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

Nephew Hartledon;" But That Was A Little Improvement Upon

The Actual Relationship,  For She And The Late Lady Hartledon Had Been

Cousins Only. She Invited Herself For A Week's Sojourn In May,  And Had

Never Gone Away Again; And It Was Now August. She Had Come Down With Him,

_Sans Ceremonie_,  To Hartledon; Had Told Him (As A Great Favour) That She

Would Look After His House And Guests During Her Stay,  As His Mother

Would Have Done. Easy,  Careless,  Good-Natured Hartledon Acquiesced,  And

Took It All As A Matter Of Course. To Him She Was Ever All Sweetness

And Suavity.

 

None Knew Better On Which Side Her Bread Was Buttered Than The

Countess-Dowager. She Liked It Buttered On Both Sides,  And Generally

Contrived To Get It.

 

She Had Come Down To Hartledon House With One Fixed Determination--That

She Did Not Quit It Until The Lady Maude Was Its Mistress. For A Long

While Maude Had Been Her Sole Hope. Her Other Daughters Had Married

According To Their Fancy--And What Had Come Of It?--But Maude Was

Different. Maude Had Great Beauty; And Maude,  Truth To Say,  Was Almost

As Selfishly Alive To Her Own Interest As Her Mother. _She_ Should Marry

Well,  And So Be In A Position To Shelter The Poor,  Homeless,  Wandering

Dowager. Had She Chosen From The Whole Batch Of Peers,  Not One Could Have

Been Found More Eligible Than He Whom Fortune Seemed To Have Turned Up

For Her Purpose--Lord Hartledon; And Before The Countess-Dowager Had Been

One Week His Guest In London She Began Her Scheming.

 

Lady Maude Was Nothing Loth. Young,  Beautiful,  Vain,  Selfish,  She Yet

Possessed A Woman's Susceptible Heart; Though Surrounded With Luxury,

Dress,  Pomp,  Show,  Which Are Said To Deaden The Feelings,  And In Some

Measure Do Deaden Them,  Lady Maude Insensibly Managed To Fall In Love,  As

Deeply As Ever Did An Obscure Damsel Of Romance. She Had First Met Him

Two Years Before,  When He Was Viscount Elster; Had Liked Him Then. Their

Relationship Sanctioned Their Being Now Much Together,  And The Lady Maude

Lost Her Heart To Him.

 

Would It Bring Forth Fruit,  This Scheming Of The Countess-Dowager's,  And

Maude's Own Love? In Her Wildest Hopes The Old Woman Never Dreamed Of

What That Fruit Would Be; Or,  Unscrupulous As She Was By Habit,  Unfeeling

By Nature,  She Might Have Carried Away Maude From Hartledon Within The

Hour Of Their Arrival.

 

Of The Three Parties More Immediately Concerned,  The Only Innocent

One--Innocent Of Any Intentions--Was Lord Hartledon. He Liked Maude Very

Well As A Cousin,  But Otherwise He Did Not Care For Her. They Might

Succeed--At Least,  Had Circumstances Gone On Well,  They Might Have

Succeeded--In Winning Him At Last; But It Would Not Have Been From Love.

His Present Feeling Towards Maude Was One Of Indifference; And Of

Marriage At All He Had Not Begun To Think.

 

Val Elster,  On The Contrary,  Regarded Maude With Warm Admiration. Her

Beauty Had Charms For Him,  And He Had Been Oftener At Her Side But For

The Watchful Countess-Dowager. It Would Have Been Horrible Had Maude

Fallen In Love With The Wrong Brother,  And The Old Lady Grew To Hate Him

For The Fear,  As Well As On Her Own Score. The Feeling Of Dislike,  Begun

In Val's Childhood,  Had Ripened In The Last Month Or Two To Almost Open

Warfare. He Was Always In The Way. Many A Time When Lord Hartledon Might

Have Enjoyed A _Tete-A-Tete_ With Maude,  Val Elster Was There To Spoil

It.

 

But The Culminating Point Had Arrived One Day,  When Val,  Half Laughingly,

Half Seriously,  Told The Dowager,  Who Had Been Provoking Him Almost

Beyond Endurance,  That She Might Spare Her Angling In Regard To Maude,

For Hartledon Would Never Bite. But That He Took His Pleasant Face Beyond

Her Reach,  It Might Have Suffered,  For Her Fingers Were Held Out

Alarmingly.

 

From That Time She Took Another Little Scheme Into Her Hands--That Of

Getting Percival Elster Out Of His Brother's Favour And His Brother's

House. Val,  On His Part,  Seriously Advised His Brother _Not_ To Allow The

Kirtons To Come To Hartledon; And This Reached The Ears Of The Dowager.

