The Weird of the Wentworths: A Tale of George IV's Time, Vol. 2

by Johannes Scotus

  CHAPTER XX.

  "His heart was formed for softness--warped to wrong; Betrayed too early, and beguiled too long; Each feeling pure--as falls the dropping dew Within the grot--like that had hardened too; Less clear, perchance, its earthly trials passed, But sunk, and chilled, and petrified at last."--_Corsair._

  On the morning following these events the Earl and Countess, with theMarquis of Arranmore, deliberated over the strange tale at theirbreakfast table. Lord Wentworth had told everything to his wife duringthe early watches of the morning; and if she was even more surprisedthan he had been, she yet bore the trial with still greater calmness andpatience. Lord Arranmore, perhaps of the three, seemed most affected;but their different ideas will best be exemplified by part of theconversation across the table.

  "If you do wisely, Wentworth," said the Marquis, "you will keep thisstory precious quiet; if it gets about it will kick up a desperaterow!--excuse the word, Countess, but least said soonest mended; and totry the case can do no possible good to unfortunate L'Estrange, and willcertainly do you plenty of harm."

  "But still, Arranmore, right is right; and if I am aware I am anusurper, I have no longer any right to remain so."

  "Nonsense, my dear fellow; look quietly at it. Here is a fellow, acut-throat, an assassin, a murderer,--and you, without any flattery, anornament to our peerage; and because another old villain tells you he isyour brother,--_ergo_, my Italian cut-throat becomes an English Earl,and my Lord of Wentworth sinks into a plain gentleman!"

  "You forget, he is rightful heir, and only by an adverse fate was keptfrom his own. Surely, Arranmore, if you were proved to be spendinganother's fortune by misapprehension, your duty is to restore it, aswell as all you have spent."

  "It might be my duty, but I should certainly never stoop to it; besides,the case is different. Suppose the cleverest lawyer in the kingdomproved to a demonstration a convict murderer was the rightful Marquis ofArranmore, d'you think I would give up name, title, and possessions tohim?"

  "I did not say so; but if this convict had a son how would it be?"

  "You have no proof L'Estrange ever had a son. Take my advice,--burn thepapers, and never trouble your brains about it again. I grant it maybevery romantic, and there may be a degree of likelihood in the story; butfor romance I would never let solid reality slip away. Think of yourwife and Augusta;--as a father you are not bound, on mere report, tobring them to ruin!"

  "I hope," said the Countess, "as I have shared my husband's prosperity,I shall be enabled to share his adversity, if it is God's pleasure; andI do hope Wentworth will be ruled by right; and whatever may happen, atleast I will not add to his trials by impatience or complainings."

  "I am quite sure you will always be faithful for better for worse," saidthe Earl, with earnestness. "No, Arranmore, depend on it, whatevercourse justice points to, I will go; and though it would be a trial--aheavy trial--to lose rank, wealth, and authority, still the hand thatgave them takes away, and we have no right to murmur. At least it willnot be for long; but, however protracted the trial may be, I trust Ishall have grace to bear it."

  "That's right, dearest; I am so glad to hear you speak thus," said theCountess.

  The Marquis did not appear at all of the same opinion; but with a slighttoss of his head,--as much as to say, "You're a precious fool to loseall for justice,"--asked, "What do you mean to do first, if you areresolved to run such an absurd course?"

  "First," answered the Earl, "I shall leave for Naples, and by allpossible means try and find out this brother of mine, and then franklytell him the truth, and leave him to decide what is to be done. The casewill go before the House of Lords, and he will, I am sure, see theimpossibility of his establishing any claim for possession; but if hehas a family, the title must descend to them I fancy. However, the firstlawyers will decide."

  "And we shall lose our title either way, I suppose," said the Countess."Poor little Augusta! I feel most for her. It will be a dark hour; butwe must try by the sunshine within us to lighten its gloom."

  "On my faith it is too hard! Certainly heaven doesn't seem to favour herchildren; for if anybody living should have been free from trouble, itwas you, Countess! It's hard lines, I swear; and to think it's all inyour own power. I call it a kind of tempting of Providence."

