear! What do you mean?”

“A young nobleman is not to be had for nothing,” replied Norris.

“Well, Mrs. Calverley can afford to pay a high price for such a luxury, if she chooses,” said Carteret. “However, that’s not the way to look at the matter, Norris. This is a very great match, and must be conducted in a befitting manner. A large settlement must necessarily be made.”

“I don’t dispute that, sir,” said Norris. “But can a large settlement be made?”

“The rascal has read the will!” thought Carteret. “Of course it can!” he added, aloud. “Mrs. Calverley can do what she likes with her own.”

“Well, you ought to know better than me, sir,” said Norris; “but I fancy you’re mistaken. I always understood my old master didn’t wish his wife to marry again, and I concluded he would take precautions to prevent her doing so.”

“I wouldn’t advise you to make such observations as those to any one but me, Norris,” said Carteret.

“Not even to Mr. Chetwynd, or Miss Mildred, sir?”

“I see what you are driving at, Norris; but you had better hold your tongue, and keep quiet; you’ll do yourself no good by meddling in what does not concern you. Things are by no means settled. Most certainly, the marriage won’t take place at present. Very likely it may not take place at all. But if it does, the testamentary directions will be strictly carried out.”

“That’s all I wished to know, sir,” replied the butler. “I won’t say a word more to any one.”

And he attended Mr. Carteret to the door, where the solicitor’s mail-phaeton was waiting for him.

IV. A LETTER PROM LORD COURLAND

On quitting the cabinet, the door of which was locked, and, taking the key with her, Mrs. Calverley went out into the garden, looking, apparently, quite cheerful, though she had an anxious breast, and had just sat down on a lawn chair, when a letter that had arrived by post was brought her by Laura.

As yet, Mrs. Calverley had said nothing to her lady’s-maid about the restoration of the will, as she thought it best to leave that matter in doubt for the present, and she now allowed her to depart without any allusion to the subject. Indeed, she was dying to read her letter, which she saw was from Lord Courland.

It was just such a letter as might have been expected from him, but there were some passages in it that produced an effect contrary to that intended by her noble suitor, and heightened her uneasiness.

“I must write you a line, dearest Teresa,” he began, “though I have nothing to say, except to tell you how supremely wretched I feel now you are gone. However, I try to console myself by the thought that I shall soon behold you again, and in your own house, which I long so much to see – as it will be my abode when I am made the happiest of mortals by the possession of your hand.

“I have to thank Mr. Calverley for two things – first, that he was considerate enough to die; and secondly, that he left his large property at your entire disposal. I shall always entertain the highest respect for his memory.

“This may seem rather heartless jesting, sweet Teresa, but it is the simple expression of my feelings. Really, very few men would have behaved so well as your late husband, but he fully appreciated you. I wish I could follow his example – not by quitting you, for I don’t intend to do that, if I can help it, for many years to come – but by making a handsome settlement upon you.

“Fortunately, you have enough – enough for us both – and I cannot sufficiently thank you for your kind promises. My devotion shall prove my gratitude. Ouselcroft, you tell me, is a charming place, and I ought not to accept it, or any share in it; but I can refuse nothing you offer me – not even that priceless treasure, yourself.

“I do not ask you to write to me, though one word would enchant me, and enable me to endure this separation.

“Adieu, sweet Teresa! I shall count the minutes till we meet.”

The perusal of this letter gave Mrs. Calverley infinitely more pain than pleasure, for she now feared she should never be able to carry out her noble suitor’s wishes, and she saw plainly that he would not be content with the income derived from her settlement.

She read the letter again, and this conviction struck her even more forcibly on the second perusal.

She revolved the matter in her mind very deliberately.

What could she do?

Dark thoughts possessed her. There seemed only one way of extricating herself from the difficulty. She shrank from it; but it recurred again and again, till she became F=familiarised with the idea, and it appeared less dreadful than at first.

The step seemed unavoidable.

She resolved to answer Lord Courland’s letter, but very briefly, and to make no allusion to her promises to him, though he seemed to expect it.

She was still buried in thought when Laura came to her, and with the familiarity which this favourite attendant usually displayed, said:

“Dear me, ma’am, you look dreadfully pale! I hope nothing has gone wrong?”

“Nothing whatever,” replied Mrs. Calverley, with a forced smile. “I have had a most charming letter from Lord Courland. But I feel rather faint. The air doesn’t seem to revive me, so I shall go in-doors.” And she arose.

“I came to tell you, ma’am,” said Laura, “that old Norris is greatly obliged by your kind promise to him. He says he now feels quite easy.”

