Читать книгу: «Cursed by a Fortune», страница 13
Chapter Twenty Nine
Kate Wilton looked at the woman in horror.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah continued, “there it was, and when I opened the door I could only get it a little way, for something was just inside, and as I stood there trembling, there came out a nasty wet smell of gunpowder, just as if water had been upset on the hob.
“I didn’t want any telling, ma’am; I knew, and poor Becky knew, that master had shot himself with something and was lying there.
“I waited for just about a minute, ma’am, for my senses seemed to be quite gone, and I was as bad as poor Becky; but I got to be a little sensible soon, and began to feel that I must do something. I called to Becky to come and help me, but it was no use; she was just as if she was stunned, and could only stare at me, shivering all the while. So I felt that I must do what there was to do myself, and I went back to the door, and pushed and pushed till I could just squeeze myself through the narrow slit I made; and then I dursen’t look round, but stood with my back to it for ever so long before I could feel that he might be alive, and that I ought to go for the doctor.
“I looked round then, feeling as I turned that I should be obliged to shriek out, but I didn’t. Poor master, he was lying on his side, with his hand under his head, just quiet and calm, as if he had only gone to sleep. It made me wonder what I had been frightened at, and I went down on one knee and took the hand which was by his side, touching a pistol.”
“Yes?” said Kate, breathlessly, for the woman paused.
“Yes, ma’am, it was quite cold. He must have shot himself early in the night, and I knew it was no good to go to fetch a doctor then. Leastwise I think that’s what I felt, for I didn’t go, but crept out very softly and shut the door; and then I took hold of poor Becky’s arm and led her down to the kitchen, where she went off into a dead faint, and came to, and fainted over again – fit after fit, so that I was busy for hours and didn’t know how time went, till all at once there was a double knock at the door, which I knew was Mr Garstang come.
“I went up and let him in, and he looked at me so strange.
“‘What is it?’ he said; ‘your master?’
“‘Yes, sir,’ I says, ‘and I was to show you in as soon as you came.’
“He nodded, and went up at once, neither of us saying another word. Then he went in through the door gently, and came out again, looking horribly shocked.
“‘When did you find him?’ he says; and I told him. ‘Poor fellow!’ he says, ‘I am not surprised. Sarah Plant, you must go and tell the police;’ and I did, and there was an inquest, and at last the poor old master was to be buried, with only Mr Garstang to follow him, for he had no relations or friends.
“I sat in my bit of noo black, and Becky just opposite me, waiting while they’d gone to the cemetery, for no one asked me to go, and I sat there looking at Becky, who began crying as she heard them carrying the coffin downstairs and never stopped all that time. And I thought to myself, ‘We two will have to go out into the world, and nobody won’t take us with poor Becky like that;’ and my heart was so full, miss – ma’am, that I began to cry, too; but I’m afraid it was for myself, not for poor master. Last of all, the carriage came back, and I let Mr Garstang in, looking terribly cut up.
“‘Bring me a little tea, Sarah,’ he says, and I went and got it, and had a cup, too, wanting it as I did badly, and by-and-by he rung for me to fetch the tray.
“I got to the door with it, when he calls me back.
“‘Sarah,’ he says, ‘your poor master has no relations left, and by the papers I hold, everything comes to me.’
“‘Yes, sir; so I s’posed,’ I says to him, ‘and you want me and Becky to go at once.’
“He looked at me with that nice soft smile of his, and he says, ‘Why should you think that? No,’ he says, ‘I want everything to stay just as it is; I won’t have a thing moved, and I should be very glad if you and Becky would stay and keep the house for me.’
“I couldn’t answer him, ma’am, for I was crying bitterly; but I knew him, what a good man he was, and that me and Becky had found a friend. Seven years ago, ma’am, and never an unkind word from him when he came, which wasn’t often. He only told me not to gossip about the place, and I said I wouldn’t, and never did till I talked to you, ma’am, and as for poor Becky, she never speaks to no one. Perhaps, ma’am, you’d like to come upstairs, and see the marks.”
“See the marks?” stammered Kate.
