Elster's Folly - Mrs. Henry Wood (top android ebook reader .TXT) 📗

The Amesbury March Past,  And We

Had A Long Chat About It.

 

      

 

 

 

 

July 21,  1882.

 

 

 

 

      

 

I Cannot Tell You How It Pleases Me That You Liked The Bit About

Aldershot In "Laetus." I Hope That It Must Have _Grated_ Very Much If I

Had Done It Badly Or Out Of Taste,  On Any One Who Knows It As Well As

You Do; And That Its Moving Your Sympathies Does Mean That I Have Done

It Pretty Well. I Cannot Tell You The Pains I Expended On It! All

Those Sentences About The Camp Were Written In Scraps And Corrected

For Sense And Euphony,  Etc.,  Etc.,  Bit By Bit,  Like "Jackanapes"!!!

Did I Tell You About "Tuck Of Drum"? Several People Who Saw The Proof,

Pitched Into Me,  "Never Heard Of Such An Expression." I Was Convinced

I Knew It,  And As I Said,  As A _Poetical_ Phrase; But I Could Not

Charge My Memory With The Quotatt Delicate In Health. Lord Hartledon Was

Grieved For His Accident,  And Helped To Nurse Him With The Best Heart

In The World.

 

And Now What Devilry (There Were People In Calne Who Called It Nothing

Less) The Old Countess-Dowager Set Afloat To Secure Her Ends I Am Unable

To Tell You. She Was A Perfectly Unscrupulous Woman--Poverty Had Rendered

Her Wits Keen; And Her Captured Lion Was Only Feebly Struggling To Escape

From The Net. He Was To Blame Also. Thrown Again Into The Society Of

Maude And Her Beauty,  Val Basked In Its Sunshine,  And Went Drifting Down

The Stream,  Never Heeding Where The Current Led Him. One Day The

Countess-Dowager Put It Upon His Honour--He Must Marry Maude. He Might

Have Held Out Longer But For A Letter That Came From Some Friend Of The

Dowager's Opportunely Located At Cannes; A Letter That Spoke Of The

Approaching Marriage Of Miss Ashton To Colonel Barnaby,  Eldest Son Of A

Wealthy Old Baronet,  Who Was Sojourning There With His Mother. No Doubt

Was Implied Or Expressed; The Marriage Was Set Forth As An Assured Fact.

 

"And I Believe You Meant To Wait For Her?" Said The Countess-Dowager,  As

She Put The Letter Into His Hand,  With A Little Laugh. "You Are Free Now

For My Darling Maude."

 

"This May Not Be True," Observed Lord Hartledon,  With Compressed Lips.

"Every One Knows What This Sort Of Gossip Is Worth."

 

"I Happen To Know That It Is True," Spoke Lady Kirton,  In A Whisper. "I

Have Known Of It For Some Time Past,  But Would Not Vex You With It."

 

Well,  She Convinced Him; And From That Moment Had It All Her Own Way,  And

Carried Out Her Plots And Plans According To Her Own Crafty Fancy. Lord

Hartledon Yielded; For The Ascendency Of Maude Was Strong Upon Him. And

Yet--And Yet--Whilst He Gave All Sorts Of Hard Names To Anne Ashton's

Perfidy,  Lying Down Deep In His Heart Was A Suspicion That The News Was

Not True. How He Hated Himself For His Wicked Assumption Of Belief In

After-Years!

 

"You Will Be Free As Air," Said The Dowager,  Joyously. "You And Maude

Shall Get Ahead Of Miss Ashton And Her Colonel,  And Have The Laugh At

Them. The Marriage Shall Be On Saturday,  And You Can Go Away Together For

Months If You Like,  And Get Up Your Spirits Again; I'm Sure You Have Both

Been Dull Enough."

 

Lord Hartledon Was Certainly Caught By The Words "Free As Air;" As He Had

Been Once Before. But He Stared At The Early Day Mentioned.

 

"Marriages Can't Be Got Up As Soon As That."

 

"They Can Be Got Up In A Day If People Choose,  With A Special License;

Which,  Of Course,  You Will Have," Said The Dowager. "I'll Arrange Things,

My Dear Val; Leave It All To Me. I Intend Maude To Be Married In The

Little Chapel."

 

"What Little Chapel?"

 

"Your Own Private Chapel."

 

Lord Hartledon Stared With All His Eyes. The Private Chapel,  Built Out

From The House On The Side Next Calne,  Had Not Been Used For Years And

Years.

 

"Why,  It's All Dust And Rust Inside; Its Cushions Moth-Eaten And Fallen

To Pieces."

 

"Is It All Dust And Rust!" Returned The Dowager. "That Shows How

Observant You Are. I Had It Put In Order Whilst You Were In London; It

Was A Shame To Let A Sacred Place Remain In Such A State. I Should Like

It To Be Used For Maude; And Mind,  I'll See To Everything; You Need Not

Give Yourself Any Trouble At All. There's Only One Thing I Must Enjoin

On You."