“There was no need to trouble himself before,” observed Mrs. Oalverley. “By-the-bye, I haven’t told you that the will has been found.”

“Indeed, ma’am! Where?” exclaimed Laura.

“In the top drawer of the escritoire!”

“I’m sure I searched that drawer, ma’am!”

“Mr. Carteret found it at once. But don’t say anything more about it. I don’t want the matter talked about. By-the-bye, I mean to drive over to Brackley in the pony-carriage this afternoon, and shall take you with me.”

“I’m always pleased with a drive, ma’am, especially to Brackley,” replied Laura.

As they entered the house, they met the aged butler, who bowed respectfully to his mistress.

“Much obliged to you for thinking of me, ma’am,” he said. “You’ve always shown me great kindness.”

“Not more than you deserve, Norris,” she replied graciously. “It was quite a misapprehension, I assure you. I never intended to part with you, and should never think of doing so without making you a comfortable provision.”

“I’d rather stay where I am, ma’am,” replied the butler. “After living in it for half a century, a man gets attached to a house.”

“Then rest easy, Norris,” she rejoined. “You shall stay here to the last – that I promise you.”

The old butler muttered his thanks, for he felt rather husky, and Mrs. Calverley went up-stairs to her own room.

V. SHOWING WHAT MRS. CALVERLEY’S DRESSING-BOX CONTAINED

After closing the door, Mrs. Calverley approached the large Psyche that stood opposite her, and ejaculated, “No wonder Laura was struck by my appearance! I do look frightfully pale! I must take care my looks don’t betray me.”

But her countenance assumed a deathly hue, and her limbs seemed scarcely able to support her as she moved towards the door communicating with, the dressing-room.

There she stopped, her entrance, apparently, being barred by a shadowy figure resembling her dead husband.

But Teresa, as we have shown, was a woman of high courage, and not to be daunted by superstitious fears.

Convinced that the figure was a mere effect of her imagination, she passed into the inner room, and then, standing still for a moment till she had quite recovered her self-possession, proceeded to unlock a large dressing-box that stood upon the toilet-table, and took from it a small casket apparently containing scent bottles.

When the casket, in its turn, was unlocked by a diminutive and peculiarly-shaped key, four very small phials were disclosed.

Teresa selected one of them, filled, as it seemed, with a very bright spirit, held it up for a moment, and then, taking out the stopper, breathed at the contents of the phial.

Just then a slight noise disturbed her, and she became aware that she was watched by Laura, who was standing at the bed-room door.

Though appalled at the sight, she exhibited no sign of alarm, but with the utmost coolness said:

“I thought some eau-de-luce would do me good. I always take it for the migraine from which I am now suffering. But you need not stay. Order the pony-carriage in half an hour, and be ready yourself by that time, Laura.”

Not for an instant doubting the truth of what she was told, Laura withdrew; and she was no sooner gone than Mrs. Calverley wrapped the small phial in her embroidered pocket-handkerchief, and then replaced the casket, and carefully locked the dressing-box.

VI. POISON IN THE CUP

Half an hour later, Mrs. Calverley, who had completely recovered, and, indeed, looked remarkably well, drove over to Brackley in the pony-carriage, attended by Laura and a groom.

The two girls were in the garden when she arrived at the Hall, but Lady Barfleur, who was much impressed by the brilliant engagement Mrs. Calverly had formed, received her with great ceremony.

“Accept my congratulations, dear Mrs. Calverley!” she said. “I felt sure you would marry well, but I did not expect you would make such a great match as this. You are fortunate in every respect, it seems, for Emmeline tells me Lord Courland is exceedingly good-looking and agreeable. I hope he may like Ouselcroft. I should be very sorry if you left this part of the country.”

“Don’t be alarmed, dear Lady Barfleur,” rejoined Mrs. Calverley. “I should never think of leaving Ouselcroft, and I am persuaded Lord Courland will be pleased with the place. I expect him on Thursday.”

“You must all come and dine with me during his stay. I don’t give dinners now, as you know, but I must see him.”

“He will be delighted to dine with you, I am sure. But I must bring him over some morning to see the old Hall.”

“By all means,” replied Lady Barfleur. “You will always be welcome.”

Here the two girls came in fresh from the garden. Emmeline looked blooming and full of spirits, but Mildred complained of slight indisposition, and, in fact, did not seem very well.

Mrs. Calverley noticed these symptoms with secret satisfaction. They favoured her dark design.

“You seem rather poorly this morning, my love,” she said.

“I am a little out of sorts,” replied Mildred. “I think I caught cold on the journey. But I shall soon be better.”