“Yes, ma’am, where old master lay. You’ve never been in the little lib’ry, but if you like I’ll show you now. There’s only a little rug to move, and there it is, quite plain.”
“No, no, I do not wish to see,” said Kate, shuddering. “So there has been a terrible tragedy here?”
“Yes, ma’am, and that’s what makes the place so dull and still. I often fancy I can see poor old master gliding about the staircase and passages; but it’s all fancy, of course.”
“All fancy, of course,” said Kate, softly. “But it is very terrible for such a thing to have happened here.”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s what I often think; and there’s been times when I’m low-spirited; and you know there are times when one does get like that Becky’s enough to make anyone dumpy, at the best of times, ’specially towards night, when she’s sitting there with her face tied up and her eyes staring and looking toward the door, as if she fancied she was going to see master come in; for she will believe in ghosts, and it’s no use to try to stop her. Ah, she’s a great trial, ma’am.”
“Poor girl!” said Kate.
“Thankye, ma’am. It’s very good of you to say so,” sighed the woman; “and it is nice to have a lady here to talk to. It’s quite altered the place. There have been times, and many of them, when I felt that I must take poor Becky away and get another situation, but it would be ungrateful to new master, who’s a dear good man, and never an unkind word since with him I’ve been. It isn’t everyone who’d keep a servant with a girl like Becky about the house. But he never seems to mind, being a busy man, and I s’pose he must see that the only way in which Becky’s happy is in cleaning and polishing things. I believe if she woke up in the middle of the night and remembered that she hadn’t dusted something she’d want to get up and do it; and she would, too, if she dared. But go about the house in the middle of the night without me, ma’am? No; wild horses wouldn’t drag her.”
Sarah Plant ceased speaking, for she suddenly woke to the fact that Kate was gazing at the fire, with her thoughts evidently far away; and the woman stole softly from the room. But as the door clicked faintly Kate started and looked about her, half disposed to call her back, for the narrative she had heard made her position seem terribly lonely.
She restrained herself, though, and sat trying to think and turn the current of her thoughts, telling herself that she had no cause for anxiety save on Eliza’s account. For Garstang could not have been more fatherly and considerate to her. His words, too, were wise and right. To let her uncle know where she was must result in scenes that would be stormy and violent; and she determined at last to let herself be guided entirely by her self-constituted guardian.
“Yes, he is right. He is all that is kind and fatherly in his way, and I, too, should be ungrateful if I murmured against my position. It will not be for long. In less than two years I shall be of age, and fully my own mistress.”
She paused to think, for a doubt arose.
Would she be her own mistress? She had heard her father’s will read, but it was at a time when she was distracted with grief, and save that she grasped that she was heiress to a large fortune, which was to remain invested in her father’s old bank, she knew comparatively nothing as to the control her uncle possessed. Yes; she recalled that he was sole executor and guardian until she married.
“And I shall never marry,” she sighed; but as the words were breathed, scenes at the old Manor came back; the pleasant little intimacy with Jenny Leigh, her praise of her brother, and that brother’s manly, kindly attentions to his patient, his skill having achieved so much in bringing her back to health.
Yes, he had always been the attentive, courteous physician, and neither word nor look had intimated that he was anything else; but these things are a mystery beyond human control, and as Kate Wilton sat and thought, it was with Pierce Leigh present with her in spirit, and she felt startled; for the tell-tale blood was mantling her cheeks, and she hurriedly rose to do something to change the current of her thoughts.
“Poor Mr Garstang,” she said, softly; “he shall not find me ungrateful. He, too, has suffered. If he had had a daughter like this!”
She recalled his words, evidently not intended for her ears. Wifeless – childless – wealthy, and yet solitary.
Her heart warmed towards him, and she was ready to call herself selfish for intruding her wishes upon one whose sole thought seemed to be to protect her and make her life peaceful.
“He shall not find me selfish,” she said to herself, “and I will be guided by him and do what he thinks right.”