  "You forget, Marquis, we are nowhere exempted from the common trialsmankind is heir to; at the best we are all unprofitable servants; and aswe have so long enjoyed the beams of fortune, we are least excusable ifwe faint before the first cloud. It is not I, but my husband, that is tobe most pitied,--for I merely return to my former position in life,whilst he sinks to unaccustomed trials! But one thing I will promisehim, and that is, he shall never know any difference in me,--except thatby fonder love I will try my best to ameliorate his troubles."

  "God bless you, Ellen!" said the Earl; "you have ever been my betterangel."

  "Oh, do not say so, Wentworth; after all I only do what it is my duty todo. Think you, when I took the solemn vows at my marriage they wereempty words? I have loved you in health, and wealth, and happiness; andif a few dark days have occasionally interrupted the long career ofpleasures, they have been few and far between. Really, I am almostimpatient to show you how well I can fulfil that part of my vows whichspeaks of sickness and sorrow! We have tried the bettertogether,--perhaps," said the Countess, with a winning smile, "we are totry the worse."

  The Earl looked lovingly at his beautiful partner, thinking he hadindeed found a good thing when he gained such a wife. The Marquisshrugged his shoulders, as if not much liking the turn of theconversation. The Countess arose, and left the room. When she was gonehe again addressed the Earl:

  "I say, Wentworth, it's uncommon rum to think, if that yarn is true,that L'Estrange was so much at his own house without knowing it! thatyou and he should have been after the same girl; and what made you thehappiest of men, made him the most miserable."

  "It is more than strange; now that all is laid open I sometimes wonderthe idea never struck me. His age, likeness to poor John, extraordinaryearly career,--so many points of resemblance! It is hard still to fancyhim, not only my brother, but eldest brother; his associations too withEllen are so curious! I see it is a painful subject to her; so I maygive you the hint now to say little about it."

  "Yes, by Jove! for though she was free to love whom she liked best, andwas very wise to make choice of you, there is no possible doubt but thather refusal drove him distracted. After all, she got hold of the wrongman!"

  The Marquis laughed; but Lord Wentworth was apparently little inclinedfor humour, and did not join in the joke.

  "Let's have a squint at these papers," said the former. "I only justglanced at them last night; we shall see at once if they are forgeriesor not. I wish, i' faith, they would turn out so, as you are determinedto act like a fool."

  Without replying, the Earl led the way to his study. The window wasopen,--the desk, unfinished letter, everything exactly as he had leftit. There was, however, something present which excited his surprise,and this was a large case of mahogany left on his table, and a letter onthe lid.

  "By Saint Patrick, the Countess's jewel-box!" exclaimed the Marquis.

  "This grows stranger and stranger," said the Earl, as he found hisbureau burst open, and the papers gone.

  "Are you sure you put them there?" asked the Marquis.

  "Sure as death! There is some vile conspiracy yet! If they break faithwith me our contract is ended; but let us read this letter."

  "A d--d cramped piece of penmanship,' as the poet says," remarked LordArranmore; "can you read it, Wentworth? I am not very clever atdecyphering these hieroglyphics."

  "I will try; let us see,--it runs something like this:--'My Lord: Thejewels are turfed again, but the papers was gave in a hurry, and aretaken away. Think no more on last night, but forget you ever ran foul ofBill Stacy!"

  "The villain is too clever by half," said the Marquis, "but really I amuncommonly well pleased it has turned out so;
now you can have nopossible excuse for making a noise. Take the writer's advice if you arewise, for whoever he be his advice is sound and good."

  "I am really perplexed what I should do: I must go and talk it over withthe Countess; meantime we must inform the authorities here about thesavage murder last night, but I will not let out a word about mymidnight adventure. If you will take a weed, I will go and see Ellen,and join you again presently."

  The Marquis, conformably to advice, lighted his havanna and poured out atumbler of light wine, anathematizing the country that produced no beer,and calmly enjoyed his "_otium cum dignitate_," whilst the Countess andher husband were busy talking over the case, and deciding what the nextmove should be. In about half an hour the Earl again entered the study.