“Better when a certain person arrives,” whispered Emmeline. “Well, he will be here this evening, or to-morrow at latest. Don’t fall ill before he comes!”

“Unfeeling creature!” exclaimed Mildred, with a sickly smile.

Just then, the luncheon-bell was rung, and the ladies proceeded to the dining-room.

It might have been noticed – if such a trifling circumstance could attract attention – that Mrs. Calverley carried her embroidered kerchief in her hand.

While they were crossing the hall, the Reverend Mr. Massey made his appearance, and after saluting Lady Barfleur and the others, went in with them to luncheon.

As they took their seats at table, Mrs. Calverley easily managed to get a place next her step-daughter.

Some little progress had been made with the repast, which it is supposed ladies enjoy more than dinner, when Emmeline remarked:

“You must let us have some champagne to-day, mamma, please. Mildred is rather out of spirits.”

The proposition was seconded by the chaplain, who was always exceedingly cheerful, and had been conversing very agreeably with Lady Barfleur. So the wine was brought and handed round by the butler.

“You must not refuse, Mildred,” cried Emmeline. “The champagne was ordered expressly for you.”

“And for me,” added the chaplain, laughing.

“For you as well,” said Emmeline. “You are entitled to a second glass.”

Even as the words were spoken, with singular boldness and dexterity, and screened by the handkerchief, Mrs. Calverley contrived to let fall two or three poisonous drops from the phial into Mildred’s glass.

The action passed completely unnoticed, Mildred’s attention being diverted at the moment.

No peculiarity was perceptible in the flavour of the champagne. It seemed excellent, and really believing the exhilarating wine would do her good, Mildred emptied the glass.

In answer to a friendly sign from the chaplain, Mrs. Calverley raised the glass to her lips, but her handkerchief had disappeared.

The enlivening effect of the wine on the party was speedily apparent – except in the instance of Mildred, who began to feel ill, and was obliged to rise from table, and leave the room.

Mrs. Calverley, who seemed greatly concerned, and was very attentive to her, wished her to see Doctor Spencer, but she declined, insisting that it was a mere passing indisposition.

Emmeline was of the same opinion, but Rose Hartley, who bad been summoned to attend her, thought otherwise, and prevailed on her to retire to her own room.

By this time, she had become so faint, that Rose had to assist her to mount the spiral staircase.

To disarm suspicion, Mrs. Calverley remained for an hour, conversing with Lady Barfleur and Mr. Massey, and played her part to perfection – charming them both.

Before setting out on her return, she went up-stairs to see Mildred, and found her lying on a couch with Emmeline and Rose by her side. The glow of the painted glass in the bay-window somewhat disguised the sufferer’s paleness.

No touch of pity agitated Teresa’s breast as she gazed at her victim. On the contrary, she secretly exulted in the success of her direful attempt. Nevertheless, she inquired with well-feigned solicitude:

“How do you feel now, my love?”

“Somewhat better, I think, mamma,” replied Mildred.

“I am so glad to hear you say so!” remarked Mrs. Calverley. “I hoped to take you and Emmeline back with me to Ouselcroft, but that is quite out of the question now.”

“Quite, ma’am,” observed Rose. “I think Miss Calverley ought to have medical advice.”

“So do I,” rejoined Teresa. “Shall I send for Doctor Spencer, my love?”

“No, mamma,” replied Mildred. “If he comes, I shall be laid up for a week, as I know from sad experience. You recollect how tiresome he was during my last illness, and wouldn’t let me stir. I won’t have him now, unless I’m obliged.”

“Better let her have her own away,” whispered Emmeline, unconscious that she was playing into Mrs. Calverley’s hands. “She wants to see a certain person on his arrival here.”

“Well, you mustn’t blame me if any harm ensues,” rejoined Teresa. “I really think she ought to have immediate advice.”

Rose looked imploringly at her, but did not venture to remonstrate.

“Well, I shall come over to-morrow morning,” said Mrs. Calverley; “and then – ”

“What then?” asked Mildred, faintly.

“I shall go and fetch Doctor Spencer myself, unless you contrive to get well in the interim. However, I shall feel easy about you, knowing you’re in good hands.”

“Yes; Rose and I will take every care of her,” said Emmeline.

“Don’t bring Doctor Spencer, or send him, till you see me again, I beg, mamma,” said Mildred. “Promise me that.”

Mrs. Calverley gave the required promise, though with apparent reluctance.

As she bade her victim adieu, and kissed her fevered brow, Mildred instinctively recoiled from the contact of her lips.