She went out into the solemn-looking hall and began to ascend the great staircase, taking a fresh interest in the place, which seemed now as if it would be her home perhaps for months. The pictures and statues interested her, and she paused before a cabinet of curious old china, partly to try and admire, partly to think of how ignorant she was of all these matters, and a few minutes after, found herself close to the heavy curtain, beyond which was the door leading into the little library.
A strange thrill ran through her, and she turned to hurry into her own room, with her cheeks growing pale. But the blood flowed back, and with a feeling of self-contempt she walked straight to the curtain, drew it aside, passed through an archway, and turned the handle of a door. This opened upon a passage, whose walls were covered with venerable looking books, a dim skylight above showing the faded leather and worn gilding upon their backs. There was another door at the end, and as the woman’s narrative forced itself back to her attention there was a fresh thrill which chilled her; but she went on firmly, opened the door, and passed through to find herself in the first of two rooms connected by a broad opening dimly lit by a stained-glass window, and completely covered with books, all old and evidently treasures of a collector.
Once more she shuddered, for she was standing upon one of several small Persian rugs dotted about the dark polished floor, and from the woman’s description she knew that she must be where the former owner of the house had lain dead.
But the sensation of dread was momentary, and the warm flush of life came back to her cheeks as she said softly:
“What is there to fear?” and then found herself repeating:
“‘There is no Death! What seems so is transition;
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suburb of the life elysian
Whose portal we call Death.’
“Oh, father – father!” she moaned softly; “but I am so lonely without you;” and she sank into a chair, to weep bitterly.
The tears brought relief and firmness, and drying her eyes, she went slowly from room to room, thinking of him who had once trod those boards – a sad and solitary man.
Somehow her thoughts brought her back to Garstang, who seemed so noble and chivalrous in his conduct to her, and how that he, too, was a sad and solitary man, for she had heard in the past that his marriage had proved unhappy.
A few minutes later, when she let the curtain drop behind her, and stood once more on the staircase, a change had come over her, and in spite of the slight redness and moisture remaining in her eyes, she looked brighter and more at rest, till she caught a glimpse of a strangely wild pair of staring eyes gazing at her from one of the dark doorways in horror and wonder, till their owner grasped the fact that she was observed, and fled.
“Poor Becky!” thought Kate, as she smiled sadly? “I must try and make friends with her now.”
Chapter Thirty
The days passed calmly enough with Kate Wilton, and no more was said on either side about communicating with anyone. Garstang was there at breakfast, and left till dinner time, when he returned punctually.
Kate read and worked, and waited for him to speak, striving the while by her manner to let her guardian see that she was trying to show her gratitude to him for all that he had done. And so a fortnight glided by, and then, unable to bear it longer, she determined to question him.
That evening Garstang came in looking weary and careworn. There was evidently some trouble on the way, and as she rose to meet him she felt that she must not speak that night, for her new guardian had cares enough of his own to deal with.
But he began at once as he took her hands, smiling gravely as he looked in her eyes.
“Well, my poor little prisoner,” he said, half-banteringly, “aren’t you utterly worn out, and longing, little bird, to begin beating your breast against the bars of your cage?”
“No,” she said, gently; “I am getting used to it now.”
“Brave little bird!” he said, raising both her hands to his lips and kissing them, before letting them fall; “then I shall come back some evening and hear you warbling once again. I have not heard you sing since the last evening I spent in Bedford Square long months ago.”
He saw her countenance change, and he went on hastily:
“By the way, has Sarah Plant bought everything for you that you require?”
“Oh, yes,” she said; “far more.”
“That’s right. I am so ignorant about such matters. Pray do not hesitate to give her orders. Do you know,” he continued, as he sat down and began to warm his hands, gazing the while with wrinkled brow at the fire, “I have been doing something to-day in fear and trembling.”
“Indeed?” she said, anxiously.
“Yes,” he said, thoughtfully, as he took up the poker and began to softly tap pieces of unburned coal into glowing holes. “My conscience has been smiting me horribly about you, my child. I come back after fidgeting all day about your being so lonely and dull, with nothing but those serious books about you – by the way, did they send in that parcel from the library?”
“Yes. Thank you for being so thoughtful about me, Mr Garstang.”