 

"What's That?"

 

"_Secrecy._ Don't Let A Hint Of Your Intentions Get Abroad. Whatever You

Do,  Don't Write A Word To That Carr Friend Of Yours; He's As Sharp As A

Two-Edged Sword. As Well Let Things Be Done Privately; It Is Maude's

Wish."

 

"I Shall Not Write To Him," Cried Hartledon,  Feeling A Sudden Heat Upon

His Face,  "Or To Any One Else."

 

"Here's Maude. Step This Way,  Maude. Hartledon Wants The Ceremony To Take

Place On Saturday,  And I Have Promised For You."

 

Lady Maude Advanced; She Had Really Come In By Accident; Her Head Was

Bent,  Her Eyelashes Rested On Her Flushed Cheeks. A Fair Prize; Very,

Very Fair! The Old Dowager Put Her Hand Into Lord Hartledon's.

 

"You Will Love Her And Cherish Her,  Percival?"

 

What Was The Young Man To Do? He Murmured Some Unintelligible Assent,  And

Bent Forward To Kiss Her. But Not Until That Moment Had He Positively

Realized The Fact That There Would Be Any Marriage.

 

Time Went On Swimmingly Until The Saturday,  And Everything Was In

Progress. The Old Dowager Deserved To Be Made Commander Of A Garrison For

Her Comprehensive Strategy,  The Readiness And Skill She Displayed In

Carrying Out Her Arrangements. For What Reason,  Perhaps She Could Not

Have Explained To Herself; But An Instinct Was Upon Her That Secrecy In

All Ways Was Necessary; At Any Rate,  She Felt Surer Of Success Whilst

It Was Maintained. Hence Her Decision In Regard To The Unused Little

Chapel; And That This One Particular Portion Of The Project Had Been Long

Floating In Her Mind Was Proved By The Fact That She Had Previously

Caused The Chapel To Be Renovated. But That It Was To Serve Her Own Turn,

She Would Have Let It Remain Choked Up With Dust For Ever.

 

The Special License Had Arrived; The Young Clergyman Who Was To Perform

The Service Was Located At Hartledon. Seven O'clock Was The Hour Fixed

For The Marriage: It Would Be Twilight Then,  And Dinner Over. Immediately

Afterwards The Bride And Bridegroom Were To Depart. So Far,  So Good. But

Lady Kirton Was Not To Have It Quite Her Own Way On This Same Saturday,

Although She Had Enjoyed It Hitherto.

 

A Rumour Reached Her Ears In The Afternoon That Dr. Ashton Was At The

Rectory. The Doctor Had Been Spending Easter At Cannes,  And The Dowager

Had Devoutly Prayed That He Might Not Yet Return. The News Turned Her

Cheeks Blue And Yellow; A Prevision Rushing Over Her That If He And Lord

Hartledon Met There Might Be No Wedding After All. She Did Her Best To

Keep Lord Hartledon Indoors,  And The Fact Of The Rector's Return From

Him.

 

Now Who Is Going To Defend Lord Hartledon? Not You Or I. More Foolish,

More Culpable Weakness Was Never Shown Than In Thus Yielding To These

Schemes. Though Ensnared By Maude's Beauty,  That Was No Excuse For Him.

 

An Accident--Or What May Be Called One--Delayed Dinner. Two County

Friends Of Hartledon's,  Jolly Fox-Hunters In The Season,  Had Come Riding

A Long Way Across Country,  And Looked In To Beg Some Refreshment. The

Dowager Fumed,  And Was Not Decently Civil; But She Did Not See Her Way To

Turning Them Out.

 

They Talked And Laughed And Ate; And Dinner Was Indefinitely Prolonged.

When The Dowager And Lady Maude Rose From Table The Former Cast A Meaning

Look At Lord Hartledon. "Get Rid Of Them As Soon As You Can," It Plainly

Said.

 

But The Fox-Hunters Liked Good Drinking As Well As Good Eating,  And Sat

On,  Enjoying Their Wine; Their Host,  One Of The Most Courteous Of Living

Men,  Giving No Sign,  By Word Or Look,  That He Wished For Their Departure.

He Was Rather Silent,  They Observed; But The Young Clergyman,  Who Made

The Fourth At The Table,  Was Voluble By Nature. Captain Kirton Had Not

Yet Left His Sick Bed.

 

Lady Maude Sat Alone In Her Room; The White Robes Upon Her,  The Orthodox

Veil,  Meant To Shade Her Fair Face Thrown Back From It. She Had Sent Away

Her Attendants,  Bolted The Door Against Her Mother,  And Sat Waiting Her

Summons. Waiting And Thinking. Her Cheek Rested On Her Hand,  And Her

Eyes Were Dreamy.

