Run to Earth - Mary Elizabeth Braddon (ebook reader .txt) 📗

Dale learned, some time after

their father’s death (Melville Dale died young), that severe affliction

had befallen their aunt, Lady Verner. The bitter and deadly breach

between father and son, and between brother and sister, was destined

never to be healed. Lionel and Douglas grew up knowing nothing of their

father’s family, but treated always with persistent kindness by their

uncle, Sir Oswald Eversleigh, who insisted upon their making Raynham

Castle a second home.”

 

“Their cousin Reginald must have liked that, I fancy,” remarked Miss

Brewer, in her coldest tone.

 

“He did, as you suppose,” said Carrington; “he hated the Dales, and I

fancy they had but little intimacy with him. He was early taken up by

Sir Oswald, and acknowledged and treated as his heir. You know, of

course, how all that came to grief, and how Sir Oswald married a

nobody, and left her the bulk of his fortune?”

 

“Yes, I have heard all that,” said Miss Brewer. “Sir Reginald did not

spare us the details of the injustice Sir Oswald had done him, or the

expression of his feelings regarding it. Sir Reginald is the most

egotistical man I know.”

 

“Well, then, as you are in possession of the family relations so far,

let me return to Lady Verner, of whom her nephews knew nothing during

their father’s lifetime. She had lost her husband shortly after the

birth of her only child, and continued to live at Naples, whither Sir

George had been taken, in the vain hope of prolonging his life. A short

time after Sir George Verner’s death, and while his child was almost an

infant, Lady Verner’s villa was robbed, and the little girl, with her

nurse, disappeared. The general theory was, that the nurse had connived

at the robbery, and gone off with the thieves; and being, after the

fashion of Italian nurses, extraordinarily fond of the child, had

refused to be parted from her. Be that as it may, the nurse and child

were never heard of again, and though the case was put into the hands

of the cleverest of the police, in Paris and London, no discovery has

ever been made. Lady Verner fell into a state of hopeless melancholy,

in which she continued for many years, and during that period, of

course, her wealth accumulated, and is now very great indeed. I see by

your face, Miss Brewer, that you are growing impatient, and are

disposed to wonder what the family history of the Dales, and the

troubles of Lady Verner, have to do with Paulina Durski and our designs

for her future. Bear with my explanation a little longer, and you will

perceive the importance of the connection between them.”

 

Miss Brewer gave her shoulders a slight shrug, expressive of supreme

resignation, and Victor continued.

 

“Lady Verner has now recovered, under the influence of time and medical

skill, and has come to London with the avowed purpose of arranging the

affairs of her large property. She has heard of Lionel Dale’s death,

and, therefore, knows that there is a candidate the less in the field.

Sir Reginald Eversleigh has obtained access to this lady, and he has

carefully nipped in the bud certain symptoms of interest which she

betrayed in the fate of Sir Oswald Eversleigh’s widow and orphan

daughter. Lady Verner is an exceedingly proud woman, and you may

suppose her maternal instincts are powerful, when the loss of her child

caused her years of melancholy madness. My gifted friend speedily

discovered these characteristics, and practised on them. Lady Verner

was made aware that the widow of Sir Oswald Eversleigh was a person of

low origin, and dubious reputation, and cared so little for her child

that she had gone abroad, for an indefinite time, leaving the little

girl at Raynham, in the care of servants. The result of this

representation was, that Lady Verner felt and expressed extreme

disgust, and considerable satisfaction that she had not committed

herself to a course from which she must have receded, by opening any

communication with Lady Eversleigh. One danger thus disposed of—and I

must say I think Reginald did it well—he was very enthusiastic, he

tells me, on the virtues of his uncle, and his inextinguishable regret

for that benefactor of his youth.”

 

Miss Brewer’s cold smile, and glittering, baleful eye, attracted

Carrington’s attention at this point.

 

“That shocks you, does it, Miss Brewer?” he asked.

 

“Shock me? Oh no! It rather interests me; there’s an eminence of

baseness in it.”

 

“So there is,” said Carrington, with pleased assent, “especially to one

who knows, as I do, how Reginald hated his uncle, living-how he hates

his memory, dead. However, he did this, and did it well; but it was

only half his task. Lady Verner would keep herself clear of Lady

Eversleigh, but she must be kept clear of Douglas Dale.”

 

“Ha!” said Miss Brewer, with a slight change of attitude and

expression, “I see now; she must be turned against him by means of

Paulina—poor Paulina! She says she is fatal to him; she says he ought

to fly from her. This looks still more like her being right.”

 

“It does, indeed, Miss Brewer,” said Carrington, gravely. “You are

right. It was by means of Madame Durski that the trick was done; but

neither you nor I—and I assure you I like your friend immensely—can

afford to take objection to the manner of doing it. Lady Verner was

made to understand that by extending her countenance to, or enriching

Douglas Dale, she would only be giving additional security and ecl�t

to a marriage scarcely less disgraceful than that which Sir Oswald

Eversleigh had contracted. The device has been successful, so far. And

now comes the third portion of Sir Reginald’s game—the substitution of

himself in Lady Verner’s good graces for the nephew he has ousted. This

is only fair, after all. Dale cut him out with his uncle—he means to

cut Dale out with his aunt. You understand our programme now, Miss

Brewer, don’t you?”