“Oh, nonsense! But I think, my child, we could get rid of that formal Mr Garstang. Do you think you could call me guardian, little maid?”
“Yes, guardian,” she said, smiling at him, as he turned to look at her anxiously.
“Hah! Come, that’s better,” he cried; and he set down the poker and rubbed his hands softly, as he gazed once more thoughtfully at the fire. “That sounds more as if you felt at home, and I shall dare to tell you what I have done. You see, I have been obliged to beg of you not to go out for a bit without me, and I have not liked to propose taking you of an evening to any place of entertainment – not a theatre, of course yet awhile, but a concert, say.”
“Oh no, Mr Garstang!” she said, hastily, with the tears coming to her eyes.
He coughed, and looked at her in a perplexed way.
“Oh no, guardian,” she said, smiling sadly.
“Hah! that’s better. Of course not; of course not. Forgive me for even referring to it. But er – you will not feel hurt at what I have done?”
She looked at him anxiously.
“Yes,” he said, speaking as if he had been suddenly damped. “I ought not to have done it yet. It will seem as if I were making it appear that you will have to stop some time.”
“What have you done?” asked Kate, gravely.
“Well, my child, I know how musical you used to be, and as I was passing the maker’s to-day the thought struck me that you would like a piano. ‘It would make the place less dull for her,’ I said, and – don’t be hurt, my dear – I – I told him to send a good one in.”
“Mr Garstang! – guardian!” she said, starting up, with the tears now beginning to fall.
“There, there, fought to have known better,” he cried, catching up the poker, and beginning to use it hurriedly. “Men are so stupid. Don’t take any notice, my dear. I’ll counter-order it.”
“No, no,” she said gently, as she advanced to him and held out her hand “I am not hurt; I am pleased and grateful.”
“You are – really?” he cried, letting the poker drop, and catching her hand in his.
“Of course I am,” she said, simply. “How could I be otherwise? Don’t think me so thoughtless, and that I do not feel deeply all your kindness.”
“Kindness, nonsense!” he said, dropping her hand again, and turning away. “But will it help to make the time pass better?”
“Yes, I shall be very glad to have it.”
“And, er – you’ll sing and play to me sometimes when I come back here?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling through her tears; “and I would to-night, now that you have come back tired and careworn, if it were here.”
“Tired and careworn? Who is?”
“You are. Do you think I could not see?”
He looked at her with his eyes full of admiration, and then turned to the fire again.
“I am most grateful, guardian,” she said. “But shall I have to be a prisoner long?”
“Hah!” he said with a sigh, and as if not hearing her question, “you are right, my child. I have had a very, very worrying day.”
“I thought so,” said Kate, resuming her seat, and looking at him in a commiserating way. “I hope it is nothing very serious.”
“Serious?” he said, turning to her, sharply. “Well, yes it is, but I ought not to worry you about it.”
“They say that sometimes relief comes in speaking of our troubles.”
“But suppose one gets relief, and the other pain?” he said, looking at her quickly.
“Then it is something about me?”
He turned and looked at the fire again.
“Please tell me, guardian,” she said.
“Only make you unhappy, my dear, just when you are getting back to your old self.”
She looked at him in a troubled way for some moments, and then with a sudden outburst:
“You have seen Uncle James?”
He did not answer for a while, but sat gazing at the fire.
“Yes,” he said, at last; “I have seen your Uncle James.”
“And he knows I am here,” she cried, clasping her hands, and looking at him in horror.
He turned slowly and met her eyes.
“Then you don’t repent the step you have taken, and want to go back to Northwood?” he said.
“How could I when you have protected me as you have, and saved me from so much suffering and insult?”
“Hah!” he said, with a sigh of relief, “thank you, my child. I was afraid that you would be ready to return to him.”
“Mr Garstang!” she cried.
“Guardian.”
“Then, guardian, how could you think it? If I have seemed dull and unhappy, surely it was not strange, considering my position.”
“Of course not; but I was flattering myself with the belief that you were really getting reconciled to your fate.”