 

Is It True That Whenever We Are About To Do An Ill Or Unjust Deed A

Shadow Of The Fruits It Will Bring Comes Over Us As A Warning? Some

People Will Tell You So. A Vision Of The Future Seemed To Rest On Maude

Kirton As She Sat There; And For The First Time All The Injustice Of The

Approaching Act Rose In Her Mind As A Solemn Omen. The True Facts Were

Terribly Distinct. Her Own Dislike (It Was Indeed No Less Than Dislike)

Of The Living Lord,  Her Lasting Love For The Dead One. All The Miserable

Stratagems They Had Been Guilty Of To Win Him; The Dishonest Plotting And

Planning. What Was She About To Do? For Her Own Advancement,  To Secure

Herself A Position In The Great World,  And Not For Love,  She Was About To

Separate Two Hearts,  Which But For Her Would Have Been United In This

World And The Next. She Was Thrusting Herself Upon Lord Hartledon,

Knowing That In His True Heart It Was Another That He Loved,  Not Her.

Yes,  She Knew That Full Well. He Admired Her Beauty,  And Was Marrying

Her; Marrying Partly In Pique Against Anne Ashton; Partly In Blindfold

Submission To The Deep Schemes Of Her Mother,  Brought To Bear On His

Yielding Nature. All The Injustice Done To Anne Ashton Was In That Moment

Beating Its Refrain Upon Her Heart; And A Thought Crossed Her--Would God

Not Avenge It? Another Time She Might Have Smiled At The Thought As

Fanciful: It Seemed Awfully Real Now. "I Might Give Val Up Yet," She

Murmured; "There's Just Time."

 

She Did Not Act Upon The Suggestion. Whether It Was Her Warning,  Or

Whether It Was Not,  She Allowed It To Slip From Her. Hartledon's Broad

Lands And Coronet Resumed Their Fascination Over Her Soul; And When Her

Door Was Tried,  Lady Maude Had Lost Herself In That Famous Spanish

Chateau We Have All Occupied On Occasion,  Touching The Alterations She

Had Mentally Planned In Their Town-House.

 

"Goodness,  Maude,  What Do You Lock Yourself In For?"

 

Maude Opened The Door,  And The Countess-Dowager Floundered In. She Was

Resplendent In One Of Her Old Yellow Satin Gowns,  A White Turban With A

Silver Feather,  And A Pink Scarf Thrown On For Ornament. The Colours

Would No Doubt Blend Well By Candlelight.

 

"Come,  Maude. There's No Time To Be Lost."

 

"Are The Men Gone?"

 

"Yes,  They Are Gone; No Thanks To Hartledon,  Though. He Sat Mooning On,

Never Giving Them The Least Hint To Depart. Priddon Told Me So. I'll Tell

You What It Is,  Maude,  You'll Have To Shake Your Husband Out Of No End Of

Ridiculous Habits."

 

"It Is Growing Dark," Exclaimed Maude,  As She Stepped Into The Corridor.

 

"Dark! Of Course It's Dark," Was The Irascible Answer; "And They Have Had

To Light Up The Chapel,  Or Priddon Couldn't Have Seen To Read His Book.

And All Through Those Confounded Fox-Hunters!"

 

Lord Hartledon Was Not In The Drawing-Room,  Where Lady Kirton Had Left

Him Only A Minute Before; And She Looked Round Sharply.

 

"Has He Gone On To The Chapel?" She Asked Of The Young Clergyman.

 

"No,  I Think Not," Replied Mr. Priddon,  Who Was Already In His

Canonicals. "Hedges Came In And Said Something To Him,  And They Went Out

Together."

 

A Minute Or Two Of Impatience--She Was In No Mood To Wait Long--And Then

She Rang The Bell. It Should Be Remarked That The Old Lady,  Either From

Excitement Or Some Apprehension Of Failure,  Was Shaking And Jumping As If

She Had St. Vitus's Dance. Hedges Came In.

 

"Where's Your Master?" She Tartly Asked.

 

"With Mr. Carr,  My Lady."

 

"With Mr.--What Did You Say?"

 

"My Lord Is With Mr. Carr. He Has Just Arrived."

 

A Moment Given To Startled Consternation And Then The Fury Broke Forth.

The Young Parson Had Never Had The Pleasure Of Seeing One Of These

War-Dances Before,  And Backed Against The Wall In His Starched Surplice.

 

"What Brings Him Here? How Dare He Come Uninvited?"

 

"I Heard Him Say,  My Lady,  That Finding He Had A Sunday To Spare,  He

Thought He Would Come And Pass It At Hartledon," Said The Well-Trained

Hedges.

 

Ere The Words Had Left His Lips Lord Hartledon And Mr. Carr Were Present;

The Latter In A State