 

“Yes,” she replied, slowly, “but I don’t see why I should lend him any

assistance. It would be more to my interest that Douglas Dale should

inherit this lady’s fortune; the richer Paulina’s husband is, the

better for me.”

 

“Unquestionably, my dear Miss Brewer,” said Carrington. “But Dale will

not marry Paulina if Sir Reginald Eversleigh chooses to prevent it; and

Douglas Dale will not give you five hundred pounds for any services

whatever, because there are none which you can render him. I think you

can see that pretty plainly, Miss Brewer. And you can also see, I

presume, that, provided I get my money from Eversleigh, it is a

manner of total indifference to me whether he gets Lady Verner’s

money, or whether Dale gets it. The only means by which I can get my

money is by detaching Sir Reginald from Paulina, and making him marry

the ironmonger’s heiress. When that is done, and the money is paid, I

am perfectly satisfied that Dale should get the fortune, and I think it

very likely he will; but you must perceive that I cannot play my own

game except by appearing to play Reginald’s.”

 

“Is Lady Verner likely to think the ironmonger’s heiress a good match

for Sir Reginald Eversleigh?” Miss Brewer asked, in a coldly sarcastic

tone.

 

“How is she to know anything of her origin?” returned Carrington, who

was, however, disconcerted by the question. “She lives a most retired

life; no one but Reginald has any access to her, and he can make her

believe anything he likes.”

 

“That’s fortunate,” said Miss Brewer, drily; “pray proceed.”

 

“Well, then, you see these points as clearly as I do—the next thing to

be done is to secure Paulina’s marriage with Douglas Dale.”

 

“I don’t think that needs much securing,” said Miss Brewer. “Judging

from his manner before he left town, and from the tone of his letter, I

should think very little encouragement from her would ensure a proposal

of marriage from him.”

 

“And will she give him that encouragement?”

 

“Undoubtedly—I fully believe she will marry Douglas Dale. She has

certainly learned to despise Sir Reginald Eversleigh, and I think Mr.

Dale has caught her heart in the rebound.”

 

“Have you attended to my instructions about impressing her money

difficulties on her mind—have you made things as bad as possible?”

 

“Certainly,” answered Miss Brewer. “Only this morning I have sent into

her room several pressing and impertinent letters from her

tradespeople, and I put some accounts of the most dispiriting character

before her last night. She is in dreadfully low spirits.”

 

“So much the better! If we can but induce her to borrow money from

Dale, all will be well; he will take that as a convincing proof of

regard and confidence, and will propose to her at once. I am sure of

it. So sure, that I will pass that matter by, and take it for granted.

And now—if this comes to pass, and Douglas Dale is here as the

accepted lover of Paulina, I must have constant access to the house,

and he must not know me as Victor Carrington. He has never seen me,

though I am familiar with his appearance.”

 

“Why?” asked Miss Brewer, in a tone of suspicious surprise.

 

“I will tell you, by-and-by. Suffice it for the present that it must be

so. Then again, it would not do to have a man, who is not a relative,

established l’ami de la maison. That it is not the sort of thing that

an affianced lover could be expected to like. You must introduce me to

Douglas Dale as your cousin, and by the name of Carton. It is

sufficiently like my real name to prevent the servants knowing my name

is changed, since they always bungle over the ‘Carrington.’ As Victor

Carrington, Dale might refuse to know me, and certainly would not form

any intimacy with me, and that he should form an intimacy with me is

essential to my purpose.”

 

“Why?” said Miss Brewer, in exactly the same tone as before.

 

“I will tell you by-and-by,” said Carrington. “You consent, do you

not?”

 

“I am not sure,” she answered. “But, even supposing I do consent, there

is Paulina to be consulted. How is she to be induced to call you Mr.

Carton and my cousin?”

 

“I will undertake to persuade Madame Durski that it will be for her

best interests to consent,” said Carrington. “And now to my

explanation. Reginald Eversleigh is a man who is not to be trusted for

a moment, even where his own interests are closely concerned. He cares

nothing for Paulina; he knows the best thing that can happen to him

would be her marriage with Dale, for he calculates upon his hold over

the wife giving him the chance of a good share of the husband’s money

in some way. Yet, such is his vanity, so unmanageable is his temper,

that if he were not too much afraid of me, too much in my power, he

would indulge them both at the cost of destroying our plan. If he knew

me to be absent, or unable to present myself freely here, he would

persecute Paulina—she would never be free from him. He would

compromise his own chance with the heiress, which is, naturally, my

chief consideration, and compromise her with Douglas Dale. Again, I do

not mind admitting to you, Miss Brewer, that I am of a cautious and

suspicious temperament; and when I pay an agent liberally, as I intend

to pay you, I always like to see for myself how the work is done.”

 

“That argument, at least, is unanswerable,” she replied. “You shall, so

far as I