You May Be Sure It Did Not Tend To Soothe Her. Lord Hartledon Only

Laughed At Val,  Saying They Might Come If They Liked; What Did It Matter?

 

But,  Strange To Say,  Val Elster Was As A Very Reed In The Hands Of The

Old Woman. Let Her Once Get Hold Of Him,  And She Could Turn Him Any Way

She Pleased. He Felt Afraid Of Her,  And Bent To Her Will. The Feeling May

Have Had Its Rise Partly In The Fear Instilled Into His Boyhood,  Partly

In The Yielding Nature Of His Disposition. However That Might Be,  It Was

A Fact; And Val Could No More Have Openly Opposed The Resolute,

Sharp-Tongued Old Woman To Her Face Than He Could Have Changed His

Nature. He Rarely Called Her Anything But "Ma'am," As Their Nurse Had

Taught Him And His Brothers And Sisters To Do In Those Long-Past Years.

 

Before Eight O'clock The Guests Had All Assembled In The Drawing-Room,

Except The Countess-Dowager And Maude. Lord Hartledon Was Going About

Amongst Them,  Talking To One And Another Of The Beauties Of This,  His

Late Father's Place; Scarcely Yet Thought Of As His Own. He Was A Tall

Slender Man; In Figure Very Much Resembling Percival,  But Not In Face:

The One Was Dark,  The Other Fair. There Was Also The Same Indolent Sort

Of Movement,  A Certain Languid Air Discernible In Both; Proclaiming The

Undoubted Fact,  That Both Were Idle In Disposition And Given To Ennui.

There The Resemblance Ended. Lord Hartledon Had Nothing Of The

Irresolution Of Percival Elster,  But Was Sufficiently Decisive In

Character,  Prompt In Action.

 

A Noble Room,  This They Were In,  As Many Of The Rooms Were In The Fine

Old Mansion. Lord Hartledon Opened The Inner Door,  And Took Them Into

Another,  To Show Them The Portrait Of His Brother George--A Fine Young

Man Also,  With A Fair,  Pleasing Countenance.

 

"He Is Like Elster; Not Like You,  Hartledon," Cried A Young Man,  Whose

Name Was Carteret.

 

"_Was_,  You Mean,  Carteret," Corrected Lord Hartledon,  In Tones Of Sad

Regret. "There Was A Great Family Resemblance Between Us All,  I Believe."

 

"He Died From An Accident,  Did He Not?" Said Mr. O'moore,  An Irishman,

Who Liked To Be Called "The O'moore."

 

"Yes."

 

Percival Elster Turned To His Brother,  And Spoke In Low Tones. "Edward,

Was Any Particular Person Suspected Of Having Fired The Shot?"

 

"None. A Set Of Loose,  Lawless Characters Were Out That Night,  And--"

 

"What Are You All Looking At Here?"

 

The Interruption Came From Lady Kirton,  Who Was Sailing Into The Room

With Maude. A Striking Contrast The One Presented To The Other. Maude In

Pink Silk And A Pink Wreath,  Her Haughty Face Raised In Pride,  Her Dark

Eyes Flashing,  Radiantly Beautiful. The Old Dowager,  Broad As She Was

High,  Her Face Rouged,  Her Short Snub Nose Always Carried In The Air,  Her

Light Eyes Unmeaning,  Her Flaxen Eyebrows Heavy,  Her Flaxen Curls Crowned

By A Pea-Green Turban. Her Choice Attire Was Generally Composed,  As

To-Day,  Of Some Cheap,  Flimsy,  Gauzy Material Bright In Colour. This

Evening It Was Orange Lace,  All Flounces And Frills,  With A Lace Scarf;

And She Generally Had Innumerable Ends Of Quilted Net Flying About Her

Skirts,  Not Unlike Tails. It Was Certain She Did Not Spend Much Money

Upon Her Own Attire; And How She Procured The Costly Dresses For Maude

The Latter Appeared In Was Ever A Mystery. You Can Hardly Fancy The

Bedecked Old Figure That She Made. The O'moore Nearly Laughed Out,  As He

Civilly Turned To Answer Her Question.

 

"We Were Looking At This Portrait,  Lady Kirton."

 

"And Saying How Much He Was Like Val," Put In Young Carteret,  Between

Whom And The Dowager Warfare Also Existed. "Val,  Which Was The Elder?"

 

"George Was."

 

"Then His Death Made You Heir-Presumptive," Cried The Thoughtless Young

Man,  Speaking Impulsively.

 

"Heir-Presumptive To What?" Asked The Dowager Snapping At The Words.

 

"To Hartledon."