  "Well, Arranmore, we are at last come to a decision: we leave thisimmediately, first for Naples, and then England. In London I shallprivately obtain the best legal advice as to the course I should pursue,and we shall then quietly await the _denouement_. I think I need not inany way be the prime mover, but time must elapse before the excitementof the case is passed away, and we are able dispassionately to considerits _pros_ and _cons_."

  "Well, I congratulate you, my dear fellow! I for one shall be glad toleave for the old country, for I have paid you a long visit, and amanxious to be back at Claremont, and see my boy--at the Easter holidays;he is getting on capitally at Eton; I heard from him to-day."

  "Oh did you? you generally hear pretty regularly, I think; he is a finefellow, and we must have him up to Scotland in the summer. Dear me,Arranmore, if he and Augusta took a fancy to each other what a nicething it would be!"

  "Ha! I have long thought of that as a likely match; I hope I shall liveto see them married. Faith! broadlands, and fair owners would meet.Augusta promises to grow a rare prize, and Arthur, dear fellow, he isgetting up to me in height, though only twelve last October," said theMarquis, considerably overrating the young Anak's height.

  A week after this conversation a travelling carriage drew up at theVilla Reale with the Earl, his wife, and daughter, and the Marquis, whowas in high spirits at the thoughts of being homeward bound; he was toleave on the succeeding day, the rest following in a fortnight, as theEarl's yacht was then undergoing some slight repairs, and would not beready before. On the next day Lord Arranmore left for Ireland, _via_Marseilles. After seeing his friend off, the Earl called on the Countd'Azalia, prefect of police, to inquire if the whereabouts of AdrianVardarelli were known, intending, if he could gain the information, totry and obtain an interview. Here he learned a piece of intelligence hewas least prepared for. Scarcely had he named his brother than theCount, rubbing his hands together with joy, exclaimed--

  "Ah, Signore, do I know where he is? Santa Maria, do I not! safe at lastin prison!"

  "In prison? impossible! in prison? how did you capture him?" asked theEarl, growing very pale.

  "He gave himself up, the rascal; he will never more trouble the Statewith his atrocious villanies. He has assassinated Luigi, his brother,and now we are only waiting the king's pleasure, before he pays thepenalty of his crimes with his life. He will tell nothing about hiscomrades, but the rack will find him a tongue. But my Lord, you are ill,what is the matter?"

  "Nothing, nothing, a passing faintness; I'll thank you for a glass ofwater."

  The Earl drained the cooling beverage, and then asked, "Could I see thisprisoner? in what gaol is he confined?"

  "My Lord! see the prisoner, and why? Santa Maria, he is in no placesuited for my Lord to enter, a felon in chains--ah! it is impossible, Ifear."

  "I have reasons for wishing to see this man, he is connected with myfamily in an extraordinary way."

  "Well, my Lord, you are too well known here to incur suspicion, but youmust be accompanied with soldiers, and also with a padre acquainted withthe English language. There is no intention of prying into yourconversation; and any secrets, if not affecting the State, will remainas safe with the holy man as if from the confessional. It is a form wecannot depart from."

  "This would be extremely unpleasant to me, Monsieur le Comte; if I givemy word of honour there is nothing to affect the prisoner's security,could I not see him alone? I do not doubt the honour of your priests,but not belonging myself to the Catholic persuasion I should be as wellsatisfied without one; it is in a family matter only the prisoner isuseful to me."

  "Well, Signore, as a friend, and as a great favour, I will give you apermit to see him for an hour or two: as he voluntarily gave himself upthere is no fear of his trying to escape; if you will wait a few minutesI will write a permission."

  "Given himself up, in a dungeon heavily chained, tortures and death inprospect, and he my brother! he the scion of a noble race, the truepossessor of lands, title, and riches! to what has he fallen!" thoughtthe Earl, as he watched the Count pen the permit.

  "I think it right to inform you," said he, as he received the pass, "itis likely I may ask the life of this Adrian Vardarelli; he is not whathe seems, Comte, he is not an Italian, and I have reason to believe thatmore hangs on that man's life than you are aware, and possibly theBritish Government may relieve you of the charge. I say I believe itonly, I am not quite certain, but my interview with him will tell meall; meantime there is no chance of his immediate execution is there?"