“I am reconciled,” said Kate, warmly; “but I can not help longing to take my old nurse by the hand again, and to see my friends.”
“Friends?” he said, looking at her curiously.
“Yes; I made two friends down there whose society was pleasant to me, and whom I have missed.”
“Indeed! I did not know.”
“But tell me, is uncle coming? Does he know I am here?” cried Kate, excitedly.
“No, he is not coming, my child, and he does not know you are here,” said Garstang, watching her searchingly.
“Ah!” ejaculated the girl, with a sigh of relief. “I could not – I dare not meet him.”
“That is what I felt. You can not meet him for some time to come, but there are unpleasant complications, my dear, which trouble me a great deal.”
“Yes?” said Kate, excitedly.
“Such as will, I fear, make it necessary for you to remain still secluded.”
“But, Mr Garstang, suppose that he should come to see you one day when you were out, and he were shown in to me.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, dryly, watching her troubled face narrowly, “what I once said: that would be awkward.”
“Oh, it would be horrible,” cried Kate, springing to her feet. “I could not go back with him. And he has a right to claim me, and he would insist.”
She began to pace the room excitedly, with her hands clasped before her.
“Yes, my child, it would be horrible,” said Garstang, gently, “and that is why, in spite of its giving you pain, I have been so particular lest by any letter of yours he should learn where you were.”
“But he might come as I said – to see you, in your absence,” she cried.
“No, my dear,” he said, reaching out one hand as she was passing the back of his chair; and she stopped at once, and placed hers trustingly within. “Don’t be alarmed. I am an old man of the world, and for years past I have had to set my wits to work to battle with other people’s. Uncle James does not know that you are here, and unless you tell him he is not likely to know, for the simple reason that he is not aware that I have such a place.”
Kate uttered a sigh of relief, and let her hand rest in his.
“Poor fellow, he is horribly disappointed, and he is leaving no stone unturned to trace you, and his hopeful son is helping him and watching me.”
“Oh!” ejaculated Kate, excitedly. “Yes, but they do not know of this place, and are keeping an eye upon my offices in Bedford Row and my house down in Kent. I little thought when my poor old friend and client died and this place fell to me that it would one day prove so useful. So there, try and stop this fluttering of the pulses, little maid; so long as we are careful, and you wish it, you can remain in sanctuary. Now let’s dismiss the tiresome business altogether. I am glad, though, that you are pleased about the piano.”
“No, no; don’t dismiss it yet,” cried Kate, eagerly. “Tell me what he said.”
“Humph!” said Garstang, frowning; “shall I? No; better not.”
“Yes, please; I can not help wanting to know.”
“But I’m afraid of upsetting you, my dear.”
“It will not now; I am growing firmer, Mr Garstang, my guardian,” she said. “Better tell me than leave me to think, and perhaps lie awake to-night imagining things that may not be true.”
“Well, yes – that would be bad,” he said, nodding his head. “There, sit down then, and draw your chair to the fender. Your face is burning, but your hands are cold. That’s better,” he continued, as he took up the poker again, and sat forward, gazing at the fire, and once more tapping the pieces of coal into the glowing caverns. “You see, he has been to me three times.”
“And I did not know!” cried Kate.
“No, you did not know, my dear, because I did not want to upset you. What do you think he says?”
“That I fled to you, and placed myself under your protection?”
“Wrong,” said Garstang, looking round and smiling in the beautiful face across the hearth, as he played the part of an amiable fatherly individual to perfection. “Shall I say guess again?”
“No, no, pray don’t trifle with me, guardian.”
“Trifle with you?” he cried, growing stern of aspect. “No. There, it must come out. He did not say that, and he did not accuse me of fetching you away, for he and Master Claud are upon a wrong scent.”
“Yes – yes,” said Kate, eagerly.
“They say that Harry Dasent made an excuse of his friendship with Claud to go down to Northwood with another object in view.”
“Yes – what?” she said, looking at him wonderingly.
“You, my child.”
“Me?” she cried, aghast.