 

"_He_ Heir To Hartledon! Don't Trouble Yourself,  Young Man,  To Imagine

That Val Elster's Ever Likely To Come Into Hartledon. Do You Want To

Shoot His Lordship,  As _He_ Was Shot?"

 

The Uncalled-For Retort,  The Strangely Intemperate Tones,  The Quick

Passionate Fling Of The Hand Towards The Portrait Astonished Young

Carteret Not A Little. Others Were Surprised Also; And Not One Present

But Stared At The Speaker. But She Said No More. The Pea-Green Turban And

Flaxen Curls Were Nodding Ominously; And That Was All.

 

The Animus To Val Elster Was Very Marked. Lord Hartledon Glanced At His

Brother With A Smile,  And Led The Way Back To The Other Drawing-Room. At

That Moment The Butler Announced Dinner; The Party Filed Across The Hall

To The Fine Old Dining-Room,  And Began Finding Their Seats.

 

"I Shall Sit There,  Val. You Can Take A Chair At The Side."

 

Val Did Look Surprised At This. He Was About To Take The Foot Of His

Brother's Table,  As Usual; And There Was The Pea-Green Turban Standing

Over Him,  Waiting To Usurp It. It Would Have Been Quite Beyond Val

Elster,  In His Sensitiveness,  To Tell Her She Should Not Have It; But He

Did Feel Annoyed. He Was Sweet-Tempered,  However. Moreover,  He Was A

Gentleman,  And Only Waited To Make One Remark.

 

"I Fear You Will Not Like This Place,  Ma'am. Won't It Look Odd To See A

Lady At The Bottom Of The Table?"

 

"I Have Promised My Dear Nephew To Act As Mistress,  And To See After His

Guests; And I Don't Choose To Sit At The Side Under Those Circumstances."

But She Had Looked At Lord Hartledon,  And Hesitated Before She Spoke.

Perhaps She Thought His Lordship Would Resign The Head Of The Table To

Her,  And Take The Foot Himself. If So,  She Was Mistaken.

 

"You Will Be More Comfortable At The Side,  Lady Kirton," Cried Lord

Hartledon,  When He Discovered What The Bustle Was About.

 

"Not At All,  Hartledon; Not At All."

 

"But I Like My Brother To Face Me,  Ma'am. It Is His Accustomed Place."

 

Remonstrance Was Useless. The Dowager Nodded Her Pea-Green Turban,  And

Firmly Seated Herself. Val Elster Dexterously Found A Seat Next Lady

Maude; And A Gay Gleam Of Triumph Shot Out Of His Deep-Blue Eyes As He

Glanced At The Dowager. It Was Not The Seat She Would Have Wished Him To

Take; But To Interfere Again Might Have Imperilled Her Own Place. Maude

Laughed. She Did Not Care For Val--Rather Despised Him In Her Heart; But

He Was The Most Attractive Man Present,  And She Liked Admiration.

 

Another Link In The Chain! For How Many,  Many Days And Years,  Dating From

That Evening,  Did That Awful Old Woman Take A Seat,  At Intervals,  At Lord

Hartledon's Table,  And Assume It As A Right!

Chapter 5 (Jealousy)

The Rain Poured Down On The Monday Morning; And Lord Hartledon Stood At

The Window Of The Countess-Dowager's Sitting-Room--One She Had

Unceremoniously Adopted For Her Own Private Use--Smoking A Cigar,  And

Watching The Clouds. Any Cigar But His Would Have Been Consigned To The

Other Side The Door. Mr. Elster Had Only Shown (By Mere Accident) The

End Of His Cigar-Case,  And The Dowager Immediately Demanded What He Meant

By Displaying That Article In The Presence Of Ladies. A Few Minutes

Afterwards Lord Hartledon Entered,  Smoking,  And Was Allowed To Enjoy His

Cigar With Impunity. Good-Tempered Val's Delicate Lips Broke Into A

Silent Smile As He Marked The Contrast.

 

He Lounged On The Sofa,  Doing Nothing,  In His Idle Fashion; Lord

Hartledon Continued To Watch The Clouds. On The Previous Saturday Night

The Gentlemen Had Entered Into An Argument About Boating: The Result Was

That A Match On The River Was Arranged,  And Some Bets Were Pending On It.

It Had Been Fixed To Come Off This Day,  Monday; But If The Rain Continued

To Come Down,  It Must Be Postponed; For The Ladies,  Who Had Been Promised

The Treat,  Would Not Venture Out To See It.

 

"It Has Come On Purpose," Grumbled Lord Hartledon. "Yesterday Was As Fine

And Bright As It Could Be,  The Glass Standing At Set Fair; And Now,  Just

Because This Boating Was