  "No, my Lord, it would not take place for months. There seems somemystery about this man. I have heard before he is an Englishman."

  "He is, and I have reason to believe he is a great Englishman,--a man ofrank and importance."

  "Ah! that would be strange, but you will not be able to see him till theevening; it is against usual regulations, and must be done under theshadow of night; and, my Lord, you will tell no one of this permit."

  "I will not, not even my wife. To-morrow I will come and see you again,and if he turns out what I believe him to be, as I said, his life mustbe spared until the Britannic minister has corresponded with hisMajesty's government. I wish you a good day, Monsieur le Comte, and ammuch obliged for your kind services."

  True to his promise, not even the Countess was made a confidante; sheobserved there was something on her husband's mind, and even inquired ifall was right, but seeing his desire not to be interrogated, forboreasking more. About eight at night he told the Countess he had anengagement, and also bade her not to be alarmed if he was rather late inreturning. Soon after he left in a close carriage and drove to theCastel Capuano, the ancient palace of the Swabian dynasty, now used as acourt for the different tribunals--the Court of the First Instance, theCriminal Court, and Court of Appeal. Beneath the palace are darkdungeons in which many a captive has pined,--justly in requital for hiscrime, or unjustly, and that often, as the victim of injured innocence.At the palace the Earl's carriage stopped; he descended and was met bythe Count, who to his surprise led him through the intricate passages,and then descended to the deep vaults below. A soldier of the guardcarried a torch before them, and at last stopped before a heavilyiron-clamped door, and taking a huge bunch of keys fitted one into theponderous lock, and, turning it with difficulty, next unbarred andunchained this portal of captivity, and allowed the huge door to swingback on its rusty hinges with a grating, harsh creak. Two more soldierswith lanterns and muskets joined them, and the Count and turnkey thenmotioned the last mentioned to stand near the door, and the Earl also toenter. He did so, the great gate was again closed, he heard the barsdrawn across, the chains coupled, the massive key turn in the wards ofthe lock, and the footsteps of the Count and his attendant fade away. Aninvoluntary shudder passed through him as he felt himself actuallywithin the walls of one of those dread prisons, and in a cell that thecaptive's voice vainly strives to pierce, whether innocent or guilty.One of the guards then addressed him, warning him he had not too muchtime, and had better not waste it; giving him also a lantern, andpointing to the darkest corner of the dungeon as the spot where thebandit lay. He received the lantern, and walked forward to the pointindicated; by its glimmering ray he saw that the floor was uneven, andin many
places so damp it resembled a marsh. The walls were old andmouldy, the moisture glistening on the huge stones of which they werebuilt; near the floor were many bolts of mouldy iron, built into themasonry, and from them depended rusty chains, dragging their long lengthon the damp cold floor, or rather soil, beneath his feet. As he pursuedhis way down the great dungeon he came on a dread relic--a skeletonstill bound by the gyves and fetters that held it a living prisoner longyears ago. A shudder again ran through him: who had that victim been?was it man or woman? he was not anatomist enough to tell; had the victimbeen guilty, or innocent, a noble or peasant? who should say. He passedon; the opposing wall now appeared; in the corner, on a bed ofmaize-straw, a chained prisoner was stretched; could that be hisbrother? he turned the lantern's glare on his features; he almoststarted back; it was as if the Captain lay before him; never had theresemblance seemed so striking before. The light, blinding the captive,caused him to pass his hand over his eyes. The Earl could see him, hecould not see who his visitor was, perhaps a messenger of death. Stillthe Earl gazed on him, still he could hardly summon resolution to speak.It was years since he had seen that face,--years of trouble, danger,exposure, hardship; vices had left their trace behind, they had notswept away old likenesses. Last time he had seen that man was, when,tiger-like, he stood over Ellen Ravensworth, and shot the servant whosaved his (the Earl's) life. And here he lay, pale, dejected, hungry,bound, with the sentence of death weighing on him, and his own darkthoughts for a prison friend.