“Well, to speak more correctly, your money, my dear; and that, despairing of winning you in a straightforward way, he either came and caught you in the humour for being persuaded to leave with him, having on his other visits paved the way by making love to you – ”
“Oh!” ejaculated Kate; “I never noticed anything particular in his manner to me – yes, I did, once or twice he was very, very attentive.”
“Indeed,” said Garstang, frowning.
“But you said ‘either,’” cried Kate, anxiously.
“Yes; either that he had persuaded you to elope with him, or he had climbed to your window and by some means forced you to come away.”
“What madness!” cried Kate.
“Yes, and there’s more behind; they accuse me of conniving at it, and say they are sure you are married, and that I know where you are.”
“Mr Dasent!” exclaimed Kate, gazing at Garstang wonderingly.
“Yes, Harry Dasent,” he said, drawing himself up. “He is my poor dead wife’s son, my dear, and it so happens that he is giving colour to the idea by his absence from home on one of his reckless, ne’er-do-weel expeditions; but between ourselves, my child, I’d rather see you married to Claud Wilton, your cousin, than to him; and,” he added warmly, “I think I would sooner follow you to your grave than – Yes – what is it?”
“I beg pardon, sir,” said the housekeeper, “but the dinner’s spoiling, and I’ve been waiting half an hour and more for you to ring.”
“Then bring it up directly, Mrs Plant, for we are terribly ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
“At least I am, my dear; I was faint for want of it when I came in. Shall we shelve the unpleasant business now?”
“It is so dreadful,” said Kate.
“Well, yes, it is; so it used to be with the poor folks who were besieged by the enemy. You are besieged, but you have a strong castle in which to defend yourself, and you can laugh your enemies to scorn. Really, Kate, my child, this is something like being cursed by a fortune.”
She nodded her head quickly.
“Money is useful, of course, and I once had a very eager longing to possess it; but, like a great many other things, when once it is possessed it is – well, only so much hard cash, after all. It won’t buy the love and esteem of your fellow-creatures. Do you know, my dear, if it were not for something I should be ready to say to you – ‘Let Uncle James have your paltry fortune and pay off his debts.’ That’s what he wants, not you. As for Claud, he’d break your heart in a month.”
“Could I deliver the money over to him?” said Kate, looking anxiously in her new guardian’s face.
“Oh, yes, my dear, that would be easy enough. And then – I tell you what: I have plenty, and I’m tired of the worry and care of a solicitor’s life. Why shouldn’t I take a few years’ holiday and go on the Continent with my adopted daughter and her old maid? Paris, Berlin, Vienna, Switzerland, Italy, Egypt – what would you say to that? It would be delightful.”
“Yes,” said Kate, eagerly, “and then I could be at rest. No,” she said, suddenly, with the colour once more rising in her cheeks, “that would be impossible.”
“Yes,” said Garstang, watching her narrowly, as she averted her face, to gaze now in the fire. “Castles in the air, my dear.”
“Yes,” she said, dreamily, “castles in the air;” but she was seeing golden castles in the glowing fire, and her face grew hotter as, in spite of herself, she peopled one of those golden castles in a peculiar way which made her pulses begin to flutter, and she felt that she dared not gaze in her companion’s face.
“Yes, castles in the air, my child,” said Garstang again. “For that fortune was amassed by your father for the benefit of his child and her husband, and she must not lightly throw it away to benefit a foolish, grasping, impecunious relative.”
“The dinner is served, sir,” said Mrs Plant.
Garstang rose and offered his arm, which Kate took at once.
“We may dismiss the unpleasant business now,” he said, with a smile.
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said.
“But tell me, you do feel satisfied and safe – at rest?”
“Quite,” she said, looking smilingly in his face.
“Then now for dinner,” he said, leading her to the door.
That evening John Garstang sat over his modest glass of wine alone, fitting together the pieces of his plans, and as he did so he smiled and seemed content.
“No,” he said, softly, “you will not pocket brother Robert’s money, friend James, for I hold the winning trump. What beautiful soft wax it is to mould! Only patience – patience! The fruit is not quite ripe yet. A hundred and fifty thou – a hundred and fifty thou!”