  What a fall! what an end! The gay gallant young soldier, the ardentlover, what had he come to? first abductor, then murderer, escaping fromprison and just doom--not to repent, not to reform, but to sink, step bystep, to descend bar by bar, the ladder of infamy till he was now on thevery ground, a condemned felon. And this is my brother still, and he iscold, and in prison, and I have come to visit him, and must speak.

  "L'Estrange," said he at last, "I grieve to find you here."

  The convict started up to a sitting posture; his wild eyes dilated, hishair seemed to stand, his whole frame shook, and as he clanked his gyvestogether the Earl thought he had never seen anything so dreadful, or anypicture so like Apollyon bound.

  "Ha!" cried the wretched man; "it only wanted this to complete the sumof misery; you are come to glory over my fall, to reproach me for mybase attempts on Ellen, to throw my crimes in my teeth; but hear mebefore God--the God I have scoffed at, and all my life offended--Iwished not to slay your brother, I knew not what I did; and yet it washe who brought me here--he who led me on from folly to sin, from sin tovice, from vice to crime--he who has destroyed me soul and body. Yes,abuse me for abusing friendship, mock at my woe, I have deserved itwell."

  "I have not come to reproach you, nor taunt you with crimes which, hadit not been for a restraining Providence, I might have done myself. Icame to tell you I forgive you, as I hope to be forgiven, and to seewhat I can do for you, to treat you as a brother, as you are."

  "To treat me as a brother!" said the unhappy man, with a look of extremesurprise. "No, no, no; do not treat me as a brother, that were worsestill. Taunt me with my crimes, I can bear it; with my ingratitude toyou,--to you who were ever a friend; crush the viper who stung hisbenefactor beneath your feet, but treat me not as a brother, I cannotbear that; leave me to perish as I deserve."

  "Listen, Edward L'Estrange, I speak not allegorically, I speak plainly.I come to treat you as a brother, because you _are_ my brother; you mayhave striven to hurt me, but you have really done me no harm, I have nocause for feeling angry. I regret your unhappy life, I mourn over yourmany and deep crimes, I hate the sin, I can love the sinner: take myhand, my brother, for I feel sure I shall prove you to be so--take it asit is given."

  "I cannot," replied the wretched man, "I cannot do so; you are the firstwho has spoken a kind word for years; the first who has cared for theoutcast. I honour, I love you for it, but I cannot take your hand, itwould be defilement to you, agony to me; let light and darkness embracefirst."

  "The sinless One--our great example and guide--ever sought sinners; takemy hand, I intreat you, and forgive me as I forgive you from my heart. Iknow unintentionally I have been the prime cause of your stumbling, letme be the first to recover you, and lead you back to virtue. Now listento me--I have much to say to you, and when you have heard all you willtake the hand you still refuse; first answer me a few questions--do youknow who was your father?"

  "I never saw him,--my birth is wrapt in mystery. I have heard he wassome great man, and I was the unrecognized son of some one of rank inEngland; my early life I have told you. One only clue, or what might bea clue to the secret I have got, it is this." As he spoke he drew out asmall steel casket. "It is locked; when I received it I swore never toopen it till on my death bed. I am on my death bed now but I have notyet opened it; there is the key, you may unlock it."

  "I will then open it," said the Earl.

  He did so, and produced a small vellum on which the truth was engravedin the following words:

  "This is to certify that he who was commonly known under the name of Edward L'Estrange was first born son of Richard, 17th Earl of Wentworth, Arthur Plantagenet Vere de Vere, Viscount de Vere, who was reported to have been drowned, but was carried off by me, William Hermiston, _alias_ Mad Helder, _alias_ Bill Stacy, and brought up as a pirate till rescued by the captain of the Arethusa, and afterwards adopted by him and named Edward L'Estrange. That this is true can be sworn by me, by Farmer Forbes, Jeanet Forbes, his wife, and many others if required.

  "Signed, BILL STACY."

  The Earl then handed it to the unfortunate man, who by the dim lightdeciphered the writing.

  "You will know now why I sought you,--why I called you my brother, andwhy I asked your forgiveness?"

  "Oh! this is awful news," exclaimed Viscount de Vere, as we shall nowcall him, without giving him the title he was rightful possessor of, asit would only make confusion. "And I have been a fratricide, and all mylife waged war against my family!"

  He covered his face with his hands, and his thoughts were burning,intense, horrible!

  "That miscreant Bill! If I ever saw him again--and you think it isreliable. Ha! how often have I heard about Arthur de Vere, and hisstrange loss: little I thought it was I. And the Towers my own house,and you all brothers and sisters, and I have made some wretched, andslain my brother, and disgraced my race and name! Would God I had filledthat little empty coffin I have seen in the vaults at Dun Edin Towers!Oh! if I had been drowned. Why did I live to become the monster of guiltI am?"

  "It is useless to sigh over what is done; you must try and reform andmake the future redeem the past. Yours has been a wayward fate,--born torank and honour which you never succeeded to, born with a mind meant forbetter things, a rich soil on which not flowers, but weeds, haveluxuriated! The victim of bad men, you have sunk to infamy; but 'thoughyour sins be as scarlet' recollect they may be made 'white as snow!' thegreatest sinner may yet repent!"

  "Too late--too late." They were the only words the hapless man couldutter, so overwhelmed was he at first by the intelligence.

  The Earl stood silent too, then Viscount de Vere spoke:

  "Wentworth, whatever are my rights I have forfeited them. Will you grantmy dying wish, and that is never while I live mention this. When by mydeath I have atoned for my crimes record my unhappy fate on my tombstone. Keep your name--use your wealth as you ever have done, shine thestar you have ever shone, and leave your poor misguided brother to endthe short time he may yet have to live in prison."

  "I have no right to do so if you have any family;--tell me, had you everson or daughter?"

  "Never that I knew of; it is true I did marry, but I left my wife veryshortly after our union, and since have never heard of her."

  "At present," said the Earl, "all I can do for you is to try and haveyou removed to a more comfortable place than this damp dungeon, andsupplied with bed and proper food. I shall, I think, have influence withthe government to
enable you to pass the remainder of your life inseclusion, with every comfort that money can bring; of course you mustremain abroad, and let me beseech you to devote your time to religion,and seek to enjoy endless happiness above! You need not think it is toolate--greater sinners than you have found pardon and peace; and then ifyour life here has been a sad one, it will all be forgotten there!"

  "It is useless--there is no hope for me in this world, nor the next.There is one thing I ask, and you will grant it I am sure; it is this,that the Countess would come and see me. Oh! if I could only see heronce more, and know she forgave me I could die happy."

  "I am sure I may promise you that request. I shall see you againto-morrow; till then adieu, for I hear them at the door. Is thereanything you would like that I could procure?"

  "Nothing but rest, and I am not likely to get that."

  "Adieu, then, and God in his mercy grant the reigning powers may give afavourable hearing to your case; at the worst I can appeal to the Houseof Lords, but even then there would be little hope."

  The brothers then parted, and the Earl left with the Count. Inconclusion we need only say nothing could be done for the prisonerwithout an interview with the King, which the Earl solicited for thefollowing day; but he obtained leave for the Countess to pay a visit tothe unhappy man, and then bidding the Count good evening, and placing apurse of gold in the guard's hand to procure any comfort his brothermight wish, he drove home, and recounted the adventure to his wife.

  "Will you go and see him there?" said the Earl.

  "It will be a great trial, but I must nerve myself to it. How impossibleit seems to believe that he is your brother and mine too!"

  "I shall crave an audience of the King to-morrow after leaving youthere, and whilst I am away you can converse with him. If I procure hisfreedom we must try and get a residence either in Sicily, or some of theneighbouring islands, where he can lead a retired life, and occasionallysee his friends. There is one thing sure, and that is his life is now ashort one,--he has already reached an age few De Veres ever attained,but I only hope your influence may yet do something to lead his mind tobetter things. I wish I could have seen in him repentance rather thanremorse for his life of crimes."